The Earthling (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  One of the bargirls took a deep snort of the drug. Then she bolted up, shuddered, and pulled a coat over her lingerie. She walked across the room, high heels clattering. She was in her early thirties, a little old for a bargirl, but Maria thought her very beautiful. She was slender, but her hips were curvy for a Bahayan girl, and her bob cut shimmered like black silk.

  "I'm outta here!" the woman said, heading toward the door.

  The Magic Man grabbed her wrist. "You wait one moment, Charlie. How much did you pull last night? You put my half in the register?"

  Charlie wrenched her arm free. "Seven hundred pesos. Fuck! I told you last night, Rodrigo. It's in the cash register. Let me go. I gotta go feed my kids." She glanced at Maria, then back at the Magic Man. "Who's the new bitch?"

  "Ah, isn't she a princess?" The Magic Man ran his fingers through Maria's hair. "Look at that silky hair! Those beautiful lips! And you should hear her voice."

  The bargirl snorted. "She stinks. She's a fucking gutter rat." She grabbed Maria's crotch. "Probably has crabs."

  "Hey, don't!" Maria stepped back, cheeks heating.

  "Looks can be deceiving," said the Magic Man. "Our dear Princess Maria is a virgin. And only sixteen."

  "Eighteen," Maria said. "Today's my birthday."

  "Hush! I said you are sixteen!" The Magic Man put a finger on her lips, then looked at the other girls. "She'll fetch a high price tonight. More than seven hundred pesos. Much more."

  Charlie sneered. She squeezed Maria's arm—painfully. "Listen to me, you little bitch. I'm the queen of the Go Go Cowgirl. You got it? I'm the Cowgirl. Me! Charlie. You are nothing. You are a worm. You will never earn what I earn here. Do you understand?"

  Charlie stood taller than Maria, and while slender, she was strong, her fingers digging like claws. Maria struggled to wrench herself free.

  "Leave me alone!"

  "Charlie, don't abuse my princess!" the Magic Man said. "Don't be so jealous. The girl isn't going to dethrone you." He stroked Charlie's cheek. "You will always be my special cowgirl. This new girl is a princess, but you are forever my queen."

  Charlie seemed to melt. She released Maria and gave the Magic Man a half-hearted shove.

  "Fuck you, Rodrigo. You always know how to woo me."

  The Magic Man ran a hand through Charlie's gleaming bob. "Good. Now go wash the princess. And dress her. Something white and virginal. Tonight will be a big night."

  "What?" Charlie took a step back. "Fuck you! I have to go, Rodrigo! My kids need me. I—"

  The Magic Man hit her.

  It happened so fast Maria jumped.

  The back of his hand connected with Charlie's cheek, and the bargirl sprawled on the floor.

  Maria gasped, dumbfounded for a second. Then she knelt by Charlie.

  "Are you all right? You're bleeding!"

  But Charlie shoved her away. "Don't touch me, bitch!" She stood up, wiped blood from her lip, and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Magic Man. Whatever you say."

  The bar owner kissed Charlie's cheek. "That's my lovely queen. Go, girls. Make me proud tonight."

  He sent Charlie off with a solid slap on the bottom. The bargirl headed across the common room, pulling Maria along.

  They stepped over fallen beer bottles, overturned chairs, and sleeping Earthlings. One of the soldiers rose from his drunken stupor, smiled hazily, and reached toward Maria.

  "Hey, I'll have a go with the virgin! Bring her here, Charlie."

  The bargirl snorted. "Your ass is poor, Earthling. You don't have enough money for a virgin."

  "Had enough to fuck your brains out last night," the Earthling said, then passed out again.

  Maria winced.

  She's a prostitute, she thought. They all are here. All the girls. The Magic Man said I only need to sing, but the soldier said…

  "Charlie, I—"

  "Shut up! Don't talk to me. Fuck! You're making me late."

  Charlie pulled her upstairs. An Earthling soldier sat on the staircase, a boy of eighteen or nineteen, head in his hands. He was crying.

  "Mom, he died…" The soldier shuddered. "I saw him die. In the forest. He had no arms. Oh god, Mom, oh god, I want to go home…"

  Maria wanted to comfort him. But Charlie pulled her on. They climbed around the weeping soldier and reached a corridor.

  The place stank of sweat and sex. Doorways lined the corridor. As they walked by, Maria glanced into the rooms. Soldiers lay snoring inside, a few with bargirls still in their arms, sleeping late into the morning. One soldier lay in a bed, two girls sleeping in his arms. He had no legs, just stumps wrapped in bandages. Probably not much money left now either, not with two girls and all those empty bottles around him.

  He lost his legs, so he can go back to Earth soon, Maria thought. But we're stuck here. We, the daughter of Bahay. We are the lost.

  They entered a bathroom. An Earthling soldier sat inside the dry tub, holding a razor blade to his wrists. He looked up at the girls, eyes rimmed with red. Sunken eyes. Eyes staring ten thousand miles away.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Charlie blurted out. "Not again. Rick, get the fuck out of here! I told you a million times, if you wanna kill yourself, do it at your barracks."

  He blinked at her, coming out of a trance. "But I want to die surrounded by beauty."

  Charlie rolled her eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake." She pulled open her robe, letting him view her lingerie-clad body. "There. Take a mental photograph. Now get the fuck out of here."

  The suicidal Earthling left the bathroom. Maria watched him go.

  "Maybe we should talk to him?" she whispered.

  Charlie snickered. "Oh, he's fine. He's been threatening suicide every day since coming back from the front. I swear he does it just to get a look at my dibdibs. Speaking of dibdibs." She tugged at Maria's rags. "Get this filthy shit off. Let me see what I've got to work with."

  Maria recoiled. "I can wash myself."

  Another scoff. "Oh, you need more than a scrub, princess. You came straight out of the gutter. You need the works. Charlie's Special Scouring Service. Now strip!"

  The older woman scrubbed her roughly. Maria yelped and protested, but Charlie was stronger, and she nearly rubbed Maria's skin off, fighting layers of grime.

  "My God, you sewer rats are filthy," Charlie said. "Do you swim in garbage or just sleep in it?"

  I ate it too, Maria thought, but she said nothing. The memory shamed her. She remembered seeing the trash people, the community that lived on the landfill. Remembered seeing babies born there. Old women fishing through the garbage for anything half edible. Generations growing and dying there like flies, but they were humans with human souls.

  But are the girls in this bar any different? she thought. We're all broken, all ashamed, and all noble. We are the survivors. We are the daughters of war.

  They spent an extra-long time cleaning Maria's hair, shampooing, conditioning, then brushing over and over, trying to remove the tangles. A few tangles were too stubborn, and no patience could undo them.

  Charlie pulled out scissors. She snipped the air twice. "Sit down, girl."

  Maria winced. "Don't take off too much."

  The scissors snipped, snipped, snipped. Locks of knotted hair fell onto the floor. Finally Maria was left with a bob cut. Her hair had once flowed down to her waist. It now barely tickled her chin. It stabbed her heart to lose her long hair, which she had once been rather vain of. But when she looked at Charlie, Maria felt comforted. Charlie was beautiful—perhaps the most beautiful woman Maria had ever seen—and she too wore a bob.

  Maria smiled at the older woman. "Now we look the same!"

  But Charlie did not return the smile. She sat on the bathtub rim, and she gazed at the wall, and like the suicidal soldier, she seemed to be looking ten thousand miles away.

  "You shouldn't want to be me," Charlie said softly.

  Maria hadn't exactly said that. But she just said, "Why not? You're very beautiful."

  Charlie snorted. "
And in my thirties. And a single mother." She sighed. "I remember my first day here. I was about your age. How old are you again?"

  "Eighteen," Maria said. "Today's my birthday."

  "Well, Happy Fucking Birthday. I was fifteen when the Magic Man fished me out of the gutter. I've been here most of my life. God fucking damn." She snorted. "Nobody wants to marry an aging whore with four little brats and half the diseases known to infect a crotch." She gripped Maria's chin and stared into her eyes. "Listen to me, girl. You grab a husband here, okay? An Earthling soldier. A kind one who doesn't hit you too much. You marry that son of a bitch, and when the war is over, you get him to take you home to Earth. Get the fuck off this planet, okay? Bahay is a trap. You don't want to end up an aging whore like me."

  "I'm not a whore," Maria said. "The Magic Man said I'm just here to sing."

  Charlie's eyes softened. She caressed Maria's cheek. "You're sweet. Too sweet for this world." She smiled. "My god, even at fifteen, I wasn't a fucking idiot like you."

  "My mother said my head is too big and full of questions." Maria hung her head. "She died."

  "All our families are dead, darling. And it's our job to fuck the men who killed them." She pulled a packet of powdered crystals from her coat, held it to her nose, sniffed deeply. "Shabu helps. But stay away from this shit. Trust me. It dims the pain. But it also dims the soul."

  "Then why do you snort it?" Maria asked.

  Charlie smiled thinly. "Because I'm a fucking idiot too. Now come, we'll get you some new clothes."

  They entered a dressing room. Many outfits hung from hooks—lingerie, fishnet stockings, corsets, and scanty cowgirl costumes. Maria blushed. She could not imagine wearing such things.

  But Charlie chose something different for Maria. It was a white dress. And not even scandalous. When Maria put it on it, it flowed down to her ankles.

  "Ah, there you go." Charlie smoothed Maria's dress and fixed her hair. "You look like an angel. A virgin from the provinces. You'll find a husband this way, Maria. You can't wait too long."

  Maria examined herself in a mirror.

  She didn't recognize who she saw.

  In some ways, she was the same Maria. The same round face, light brown skin, and dark eyes. The same smooth black hair, even if it was cut shorter now.

  But she was not the same.

  She was not the happy village girl anymore. She was perhaps dressed in virginal white, and a man had never touched her, but she was not innocent. Ghosts haunted her eyes. The death she had seen. The horror she had suffered through. The men she had killed. She looked like a precious doll, but that shell held a dark soul.

  "I'll leave you without makeup," Charlie said. "You don't need it. You will at my age. Savor your youth while you can."

  Maria looked at the older woman. "Charlie, you're very beautiful. Much more than me. I hope that you can meet a husband, and that he can take you to Earth, and that you can fulfill your dreams."

  The bargirl wiped away a tear. "Charlie is my work name. I'm Dalisay Cortes from Smokey Mountain landfill. I was born a trash girl." She gave a bitter laugh. "I moved up in life." She stood up, eyes damp. "All right, enough! I have to go now. My kids are waiting at home. You have a few hours before a new crowd shows up. Try not to get filthy again by then."

  The bargirl rushed out, leaving Maria in the dressing room.

  Alone, fear filled Maria.

  Fear of tonight.

  Of a fresh group of drunken Earthlings spilling into the bar. Wanting her for… for…

  Maria blushed. She knelt by her old dress, which was nothing but a tattered rag on the floor. She reached into the pocket and fished out Crisanto. The little Santelmo was so dim, barely glowing at all. He seemed to have shrunk from the size of a marble to a pea.

  "Oh Crisanto," Maria whispered. "I want to run away. But I have nowhere else to go. The streets are full of hunger and filth, of rape and theft. The countryside is full of Mister Weird's poison, and the villages have burned. What should I do?"

  But the Santelmo could not speak, only gave a weak flicker, then dimmed.

  Maria went back downstairs. The soldiers were gone now, and a small child was mopping the floor, perhaps a bargirl's daughter.

  "Where is the Magic Man?" Maria asked.

  The child blushed, too shy to speak, but pointed at a door.

  Maria walked around broken glass and a sleeping cat. Without knocking, she opened the door.

  She found herself in a cluttered office. Centerfolds from dirty banyaga magazines hung on the walls, featuring naked Earthling women, blond and pouty and sporting huge silicon breasts. The Magic Man sat in a cracked leather armchair, counting bills. But when he saw Maria, he stood up, grinned, and approached her.

  "Ah, my princess!" He stroked her hair. His golden chains chinked, and his purple polyester suit crinkled. "You are truly beautiful. You will make me a fortune!"

  Maria stared him in the eyes. "You lied to me. You said I was only to sing. But this is a brothel. I know what you want me to do. I'm not so naive."

  Well, I was until Charlie educated me, Maria thought. She left that part out. She remembered how the Magic Man had struck Charlie. She did not want the bargirl to suffer any more beatings.

  The Magic Man's smile faltered. He lifted a stack of money from his desk.

  "Do you see this, Nini?"

  "Money," she said.

  "Life!" The Magic Man shook the sweaty wad of bills. "Dignity! Freedom—from hunger, death, pain. For Charlie, for her brats, for you—for all the girls I take in. Do you want to return to Smokey Mountain, to live in trash and shit?"

  "No," Maria said. "But—"

  "Then you will dance, and you will sing, and you will sell drinks, and if an Earthling wants to fuck you, you will take him into your bed, and by God above, you will give him the best fuck of his life. For this!" He waved the money in her face, shouting now. "For life!"

  "This isn't life," Maria whispered. "We're all already dead in here."

  The Magic Man stared at her, then began to laugh. "Yes. We're the dead. But we're dreamers. Charlie dreams of a husband who'll take her to Earth. I dream of retiring with a fortune. What do you dream of, princess?"

  "I have no more dreams," she said, and a tear flowed.

  "Then step into the back alley and slit your wrists," the Magic Man said. "But if you stay here, you will do as the other girls do."

  Maria lowered her eyes. Her tears flowed. "If they… if they have sex with me, it… it won't be me. It will only be my body, but not me. It'll be somebody else, and I'll be back home. I'll be back home in my village." She trembled. "It won't be me."

  The Magic Man caressed her cheek and dried her tears. "That's a good girl. That's my sweet princess. Now go to the bar. Pour yourself a drink, anything you like, aside from the imported booze. For free. Tonight, the soldiers will come, and the cowgirls will dance. And you will shine brightest of all."

  Maria left his office. And like Crisanto, the light inside her dimmed.

  Chapter Forty

  Go Go Cowgirl

  They gave the platoon five days off.

  For hell in the jungle. For losing more than half their platoon. For the deaths of their closest, dearest friends. For necklaces of severed ears. For bullet wounds and burns. For teenage boys and girls shipped into the gauntlet, terrified, taught to kill. For boys and girls with blood on their hands. For haunted eyes. For shattered souls.

  Five days off.

  A gift. A vacation before their return to the fire.

  A bus picked them up from the Old Mig. Not even a military bus. A local Bahayan bus, painted with rainbows, flowers, and butterflies. The driver was an old Bahayan man with whiskey-colored skin, a grizzled goatee, and a mouth full of tobacco.

  It seemed strange to Jon. Just yesterday, they had been busy killing Bahayans. Now one was driving them. But Etty, who always seemed to know too much for her own good, explained.

  "He's South Bahayan," she told Jon. "It's the N
orth Bahayans who hate Earth. Most South Bahayans like us. That is, aside from the Kalayaan."

  "Wait a minute." George frowned. "I thought the Kennys were North Bahayans."

  Etty snorted. "No, man. The North has a proper army. You know, the Luminous Army. The one the Red Cardinal leads. The Lumis got artillery and armored trucks and proper infantry units. We haven't met those bastards yet. The Kalayaan are the South Bahayans who rebel against us."

  "The Kalayaan are good for nothing alien-lovers!" the bus driver said, his Bahayan accent thick. "I love Earth. Go Earth! If I ever get a chance, I will punch the Red Cardinal right in his face." He turned toward the soldiers. "Hey, when you fly back to Earth, you take me with you, yes? I would make a good Earthling! Buy big Earth house, eat big Earth meals, kids go to good school. You take me, right? You—"

  "Watch the road!" Etty said.

  The driver looked, cursed, and swerved around a village girl herding pigs across the road.

  They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Twenty-three soldiers. Survivors. Killers. The remains of Lizzy's Lions. They stared out the window at villages, rice paddies, and rolling hills draped with rainforest.

  The jungle looks so peaceful from here, Jon thought. But it contains such horrors.

  An hour later, they reached Mindao, the largest city on the planet, home to millions of Bahayans.

  Jon watched the view with dark eyes and silent shock.

  "Are you sure we should spend our free days here?" he said.

  A few corporals and sergeants, having spent a year or two on Bahay, nodded emphatically.

  "Best damn city in the galaxy!" one said.

  "Lots of pretty girls."

  "Hottest ass you've ever seen."

  "Cold beer and hot chicks!"

  "You're gonna enjoy this vacation, little privates, trust us. We've been coming here all war."

  But Jon was doubtful. The view out the window depressed him. He had never seen so much poverty.