5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors

by Correll, Richard

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “We’d like you to wear this,” Frank nodded to Trenton and he unfurled a blanket. “I don’t want anyone over reacting when we get inside.”

  Trenton slipped the heavy blanket over her shoulders and Maggie gave him a nod as she pulled it closed. It smelled of farm life. Animals, humanity and hay, there was a tinge of shame that the very thing she was could cause such fear. Maggie tried to perceive the atmosphere among them. Aside from Jordan there was little hostility. His anger was understandable. She felt her ears burn at the thought. Wouldn’t you feel the same way?

  Damn right I would….they walked in through a side door. Clearly, her arrival was not going to be discussed openly.

  It was brilliant. Maggie found herself watching another way to survive. The floor of the barn was clean and empty. They were in the loft and it was a different story. It had been widened and re-enforced. Even if the walls of the barn were breached by hostiles, they could not climb up to the loft. Hay bales were scattered about like furniture. Maggie stood in the shadows while life played out in front of them in the middle of nowhere.

  Babies, my god, they have babies and children. Maggie felt her mouth inhale slowly at the sight. They were small, naked or in diapers. Tiny eyes of hope that were in the warmest part of the barn, there was a swirl of raven black as the one named Crystal swept a small form up in her arms and began dancing among the children and singing in Cree. Her voice rose in joy as the little face lit up at the sound of song. Crystal’s hair was like the skin of a beautiful racehorse. Supple, rich and full of reflection, others were now picking up the song. Maggie saw Jordan’s face suddenly display a warm flicker. Phaedra was nearby watching Crystal with an expression only another woman could pick up.

  Rivals……..

  “You have so many children.” Maggie remarked watching Phaedra cast her eyes toward Jordan. Okay, now we know what they’re fighting over. “How have you done this?”

  “The same way as always,” Phaedra piped in sarcastically. “Have you forgotten how to do it?”

  “Phaedra,” Frank chided her politely, as he turned to face her. She seemed unapologetic. Maggie eyed her for a second and pivoted her attention to Frank. Either the thought just struck him or he wanted to change the subject he asked: “You are not having children?”

  “Our birth rates are way down.” Maggie knew her voice sounded defeated.

  “Why?” Jordan’s tone was different now, hate was an exhausting emotion. It could only be sustained for so long.

  “People are wondering why we would have children in a world like this.” Maggie met his eyes sincerely.

  “Children are the future.” Jordan replied calmly and plainly, he was clearly aware Frank was watching him. “They give you a reason to keep fighting.”

  Maggie nodded and digested the thought. Crystal had started story time and the children were in a semi-circle, the very young ones curled up against those a few years older. The battery operated lights had benevolence to them, a warmth from within that made this part of the world feel like a small and precious sanctuary.

  *

  “I was sent here to ask you to join us in this fight.” Maggie eyes displayed a detachment to the message she was ordered to convey, it was 30 minutes since Jordan’s words and they still resonated inside her. They were in the tractor trailer now amongst boxes and crates. A small wooden desk had been bolted to the back of the trailers’ wall.

  “Judging by the tone of your voice,” Frank replied with a slight note of connivance and understanding. “You already know that the answer is no.”

  “Yes, I do.” Maggie seated herself on a wooden crate, her hands interlaced on her knees and there was a thoughtful second of understanding before she spoke again. “I want to suggest something else.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’d like to leave this trailer here with the supplies and that radio.” Maggie pointed to the wooden desk. “Call us every once in a while.”

  “Call you?” Frank wanted to let Maggie make her case. The tactic would buy him time.

  “If you need anything, if those other soldiers show up or you see them,” Maggie’s hands were in the form of a church steeple now. Her lips felt dry and she continued. “Just stay in touch, okay?”

  “If I say no,” Frank kept a smile on his face. Affability could be so disarming in negotiation. “You take these supplies with you and leave?”

  “No,” Maggie looked up and didn’t waver or blink. “Those are yours. You keep them, we’re just talking here. We are not dealing.”

  “Fair enough, thank you.” Frank nodded and the smile seemed broader. Then, he crossed his arms and asked, “what do you require from us for this ……..cordiality?”

  “If someone runs into mechanical trouble, is low on fuel or needs help, we’d like you to be there.” Maggie replied in a very slow pace. Let there be no misunderstandings. “If you see something we should know about, large packs of hostiles or if the enemy shows up, you know what I am talking about. We’d just appreciate an extra set of eyes out here, that’s all.”

  “Fair enough,” Frank nodded and the arms uncrossed from his chest. “But I need to make something very clear, Captain.”

  “Yes sir,”

  “We will not take sides.” His head angled slightly. Perhaps it was his way of punctuating an important issue. “We will provide assistance and sanctuary. But we will not attack unless attacked first.”

  “Of course, sir,” Maggie nodded her understanding. Someone is a little tired of fighting other people’s wars. A passing curiosity made her change the subject. “How the hell are you surviving out here?”

  “One day at time, one challenge at a time,” Frank paused for a minute, before dropping the hint. “We feed one mouth at a time.”

  “Much of this is food.” Maggie looked around the trailer, “Canned soup, vegetables, MRE’s and also a few weapons and ammunition.”

  “Good, thank you.”

  “Have you thought about retrieving weapons and ammunition from the battlefield?” Maggie suggested as she leaned back on the box and rested her back against the wall,

  “We can’t get near the place.” Frank’s reply was serious. “You killed a lot of the enemy. That attracts those things.”

  “They are still around?” Maggie suppressed a satisfied smile that he had referred to them as the enemy.

  “Hundreds, maybe a few thousand,” Frank did not hide his relief at their defeat or his admiration of the event. He finished by adding: “The road is blocked with wreckage going west, eastbound seems okay, though.”

  “I appreciate the heads up, I will be heading that way.” Maggie nodded her thanks.

  “What about Mr. Trenton?” Frank was taking the cue that they may be wrapping up and began to turn toward the large trailer doors. “Will he be staying?”

  “I will ask him,” Maggie began to stand up and stretched out the kinks in her back. “He volunteered for this, I think he might, I hope he’s helped.”

  “He has.” Frank replied with a smile that seemed genuine. Well at least there was that. Maggie found something to pin her hopes on.

  *

  Godspeed, Maggie Hunter……..

  Davidson was walking down a hallway, illuminated by strips of fluorescent light suspended from the ceiling. The walls were pristine, scrubbed clean. Unlike the people who worked here, he included himself in that crass observation.

  You really did it, didn’t you? He felt himself get angry. You sent her out there to fight what was really your battle. You know who Shadowman is. He nodded to a salute from a guard who opened the door for him. A few heads turned and noted his arrival. Tom inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Tom, his friend who had practically had him figured out back in Ottawa. Davidson gave him a grim smile as he settled into the surroundings.

  What did you do back in Ottawa? Did you admit to it like a man? Of course not, you assembled some hollow indignation that someone would dare
to question you. God, he suddenly felt a sour taste in his mouth.

  But, what would happen if you fingered Shadowman?

  They would ask you how you knew. Then the proverbial genie would be out of the bottle. Davidson felt that eyes could be on him now. That was silly of course. No one knew, just you. That feeling you have right now. That uneasiness and discomfort is coming from someplace a little closer to home. Congratulations, he accepted the pyrrhic victory, you have a conscious.

  “Captain Hunter is standing by, sir.” An aide stepped toward the phone in front of him on the desk.

  “Go ahead,” Davidson nodded to the young man who reached for the speaker phone button with one smooth motion. Godspeed Maggie Hunter, it was a prayer and penance at the same time.

  “Captain Hunter? It’s Tom Roberts.” Even in the most dire of circumstances he sounded like he was in a polite bridge game. How do people in government do that?

  “Hello sir,” Maggie’s voice was correct and professional.

  “What is our situation, Captain?” Davidson kept his voice as affable as he could. There was a stain of regret for his harshness with Hunter earlier regarding the friendly fire incident. Damn, she had just opened up Western Canada and you tore her apart in front of these people. He wanted to take that back.

  “I’ve sent the balance of our platoon ahead to Timmins to make sure the road is still open, sir.” Maggie started her report.

  “Is the road still open?” A nervous voice from the back asked.

  “Yes sir, we haven’t seen anything more of them.” Maggie replied, clearly she had figured out all questions were directed at her.

  “Good.” Davidson paused and felt the need to add: “Well done, Captain.”

  “Thank you, sir…..”

  “Maggie. It’s Tom, again.” Davidson did not like it when Tom called her by name. It was a military versus civilian protocol. He left it at that as Roberts continued. “Do we have an ally with the indigenous band?”

  “No sir, we do not.” Maggie replied quickly. “However, it does not mean we don’t have a relationship with them.”

  “Can you be more specific?” Tom’s hand slowly rose to his chin. He pinched it slightly while listening.

  “They want to act like Switzerland in this conflict, sir.” Maggie was trying to take an entire conversation and compress it into a few words. “However, they are Switzerland with teeth.”

  “I need you to explain that more carefully, Captain.” Davidson tried not to make it sound like an order.

  “Of course sir,” Maggie was referring to notes. She knew they heard the sheet of paper turn over through the speaker phone. “They were very specific about their position. One, they would not participate in any offensive operations against our enemy.”

  Damn, Davidson said to himself. He withheld full judgment as Maggie continued.

  “But, if they were attacked they would return fire and defend themselves and their territory.” Maggie started up again.

  “Territory?” The voice from the back spoke up. “Captain, did you promise them any territory?”

  “No sir, I did not.” Maggie replied to the outburst calmly. “These are their words, not mine.”

  “Then what is their territory?” The voice continued to push the point.

  “I believe that is an area around their reserve, sir.” Maggie answered the question patiently. “Right now, there is very little we can do about what territory they call their own.”

  “Perhaps this is something we can be more specific about a few years from now.” Tom suggested. He knew Maggie had a point, if they wanted half of Saskatchewan, they could probably take it.

  “Agreed,” Davidson seconded the motion. “Continue Captain. You said something about Switzerland with teeth.”

  “Yes sir, I was just getting to that” Maggie acknowledged. “They have agreed to also render assistance to and defend any and all of our people as well.” Heads nodded around the room, there was something to grow on here. “They also promise to keep an eye out for any more marauders and large packs of hostiles.”

  “Good,” Tom nodded his head after glancing back to his colleagues. He then asked the loaded question, “Can we trust them?”

  “If we keep up our side of the bargain, we can.” Maggie’s sincerity was very clear, even 800 miles away.

  “Should we send a liaison officer?” A woman spoke from the back. For a second Maggie thought it was Madame Harris but it was a false alarm.

  “Mr. Trenton is our medic, ma’am.” Maggie fielded the question. “They are glad to have him and he has volunteered to stay.”

  “I was thinking of other officers to manage our supplies that we send to them.” She pressed her point home, Maggie paused.

  “Captain, you are free to give your opinion. “ Davidson spoke up after an uncomfortable silence.

  “I think we need to leave them alone, ma’am.” Maggie responded after taking a deep breath. “As I have said previously, there is a lot of water under the bridge out here.”

  “Yes, there is.” Tom spoke slowly and emphatically to no one in particular. He was remembering the stacks of ignored land claims and lawsuits in the department of Indigenous Affairs. Overworked and underfunded, the officials struggled to keep up with a system that served no one and spread a thick layer of discontent.

  “For now, they are our eyes out in this region, ma’am.” Maggie paused before adding. “They are a good set of eyes.”

  “So, what’s next, Maggie?” Tom crossed his arms.

  “We leave the trailer behind with the radio and the solar batteries with the supplies, sir.” Maggie was wrapping things up now. “The trailer can also be used for refuge in case hostiles show up in large numbers, they really appreciated that.”

  “Good for them,” someone whispered sarcastically.

  “That actually brings me to one more point, sir.” Maggie had clearly remembered another detail.

  “Go ahead, Captain.” Davidson gave his approval.

  “Sir, they showed me one of their daycare facilities.” Davidson could hear the smile on Maggie’s face. No, it was more than that, it was hope. “They are having a lot of babies, sir.”

  “Really?” It was Tom reacting in surprise.

  “Yes sir,” Maggie concluded. “They’re doing okay out here.”

  Davidson thanked Maggie and concluded the phone call. It started as a feeling but he tried to stop the thought from going anywhere further. It was not spoken but barely visible on a few faces. Okay, they were having children. They were surviving. It was good news for a change.

  Not everyone seemed to feel that way.

  *

  There he was, staring into space. It was not an unusual sight. But it was always at this time of night. The sentries were inside now. There was no point in exposing anyone to the danger of the darkness. They could see very well from inside. The glow was getting feeble from their light source. One of the women who took care of the children had suggested the idea. It was a great way to lull the little ones to sleep. Their eyes would grow heavy and somehow they seemed so innocent and wonderful at this time of the day. If you watched carefully enough it all filled you with resolve and it brought a sense of justification to the chores of tomorrow.

  Frank had watched Jordan grow slowly at first. Then at the age of fifteen he shot up like goldenrod on a summer day. Did he get into trouble? Of course he did. Young men do that. At least until they find a purpose in life. Jordan’s arrived in his seventeenth year. The first few figures that had come ambling through the fields, it was strange how everyone seemed to know something had changed. Frank remembered how his first impression that this was larger than a local event was when a few television stations suddenly blinked out, cell phone coverage evaporated. Those who went driving to find an active signal to call for help never returned. Armageddon arrived in bits and pieces. It was far from biblical, more like a slow, gathering tide of tears.

  Now Jordan sat in a corner deep in thought at
the age of twenty two. Trouble can make you grow up that way. Responsibilities create a fight or flight emotion, so many ran away. Then there were others like Crystal who returned from University to help. Then there were those like Phaedra, not from here but appearing on our doorstep. Most of them didn’t last. But Phaedra………well. That was another story.

  “You seem pensive,” Frank only spoke when Jordan looked up and saw him approaching, with a smile he added: “well, more pensive than usual.”

  Jordan gave a sad reflective look while Frank found a place to settle in beside him. It was strange to see him on his own now.

  “How are you feeling?” Frank finally leaned forward and asked.

  “I’m good,” Jordan’s eyes were sparks of intensity. He seemed to concentrate for a moment before continuing, “I was just thinking that my father and I were never really close.”

  “Really?” Frank’s intonation treated the observation as something new. Truth was, Jordan was right.

  “I just felt there was a gap between us,” Jordan was feeling the need to articulate. “It just felt like the last few years. We drifted apart. He kind of grew bored with having a son, I guess.”

  “I can’t imagine how anyone could be bored with something like that.” Frank observed quietly. He kept the conversation going, “Do you miss him?”

  “I’m not sure.” Jordan looked away for a second as his tone grew distant. “I just don’t feel anything right now.”

  “You were angry this afternoon.” Frank offered, getting Jordan to relate was like fishing. Offer a bit of bait into the water. See if he can bring himself back.

  “I swear I wanted to kill her.” Jordan looked up and took an angry breath. “I wanted to kill them all.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Frank met his eyes and listened to the rage in his voice.

  “I hate them.” Jordan had his teeth flash in the glow of the lanterns for a few seconds, his voice stayed low and lean like a wolf preparing to fight.

  “Who, The new soldiers or the ones we have been fighting?”

  “Both.” Jordan answered tersely. He looked away to control himself.