Royal Hues of Blue: Book One

by Greg Gotti

  There was a sudden eruption of noise just to the right of where they were, and Maria swung the rifle in that direction and brought the stock up to her shoulder. John had no weapon, and felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through him just as the largest bear he had ever seen stepped out of a cluster of trees. It rose to its hind legs and froze when it saw them. They were about 50 feet from the bear and he knew there was no outrunning it. Maria kept the rifle trained on the animal, and he wondered if she would wait for it to come closer before firing. He wondered if he should take the rifle from her; after all he was a trained marksman while she was just a hillside dweller who kept chickens. She kept the rifle trained on the bear, staying perfectly motionless as the bear studied them for what seemed like an eternity before the bear let out a grunt and returned its front legs to the ground and ambled off away from them. He realized he had been holding his breath and let it out with a loud exhalation of relief just as she did the same. They looked at each other, and began to laugh as relief washed over them. She looked at him surprised for just an instant before breaking into laughter herself. Their laughter became a laughing fit as they released their tension into the morning air like two lunatics alone in the countryside. They laughed until tears streamed down their faces and John leaned back against a tree. He wiped his cheeks as Maria gently laid the rifle down and sat beside him mimicking his resting pose. She let out a long sigh of relief and turned her face upward to see the rapidly brightening sky visible here in there through breaks in the treetops.

  “Man, that was intense,” John said as he gently shook his head side to side.

  “Que fue un gran oso,” Maria replied as she wiped tears of laughter from her cheeks.

  She turned to him. His red hair hung in his face, and she brushed it away to reveal the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Most of the men she knew had brown eyes, but his were a royal hue of blue. Something about the way he looked at her stirred up feelings deep within her. Without realizing what she was doing, she kept her hand on his cheek and brought her lips to meet his. He froze as he felt the warmth of her kiss fill him with something he had not felt in many years. He didn’t pull away; even though he knew he should. He brought his hands to her head and kissed her back. He stopped thinking about it being forbidden. He stopped thinking about his wife’s passing two years ago. He stopped thinking at all as she kissed him deeply, and he responded in kind. Somewhere in the trees above them, a new bird joined the morning chorus as the sun began to peek over the eastern mountains.

  Diego Fuentes was pissed. He sat studying a map in the passenger seat of his jeep while his driver sped him off to the eastern front. He had been pulled off his manhunt for Wallace and ordered to leave immediately for a classified mission in the east. He had wanted to argue, but he knew better than to make waves with the people responsible for deciding who got promoted. Fuentes was nothing if he wasn’t ambitious. He had been told Wallace was being classified as dead, and he was the mission leader who’d taken him down. They had told him this expecting him to be happy, and he had pretended to warmly accept his commander’s praise. His name would be on the front page of every newspaper, even if his picture could not be printed for obvious reasons. Rodriguez was the national hero of course. Fuentes was sure it would be the High General who would be credited for crafting the strategy that led to Wallace’s defeat; even though he’d had nothing to do with it. That didn’t bother him at all. It would be written that it had been Diego Fuentes of the prestigious Fuentes family of Hidalgo who had personally led the mission, and that suited him just fine.

  It wasn’t his impending fame that had him angry. The people needed heroes to keep their support for the war high, and he was more than happy to be one. He was peeved that Wallace had somehow managed to evade him. Even if he was dead, which high command was certain of, he had still found one last victory in death. He was the man who could not be captured or killed. Fuentes didn’t want it to be a fall from some cliff that had claimed the life of the Federation’s greatest enemy. He wanted it to be he who found him. He wanted a lock of his red hair to mount on his wall. He didn’t care that the public wouldn’t know it was some lowly hill-dweller who found his body. He would know. Wallace was to be his greatest prize, and he wanted to claim his prize rather than rushing off to the eastern front where he could expect to be running missions for the next year. He frowned as he went over the maps of the Texas front. He knew his way around the canyons well, but he didn’t like them. He took one last look back at the woods and then found his sunglasses in the console as the jeep sped eastward towards the rising sun.

  Chapter Five

  John sat on the small dock where Maria kept her rowboat and watched the late-afternoon clouds go by. His ribs were still tender but no longer ached, and he was beginning to feel like himself again. He had been here over a month now and had extensively explored the mountain. One could only ascend from the base a short distance before encountering tall, sheer walls of rock that made it all but impossible to go any higher without rock-climbing equipment. There was really only one side of the mountain that allowed people to travel higher than a short distance, and there was a dirt road there. The road had been washed away in places, so it was only navigable by jeep to a certain point, after which one had to travel on foot to go any farther. An old woman lived alone near the end of the road, and Maria would visit with her on most days. Aside from this one woman, Maria appeared to have the entire mountain to herself. John supposed it had once been the home of someone very wealthy before The Fall; someone rich and powerful enough to own an entire mountain. He wondered what those days had been like. The schools had only taught him it was an age of advanced technology that brought extensive pain and suffering to people everywhere. That was why such technology could not be allowed now; to protect people from themselves. He knew it still existed. He saw the flying machines far overhead and he knew the highest government operatives used computers. He knew very little about such things. He was a field man. The land was his office, and he felt very much at home here on the mountain.

  The air was warm and pleasant as he relaxed by the lake. It was Sunday, and Maria was very insistent on doing no work on a Sunday. John had found her to be very observant of her faith, and he honored her wishes concerning these matters despite having no real religious beliefs of his own. He had decided one evening years ago as he had watched the sun go down and the incredible tapestry of stars appear there had to be a God. Vanessa had always insisted there was, and he found he agreed with her. He didn’t know or care much about religion, for religion was looked upon with severe disfavor by the state. John was a loyal servant of the Soona Nation. He believed in his government and its Ten High Precepts that provided the foundation for Soona society. That was all the faith John needed. If religion helped others to be better people, he thought that was a good thing. Religion seemed to be very important to Maria, and John had no issue with respecting that.

  She had left immediately after breakfast to visit with the old woman down the hill. She did this every Sunday; she made her visits after her work was done during the rest of the week. She had been gone all day, and John had spent the day exploring the woods. The entire mountain was covered with a thick tree canopy, which made it easy for John to walk around without fear of being spotted from nearby hills. The soil contained a lot of rocks; some were over 20 feet high. There were steep cliffs everywhere. Several little creeks drained into each other until one larger creek emptied into the lake where he sat. There were very few clearings on the mountain. Maria’s house sat in one, but it was surrounded by tall trees that blocked its view of the valley below. John had to climb up the hill a bit in order to be able to see the land to the north of the mountain. He could see trees and more trees with a few little glimpses of the valley floor where the roads travelled between the hills. He knew the river was a few miles to the north, but he couldn’t see it through the thick foliage. He felt as though he and Maria were living in a bubble; separated from the rest of the wor
ld and away from the cares and concerns of their never-ending war. He found himself wishing they could just stay here for the rest of their lives and forget about the world around them. He knew such thinking was treason, but he couldn’t find the will to shake it from his head.

  He had begun to wonder what the point of it all was anyways. The fighting had been going on for decades, and what had changed? Until he had led the great southward thrust, the border hadn’t changed much over the years. It had been attacks followed by counter-attacks that had only served to take lives rather than territory. He had expected the High Council to take advantage of his gains by rushing fresh troops and supplies to him, but there had been only delays and orders to wait for new scouting reports. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think the council didn’t want to win the war. He felt discouraged and frustrated. He had been on the verge of breaking the Ristas and marching to their capital until the SSS had gotten involved. He almost wished he could walk through the marble courtyard and into the great headquarters of the High Council, stand beneath the great dome and tell them to fight their own war. If they thought they knew how to fight it better than he did, why hadn’t they managed to do a thing over the past few decades? He was almost afraid to even think such thoughts. The state didn’t tolerate dissent, but he wasn’t within the borders of the state; was he? He suddenly realized this was the first time he could remember feeling free to think such thoughts, and it made him smile. He liked being out here away from all the rules and rituals. He felt… free.

  John uncrossed his legs and stretched as he stood up. He glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see Maria standing in the yard smiling as she watched him in amusement. He grinned sheepishly as he approached her. He noticed her smile did not fade as he drew near, and he stopped just in front of her. They stood smiling at each other in silence, and he felt as though the air between them was charged with electricity. He thought back to the morning she had kissed him. It had only happened that one time, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since. He looked into her beautiful brown eyes as the breeze rustled through her dark hair. Her smile disappeared as she held his gaze. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything, but he wasn’t sure how she would react. He tried to will his arm to rise from his side and reach for her, but it would not obey him. He felt the moment slipping away, and it was gone as suddenly as it had come. He noticed she was holding a loaf of fresh bread, and he pointed to it as he forced another smile.

  “That smells wonderful,” he offered.

  She turned without a word and walked to the house, leaving him standing by the lake wondering what he’d done. He kicked at the dirt and turned back to the lake. He thought of Vanessa and how he had held her hand as she lay on her deathbed. In those last minutes, she had uttered only one word over and over… love. She had looked into his eyes and answered everything he had said with that same word until she breathed her last and slipped away. Love… he wasn’t sure he even knew what it was anymore. Everyone he loved was gone. His wife, his son, his parents and grandparents… he had nothing left but the war. It was in that moment that John Wallace realized his life had become about death. Nothing had changed as a result of his efforts. He had brought death to tens of thousands and had nothing to show for it. The war had apparently returned to a stalemate. He had led 200 of his best soldiers into a trap that cost them their lives. Schwarz had obviously betrayed him; leaving him there to die. He felt his anger run hot as he thought of Schwarz. He wanted to choke the life from his old friend and look into his eyes as he repaid him for his betrayal. More death, he suddenly realized. What would it even mean?

  There was a touch on his shoulder, and he turned around to find Maria standing behind him. She grabbed him and kissed him. He responded. He pulled her close and she melted into him as he kissed her with a passion that surprised even him. Something about this small woman inspired such fire within him. Being with her made him want to live! He didn’t think about death or war or killing here with her. He thought about sunrises. He thought about goodness and hope. He thought about the smell of bacon filling his nostrils as he patiently waited for her to finish praying. She stopped and looked into his eyes; transfixed by the deep blueness of them. She smiled sweetly, and he felt a surge of joy rush through him. He put his hand in the midst of her hair and gently pulled her lips to his as she tilted her chin upward to receive him.

  John realized he no longer knew what he had spent his life fighting for. He had been taught to hate the Ristas and trained to kill them. He had been taught they were a little less than the Soona. They were inhuman savages who were unworthy of mercy after their many massacres of his people. This was taught in the schools beginning in the very first year the little ones began attending classes. He had thought nothing of killing them as he drove them out of his people’s land. Now, here was one of them waking something within him that he thought had died with Vanessa; something beautiful and warm. It felt like something that made life worth living again. He felt the warm breeze blow over them as they kissed each other there high above where the river to the north separated their two peoples. He didn’t understand what was going on, and he didn’t need to. Here with Maria, concealed within the green tapestry of leaves and pine needles and under a deep blue sky, John felt something begin to change within him. He didn’t fight it. She was Rista; he was Soona. Loving her was treason and punishable by death. He didn’t care. The war didn’t matter here on her mountain with her. The world didn’t exist here. It was just the two of them here together, and together they were something beautiful.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon walking hand in hand through the woods. They stopped to kiss once more at a spot a ways up the mountain overlooking the lake and clearing where her house was. The sun was sinking slowly in the west and had turned a gentle, hazy orange. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw something he couldn’t fully grasp behind her sweet gaze. There was something vulnerable there; something damaged, yet still hopeful. He felt his heart swell with something as he kissed her, and they stayed hand in hand as they descended the mountain and returned to the house. She made them dinner, and they sat on the back porch until all the stars had come out.

  Three nights later, John awoke with a start. He had been in a deep sleep, but he was instantly wide awake. He stayed completely still as he slowly opened his eyes. The house was completely dark, and only the faint glow of moonlight outside gave him any idea of where the windows were in the blackness of the living room. For about the 10th time since he had been at Maria’s, he wished she owned at least one dog. She was the only forest dweller he had ever known who did not possess at least two large canines. When he had tried to inquire about this, she had stuck her tongue out in displeasure while shaking her head. He didn’t own any himself, but they were excellent for sounding a warning when anyone or anything was nearby. He listened for a few minutes waiting to hear if anything was amiss, but he heard only the sound of crickets. He almost went back to sleep, but he could not shake the odd feeling that something was wrong. He finally decided to check the outside for his peace of mind and quietly got up and put on his shoes. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he grabbed the shotgun that Maria kept over the mantle. He cracked it open to ensure both barrels were loaded. Seeing they were, he went to the window and surveyed the outside. He could see virtually nothing in the darkness of the crescent moon. He frowned as he began to think himself silly for being overly cautious. There were all kinds of critters roaming the woods at night, and they certainly wouldn’t think anything of coming near the house to see what they could find. One had likely made a sound that his subconscious had registered; still, he figured there was no harm in being sure all was well.

  He did not bother to put on his shirt. He was just going to quickly put his mind at ease before going back to sleep. He eschewed the front door and went to the back where he knew the lighter door made no sound as it opened. He surveyed the landscape
but saw nothing. He quickly opened the door and closed it behind him as he slipped outside. He rounded the corner of the house, staying close to the wall so he would remain hidden in darkness to any potential onlookers. John knew very well how to move quickly and quietly, so he silently made his way around the house in short order. He was about to turn the final corner that would bring him back to the rear patio, when he suddenly froze. He heard voices. Somewhere in the blackness between the house and the woods, they had company. He dropped silently to one knee and gripped the shotgun as the approaching voices grew louder. He strained to hear what they were saying, but suddenly the crickets seemed like a 300-piece orchestra echoing in the night. He was aware of a wolf howling somewhere in the woods and realized he was experiencing sensory overload. His pulse raced, and he felt his hands gripping the shotgun much too tightly. He forced himself to relax just a bit and focused his attention in the direction of the unknown intruders. The moon was just a sliver, as the new moon had been just the night before. He could barely register the moving figures who were now almost to the house. He held his breath and listened intently to the approaching voices. He could make them out clearly enough to realize they were speaking Rista. John shifted his weight to his back leg as he knelt in the wet grass. The night was very warm, and he felt mosquitos biting his exposed flesh. He forced his mind to block this out as he focused on the men, who had now grown quiet, had reached the back door of the house.