V-Day

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Duardo gripped his rifle and stepped down onto the ground. Behind him, the rest of the men streamed off the craft.

  This was the square where, many months ago, Duardo had first seen Minnie, standing beside the police station while she waited for her father and Calli to emerge.

  It was ironic that he be standing here now.

  He glanced around the big square as the other two Blackhawks settled and their rotors also came to a slow stop.

  Most of the Vistarians in the square were carrying heavy packs, pulling suitcases and carrying possessions in bags. They were leaving. The message counting down on Duardo’s phone had goosed them into leaving, too.

  The sight of the three Blackhawks brought them to an astonished halt, though.

  A dozen of them dropped their bags and hurried over to the helicopters. They spotted Duardo and surrounded him. Their questions were quick and anxious.

  “You’re here to free us?”

  “You’ve come to end the war?”

  “Are you going to take the Palace?”

  “Are you going to take Serrano prisoner?”

  “Is this the end of the war?”

  Duardo held up his hand. “Yes to all the above.”

  Their smiles took his breath away.

  “Only, you must leave the city,” Duardo told them. “The threat is real. The countdown on your phones and tablets is real. Go now. We’ll take care of this.”

  They thanked him over and over, before they reluctantly went back to their bags and boxes and picked them up again. There were others, not as forward as the first, who questioned them. The answers made them look at Duardo sharply. They smiled and reached for the arms and shoulders of their companions and spoke quickly as they escaped the square.

  Word would pass.

  Satisfied, Duardo hefted his rifle. “Spread out in the formation you were given!” he cried. “There are still Insurrectos in the city and they’ll be guarding the Palace. This will not be a cakewalk! Move out!”

  Aguado pushed himself off the fuselage of the Blackhawk and unslung his rifle. “Finally,” he said, sounding aggrieved. He gave a signal and the Mexican contingent spread out among the Loyalists, filling the ranks.

  They would fan across the square, out into the city streets, to approach the Palace from three directions. The thickest body of men were heading for the Palace by the most direct route, along the Avenue of Nations.

  It was a beautiful sight.

  *

  THE FOREST ERUPTED WITH GUNSHOTS, most of them single. The shouting Chloe could hear echoed among the trees, muffling the words. The tone was panicky. She narrowed down her focus, watching Cristián’s flank. It was his job to watch the other side. If she turned to check, she would create a blind spot.

  None of the shots came close to where they stood against the tree, although they both stayed still and silent, their senses racked up to the highest level.

  A submachine gun let out a staccato burst and Chloe jumped, startled. She kept the pistol up, though.

  The submachine gun fire was the last of the Insurrecto resistance, for shortly after came a sharp three tone whistle.

  Then, one after another, Parris’ men appeared, moving down the track.

  Chloe lowered her arm. It trembled.

  Cristián pushed against the tree, shifting himself away from her. His gaze met hers. “Please don’t do anything so insane, ever again.”

  “It could have worked,” she said defensively. “They would have had to take me back to the base, which would pull them away from you.”

  He cupped her cheek, his dark gray eyes glittering with emotion she had trouble understanding, for her heart slammed and her breath stuck in her throat. “Not even to save me,” he insisted.

  “The Insurrectos would pay rubies to have you in their interrogation chamber. You’re a key player in this war. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  He shook his head. “You are the keystone, Chloe. You hold everything up and make it make sense and you will always do that, long after this war is over.”

  Her breath evaporated. Chloe could only look at him, her body aching and her heart zooming.

  He kissed her.

  Chloe lost track of everything except her body and every nerve ending, which fizzed and flared at once.

  “Jesus, you two. Get a room.”

  Locke’s complaint made Cristián raise his head. “Take a hike, lieutenant,” he growled back.

  Locke grinned. “You know how tinny-assed, dumb-lucky you were with that stupid stunt you pulled?”

  Cristián nodded. “Down to the last inch, yeah, I do know.”

  Parris Graves was standing on the road, her rifle under her arm, grinning. She wiped the grin away when Chloe spotted her and shook her head. “What the fuck am I going to do with you two? We were supposed to sneak to the beach.”

  “You could leave us behind, Captain,” Cristián said, stepping away from Chloe.

  The air was cool against her now his body heat was gone and she shivered.

  “And get my ass kicked for losing a valuable asset? Not happening,” Parris said. “Fifteen minutes, everyone. Eat, if you’ve got food. We’ll push for the beach at best speed now.”

  Chloe pulled out her phone.

  1 hour, 37 minutes.

  18.

  “AT MAXIMUM SPEED, WE CAN be on the main island in just over two hours,” Adán said, easing himself down onto the deck of the launch. He took his cane back from Minnie. “This thing does thirty knots with the throttle cranked and these engines, only it uses up the juice at that speed.”

  “I don’t care about gas,” Minnie said, as Adán lifted her down to the polished desk. “This is a one-way trip. The house is compromised. When Zapatero doesn’t report back, Serrano could send another team to do the job and another one after that. The safest place we can be, now, is standing right behind the Loyalist army.”

  Téra and Rubén hurried along the jetty at a decent clip, Rubén’s crutches swinging energetically.

  “Did Zapatero have anything to say?” Adán asked, as Téra jumped down to the deck and turned to help Rey down.

  “He’s a pragmatic bastard,” Rey said. “I suggested he walk to Acapulco, get himself lost there and wait out the war. If the women driving the Escalades to Acapulco don’t run him off the road, he’ll live a long, unproductive life.” His tone was sour.

  “Did you let Zapatero know the war would be over in a few hours?” Minnie asked.

  “Oh dear, I forgot,” Rey said, his tone flat.

  Adán grinned. He worked his way over to the wheel and hooked his cane on the lip of the dashboard. He put his finger on the green button and looked over his shoulder. “Better grab a seat,” he told them. “This will be a hairy ride.” He pressed the button and the big engine burbled into life.

  *

  CALLI GROANED AS SERRANO GROUND the bones in her wrist together. Any more pressure and he would snap her wrist or pull her shoulder out of joint. Her shoulder was on fire.

  It made the cold touch of the gun against her temple seem insignificant.

  “You have some use, yet,” Serrano breathed in her ear. Sour breath fanned her cheek. She wrinkled her nose. “We will take a walk, you and I. You will talk to Peña and tell him and his men to return to Freonegro pass.”

  Calli’s heart leapt. “They’ve left the pass? They’re coming to the city…” she breathed.

  The gun tapped her temple. “Silence.”

  Calli rolled her eyes to the right. She could just see Serrano from the edge of her vision. “I can talk to Duardo. It won’t change his mind.”

  “You’re leverage enough even for him. Peña runs on sentiment. It’s what kept him a junior officer for so many years. He couldn’t shrug off being a nice person. He’ll stop if he sees where my pistol is resting right now.”

  “Peña isn’t the one you should worry about,” Nick said. He was leaning against the door into the bedroom. Behind him, Maria Roldán sorted thr
ough a closet, holding up shirts and pants against her figure, for she wore nothing but a bra and panties. There were dark bruises around her wrists and ankles and more on her torso, yet she was smiling as she worked.

  “You!” Serrano grated. He hauled Calli around so she was facing Nick and shielding Serrano.

  Nick straightened, his arms dropping to his sides. “I didn’t stop when you told me to, Serrano. When you took Calli, you did exactly the right thing to make sure I would never stop. Not even now.”

  “I have a gun against her head, you fool!” Serrano shouted.

  “I’m not stopping,” Nick repeated. He took a step forward.

  Serrano backed up, dragging Calli with him. “You fucking Escobedoes! You are a blight on the face of the earth. Look at you! I only ever wanted Vistaria out of the hands of your family—what is so unreasonable about that?”

  “We don’t have time for that conversation,” Nick assured him. He took another step forward, which brought him to the corner of the control desk. Serrano hedged backward a pace, too.

  “A military junta—who really believed it?” Serrano said. “You keep a mask of mercy and democracy in place, but this country has always been a monarchy, with you Escobedoes siphoning up everything the peons created. Royalty by any other name! I want Vistaria to be a modern country! A fair country!”

  Nick shook his head. “That’s where you miscalculated, Serrano. Vistaria is too small to compete with the might of America or even Mexico. We have to do things our own way, which the Escobedoes have always understood. It can be a democracy, yes, but that democracy must have a single voice directing it—someone who understands how this country works and can guide it without mis-steps, for we are too small to survive mistakes.” He took another step. “You don’t know how it works. You don’t understand Vistaria at all and you have made far, far too many mistakes.”

  Serrano shivered. The gun wavered.

  Calli kept her gaze on Nick, her heart thudding.

  He took another step. “Calli.”

  She rammed her hand up, her palm flat, knocking Serrano’s elbow up into the air. The gun flew up out of his useless fingers, for she had impacted the nerve center in his elbow. She heard the gun clatter against a wall. She was already moving. She pushed her feet against the back of the control desk, walked up the metal, then flipped herself in the air so the pressure was removed from her wrist and shoulder.

  Serrano’s grip was already loosening in shock. She pulled her wrist out of his fingers.

  Serrano didn’t notice. He was scrabbling for the gun.

  Nick kicked it out of the way and it skidded through the open doorway behind him. Maria Roldán bent and picked it up and hefted it.

  Calli ducked out of the way, leaving the path clear for Nick.

  He came at Serrano with his hands out.

  Calli watched Nick’s hands close around Serrano’s throat. She might have worried about the weight differential for Serrano was a large and heavy man. Only Nick was strong and months of deprivation, heart-ache and fury drove him.

  She even felt sorry for Serrano. Not much, but enough to pity him. He didn’t understand what he had unleashed.

  Roldán came to the door and watched Nick and Serrano struggle with as much interest as Calli. The gun was still in her hand.

  “Give it to me,” Calli told her.

  Roldán tossed the gun to her.

  Calli checked the load, then pointed it at Serrano’s head and waited to see if she was needed.

  While Serrano gripped Nick’s wrists and tried to prize them away, Nick worked one hand, inching it up Serrano’s pudgy throat, then over his chin.

  Calli’s heart raced. She knew what Nick wanted to do.

  His other hand stretched for the back of Serrano’s neck. Nick’s arms worked hard as he fought against Serrano’s grip on his wrists. He strained, until his fingers curled around Serrano’s neck.

  Nick looked the man in the eye. “Vistaria is better off without you.” He wrenched sideways, his shoulders flexing, his whole body twisting with the effort.

  A soft, wet crack sounded.

  Nick stepped back.

  Serrano toppled like a tree, onto his face. The whole room shuddered.

  The silence was broken only by Nick’s heavy breathing.

  “Wow,” Roldán said. “I never thought I’d ever hear myself say this, but I enjoyed that.”

  Calli threw herself into Nick’s arms. He trembled as hard as she.

  “Time, time,” he muttered, trying to untangle her.

  He pulled out his phone.

  0 hours, 13 minutes.

  “Oh, god…” Calli breathed.

  Roldán whirled back to the cupboard and yanked out a white business shirt and shoved her arms into it. “We can run. Mow down anything in the way. I’ll even shoot people.”

  Nick shook his head. “There’s not enough time.”

  “Nick…” Calli gripped his shirt. “There must be something…”

  Nick plucked the gun from Calli’s hand and ejected the clip, checked it, then slapped it back. “There is something. It’s a long shot.”

  “I don’t care. Anything is better than standing here waiting for zero hour!”

  He nodded and glanced at Roldán. “Did you mean what you said about shooting anything in your path?”

  She nodded. Nick handed her the gun, then picked up the Glock which Calli had left on the control panel and gave it to her. He bent and picked up the assault rifle propped in the corner behind the desk. “There’s a coal cellar. It’s steel-lined. It will buckle, but it might not break.”

  Might.

  “Let’s go,” Nick said.

  Calli opened the door and the three of them jumped over Serrano’s still body and ran like hell.

  *

  AS THE STEEP HILL UP to the Palace leveled out, they could see the Palace ahead. The Insurrecto resistance grew desperate. They sprayed bullets like bug repellant, not bothering to take aim. As a result, they hit almost nothing.

  The countdown on the phones had cleared out all the civilians normally crowded around the gates. Instead, the big circle in front of the gates was thick with Insurrecto gray uniforms. There were so many of them that when one fell, another took his place. They crouched behind the stone bowl of the fountain in the middle of the square and made a stand.

  Duardo and Aguado’s men had plenty of cover to hide behind while they kept the Insurrectos pinned down. Duardo dropped behind an antique Ford with current license tags and shiny whirling hub caps, to consider the situation. He pulled out his phone.

  0 hours, 8 minutes.

  “Jesus Mary,” he breathed. The two hours had flashed by.

  “Peña!”

  He lifted his head. Aguado, crouched down behind a current model Chevrolet, pointed to the wrought-iron fence surrounding the Palace grounds. On the far right, just before the fence took a sharp turn and headed for the back of the grounds, perhaps eighteen women were scaling the iron spears and clambering over the top.

  Aguado got to his feet and fired three quick, careful shots toward the Insurrectos to keep their heads down, then ran for the fence. He shouted at his men, who gathered around him and gave covering fire. Aguado and two others made steps for the women with their hands, helping them reach the top of the iron, then lifted them down as they crossed over the points at the top.

  One of them gripped Aguado’s arm, talking fast.

  Aguado pulled her behind the Chevrolet and beckoned to Duardo. The other women ran down the Avenue.

  Duardo rose and sprinted for the Chevrolet and dropped behind it with the woman and Aguado. The woman had dark bruises under her eyes.

  “You are General Peña?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “I saw Nick Escobedo in the Palace. He came for his wife.”

  Duardo’s gut clenched. “He’s in there?” He glanced at the stone façade of the Palace, with its shaded verandahs and the rotunda in the middle. “Still?�
��

  “They went for Maria Roldán. Calli knew where she was.” The woman glanced at Aguado.

  Aguado blew out his breath. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…he could be out by now, otherwise.”

  Duardo pulled out his phone.

  0 hours, 4 minutes.

  “We’re out of time, too, General,” he told Aguado and turned the phone so he could see it. “Tell your men to fall back,” Duardo added. “As far as they can in four minutes. My men and I will keep the Insurrectos contained, right here.”

  Aguado considered him. “I have heard all my life about the honor of Vistarians. I did not understand it until just now.”

  Duardo rolled his eyes. “Now who is being stupid? You just wasted twenty seconds. Move your ass, General, or do I have to give you an order as President?”

  Aguado grinned. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m staying right here. So are my men. If we leave now, the Insurrectos will escape ground zero. No offense, General, but there are not enough of you to contain the bastards. I’d rather watch the gray suits burn.” He checked the clip on his rifle.

  Duardo sighed. He glanced at the woman and jerked his head. “Go. We’ll cover you.”

  She nodded and lurched to her feet and ran. Duardo settled behind the corner of the Chevrolet and put his pistol on the ground in front of him, for when the rifle was out of ammunition. Then he got on with his work.

  *

  “CAPTAIN!” CHLOE CRIED, AS HER phone beeped.

  Parris spun around and held up her fist.

  Locke pushed up behind Chloe and held out Parris’ military-grade armored laptop, already open.

  Everyone gathered around.

  The view was of swiftly rolling green land, with the glint of buildings here and there. It was the view from the nose camera of the drone.

  Chloe’s gut tightened as the green diminished and more and more buildings came into view. The drone was almost over the city.

  The view shook, as if someone had bumped into the camera.

  “And it’s away,” Cristián breathed.

  From the bottom of the screen, a white contrail streaked across the sky, moving faster than the drone.