5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors

by Correll, Richard

  “Back off.” Maggie repeated with fire in her eyes. “I mean it.”

  “Jordan….” It was a female voice. It wasn’t pleading. It was more of a reminder to be sane.

  “Namóya.” (No!) Jordan muttered something Maggie barely could make out, the last word was: “Nohtáwiy.”

  “Jordan, stop.” The woman spoke again. Maggie kept eye contact with Jordan, the woman spoke again. “No one else needs to die.”

  “Back off.” Maggie whispered harshly. On a hunch she slowly withdrew the gun from his chin. In concert, the knife began to withdraw from her throat. He tried to let her fall to the pavement, but Maggie already had herself balanced, they were still inches from each other. She finally spoke: “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “We’re indigenous,” He replied defiantly. “We’ve always been here.”

  Maggie noticed out of the corner of her eye that the first woman had been wrestled to the ground by Roe and Gurpreet. Her eyes were black coals of rage. Footfalls from behind told Maggie the odds were in her favor now. She decided it was time to ease tensions.

  “Let her go.” Maggie nodded to Gurpreet. His large hands lifted the woman to her feet as she pulled her arm quickly from his grip. Her mouth drew up into an animal snarl as she looked at Maggie. Damn it, she swore the woman was going to spit.

  “You killed my father.” Jordan’s voice was hard as granite.

  “When?” Maggie looked away from the angry woman and matched his tone.

  “Just now,” The reply almost came out as one word.

  “You’re with them?” Maggie pointed at the half ton and the bodies that lay scattered in the sun shine.

  “Do we look like fuckin’ soldiers to you, white lady?” The angry woman spat out the words.

  “Phaedra!” It was that woman’s voice again. Maggie finally had a chance to get a good look at her. She was tall with long raven black hair and glittering, intelligent eyes. The lips were full, she stood proud.

  “When the fuck do you speak for us, Crystal?” The one called Phaedra retorted.

  “I don’t, Phaedra.” Crystal eyed her harshly. She nodded to the man beside Maggie. “Let Jordan speak.”

  “You killed my father.” Jordan repeated. His voice was earthier now, there were other emotions mixing in with his anger.

  “Show me.” Maggie nodded to him in reply.

  *

  His body was splayed on the pavement with his arms and legs at almost perfect angles. He appeared at a distance like a starfish washed ashore on a beach. As they came closer, Maggie could see two ruby blemishes across his chest. They were arranged in such a way that they almost seemed to be natural appendages to his form, like they had always been there.

  Maggie was standing a few feet away now. If he was Jordan’s father, he was a warrior against the tides of time. His shoulders were broad and strong, very much at home in carrying the weight of a burden or responsibility. Like many he had layered his clothing, the best way to deal with the elements if you could not afford a warm coat. The muscles of his face had already relaxed into a perfectly placid death mask. The valleys and contours of his skin still displayed the markings of a hard life endured with quiet dignity. If he were alive, Maggie was sure that he would wear these weathers of time with honor.

  “You killed him,” Someone said, perhaps it was the voice of Phaedra. Jordan slowly turned his back on Maggie and faced westward, his hands helplessly by his side.

  “I’m sorry….” Maggie couldn’t find anything else to say.

  “That is my father.” Jordan’s voice was contoured now at the edges with the storm of emotions inside of him. When he spoke again, the pointed edge of accusation had disappeared from his words. “You killed him.”

  How the hell did this happen? Maggie sighed slowly. She turned away from Jordan and faced eastward. The clues began to fall into place as Doan, Chevalier and Trenton began to join them. Their weapons were raised as they cautiously approached. Maggie waved her hand slowly up and down. It was an order, weapons at ease. There is no danger here, only regret.

  The mind always finds a pattern to things, even in the chaos of war. The pieces of painful logic began to place themselves together as Maggie’s eyes settled on the bullet riddled flatbed. She traced a straight line back to the column of eighteen wheeled behemoths that had now pulled closer. They seemed like a herd of mechanical elephants, packed closely together for protection. Maggie slowly turned toward the body in the road, it was a perfect line.

  They call it friendly fire. The words were almost ridiculous to her. Maggie’s attention returned to the shapes of the transport trucks. Standing upright in her position was Purdee. Her right hand was covering her mouth. She had already drawn the same conclusion Maggie had arrived at.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am.” The voice was Gurpreet. Maggie did not turn to him when he spoke. Her thoughts were wrapped up in guilt. “We need to get moving.”

  “Yes,” Maggie felt herself drawn back to pragmatism. She wanted to do something, anything that would make this better. The truth was harder to face. This was a Rubicon that could not be re-crossed.

  “We need to get you home,” Maggie turned slowly. Her eyes were lowered in shame. Jordan’s sensed the movement and began to pivot toward her as well.

  “I think we’ve had enough help from you for one day.” Jordan’s voice held no anger. It seemed to be a whisper of defiance as he drowned in a sea of despair. Maggie felt the twisting of the knife from the comment, she accepted it. It was, after all, justified.

  “I’m not leaving you out here.” Maggie’s voice took on a new firmness.

  “We don’t need your help.” It was Phaedra.

  “Yes, you do.” Maggie’s voice rose impatiently. She was feeling the alarm that begins in the nape of your neck and spreads throughout the body and becomes hypertension, hyper awareness. It was the survival instinct of every hunted animal. “You can’t carry his body back and protect yourselves at the same time.”

  Maggie paused and added: “They are everywhere, you know that.”

  “Miyoteh ka wisamiht awiyak.” Maggie automatically turned to the new voice in the conversation, it was Trenton. She had no idea what the words meant. The reaction to them was like a ray of light striking a sliver of glass. A rainbow of responses replied. Phaedra and a few behind her were clearly caught off guard. They tilted their heads in curiosity. But still, trust was withheld.

  Jordan eyed Trenton carefully for a moment, he appeared to be about to speak but thought better and exhaled slowly before letting his gaze drop and his thoughts turn inward. His eyes had redness around the edges that Maggie had not noticed before.

  Crystal nodded her head, after a pause she began to walk toward the transports. She avoided eye contact with anyone. Her footsteps were somber in the setting sun. Crystal was not walking the preferred path. But the only one that was available.

  “Kinana’skomitin, (Thank you)” she whispered to Trenton as they came close to one another. It was loud enough for Maggie to hear. As a captain Maggie was used to being in charge. But events seemed to be flowing by themselves now. Even if she didn’t understand the words being spoken, the body had a language all its own. Maggie lowered her head and let events continue by themselves, after a minute, she sensed Jordan walk past her toward the transports, others began to follow. Maggie turned and tagged along at a safe, carefully respectful distance.

  *

  “So, you’re trusting the whites now?” Jordan knew his whispered words were full of anger. He didn’t care. The world was boiling in hate, screaming for revenge.

  Namoya,” (No!)” Crystal spat back, louder than she should have. In response, a few heads behind her rose and eyed the conversation for a second. Finally, she replied in a lower tone. “They are the only option.”

  “They could be looking for our homes, waiting to kill us all.” Jordan wanted so desperately to argue.

  “They just fought the soldiers that have been killin
g us.” Crystal answered in a whisper that was harsh in the right places. “The enemy of my enemy might be useful.”

  “Not a friend?” Jordan chided her as they reached transport number five, the back door was open. It was a clear invitation to enter.

  “Namananitaw, (no way).” Crystal climbed up and turned toward Jordan. The white soldiers kept their distance, it was clear two separate groups would be making the journey. Perhaps that was the best thing to do right now.

  “Good, because they’re white soldiers,” as Jordan spoke his eyes were intense, burning coals. Crystal paused to let him continue. “You know they are nothing but fucking trouble.”

  Crystal paused to try and formulate an argument, a reply to his anger. Jordan was understandably in grief. Part of that was lashing out at the world. He had always done this. Crystal knew enough of him to accept that he needed his space. But, try as she might to smooth out the anger in his soul, Crystal kept arriving at one indestructible kernel of truth in the fires of Jordan’s hate.

  He was right……..

  *

  “Tanisi. (Hello),” Trenton nodded to Phaedra as he passed by her to check on the body. It had not moved, there would still be plenty of time to prepare it before re-animation. Still, he watched carefully for any kind of quiver.

  “So, you think you can impress me with a few words of Cree?” If Trenton had been looking at her he would have seen the sarcastic smile.

  “It’s my language,” Trenton turned to face her and then took a few steps away from the body. You always kept your eyes on the dead these days or you kept far away. “My Mother and Father taught it to me when I grew up on the rez.”

  Phaedra seemed taken aback for a minute by his reply. She pursed her lips and then spoke: “You don’t look rez, not in that uniform, anyway.”

  “It’s just a uniform.” Trenton decided not to waste his time playing games with her. He had to get started prepping the body. He knelt down carefully, concentrating hard on the face and fingers. That was usually where the twitching started.

  “Wicihan, (help me)” he spoke without taking his eyes from the body. There was a blur of motion behind him in reply.

  “I’ll do it!” The blade crashed quickly through the bodies’ left eye. Her knife worked through the socket from left to right and then up and down, there was a feral look on her face, her eyes flared in determination. “I’ll do it!”

  “Fuck!” He watched the mess grow and almost spatter on his uniform. Trenton had to lean back and ended up a few feet away. He stood up and walked away and over his shoulder spoke derisively. “Fine, do what you fuckin’ want.”

  He had barely made it to the first tractor trailer, Roe was writing something down in his driver’s seat and Gurpreet had taken Purdee’s place in the machine gun nest. Unfamiliar hands touched his shoulder.

  “Wait,” she whispered. He brushed her hands away and felt them again trying to get his attention. Before Trenton could come up with a second thought Phaedra was now in front of him, she held up her hands. “Wait, please.”

  “Why?” Trenton felt himself growing angry enough to show it.

  “Because, I didn’t mean it, that’s’ all.” Phaedra’s eyes were different now, they were almost vulnerable. “I promised him I would do that, that’s all. I promised him if he ever died I would make sure …..”

  Her voice broke off for a second, she swallowed hard. “I would make sure he would never come back like one of those….”

  Trenton watched her and listened, he thought of the moment such an oath was made between two people. It must have been a spiritual connection that helped carry her through the last few years. He had seen the way she had looked at Jordan. It must have been a special moment for his father to have entrusted her this way.

  “Kaya mato (don’t cry),“ He whispered.

  “Okay, I have to confess I don’t speak Cree,” her mouth which had been so strong was now an uneven, jumbled line. “What did you just say?”

  “I said you are a very strong and good person to have helped him like that.”

  “Wicihan?” She tried to remember the word he had spoken earlier. Phaedra badly mispronounced it, but it didn’t matter.

  “Of course I will,” he smiled.

  *

  It had taken half an hour to listen to Purdee sob and work through her emotions, a few times Maggie had thought to pull rank and order her to get it together. That’s not who you are, she kept telling herself. The door is always open, even out here.

  The best thing to do was listen, nod your head occasionally and then offer some words. Brett had always done that with her. He was the master of it. For a second, Maggie felt incomplete amid Purdee’s sorrow. Damn it, Brett what would you say right now?

  Maggie told Purdee to get some sleep and relieve Gurpreet in the crow’s nest in a few hours. The crow’s nest, Maggie liked the sound of that. She was going to ask Trenton for something to help her sleep but decided against it. This was a war zone.

  She checked in on Truck five and found her troops and her new passengers were in separate but equal corners. The one called Jordan stood as soon as she entered, he took a step forward. Was it in defiance or defense of his people? His face was implacable, unreadable.

  “Have you come to have us surrender our weapons?” He asked, Maggie tried to make out the meaning of his voice. It was a monotone, a void where emotion seemed to have no meaning.

  “Of course not,” Maggie met his eyes to try and bridge some sincerity between them. “Are you hungry?”

  Jordan paused, he seemed unsure of what to say. He appeared confused, caught between rebellious commentary and communication. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

  “We had something to eat earlier, but thank you.” Crystal spoke up. She was leaning against the wall of the transport trailer.

  “If you need anything, just ask.” Maggie nodded to Crystal and then to Jordan. His mouth had closed and he had settled into an observational mode. She made her way to two leather bags that lay side by side on the floor. Two separate people, two separate lives. Strange how Maggie could not tell which was which right now.

  Maggie was unsure how long she looked at the both of them. Do you say a prayer? She felt it strange for her to be the one trying to be noble. They were two more erased lives in world that was running out of fresh souls. Maggie listened to her breath and the heartbeat of the tractor trailer as it began to move. Damnit, this just makes me sick. She ran her fingers along one of the body bags before standing up and turning away.

  “You lost somebody today.” It was Jordan. His voice again was hard to read.

  “Yes,” Maggie whispered.

  “Did you know him well?” He seemed genuinely curious.

  “No, I wish I did.” She felt vulnerable and didn’t give a damn. “There never seems to be enough time to get to know the people you lose.”

  When Maggie looked up, Jordan was slowly nodding his head in sadness. The hooded eyes seemed to have peeled back to reveal emotion. He pursed his lips and lowered his head respectfully. She wanted to reach out and tell him it was all her fault. To apologize again and again, to just reach out to someone else in a moment of loss, instead she lowered her eyes and went to the ladder to climb up and get some fresh air. It just felt like nothing mattered.

  Maggie lay on her back and listened to the engine settle into the right gear. A man from the indigenous band had offered to be co-pilot with Roe and give them directions. The idea had seemed acceptable to both sides. Did she trust them? Maggie contemplated the thought as the sun slid toward the horizon. Why not? Did they trust us? Maggie couldn’t help but answer the question. Hell, no. Strange, every war gets a little more complicated when you’re on the ground, this one was no exception.

  Darkness began to take hold and the figures in the fields watching them pass began to fade with the light. A blond woman with a torn, ragged dress dropped her mouth open and screamed at the passing convoy, her mouth was impossibly verti
cal. The shoulders were tense from hate with slim arms and two tiny fists balled in rage at her sides. Maggie knew the image would appear again as a nightmare.

  The darkened canvas beckoned the stars to come out and play and they happily obeyed. A ribbon of borealis seemed as delicate as gossamer to the north. The green glow seemed hypnotic, Maggie was sure it was the wrong time of year for it but didn’t know. Points of light winked into existence as the night gathered itself before her. What would happen when we were all gone? The thought was like a whisper from a passing stranger. Would the stars burn out as well? The idea seemed curious. The last soul on earth succumbs to this gathering darkness, then, the curtain descends forever, a sable canopy to match the vanishing of recorded time.

  “Boy, things sure got fucked up today.” Maggie said aloud. The stars listened to her voice but had no answer.

  “Sorry ma’am?” Someone spoke behind her. Maggie sat up and turned her head. It was a silhouette against the horizon.

  “Who is that?” She demanded.

  “It’s me, Trenton, ma’am.” The medic stood implacably, awaiting orders. “Are you alright?”

  “Just getting my anger out,” Maggie sat up and waved him forward. “How are our guests?”

  “Healthier than I expected,” Trenton sat down cross legged before her at a respectful distance.

  “Really?”

  “They’re clean, teeth are strong.” Trenton was a shadow against the stars in the darkness. “They seem to be getting a good diet, not bad at all.”

  “Good,” Maggie glanced at the stars for a second and then had a memory flash from a few hours ago. “What language were you speaking earlier?”

  “Cree.”

  “Is that the language native Indians speak?” Maggie was at a loss for any knowledge in this area. The best way to learn is ask. Trenton had just become her expert.

  “We prefer the term indigenous.” Trenton spoke with a polite smile as the moon began to rise. “But, there are plenty of languages that we speak. Cree is just one of them.”

  “We?” Maggie’s head fell to one side. “You’re in……….indigenous?”