The Mother Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  “Mac,” Brogan asked shakily, “Have you seen my Dad?”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ll see if I can find him.” He turned to go.

  “Mac,” Allison was urgently tugging on his sleeve. “I need my medical bag. It’s in the limo. Do you think you can get to it?”

  “I’ll do my best, Doc. Brogan, I’ll look for Frank after I get the medical bag.”

  Brogan nodded as Mac took off at a jog toward the parking garage. He pulled out the robo card and pushed the beeper on it to make it easier to locate. He heard the beep, but before he could enter the garage, the entire structure of four stories pancaked. Oops, he said to himself. Guess that takes care of Doc’s medical bag.

  He headed back to the family and told Allison what had happened. “Okay but see if you can find me any type of First Aid kit.”

  By this time, she was already tending to the wounded as best she could, using strips of her own tunic to bind wounds. The after-shocks had finally stopped, so Mac looked back at the hotel, trying to decide if it was safe to go back in and look for Frank and a First Aid kit. He took one step toward the hotel, when another aftershock hit, and the building began to sway. He got just close enough to see Frank lying on the floor under a table, motionless, his eyes vacant, but a peaceful smile on his face.

  Within seconds and in slow motion, the hotel collapsed. There were more screams from the crowd as dust and debris from the collapse exploded around them where they stood in the street. There was no way Frank could have survived.

  It seemed to take forever, but soon the sounds of emergency robo vehicles with auto docs arrived and Allison could begin triage for the more seriously wounded. The rest of the family did what they could to help.

  Several hours passed. The family eventually worked their way through the rubble back to the auditorium on the rebel base, now an emergency shelter. Allison’s help was no longer needed as emergency responders took over.

  Mac didn’t know how he was going to tell Brogan and Emily what he saw. After they were settled and had eaten something, he sat on the floor in front of them and told them where he had seen Frank. Brogan thanked him for telling them. His own eyes were filled with tears as he stood up and walked away.

  Brogan was quietly distraught, but Emily was almost hysterical. Frank had been father, mother and grandfather, all in one, her entire life. Allison finally gave her a sedative to help her sleep. Papa Marco and Marie sat together on a nearby cot, both in a daze, the deep gash on her forehead covered with a large bandage.

  Brogan sat on her shelter cot, covered in dust like everyone else, trying to come to grips with the fact her father was dead, so soon after their reuniting and after being apart for so long. Why didn’t I notice he wasn’t with us? I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

  Weary tears trickled down her face as she sat beside her daughter, watching her sleep. She looked up at the hundreds of other refugees now huddled inside the auditorium where just a few hours ago she made her speech. She pulled her cot closer to Emily’s and laid down, too tired to sleep. Instead, she decided to have a last, silent conversation with her father.

  Daddy, I’m sorry I never got to tell you how much I loved you. How much I appreciated all you did for me and Bryan by raising our daughter. What a great job you did. How proud I am of you. You never once violated your beliefs in peace and nonviolence. You refused to kill anyone. You lived a quiet life, fighting for freedom every day in the way you lived your life.

  I will live the rest of my life trying to show others violence is not the only way to stop evil. Thank you for being the best role model a daughter could ever want. I know you and Mom are together now, rejoicing in the presence of God. I will miss you. Tell Bryan hello for me. I love you.

  Now, maybe she could sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  An Earthquake Wasn’t Enough

  The family was unable to immediately leave Mexico City after the earthquake. Roads were blocked with debris in and around the city, and then with refugees fleeing the disaster. Rails were twisted, so there was no train service. Diseases like typhoid began to spread rapidly because of lack of clean water.

  Brogan fought a daily battle with depression after her father’s death, even as she tried to help survivors. Emily seemed to be in a daze and said little; doing what was asked of her but not much more.

  Maria, Mateo, Marco, Mac and Allison spent every waking hour trying to help the victims of the earthquake. Papa Marco managed to find a robo truck and sent Mac to Tegucigalpa to pick up cases of antibiotics and other medical supplies for the earthquake victims.

  By the second week after the disaster, when some sections of the ancient city started to return to normal life, the family decided it was time to head back to Tegucigalpa. Everyone was exhausted. Authorities told them it would be months before they would be able to dig through the rubble and retrieve Frank’s body from the collapsed hotel. Brogan left her contact information with them so when they found his body they could let her know.

  The BL rebels pitched in to help with recovery. All plans for defeating the empire were put aside because of the earthquake. There was a total lack of electronic communications caused by the disaster, which meant they were unable to get any messages from outside the area. It wasn’t until the third week after the earthquake, when General Juan was sitting in his office, his communications lieutenant popped in and told him there was a message from Esther Longstreet.

  “Send it to my pod, please, Lieutenant.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  The general rubbed his bloodshot eyes and waited for the message to upload. When he saw what it said, he sat frozen for a moment. Then he started yelling. “Get me my officers! Now!”

  The lieutenant rushed in. “What is it, sir?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? Get all of the rebel officers and commanders in the conference room, NOW!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  It took almost an hour before all the officers and commanders of the rebel forces could be located. They found the general pacing up and down in the conference room as they trickled in one by one, saluting as they arrived. He refused to say a word until they were all standing in place. It wasn’t difficult to tell there was something wrong. The general’s face was white. His fists were clenched, and his hands trembled. He took a deep breath and finally spoke.

  “Please be seated. I have grave news.” He took a deep breath. “I just received a coded message from our best spy, planted in the emperor’s bunker. She escaped after the emperor died, with BL help, but has kept in touch with some of the other staff at the pyramid.

  “The new king and queen and their top research scientist, Dr. Argus Delis, are in the process of finalizing a plan to develop and disburse sarin gas over Mexico City within a year.”

  The general was suddenly weak in the knees and collapsed into his chair at the head of the large conference table, his head bowed. Not a sound could be heard from the shocked military leaders in the room. Wearily the general raised his head and looked around the room, slowly catching the eyes of each person in the room, not saying a word at first.

  Quietly, but in a voice gathering more strength as he spoke, General Juan Veracruz asked the question they were all thinking, “What do we do now?”

  The scope of the problem was almost beyond comprehension. With probably a third of the 40 million people between Mexico City and Central Mexico concentrated in Mexico City, the thought of trying to move 13 million people out of the potential strike zone was mind boggling.

  “Are you sure the information is correct, sir?” one of the majors asked.

  “Absolutely. This particular spy has been imbedded for almost 15 years and has never been wrong.”

  “But how could the king and queen do such a thing? another colonel asked. And then the murmur of questions and voices began to rise and fill the air.

  “Okay, okay. I know,” the general said loudly over the murmur. “It is overwhelming. We can’t solve the problem here a
nd now. But we need to start somewhere.” The general turned to his aide.

  “Lieutenant get a hold of Dr. Schneider. Tell him I need to see him immediately and it is urgent. If he gives you any resistance. Pick him up and hog tie him. Just get him here. Oh, and after you do that. Get a hold of Brogan for me, please.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  The group began to think like battlefield commanders and started talking strategy. It didn’t take long before they had set up various command tasks to work on logistics, response, defense, and dozens of other issues they thought of as they worked far into the night.

  The general stood back and watched his team work. The king and queen may think we are an easy target, but we just might have a few surprises for them.

  He smiled grimly and walked over to oversee what the groups were doing, eager to get to work himself. He didn’t tell the group Mrs. Longstreet was on her way to Mexico City to provide more details of the diabolical plan for what the king and queen hoped to be the final and complete destruction of the Book Liberators.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Deadly Deadline

  The food stations were working. The number of food riots were reduced to a trickle, according to Spencer.

  Queen Jacqueline sat back in the body molding chair, training her feline eyes on the handsome man standing before her, head of her spy network. The king was off somewhere doing whatever he did with his beloved marines, preparing them for the Mexico City invasion. For months she had been toying with the idea of having some fun with Spencer but wasn’t sure if he was sufficiently enamored with her yet.

  She languidly stretched her lean body, letting the black, slinky gown fall open, revealing her shapely, long legs. She saw Spencer’s eyes subtly widen and knew he was almost ready to be tested. Was he ready to do everything she asked of him? Everything?

  But before she could take it any further, King Jamil barged into the room. Drat! He was always ruining things. And so boring. She was tired of his lack of sexual imagination. She watched, amused, as his jaw clinched, and his eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between the queen and her favorite spy.

  “Out!” he yelled at Spencer, who bowed and backed out of the room.

  “What’s the matter with you now, kingee?” the queen snarled as she slowly moved from the chair to the bar to pour herself a stiff drink.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like seeing other men leering at you.”

  Jacqueline snorted and then started to laugh. “Why should you care? It’s not like we are bonded or anything?”

  Jamil sputtered. “It just isn’t right, that’s all. The citizens think we are.”

  “Get over yourself. I was just having some fun. Now that the food sites are working well, I was feeling a bit bored.”

  Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “What have you been up to?”

  Deciding any discussion about the queen’s warped love life was futile, the king welcomed the change in topic.

  “I just came from meeting with Dr. Delis and he seems to have a timetable for when the sarin gas bombs will be ready.”

  “Oh, goody!” the queen crowed as she clapped like a child, “Mayhem and destruction. When does it start?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He thinks he will have a bomb ready for testing in about three months. He wants to know how and where we want to test it. Dr. Delis recommends one of the national parks out west, to avoid contamination and killing innocent people.”

  The queen chortled again. “Killing innocent people? What does he think we are going to do with the bombs? Drop them into the ocean? I think we should pick some out-of-the-way village somewhere and drop a bomb. That way we will find out the full impact on a specific population.”

  Neither of them gave a thought to the handsome young marine standing at attention at the open door to the imperial suite, listening to everything they said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Decision Time

  The return to Tegucigalpa after the earthquake was bittersweet. Marco and Allison were relieved to be home with the twins but concerned for Emily and Brogan because of Frank’s death. They picked up the twins from the nanny and wearily returned to their apartment. It was already almost midnight, and the twins hardly moved as they unstrapped the sleeping children from the robo-car inside their garage.

  “Sweetie, why don’t we work together to put the twins down, then we can head for bed ourselves?” Allison asked through bloodshot eyes. She worked feverishly after the quake tending to the wounded, and hardly slept for several days.

  “Honey, I have a better idea,” Marco replied. “You go take a long, hot shower and I’ll take care of Marcus and Annette.”

  Allison sagged in relief and kissed him while handing Marcus over to him. He had Annette under his arm, like a bag of groceries. The twins were used to his way of carrying them and created a fuss when he didn’t carry them the same way.

  “Ugh,” he groaned, as he carefully held Marcus under his other arm. “They are getting heavy. Guess I’m going to have to figure out a different way to carry them.”

  Allison laughed quietly and turned toward their bedroom. After he changed the sleepy toddlers’ diapers, he put them in their cribs. Fortunately, they were both so sound asleep they didn’t fuss or try to delay bedtime as they normally did. After they were both in bed, he stood for a moment over each crib, placing his hand on his children’s heads and thanking God, as he did every day, for the privilege of being a father.

  He crept out of their room and saw Allison ready to get into bed. He could not restrain himself. He pulled her into his arms. She looked so beautiful after her shower, her blond hair in enticing curls all over her head.

  As Allison nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder, her arms around his waist, he spoke gently. “Allison, if I haven’t told you lately. I love you and the twins so much it makes me unable to speak sometimes.”

  She looked up at him and could see his eyes were filled with tears. “I know, Sweetie. I feel the same way about you and the children.”

  She pulled him down to the bed where they sat with their arms around each other. “I think the trauma of the earthquake really brought home to me how precious they are and how broken I would be without you.”

  “I feel the same way. When we returned from Mexico City and I saw little Marcus and Annette in their cribs at Pops house, I was so relieved to see them. I didn’t want to ever be apart from them again.”

  The couple sat quietly together until Marco asked the question they had not had time to consider until now. “What are we going to do about what Brogan said at the rebel meeting? How do you feel about it?”

  Allison stood up and pulled back the covers on the bed. As she laid down, Marco thought for a moment she had not heard him or did not want to talk about it. Then she spoke.

  “As a doctor, you know my job is to save people’s lives, not take them. So, I agree with that part of what Brogan said. I do not like violence and agree there are probably other ways to fight the emperor. But I also know sometimes evil must be destroyed, even if it means violence. What do you think?”

  “I’m with you. I guess I’ve been fortunate I’ve never had to use violence. My job for BL has always involved behind the scenes stuff, so I haven’t ever had to shoot someone. I’ve thought a lot about whether I could kill somebody. I know if something or someone threatened you or our children, I probably could. But it doesn’t mean I would want to.”

  “So, Marco, how are we going to respond to Brogan’s plan: to go off somewhere and develop non-violent ways to fight the emperor?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m really torn about it. One side of me wants desperately to go with her, but another side of me is happy with our lives here in Tegucigalpa. I like my job, and I think you like yours. The thought of leaving my parents here and taking the twins away from them just doesn’t feel right.”

  “I feel the same way.” Allison paused for a moment. “Why d
on’t we wait to decide until Brogan solidifies her plans a bit more, and after we have a chance to talk to your parents?”

  Marco, who had already moved under the light bed covers, laid down beside her and agreed. “Let’s hold off. Brogan said she would be here for at least another month, so it should give us time to hear more about what she thinks and how Papa and Mama feel.”

  The reached for each other in the dark and fell into an exhausted sleep with their arms around each other. It was one decision they could leave until tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  An Overdue Conversation

  The entire return trip to Tegucigalpa, Emily was quiet, which wasn’t like her at all. She caught her mother looking at her quizzically a couple of times, but she pretended she didn’t see. She wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Her grandfather’s death had impacted her deeply. When her father died, she was too young to understand; Pop-Pop’s death was her first personal experience with death.

  She kept telling herself he was in heaven with Grandma Emily. He tried to instill in her his own unwavering faith in a loving God. But now she struggled to comprehend how a loving God could allow so many to die from the earthquake, including her grandfather. But as she wrestled internally with her doubts, the logic side of her brain kept asking herself, why should she be exempt from sorrow and death?

  She still struggled to understand how her mother could still seem to have a strong faith, despite the horrible things she endured. They took the train back home and she pretended to doze a lot, while having a difficult silent conversation with herself. It wasn’t until they were almost back at Papa Marco and Maria’s hacienda she finally decided it was time to talk to her mother.

  Brogan was staring out the window of the sleek train, as she had during most of the trip. Ordinarily, the 1,100-mile trip would have taken about eight hours, since the train could travel over 125-miles per hour. But, because of the earthquake and aftershocks for hundreds of miles outside of Mexico City, there were frequent stops due to damaged rails. The usual eight-hour trip had already taken 24 hours when Emily turned to her mother.