Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill)

by Wellhauser, David S.

  Eventually, they made it back to the safe house. Chrislann’s car was still there, for the moment, though he’d not be driving it.

  “Can you take him back to Makati?”

  “Like this? If the guards see him, they’ll contact the commander and that will get back to the Governor. If that happens, I’m not sure he will remain silent.”

  “You believe the Captain was correct about Chrislann?”

  The woman’s silence was the only answer he needed, which raised concerns about how safe any of them were with Chrislann in their midst. Without asking more, or worrying the woman with the character of her brother, he got out and stepped around the car to the curbside and the passenger’s door.

  There was a rustle in the bushes down the street, but Pym ignored this and leaned in to hoist the elder Budiman out.

  “Be gentle, I’m not sure how damaged he is inside.”

  Taking Chrislann beneath the shoulders, Pym pulled him out and up. The ululation that escaped the injured man sent a flock of birds up from the power lines.

  “Gently.” The woman pulled herself from the car and took the other side of her brother. As they held him and Pym pushed the car door to with a hip, there came a rustle in the bushes down the street.

  “Something’s up.” Pym craned his neck toward the house with the large thicket.

  “Just a dog...” Before she could finish, two figures broke from cover and ran across the street.

  “What the fuck are they?” Glenna looked up and dropped her brother’s arm. The full weight of the man fell to Pym, and he almost dropped Chrislann. Backing away, the woman’s hands went to her mouth and the small eyes became very large and white. Even amid her brother’s shrieks, the younger sibling continued to back away. “Take your brother’s arm—it’s okay; you’re safe.” She continued to back away. “Glenna—help your brother!” The raised voice broke through whatever panic was building at the sight of the two figures. Taking his arm, she looked over her shoulder as they dragged Chrislann into the house. Even as she did so, they disappeared in between the houses across the street and appeared to be making for Makati at full speed.

  Inside, Pym laid Budiman on the living room sofa then drew water and got bandages and disinfectant from the bathroom. Back in the living room, Glenna was at the front window peering out the heavy, pulled drapes.

  “Anything?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Glenna, do you see anything?”

  “No.” A stuttering, fearful reply.

  “What were those two—and those peaked hoods?”

  “White Penitents—they have to be.” Turning, she was hugging herself.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve only ever seen them from a distance; then with a platoon between us and them.”

  “They’re ridiculous, but didn’t seem very dangerous.”

  “Alone they may not be dangerous, but Penitents are rarely alone. Where you find one there is usually a procession not far away.”

  “Procession? What are these Penitents?”

  “White Penitents. They appeared in the city not long after the serums proved ineffective.” Coming over to the sofa, Glenna took the moist cloth from Titus and continued. “The Penitents believe the Sweats, they call it The Scourge, was sent by God to punish the city and the country.”

  “Religious hysterics—if things weren’t bad enough.”

  “They’re a lot more,” placing a hand on Titus’s wrist, “than simple hysterics. They preach an apocalyptic gospel and have been purged twice by the Governor. But each time they have come back stronger than before.”

  “How are they being organized?”

  “No one is certain. There have been rumors about a leadership, but no one has any solid evidence, that I have heard of.”

  “Lack of evidence isn’t always proof of nonexistence.”

  The woman nodded as she cleaned Chrislann’s abraded wounds. “But they are dangerous—they want to replace the government, especially the Governor, with an anarchic theocracy. Order is to be replaced with prayers, flagellation, self-crucifixion, processions, and immolations.”

  “They’re burning themselves alive?”

  “That and others they consider sinful. The goal is to purge the sin from the city and then the country through the mortification of the flesh.”

  “You recognize how mad that sounds?”

  “I do—it’s but another reason we want out of the city. The Sweats were enough, but this has taken the city into crazy.”

  “Tomás didn’t mention anything about this—does he know?”

  “They are said not to be just in the city—though that is a wild rumor because we can’t get out, and no one seems to want in. Maybe in the future, if Tomás is to be believed, but I’m not sure about that. It is possible the Wall doesn’t know about them—but the Governor must have alerted the Federals about the threat. It is the sort of thing they and the blockade would want to know about. Still, I’ve not been made aware of much. Maybe Chrislann knows,” pointing down to her brother who was slowly coming to his senses. “He’s made it his mission to know as much as possible.”

  “He has that kind of clout?” It was hard to believe looking at him and then considering how badly he’d misjudged Tomás and his men.

  “Chrislann is involved with powerful lobbies. Alone he is not good for much, politically at least, but as a representative, he has quite a bit of power. If he considers the Whites, what people are calling the White Penitents, a threat, he would want the Governor and Federals to know. Truth be told, I do not believe the Federals know about the Whites; otherwise, there would have been some kind of reaction by now—they’re too dangerous not to warrant this.”

  “I suspect the blockade does not know either—they’d have to react to a threat like that.”

  “Could be, but it’s more than I know.”

  Sitting down opposite the woman, there was a sound up the street. “Another car.” Pym bounced out of the armchair and back to the window. The Whites had unnerved him much more than the Cartel—these he understood and could deal with, but religious fanatics were impossible to understand, and there was no appealing to reason. You either accept the belief system and behave appropriately or you get out of the way. “It’s some of your friends.”

  “Not all?”

  “No, there are only three people in the car.”

  At this Chrislann mumbled something and tried to sit up; failing, he flopped back down. “I’m worried they might have really hurt him.”

  “Possible, I noticed the guards had kicked him in the head a couple of times. You really need to get him to a doctor.” Car doors slammed outside, and voices drifted across the yard. “Not the silent sort, are they?” The woman smiled.

  “Once we get Chrislann inside, we can get him to a doctor. However, I need him to be able to sit up in the car and maybe answer a question or two so the Governor or their office is not informed. Too many questions would come from that, ones we could not answer.” Titus nodded back over his shoulder and opened the door.

  “Bit of a surprise.” The woman rocked back on her heels, eyes wide.

  “Is Glenna here?” Titus pointed over his shoulder. She was followed by a man and another in their late teens.

  “Glenna, is Chrislann okay?”

  “He is getting better Joramae—what can I do for you?”

  “What are the guards doing?” A young man, maybe not quite twenty, asked. He was of middling height, whereas Joramae was a little shorter than Glenna. The other was a man in his mid to late twenties—tall with an athletic build, not so much bulky as solid.

  “Don’t panic, Dante,” speaking to the young man, “Chrislann was rude. We’re still on schedule, aren’t we Titus?”

  Seeing what was being asked, he nodded. “But Titus will be handling the negotiations from now on.”

  “How are you going to deal with them?”

  “His name’s Rey.” Glenna answered over a shoulder, ste
adying her brother—who was again attempting to sit up, this time with more success.

  “They’re running a con on you. The Wall will continue to milk you for diamonds and whatever else they can get before you finallyrealize they aren’t going to let you out.” The faces of the three fell, and Glenna looked at him sharply.

  “How,” Glenna asked abruptly, “do we deal with that?”

  “Cut off their supply. Whatever it is they want, do not furnish it.”

  “But,” Dante worried, “won’t they get this from someone else—others like us, or the Cartel?”

  “Choke off the supply.”

  “From the Cartel?” Chrislann, still sitting, moaned.

  “The Beluga is getting stronger and larger every day—we can do that. More importantly, they have to need the diamonds for something. Given the situation beyond the Wall, they may be having trouble getting supplied. We can use this to move them into a more pliant position.”

  “What will choking the supply do?” Joramae asked, as she twisted her fingers together.

  “It will force the Wall’s commander to enter into the negotiations—as long as we remain with Tomás, there will be no chance of getting out of the city. But,” he paused to listen for any noise outside, “if we can drive the point home that we have power, they will think twice about pulling what they just did with Chrislann. Please understand, if we do not get them under control, the violence will only increase.”

  “But if we push too hard...” In the middle of the thought, Joramae was interrupted by a loud noise from outside. It wasn’t a sharp bang but a rhythmic basso. Pulling the automatic, Pym ran for the main door. Outside he was halfway across the front yard stone garden before he was staggered to a halt. There was a procession of White Penitents coming down the street in the direction in which the other two with the pointed hoods had run. Behind him, Joramae shrieked and ran for their car—Pym stuck out an arm and the woman staggered back.

  “We have to get out of here—those people will kill us if they find out we’re from Makati,” Cried Joramae.

  Seemed everyone in town knew more about these Whites than Titus did and he’d been trading in information long enough he should have heard a rumor of them. It was Lumang Mapoot all over again. “No, running from this sort is only going to increase your troubles.”

  “Then what...” Dante started from behind as there was a loud report and the lead White fell backwards into the procession. For a moment, others did not understand what was happening. While one of their brothers or sisters stopped to help them up, there was another report and the next lead crumpled to the ground in a mock genuflection then toppling over as their gravity shifted.

  “No!” Glenna shouted from behind. Even as she shouted, the others were scattering. Another of the Whites attempted to help one of their fallen brethren, but Pym stepped forward and let a round off above their hood, just nicking the tip of it. Losing their balance, the White fell to their left and lay on the ground staring at Pym.

  “Leave them!” As the Whites turned and fled, Titus walked over and ripped the hood off. The man, maybe in his early twenties, looked up with unfocused eyes. Pym finished him. Joramae screamed, again.

  “You can’t—they’re holy!” Titus turned back to her, not understanding.

  “It’s true,” Glenna answered the look, “they are considered by many” giving a sick look to Joramae, “to be holy.”

  “But they’ll destroy the city.”

  “Still...” Joramae, however, did not finish.

  “Let us be clear about this—our only chance of getting out is getting bloody.”

  “But...” Dante spoke up from behind Joramae.

  “If you want me to get us out, we do it my way, and this will mean maintaining as much order as possible. These people would undermine that.” Joramae, Rey, and Dante all nodded, but it was only Rey that seemed to agree with him. “Okay, we better get out of here. If the gunfire doesn’t bring the patrols, that chanting will.”

  “But what of the Penitents?” Joramae was almost pleading.

  “Leave them. The patrols or their brothers and sisters will take care of them.”

  The three new arrivals took off in their car immediately.

  “Good friends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t wait about to see if you needed any help with Chrislann.”

  “They’re afraid.”

  “We’re all afraid. I mention it only because when this gets ugly, they won’t be people you can count on.”

  “This isn’t ugly?” There was genuine fear in the woman’s voice.

  “Early days this is. You get in a few months, maybe weeks, and you will see ugly—after I’ve put the screws to the Wall.” Not answering, she turned and ran back to the house. Titus shook his head, not realizing how green, until that moment, they all were.

  In the house, Glenna was struggling to get her brother on his feet. Though aware of his surroundings, the man didn’t seem capable of standing. “Relax.” Glenna was nearing hysteria as she moaned for her brother to get up.

  “But...” Stopping, realization opened the woman’s face. “There will be no patrol?”

  “Doubtful. This time of day they should be up north of the district. I suspect that is why the Whites were down here.”

  “You knew!” The voice was not loud, but moving up the register.

  “I needed to see how they would react—didn’t disappoint.”

  “They were afraid.”

  “Yes, reasonable response, but these are not reasonable times. There’ll be a lot to be afraid of—a lot more than a patrol.”

  “What did this prove except you know which buttons to push?”

  “Proves they will leave you if things get tough, or look to be getting tough. If you are smart, you will dump them.”

  “We can’t. Each of those people represent others and a great deal of wealth, not to mention power.”

  “How many are you hoping to get out?”

  “As many as we may.”

  “How many?”

  “Changes from day to day—some lose heart; some commit suicide; some hope to ride out the storm.”

  “Okay, who are these people—generally?”

  “Families of City, Provincial, and Federal governments—some children of industrialists as well.”

  “That sounds like a lot of people.”

  “Between one and two hundred.”

  “You will never be able to dig enough diamonds to bribe government officials for that number.”

  “I doubt many will show up. It is more likely it will be something like fifty—at most.”

  “Even so, that is too many. You made it sound like a tight group—that’s what Tomás thinks too, right?”

  She nodded, sitting beside her brother.

  “I’ll help you get twenty-five out, maximum. Understand?”

  “But...”

  “I don’t care what you tell the others, but twenty-five is the largest number I will take, and that’s what I’m going to tell the Commander when we meet—got it?”

  The woman, defeated, nodded and sat beside her brother.

  “Let’s get Chrislann in the car. Take him back, then I want you to sneak out through your bolt and join me back here—we need to talk.”

  The pair wrestled the man into the car and Titus went back inside.

  It had taken Glenna more than an hour to get back, so long that Titus had about given up on her. As it turned out, she had to take her brother to the medical center and they were worried he may have a concussion. There’d been several dangerous questions, but she knew the doctor and nurses, so they weren’t going to report the incident.

  “What did you tell them it was?”

  “Said he got into a bar fight. It wouldn’t be the first time. With Chrislann, emotional outbursts are the norm rather than the exception.”

  Smiling, Titus offered Glenna a cup of tea, and they when into the living room to talk.


  “What do you need to know?” Sipping her green tea.

  “I need to know a little more about the Governor first.”

  “Henry Salazar rose through the bureaucracy of the provinces then the federal governments. He has survived reactionaries and reformists alike. They’ve never been linked to any political scandals or any criminal behavior, but Salazar has always had dirt and questionable behavior associated with whatever office he’s worked for.”

  “A survivor?”

  “Yes—and dangerous.”

  “When cornered?”

  “No, if he feels you are less than committed, he’s been known to destroy whole careers, and there have been rumors of assassinations and blackmail as well.”

  “You are willing to cross such a man?”

  “We’re desperate—this city doesn’t have another year like this in it. We’ve lost a good third of the city already to the Sweating Sickness, and those that are left are beginning to crack. The Whites are only the most notable example of this.”

  “Does the Governor have any weaknesses—women, family, drugs, whores, or political frailties?”

  “They have a family, of course, but they have no real love for them.”

  “Are any of their family members part of your group?”

  “That want out?”

  He nodded.

  “No. There has been some interest, but having them in would be too dangerous.”

  “Do any of them know, or suspect, what you are up to?”

  “I do not believe so.”