by Riley Moreno
The one thing Lee does remember at the secret location of the facility is the smell that’s tampered with pollen that stung her eyes and made her nose itch. There was also less moisture in the leaves and plants.
And that comes to her suddenly: a suffocation, and a reminder that hay fever is more than just a state of mind. Lee sneezes gently and looks around to make sure nobody hears it. A few more sneezes and lengthy steps and Lee spots her first orange flower: the guzmania that spans in a small field of its own. With trees that have a palm-tree semblance. But Lee thinks she might be allergic to the guzmania and covers her nose as she picks them all before the darkness comes upon her fully, as she smells the unstable air and moisture that suggest a storm is coming.
It’s fitting for what is to come. But not for her being out here with one sleeveless top. And it’s still a sweaty kind of hot with mosquitos now buzzing and trying to attach themselves to her skin. Lee slaps them away as they come close to her ears and irritate her into a panic. They’re bigger than the normal sized pests as she goes to pick out a guzmania but ends up rising-and-jogging to avoid being blood sucked.
Lee goes on for twenty more yards, laying bouquets down and thinking maybe it was just a mirage and those two Americans never went down into the earth. A light rain drops now. And the ground becomes damp. Lee needs to hurry. So, she starts to take more than ten into her grasp and feels guilty for pulling out these stunners from the ground.
Pick-up... lay back down. Pick-up ... lay back down. Pick-up ... won’t budge. Won’t budge. Won’t ... Lee, after almost bashing her skull into a tree finds it. She had forgotten the sickly-thin red-barked tree because there was so many of them. Lee stands behind and yanks it up as the hatch door opens with a gentle creaaaaaakkkkkk that comes from something wooden. Lee sees the stairs and how down below is pitch dark.
Lee descends, closing the hatch door behind her, but worries about how dark it is down here. She counts more than fifteen steps before seeing a white glow coming from a small distance that she’ll need to walk. She loses her footing near the end, but she keeps afoot. Lee takes the path of the white glow, knocks into a few walls but has her hands out blindly to feel the way like a blind man.
Her phone has no signal whatsoever, but there’s enough to use her torchlight which will help after she nearly loses her foot that falls into a hall. It smells like oysters and mussels as if this was once an underwater cave. Speaking of water, she hears that running. Maybe it is a cave? When she gets to the white glow, she sees fireflies, thousands of them up high and it’s quite wondrous to see.
They almost light the entire underground, and good job it does, because without there bioluminescence, many would fall down the large ditch that has no bottom. Lee must be careful because the narrow footing that leads to the door has a large x marked on it and is on the other end.
Never a fan of heights, Lee does her best to not glare down there. It must be water, but still, she thinks of it as the dark abyss that gets her to the other side quickly with the suitcase in her hand. She rests it by her leg and notices the door has no handle. She gives it a push with both palms, and it doesn’t budge. She exclaims, “oooooeurghhhhh!” And still, it remains closed.
There’s no entry for a key that she scans the ground for. So, Lee decides to follow another path and see if it will take her anywhere.
...
Angelina had only ever seen the mines once when she tagged along with Hona who had the privilege of looking into employment rights for the workers who were working without contracts and a regular wage. The more you mine, the higher you earn per person. And some, due to being poor, would work until their hands bleed and their feet were a sooty black.
The conditions were extremely poor. Little water that was clean. Breaks were few or non-existent. And lack of sanitation meant men and women had little privacy to clean up and excrete when they needed to. Hona did his best, but little has changed except for waste buckets that are filthy, and barracks for workers who prefer to work a set period and go home with pay.
The dried earth is a sickly brown with wormholes that are accessible via ropes attached to a platform system, like a jerry-rigged oil system that needs manpower to level people down into the excavated holes. Angelina notices four of these around, as she sleeps next to a few women who work part-time but are exhausted and close to snoring. Most are not well, and Angelina can smell an abnormal stink in their breath and plenty of wheezing from being down in those ditches.
Alabastor has guards in tents with some on night watch. Angelina knows that tonight there will be no picture taking. It’s the first time anybody has tried since Mark, who was never able to get those pictures across the seas. In a few hours, many of these people plan to go on strike, but Diego needs to get more workers involved and bring them back to East Shanti, where they’ll stand before Felis and see if they get a reaction out of him.
It’s why Hona and Diego left with plenty of food and water carried by his rebels. They’ll need all the food they can get. Angelina hopes, that Camila will be amongst all this. She’s in hiding. They hope. Or dead ... but that’s a last resort. Everybody needs Camila alive. What she saw will be taken to her grave. That’s what they want. Angelina lays her head down on an uncomfortable pillow and pulls-up the sheet that gives her no warmth, closer to her chin as she tries to sleep.
But she’s worried for Lee and Darren. Hopes that whatever trials they face will grant them access back to their side of the map real soon. They’ve done more than they probably think. It might be small, scattered, and at times unclear. But Lee Coil and Darren have given Diego that right to get the word out and even uncover who the men on top are.
Angelina lets this thought be her sleeping potion. And then there is Sandra, her creative friend who’s always wanted to follow her good friend, Camila, is destined to be a great photography teacher. She’s got the eye and can make beauty out of the mundane that people face out here. There is hope for Torbelli. And Angelina can sleep to that. Yes, she can rest her troubled mind for now ... but she hears screams that wake more than one woman in the tent.
“What was that?” Angelina whispers to the women next to her who looks frightfully young to be working here.
“Worka. Anotha injury.” Her teeth are yellow and her eyes too.
“What will they do to help her?”
“They will go down into mine. Bring her up. And take her to doctor.”
Diego has managed to get a doctor down here. Before, they were driven back home to try and get themselves mended. Their compensation was a couple of weeks off. If they did not return, that would be it. And Hona didn’t know if there was any pay for the injured.
“Sleep. Angelina ... sleep.” The girl lies down again and soon is back to the land of zzzzzzzzzz. But Angelina can’t sleep. The screams of the woman are terrifyingly skin-crawling. She’s in pain and can’t stand it. A broken leg or arm... whatever it is, she’s crying and waking everybody up. They use stretchers, and Angelina, who’s peaking outside the tent to get a look, sees men being leveled down into the mine with one.
Some give a quick glance to Angelina and tell her to not worry. Sleep. Sleep. She does this to not disturb them. But there’s no more peace in her mind. Work like this is not fit for these people. Sleep does not come now. Angelina just lies awake. Hoping that no more screams will come.
...
Mark tells Darren to wait by the door as he scouts his home to see if any intruders have looted anything. Darren thinks it looks untouched. But maybe that’s the illusion they want to give. He knows how the calm before the storm rattles when one gets too comfortable with a situation. The laziness of getting complacent.
Darren wonders how Mark, who was going under the name of Paul, has lasted so long. There’s little electricity to be dispersed, so people use candles and keep one by the window to signify that they are home to avoid thefts. It’s an unsafe spider of alleys with two-story homes no bigger than sheds, and uglier too. And there’s no shortag
e of stray cats and dogs - with rowdy young rebels hanging around drinking and causing noise.
Darren checks the window more than once. The fourth time, he sees a few directly across from Mark’s home: smoking and spitting onto the floor. He douses the candle and moves away so his shadow won’t be visible for the boys who are searching around for something.
Mark’s living area is very compact. He has two countrified sofas the color of a light beige slanted on either side of the fireplace where the chimney is blocked. The roof is low, and the stairs are on the right side, with the one room up-top which is his sleeping area.
Mark’s time has been spent reading fiction with a few novels stacked on both seats. There are also more than a few SD cards lying in a silver tin, some USB sticks that still haven’t been used. Some storyboarding, couple of notebooks on the floor that are full of a blue biro.
Cups of tea that’s been there for far too long. A pair of old reeboks and candles bought in bundles.
The kitchen is a box that basically has a single tap over a shoddy stainless-steel bucket and a stove that is burnt in many places with one hob that needs lighting with the matches. There’s a window, but Mark has sealed it shut. Not much else ... as Darren sees packs of cheap noodles stuffed into some bags of rubbish.
Mark was able to have a bike in here that rests against the minimal space in the kitchen. And he hooked up a green piece of string; thick enough to hang his damp clothes that he washes with a wash board. His style is casual and I-don’t-care-if-match-or-not.
Mark comes down, “None of my stuff has been taken. I’m grateful ... what’s the matter?”
“Do you always get rebels directly across from your home?”
Mark gets down to his knees and keeps low as he journeys to the window. He lifts himself high enough to see. Darren is right, and they are looking directly at the home. But it could be nothing. He goes back in the same way he came, getting back to his feet when he reaches the kitchen. “Only once before.”
“And did anything happen?”
“I lit a candle. Tried to sleep. And heard attempts to break into my home. It’s common around here so nobody ever sleeps in peace.”
“Are they the same rebels that usually are around here?”
Come to think of it ... Mark hasn’t seen any other type of rebels. Except the black bandannas who are young boys nearing twenties, who rob for fun and sell it off. These guys are in white: plain white bandannas around their mouths. Clothes casually-similar to those of Peacock’s who are influenced by the hood gangsters of New York City.
“I haven’t seen them before. And I’m not sure it’s a coincidence that they are standing there. Do you think we were followed?”
“Only way we can be sure is to wait it out and see what they do.”
“Yeah. I got my rucksack that has everything inside upstairs under the bed. Got a gun with me too.”
“That’s good. Have you got extra ammo?”-
“Yes.”
“And what about your laptop?”
“It’s charged. But I won’t be able to get my contact until eight in the morning. It wouldn’t be safe to send anything to him until I know he’ll get it all done while I’m online. It’s too risky for him to do the same procedure at work.”
“Who is he? Can you tell me.”
“You already know him. It’s Saul.”
“Saul. Saul who works on my team, Saul?”
“Yes. He works two jobs. One you wouldn’t know about because he keeps it to himself.”
“Saul works for the N.O. news?”
“Yes. But like many, he doesn’t know how corrupt, behind the scenes it can be. And that’s why he’s willing to help me out. He’s a great guy –”
“He sure is. He’s been aiding me. And wants to do the same for Lee. They were friends.”
“Sounds fitting. I’ve heard of you both before all this happened. He spoke of you.”
“Saul needs to be careful. It’s a risky thing he’s doing. And if it falls on him, they’ll know instantly because it connects perfectly. Communication with me and Lee ... and then you.”
“Saul knows how to play the game well. It’s risky, but so is ...” Darren wants to go and sit down on the sofa, but he stops on noticing a new development outside the window: a sedan. But this one is registered with license plates. And out of it, steps Bennie. The great man himself, steps out the car, speaks with the rebels who point to Mark’s house, and then he comes over to the door with his driver.
“That’s Bennie.”
“We must’ve been followed, Mark.”
“Whose side is he on?”
“Alabastor’s. He knows you’re here.”
“Shit. What should I do?”
“We have to answer it. Hide upstairs. They might not have seen you come in. I’ll keep the story brief about Paul living here. Let’s see what he knows.”
Mark heads upstairs and Darren waits for the gentle knock that comes; knock-knock. And then answers it. Darren judges his surprise and it’s there. Bennie had not expected to see him. “Darren, well ain’t this odd.”
“Sure is. Even you being out here is a huge shock for me.”
“Promotion. Now running my own business.”
“Never took you for a businessman.”
“You have no idea. It’s amazing how people judge before they get to know.”
“Is that an accusation directed at me?”
“We’ve never seen through the same lenses. Me being here and looking so flash will have you boxing me into a corner.”
“I might not have liked your way of doing things. But you were never Lotan or Henny. That much is sure.”
“So, there was no hate?”
“I never hated you.”
“Good. Because that means I won’t have to make this look too aggressive. But know that them rebels, if it wasn’t for me coming back from where I did, were after the man inside here.”
“After who, Paul?”
“Yes. This Paul. Has been so close, yet so far. Is it Mark?”
“Can’t say. I got in here not too long and broke in.”
“Why?”
“I saw he was white. Isn’t that unusual for out here?”
“There hasn’t been a white man out here since the men-in-suits and Mark. I’m surprised this Paul didn’t raise more awareness from them.”
“What happens next, Bennie?”
“I came to warn him. But now you’re here and they are watching. They don’t want me here either, I can sense it with their hostility. Let him come with me, and I’ll keep him safe for now. Otherwise, they’ll take him to Alabastor. Them guys are on his payroll.
“You work for the guy –”
“I know. But I can make up a story to keep him satisfied that this white man is just a drifter. There have been plenty of those in the past.”
“He’s not here –”
“You’re lying Darren!”
“I’m not –”
“You are! And they’ll chop you up to get to him. What do you need? Proof that I’m not on their side?”
“Try me.”
“I know where Lee is. And what she’s going to deliver to Mark. She’s meant to find him. Lee is at the location of the underground facility where they’ll be making the money that will be used as the currency out here. There is only two that they want to certify illegally. I gave her a camera and she’s going to take pictures and deliver them to him.”
Mark hears this but stays put. Darren believes Bennie’s story, “Can you get them to leave?”
“I can. But they’ll be back.”
“It will give us time to chat. I believe your story.” Bennie goes over to the rebels who stiffen at Bennie’s approach. They stand intimidatingly, but Bennie being the strong-jawed-don’t-give-a-shit-talker is used to the unfriendliness. They give it some introspection and then go off the way they came, down the narrow lane.
Bennie gives a word to his driver who reverses and then takes a
left down one of the spider’s legs that are spread out. Bennie comes inside and takes a seat. Mark still stays put as Darren sits on the other sofa. “Is Lee safe?”
“Still wanting to be her hero, huh?”
“Just answer the question, Bennie –”
“Answer me this though, is it true you stayed single all this time because of Lee Coil?”
“I’ve dated. Not that it’s any of your business. And why? Are you hoping for her to turn your way?”
“You’d be perfect for her. If you can understand Lee Coil and still feel that love, then I applaud you very much. Not many would stick around.”
“Lee is special.”
“She is. And when this is done, I’ll ask that you get her the fuck away from here.”
“Trust me. But what do you need Mark for?”
“The contact. He can broadcast these pictures via a major news channel like he did. And that will get this going.”
“What happened with Eric? And why are you working for Alabastor?” Darren needs some loose ends fixing up.
“Eric was N.O. and running backdoor operations behind restaurants where they were sending him money that would be transferred to Shaka via a plane to Torbelli. He also had a hand in the delivery of fresh produce that would come over, as well as parts to supply unmarked and tax-free planes to keep it non-suspicious. So, when the supply was delivered, what would go back is the funds to Shaka that was sorted by the thousands of Eric’s workers.
But he got scared. Because Henny and Co. were closing in on the operations and had already singled out another one who was placed in jail for other crimes. Eric was killed because he squealed and wanted to be protected. They got to him.”
“Is there any proof of that?”
“Phone calls. Not to me. But an associate who was assigned to the task of killing him.”
“And Henny? He’s N.O., right?”
“On the wrong side of it, yes.”
“And all this is N.O.’s idea?”
