Royal Hues of Blue: Book One

by Greg Gotti

  “How many of you are there?” John demanded. “Ask him!”

  Williams did his best to translate the question, but the man just shrieked in terror. He was terrified beyond belief, that much was obvious just from the sound of his cries. Maria turned on her flashlight and shone it in the man’s face. John froze. It was just a boy; he couldn’t be older than 15 at most.

  “Oh, sweet heaven above… He’s just a kid,” John said.

  Williams looked the boy over. He wasn’t a soldier at all. He was wearing simple denim jeans and a brown pullover shirt. He had no weapons at all. His eyes were as big as quarters and were full of fear as John held the razor sharp blade of his large hunting knife to the boy’s throat. Maria saw his face and let out a gasp.

  “¿Qué estás haciendo aquí ?” she demanded. The boy remained frozen in terror as a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. Maria repeated her question, this time more forcefully, and the boy tried to answer. His voice stammered and trembled,

  “P,p,pe,pes…pesca!” he exclaimed as the tears began to flow freely.

  “What’d he say?” John asked.

  “He says he came out here to go fishing,” Williams said.

  “Are you kidding me?” John asked.

  “That’s what he said.”

  John looked up at Maria. She no longer held her shotgun at the ready; instead, she looked on in confusion as he kept his knife at the boy’s throat. He looked at Williams.

  “You know we can’t leave him alive,” Williams said. “He will run and tell whomever and we will have Ristas all over us.”

  “Él es sólo un niño!” Maria almost shouted at Williams.

  “Él es un chico que nos llevará matado!” Williams hissed back at her.

  “What are you saying?” John demanded. His head felt like it was spinning as the boy began crying in terror beneath him.

  “I told her she’s going to get us killed if she gets you to let him go! You gotta cut his throat if you want to live! They’ll kill us and do worse to your girlfriend before they finish with her!”

  “He’s just a kid!” John snapped.

  “He’s a liar! Nobody goes fishing out in the middle of nowhere at this time of night! He’s one of them! Cut his fragging throat, John! Do it!”

  “John, no!” Maria begged.

  “Do it!” shouted Williams. “Do it or we’re dead!”

  Nobody was even concerned about being too loud anymore. The whole situation was coming apart quickly. John knew Williams was following standard training for evasion over terrain, but what if this really was a kid who chose to go fishing at the wrong place at the wrong time? He heard Williams and Maria arguing in Rista or Spanish or whatever it was called. Everything he knew was quickly being turned upside down. John didn’t know what to believe anymore. He didn’t know what was true and what was a lie. John suddenly remembered his own son. He had been brave; he had fought for his people, and the Ristas had killed him. John now had one of their sons at the tip of his blade. What was it his grandfather used to say… an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? He felt his blood boil within him as he thought of his son. They had taken the joy of his life from him, and he hated them for it. He raised his knife high above him and saw Maria and Williams stop arguing. They stood frozen in place, watching as a battle raged within John unlike any he’d ever encountered before. He looked down at the boy and heard him scream as he brought the knife down suddenly. He buried it deep to the hilt in the ground next to the boy’s neck before he realized it was he who was screaming. He closed his mouth and breathed hard through his nose as he felt the tears come. The tears streamed down his face hot and salty, and John couldn’t stop them. From the day they’d taken his son, he’d wanted to kill Ristas as much as he’d ever wanted anything in his life. But he suddenly couldn’t kill this boy. When was enough going to be enough? When would it all end? It didn’t matter. John had killed to defend his people, but he was not a murderer. Tonight he had been faced with crossing a line to become something else. He had gone to the line but found he didn’t have it in him to cross it. John Wallace discovered there was still something pure and good within him. He embraced it and realized he would never be who he had been before coming here.

  John saw the angry disapproval in the eyes of Williams as Maria took his head into her arms and embraced him. She held him tightly for a few moments before letting go as he stood.

  “Tell him I could have killed him without a thought, but I didn’t. Tell him I did it for my son. Tell him he is alive because I love my son. If he honors that, he won’t tell anyone about us until the sun rises. Tell him.”

  Williams didn’t move. He stared back at John with a mixture of rage, fear and frustration that belied his feelings at having been thrust into this situation against his will. He hadn’t asked to have his aircraft fail and spit him out into this ongoing hell he knew simply as “the zones.” He was only following established military procedures and rules; rules he had played no part in making. He knew things would not go well for him if the Ristas captured him. He needed to avoid them at all costs, and one of the key rules of evasion behind enemy lines was not leaving witnesses to his presence behind alive to notify the enemy as to his position. Wallace had to know this as well; he HAD to. The Soona had to be less compassionate after years of never-ending war if anything. This Soona warrior knew the rules, but he wasn’t following them. He was willing to bet a year’s worth of bar tabs John would have killed the boy without much thought before the Rista woman had entered his life. He never took his eyes from John as he relayed his message in a broken Spanish. He finished and heard Maria exhale in relief before she cleared up any confusion the boy had with a calm, soothing voice. She tried to get him to stand, but the boy stayed where he was, frozen in fear. Maria urged him to get to his feet, offering him her hand. He tentatively took her hand, and she helped him to his feet. The boy stared at John and Williams, afraid to move.

  “Go,” John told him, raising his knife in the direction he figured the boy would have come from. The boy edged away carefully before quickening his pace and finally breaking into a full run. He disappeared into the darkness, and John re-sheathed his long knife with a long exhale.

  “I hope you didn’t just get us all killed,” Williams sneered; his voice dripping with condescension.

  “Me too,” John said. “Let’s go.”

  The Hermanito was not a particularly deep river, and it was no more than 60 feet across at its widest point. One could see where there had once been an asphalt road with several bridges connecting the opposing banks, but these were long gone. It was the same throughout the areas where the war had raged over the decades; the infrastructure built before The Fall had been mostly destroyed as a result of the constant warring between the Ristas and Soona. There was a vast network of what had once been highways running throughout the territory of both peoples, but now there were few passable roads. Virtually nothing remained of what had once been built out here in the disputed territory. There were great concrete structures that had fallen into disrepair and were now home to various people who had established group collectives. Most of the massive dams had long ago been destroyed; although, a few of them still stood. There had been an extended period of no electrical power throughout both the Rista and Soona territory many decades ago; even after the power was restored, most of the big cities had never recovered from the chaos of those years.

  John had been to several of the largest Soona cities in his lifetime. He was particularly fond of Mile High City and its excellent museum where there were so many amazing things. He and Vanessa had visited Mile High every chance they had, and they always made sure the museum was among their stops on each trip. John felt a stab at his heart as he thought of Vanessa, and he looked upward as they walked. The sky was awash in starlight as they moved away from the Hermanito as quickly as they could. He was a long way from Mile High City now. He was careful not to step in any of the large holes and cracks in what was left of the
old asphalt road they now travelled. John had wanted to avoid the roadways, but he knew they didn’t have the luxury of being overly cautious after all that had transpired. They were trading discretion for speed now as they headed for a point where they could cross the Arcangel. The Ristas had always kept the junction of the two rivers heavily guarded, so John figured their best chance at crossing undetected would be upriver, outside the web of their search for the missing pilot.

  John had taken the lead as they travelled this last leg of their journey before crossing into Soona territory. He was familiar with the general layout from planning his ill-fated mission. There were smaller trees lining the sides of what was left of the road, and John used these to provide cover from anyone who might be scanning the countryside from high ground. They moved at a brisk pace, not daring to use the flashlight even on its dimmest setting as they neared the banks of the Arcangel. John led them off the road when they were about a quarter of a mile from the river, and they crouched in the weeds and bushes as they surveyed the land between them and the Arcangel.

  “I don’t see anyone at all,” Williams whispered after they had scanned the area for two minutes or so.

  “There could always be someone hidden in some trees or bushes,” John answered as he continued to peer into the darkness, “but I don’t think we are going to see anyone. The river banks on both sides in this area are pretty rocky and the terrain isn’t passable except for on foot. The river moves fast here, and there are a lot of deep holes. It isn’t a place where anyone could cross with supplies or equipment, and the trees are too thick for moving any mass number of troops through. It isn’t an area where either side has to worry about the enemy launching an offensive, and there are better places for scouts to cross undetected. We shouldn’t have much trouble getting across.”

  Williams grinned and nodded his head. He translated John’s words for Maria, who nodded in understanding and gave him a quick smile before returning to scanning the terrain.

  “Once we’re across,” Williams began, “then what?”

  “Once we are in Soona territory, our journey gets a lot simpler. We are going to cross a spot where the trees hang out over the water. From there, we will have tree cover until we are past the patrol zone. Then we head for the poisoned lands.”

  “Poisoned lands?” Williams asked.

  “Yes, there is a ridge of mountains that overlooks a valley about 3 miles due north of where we cross. Nobody is allowed to go into that valley. You can’t get down the steep slopes of those mountains; at least people think it can’t be done. I know where a hidden trail is that leads safely down into the valley. I took a scouting party down in there once, and one of my men from that area showed me where it was. They always told us it was a place where the earth had been contaminated and people couldn’t go without becoming sick and dying.”

  “You don’t think it was though, do you?” Williams asked.

  “No, it never made sense to me until we drew our map in the dirt and you showed me where you planned to cross into America close to that rock tower. I know exactly where that tower is. I have seen it from afar. I just didn’t know what I was looking at. That “restricted zone” has got to be where the boundary between the zones and America. Remember that we are on the extreme northwestern edge of both the Rista and Soona nations. There has never really been any hard and fast border out here between the two peoples. I was never given permission to come hard down the Rista’s western flank the way I did when we made our huge push into their territory. My superiors always wanted me to stay on the north side of the river. I realized we could push south and surround them on three sides if I acted fast, so we attacked and won easily. It was only after I sent reports up the chain of command that the SSS came and screwed everything up. Once they arrived, nothing but bad things happened.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Williams asked, clearly puzzled by John’s words.

  “I’m saying that the Soona High Council has been lying to me for the whole of my life. They have been lying to everyone. For whatever reason, they tell us America is gone. They say the lands outside our borders contain something that kills humans. They tell us there are advanced nations out there; that’s who flies the machines far overhead, but they are separated from us by this toxic area that isn’t fit for human life. I am sure that is why nobody was ever allowed to go north of that ridge. It isn’t toxic or poisonous or even dangerous. It’s just America, and they don’t want us to know about it.” John’s voice was growing angry, and Maria placed a hand on his upper back and rubbed it up and down to calm him.

  “So you’re saying we can get to this ridge and down into the valley with no trouble? How do you know they won’t have someone guarding this hidden trail?” Williams asked.

  “Because they don’t know it’s there, remember? We never told anyone about it. Logan, that’s the guy who showed it to me, he didn’t want anyone to know about it. He only showed four of us, and he and the other three are dead now. The higher-ups think it is an impassable ridge, so they don’t have a reason to guard it. We get to that ridge, and we have a clear path to the American border. Once we are there, it is up to you to get us across.”

  Williams nodded his understanding.

  “Don’t have any worries about that,” Williams said with a grin. “You get us to the border, and I will get us across with no problems.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” John said. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Searchlights flooded the lake outside Maria’s house with bright light as a parachute was dragged from the water, much to the chagrin of High General Rodriguez as he stood smoking his pipe while he watched. The signal from the tracker in the ejection seat had been difficult to find due to the Soona still jamming the radio waves in the north, but they’d managed to pick it up just after nightfall and rushed up the mountain. They were searching the surrounding woods and the entire mountain but had found no sign of anyone. He turned and walked towards the house in disgust. He saw someone hurrying towards him from the direction of the road and saw it was Colonel Martinez. He glared at him as Martinez stopped and saluted him while trying to catch his breath.

  “Good evening, sir,” Martinez said, knowing there was nothing good about it.

  Rodriguez glared at him and waited a few seconds before returning his salute and walking into the house. Martinez followed him inside.

  “Well, colonel,” Rodriguez began as he sat in the large chair and gestured for Martinez to sit on the couch, “I see yet another RID operation has become a major fiasco.”

  “We still aren’t sure what happened, sir. The aircraft was supposed to land at our secret runway, but it never showed up. We were outside the jamming zone for the radios, so as soon as I received word it had crashed, I got here as fast as I could, sir.”

  “I was told this was all taken care of, Martinez. That jet was supposed to have no choice but to land there.”

  “Sir, our virus was designed to lead him off-course and begin shutting the aircraft down at a specific time; forcing him to land it at our airstrip. The system should have been telling him he was in American territory, so he’d have no reason to try to avoid landing there.”

  “So why didn’t he land there?”

  “Respectfully, sir… there is no way I can know that. We waited until daybreak for him to show up, but he never did. This afternoon, I got a call telling me about the crash. I drove nonstop until I got here, sir.”

  “This entire operation has been a disaster from the start,” the general began, “and it does not seem to be getting any better. The aircraft is destroyed and now, we have an American running loose in our land. And of all the places in the Rista Federation, he bails out and lands on this mountain.”

  Martinez felt a lump rising in his throat. The general was a very refined, highly educated man, but his legendary temper was already beginning to show. He listened as Rodriguez continued.

  “So a man ejects into darkness from his o
ut-of-control aircraft, ends up on this mountain, takes the time to sink the evidence of his presence in the lake and is now on the loose here along the Federation’s northern and western borders. Is that pretty accurate?”

  Martinez could feel the general’s anger rising. He knew better than to try to doubletalk his way through this one. The old man would see right through him.

  “Yes, sir…something along those lines,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s along those lines, is it? Well, then perhaps you can explain a few things to me. Why is there no sign of struggle in this house? Why is my grandfather’s rifle missing, along with my own? Why are there dirty dishes in the sink from a meal prepared within the last day? And last but not least, where the hell is my daughter?”

  The general shouted the last line, and Martinez cringed. He opened his mouth to speak, but the general cut him off.

  “If this pilot has my daughter and is forcing her to help him, he is already off the mountain. She knows this mountain almost as well as I do. She wouldn’t have much trouble evading our scouts up here. We will find this pilot somewhere in the surrounding hills. When we do, he had better pray we find my daughter unharmed.”

  “I will oversee the search personally, sir. I won’t fail you.”

  “Failing me is all you seem to do, Martinez! You failed to foresee Wallace’s attack, and he wiped out our entire forward army up here. You failed to kill or capture him when we had him trapped in an ambush. We live in fear of him showing up alive somewhere leading another attack against the Federation because we told everyone he was slain by the mighty Rista army. Do you know what a fiasco it would be if he turns up alive? Especially if he is raising the flag of the Soona over our land somewhere! No, I will oversee the search for this pilot myself. For all we know, he managed to make it across the Arcangel and is already beyond our reach. He may have gone west into the borderlands. It is not that far to our western border from here, and we both know what is on the other side. I am tired of the RID always screwing everything up. We could have marched into Mile High City two decades ago were it not for constant RID foul-ups. Don’t think I am unaware of the agents you embed in the regular army to keep tabs on things. Has it ever occurred to you I might have placed such agents within the RID to keep tabs on you?”