The picture. Her gaze drew back to the picture. It was grainy—a telephoto lens at the least and the actual picture enlarged to enhance the details. The black and white didn’t help either. She had seen dozens of “candid” shots like this on the covers of cheap tabloids at supermarket checkouts.
She’d just never expected to see herself in one of them.
It was her and Nick at the pond, lying on the rock together. His hand rested on her breast and he was leaning over her, his features clear. Her hair, the long blonde hair, fanned out over the edge of the rock, smoothed out by the water. Her leg, the one closest to the camera, was bent, hiding more than it revealed—a minor mercy.
Minnie crouched next to her. “Calli, my God, they’ll crucify Nick.”
Calli swallowed hard. She couldn’t cry. She didn’t feel anything. The enormity of the disaster was too much to take in all at once. Any vestige of shame she might have felt at being plastered across a national newspaper buck naked was swept away by the weight of the consequences to come.
“Calli?” Minnie prompted.
She looked at the headline. ¡Escobedo ama Americanos más!
“Ama?” she asked Minnie.
“Um...love. Loves.”
“Escobedo loves Americans more,” Calli translated and sighed. “They’ve already crucified him.”
“Page two,” Minnie prompted.
Calli turned the page. Inside, they had another photo, this one a bad copy of her passport photo. Perhaps even a photocopy taken at the station that first night? They had her name, Callida Munro, emblazoned below the photo in bold, clear Times Roman.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Minnie squeezed her wrist. “I think you need to leave Vistaria.”
Calli shut the paper, to stare at the front page again. The photo. She sighed.
“My geeky cousin Calli...the sultry seductress. Who’d have thought?”
“It’s not funny,” Calli said tiredly.
“No, not at all. In fact I could feel envious,” Minnie confessed. She pointed to the photo. “I look at that and see blazing passion, even love. The body language.” She shook her head. “I always knew Nicolás Escobedo wanted you. I just didn’t realize...”
“What?”
“You match each other.”
Calli folded up the newspaper and gave it to Minnie. “Thanks. The rest of Vistaria will only see that their beloved President’s brother is out screwing American women, so how trustworthy are the Escobedos?” She got up.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m getting dressed.”
“You’re not going to phone him?”
“Hell, no.” Calli laughed dryly. “I’m going to stay as far away from Nick as geography lets me. I think you’re right. I need to leave Vistaria as soon as I can.”
“I’ll let Dad know. You’ll have to sneak into the airport.” Minnie left, shutting the door behind her.
Calli threw on jeans and a tee-shirt, the same clothing she had worn when she landed here. It seemed fitting she would leave that way. She had already packed, thanks to Joshua’s insistence. The two small packs sat next to her bed.
“Calli! Get down here!” Joshua yelled at the top of his lungs.
Calli flew down the three steps to the living room proper and hurried over to where he stood in front of the television, another copy of the newspaper in his fist. He turned up the volume.
Minnie sat on the sofa behind him, chewing her lip.
The screen showed the circular iron fencing around the legislative building, the big fountain in the foreground and just off to one side. The cameraman must have been standing with one foot in the water, for the camera was elevated over the heads of the crowd standing before the closed gates. They were shouting, waving newspapers, chanting, brandishing their fists. There was screaming and people were shaking the ironwork on the gates.
Behind the barrier, five soldiers stood with their machine guns slung over their shoulders and held down by their sides—non-threatening, yet there to be used if needed. Their faces were inscrutable. They wore hard helmets and jungle fatigues.
The voice-over narration was fast and breathy. Panicked.
“This is serious,” Minnie said as Calli sat on the sofa next to her.
“What are they saying, Josh?” Calli asked.
“No military action has taken place yet. It’s making the crowds more frantic. The size of the crowd is growing. There are more people coming onto the Avenue all the time.”
The picture changed, showing a view taken from a vehicle moving along the Avenue of Nations. The many people there jostled each other off the pavements onto the road itself. They looked angry.
“They’re talking about you,” Joshua said and cocked his head to listen closely, “and Americans in general.”
Abruptly, he turned off the television.
“What?” Minnie said.
Joshua sat on the other sofa next to his wife and took her hand. “This is the government station yet they’re asking the same damn fool questions as the crappy newspaper. Why are Americans influencing the government? Why is it allowed to happen?”
Calli hugged her knees to her chest. “Nick isn’t the government,” she protested.
“And you’re just an excuse,” Joshua shot back. “A damned good one as it happens. That’s all they ever needed, Calli. One lousy excuse.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Well, they have that now.”
She hid her face against her knees. “I have to leave the country.”
“Good idea. Only, the first things to shut down in a civil disturbance are the transport systems. They won’t let you out.” Joshua smiled grimly. “You have to stay and face the music, my girl.”
“I wasn’t running away for my sake.”
“I know. They won’t see it that way, though.”
“Who won’t?”
“The rebels. The people. Vistarians. If this rioting keeps up, then the rebels will have a ready-made army at their disposal. It will take very little to turn these angry, roused civilian Vistarians to the rebels’ cause now.” He shook his finger at her. “So you will stay put on that sofa and not make a squeak and we’ll hold our breath and hope this passes too.” He grimaced. “Let’s hope we don’t wake up to worse news tomorrow.”
Calli shuddered. “It can’t get any worse.”
Chapter Fourteen
At eight o’clock that night, the news did turn worse. The television station, which had been broadcasting re-runs all day, broke into an X-Files episode and cut to a studio where an anchorman spoke swiftly, holding a sheet of notes in his hand. The paper trembled.
“Jesus Maria,” Calli breathed. The Spanish was too fast for her to pick up more than the odd word.
Minnie sucked in a quick breath. “Pascuallita! They’re talking about Pascuallita.”
Calli bounced off the sofa and ran to knock on Joshua’s door.
He came out, wrapping a gown around him, barefoot and wild of hair and sat in front of the television.
Minnie had her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. She looked at her father, stricken.
He nodded. “Fighting in the mountains. Just south of Pascuallita. Many rebels. Some deaths. The army is there.” He looked at Calli. “This is it,” he added. “The army has engaged the rebels in combat. This is the birth of a revolution.”
Minnie gave a choked sound. Tears streamed down her face.
Joshua patted her knee. “I’m sure he’ll be okay, your Captain,” he said awkwardly. Then he groped for the remote control. “Wait. They just said something.”
He changed the channel to the local commercial station. It was on the air. A woman sat behind a panel, speaking into the camera. Calli had no trouble interpreting the intent of her message. She radiated fierce joy, even fervor. “That’s why the station went off the air,” she said. “They’ve sold out to the rebels.”
Joshua nodded. “It would seem so. We’ll get nothing but propaganda from them.”
He listened for a moment. “They’ve coordinated their announcement with the rebel action. She is claiming a grand victory for the rebels in Pascuallita. They’ve taken over the town and will march towards the capital, drawing true Vistarians to their ranks as they go.” He grimaced and changed channels. “It reminds me far too much of the Communist crap I had to listen to in Vietnam.”
Calli sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed Minnie’s shoulder. Minnie was still, big tears rolling down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away. “They’ve taken Pascuallita.”
Joshua looked at his daughter, his eyes narrowing. “It’s bullshit, honey. Pure bullshit. The TV station doesn’t have any more idea what’s happening up there than the government station and the government station isn’t saying the army took a beating.”
He listened for a while to the government channel and his face grew grave. He shut the TV off with a snap and threw the remote onto the coffee table. “Ah, truth is always in short supply in wartime.” He got to his feet. “We can’t do anything tonight. Tomorrow, we have to figure a way to leave the country. We’ll steal a boat, if we have to. It’s only a few hours to Acapulco from here.” He ruffled his hair again. “Get some sleep,” he advised.
When his bedroom door shut, Minnie reached for the remote and turned the TV back on. Calli sat beside her and stared at the television, wishing she could understand Spanish better.
For most of the night they stayed on the sofa. Minnie picked up as much of the Spanish as she could while Calli tried hard to distinguish words. Names. After much repetition, the events took shape in her mind.
The attack on the silver mine had been a ruse, a way to scare the Americans and force the government’s strongest ally to take cover. It had also drawn army personnel to the south of the main island, away from Pascuallita, the location of the first main assault.
The strike, when it came, was rushed. The announcers and the experts they interviewed speculated that the rebels had not anticipated the riots in the city. Instead, they had taken advantage of the government’s distraction. Their attack had been, so far, merciless and strong. The army had scurried to meet the challenge, moving through the mountains with less speed and agility than the rebels who had trained and lived there for months.
“They are taking a beating,” Minnie whispered.
Calli fell into a light doze in the small hours of the morning. She could no longer concentrate on the endless run of Spanish, when her heart was so heavy and she was so afraid of what the day ahead might bring. She jerked awake when a hand patted her shoulder. She sat up from her sprawl across the arm of the sofa and blinked up at Joshua. Through the window behind him she saw the lightening sky. The day approached.
“Where’s Minnie?” he said.
She looked around. The sofa was empty.
“Her bed hasn’t been slept in,” Joshua added.
A chilled clamped Calli’s chest. She hurried into Minnie’s bedroom and looked for the pack of essentials Minnie had prepared. It was gone.
“What are you looking for?” Joshua asked, from the door.
“Her pack has gone. So have her hiking boots.” A flat black Vistarian hat sat on the bed. Minnie had brought it back from Pascuallita.
“Pascuallita,” Calli said and turned to Joshua. “I think she’s gone to Pascuallita.”
He opened his mouth in shock. Then, “The car!” He whirled away.
Calli followed him out the front door of the apartment, where he stood looking at the empty spread of cement where the little car normally sat.
“Why?” he asked, at last.
“Duardo’s there.”
“Yes, yes. Why now? Why not last night when the rebellion started? Why not yesterday? What made her do it now?”
Calli went back to the television and sat down. “Something must have happened,” she said as Joshua sat next to her.
She didn’t try to translate. She was too tired to manage it. The last time she had looked at the clock before she had fallen asleep it had been three-thirty in the morning. Now the clock said four-forty. She had dozed for less than an hour. Whatever had pushed Minnie out the door would still be fresh news.
“Oh, hell,” Joshua said. “Pascuallita has fallen.”
“So fast?”
“The rebels have been planning a long time. Pascuallita was not prepared. The town and the base weren’t braced for it.” He grimaced. “Now the rebels have a stronghold they can operate from. That was their plan from the beginning.” He dropped his head into his hands like a man broken. “Minnie is driving straight into their headquarters.”
Calli stood.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I have to stop her somehow. Head her off.”
“How?” Joshua said. The tiniest thread of hope colored his voice.
She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t tell Joshua the idea that had struck her.
“You can’t go to Nicolás Escobedo,” Joshua said. “I hope you’re not thinking of it.”
“He knows Duardo’s family. He knows the area. No one else I know has that advantage.”
“You’re an American. Worse. You’re that American woman, Calli. They’ll tear you to pieces out there.” Yet the hope flared stronger in his voice. He wanted her to convince him she could do this.
Calli rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not dawn yet. The streets will be quiet. I just have to make it to the legislative building. That will be enough, I think.”
“What if Escobedo is not in the city?”
“I don’t know, Uncle Josh! All I can do is try, right? Hell, maybe I’ll steal a car instead of a boat and drive up there myself.”
“No, you mustn’t do that!”
It was the reaction she had anticipated. “So I’ll try the legislative building instead.” It would sound like the more reasonable alternative of the two.
Josh dropped his head back into his hands. “Okay. Okay.” His voice was hoarse.
Calli patted his shoulder again. Then she went to her room and changed. Black trousers, which would meld into what remained of the night, a white tee-shirt and a waist-length dark green windbreaker. She braided her hair tightly, dropped the end of the braid inside the jacket and put on the flat black hat that had been sitting on Minnie’s bed. She suspected it was Duardo’s, perhaps a gift to her, because it was too large for Calli’s head. Her thick braid kept it on her head and low over her eyes.
Josh’s brows rose when she emerged from the bedroom carrying her backpack.
“From a distance they may take me for a Vistarian. At least I won’t be identified as that American woman straight away. That will give me the time I need.” She glanced out the window. “It’s getting lighter. I must go.”
He stood up. “If I were thirty years younger...”
“You’re not, though. Don’t flay yourself with guilt, Uncle Josh. Minnie will be okay. I said I’d watch out for her, didn’t I? You must take care of Beryl.”
“I won’t try to leave today. We’ll stay here, so you’ve got somewhere to head back to when you find her.”
“Alright.” Calli hesitated, then added, “If we don’t arrive back here by tomorrow, you should go. We’ll find our own way over to Mexico.”
He hugged her tightly. “You’ve surprised me a few times since you arrived here, Calli. Never more so than now. You’ve got more strength than I and for that I’m grateful.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough.” She patted his cheek. “Because right now, I’m terrified.”
“Running helps,” he said, without a glimmer of a smile. He nodded towards the door. “Go.”
Calli left, shutting the door quietly so no one in the building would be wakened. She ducked in between the walls into the narrow alley made of stairs—a shortcut for pedestrians. The stairs plunged straight down the hill instead of following the painful hair-pin bends of the road. Her heart raced and her legs trembled—she was afraid of what she must do now. After a few minutes of climbin
g, the trembling in her legs disappeared as the muscles warmed up. Yet her heart continued to flutter.
When she reached the flatter street at the bottom of the hill she looked to the left—north—where the heart of the city lay. The main street that connected with the Avenue of Nations was a hundred yards away. The street was deserted, dusty.
Running helps, Joshua had said.
She broke into a slow jog, heading for the city, her backpack bouncing against her back, the fresh morning air bathing her face. After a few minutes her fear evaporated and the unsteady beat of her heart settled into a strong rhythm in response to her body’s need for oxygen. Josh had been right.
The jogging ate up the distance. Soon she had reached the densely populated inner city core. Many more people appeared, gathering in small groups and whispering together. She dropped to a swift walk, not willing to draw attention to herself. Ahead she could see the big main square, the same square she had been watching those long hours when she had waited in the cell. Now she knew the square was the center of the city and the Avenue of Nations ran off the square, heading west towards the mountains.
She turned into the wide road and hurried along the sidewalk, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding people. She looked ahead to see how many people lingered about the fountain. She could not see it yet.
There were more people on the Avenue, although they were not threatening. Perhaps the outbreak of rebellion in the north had stolen the rioters’ thunder and they had given up. The small hope buoyed her as she climbed the short slope to the top of the Avenue and saw for the first time the fountain there. If any rioters remained, they would surely be in front of the gates.
There were people sleeping there. They lay on the concrete about the base of the fountain, their belongings beside them. They were homeless, perhaps refugees from Pascuallita or the new little township that had sprung up around the Garrido mine. The government had not had time to organize refugee camps yet.
It occurred to her that these people were as scared about the outbreak of war in the north as she and Minnie had been, sitting on the sofa together last night, whispering their speculations to each other.
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