“I heard about something like this right after the plague hit.”
“What happened?”
“For some reason, a lot of Americans thought they would be safer in Mexico, and there was a huge surge in border crossings. Toward the end of the second day of the outbreak, I saw a news report that warned people to not attempt to cross the border. But, I never heard about this roadblock or anything else like this.”
Stryker got out of the vehicle carrying his M-4 and walked to the line of Humvees. More skeletal remains were scattered around these vehicles, and Stryker saw piles of shell casings that clearly were from the big .50s.
He walked to the first line of cars. They were riddled with bullet holes. The same was true of the vehicles farther back. What had happened here was pretty obvious, and it was a story that told itself without need of explanation.
Erin joined him, and they both examined the scene for quite some time.
“This was a massacre,” she finally whispered.
“Yes, it was.”
“Why did they think they would be safer in Mexico?”
“I can only guess.”
“Give it a shot.”
“We were far more mobile than the population here, so my guess is it took longer to spread on this side of the border and, at least at first, it looked much worse in the States than it did here. So, people fled this way because it looked less threatening.”
“That’s pretty irrational,” Erin said sadly.
“It might seem so. But, this is twenty-twenty hindsight. At the time, people were panicked and desperate. Remember, you were locked in a dorm room and were relatively safe compared to people that were going to work, shopping, traveling and around other people. They were watching loved ones and neighbors get sick and die in a matter of a few days.”
“We didn’t have a television in our room.”
“I know. You told me. What was going on at the time was the media reporting around the clock, and every ten minutes they broadcasted another report from in front of another hospital parking lot filled with the sick and dying. It was a circus, and they did nothing to throw water on the flames. People were terrified, and scared people do irrational things, because what they are facing seems even worse since the news from the States was ceaseless. After two days, the cable T.V. went out and I guess the candle was pretty much snuffed out by that time.
“Were you scared?”
“I didn’t care at the time.”
“That’s hard to believe.” Erin wore a doubtful expression as she studied his face.
“It’s true. I have never just given up like I did then. It was the worst time of my life and it took months to get my head screwed on again. I went through all the stages, including denial, that you go through when something catastrophic happens.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.”
“There’s no point in hanging around here. Let’s get moving.”
“What I still don’t understand is why the plague didn’t spread as fast here as it did fifty miles away,” Erin said. “I get the mobility thing, but it still doesn’t seem likely to me.”
Stryker thought it over for a moment. “More Americans traveled by air, in percentage terms, then any other nationality. We have more public transportation than anywhere in the world, with the exception of Europe and Japan, and the east coast of the U.S. has some of the highest subway use in the world.”
“Why does all that matter?”
“Try to imagine an airplane that is full. Two hundred people are on that plane, and they are all going to different cities in different countries. Since the pathogen was airborne, by the time they get off the plane, they are all infected. Then, as they walk through the airport, they infect everyone around them. Then they make a connection to the next flight, and all those people get infected.” Stryker paused. “The people that got the disease in the airport also get on planes, and the same sequence happens. It just continues to multiply until the plague is everywhere and the only difference is that it takes longer in some places than others, but not by much.
“Go on.”
“Well, they all eventually get home and they have three kids that go to three schools. Each of those schools has 600 students and they all go home and infect their parents. The following day, those parents go to work and infect everyone in the workplace, and those people go home and infect their kids. Those kids go to school and infect all the other students.”
“Jesus.” Erin took a deep breath.
“Now, add subways, rail and buses to that. And remember that everyone one of these people is a human vector that will infect one hundred percent of everyone who rides with them, or is even in the same room.”
“And Mexico gets a temporary pass because their people aren’t as rich, they don’t travel as much, and the schools and workplaces are smaller.”
“Yes.”
Erin and Stryker looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Erin looked away, and then back.
“Where do you think it started?”
“Probably an international hub airport somewhere in Europe.”
“Why?”
“Because it seemed to hit everywhere at once and, while we travel more by air than any other country, two European airports have flights to almost every country in the world and they also served as hubs for anyone traveling to smaller cities or countries.”
“What airports?”
“Frankfurt, Germany, and Heathrow in London. Europe and North America have the highest traffic of any two continents in the world, and with the hubs in Europe, you can virtually guarantee a worldwide pandemic in a matter of days.”
“You said cable T.V. went out after only two days?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean anything?”
“I’ve thought about that a lot and I don’t understand it. I watched news reports from South Africa, Rio, Paris, China, India, and the Middle East for those two days and it hit everywhere at once. That’s what seemed odd to me. Logic would dictate that it would not be all over the world in that small lapse of time, yet it was. The reports I saw from Mexico happened on the same day as people started dying in San Diego, but the situation was not portrayed as being anywhere near as dire as it was in the U.S., so I attribute it to the stuff we talked about before, but I still have no idea how it popped up everywhere else at the same time.”
“It does seem odd.”
“More than a little odd in my book.”
“We’re never going to know, are we?”
“No.”
“It might be just as well if we don’t.”
They both looked back at the carnage they recently passed, and Erin shook her head with a sad expression.
“Nothing to do about it now,” Stryker said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get going.”
They got back into the Humvee and continued south, with Erin looking over her shoulder a few times, her expression grim. They crossed back to the southbound lane, from habit more than anything, and started to see houses ahead.
They passed a sigh that said “Playa de Rosario” and slowed. The homes to the right were large and stately, and all had views of the beach. It was an island of wealth surrounded by a sea of poverty and despair. Stryker glanced to the west side of the road. It was covered with modest homes, some of which had junked cars in the front yard, and were surrounded by tire repair shops, gas stations, and small convenience stores.
“That’s probably where a lot of the cars we just passed were headed.” He nodded toward the beach homes.
“Why is that?”
“They were mostly owned by Americans who lived in San Diego. They could get a beach house here for a lot less than they could in the States and it was so close that a lot of them spent weekends here. So, small colonies of Americans bought lots on the beach, mostly in gated communities and these were their vacation homes.”
“I’m not sure I would want to buy a home in Mexico,” Erin replie
d. “It seems like a bad place to make a big investment.”
“Well, the Mexican government outlawed home ownership by foreigners on beachfront property, so these folks all bought ninety-nine year leases for the land and built the homes on it.”
“So, they didn’t actually own the land?”
“No.”
“Again, it seems dumb to me. Why would you go to the expense of building a big posh home when you don’t own the land it sits on?”
“The leases were transferable to the next owners and the clock starts over again every time it sells, so essentially it’s not an issue for the homeowners.”
“That is some weird logic.”
“It’s government stuff. The Mexican government wanted the investment, but got a lot of push back from locals who thought they were selling off the most valuable property in the country, so the compromise was to lease the land so they could say it wasn’t actually sold.”
“Not like we would ever resort to that kind of machination.” Erin smirked.
They passed by the subdivision and the highway moved closer to the ocean. High rise resorts and hotels appeared in the distance, dotting the beach front, and they passed by several American fast food franchises and a few local restaurants with empty parking lots, before entering the main part of the city.
The beach side of the road was still filled with large expensive homes, and the western side was covered with smaller shack-like residences.
They drove on in silence for a few minutes, before Erin asked, “Do you think Blaine and Elle will leave and go back to Portland?”
Stryker’s pause was long, and he clearly was giving it careful thought.
“They might,” he finally said. “Blaine had never been wounded before, and that does play with your mind. He’s a good fighter, but the first time you really get hurt messes with your head, and you doubt your ability to stay in the fight, or even your desire to be in the fight.”
“I’ve never heard you call him by his first name.”
The pause before Stryker spoke was lengthy and his expression seemed to change several times before he answered.
“Well, things are different for professional soldiers and marines. It’s very different.”
“Explain.”
“Most non-career soldiers and marines come in and rotate out in a few years. For those of us who make it a career, it’s not the same. We do multiple combat tours, and it is not a bonding experience in the same way; you know men are going to die in your unit over time. So, the name tag thing is a means of distancing yourself from the men you fight with. Everyone uses the name on your blouse, and that is your last name. It’s sort of like you’re not a person, but a body behind the shirt that is replaceable by the next name that comes up on the next blouse that rotates into your unit.”
“That is seriously sad.”
“Combat has a way of bringing men together, but it also makes them hold each other at a distance. It’s a very unnatural thing to do, and it distorts all sorts of emotions that most people feel. I think that’s why most people in civilian life have a hard time understanding combat vets. There is no comparison to normal life.”
“Did you ever talk to anybody about the actual fighting?”
“Not in any detailed way. I did in the abstract with other marines and soldiers, but the details of what it is like would make most people see you as a monster and want you to just go away.”
“What are the details?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do.”
“Well, imagine calling in an air strike and watching as women and children are blown to bits, but you have no choice because the terrorists are using them as human shields. Is that enough?”
“No, I want to hear it all.”
“There’s a reason why combat vets don’t discuss this stuff with civilians.”
“You’re trying to protect us, I guess.” Erin looked away.
“There are some things that really shouldn’t be known about and should have never been seen. We vets very carefully construct a brick wall between us and that experience. We build it, brick-by-brick, sometimes over a period of years. The vets you see on the news that eat their weapons, or do something else hideous, never built that wall, and it ended up costing them and their loved ones.” Stryker glanced at Erin.
She returned his look with one of open curiosity. “And?”
“If one brick comes out of that wall, the whole thing could crumble apart and we would not only be exposed, but we would open a portal to a world that shouldn’t even exist for those around us. There are some things that are better left unsaid.”
“So, you’re not saying any more?”
“I know you are curious and I don’t blame you for it. It’s no different than slowing down on a freeway to try and figure out how the crash happened when you see the flashing lights on the ambulance. But people don’t get out of their cars and go examine the mangled bodies if the first responders are already there. They know that’s best left to people who are trained to deal with it.”
Stryker glanced away. “I had a friend once who was an EMT. He lasted about a year and went and sold cars for a living.”
“What happened?”
“He rolled up on a 911 call and went in a house where a mother had killed her two-year-old daughter, then ate the gun. He dealt with that as best he could, but you could tell it really bothered him. A few days later he got a call to the scene of a car accident. The dead person at the scene was his brother and it was really ugly.”
“Jesus,” Erin whispered.
“That was it for him, and he quit. Imagine that he describes those two scenes to his wife or loved one. Is that something they really need to know, or images they want to live with?”
“I guess not.”
“Let this one go and trust me when I say my way is better.”
“I guess this discussion is over.”
“I’m not going to engage in any more war porn,” Stryker said with a tired look.
“That’s fine.”
Stryker’s jaw muscle was twitching and Erin knew enough about him to let the subject drop.
They passed by another commercial area filled with dance clubs, bars, and more fast food joints. Stryker glanced around and a smile came to his face.
“What’s that about?” Erin asked.
“Just a memory of coming down here when we got out of boot camp and going to the dance bars and watching all the nutty American college students doing shots and getting shit-faced. This was a giant party town for spring break and holidays, and this place made Las Vegas look like Eden, Texas.”
“Why here?”
“Well, it was close to the border and hotel rooms, food and booze were really cheap compared to beach towns in the States.”
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster with teenagers.” Erin grinned at that thought.
“I always wondered what the Mexicans thought of us when that was the only experience they had with Americans. They must have thought we were a nation of drunken children of privilege who came down here to do cultural tourism and rub shoulders with the poor people.”
They drove by yet another gas station with a sign that said “PEMEX.”
“Is that the word for gas?” Erin pointed at the green sign in front of the station.
“No, it was the Mexican national oil company. PEMEX means ‘Petroleum of Mexico’ in English. They had a monopoly on the production, sales and distribution of petroleum products in the country.”
“This is kinda fun.” Erin said. “I’m learning a lot of Spanish.” She thought for a moment. “I need to learn some important phrases.”
“Like what?”
“How about, ‘I surrender’?”
“I wouldn’t know that one.” It was a dry reply.
“I didn’t think you would.”
Stryker glanced around as they passed through the plaza in the center of town, which was lined with churches on both sides of the
road. A large cathedral sat in the center of the plaza.
“Why are there so many churches?”
“This part of the Baja was administered by the Catholic Church after the original exploration of the peninsula. There was a lot of competition between the Jesuits, the Franciscans, and the Dominican orders. They all built churches and chapels to try to win over the locals, but in the end, the Dominicans won and ended up as the overseers of this part of the Baja. The cathedral was the proof of that; it was built by that order, and eventually they came to be the dominant branch of the church that governed this town.”
“But the other churches survived.”
“Well, the Spanish were brutal, but were willing to take converts of any ilk, so the subordinate churches still remained, although they are not as well attended.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” Erin asked.
“I used to vacation here.”
“Most people don’t spend their vacations learning about the churches in the places they visit.”
“Call me weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“I know.”
“Seriously, how do you know this stuff?”
“Well, I’m a Texan and grew up with Mexicans on the ranch. When I visited here, I was naturally curious about the history and culture, and I just spent some time talking to people and trying to understand the place. It’s not rocket science. Texans and Mexican share a pretty rich and interesting history.”
“They did kill a bunch of you.”
“Yes, but we did take their land and, I might point out, we won in the end with no help from anybody else.”
Stryker examined the plaza. It was small by most standards, but the buildings and layout was a template for every colonial town in the country. The structures were adobe and not the cheap stucco over framing type that dominated the construction style in the southwestern United States. These were constructed from hand-made bricks, formed from clay, straw, and water and allowed to bake to a diamond-like hardness under the desert sun. The forms the blocks cured in were coated with cooking oil to ensure that the bricks came out with uniformity and without flaws.
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