Vistaria Has Fallen

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Minnie curled up into a ball on the back seat. Her eyes were closed. Shutting out the world, Calli suspected.

  Nick didn’t head for the main gates. Instead, he drove across the concrete to a gravel path that skirted the southern wing of the palace. Beyond the building the manicured lawns turned to wild grasses. The road slipped between trees and emerged onto a narrow and deserted neighborhood street, a mile from the palace. He turned left and headed for the downtown area.

  As soon as they turned onto a major road Nick braked sharply. People moved along the street itself. They were carrying, pulling or pushing belongings in sacks, carts, trolleys, whatever carrier was to hand. They hurried along, fear the common expression on their faces. Most of them headed east.

  “Where are they going?” Calli breathed.

  “The coast. Off island. It’s a hereditary instinct in Vistarians to flee the island when trouble strikes.” He changed gears and let the car drop into a crawl. “We’ll have to use side roads. There’s a route over the back of the hill that will get us to your apartment.”

  “What trouble are they running from? The rebels are north.”

  Nick glanced at her. “Not for long. If people are fleeing the city, they expect the fighting to break out here at any moment. Word will have passed.” He nudged the car through the crowd, easing it to the right. Once he reached a side street, he picked up speed, for the street was deserted.

  No businesses were open. It reminded Calli of news footage she had seen of cities that were the focus of war—empty streets, bombed-out cars and silence. Everywhere, the dust and rubble of disaster.

  “How could this happen so fast?” she asked. “Yesterday, las colinas was a normal city. Even this morning I did not see this sort of...” She was at a loss to categorize what she saw.

  “Exodus,” Nick supplied. “I was caught napping. Worse. I was complacent. I thought we had time, Jose and I, to fix this.” He did not say the words with any emphasis.

  Calli touched his shoulder. “You can’t take on all the guilt. There are others who are also responsible for Vistaria.”

  He glanced at her and his expression was stony and unforgiving. “The others didn’t fuck up as badly as I did.”

  He said it gently but he might have slapped her and achieved the same impact. She snatched her hand back and folded her arms across her stomach, feeling sick.

  The rest of the trip to the apartment was silent. Calli did not attempt to cross the soundless barrier between them. When Nick pulled up at the apartment, she opened the door herself and then opened Minnie’s. She tugged on Minnie’s hand and coaxed her out.

  Nick did not linger to watch. He moved ahead to the front door. He knocked, a hard rap and when Joshua opened it, he shepherded him inside.

  Calli walked Minnie into the apartment and turned her to face her. She stroked her cheek. “Did you lose your pack of essentials?”

  “Everything is in my pockets,” Minnie said, her voice ethereal. Distant.

  In the lounge room, Calli could hear Nick talking to Joshua. Low, controlled. The leader was back in charge again.

  “We must leave again very soon. Do you have anything else you want to take?”

  Minnie roused a little. “I don’t want to leave at all.”

  “We have to. The fighting will break out in the city soon. We have to cross over to Mexico. Foreign nationals here, especially Americans, won’t be treated well. This is their war, Minnie. Not ours.”

  Minnie took a long moment to process what Calli had said. Then she nodded and sighed. The sigh vented her resistance. “Yes,” she breathed. “I suppose we must leave.”

  * * * * *

  Less than an hour later they piled back into the car. This time Joshua and Beryl were with them. The plan was simple. They would drive to the yacht club on the coast and use Nick’s boat to cross over to Acapulco.

  Nick sat behind the wheel again, with Joshua in the passenger seat. Between Beryl and Calli in the back seat, Minnie was a small statue. She had withdrawn into herself.

  Her remoteness worried Calli. She didn’t know what to do about it. She mentally listed it as something she must take care of when they reached the boat. She couldn’t deal with it now. The drive to the yacht club would not be as breezy as Joshua made it sound.

  Nick had an encyclopedic knowledge of back roads and side streets. As a result, they avoided crowded main thoroughfares. When they drew closer to the eastern outskirts of the city, Nick sat up straighter, showing more alertness than before.

  “What is it?” Joshua asked.

  “We have to use the main road for a few miles. It’s the only one until we get to a turnoff five miles from here.”

  “Oh, well,” Joshua said.

  The car climbed over a raised lip and bumped onto a wide, sealed road. They turned right, heading east. The sun sat low behind them, sending their long shadow down the road.

  There was a lot of traffic. Cars, buses, mini-vans, rusted out hulks blowing blue smoke, even horse-drawn carts. Along both sides of the road a long, strung-out line of people headed east, too, carrying their burdens, shepherding children, goats and other household animals. This far from the city, they had settled into a rhythm and uniform speed. None of the panic Calli had seen in the city showed here. Instead, she saw a stoicism that spoke more clearly than words how used to fleeing and hiding Vistarians were. Nick had said it was in their blood, part of every page of their history.

  She felt sad for the pretty country and happy people. Their resistance to outsiders, to Americans, hadn’t been whipped up overnight. The rebels had tapped into a deep-rooted foundation of fear built by generations of abuse. Her sadness was tinged with indignation, too. How could a people be treated this way? How could anyone watch it and not want to take up their cause?

  Nick had taken up that cause. Now he would gaze upon these refugees and tell himself he had failed to save them from this misery.

  She sat on the edge of the seat and reach through the front seats to lay her hand on his chest. Although she could not see him because of the headrest, she said, “Don’t look at them and tell yourself it’s finished, Nick. This doesn’t have to be the end. Not until you decide it’s over.”

  Silence. She knew he listened, though, for he stopped breathing. His chest did not rise or fall under her hand.

  “Yes, they’re taking a beating and you’ve made a mistake,” she added. “It was just a mistake, though. It doesn’t have to be fatal. Look at them, Nick. They’re sturdy, determined. All they need is you to find a way for them to get back what they’ve lost.”

  She felt him breathe again. A deep breath. He picked up her hand. His lips pressed against the backs of her fingers.

  Satisfied, she sat back again.

  Joshua studied her, his expression thoughtful. She tried to smile at him and could only curl up one corner of her mouth.

  Thirty minutes later, after climbing up and down undulating hills, they turned off the main road without trouble, nosing their way through the pedestrians with agonizing slowness. The new road was sandy for they were closer to the coast. It was firm enough for Nick to pick up speed.

  The trees closed in around them, crowding right up to the edges of the road. Small branches swiped across the windows. After a mile the hard dirt road swung left, heading northwest. A tiny track branched off to the right.

  Nick turned right. He did not slow his speed. Now the bushes scraped along the sides and windows. The dirt grew soft and boggy.

  They turned a long, curving bend in the road. Nick worked at the wheel to keep the car in the deep ruts as it leaned sideways. As the curve straightened, two things happened at once. The windscreen in front of Nick blossomed with three stars that radiated out across the glass and Joshua threw up his hands with a dismayed, “Holy shit!”

  Nick stamped on the brakes and the car slewed to a halt, the back of it fishtailing in the loose sand. He fought the wheel to keep the skid under control. They halted, the engine ticking.
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  On the road ahead were two men standing with their legs spread. A third was off to the side, lowering the gun he had been aiming at the car.

  Joshua whistled. “Bulletproof glass?” he asked Nick.

  Nick nodded.

  “You are one lucky son of a bitch,” Joshua declared.

  It confirmed what Calli had thought—the stars on the windscreen were bullet marks.

  “Everyone stay still. Nobody say a word, no matter what they say. Understood?” Nick said in an undertone.

  “Who are they?” Calli breathed.

  “I think we’re about to meet our first official rebels.”

  The smallest of the pair standing on the road waved them forward. The man with the pistol ran down to stand level with the car and Joshua’s open window. “Fuera! Salga del coche.”

  “What did he say?” Beryl whispered.

  “Ponga las manos arriba!” he screamed.

  Joshua shot his hands up into the air. “All right, already,” he said. “I’m getting out.”

  “All of you!” the man said with a heavy accent. “All. Out.”

  Nick switched off the engine, pulled out the keys and got out of the car. Calli opened her door and tugged Minnie into following her.

  The man with the gun herded them toward the other two. A fourth man stepped out of the trees, pointing a rifle with a long, curved magazine. Calli caught her breath and tried not to show any reaction. The fourth man was Harry, the congenial guitar player she had met in the truck on the way to the party. He did not appear as young or easy-going, now.

  They were surrounded. Calli kept Beryl and Minnie beside her and in the center of the ring where Nick, Joshua and she would offer a little protection if the men fired.

  The smaller of the two men standing in the middle of the road appeared to be unarmed. The other held a large revolver, cradling it in the crook of his other arm, his finger resting against the barrel. All of them were unshaved and dirty. None wore anything that resembled a uniform. Harry wore the jeans and tee-shirt she had seen him in at the party.

  The small man smiled as Nick stopped in front of him and spread his hands in welcome. “La mirada lo que yo me agarré hoy...señor Nicolás Escobedo.” He gloated.

  “Pablo Santos,” Nick drawled. “I’m surprised to find you on the other side.”

  Pablo laughed a little. It was not a pleasant sound. “When Serrano told me to watch this dirty road, I thought he had sent me away. He was right, after all. He said rich bastardos would try to get to their big boats and run away. I do not think even he thought someone like you would run away, el leopardo.”

  Nick’s glare was his only answer.

  “Oye, Pablo!” It was Harry. “La alta rubia allí. Esa es la dama fuerte.”

  In amongst the Spanish, Calli focused on words she recognized. La dama fuerte. Her skin crawled. Harry was talking about her.

  Pablo stepped forward, trying to move past Joshua so he could see her. “La mujer de Escobedo?” he asked with an evil smile and reached behind his back.

  His movement triggered Nick. Nick took two big strides toward Calli, pushing Beryl out of the way as he did so. A shout went up from the rebels surrounding them, panic clear in their voices. Nick threw his left arm around Calli and spun her around. Calli felt his right hand tug something between them. His hand shot out to point at Pablo...and his gun was in it.

  Beryl screamed and Minnie dropped to the ground, her hands over her ears.

  At the same time Pablo pulled his hand out from behind his back and brought up a revolver and cocked it, pointing it straight at Nick.

  Both of them grew still, their guns aimed at each other.

  Nick had pulled her around so she would be out of the line of fire. Calli trembled. Pablo had either intended to shoot her out of hand, or else use her to force Nick to comply with whatever he wanted. Thank God Nick had guessed his intentions.

  Pablo smiled. “Shoot me, and Harry will kill everyone here. Including you.”

  “You’ll be dead, though,” Nick responded, his voice low and even.

  Pablo considered it a moment. Then, with a quick movement he lifted his revolver up in the air, taking his finger off the trigger. “You see?” he said. “This will get us nowhere.”

  Nick didn’t lower his gun and from the corner of her eye Calli could see that none of the other men had, either.

  Pablo shrugged and let the gun hang from his hand. “We have more to offer you, señor Escobedo, than a bullet.”

  “Recruitment?” Nick said, his voice dry. “What makes you think I would sell out as easily as you?”

  Pablo’s face flushed. He shook his head, dismissing the criticism. “How long is it since you heard a status report, Nicolás? Three hours? More?”

  Nick didn’t answer.

  “The army has laid down its weapons. The people have emerged from their homes to show support for the revolution. Serrano is on his way to the palace. Your brother Jose will be escorted from the grounds before midnight tonight. We have won, a great victory that will be forever known as the fastest revolution in history.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Nick said.

  Pablo shrugged. “Believe me. Or not. It doesn’t matter. I can see from your face that you know the end is near even if it has not happened already. We could use your skills, el leopardo rojo. We could use your expertise.”

  Nick shook his head.

  “Think about it,” Pablo encouraged. “You have worked your whole life to make Vistaria a good country. Serrano is offering you a second chance to continue that work. He would be a fool to not acknowledge your skills. He knows and you know, Nicolás, that after today, after this revolution is over, there will be much rebuilding. Much more work to do.”

  “Why would I consider such an offer when you and your associates have already wiped out all the work I have done?”

  Pablo pointed to Harry, on the other side of the irregular circle surrounding them. “Because if you do not agree, Harry will shoot you all.”

  “I see. Work for Vistaria or die. Is that it? If I agree, you let the rest of them go?”

  Jose took a moment to answer. “I have my orders.”

  Nick lowered his gun. Calli wanted to protest, to cry out her disappointment. Only, how could Nick resist such an offer?

  His arm loosened. He stepped back and lifted her chin. “I have to accept.”

  “I know.” She held back the torrent of words, the warnings her instincts were yelling at her.

  He kissed her. It was a dry, passionless touch of the lips. She had lost whatever hold she might have had. Nick had moved on. The man that kissed her now had no thought for her. His mind was elsewhere, already turned to the task of rebuilding a country. He had no use for the American woman who started the conflagration that had ruined that country in the first place.

  He planted his hand in the middle of her chest. “Go away,” he said and gave her a mighty shove. It sent her tumbling backwards, to land flat on the dirt. She grunted as her breath wheeze out.

  She lifted her head, stunned, just in time to see Nick spin on his heel in a full circle, the gun coming up. He fired one shot and Harry dropped to the ground, the lethal-looking rifle clattering down with him.

  “Down!” Nick said.

  Joshua dropped to the ground, bringing Beryl with him, the old soldiering reactions barely blunted. Minnie remained a condensed ball on the ground.

  Nick spun again, another half circle, to face Pablo. The revolutionary was just bringing his revolver up to aim, anger and shock building on his face. Nick shot him between the eyes, then leapt toward the crumpling body.

  The man who had remained in the middle of the road fired his pistol at the place where Nick had been a second before.

  Nick caught and held Pablo’s body against him, as a shield. He shot the man with the revolver. Calli saw the small red rose bloom on the man’s forehead as his knees gave way and he folded to the dirt.

  The fourth man was between Nick
and the car. He had just brought his gun up to aim, shock slowing his movements. Nick spun to face him, bringing Pablo’s body around, too. He pulled the trigger for a fourth time.

  The man fired, anyway. The bullet thudded into the sand at Nick’s feet. The man fell over and lay still.

  Quiet gripped them.

  “Stay down,” Nick said, his voice flat. He turned, his gun still at the ready, checking all three of the rebels. His face was an expressionless mask, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Then he straightened and let Pablo’s body drop to the ground. He put another bullet in the man’s temple. He walked around to the other three rebels and did the same to each.

  He moved to crouch next to Joshua where the older man lay on one elbow, his arm around Beryl, who had her face buried against his shoulder. “We’re okay,” Joshua said.

  Nick nodded and moved to Minnie. “Minnie?” He laid his hand on her shoulder.

  She pointed to Harry and her hand trembled. “He was the one. He was the guy at the party.”

  “I remember his face.” Nick patted her shoulder.

  “It was he who nearly got Duardo killed—” She stopped and lowered her hand. She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m okay,” she said hollowly. Nick patted her shoulder.

  He rose and came over to where Calli lay propped on her elbows. He crouched next to her and put the gun on the ground, then helped her sit up.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. “When I pushed?”

  “My pride, for a moment. God, Nick, I thought you were going to join them!”

  “That’s what I wanted them to think. It’s the only way I could get them to relax and drop their guard just enough to give me the time I needed against four of them.”

  “I still can’t believe you pulled it off.”

  He dropped his gaze, as if he was ashamed. “I was tempted,” he confessed, his voice low. “For a moment I considered it.”

  “That’s natural,” she said. “He offered you the one thing in your life that has meaning.”

  “The price for that was giving up the only other thing in my life with meaning.” Nick lifted his head. “Pablo’s orders were to kill anyone trying to leave the country. He knew I had guessed what those orders were. I could see it in his eyes.” He got to his feet and helped her to hers.