A Place Called Zamora

by LB Gschwandtner

  Shag held out his hand, and Gruen gave him two heavy bags.

  “I’m supposed to count it,” he said.

  “Go ahead. I don’t give a shit what you do. But the job has to be done exactly at eleven, so you’d better haul ass and get back to your boss.” He sneered at the word “boss.”

  Shag took the bag to a round table and opened it up. He dumped the coins, and Jake came to stand next to him.

  “We could just kill this Scrounger and keep the gold,” he said to Shag.

  “Yeah, we could. But we won’t, because Fuller’s got some powerful allies, and they’re the kind that like to hurt.”

  He finished counting, gave Jake his share, and went with Gruen to the door.

  “Okay. I’ll be at Fuller’s in ten minutes, and the job will be done at eleven. Then we all better lay low.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll all go off at eleven. And Fuller’s got a closet with a huge battery backup, so he can keep going no matter what.”

  “I just want to know: Can they trace the power outage and the InCom change back to Fuller?”

  “They can try. But Fuller says they’ll be tracing right back to themselves and their own tracer in an endless futile loop,” Shag said. He shook his head. “He’s a genius with this stuff.”

  Huston roused himself from his musings and memories. The past was over. Yes, Saskia was still beautiful, but she wasn’t here with him. She never would be. Her fate had been determined before that one night together when she’d given in to him with pleasure and they’d made love under the stars, facing the ocean that in those days still glittered with a million tiny sparkles and bright slashes of white under the moonlight.

  He could barely believe it when she suggested they get out of the car to look down at the ocean. The flat rock ledge high above the water was better suited to eagles, but she showed no fear and laughed at the freedom of their perch.

  “We could just take off from here and fly to the edge of the world,” she’d said.

  She’d raised her lovely bare arms. The bracelets clinked as they slid down, and she spun around like a dervish.

  He’d been afraid she would fall, so he reached out for her without thinking, in what was his first unpremeditated act of the night. Because she was spinning so fast, his hands clasped her breasts instead of taking her at the waist, and he pulled her away from the rocky edge into his arms.

  She’d tilted her head back and laughed again.

  “Don’t you want me to fly away?” she’d asked with a smile, her breath scented with wine.

  “Never,” he’d said, and leaned down to kiss her.

  In spite of himself, knowing he had to get to The Protections before they did, Huston stood at the table, his hand covering the bag of gold coins, and remembered every delicious detail of that night. How she’d bent her body away from him for just a few seconds. And then how she’d let him kiss her. It was more than he’d dared hope. And what happened next astonished him. And then he forgot any plan he’d had. In a moment they were on the rock—she with her silk blouse unbuttoned and her skirt up around her waist, telling him to go ahead, to make love to her.

  He’d done it quickly, so she wouldn’t change her mind, so she wouldn’t push him away. He’d laid his jacket under her body and taken off his trousers.

  “Your shirt too,” she’d said. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

  Then their bodies were entwined, moving quickly, and she was so responsive that he had to hold himself back until she was ready, fully ready, and they reached their peak together.

  When it was over, and her head rested on his bare chest, and they could hear waves crashing far below them, she’d asked, “Do you love me?”

  “Yes,” he’d said.

  “Tell me,” she’d said.

  “I love you.” It was the only time in his life he said those words.

  “Then show me again.”

  They made love again, slowly this time.

  But she never said those words to him. And how she really felt would remain a mystery to him. One month later, she was married. It was rumored they lived apart from the beginning and her new husband, Villinkash, gained control of a great portion of her money with the marriage and took over the city in a corrupt, prearranged, bloodless coup.

  When the electricity and InComs cut off, the city erupted like a volcano. The only light came from constant blasts. These were bigger ones that rocked the streets. Chunks of cement flew and glass windows shattered, spiked shards crashing to the ground like hail. The frightening noise woke people from their sleep; children huddled and babies screamed. In the Tower of David, people came to the gaping openings where windows had once been to stare at the city that seemed to be descending into hell. If it was war, who were the factions fighting each other, they wondered. Rumors spread like smoke blowing on a wind that wasn’t there at all, so still was the night except for the turmoil. Rumors said it was Villinkash blowing up the city to find Niko and El. But no one knew where they were.

  Then, at exactly midnight, the InComs sprang back to life with Niko’s face and a voiceover. The message that played over and over said:

  “Resist!”

  “Take back your city.”

  “Do not be afraid.”

  “The city belongs to the people.”

  They barely had time to say goodbye. Just as Niko and El turned to Old Merrie, there was an enormous explosion way beyond the main guard tower, and they could see all the guards streaming out of the towers toward the noise and fire that followed it. It was just one more explosion during a night of blasts going off all over the city.

  El grabbed Old Merrie by the hands. They looked into each other’s eyes.

  “I may never see you again,” she said. “Thank you for helping us and for showing me the Glimmer that day on the roof. I’ll never forget you.”

  “Here.” Niko saw Old Merrie pressed something hard and flat into El’s hand. “If I’d had a daughter, I’d’a given this to her. You take care out there.”

  Niko touched El’s arm. “Come on, we have to run like hell now.” He waved to Old Merrie and mouthed a thank you, and they took off for the tunnel.

  Before they climbed down into it, Niko looked back along the barbed wire. A lone figure, Huston, stood by a motorcycle down near the first guard tower. It was not so far away, and, although maybe it was just a trick of the emergency spotlights playing on his face, to Niko Huston seemed to be smiling. Niko raised his hand to wave and then it occurred to him that Huston had set the explosion and, once again, Niko wondered at this crafty, improbable rescuer.

  “Come on, Niko,” El called from inside the tunnel. “It’s so dark in here.”

  So Niko turned away and climbed down into the tunnel. Just before he disappeared from sight, he looked one last time. Huston had raised his arm in a salute. He just stood there, his shadow wavy on the ground from the spotlight. And then his hand snapped down, and Niko descended to the bottom where El was waiting.

  He reached for her in the utter darkness and, finding her hand, took it in his and began to feel his way forward, leading El as one would a small child.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, and they stumbled along, unable to stand upright. The dark closed like deep waters around them.

  Old Merrie shut the doors on her cart. She stood and watched the horizon as if trying to gaze into the future, but all she could see were lines upon lines of barbed wire and sporadically placed gun stands where no sentries stood guard. These were strange days. She had been out here a few times before. Always there had been guards, ominous and ever-present. But she’d gotten them to come down off their stands, one by one, for special treats she’d managed to cadge. One time, she had cigars. Another time, bottles of icy cold beer. So when she heard footsteps at her back, she didn’t flinch or even turn. Just kept staring as far as she could see.

  “What’re you up to, Old Merrie? Out here late at night like this?”
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  Huston’s voice was gruff but somehow familiar. Maybe she’d done business with him before. Turning slowly with a big grin on her face, she said, “I got to make my living, don’t I? Don’t matter none to me what’s happenin’ on the street from day to day.” She hummed a little. “You know that song? Keeps coming back to mind now and again.”

  “No, I don’t know your song. And you’d better get on home before someone hauls your old ass in for questioning.” He sounded rough, but she saw a tiny smile at the corners of his mouth. Or was it those strange lights, glaring and yet not completely illuminating? This light could fool you if you weren’t careful.

  Old Merrie bent over her cart and opened one door.

  “I got pineapples today.” She put a finger to her lips. “Give you a special price.” She had to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t see when Niko and El came out of the tunnel and had to get through the last two courses of barbed wire. “Are there others?” Now that he had spotted her, maybe he wasn’t alone.

  “They all got called away to deal with that big explosion. All hell’s breaking loose over there since the lights went out.” He came around to the cart and peered into the dark cavity. “What else you hiding in here?”

  “I got a few yams left. Was goin’ to cook ’em for my dinner, but if you want those too . . .”

  He looked her up and down, looked all around The Perimeters, looked up at the guard stand, which was empty. “Anyone else would haul you in, anyway. Did you come all the way out here just on the chance someone wanted to buy some yams?”

  It wasn’t the usual way a guard would question a person. Something about him was different.

  Old Merrie had been around a lot longer than the guards, a lot longer than most of the inhabitants of Infinius. She knew what they were capable of, what the Regime could do to a person. The thought ran through her mind that she could lean down as if to pull out a pineapple, grab the carving knife she kept in her cart, and slit this man’s throat with one quick swipe. She could cut him up and dump his body parts all over the city, and no one would ever know. Yes, she could. It was just the two of them standing by The Perimeters. Just two people, each with a weapon, each with a need.

  But having butchered pigs and steers in her earlier years, she knew how much blood there would be, and besides, she was no killer. She chuckled at herself, at him, at the situation.

  “You bring me in, they goin’ to laugh you right outta that place, honey. Best you take a pineapple and a yam home for supper and we both call it a day. What you say?” She grinned at him and leaned down to pull out the food. “Oh look, what else I got me in here.”

  She wrapped her stubby fingers around the neck of a bottle and lifted it up.

  “Rum?” he asked.

  Old Merrie winked at him. “I guess this’d make a nice punch for after working hours. What’d you think of that?”

  “How much?” he asked.

  For a second, she thought of giving him both the bottle and the pineapple, but she immediately thought that might look like a bribe and make him suspicious again. So instead she upped the price.

  “Twenty-five.” She said it fast and in a definite voice.

  “Too much.”

  He’d taken the bait. She was almost giddy. She stared out past the barbed wires and saw, far in the distance, two small dots on the horizon. It looked like they were crawling on the ground, slowly, stopping now and then. She figured they must be cutting their way through the barbed wire, so she would have to drag out this negotiation.

  “But this is a rare, special rum. I won’t never have this bottle again. Been saving it for some higher-up one day who wants something he can’t get nowhere. And here you are.”

  “I’ll give you fifteen and no more.”

  “Well, but it’s two—no, four—for the pineapple. It’s the last one I got.”

  “Okay, then, fifteen plus two. Seventeen.”

  “No, I won’t sell it at all. I should save it.” She tilted her head and squinted at the barbed wires again as if considering her options. She knew he could just swipe it out of her hands. But something held both of them from moving out of this moment.

  “Old Merrie, you’re one mean old woman.”

  “No, I ain’t. Just an old woman got to make a living with whatever I can.”

  They had disappeared over a rise. She knew those fences went on a long way, but with them out of sight, she could finish this up.

  “I’ll give you twenty and not one more.”

  “Twenty-two and they’re both yours.”

  He fished in his pants pocket and pulled out some bills, handed them to her, and reached for the bottle. Old Merrie stuffed the bills into her skirt pocket, took out a pineapple, and wrapped it in an old piece of brown paper.

  “There you are. You gonna enjoy your supper tonight.”

  She shut the bin door and turned her cart back to the dusty path. It was much easier to push now. She bumped along after raising her hand in a backward wave at the man and the others who were now too far beyond The Perimeters to see her.

  Huston watched two tiny dots moving slowly out beyond the most distant barbed wire. He would go back to Villinkash and report that The Perimeters were secure, that no one knew where the two of them were hiding. He would make a great show of anger and frustration. He would get his lieutenant to fix the barbed wire and then give him safe passage with his family out of the city on a boat leaving for a place so far away he would never come back to tell what he’d been instructed to do.

  Huston had no way of knowing what would happen to Villinkash and the rest of them, but he was determined to survive this as he’d survived everything else. He was as sure of that as he was of the bag of gold hidden in the pouch behind his seat as he gunned the engine and climbed the hills that led back to her house. He grinned as he thought of those two dots in the dark landscape heading for some promised land to find the love that had escaped him eighteen years ago.

  He made the last swerve to her drive fast, too fast, but he didn’t care. He was high on the changes happening on this darkest night, on the heat and the smell of explosions and fires hanging in the air. He was high on their escape and on his own sense of adventure. Indeed, he thought, when there is chaos, there is opportunity. You can hide a lot in chaos. You can change minds and affect outcomes. He hadn’t started this uprising, but he’d known it would come at some point. He was glad it was here.

  He roared into her driveway and sped along until he arrived at the house, skidded to a stop, and fairly jumped off the bike. It was like being a kid again. Free and careless and bold.

  He pounded on the door and saw a sliver of light at the bottom growing stronger. Then the door opened a crack, so he pushed it wide. The same servant stood there in a bathrobe and slippers, holding an oil lamp. She looked confused. And then afraid.

  “Where is she?” he barked at her.

  Before the servant could answer, he saw Saskia behind her.

  She hand-signed to the servant, “It’s all right, Nora, let him come in.”

  He brushed past the old woman. And there was Saskia in a soft sleeveless silk robe over matching pajamas, her hair down around her shoulders in curls like waves on the sea. She held a candle to light her path. Her feet looked like fluffy birds, all pink and frothy. For a moment, Huston hesitated.

  “Follow me,” she said, and turned.

  She led him to a sort of den with a desk and couch and stuffed velvet chairs, bookcases and lamps, and a small serving trolley on wheels with glasses and bottles of liquor. She put down the candle and lit two others so the room was infused with the intimate, old-fashioned light of a Vermeer painting.

  She shut the door and went to the trolley.

  “Drink?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Tell me about your wedding. Was the marriage consummated?” he asked, his voice low.

  “You’ve turned obvious over these years,” she answered him.

  “I was always o
bvious,” he said. “Isn’t that what you saw in me?”

  “What makes you think I ever saw anything in you?”

  Even after all that had happened, she could still make him feel like a boy from the wrong side of town. “Was it?” he asked again.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because I have to know. Did you marry him for the power, for the position?”

  “To ask me such a question is to demean yourself, not me.”

  “Answer me. Did he fuck you?” Now his voice was louder. More demanding.

  “You mean the way you did?”

  “I never did. We made love. There’s a difference. You were more than willing. You wanted it. Now answer me or I’ll . . .”

  “You’ll what? Strike me? Rape me? Kill me? I died long ago, except for one thing. One thing kept me alive all these years. And now I hear it’s happening. And I’m happy. For the first time in all these years, I’m happy.”

  She poured herself a shot of vodka and drank it off.

  “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I have to know. Did he fuck you? Just answer me that one question.”

  “You men get so hung up on a woman’s virginity. You think you were my first and then there was nothing for nineteen years? What is so important about a body, anyway? Just a bunch of water and some bones. And a little of this.” She poured another drink and he was at her side, her wrist in his grasp as she held the glass.

  “I’m not hung up, as you put it, on your body. I just want to know if you gave yourself to him the way you gave yourself to me.”

  “And what if I did? Or didn’t? What difference does it make now?”

  “It makes a difference. Now tell me. Did he fuck you after me? Did he?”

  She stared at him, his fingers tight around her wrist. And something in her loosened, like a belt falling away. He let go of her hand, and she put down the glass.

  “All these years, I’ve lived alone like a nun. Worse, I didn’t even have God to love. Knowing you were out there, in the city, so close and so far. Me and Nora going about our daily lives, our little routines. You say you have to know about him. There is nothing to know about him that you don’t already know. Did I love him? Did he love me? Did we share our lives? Am I invested in his power? How can you ask such things? And yet you do.”