Casualties of War

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Nick’s mind sheered away from thinking about ‘the others’. Calli was one of them.

  Calli.

  He swallowed. “We can have a team on the main island inside the hour.”

  “No, Nick,” Duardo said, as Flores stirred, his mouth opening to speak.

  “They’ll take her to the palace. To Serrano. We can get there before morning—”

  “No,” Duardo said. He and Flores exchanged glances.

  Nick pushed his hand through his hair, hissing his frustration. “We know where they will be!”

  It was a small tent. Duardo took a step forward and gripped Nick’s arm. “Come with me.”

  Nick looked down at his hand. “Take that off me.”

  Duardo hauled, instead. The man was strong. Nick staggered forward. The momentum was enough for Duardo to drag him out of the tent.

  Nick dug in his heels. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll force you to.”

  “You can try,” Duardo said. He heaved, almost lifting Nick off his feet, and pushed him up against the concrete side of the smelter shed. No one lingered nearby, for everyone not involved in the final plans for the push onto the mainland were at the sandbags, laying down suppressing fire to force the Insurrectos to keep down.

  Fury tore through Nick. “I am the President pro tem, General. How dare you—”

  “Not anymore,” Duardo interrupted, switching to English. English speakers were not common around here.

  Nick stared at him. “What is this? A coup?”

  Duardo’s gaze was steady. Unforgiving. “The supply boat with the last of the munitions just arrived at the dock. You will go back to Acapulco on that boat. It returns within the hour.”

  “Fuck that,” Nick ground out. “My wife is Serrano’s hostage!”

  “That’s why you’re getting on the boat,” Duardo said.

  Nick surged forward.

  Duardo rammed him back against the concrete, making Nick’s back creak and pushing out his breath. Duardo kept his arm up against Nick’s throat. He didn’t cut off the air although he could if he wanted to. It would take only a pound or two of pressure.

  Duardo’s gaze wouldn’t let Nick go. “Breathe, Nick.” His voice was gentle.

  Nick laughed. “What, you think I am hysterical?”

  “Breathe…or I will knock you out and calm you down that way.”

  Nick realized he was almost panting. Fear was gripping his throat and his chest and making his head pound. “Serrano shoots hostages on television!”

  Duardo nodded. “Which is why you must stand down. If you have no power, if you are contained, then Serrano has no leverage over anyone here, especially you.”

  “You would watch him put a gun to her head and not react?” Nick cried, horror spilling through him in a hot rush.

  “I will work to make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Duardo said. His voice was still quiet. “You can’t think, right now. You can’t make decisions. Anything you do will be the wrong thing to do. So take a deep breath. I mean it.”

  Nick choked.

  “In and out. You need oxygen. Go on.”

  The first breath was impossible to take in. It hurt. It felt as if he was giving up control, and control was all he had left to help her.

  His eyes burned as he drew the lungful of air in and held it, then let it out. Then they stung.

  Nick blinked hard. “Fuck…” he whispered, as the tears betrayed him. His mortification was complete.

  Duardo dropped his arm. His hand rested on Nick’s shoulder. “It’s only me,” he said kindly.

  Nick drew in another shuddering breath. “I want to kill him, Duardo. I want to put my hands around his neck and squeeze until his head pops off. I want to see the life go out of his eyes.”

  Duardo nodded. “You must get in line for that.”

  “I can’t just do nothing.”

  “You can go back to the house and help there.”

  Nick drew in another breath. It was helping. He could feel a measure—a tiny sliver—of calm ease his chest. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, grinding the pathetic tears away. “I can coordinate with you from the house.”

  “No,” Duardo said. “Minnie is running things there, now. You report to her and you do what she says.”

  “Minnie?” Nick repeated, his voice hoarse.

  Duardo held up his hand, to cut Nick off. “If you want to help, you can help. You don’t make any decisions, though. Do you understand?”

  Nick stared at him.

  “It will be hard for you. I know that,” Duardo said. “You’re used to doing things your way. If you give into your natural inclination, you will weaken us all. You must become a grunt, a good little soldier, who does what he’s told. It is the only shield we have against Serrano.” He paused. “You are el leopardo. You know how to operate on your own. You may even think that if you agree with me, now, you can set up for yourself later. A guerilla black ops team, perhaps. You have the skills and the resources to do it. Only, it would be playing into Serrano’s hands. By taking Calli, he has shown he understands us better than we gave him credit for. So you cannot act as you would. You can’t be predictable. You can’t be yourself. Do you understand?”

  Nick couldn’t bring himself to say a word. To agree would be to hand over Calli’s fate into the hands of others.

  Duardo nodded, as if he could read Nick’s thoughts. “I will get her back, Nick. You must trust me, now, and let go.”

  The helplessness raged in him. Nick’s eyes burned again. “Promise me,” he said. He couldn’t raise his voice above a murmur.

  “I promise, Nicolás Escobedo. I will get her back for you.”

  Nick hung his head, defeated.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Joaquim’s body crumpled to the sand, the other three shouted and cursed, reaching for their guns.

  They were all on the other side of the boat from Adán. They turned to face the north end of the bay where dark figures leaned out from among the palms and vines to fire at them.

  Adán leapt over Joaquim and ran. It was difficult to slog through the loose, fine sand and run with his hands tied for it ruined his balance. He powered along, pushing his toes in deep for maximum purchase. It felt good to move at last.

  The tree line was only twenty yards away. He reached it, hurdled a tangle of vines and pushed deeper into the trees. He did not try to be quiet. Speed was more important. He slammed against trees and snapped twigs and leaf litter. He lurched forward, keeping himself moving.

  It was even darker under the canopy. Everything was shadows and black shapes.

  When the human shape rose from behind the trunk of a fig tree, Adán changed directions sharply, moving away from them.

  They landed on his shoulders and sent him staggering through the growth, to sprawl in the soft green growing things and rotting vegetation. Musty aroma fanned his face. His breath blew out. He pushed up on his hands and flipped over to tackle whoever was on his back.

  The long, sharp edge of a knife rested against his neck.

  Adán grew still.

  The slender, dark shape over him lifted a hand to its face. “Shh….”

  Someone else crashed through the undergrowth. From the direction of the noise, Adán could tell they were following the path he had taken.

  Chasing him?

  He held his breath, his heart thudding, and listened.

  No more gun fire sounded from the beach, just the one heavy-breather pushing through the trees.

  Then, the soft whistling sound came again.

  A muffled cry, cut off.

  Silence.

  The shape sitting on Adán lifted. They got to their feet. “You can get up now.” Their voice was high and light, making it impossible to judge gender.

  Adán stared at the child-sized silhouette. “What are you? Five years old?”

  “I’m twelve,” they said, sounding indignant. Adán decided it was a boy.

  “Over here!” the boy
shouted, startling Adán again. He lifted Adán’s hands and used the big knife to slice away the zip tie.

  “Who are you people?” Adán demanded.

  “We’re nobody,” said an adult voice behind him. Adán turned to face the larger man shape. He could see details now his night vision was adjusting.

  “We’re the missing,” the boy added.

  “Some of the missing,” the man finished. Behind him, more people collected.

  “I heard about you,” Adán said, rubbing his wrists. “People have been disappearing from the north. A whole village just gone and dozens of other people, all in the last couple of weeks.”

  “That’s us,” the man said. “Only, we didn’t wait around to become Insurrecto playthings, like some of them did.”

  “We’re fighting back,” the boy said proudly.

  Adán glanced at the silvery knife he waved.

  “We have a camp, a half-mile in from here,” the man said. “We can give you some food, while you decide.”

  “Decide what?” Adán asked.

  “What side you’re on,” the boy said.

  Adán waved toward the boat. “You didn’t see them haul me out of the boat? They’re Insurrectos. What side do you think I’m on?” He patted his pockets. They were empty. His phone, his wallet and the other items were all gone. Losing the phone was a blow.

  “We saw pictures of you with Serrano’s wife,” the man said.

  Adán sighed. “The goddamn Internet,” he swore.

  “You gonna tell us that was Photoshopped?” someone asked, over their leaders’ shoulder.

  “It didn’t have to be,” Adán ground out. “They conned me into it.”

  “They fooled Smokey Silva?” the boy breathed, sounding disappointed.

  “I was at a hospital foundation fund-raiser,” Adán told them. He lifted his voice so they could all hear him without straining. “In L.A., in a tuxedo, sipping champagne with the Vice President of the United States. You think I was looking at every woman in sequins and wondering if she was an Insurrecto agent?”

  The silence was pensive.

  The leader stirred. “Welcome back to Vistaria, Caballero. The land of suspicion, paranoia and black deeds.”

  Adán let out a heavy breath. “Home isn’t the way I left it,” he admitted.

  Soft chuckles was their response.

  * * * * *

  Téra watched Minnie put the phone back on the cradle. Minnie’s hand shook.

  “That was Aguirre again?” Téra asked.

  Minnie wiped her hand on her jeans and nodded. “He’s acknowledged I’m Chief of Staff for now and will work with me. That’s one hurdle cleared. What’s next?”

  Téra looked down at the scribble pad on her knee. “Duardo phoned while you were talking to Aguirre. General Flores is now President pro tem, although Duardo said don’t expect to get any directions from him. It’s purely a title for now.” She looked up at Minnie. “I guess that means you’re the boss-boss.”

  Minnie swallowed, looking around the big desk and the littered piles of paper. “Calli made it look easy. I feel like I will throw up.”

  “Step at a time,” Téra reminded her. “It’s all just a system, right? Make sure the system works and everything else takes care of itself.”

  “This isn’t coupon cutting,” Minnie replied, grimacing. “For now, we focus on survival stuff. Food, water, power. Basic medicines. And security. No one in or out of the house unless they’re cleared.”

  “You sent Ames to shut the gates and post guards,” Téra reminded her. “He said we should be particular about beach security, too. I told him to do what he thought best.”

  “We need a head count,” Minnie said. “How many are on the grounds, who are they, their medical status and their skills. Everyone must help. The bed-ridden wounded can help with communications—I can’t sit with the phone to my ear all day.”

  Téra scribbled, nodding.

  The door to the little office opened and Chloe stepped in and shut it. Her eyes were big and her face was stiff.

  “What is it?” Minnie said sharply.

  Chloe stood with her hands working by her sides. “Cristián isn’t responding.” Her voice was wooden.

  Téra’s heart leapt. “Did you try Trini’s phone? Momma’s?” Everyone in the house had phones and could use them now, thanks to Chloe’s magic cloak software.

  Chloe nodded, her chin moving up and down in a mechanical movement. “It’s been five hours. Even if everyone’s phone died at the same moment, they should have been able to recover and make contact in five hours. I didn’t want to worry you, but Cristián has now missed two scheduled calls.”

  “How many has he missed in the past?” Minnie asked.

  “None.”

  Téra sucked in a deep breath. “They said whole villages were going missing…”

  Minnie shook her head. “Pascuallita is a big town, almost a city. Besides, it has been under Insurrecto control since day one. Why would they strip a town of its people? Pascuallita was supplying the rebels with food and more.”

  “What if something happened like here?” Chloe asked. “What if they tried to snatch Cristián?”

  Téra gazed at Minnie, hoping she would deny that, too.

  Minnie frowned. “We can’t afford to speculate.”

  “It fits the pattern,” Téra said, her heart sinking. “Duardo said it looked as though they were taking key people. Cristián is a key.”

  “They don’t know who Cristián is,” Minnie said, her tone sharp once more. “They’ve never known. Starve your imagination, Téra, or you will be of no help to anyone.”

  Téra sat up straighter. “Right. Sorry.”

  Chloe’s jaw worked. “Is there anyone in the area who can check?” she asked, hope in her voice.

  “No,” Minnie said. “It’s deep inside the Insurrecto controlled areas, Chloe. Your satellite photos are the closest we can get. The next time one passes over, see if there is anything to see.”

  “If there’s no one in the house, we won’t see anything,” Chloe pointed out.

  Minnie met her gaze. “If the house is still standing, if there are no bodies lying near it, if there are no Insurrectos surrounding it with guns, then we’ll know they still don’t know about Cristián and the girls. It means they went dark for other reasons. Rushing in to find them might make things worse.”

  Chloe’s eyes got even bigger. “I…hadn’t thought of it that way. I’ll check the feeds.”

  “And find me more cellphones, please!” Minnie called after her as Chloe left.

  Téra smiled.

  “What?” Minnie demanded.

  “You sound very boss-boss, ma’am.”

  Minnie rolled her eyes. “Next?”

  * * * * *

  The little old house in the poor, inner suburb of la Colina had black mud rendering on the walls, no paint and few windows. In the heat of the afternoon, it was an oven. Even up on the roof, the air was too still and muggy. Garrett’s body against hers was slick and hot, which was the way Carmen normally liked it. She sighed.

  Garrett lifted his mouth from her throat. “Am I boring you?” He sounded amused although there was a wary glint in his eyes.

  Carmen cupped his face. “God, no! It’s just…I can’t breathe here! My skin crawls. The walls are too close, I can’t see beyond the next corner and it’s driving me crazy.”

  Garrett sat up, tangling up the blanket they had been lying on. He wore jeans and a singlet, for it was too warm for anything else. Up here, no one could see his scars.

  He glanced over the low parapet at the hundreds of narrow, tall houses they could see from the roof of the squat house they had “borrowed” for the current assignment. More houses stepped down the steep side of the hill, one after another, their concrete rendering painted in gay colors that didn’t hide the squalid conditions. The late afternoon sun blazed between them, casting long shadows.

  “It’s not the forest, is it?” Garr
ett said. He helped her sit up. She winced and tucked her arm back into the sling. Her shoulder would throb if she didn’t use the sling. She plucked her sleeveless tee shirt away from her chest, trying to stir the air beneath and cool off.

  The door to the roof pushed open with a creak of rusty hinges.

  Garrett’s gun appeared in his hand. As Daniel pushed through the door, a cellphone in his hand, Garrett relaxed.

  Daniel pulled over an old beer crate and upended it. He sat on it, his elbows on his knees, the cellphone held loosely between his fingers.

  “Uh-oh,” Garrett murmured.

  “Yeah.” Daniel grimaced. “I could soft-shoe this if you want.” His gaze flickered toward Carmen.

  Her heart shifted. “No. Cut to the chase.”

  Daniel nodded. “The Insurrectos snatched Nick Escobedo’s wife and the Mexican ambassador from Acapulco airport. They grabbed Adán Caballero, too. There’s an outside chance they may have also grabbed Cristián and his family in Pascuallita, only that one doesn’t fit the pattern.”

  “What pattern?” Carmen asked.

  “High profile decision makers and influencers,” Garrett said.

  Daniel pointed at him.

  Carmen swallowed. “There’s more?”

  “Nick has stepped down as President. Flores is pro tem for now.”

  Garrett nodded. “Smart,” he said.

  Carmen shook her head. “I can’t imagine Nick sitting back and letting anyone fight his war for him.”

  “It’s the only counter he can make, now Serrano has Calli,” Daniel said. “It neutralizes the leverage she gives Serrano.”

  “Daniel, they took the Mexican ambassador,” Carmen said. “Wouldn’t Olivia be the same type of target?”

  “That was the first call I made,” Daniel said. “She’s still at the hospital with her father, surrounded by FBI, Secret Service and cops. She promised she wouldn’t move from there for now.” He grinned. “Minnie is Chief of Staff and is running the house in Acapulco.”

  “That’s funny?” Carmen asked. “Just because she’s a woman—”