Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill)

by Wellhauser, David S.

  As the guard was considering his own empty belly, there was the rattle of a can up the street, or around the corner. The echo, though subtle, was everywhere. Stopping, Sapet pulled against the wall and went down on a knee. “Identify yourself.” There was a brief pause.

  “Ishander, coming around.”

  With that Sapet relaxed a little but kept the weapon trained on the corner. Whoever might be out there could have taken Ishander, and he’d never been a brave soul. None of them were any longer. There’d been a time, after Pym had arrived, when the Fay had been in the ascendency, that this was true. Now, however, the Beluga Fay was more interested in hanging on to what they had than expanding into new territories. One more reason the choice between Lander and Pym was difficult—neither had a plan to fix the problem.

  “Come out slowly, and do not make any sudden movements.” Sapet was not taking any chances. None of them were brave, and all of them were becoming improbably cautious.

  Ishander turned the corner. In silhouette Sapet could see the man and the weapon that hung from his vest. Beneath that he wasn’t wearing any shirt. It was too hot and humid for that. The heat was such that neither of them was wearing pants either—both had chosen shorts, as just about everyone else had. Sandals were the preferred footwear. Most of the guards were from the smaller islands, and this was the traditional dress there. Though the Beluga had attempted to change Sapet and Ishander, as well as the rest, they never could manage it.

  “What’s with the noise?” Sapet asked.

  “Didn’t see the can—can’t see much of anything in this.”

  “At least no one else can either.”

  “Hope they can’t.”

  “Still, this would be a good night to hit us.”

  “Was thinking much the same.”

  “They’ve got to do something about this power.”

  “Who?”

  “The bosses.”

  “Who’s the boss now?”

  “What’s it matter? But whoever is in charge has to do something—sooner or later this is going to get us killed.”

  “Suppose that’s why we are still getting food.”

  “I’m on half rations.”

  “We all are, but that’s better than others. Heard some of them are only getting one meal a day, and that is half of what they were getting a month ago.”

  “If Pym would get his ass back where it belongs...”

  “Wouldn’t matter. He can’t invent food.”

  “We could push south and back into the markets.”

  “That’s Cartel and government territory again—and they’ll fight hard to protect it.”

  “Don’t see we have any choice if we do not want to starve—we already are starving.” Sapet heaved his weapon onto his shoulder and a hand went reflexively to his stomach.

  “Where is Pym anyway?” Ishander asked as the moon came out. The broad flat features of his face were revealed as sweat ran down his cheeks.

  “Haven’t heard anything of him for almost a week—maybe he’s planning something?”

  “He’s always planning something, but I don’t see much of those plans coming our way—and still they’ve got us patrolling.”

  “What do you mean?” Sapet asked.

  “We’re out here getting shot at, and he’s I don’t know where.”

  Sapet shrugged. It was true, but he didn’t see that either of them, or anyone else—even Lander—could do anything about that.

  “He didn’t?” Pym was having a hard time with the idea.

  “For now. I’m sure father will relent.”

  “Out of the house?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you staying in Makati?”

  She nodded again.

  “But only when I have to.”

  “Where?”

  “With Chrislann, but he’s not happy either.”

  “That I don’t get—he still wants out, right?”

  “Of course, but we’re not out yet, and there is a growing concern we never will be.”

  “This is because of the rumor you are sleeping with me?”

  “It’s different here. Sleeping with a foreigner and, even worse, getting serious with a foreigner is not acceptable.”

  “But I’ve seen foreigners with your women in photos a lot.”

  “They’re poor, and they need to help their families—but it is a shameful thing.”

  “The Sweats hasn’t changed any of that?”

  “Made it worse. Most believe this was brought here by foreigners because they are...”

  “Dirty?”

  Glenna nodded, sinking back in to the cushioned seat. They were meeting at a coffee shop not far from the North gate and close on to the eastern frontier of the northern industrial zone. It was the only place, any longer, to get real coffee, and that was growing dear. Luckily, one of the things that Pym had gotten by way of concession from the guards was free access to any of the goods and services offered by the shops, the Wall, and the dwindling elites.

  Dwindling because what they had to offer as trade was becoming increasingly spare, beyond the reach of any but Salazar’s closest allies. These as well were contracting as the governor’s paranoia increased as food and energy became an issue. Glenna, via Chrislann, had made it clear the governor’s grasp on power weakened in almost direct relationship to their inability to feed the people and power the grid. The only thing that made it possible for Salazar to maintain his grasp on the governorship was the military, police, and militia—with some help from the Cartel. Even inside of Makati, the streets were being patrolled by both police and military. No one had noticed the militia but that, Glenna was certain, was only a shortish matter of time. There were even rumors that some members of the Cartel may be accepted into Makati in order to acquire access to more market resources and security.

  Glenna maintained this was unlikely because of popular resentment toward the Cartel which had been responsible for more than a little violence directed toward the Makatians over the years—going back long before the Sweats. Pym was not so sure, given how desperate Salazar had become of late, but he let the observation pass in silence—it was obvious the possibility was unnerving the woman. That Glenna was wavering as to whether or not to give him up, because of her father’s order, was enough of a demonstration. For all of the woman’s posturing, she was, in the end, deeply traditional.

  “So, what now?” Titus asked.

  “I show my face as little as possible in Makati—until the rumors die down or we get out.”

  “I see.”

  “So?”

  “What?”

  “How much longer?”

  “You ask me as though it is something I have control of.”

  “You can push Tomás.”

  “If I push harder, they could break off negotiations.”

  “But we’re giving them a lot of diamonds and resources.”

  “They’ll keep that up as long as they may. We need to wait until they’re hurting more than they already are.”

  “When will that be?”

  “When the National Government no longer gives them what they need.”

  “Why don’t we stop feeding them the stones?”

  “They’ll shift to someone else.”

  “But Salazar has strangled off access to these. Only those closest to him are able to acquire the stones in any significant amount—not even father, because of me, can get these in large quantities.”

  “Then where are you getting yours?”

  “I have been hoarding, but the other members of the group have fathers which remain in favor—how much longer this will be the case I cannot say.”

  “Okay, so we strangle off your friends’ resources, and there won’t be any access.”

  “Even if we could do that, there is still the Cartel. The Wall would rather not deal with them, but if there are no other choices, they will.”

  “But you just said the government has a stranglehold on the stones?”
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br />   “They do, but they need to pay the Cartel for security, and they need access, with as little trouble as possible, to the markets and agricultural centers in the South. The Cartel controls large swathes of territory in this area. You may own the West, central districts, and maintain influence in the South, but the South, for the most part, and the shores, belong to the Cartel.”

  “And the national government has no control?”

  “They have had to come to an arrangement in order to keep what food there is coming.”

  “This would explain our shortfall.”

  An eyebrow raised in question.

  “The Fay is having trouble getting enough food for our membership—we’ve had to resort to rationing, and this has made the rank and file rebellious.”

  “But you are safe?”

  “From the Fay?”

  She nodded.

  “For the moment, but I am more concerned about Lander—he’s been using this as an opportunity to raise his profile and increase his power base.”

  “He may challenge you?”

  “If I cannot change things soon, he may take the Fay. Doubt he’d know what to do with them, but that is another problem.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Titus could see the cold calculus occurring behind the black eyes. “I may have to kill Lander—but that would only weaken my position and leave an opening for someone else to step into opposition.”

  “What do you need to do in order to win back the Fay?”

  “Firstly, I have to feed them and get a steady supply of food. Afterwards, I have to find some way to protect them from incursions—both government and Cartel.”

  “I can’t help with the Cartel, but I do have access to what the government is planning.”

  “But your father...”

  “He mayn’t be speaking to me, but everyone else is, and the other members of my group have fathers that are still trusted. From them I will be able to get whatever information you may need about raids.”

  “If you could do that, I’d be able to set up ambushes.” He was almost willing to trust the woman, but he’d seen too many faces to do that—completely anyway. Pym kept reminding himself that as long as their goals were in sync, he could almost do this, but keeping them in sync was going to be a problem.

  “I cannot help you with the food.” Glenna almost appeared sorry.

  “We’re going to have to push back into the South and the fish markets.”

  “That would cause a lot of trouble, both the Cartel and the government would have to respond.”

  “There is no choice—we need the food, and they won’t share it.”

  “But could you withstand their combined strength?”

  “That all depends on how many casualties both can absorb. We have no choice, and the chance of gaining access to a steady and comprehensive food supply would make the Fay crazy brave.”

  “It will make Salazar equally desperate—leaving him only with the agricultural south and the marina markets as a source of seafood.”

  “Our choices are dwindling.”

  “All the more reason to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

  He knew she was right, knew he’d have to light a match under the Wall—but didn’t see how this would do much more than cause new problems.

  “You certain about this?” The meeting was larger than Titus would have liked, especially this close to the wall. But with Glenna spending so much time with him, she needed to be able to reassure her cabal. Still, she preferred to call them friends, but many of these he’d not seen before.

  “We all need to be clear about what is happening going forward.”

  “This is not meant to sound ungrateful or hostile, but I don’t know any of you.”

  “I do.” Glenna appeared as though this was enough to sort out the entire problem Titus might be facing.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but other Makatians have tried to have me killed.”

  “That was my father, and you realize it has nothing to do with this.”

  “The argument doesn’t work for me, but I am not interested in debating the point. If there is a salient feature you are missing, it is that these people have not been directly involved in this before.” The group, now only ten people, was becoming uncomfortable with their objectification. In seeing this, Pym turned from Glenna to the group. “Let’s start by introducing ourselves.” As they did so, there were the usual names. But what struck him as he took in the cabal, there were more women than men. That made sense, but there were more men than had been suspected. The men would, if they survived the Sweats, have a future in the country’s government or industry—each and every one seemed to have had a university education, or part of a one, which they might pick up on.

  Not being shy about his thoughts, he shared these with the group.

  “They...” Glenna began, but Titus interrupted her.

  “Let them speak for themselves. If I am to put my life in jeopardy for these people, I need to know what they are about.”

  Yuri Torres, this was how Titus remembered the young man from the introductions, answered for the men. Torres was of middling height for a main islander, but his skin was almost white.

  Though slight in size, he had a voice that was deep and articulate.

  “There is,” he began, “no future in the city. We have all seen Salazar’s grasp on power falter and what he is willing to do to our own people in order to hold onto what remains of this.”

  “You all feel this way?” There wasn’t incredulity in Pym’s voice, but it was difficult to keep the ambivalence from it.

  “Is it so hard to believe?” SaRah Castillo answered. She was from southern island tribal stock, but her people had been on the main island long enough to have lost most of the obvious defining characteristics in their dialect and, in the case of SaRah, some of the darkness of skin typical of the region. However, the spelling of her name and its pronunciation—Sah-Rah—suggested a strong affiliation with the South. This probably coming from her father, since the naming of children was traditionally the province of the father. Castillo isn’t what Titus would have called beautiful, but there was a symmetry to her face and body that made up for their otherwise plain features.

  “Yes, you are all the children of government officials and the major national and multinational industrialists. Each of you will have a bright future if you stay and survive. If you leave, you will not only lose this but you also will certainly become fugitives from your own government and those of the world.”

  “We,” Castillo again, “realize what it means to leave the city while the quarantine is in effect. There is no choice. Between Salazar and the Sweating Sickness, we will die anyway.”

  “It’s been over a year now, and they are no closer to curing the plague,” Yuri rejoined. “Even the international efforts to find a cure have been useless.”

  Titus leaned back in the chair. Reasoning with them was useless—they were all, as the rest of the city, operating on fear. But not simply fear—this fear was of the mind-numbing variety that had taken the remainder of the city and had probably taken the country beyond the Wall. This fear was well entrenched with the member states of the blockade, but their distance from the archipelago’s death spiral had allowed them to maintain a veneer of objectivity and rationalized distance. “You’re right,” Pym answered, “but what you are contemplating with this escape is extremely dangerous. The lot of you will be hunted down.”

  “We,” Joan de Guzmán answered, “have family beyond the Wall. They will hide us until this is over.”

  “If the Sweats jumps the Wall, and it almost certainly will, then you people will be blamed—the lot of you will make convenient scapegoats for the other side of this plague.”

  “Are you going to help us or not?” Rodrigo del Rasario, a squat and doughy young man with a lot of fear and anger in his voice. “Will you take me with you, just to the other side of the Wall?”

  �
�Of course...” Glenna was interrupted by Pym’s raised hand. Rodrigo, SaRah, Yuri, and the others nodded in unison. There was something mechanical in the action, but there did not appear to be any purpose behind this that was other than what it appeared to be—xenophobic reluctance. They’d keep their word, not because they believed in keeping it but because they were consumed with a purpose they all suspected would fail, on one level or another, unless they focused their dwindling attention.

  “Though I’m not impressed with your enthusiasm, I believe you.” Pym wasn’t certain sharing the sentiment a good idea, but the words were already out before caution reasserted itself.

  Titus, as the others went silent, looked out the window and down onto the parking lot of the mall they were in—now abandoned. It was a mostly empty north central district that had been devastated in the early weeks of the Sweats. There was no A/C, and the heat was reaching boiler room levels, but a chill ran up his spine. “Okay.” The last was barely a breath.

  “What does that mean?” SaRah asked, but with more anxiety than affront.

  “There’s a last meeting with the guards we’ve been dealing with, and they want the final payment. It’ll be one more pouch of diamonds—same as the last.”

  “They won’t be demanding more?” Thea Cruz asked. She was mousey and short, as well as being older than the rest by what might have been ten years. It was the first sensible question he’d heard since sitting down.

  “They will attempt to. You people have been the proverbial milk cow, and the Wall will be reluctant to let you go.”

  “What will you do?” Rodrigo asked.

  “Refuse, then threaten to expose them to Salazar and the national government.”

  “But...” Glenna again—and once more jumped on by Titus.

  “They will not like that and counter with a threat.”

  She nodded.

  “That is how the game is played, but they have to know this is the end. Just make sure when you show up for evacuation you are armed.”