by Jim Heskett
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks, amigo. Not everyone around here is so understanding, you know? Some people would go straight to the shift leader, and then it’s no fun for anybody. If you get what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s okay.”
Alejandro leaned over to stack bowls, and Yorick saw it right away. The tattoo.
He sucked in a breath as he put the image together in his head. Two concentric circles with a cross and a triangle inside them. The same symbol he had seen at the plantación. The symbol that had led them to freedom, the same one that had led them back to Tenney.
His tattoo was faded and broken around the edges. Years old. But, there was no mistaking it.
Alejandro stopped what he was doing and gave Yorick an awkward chuckle. His wide blue eyes darted around. “What’s that look for?”
“Your tattoo,” Yorick said, lowering his voice.
Alejandro glanced left and right. No one was paying any attention to them. “Oh yeah? You like it? My sister did that for me a couple years ago. It’s just something I used to doodle when I was a kid.”
“No, it’s not,” Yorick said. “I know what it is.”
Alejandro took a step back, sizing up Yorick as he wiped his hands on a dish rag. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I can see the way you’re looking at me, and you’re wrong. It’s not anything.”
Yorick hesitated, debating. He didn’t have any reason to mistrust Alejandro or think him an enemy. But, admitting to knowing the implication of the tattoo was risky.
Or, at least, Yorick assumed it was risky. He didn’t know the meaning of the tattoo beyond that it helped him back at the plantación. It led him and Rosia to a revolution.
“It’s okay,” Yorick said. “I’m a friend. That symbol saved my life.”
Alejandro didn’t seem to know how to take this. So, he stared, mute. He was waiting for Yorick to give him more. All around them, the life of the kitchen persisted, pots clanging, people shouting food orders, rubber soles squeaking on the tiled floor.
“I want to show you something,” Yorick said. “Can you come to our room during my lunch break?”
Alejandro crossed his arms, breathing, eyes searching Yorick’s face.
Yorick and Rosia sat on the bed in their room, both of them nervous.
“Only the stars know if this is a good idea,” she said. “He could be anyone.”
“Or, he could be exactly the person we need to move things along. How else could he have the tattoo? Aside from in the plantación, have you ever seen that tattoo somewhere else? I haven’t.”
“No,” she said, “that’s true. But I don’t know if that alone makes him trustworthy.”
“I agree. We need to play this carefully. Make him tell us what he knows first before we reveal who we are.”
A knock came at the door before they could debate it any further. Yorick looked to her, and she nodded her consent. He crossed the room and opened the door to find Alejandro standing there, alone. No security from the brothel with him, no soldados, no weapons. Just standing there, waiting for an invite. A promising first sign. Yorick waved him in and then motioned to the chair across from the bed.
Alejandro sat. “Okay, why am I here?”
“We know what that symbol is,” Yorick said.
“So you told me already.”
“We know it because we saw it inside Lord Wybert’s plantación in Wyoming.”
Rosia gave him a stern look, but Yorick ignored it. Something told him to push forward and open up to Alejandro. Now was the time to take a chance.
Their guest’s face screwed up in confusion. “Wait, I know that name Wybert. Where do I know that name?” Then, it seemed to hit him, and his jaw dropped. “That’s the plantación where they revolted and killed the lord, right? I heard about that.”
“How do you feel about his death?” Yorick asked. “Do you have an opinion?”
“I have lots of opinions about the lords and city bosses in this kingdom. That doesn’t mean you’re entitled to hear them.”
“Come on,” Yorick said. “We gave you something. Give us something back. I think you know where we stand on it. The fact that we know what your tattoo means should give you a clue.”
Alejandro’s lips shifted back and forth as his eyes studied the two of them. After several seconds of a mute stalemate, he finally said, “Okay. I’m glad Lord Wybert is dead. I didn’t know him, but if he was like the others, then he deserved to die. People are not meant to spend their lives in chains.”
“It was us,” Rosia said. “We killed him.”
Alejandro sat back. “Mierda. Why should I believe you?”
“Tell us who you are first,” Yorick said. “And then, we can prove it to you.”
Their guest considered this, then he blew out a sigh. “My name is Alejandro Ruiz, but I’m not from here. I was born in Boston.”
“Where is that?”
“Back east. Massachusetts.”
Yorick was beginning to understand. “That’s Frenchie territory.”
“That’s right,” Alejandro said. “I was raised in the resistance.” He pointed to his neck. “This symbol is a symbol of freedom. It’s to commemorate all the good people who lost their lives when the Mexicans conducted their war against us. You probably don’t even know the history.”
“We know more than you think.”
He scoffed. “I doubt it. The truth has all been buried and replaced with the king’s approved version. But it’s all lies.”
“We found a manuscript,” Rosia said. “It was written by a history professor. He talked about the United States of America, and how the government collapsed and the country was sold off in pieces.”
Alejandro’s eyes widened. “Do you still have this manuscript?”
“No,” Yorick said. “We were kidnapped on our way here and it disappeared. It’s probably destroyed by now.”
Alejandro frowned. “That’s just as well. No one would believe it, anyway. Now, tell me how you know this symbol.”
“We saw it in the plantación,” Yorick said. “It led us to a series of tunnels we used to overthrow Wybert.”
“How do I know what you’re telling me is true?”
Yorick’s heart thumped against his chest. He was either about to make a huge mistake or a giant leap forward. Rosia put her hand on his knee, nodding.
Yorick removed the chip from his pocket and held it out in an open palm. The little device sat there, inert and seemingly harmless.
Alejandro’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” Yorick said. “It’s a control chip. We stole this from Wybert, and we had it reprogrammed to spread a computer virus into the royal network.”
Alejandro gave a short bark of a laugh. “I’ll be damned. That’s incredible.” He reached out for it, but Yorick pulled his hand back.
“My people could do amazing things with that chip,” Alejandro said.
“That’s what everyone claims,” Yorick said. “But we want it for something specific. We want to use it to help people, not hurt people.”
Alejandro shrugged. “War is ugly. People will die, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. Only children think there will be peace without blood.”
“Maybe so,” Yorick said, “but we’re going to hold on to the chip for now. Do you have a problem with that?”
Alejandro shook his head, and Yorick believed him. If their guest had a hidden agenda, Yorick couldn’t detect it.
“Can you get us inside the capitol building?” Rosia asked.
“Maybe. You’re here at a good time. Things are happening. Big things. Can you come to a meeting tonight?”
Yorick and Rosia shared a look. “I think we can do that. But, why would you trust us? Why did you tell us any of this at all?”
“The end times are here,” Alejandro said. “It’s too late to stop it, no matter what you know or what you intend to do. It’s been to
o long, but the pinche leaders are going to fall. They’re fat and slow and think they are untouchable. There will be a reckoning, and it’s coming sooner than they think.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tenney adjusted the sling keeping his arm cradled close to his body. As long as he didn’t move it around much, the bullet wound never grew to more than a dull ache. The accommodating nurse at the clinic had given him some pain medication, but he’d been cutting the pills in half. They made him too groggy.
And, for what he needed to do this evening, he couldn’t afford to be groggy.
Tenney met Yorick and Rosia outside the building, a seedy pub on Colfax Avenue. The building was run-down, covered in graffiti, with half the windows broken. Perfect cover for the sort of organization they were checking out this evening. Now dark, the street was almost empty. A few putas were wandering about, shifty-eyed men who were probably selling drugs, and other shadowy figures. Tenney assumed these others were maybe hitmen for hire, but he didn’t get close enough to any of them to know for sure. Either way, Colfax seemed to be the place to come for services unapproved by the king. No watchful eye of the soldados anywhere.
Tenney had his reservations about this meeting. He didn’t know if a tattoo of the circle symbol was enough to earn his trust. But, Yorick and Rosia believed in it, so Tenney would wait to judge. He needed to be close to them. He was smart enough to know that being by himself too often was a dumb move right now because it allowed the despair to seep into his veins.
Tenney saw Yorick, Rosia, and Hamon standing off to the side of the building, underneath a rectangular structure that looked like a small rain shelter. He lifted his free hand, and Rosia beckoned him to come over.
When he approached, the blond-haired and blue-eyed older one named Hamon stuck out his hand. He had makeup on his face, which Tenney tried not to gawk at.
“Good evening and good harvest. My name is Hamon. I don’t think we ever met at the plantación, but I used to see you around.”
Tenney shook, trying his best to offer a smile. “We didn’t, but I knew who you were. Until you disappeared inside the mansion, I mean. We all thought you were dead after that.”
“I thought I would be, too. I guess I got lucky.”
“Did you ever see any farm serfs in there?” Tenney asked.
Hamon shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t see much of anything inside the mansion. Wybert kept a tight leash on me.”
“Is your arm okay?” Rosia asked.
Tenney tilted his head from side to side. “It’s fine. I can’t move it much, but I’ll be alright.”
“We need to go,” Yorick said. “Alejandro is waiting for us.”
Tenney thought it was odd this rebel organization would wait for these four outsiders to begin their meeting, but he fell in line with the others. On the way toward the building, he caught up to Yorick and asked in a low voice, “Do you trust these people?”
Yorick shrugged. “Not yet. But, something big is coming, and we need to know what it is. We’re here to learn. That’s all.”
Tenney understood. This was less about an alliance and more about figuring out where all the pieces fit. He felt much better about charging ahead into this situation now.
Inside the building, Tenney discovered the pub was only the front room, and there was actually a spacious back room with auditorium seating before a stage. The room felt like an indoor version of the area where they used to watch summer plays at the plantación. A hundred people were in the seats, and many of them turned to look as Tenney and his friends entered the room.
An older man with wisps of gray in his receding hairline stood behind a podium at the front, organizing papers. The microphone in front of his face amplified the air whistling through his nose.
Near them, a young man with bushy black hair waved them over. “That’s Alejandro,” Yorick whispered to Tenney and Hamon.
“Are these people with the sun worshippers or the White Flames?” Tenney whispered back.
Yorick shook his head. “I don’t think they’re with either. I think they’re Frenchies, but I don’t know anything for sure yet.”
Tenney heaved in a deep breath as he had a seat in the row, next to Yorick. It made sense. Tenney had never seen so many light-skinned people in one place before.
Frenchies, sun worshippers, White Flames, possibly even others, all out there in various hiding holes in Denver. All these different groups within the city and they all had their own goals and agendas. Tenney didn’t trust any of them.
“Everyone,” said the man on the stage. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s hard since we have to move every week.” He paused and spread a broad smile. “I see new faces out there in the crowd, and I’m glad you’re with us. You have questions. You may look around and wonder where the rest of us are. Believe me, there are thousands more out there. Waiting, watching, ready to go. We are only the head of the snake, but the body is what will bring an end to this regime.”
Tenney looked around at the crowd. All of them with eyes glued to the man on the stage. Silent, gazing with rapt anticipation. It reminded him of how the young ones used to look up at Lord Wybert when he spoke, before they learned of his cruelty.
“Because,” the man said, “the time is now. In two days, our people outside the walls will arrive. The revolution is here.”
Tenney checked the general reaction. In general, a rumble of excitement passed through the crowd. Except for his friends, who all looked dumbfounded. Two days until the war started? That didn’t seem like enough time.
The man on the stage banged his fist against the podium to signal order. “There are others who will join us. They may not align with us exactly, but they want the same thing: to remove King Nichol and his despotic government. We will use their tools of war and their machines so we can tear it down and build it back up the right way.”
Yorick leaned over and whispered to Hamon. “He means the sun worshippers. They have Wybert’s robots.”
Tenney didn’t know what to think. If this group would partner with the sun worshippers, perhaps they weren’t to be trusted after all. How could he agree with any action taken by people who would excuse the behavior of terrorists?
“This is war,” the man on the stage said as if addressing Tenney’s question directly. “We must do things we find distasteful. There’s an ancient quote about the blood of tyrants refreshing the tree of liberty, and we would do well to remember that.”
Alejandro pivoted in his chair to face Yorick. “The chip,” Alejandro said in a low voice. “Give it to me. I’ve been patient, but we can’t wait any longer. We need a day or two just to reprogram it.”
“Reprogram it for what?” Yorick asked.
“We want to disrupt their army’s communication. If they can’t talk to each other, they can’t organize when the assault happens.”
Yorick hesitated, his lips parted and his eyes searching.
Alejandro’s jaw set. “Disrupting their communications will save lives. Innocent lives. Now’s the time to show the chip to everyone. My people need to see this.”
Yorick and Rosia shared a look. As an observer, Tenney could practically see the conflict rumbling in Yorick’s head. If he gave them the chip, that meant no freedom for the serfs. Overthrowing the king didn’t necessarily mean the plantación system would crumble.
Retaining the chip was the only definitive chance to help the serfs.
But, giving up the chip to Alejandro could help their effort in the war. Killing their communication could be a big advantage on the battlefield. Assuming this stranger was telling the truth.
Yorick shook his head. “I didn’t bring it with me.”
Alejandro eyed him. “Why not?”
Yorick balked at the question as Alejandro stared at him. But, Yorick held strong and didn’t cower. As far as Tenney was concerned, Yorick had made the right choice. No sense in trusting these people without earning it first. These four former serfs of Lord Wybert’s had thei
r own agendas.
After a moment, Alejandro turned back to face the man on stage as he continued his wartime propaganda against the king. Alejandro said nothing else about it. But, he clearly wasn’t happy.
A swell of pride rushed through Tenney to be sitting with Hamon, Yorick, and Rosia. He didn’t know Hamon, but he knew enough to understand that he trusted these people with his life. That they had all experienced the same trials and hardships under Lord Wybert’s rule. They had survived a common peril. No one else could ever understand.
He was happy to stand alongside them. And, whatever was to come, he knew he would be proud to share their same future struggle.
But, Tenney didn’t know tonight was the last time he would see the three of them alive.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In the morning, Yorick worked his kitchen shift. The kitchen buzzed with the usual activity, and he lost himself in the noise and frantic motion of it. He did like how busy his duties kept him.
All the different possibilities in his head went to war with each other. A part of him wanted to turn the control chip over to Alejandro and his Frenchie revolutionaries. They would know what to do with it better than he, right?
But, Yorick didn’t know what to think about them. Alejandro had said his people wanted to use the chip to disrupt the soldado’s communication network, which seemed like a worthy cause. Yorick didn’t know if he could trust them, though.
The man at the podium had spoken of bloody revolution and crushing the king under his boot. Frenchies only seemed to care about overthrowing the government. Sun worshippers valued destruction and chaos. White Flames—still out to murder Yorick and Rosia for killing Menendez, as far as Yorick knew—didn’t want anything but power. They might not even take part in a revolution, preferring instead to wait it out and pick over the scraps like vultures.
Yorick didn’t want to hand over the singular power of his chip to people who would use it for their own gain.
No, Yorick only trusted himself and his friends to do the right thing and free the slaves. Once the chip was used after reprogramming, it couldn’t be used again. They had exactly one chance to change the world. Freedom was the revolution they wanted, not an apocalypse.
