by Mark Kelly
“Now, I will help you find your voice,” she said, handing the jar to Lucia and nodding her head, encouraging her to drink. As Lucia drank from the jar, the woman spoke. “With this water, I will nourish your body. With this water, I will open your heart so you may speak for those who cannot. With this water, I will cleanse your throat, so you may ask for the help you need.”
The water was cool. It soothed Lucia’s throat as she swallowed it. The old woman smiled and said, “Michael has shared your journey with us. He has told us what you and the others who are not here have done, how through your actions the world may have another chance. Join me and we will burn tobacco to help those who have died with their journey through the spirit world ,and then you may speak of the ones you would like to remember.”
Lucia stood with the walking stick in her hand and followed the old woman to a cast iron wood stove at the back of the longhouse. The old woman opened a pouch she took from her bag and gave Lucia a pinch of tobacco. Then she opened the stove door. Lucia leaned forward and tossed the tobacco leaves onto the embers. Hypnotized by the fire, she watched the leaves glow red for an instant before they burst into flames.
“Now, you may speak,” the old woman said as the scent of burning tobacco filled the air.
Lucia took a deep breath. To her surprise, the words came easily. “When I was a small girl in school, I learned of the Spanish writer, Miguel de Cervantes. It was he who said, ‘El que pierde su valentía lo pierde todo.’ In English, this means, if you lose your courage, you lose everything. In my life before the pandemic, I did not know many courageous people, but in the time since then, I have come to see the world is full of bravery if you open your eyes and look for it. There are three people I would like to remember today.”
“The first is Gong. Like me, he was not from this country. I did not know him well, but he was a good man. His leaders sent him here to take what wasn’t theirs, but he disobeyed them and fought on the barricade alongside your people. He and the people who died on the barricade gave their lives so others could live. He was a hero. They were all heroes.”
“The next person I want to recognize is a man named Charlie. Because of him and my friend Mei, I am alive and here today. I was no one—a stranger to them both—but for reasons I do not understand, they helped me. Charlie showed us a way to escape from the hospital in New York City and could have left with us, but he stayed and take care of those who were too sick to leave. He was a hero too—not a fighter, but a selfless man.”
She paused and glanced nervously around the longhouse. Then she spoke again. “The last person I want to remember is a man I only knew for a few hours. His name was Dylan. He spent his life hiding in the shadows, afraid of everything, but when it mattered the most, he found the courage that existed in his heart and died helping to save the girl who is our future. He showed me that even a weak person is capable of great bravery.” She stepped away from the wood stove and turned to face the old woman who limped towards her.
“I am finished,” Lucia said stiffly.
“You opened your heart to remember your friends.”
“They weren’t my friends.” Lucia awkwardly thrust the walking stick towards the old woman.
“Here, take it.”
The old woman stared at the elaborately carved effigy on the handle. “I recognize this. It belonged—”
“Take it.”
“I can not. You should only give it to someone who has helped you.”
“Take it—you helped me, and this will help you,” Lucia said, blurting the words out. She could feel her face turning bright red. She pressed the walking stick into the old woman’s hands and bolted for the door.
Baker caught up to her as she stepped outside. “Is everything okay?”
Her eyes watered and she blinked, pretending it was from the bright sunlight.
“I am fine, let’s go. We have a man to kill.”
19
Back across the river
They were half-way across the parking lot when Otetiani and his sister burst out of the longhouse. Otetiani’s fists were clenched by his side and he looked like a man on a mission as he ran towards them.
“What’s going on?” Baker asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I just received a call on the radio. There’s a group of men from les Chevalier de Montréal at the market making demands.”
“Are they looking for us?” Baker asked.
“No, they’re looking for me. We were late getting this month’s fuel shipment to them.”
Otetiani stopped and frowned. He squinted at Baker. “Why would they be looking for you?”
“Because I killed some people,” Lucia said.
Otetiani’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you killed some people?”
“It’s a long story,” Baker replied.
Lucia shook her head. “No, it is not.”
“No…I guess it isn’t,” Baker said with a sigh. He told Otetiani about the events at the truck stop. As he did, Kateri stared at Lucia.
“You did that?”
“I did what needed to be done,” Lucia replied.
Otetiani shook his head in disbelief and said, “I can leave you here and someone else will take you back to the house, or you can take your chances and come with me.”
“We’ll come,” Baker and Lucia said together.
They piled in to his truck and he took off, kicking up dust and gravel as he drove away. Most of the twenty-minute ride was a high-speed blur and more than once, Lucia was certain Otetiani was going to kill them all with his driving.
When they stopped, she recognized their destination. It was the same dock where she and the others had boarded the cigarette boat that took them across the river to Canada. This time, a large cabin cruiser waited for them with its engines idling. A man stood by the captain’s seat, his hand resting on the throttle. Another man stood on the dock near the bow of the ship holding a coiled dock line in his hand.
“We’re good to go,” the man on the dock shouted to Otetiani as they jogged towards the boat. He didn’t appear surprised to see Kateri, but his eyes lingered on Baker and Lucia as he spoke. “We’ve already taken the first two loads across the river. There’s another three hundred and thirty gallons onboard. You know he’ll want more, right?”
“Let him ask. He won’t get it. We’re only a couple of days late,” Otetiani said. He jerked his head towards Lucia and Baker. “They’re coming with us. They’ve got history with the Frenchman.”
The man shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
When they were all onboard, the captain shifted the transmission into gear and the water off the stern began to froth and bubble. Slowly, the boat edged away from the dock. Otetiani grabbed Lucia’s arm to steady her.
“Hold on to something.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when the engines roared to life, thrusting the boat’s bow upward. Lucia felt herself sliding backward. She planted her feet and grabbed the railing while she stared at the drums of gasoline in front of her and imagined two thousand pounds of fuel crushing her like a bug.
“It will take a little longer this time,” Otetiani shouted over the noise of the wind.
“What will?”
“The trip across.”
Compared to the rocket-like cigarette boat they had taken the first time, the cabin cruiser was a lumbering dump truck. It had been stripped of all its non-essential equipment and was utilitarian in every way. Traveling at one-fifth the speed of the cigarette boat, it didn’t so much as leap over the waves as smash through them.
Lucia wondered if Otetiani was angry they had cost him his cigarette boat. Probably not, she thought. Even with all the fuel he had, he wouldn’t waste it on something that managed one mile-per-gallon on a good day. Not now, not when he didn’t have to worry about soldiers and customs agents chasing him.
As they neared the Canadian side of the river, She saw the dam off to their left. A dozen small boats were moored near it f
ishing for whatever bounty the deep and cold river water might provide. Along the shoreline, the market stalls with their colorful plastic tarps flapping in the wind looked like a line of Tibetan prayer flags.
The boat’s captain throttled the engines back and pulled up alongside a makeshift dock made of wood planks and steel pipes hammered into the riverbed.
Otetiani jumped off the boat first. He quickly tied the docking lines to the steel pipes. When the boat was moored, the captain cut the engines and came down from the bridge to join them.
“Start unloading the barrels,” Otetiani said to his men. “Take them to the end of the dock, but don’t bring them up to the parking lot until I tell you. If Henri decides to be difficult, I sure as hell don’t want to be standing next to three hundred gallons of gasoline.”
He glanced at Kateri and said, “I know you won’t, but I’m going to ask anyway. Will you stay here?”
“Nope. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She squeezed between Baker and Lucia and stepped off the boat onto the dock.
“What about you two?” Otetiani asked Baker and Lucia. This isn’t your fight. You can stay here if you want.”
Already half-way off the boat, Lucia walked over to stand next to Kateri. Baker grinned. “Well, I guess that decides it, not that there was ever any doubt.” His face turned serious as he asked Otetiani, “Are you expecting trouble?”
“No. Henri’s a tough bastard, but at the end of the day, he’s also a businessman. The fuel we give him is one of the reasons why he is able to control this part of the country. He’ll bitch and moan, but I don’t think he’ll cause any trouble.”
“That’s good,” Baker said, “but I think it would be best if Lucia and I stayed out of sight. She may have done him a favor when she killed his competitor, but she also humiliated him in front of his men, and I’d hate for our presence to cause you more problems. If you’d like, we can help provide cover while you’re talking to him.”
Otetiani nodded. “I like the idea of extra cover, and I know just the place.” He pointed to a small building set back from the river. It was a few hundred feet from the dam and fronted the parking lot. “You’ll have a clear line of sight of our meeting from there,” he said.
“What’s in the building?” Baker asked.
“Not much. It’s a maintenance shed. That’s where we store Henri’s fuel.”
Baker grinned, a mischievous look on his face. “Let me see if I got this right, you want me to cover you from inside a building full of drums of gasoline?”
“I can see how that might be a problem.”
“Only if they start shooting at me,” Baker said, chuckling.
Otetiani glanced at the pistol on Baker’s hip. “The least I could do is get you something with a little more fire-power.” He called one of his men over and pointed to the rifle strapped to the man’s shoulder. “I’m guessing you know how to use one of those pretty well?”
Baker smiled. “Pretty well? Yeah, you could say that.”
“Give it to him,” Otetiani said to the man. “You won’t need it while you’re moving the fuel, and he’ll return it when we’re done.”
The man muttered under his breath, unstrapped the rifle from his shoulder, and reluctantly handed it to Baker.
Baker took the gun and expertly ran his eyes over it, pausing as he inspected the trigger in the lower receiver.
“This isn’t stock. It’s aftermarket.”
Surprised, Otetiani’s man nodded approvingly. “You know your way around guns. It won’t do full auto, but it’s quick and has a light trigger pull.”
“How many pounds?”
“About two and a half. I can get three rounds off per second. If you’ve got a quick finger, you might be able to double that.”
“I’ve got a quick finger,” Baker said, lifting the rifle to his shoulder and staring down the barrel as he spoke. “This is a nice weapon. Very nice.”
Lucia grunted with impatience. She’d spent enough time around Baker and the soldiers at the base to have seen their gun fetishes first-hand. “Maybe you should marry it,” she said sarcastically to him, “but what about me?”
Baker’s eyes widened.
She felt her cheeks flush and blurted, “I mean I need a rifle too.”
“I’ve got a spare AR-15 up on the flybridge,” the boat’s captain said. “That’s a type of gun in case you didn’t know.”
“No kidding? Does it shoot bullets?”
“Of course,” he said with a frown, “but it’s not designed for a woman. It’s pretty powerful.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your concern, but I know what an AR-15 is and I think I can manage—even though I am just a woman.”
“Go get it for her,” Otetiani said, stepping forward and wisely placing himself in between the two of them.
“Maybe you should stay here,” Baker said to Lucia.
“Why? Because I am a woman?”
“No, because of what happened at the truck-stop. Henri’s not going to forget. What if he sees you?”
“Don’t be stupid. I will be standing beside you, and you will be providing cover, which unless I am mistaken means that you will also be hidden.”
The boat’s captain returned with the gun. “Be careful. It’s—”
“Powerful, I know.” Lucia snatched it out of his hands and marched down the dock. Behind her, she heard Baker say, “Let’s get going. I’ve been to this rodeo before, and It doesn’t usually end well when she’s out in front.”
The two men broke out in laughter. Lucia resisted the urge to turn around and shoot them both.
Taking care not to be seen, she pressed against the maintenance shed wall and stared out the window at the horde of bikers, searching for Petit Henri.
She didn’t have to search for long. The passenger side door of a large white five-ton rental truck opened, and he jumped out with a lit cigarette in his mouth that bobbed up and down as he talked to the men who clustered around him. He laughed at something one of them said and a puff of smoke streamed out of his nose. Compared to the last time she had seen him, he looked downright relaxed.
She turned at the sound of the shed’s back door opening behind her. Baker and Otetiani came through it and squeezed past a drum of fuel. Their faces were somber as they made their way to the window. Both men were all business now.
“See anything interesting?” Baker asked her.
“Un montón de cabezas de mierda.”
“What?”
“A bunch of shit-heads.”
Otetiani crouched and peeked out the window. He let out a low whistle. “A lot more than normal. Henri usually sends the truck and a handful of men on bikes to guard it, but never this many. Something must be going on.”
Lucia leaned forward to look over Otetiani shoulder. She watched Petit Henri say something and one of his men walked to the back of the truck and opened the doors. The inside of the truck’s box was empty except for his bike with its ridiculous handlebars and fleur-de-lys flag.
Otetiani recognized the motorcycle and frowned. “I wonder why he isn’t riding his bike?” He saw Lucia give Baker a quick look and stiffened. “Okay, you two, what else aren’t you telling me?”
“It was his idea,” Lucia said, “He threw the wires away.”
“Wires?”
“She means spark-plug cables,” Baker replied in a defensive voice. “And I didn’t throw them away. I put them on the roof of a car where he could find them. Maybe, he missed them.”
“What is it with you two?” Otetiani muttered. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying, don’t poke the bear? I’d better get out there and get this over with before things spin out of control.”
He glanced at Kateri, who quickly said, “Go, I’ll be fine. Call us on channel four if you need anything.” She reached down and turned a knob on the small hand-held radio clipped to her belt.
Otetiani checked the settings on his own radio. Then he grabbed the handles of a moving dolly
already loaded with a fifty-five gallon drum of fuel.
“I might as well take this out with me and show Henri that I’m dealing with him in good faith.” As he wheeled the dolly out of the shed, Otetiani paused long enough to grunt out a final warning to them. “Stay here unless I tell you otherwise.”
20
Paid in Full
Lucia watched Otetiani pushed the dolly across the parking lot towards the white truck.
“Everything will be fine,” Kateri said, her voice brimming with forced confidence. “Michael knows what he’s doing. He and Henri go way, way back.”
“How so?” Baker asked, looking over at her from his position beside the window.
“They did business together before the pandemic.”
“What kind of business was your brother in?”
“Import and Export.”
“Of what?”
“Mostly cigarettes and alcohol, but sometimes, people or other things.” She squinted at Baker, apparently trying to decide if he was going to say something derogatory. “Never drugs or anything really bad—in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t wondering at all,” Baker replied. “I’ve known a lot of people in that line of work.”
Kateri gave him an odd look, but Lucia knew he was talking about his prior life with the Special Forces. He didn’t talk about it much, but once, in the mess hall at the base, she had overheard him reminiscing with a group of Leduc’s soldiers who had also fought against the Taliban. They all had stories to tell about their dealings with the Pashtun tribes who made a living smuggling goods and people in and out of Afghanistan. It was one of the few times she had seen Baker let down his guard.
“What are they doing now?” Kateri asked, the worried tone back in her voice.
Baker unslung the rifle from his shoulder. Using his foot, he propped the door open to get a better view of the parking lot. “Nothing much. They haven’t seen your brother yet. They’re still busy drinking and acting like idiots.”
