False providence, p.39
False Providence, page 39
The bunks under the gutted-out warehouse that was once a super grocer were protected only by an ATLAS packaged tent and several security details that were manned in and around the huge parking lot.
At a distant glance it might have looked like a jamboree or the Labor Day picnics of old, old lawn lights being an old ghost of America’s past, I hardly knew her but I knew Glenn Wyatt and the lights made me miss him, so I turn away and sleep deep from the exhaustion. What feels like minutes later is the feeling of someone pawing at my shoulder and pushing down my arm.
My reflexes are quick on the defense and the Quaker that rouses me is shocked, in the bleariness of my sight I lean into his chest and slap him on the side.
“Never do that to a soldier in a vulnerable environment! We are trained to be on our guard even when it feels like we don’t have to be Ramon!! Do not.do that…Again!”
I scrunch up his shirt and look up with a frown before I fall back the crib, it wasn’t a bad sleep but not one hundred per cent comfortable.
“Three things for you this morning, breakfast, reinforcements and Dad” Ramon answered me with a greater deal of patience than I deserved but I needed that sweet lullaby of a voice and nothing further until I was fully awake at least.
“Your Father is here? But he’s the Colonel, he should have gone ahead to Lavinia” I mumble as I sink into that quicksand of needed rest though trying to keep one of my senses open for business.
“I spoke with him this morning, nothing official – more the worried Papa Bear really, he thinks that with Marr’s troops setting up in Blythe which should head north” Ramon stumbles on his words and it doesn’t occur to me to wonder why…
“My garrison is small Mister King, it could never take all the refugees we have, not to mention those coming I—”
I’m rather slow in my part of the conversation, I’m disinterested and wriggle away to my side to try and steal five more minutes.
But then it hits me like a burst of cold air and I shoot my eyes wide open and sit up very sharply. Almost afraid to ask the question I tilt my head in grave suspicion and a little dread.
“How far north is your Father thinking…Exactly?” I propose my query with a wary eye.
“Christy I’m just a messenger, I don’t know your history, your history is probably as long as Beowulf!”
I watch my brother shrug his lean medium-built shoulders; his neutrality makes him confused but it doesn’t make me any less irate.
“Ramon Franklin-King, how far are we traveling north?” I sneer as I step out of the makeshift bed, socks doing nothing to stunt the cold on my feet.
“Just under a thousand? Give or take?” He winces at me and with jabbering indignation I change into my fatigues.
Ramon takes a rail curtain and shifts it to the base of my bed where he stands and respectfully turns away from me.
I paw at my pants, these fatigues haven’t been worn since the day Wyatt died, I put them on knowing I am at war now and there will be no more smuggling operations, danger would creep beyond Antioch’s borders.
It was here at last; it was finally happening and again I feel small and wish for my father but I know he will never come back to me. I briefly indulge in the thought of a man that I never called by his real name and wish him well.
“You can tell your father that whoever wants to ride it out in Charlemagne or back at my encampment is more than welcome too because I’m staying there! The only way I’m going to Arbre Rouge is to drag me”
I rant on as I zip up my pants and pull over my stationery black sweater, my regulation boots are trickier as I’m too frustrated to do the laces properly.
“He said you’d be mad, it’s his prerogative Christobel, he is in charge now” The Colonel’s son sighs.
“We are transitioning – TRANSITIONING! Do you have any idea how long it took General Wyatt to convince the people that his leadership wasn’t a coup? Or worse, a military junta?? Now we’re putting another soldier in power? You go on and tell New Rome because I’m not!”
My laces tie by my third attempt as Ramon angrily throws back the plastic curtain.
“As of fifteen hundred hours yesterday afternoon we were attacked by a manned drone strike, not just in Blythe but Charlemagne and Calpurnia too and all of the smaller townships along the coast. We go to Arbre Rouge because as of right now Christy, we are fleeing for our lives! We’re at war, all other bets are off…For now” Ramon demanded, he nodded for an agreement so I exhale and relent ashamed but still a little angry.
He briefly rests his temple upon mine and taps at my shoulder encouragingly, like all brothers do and I feel a little less lonely than I did in the night and I am grateful to him.
I cringe and blush over an outburst prompted by a fear he knows nothing about, I smile in embarrassment and Ramon just gently laughs at me.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast”
He grins as we walk out of the gutted warehouse while I carry on adjusting my uniform for despite the storm of chaos within I had to act with utmost poise and respect, that was a soldier’s way.
…And despite my world being on the edge of oblivion I was still a soldier.
✽ ✽ ✽
The beverages are much warmer than last night’s offerings, I opt for the gentle caffeine in Hot Tea and a small yellow goo of scrambled eggs.
The much-needed sustenance distracts me from prying eyes beyond the canopy of the cafeteria tent and I don’t notice them until they are standing at my table. Shock and tremendous relief wash over his face and I wonder if I’m emulating the same joy, as restrained as it is.
A bruised and battered Donovan Lowry, wearing clerical garb that had seen better days was standing beside me in a lucid haze.
“You’re alive, you’re really alive – I…I worried for you…and the encampment? Were you there?” The Priest looked baffled, most likely because I looked far better than half the people sitting around me.
“I was on Mission, a ruse of sorts but that hardly matters now, I’m very glad you made it to another day, Damascus. God has plans for you I’m sure” I tease him and too late I realize it’s the most inappropriate thing I could have done to him. In the depths of my soul I am quietly reasoning why, it’s too dangerous for anything I want to be near me.
Still he is wounded and I glance at my brother reprimanding me with a scowl, he already can tell how personal this fairly small conversation was and it really wasn’t his place to witness such things.
The priest cared little about whoever and whatever was around us by suddenly kneeling beside me and leaning an arm on the table.
“My Church is outside Calpurnia, we were hit badly, the priest tasked with showing me my new role there is dead, I’ve traveled most of the night and the best thing I could ever find in the middle of all this wants to make fun of me?”
He whispers, his tone matters not as it’s still as devastating to me as shouting it from the rooftops.
We stare at each other for the longest time, both so hurt, both so cowardly in our feelings but I note him far braver than I for my Priest leans in ever so slightly and quietly demands.
“Call me by my name, you know what it is, you always have. Call-Me-By-My-Name” His voice waivers and tears etch in his eyes but they do not fall which is a blessing really.
“I never meant to…Sound cruel, loss seems to come so naturally to me and I wondered if I would be adding you to the list sooner or later. I’m sorry for what’s happened to you – It’s a damn good thing to see you Donovan”
I sigh deeply, trying to hold in my guilt and my tears and not doing a very good job of it.
I watch him close his eyes momentarily and again questions of love crop up but I must deny Aphrodite her day for the world is falling around me and I had work to do.
Ramon stands ups and shifts his chair and offers another to Donovan, he then goes about getting a plate and whatever food is left.
I follow the gesture by handing the refugee a cup of water and ascertain a wordless apology but holding his hands in mine that little bit longer.
He takes the cup and my guilt is reinforced as he gulps it down like the traumatized survivor he was. I suddenly notice a rag-tag group of teens that look awfully familiar.
“Aaron Ross? Good God, why aren’t you in Free Nation where it was safe?” I ask, startled to see the bedraggled lad.
“Lieutenant Hidalgo, ma’am – we had errands to run, educational supplies, training days and the like – We were here two days and then they bombed us” The teen replied, sounding just as surprised to see me.
“Twelve came along ma’am, twelve cadets, we scattered all over when the Colonel and Warrant Officer Murrow switched on the sirens. We haven’t seen them since” A girl interjected.
“Your name, cadet?” I command politely
“Abigail Pryce. Lieutenant Hidalgo – I came along with Autumn escort, I’m very grateful to be here, ma’am”
“An Antiochian cadet? Well, that hasn’t happened in a while, people usually want to disappear when they arrive here. Always afraid they’d get found out, are you afraid, cadet?” I query in my formal tone despite everything around me being anything but.
“No ma’am – My Mormon Father has nothing on a drone with grenades, I’m ready to be of service, Lieutenant” The lass stammered
Not once did it escape my attention that during the entire exchange the girl was addressing me on crutches, even attempted to salute. It was an endearing amusement I never knew I needed and yet there it was.
“See yourself settled, cadet – you are relieved for today, get yourself some food and rest, that goes for both of you” I nod and conclude the conversation with firm obligated gesture before I sit back down to eat.
“Yes Ma’am, thank you ma’am” The teens chortled before hobbling off to another breakfast line.
“Can we please eat in peace, please?” I whine with a mischievous smile, my company doesn’t reply they just simply dig in to their meals which is music to my ears. I feel the familiar buzz of sexual tension and I know he’s watching me.
It’s odd now that I find myself eased by it, the simple idea of having him near me was my prize, my comfort, my tangible journey’s end after such a horrendous few days. Despite reality being nothing and nowhere near Journey’s End for that would be in Arbre Rouge.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Lieutenant Hidalgo reporting for duty, Colonel” I salute my Commanding Officer in the confines of his Napoleonic office of one desk, one cabinet, one cot and a very large tent above us. I had to give it to them, ATLAS was a fierce force of logistical and humanitarian aid.
“You’re in one piece? Excellent” The Colonel quipped.
“Down to a good strategy I should have seen coming, sir” I remark dryly, evidently for Franklin-King, a little too dryly.
“I beg your pardon, soldier?” King snapped and he looked at me a face of cold, hard stone, for some crazy reason I forgot myself to the point my rebel heart thought I was the biblical Daniel with a dozing pride of lions.
“That is, I’m happy to be of use wherever I’m in need Colonel, Sir” I prattled nervously and still in my formal repose with a tight, straightened back, two legs apart and hands completely still behind my back.
“Remember where you are, Hidalgo” King warned with a careful pause and it’s nothing I don’t deserve, truth be told.
“Yes Sir, I will Sir” I answer swiftly and as deadpan as anything I can muster despite the insanity of the last day.
I watch him open a drawer and take out an A4-sized envelope with the ATLAS emblem on the top left corner. He takes out an array of black and white reconnaissance photographs.
“Would that be all…Colonel?” I ask to be relieved despite my bewilderment regarding the documents on his desk.
“No, not by any means Lieutenant – I am in need for you to show a little restraint in regards to what I’m about to show you. With your passions well known the council advised against it but I insisted because I know your Father taught you well and I know you wouldn’t just throw that away. Take a seat Miss Hidalgo” He waved a large Polaroid in his hand and laid it down before gesturing to the empty chair in front of me.
I do so in grave silence with wide concerned eyes, very slowly I gaze down upon the monochromic images of a charred road and a mangled piece of wreckage. On the bottom right I recognize the cupped hands surrounding a globe of the Earth to form an S.
It appeared to be the result of an ambush, but to whom exactly? I had fears but they were primal and had not much weight for rationale – at least that’s what I thought.
“A small convoy were making a high security escort to the North-Western borderlands, they were hoping to rendezvous with a criminal justice team sent by ATLAS, appointed by The Hague itself” King sounds weary and defeatist, I turn my head in partial denial over what he’s about to confess to me.
“They never arrived, forensic evidence suggests an I.E.D destroyed the vehicle, three survived, eight did not including the Assassin arrested on a murder charge” Jeremiah announced in a deep baritone.
Was I still stting down? The world went askew and I didn’t know where I was in it, I struggled to breathe and my vision pulsates along with the pounding drum of my heartbeat. But as I quietly promised,.
had to show the Colonel I was still the soldier General Wyatt trained me to be but I had to endure a near-fainting spell just to see it done.
“Magda leaves nothing to chance, nothing – If this is the end of the armistice, she’ll wipe us out, all of us and we can’t stop her, we can’t. If Arbre Rogue is where you suggest then Abre Rogue is where we’ll go, Colonel King”
I stumble to my feet and salute him with a shaking hand.
It’s clear he’s not finished with me but it’s more than I can take, I take my leave and walk out of the tent almost falling into Ramon’s arms.
“Christobelle?” He coos as no doubt he sees the blood drain from my face, I feel flushed and dizzy but I emit a ‘sorry’ and wander off and out of my C. O’s sight.
“I was expecting her to be angrier, bad memories come from Arbre Rogue, she handled it better than expected” The Colonel mused and he watched his son exhale sadly.
“The priest, the one she traveled to Orisha with, they crossed hairs, it left her raw but the poor man was traumatized” Ramon shrugged as he watched his fragile sister figure stumble away.
“As we all are son, as we all are” The Colonel digressed bitterly.
✽ ✽ ✽
In the morning sun a woman watches a young girl walk across the campsite looking fairly distressed. The observer wants to rush over and comfort her but she cannot and not, at least not yet.
The wolves that split the refugee’s family army have now regrouped and entered what used to be a place of safety, she heard rumors that the Child Soldier was raised in the province but Who’s to say whose child that was?
Plenty of children were orphaned or just lost to First Eagle Raids, militia groups that came out in droves wanting to finish what Craven had started. Some thought with the President gone, the right-wing rhetoric would wither away but instead it got worse, minorities were blamed for his shortcomings. Tax evasion was their fault, the public slipping of government intelligence was their fault, how Craven treated others. Was Their Fault
So little by little, some towns near the border were just downright dangerous – people were checked on constantly, then identification didn’t matter, then jobs were not their own anymore but prepared for somebody else. Tejano music was banned, no foreigner was permitted to speak their language in a public setting. The very last Day of The Dead was monitored and frowned upon.
Then the war started, taking many men and women to the battlefield, that’s when the religious right struck the worst blow by splitting families up, you were Legal only when they decided you were legal.
“Puedo ayudarte?” Can I help you? Spoke a Soldier, the Hispanic saw his face was bruise and peppered by pock marks left by some shrapnel, his Spanish wasn’t bad, a little hesitant however.
“A place to rest would be nice, my home was Chula Vista but I think New Romans renamed it Helios?” The woman had a slight accent but her American dialect was strong and eloquent in speech.
As a younger man Jonah found it a confusing rarity to hear the names the cities had prior to the war and the splitting of the Union.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to patronize, I hope my Spanish wasn’t too bad. There are beds in the warehouse, the Cantina tent is behind you – But we’re evacuating soon, they haven’t told me where yet but take all the recovery time you need” The soldier blushed in his awkwardness, the endearment of the moment relaxed the refugee somewhat.
“I’ve come a long way, I’m not afraid to trek a little farther, I’m…looking for someone but that can wait” The medium built woman was a natural beauty despite time tracing his mark on her face and eyes.
Her hair was curled, greying but still buoyant, her eyes told the soldier a sad tale but they still held weary kindness.
“This way ma’am, I’ll see you to rights” Jonah Murrow said confidently, trying to find ways to be accommodating and cheerful.
Even if he felt the opposite, he wasn’t necessarily shell shocked as dazed and not all spiritually there. He had no idea that welcoming the guest would turns worlds upside down and inside out.
✽ ✽ ✽
I don’t know what the hell made me potter about in that tiny bedding area that was all mine, all I had was already packed away in my rucksack. My other worldly possessions were in a place I wouldn’t likely be seeing again. But Charlemagne was on the way to Arbre Rogue and it all depended how I treated the opportunity in passing close to the town.
Strategizing helps stifle my anger but it’s not long before I think of the folded-in metal carcass that a convoy used to be, ATLAS won’t retaliate other than announce yet another condemnation to the Rogue State of Antioch.
