Dire : Wars (The Dire Saga Book 4)

by Andrew Seiple

  Fuck. “Can’t, sorry.”

  “You can. Just tell us where it is. Cooperate with us,” Damiano pleaded, offering me a hand, palm up.

  I shook my head, and his mouth folded into a frown. “Very well. Then I am sorry, but you must stay here until we have regrouped and are ready to move.”

  I rubbed my chin. “And when will that be?”

  “We are even now getting stragglers from the City. Once every survivor has made it out, we shall move on.”

  Mitch jerked upright, staring at Damiano in horror. But the Captain ignored him. “Walk patrols around outside. Give them privacy but no escape. Make sure our guests do not leave, under any circumstances.” He reached for the gun, and I shook my head.

  “You have the magazine. Give us this, a sign of goodwill, at least.”

  Damiano considered it, nodded. He stood and left, Paan with him.

  The four kids saluted, and filed out to begin their sentry duty. The second they were gone and the door was shut, I looked to Mitch. He looked back with a sheepish grin, that I didn’t buy for a second. He was trying for grandfatherly, and failing, hard.

  I glared at him, and picked up the bullet I’d jacked from its chamber and palmed, reloading it into the pistol while he watched. His grin faded as my fingers worked.

  “Start talking,” I told him, and he did.

  CHAPTER 5: PARADISE LOST

  “You think North America’s got a monopoly on native oppression? It gets no better when you go South. If it wasn’t the Spanish, it was the English. If it wasn’t the English, it was the French. And don’t get me started on the modern Americans. Ask me after the lecture about this company called United Fruit. Anyway, the scars of colonialism will be a long time fading, here. And the worst part of it is that like any abuse, often the abused becomes the abuser, once they gain power.”

  --Benito Garcia, history professor at Mariposa University, prior to his arrest in 2002.

  Benny and Mary entered the room. Mitch looked down at his hands, looked up to me. “Untie me first, maybe?”

  Mary started towards him, and I lifted my free hand. “No. Questions first.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “CIA, Mitch? Really?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “And this is a gun.” I pointed it at him. “Let’s try again. CIA, Mitch?”

  “Dorothy...” Mary whispered, horrified. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Gonna depend on his answers.” I didn’t take my eyes off Mitch. To my side, Benny started to edge toward me. “Nope. Stay put, Benny. Had a rough night already, but Mitch is going to have a really bad day if he doesn’t start trying honesty for a change.”

  “I’ve been entirely honest with you,” Mitch said. “I’ve only ever lied by omission.”

  “Why here?” I waved the gun about, careful not to point it at anyone as I gestured. “Why does this village warrant a pair of CIA agents?”

  “It’s the perfect vantage point. Corazon’s up to something. You haven’t noticed how eager I’ve been to run errands in the city? I make the rounds of my contacts, and drop off my report.”

  “And Colleen minds the vox.”

  He smiled. “Keep your voice down. And no, I mind the voxcaster. I just did that to throw them off the track.”

  “Why?” I pointed the gun back at him. “Why the whole charade? Got a few hypotheses on your logic here, but... kind of want to hear it from your own mouth.” Pain in the ass working without self-referencing pronouns, sometimes. But I soldiered on.

  “To free up Colleen,” he said. “She’s more of a wilderness expert than me. She headed out last night to try and get a better angle on things, and didn’t make it back in before the rebels got here.” He closed his eyes. “That goddamn idiot girl.”

  “Colleen?”

  “Paan.”

  “Stay on track,” I told him. “You’re freeing up Colleen for what, precisely?”

  “Whatever she can accomplish. To be honest I’m not sure I’ll make it out of here, so in the worst case she’ll be able to report back to her... to the agency.”

  There had been a definite pause there.

  “Would she report back to the agency?”

  “Of course.”

  “You know, it occurs that we’ve just kind of assumed she’s CIA too. Is that so?” I watched him like a hawk watches a particularly tasty rodent.

  “No, she isn’t with the agency. And don’t ask further. That part really is classified.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Mary whispered. “You put all the Chamis at risk with this.”

  “I put them at risk?” Mitch cocked an eyebrow at her. “You looked outside lately? I’m not the one who brought the rebels here.”

  I cleared my throat. “Nonetheless, the risk was there, and still remains. If Corazon found out—”

  “I’d be detained and sent back on the first banana boat!” Mitch snapped. “He expects us to watch him. He’s an old cold war monster, he knows the game by now. We made sure the Chamis didn’t know a thing about us, they were in no danger... no more than normal, anyway.”

  “And yet they did find out,” I uncocked the gun, flipped the safety on, and tucked it back into my waistband. “You’re slipping.”

  “They had to have found out from one of my informants. We were keeping an eye on the rebels too.” He grimaces. “That concerns me. A lot.”

  A hand on my shoulder. Benny stood over me, with his other hand outstretched. “Dorothy. Please give me the gun.”

  “Don’t bother,” Mitch said. “She won’t use it.”

  “Nonetheless.” The big man insisted.

  I shrugged and handed it over. “If it makes you feel better.”

  “It doesn’t. I hate guns. Now I have some questions.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “What is this, whoever holds the gun gets to ask the questions? Shall we pass it around? Make of it a proper gun-quisition?”

  He let the poor mangled pun pass without notice, and kept looking at me with sad eyes. “No. I just want to know who you are.”

  “What?”

  Mary moved over to Mitch, started untying him as she kept checking me with nervous glances. “There’s something off about you, Dorothy. It just doesn’t quite fit. You’ve got a strange way of talking, and you’re always sneaking out at night.”

  Damn. I thought I’d been more careful.

  “We figured it was none of our business,” Benny said, putting the gun up on the mantle. “But we figured that whatever Mitch and Colleen had was none of our business, either, and here we are.”

  “I’ll third it,” Mitch said, rubbing circulation back into his wrists. “You reacted a little too smoothly with Damiano and his little posse. And you’re packing heat. Not to mention the other little quirks and tics I’ve observed about you... I’m trained to read people, and all my instincts are telling me you’re dangerous. Got a few bodies in your past, am I right?”

  I grimaced. I didn’t have many friends. These people, along with the few villagers who would interact with me of their own free will, were about it for the last seven months. Being dishonest with them, particularly after I’d insisted on honesty from Mitch earlier, felt hypocritical.

  Still, he’d been cagey with his answers. I didn’t have to, nor should I tell them everything.

  “Can’t go into too many details, of course,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “Pretty sure a good amount of it is classified. Also pretty sure it would draw the attention of powerful enemies to you.”

  I rose, glanced out of the windows. The rebels were keeping a loose perimeter around the hut. The ex-beggar was talking with the big farm kid, and the other two were about twenty feet away, circling but looking bored. We were fine to discuss sensitive matters.

  Probably should have checked before I started interrogating Mitch, come to think of it. Oh well, I’d been distracted. No harm done.

  “So who are you working for, and what’s your goal here?” M
itch asked.

  “Working for a third party, uninvolved in this mess. Things went bad, and...” I sighed, to cover my lack of a personal pronoun. “Came here to atone. Do some good work, and hide out for a while, too. Won’t deny that. Also to catch up with an old friend. Snuck off to meet him last night. No goals here beyond those, was going to depart in a few weeks.”

  “Your old friend, is that where you got the earrings, then?” Mary asked. “They’re gorgeous, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Were they? I hadn’t designed them for that, but whatever. “Yes, that’s where they came from.”

  “Hm.” Mitch didn’t look too thrilled. “I don’t like the fact that you’re being so vague. But I’m not inclined to push the matter, unless...” he looked to Mary, then to Benny.

  “She handed over the gun without arguing,” Benny pointed to the mantle. “I think unless it comes up, we can drop it for now.” His eyes turned back to me. “Y’all tell us if it’s going to come up, you hear?”

  I shrugged. “Unlikely, but sure.” I checked out the window again. No change.

  “Well, we’re not secret agents or on the run from anyone, so I reckon we’re the most boring folks here,” Mary slid her arm around Benny’s waist. Benny hugged her back, closing his eyes as he leaned into her. They made a hell of a contrast, the big dark man finding comfort in the tiny, tan woman’s arms.

  I envied them that. A twinge of pain and loss struck me, nothing I could quite describe in words. I looked away.

  “If that’s all, we need to start discussing ways to get out of here,” Mitch cleared his throat. “I give it about a day, then the army’s going to be up here. We don’t want to be around for what follows.”

  “What does follow?” I asked.

  “A massacre, if the rebels aren’t gone before the army gets here.” Mitch grimaced. “And I don’t have a lot of faith that the rebels are going to go anytime soon. Captain bleeding heart over there said as much, that they were going to wait for stragglers. Which means that enough people knew this was a rendezvous point, which means the loyalist forces are going to find out sooner or later... if they haven’t already.” He laughed. “This is assuming that no one saw them take the road up this way, and that’s a pretty lousy assumption. This was the opposite of a clean op.”

  A chill down my spine. “They’ll massacre the rebels, sure. But the Chamis, too?”

  Mitch snorted. “Are you kidding? This tribe’s squatting on prime fishing grounds, now that the rest of the southern coast has been overdeveloped. It was worthless by comparison when Corazon so generously returned it to them, but now it’s gone up in value. He’ll use the excuse to slaughter them and blame it on the rebels. Oh, they were dead when we got here, the army will say. See what depths the rebels will sink to?”

  “They won’t, they wouldn’t!” Mary burst out. “We’re here. We’d tell the world what happened.”

  “Does Corazon know you’re CIA?” I asked.

  “Hell no. Which is why they’d make sure we died, too. Another thing to blame on the rebels.” Mitch’s face twisted. “Fucking asshole.”

  “Here now!” Benny said. “No need for that language.”

  “Sorry,” Mitch looked away. “Anyway, we need to be out of here. Radio’s no good, they’d jam it. Can’t rely on broadcast messages, the few towers in the cities don’t have the capability to reach the mainland. But if I can get to my voxcaster, I can see about getting us extracted.”

  “Would they extract the Chamis?” I wondered aloud.

  “Not enough capability for that. Best thing the Chamis could do is melt into the jungle, leave the rebels to their fate. The elders are sharp, I’d imagine they’re discussing that right now.”

  “They’re pretty attached to this land,” I muttered, rubbing my chin. “They went through a lot to get it. It’s not a certainty that they’d leave.”

  “No, but greed is the biggest certainty around. This is an opportunity Corazon will see and grab. Best they could do is get to the northern tribes, wait it out, and raise a fuss with the UN afterwards.”

  I analyzed the situation, checking the window again to give myself time to figure out the proper words and approach. A second was more than enough for my mind to sort itself, and genius supplied the next question.

  “The rebels. They wanted legitimacy and recognition from the United States.”

  “This bunch does,” Mitch shrugged. “The other rebel groups up north, not so much. I think. There’s other people keeping an eye on that situation. And that’s the problem... if they were united, they might be able to cut a deal up the chain from me. But they’re not. I can tell you my superiors won’t want to waste their time.”

  “True. Backing a failed bid would be much worse than letting a massacre happen.” I grimaced. I’d spent a good amount of my off-time analyzing realpolitik, which is mostly about land. And economics, which is usually all about land, at the heart of it. We are a thoroughly territorial species, and it dominates our lives. Which causes problems, when somebody gets the bright idea that they can use your land better than you are.

  “How can you say that a massacre would be better?” Mary burst out, and we all looked to her. Mitch looked to share my surprise, but Benny showed only concern. Mary pulled free of his arms, waving her hands as she paced around the table. “If y’all are right, the Chamis are in danger here! These kind people that we’ve worked with, lived with, witnessed to... How can we let that happen?”

  “What precisely are we supposed to do?” Mitch asked. “The rebels screwed the pooch here, and they’re not about to let us do anything to help the situation. We’re bargaining chips to them, at most. The best thing to do is to get away—”

  “No,” I whispered, and something in my tone made Mitch freeze, made them all look to me.

  “She will not run,” I growled. “They will not die. Not on her watch.” Iron determination filled me, straightened my spine. The rebels had just cause, the Chamis had innocence, and Corazon had no idea of just how much he’d fucked up. “Not today!” I shouted, pounding my hand into the table. “Not tomorrow, not ever! Not while she lives!” I roared.

  And as the anger filled me, purified me, I knew it to be right. Too long had my face been outside my mask. Too long I’d skulked and hidden, watching as the world slid further into corruption and horror, bit by bit! Now hell was on my doorstep, and I was damned if I would stand by and watch it happen to people I’d grown to love!

  Benny took a step backward. “Dorothy? Who are you talking about? Are you all right?”

  Mary whimpered

  Mitch just stared, gears turning behind his eyes. “That friend of yours just became relevant, didn’t he?”

  “No.” I weighed the pros and cons, and decided that I owed them the truth nonetheless. I’d find a street doc or fleshcrafter after this and get my face remade, if it caused problems.

  Still, I didn’t owe the rebels anything, and my outburst had probably brought them in to eavesdrop. I glanced out the window. “The truth of the matter, is Dorothy isn’t her name. The truth is— oh shit get down!”

  “What?” Mary burst out. “That makes no— ”

  “Down!” I roared, and took my own advice, slapping my pocket. The shield generator hummed to life. “Amp it up to max!” I howled, and the voice-activated generator complied, shimmering into existence in a ten-foot sphere that filled most of the room.

  The shack exploded.

  It was so loud that it was silent. I slapped my hands to my ears and opened my mouth, to lessen the chance that my eardrums would rupture. The sound went through us, vibrating even through the field, as the pressure changed and shrapnel howled all through what had been a room not two seconds ago.

  Once the shack was gone, and the last flickers of shrapnel had ceased to ripple off the shield, sound returned as suddenly as sunlight, as the dust started to settle. Shouting, rapid orders in Spanish, and screams. Many screams. I stood, scanning around. My ears rang and hurt, but no
t so much that I couldn’t act. Eardrums intact then, good. To my side the others stirred, and together we looked in horror at the village.

  What was left of it.

  The artillery barrage had been brief, brutal, and completely unexpected. The rest of our shacks were down, and about a third of the huts had been pasted. The rebels had gotten the worst of it, but some of the bodies I could see wore Chamis clothing. I swallowed, hard.

  And then a rising whistle caught my attention, piercing even through my ringing ears. “They’re still shooting!” I shouted. “Follow and keep to the trees!”

  I almost tripped over the girl who’d been a prostitute as we ran. She was missing everything from the waist down, and I saw Mary stagger as she took in the gore. I couldn’t fault her; I was having trouble with it myself. No stranger to violence, or even war, but this was the first time I’d been witness to an artillery barrage from the unwilling position of ground zero.

  But I put it from my mind, and kept my focus on the now. On surviving. The shield generator hadn’t been made for full extension and it had taken a battering from the near-direct hit on the shack. We needed cover, and so we ran deeper into the jungle. We weren’t the only ones. The Chamis fled with us, simply dropping what they had and hurtling down paths they’d spent years treading. The rebels tried to follow, but couldn’t match their speed. I watched as rockets came screaming down from the sky, leaving smoking contrails and throwing splinters and gore into the air. My shield flickered again, briefly, and I kept moving.

  Finally, we reached the spring’s clearing, along with perhaps half of the village and a quarter of the rebels. A harried Gulam took stock there, sending the wounded on to Birin, and directing the healthy out of the way. I reached into my pocket and dialed the force field down to save its power cell, and caught my breath at the same time.

  “Mally!” A woman screamed in Chamis, and I realized it was Escala. “Where is Mally! Where is Omya! She was watching her!”