Raul stood by the smoldering ashes a long time before he said: "The bastards, to burn it! They might better have stolen the corn and wheat. They could have eaten that. This way everybody loses!"
A gentle mist was falling and he and Manuel stood under a jacaranda, the body of a scorched rat near their feet. The wind shook the damp leaves and pigeons flew low, avoiding the mill. The chapel bell tolled, telling the story.
"Well, we've seen the mill," said Raul.
"What a fire!" said Manuel. "Look how the beams burned."
Raul noticed the charred beams in the ruin.
"The quake knocked down the mill," he said. "The fire got going, then the quake pulled down the beams." He nodded toward the volcano, now drowned in mist.
Raul pulled Manuel's sleeve.
"We have things to do, Manuel. I want to go back to the house. I must bury my father."
"What ... he's dead!"
"The quake killed him. Help me take his body away, Manuel. It won't be easy."