“I’m sorry,” she said at last when she thought she could speak and not betray herself further. “I didn’t mean to spoil the mood.”
“Nothing you could do could spoil the mood right now.” He brought his hand down to rest on her again. “This is the time I like best, when the physical needs are filled and raise their demands no more. In the moments after it is pure emotion. Feelings.”
“Happy ones, they should be,” Calli said, and gave a sniff.
“Happy, sad, regretful, it doesn’t matter what they are, for they are always truthful ones and that is when you learn the most, if you watch for them.”
She put her arms around his neck and drew him down to kiss him and did not answer. Above all else, she could not afford to let him see the truth.
* * * * *
They lingered by the pool until the sun was high.
Hunger drove them indoors in search of food. By the time the meal was prepared they were so ravenous, they did not bother with the dining room. They ate standing up in the kitchen.
After her last mouthful, Calli burped.
Nick laughed. “For such an uncivilized meal, only a very civilized espresso will finish it off properly.”
“God yes, coffee!” Calli agreed.
Right by her elbow, a phone rang. It was so unexpected she jumped sideways and turned to look at the counter, her heart hammering. Only Nick’s jacket lay there.
He reached past her to pick up the jacket and pull out a cell phone from the inside pocket. His eyes had narrowed, as if he was thinking hard, and his mind was miles away. In Lozano Colinas, she realized—that was where his mind had turned.
“Sì?” he answered. His frown deepened. Then he took a deep breath, the kind a person takes when they’ve received bad news. His eyes closed briefly.
Calli’s heart beat so hard it hurt. It wasn’t simply that this call marked the end of her time here. It was also the news that Nick was hearing, that made him look much older than his thirty-plus years.
“Gracias,” he murmured and ended the call. He dropped the phone onto the jacket and leaned against the counter, his head low.
Calli rested her hand on his shoulder, unsure whether he wanted comfort, yet unable to stand by and watch him suffer alone. She didn’t prompt him to tell her about the call. He would, or he would not. She had no right to insist on anything, anymore. She shared her empathy in silence, knowing it was one of the last things she could do for Nicolás Escobedo before he went back to his life and the country he loved.
He straightened and picked up her hand and held it in both of his. His sigh gusted out. “Fighting has broken out at the mine on Las Piedras. Two Vistarians have been killed.”
“Fighting? Who is fighting who?”
“Vistarians.” His expression was bleak. “It’s the rebels, Calli. They’ve come down from the mountains, much sooner than we thought they would, and not where we guessed they would strike first.” He pushed his hands through his still damp hair. “I have to go.”
“Of course you do.”
“You must return to the city, you and Minnie, and you must wait for your Uncle to return from the mine. The army has standing orders to evacuate foreign nationals, especially any Americans, as a first priority if violence breaks out. They will get him and his people back to the city. You must stay with him until we know if this is a sustained attack or if it is simply a skirmish.”
“Do you think it’s just a skirmish?”
“I don’t know. The timing, the location, goes against all good strategic thinking, so there’s hope this is a single moment we are dealing with. Until we know for certain I want you in the city and safe.”
“Is the city safe?”
“Safer than Pascuallita.” He picked up the cell phone again, paused to think, then punched in a number. The conversation, all in Spanish, seemed to be with two people, for after a short time he paused, then his manner became more abrupt and brusque. He closed the phone with a snap and thrust it into the jacket. He put the jacket on.
“Pack your things, Calli. Quickly. We must leave at once.”
Chapter Thirteen
Calli had learned that Pascuallita was four hours away from the city by road. Duardo managed the journey in three hours and fifteen minutes—a jolting, panic-inducing race that wiped any lingering emotions Calli may have held from leaving Nick.
Nick had driven her to Pascuallita. On the northern edges of the town, Duardo and Minnie stood waiting, Minnie’s bags at their feet. The phone call Nick had made just before they’d left his house had been to Duardo, she realized, setting up this meeting.
Duardo wore civilian clothes. His jacket was folded and tucked under his arm. From the way he carried it, Calli knew he had a gun inside the folds.
Without word or greeting, he threw Minnie’s bags into the back of the Jeep with Calli’s. He hoisted Minnie up into the back, too, and Nick showed Calli how to unfold the two small jump seats there. She climbed into the back with Minnie, while Duardo settled behind the wheel of the Jeep and Nick moved over to the passenger seat. Their unspoken coordination made it look like they were reading each other’s minds.
The sensation was eerie. Calli knew she watched two men well-trained in military arts going about their grim business. Because they were so well grounded in their work, no communication was needed.
Duardo pushed the Jeep into gear and took off, wheels spinning. Calli grabbed at the rails surrounding the back of the Jeep. Minnie gripped her other hand and held on as the Jeep roared and rocketed downhill towards the coast. They turned onto sealed road after ten minutes. Eight minutes later, Calli saw striped boom gates that marked the entrance to the army base. Duardo’s base.
Duardo pulled up right next to the boom gates, the red and white timber almost brushing Nick’s shirt sleeve. There came a shout from the gate house. A soldier wearing fatigues and a machine gun slung over his shoulder ran over to lean on the boom gate and lift it.
Nick got out of the Jeep and moved up to Calli’s side.
“Minnie, come to the front,” Duardo said.
Nick glanced around, checking for observers. With an acute disappointment, she realized that there would be no kiss goodbye, no soft words that would linger and comfort her, later.
“Go,” she said. “There’s no need to say anything.”
His hand, hidden by his body, rested over hers on the edge of the Jeep. “I would have it otherwise. I would have asked for more time.”
She took a breath and swallowed, pushing back the childish wail building in her. “Really?”
His eyes locked onto hers, holding her gaze. “Really.”
“Señor,” Duardo said quietly. A warning.
Nick dropped his hand from hers. “Duardo is a good driver. He knows the road to the city well. He will get you back to the city. Stay there. If the fighting continues, then you must leave the country as soon as you can. Promise me you will do this, if it comes.”
“I promise.”
He nodded and turned away. The soldier with the machine gun escorted him down the access road. Another Jeep, this one painted in camouflage greens, waited with two soldiers in the front. The little back door hung open and waiting for Nick. The engine ticked.
He didn’t look back.
Calli took another deep, controlled breath to fill the corners of her lungs and clenched her jaw.
“Do up your seatbelt,” Duardo said to Minnie. She buckled her belt immediately. Duardo glanced at Calli. “You must hold tight, yes?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.
He nodded and dropped the Jeep into gear and drove off, accelerating hard.
The wind whipped her hair into her eyes and gave a legitimate reason for her tears.
* * * * *
Duardo pulled up at the apartment as the sun slid low on the horizon. They climbed from the Jeep stiffly. Everything sounded muffled, for the wind and the roar of the Jeep engine had desensitized Calli’s hearing. Duardo
was not content to sit behind slower traffic for longer than necessary. He slipped between the vehicle he was overtaking and oncoming cars with only inches to spare. He was familiar with the road and knew exactly how much he could risk.
Once, he had braked hard and stayed behind a wagon pulled by a 50s vintage Oldsmobile, even though the road ahead seemed clear. He shook his head. “Too much traffic. More than usual. The news has scared them.”
A few seconds later she saw why he had not tried to pass the wagon. The road turned into a sharp left turn, moving further down the valley, even though the terrain continued to slope along the cliff side, deceiving the eye. As soon as they had made the turn, he dropped the Jeep into a lower gear and passed the truck with a snarl of the engine.
That had been one of the few times he had spoken and the only time he had shared his thoughts.
Now he carried Minnie’s luggage into the apartment. Minnie stayed at the Jeep. Inside, Beryl struggled to her feet from the sofa, her eyes widening when she saw Duardo. He nodded at her and went back to the Jeep.
Calli followed him. “You’re going back to Pascuallita?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not fit yet,” Minnie said. Her tone told Calli her argument would not sway him.
He shrugged. “I will be needed, anyway.”
“I know.” She sighed.
He pulled Minnie to him, his hand in her hair and Calli looked away, moved and embarrassed by the tenderness on his face as he looked down at her. She walked until she could no longer hear the words in their whispers. When the Jeep engine started up again, she turned back.
Minnie stood with her arms wrapped around her, as if she were cold, watching as Duardo turned the Jeep around. He waved and drove away and as he turned the bend down the road, he waved again.
Then he was gone.
Minnie dropped her head and Calli moved to put her arm around her shoulders, knowing she wanted comfort. Yet Minnie didn’t cry and she didn’t seem sad. She looked at Calli with a crooked smile. “He’s off to be a soldier. That’s what Duardo is, and I love him for it.”
* * * * *
Three hours later, Joshua arrived home, dusty and wrinkled, yet calm. He took a moment to assure Beryl he was unharmed, as she fluttered around him. “They got us off the island first. Then they went back to help the Vistarians,” he said. “Escobedo said no harm would come to Americans. I never thought they would sacrifice their own countrymen to live up to that promise.”
“Sacrifice?” Beryl said sharply.
“Two died in the first attack,” he said. “Two more, later. They were civilians, working the trucks. Hell, I knew one of them.” He sighed.
Calli thought of Duardo, itching to get back to base, yet detouring by more than six hours to make sure he got her and Minnie home safely. Nick, who’s first thought and first action had been to arrange that safe return. “Vistarians are an honorable race. They have strength of character you don’t see often these days.”
“No, by God,” Joshua agreed. He plucked at his sweaty shirt. “I need a shower, and then we must make plans and phone calls.”
* * * * *
For the next twenty-four hours they all remained in the apartment, with the television on the government station. The only other commercial Vistarian channel had abruptly gone off the air at midnight with no announcement or warning. The government channel reported the news as it developed, the anchorwoman speaking in subdued, sedate tones. Joshua, who’s Spanish was stronger than anyone’s, translated when asked. Mostly he sat staring at the screen, his brow wrinkled, deep in thought.
They tried CNN, available on cable, only the States had not yet taken any notice of events in Vistaria. The major headlines focused on the President’s tour of a Detroit automobile factory. The Acapulco station merely mentioned that there had been a riot at the Garrido silver mine on Vistaria. Then it spent twice the air time reporting on Jose Escobedo’s daughter. Carmen Escobedo was vacationing in Acapulco for the summer holidays, energetically celebrating her graduation from Harvard law school with various American and Mexican celebrities who gravitated to the seaside resort every summer.
Joshua, when he was not watching the television, kept them busy.
“You must pack three ways,” he told them. “Until we know if this is the start of a full out revolution, or just a fart in a bottle, we have to assume the worst. You pack one small bag with every essential you can’t live without if you’re crossing national borders—passport and other ID, money, Tampax.”
“Dad!” Minnie gasped, shocked.
He shook his finger at her. “I mean it, Minerva. When you’re on the run, you won’t be able to stop at the nearest 7-11 for that sort of stuff. Take it with you. Only, pack as lightly as you can because you’re going to be carrying all the way. The second packing is a second pack or a suitcase you can carry. That one has less essential stuff. Clothes, toiletries, anything you could live without if you and the suitcase part ways.”
“And the third pack?” Calli asked.
“Everything else,” he said simply. “Suitcases, boxes and crates, ready to ship. It may never leave Vistaria, although we should be ready if the opportunity occurs.”
* * * * *
On the second night they went to bed early, all of them tired from packing and worrying. Calli hoped she would sleep well. She had a feeling that sleep would be in short supply for a while.
The fighting at the silver mine had ceased at sunset. The rebels receded back into the forest and disappeared. The army combed the island and established the raid had been launched from boats in the channel and the rebels had made their escape that way, too. They had gone back to their mountain hideouts.
That evening the government station showed footage of the President visiting the silver mine and the families of the victims of the raid. Jose Escobedo had reassured Vistarians repeatedly that the raid could not possibly presage further violence, because the rebels had achieved their apparent aim—the mine had shut down. In addition, the Americans had fled the mine and now considered leaving the country. Joshua translated the rest with a sour look. The loss of American know-how would mean the end of the mine and the doom of Vistaria’s prosperity for the near future. When Vistarians felt the pinch of a tight economy once more they would do well to remember this sad day...
“Politicians,” he said, making it sound like a curse. “Even Escobedo cannot resist scoring points from this thing.”
Calli’s attention, though, was skewered by the grainy outside-broadcast images on the screen. Nicolás Escobedo had also been on the island and walked amongst the small crowd of people that followed the President. As the camera panned past him, he turned to speak to someone by his shoulder, the square jaw outlined by the last of the summer daylight.
Her heart stirred painfully. She forced herself to look away from the television. Minnie watched her and said nothing.
Joshua turned the television off after that. “I think it might be all right,” he declared, rubbing his hand through his hair, scrubbing at it. “I think it was a one-off thing, like the President said. Nothing else has happened for over twenty-four hours. We might be okay.”
“You mean I packed for no reason?” Minnie protested.
“Leave everything packed. From now on, we operate under yellow alert. You girls grew up watching Star Trek so you know what I mean. Assume the worst, prepare for the worst, just don’t fire the guns just yet. Speaking of which...do either of you have pistols at all?”
“Oh my,” Beryl murmured.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Minnie said. “I know Duardo had one.”
Calli shook her head. “No. Neither of us have guns,” she told Joshua.
“Good. Now listen hard. Do not even think about acquiring arms. Of any sort. Not even for self-protection. This is not the States and I’m damn sure that the rebels are not kitted out with uniforms or even quasi-military clothes. It means that if you are found with a gun in your possession, you insta
ntly stop being a civilian and become a rebel. Calli, you’ve been in prison. Justice here isn’t like you’d get back home. Do you think they will throw you in jail and give you a trial if you’re found with guns on you?”
Calli shivered. “You’ve made your point.”
“Good. Minnie, promise me.”
“I promise,” she said, subdued.
They went to bed, their moods pensive. No one felt like talking or watching vapid entertainment. The Vistarian commercial station still broadcast static.
Calli hugged herself, wishing it were Nick’s arms around her. She wished he was there, whispering reassurances into her ear, his deep voice crooning that everything would be all right, that of course the rebels would not try anything while he were there and he would protect her if they did...
Only Nick was busy working to preserve his country and if he thought of her at all, it was probably with a small, reminiscing smile for a risky indulgence.
With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, knowing sleep would come no easier to her than it had on other nights in Vistaria.
She was woken by frantic banging on her bedroom door and sat up, blinking away sleep. It was daylight.
“What is it?” she called.
“The door is locked! Calli!” Minnie’s voice.
Calli crawled out of bed and unlocked the door. Minnie pushed into the room waving a newspaper. “Calli...ohmigod, Calli.” She gripped Calli’s wrist and shook it, waving the paper at her. Her eyes were wide, her face pale.
“What?” Calli asked, her heart skittering. War? Assassination? Nick!
She grabbed the paper and held it so she could scan the front page. It had to be a front page headline.
It was.
Calli dropped onto the office chair that Joshua had never got around to moving out of the room, her legs draining of strength. She let the paper fall on her knees, staring at the headlines and the terrible picture beneath.
The headline was in fifty point font. Screaming.
Vistaria Has Fallen Page 17