The White Warrior

by Marilyn Donnellan

  “The focus of the meeting,” Brogan continued, “will be on Juan and his father, Max’s, progress on developing a revolutionary force to combat General Priest’s devastating attacks on local BL cells. Although cells are incredibly successful in hiding millions of books, too many members are being slaughtered and it must be stopped.

  “Other than that, we’ll get acquainted with our newest council member, Sandra Bernhardt, the one who provided all the disguises. We will hear reports from all council members on their achievements.”

  She sat on the motorcycle’s seat as she talked. Now she stood up in surprise as she saw two small pirates lunging at them.

  “Avast ye landlubbers!” Mateo hollered as he lunged at Bryan with his stick. He rigged an eye patch from a leaf and a piece of string and wore a peasant tunic tied at the waist for his pirate’s outfit. His olive skin and slick black hair added to the pirate look. Although short for his age, he would undoubtedly grow more as he arrived at adolescence in a few years. Obviously, his parents had been reading or telling him stories about pirates.

  “Yeah, abast you landbummers!” Little Emily echoed, running toward Pop-pop 2. She also wore an eye patch and tunic was also tied at the waist with string. Frank’s too-large sombrero fell across her eyes every time she lunged with a crooked little stick. Before she reached him, Pop-pop 2 grabbed her and started tickling her.

  The adults joined the game, screaming in fear and running to hide behind trees as the children chased them. Herman, of course, joined in the fun, finally grabbing the bottom of Mateo’s tunic bottom, causing him to crash to the ground. Emily bumped into him and they tumbled together in laughter. The adults each grabbed a miniature pirate and tickled them until they cried, “Give up!”

  The laughter ringing in their ears, Brogan and Bryan said their goodbyes and rode off on the motorcycle. Herman tried to follow them, but Brogan told him to “stay.” He sat dejectedly at the edge of the clearing, watching them depart. As they headed down the mountainside, Brogan turned and took one last look back at the two small pirates and her father and father-in-law. It was never easy to say goodbye, but at least they left them laughing and with some good memories.

  The trip to Mazatlán took about three hours. The roads had not been repaired over the years so had many bone-jarring potholes to navigate. Not much motorized traffic competed with them on the road, but they had to be alert for peasants who walked to various tiny villages located off the main road. Whenever peasants saw their uniforms they immediately moved off the road and kept their eyes down.

  As they got closer to Mazatlán they saw the Pacific Ocean in the distance, the air becoming cooler from ocean breezes. The road began to improve, and motorized traffic increased. They discussed whether it made sense for two marines to drive a motorcycle into town and decided it didn’t, since marines ordinarily traveled by rail. So, they started looking for a spot to ditch the motorcycle.

  “There!” Brogan hollered above the roar of the motorcycle, tugging on Bryan’s sleeve as she pointed toward a small abandoned shed at the side of the road. Fortunately, they saw no one as they pulled the bike into it. The roof was partially caved in, but they could use large banana leaves to cover the bike. Hopefully it would be safe from prying eyes until they returned. Bryan pocketed the key and they carefully looked around to make sure no one had seen them. They used a large banana leaf to brush away signs of motorcycle tires and footprints.

  As they stepped back on to the road, they tried to brush dust off their uniforms, checking to make sure they were at least half-way presentable and their forged military paper easily accessible in case they ran into any military personnel. They walked the rest of the way into Mazatlán, probably not more than a mile. Bryan had gotten ahold of an old map of the original city. Though certainly not as large as it was before the war, with ruins scattered among busy shops, the city still maintained some resemblance to the original layout of streets. As they walked further west, toward the ocean, they saw the steeple from the basilica, providing them with a perfect marker for their destination.

  It was noon and they were both hungry. Fortunately, a small taco shop was open for business in the next block, so they stopped and ordered some tacos and a margarita for each of them, paying cash rather than by T-chips. As they sat on old benches at wooden tables, eating their lunch, Brogan practiced lowering her voice into a more masculine register.

  A couple of times, Bryan chuckled as she forgot herself and her voice came out in her normal, higher register. It sounded odd coming out of someone who had the appearance of a man, albeit a very young-looking man.

  Finally, Brogan had enough of his teasing. She stood up suddenly, scowled at him and said in a deep bass voice, “You may be a colonel, but I know exactly where your family jewels are and I’m not one bit afraid of you.”

  Just then, a waiter walked up. Brogan spoke in Spanish, although not very well, but enough so he understood what she said. The poor man, thinking he had walked into a fight between two military officers, backed into an empty table, which tipped over along with a couple of chairs. He fell and began scrambling on his hands and knees toward the door of the little restaurant. He was a short, portly, older man with a wisp of graying hair combed across the top of his balding head. The somewhat-white apron on top of his tunic was spotted with sweat and food, and his knees now covered with whatever remnants of food spattered on the ground under the tipped over table.

  Bryan and Brogan began to laugh so hard they had tears running down their cheeks. The poor man had no idea why they laughed and looked up at them in bewilderment.

  Bryan went over and helped him up, while Brogan set the table and chairs back. They slipped him a few extra pesos and, linked arm in arm, headed toward the basilica, their spirits lifted and ready for whatever lay ahead.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Betrayal

  It was difficult for Juan to leave Mateo with Frank and Emily but knew it to be the best solution. More and more unemployed marines arrived every day to join the rebel army in Laredo and had been for two years. Keeping everyone fed and getting them into shape for a fight created a never-ending struggle. It wouldn’t be long before word got back to General Priest rebel forces had an army and where, leaving not much time to prepare.

  Laredo was not a safe place for his family. His mother, Guadalupe, and his partner, Lolita, traveled to Mexico City to visit family until after the next council meeting. Mateo begged to go with his father. He agreed to take him as far as Cosala and pick him up on his way back to Laredo.

  Juan’s father, Max, oversaw training of rebel recruits in Laredo. They uncovered huge stashes of weapons, ammunition and uniforms in what were the underground storage units for the 21st century air force and army units. When both forces disbanded after WWIII, all material had been secured and abandoned. Among BL recruits were former air force and army security personnel who knew where the weapons and ammunition were stashed and how to access them. Finding the stashes proved to be a tremendous morale booster for the new rebel army.

  Although outdated, since it was stored in secure, air-tight units everything could still be used. The prime minister’s armed forces were outfitted with the latest in armored uniforms and laser weapons, but old-fashioned weapons, anti-aircraft shoulder launch missiles, tanks and other armored vehicles would still be of tremendous help in the coming fight. Included in the stash, were some armor piercing bullets essential against Altero’s tanks.

  Unfortunately, although some younger recruits were enmeshed in electronics, they either couldn’t read or could only read the simplest of material. So, Juan established a basic reading class. It became a requirement for all recruits to be able to read at least middle school level before graduating as a full-fledged rebel soldier. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but a good start in re-introducing reading as a necessary skill.

  Rebel recruits with expertise in electronics converted and updated communications equipment to useable radios. Unable to compete with Gen
eral Priest’s more modern equipment, but using shorter band widths, they still communicated effectively with each other.

  In the two years Max and Juan worked on building up the rebel army in Laredo, thousands of recruits, men and women, arrived from all over the empire. Unemployed hobos and former military personnel had nothing to lose by joining the rebels. Angry at how they were treated after the war, they had plenty of reasons to fight. Individuals of every rank from the war, volunteered to help organize and train green recruits.

  The biggest problem quickly became food. That’s when the hobo culture kicked in. Under Professor O’Malley’s direction, hundreds of boxes of produce and other food from Chicago Province was surreptitiously diverted via a rail spur to Laredo. The trickle of boxes soon became a steady stream as employees of the rail line who were Book Liberators became part of the scheme. They diverted no more than ten percent of every food shipment to Laredo, so producers shrugged their shoulders and wrote it off as simply “transient loss.” It wasn’t enough to warrant investigation, but it was adequate to feed a growing, hungry rebel army.

  Housing proved to not be a problem, since both the air force and army left large barracks units spread across the bases. Grunts who left energy farms after the Van Horn massacre, converted barracks to solar energy, making them more comfortable in desert heat and to supply energy for basic needs.

  Many hobos arrived on motorcycles, so a motorcycle brigade formed. Those with expertise in mechanics kept bikes in top shape and engineers designed mini-machine gun turrets, grenade and rocket launchers to mount on sidecars of motorcycles. The first time someone tried to shoot anything from a side car it caused the motorcycle to spin out of control, but once the engineers developed a retractable stabilizing unit, and figured out the exact weight and size gun to use, it made for a fast moving mini-tank, extremely maneuverable and useful in tight situations.

  As Juan thought about it as he approached the basilica in Mazatlán, it amazed him how much had been accomplished in two years. He rode a motorcycle and dressed like a hobo, one of the unnumbered thousands roaming the country after the war. Initially, he questioned whether the disguise Sandra sent him was the right one.

  After thinking about how many hobos populated the country, he realized the disguise was perfect. No one would look twice at him. He wore an old leather jacket and pants, along with a scratched but serviceable black helmet. His knee length black boots and leather gloves completed the twentieth-century outfit. He remembered seeing pictures of motorcycle gangs from the era. A faded emblem emblazoned the back of his jacket, “El Lobo Motorcycle Gang.”

  As he rode slowly through town, the day before the meeting, he noticed how quickly people moved out of his way when they saw him. Evidently, he projected a toughness he did not feel. His scruffy beard, long hair, artificial tattoos and piercings undoubtedly contributed to the look. He spent time strolling through the city around the church, looking for possible danger areas, locations of any imperial soldiers, and escape routes.

  The day of the meeting he stashed the motorcycle in an alleyway near the church. There was no sign of enemy troops. He walked into the church and found the hidden staircase to the meeting area, after making sure no one saw him investigating.

  He located a small café across the street from the church and sat outside eating a quesadilla and drinking a cold soda as it approached 1 pm. Periodic breezes from the ocean a few blocks away, meandered their way through the streets, making it very comfortable outside. He knew council members would arrive in various disguises. It would be fun to see if he recognized them as they entered the church. He grinned at the challenge as he finished his lunch and ordered a flan to top off his meal.

  Just as he finished the flan, he saw a short, stooped, elderly Asian woman carefully work her way up the stairs in front of the church. Juan knew a Chinese barrio existed somewhere in town but if he remembered correctly, they secretly practiced Buddhism. Why would a Buddhist be going into an old Christian church? The old woman’s hair was gray and tied back in a long, braid down her back. She wore a tunic of bright red embroidered silk. She shakily navigated the steps, her bowed legs appearing to make it difficult to walk even aided by an intricately carved wooden cane. She turned and surreptitiously looked around, suddenly catching Juan’s eyes. He knew those eyes. It was Janice.

  Trying not to laugh at the sight of beautiful Janice disguised as an old woman, he slowly strolled up the stairs and offered his help to her.

  “May I help you up the steps, Ma’am?” He asked with a grin.

  “Oh, shut up, Juan. And stop grinning. Guess I couldn’t fool you,” Janice said out of the corner of her mouth as she continued to slowly navigate the steps.

  Juan helped her to the top of the stairs and guided her inside. He whispered to her the directions to the meeting area and went back outside to continue his surveillance. As he walked out the door of the sanctuary, he met a rough-looking man with a heavily scarred face and long black, scruffy hair. His nose appeared to have been broken several times. His clothes looked like those worn by freight haulers on rail lines. Although not as tall as Juan, he walked with a swagger that said, “I’m tough. Don’t mess with me.”

  He started to walk right past the man. A familiar voice growled, “Hey, aren’t you going to say, ‘Hello’?”

  Juan turned with a start and looked at Marco’s smiling face. He grabbed him in a bear hug and hurried him into the church out of sight.

  “Good grief, man! I never would have recognized you. Are those scars the real thing? And what about your nose? Looks like it’s been broken a few times.”

  “Nah. Everything’s fake, thanks to Sandra. Looks very realistic, huh?”

  “Sure does. I certainly wasn’t going to tangle with you. You looked like you had one too many fights. How are you?”

  “I’m doing great. How’s the family? Any of them here with you?”

  “Nah, I didn’t think it was safe. But they are all doing great. Mateo is getting so big. I left him with Brogan and Bryan’s family. I’ll pick him up on the way home. Papa stayed in Laredo and Mama and Lolita went to Mexico City to visit family.

  “We’ll catch up more after the meeting. You go on in. The meeting is in an underground area behind the altar. I’ve already moved the altar enough to let you walk down the stairs. I’ll come down as soon as everyone gets here, and I make sure the coast is clear.”

  As two imperial soldiers marched up the steps, Juan and Marco stiffened and readied themselves to run, just in case. But as they got closer, they recognized Bryan. But where is Brogan?

  Neither soldier said a word but marched past them into the basilica. Juan and Marco followed. Once inside, they checked to make sure no one else was in the church. The soldiers turned. Bryan walked over to give the two men big hugs, slapping them on the back. It wasn’t until they looked closely at the second trooper’s green eyes they realized it was Brogan. Delighted at the excellent disguise, Marco and Juan swept her into their arms and gave her hugs.

  “I did not recognize you, Brogan!” Juan exclaimed. “You make a great looking marine.”

  “I echo the sentiment,” Marco added with a laugh. “I had no idea you could be both a beautiful woman and a handsome man. I am so totally confused.”

  Their laughter was silenced as they heard the sanctuary door start to open so the four moved behind a pillar and silently waited. Two very different people walked into the church. The first, a young boy dressed in rags, looked nervously around from a dirty face and ragged hair. He scooted into a pew, looking up at the high domed ceiling in awe. Behind him strolled a beautiful courtesan. Rather than wearing a tunic, she wore a dress of flimsy material leaving little to the imagination. She had an incredibly sumptuous body, immediately causing the three men’s mouths to go dry. Brogan broke into laughter and hollered, “Allison!”

  Marco almost passed out as he realized behind all the make-up and sexy clothes sauntered the woman of his dreams, Allison Simpson. He always
believed her to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but to see her dressed in such a way caused his heart to thump so hard he had no doubt his blood pressure must be off the charts. To get his mind on something other than his lustful thoughts, he looked again at the young boy and realized it had to be Sandra Bernhardt, the newest council member he recruited in Boston. He started laughing and called her over.

  “Hey, everybody, I want you to meet our newest council member, Sandra Bernhardt. She’s the one who designed all your disguises.”

  Sandra had done such a phenomenal job on her own disguise everyone had difficulty realizing instead of a young boy they were being introduced to the famous actor and newest member of their council. After introductions, Juan showed everyone the way into the meeting area and went outside to make one more perimeter check before joining them. After he came down the stairs, he laid a heavy steel bar across the door to prevent access.

  The BL member who arranged the meeting space conveniently hung solar-powered lamps around the room to make the underground room well lit. For a few minutes, they caught up on personal and family news and got acquainted with Sandra. They then turned to the serious business of BL. Marco told them about his last meeting with the prime minister and the general’s threat to assassinate the PM.

  “I really don’t know if it was a rumor or a real threat, but my concern is if the prime minister is assassinated and the general becomes prime minister, I fear he will unleash an even worse force on our citizens. I’ve seen him in action. He would not hesitate to establish a dictatorship the likes of which this country has never seen.”

  Allison said she heard some of the same rumors as she moved from province to province and agreed with Marco’s assessment. Although Brogan and Bryan had not heard the rumor, they had seen results of General Priest’s brutal tactics and knew it would not be good if he came into power.