El Sombra

by Al Ewing

  The pack on El Sombra's back was calibrated to support one person, and, unlike the General's, it was incapable of supporting two easily. El Sombra felt the momentum he'd picked up from his headlong dive quickly running out as they swept upwards, passing the General once again as he tugged fruitlessly at the fused sword and gun.

  "Hold on." The masked man spoke softly, unbuckling the pack from his back at the apex of their upward flight, and then, in one sure movement, quickly swinging it around the two of them and locking the strap around Carina's waist, holding her with one arm as he secured the shoulder straps with the other. There was only a slight lurch, and within seconds, Carina went from clutching El Sombra to keep herself from falling to being the one holding him up. It was a welcome change, although she was still trying to recover from the shock of her earlier near death experience. Thus, when he chose that moment to kiss her softly, his lips finding hers with a sure confidence that would have shocked his old self, she did not return the gesture, but only blinked in stunned surprise. Events were, in all senses, moving slightly too quickly for her to be comfortable.

  "See you later." El Sombra smiled genially, and let go, tumbling away from her as she floated up into the sky. Carina cried out, dumbfounded at the act, and reached after him as a reflex action, before closing her eyes to avoid the sight of the man she had come to trust falling to his death on the dust below.

  El Sombra looked at her, wind whipping at his hair, and grinned. She was in for a shock.

  Below them both, the Generaloberst continued to tug at the sword embedded in the pistol. The pistol might still be of use at short range, and the sword had a keen edge, but fused together in their current manner they were little more than a club. Finally, with a grunt of triumph, he yanked the damaged pistol free of the blade, looking around to see where El Sombra had gone in the few seconds he had managed to distract him.

  El Sombra slammed into the Generaloberst with all his weight, knocking the air from the other man. The sword went flying from Eisenberg's hand to tumble through space, finally embedding itself in the hard ground beneath them. The remains of the pistol, however, became a crude bludgeoning weapon as the General smashed the butt of the gun hard into the side of El Sombra's head.

  "Let go of me!" he snarled, spittle flying over his chin as his face contorted into an expression of pure, unfettered hate. In the depths of his rage, he came close to losing control of the wings, and the combined weight of the two men caused them to veer crazily across the sky, missing the rooftops by inches as they swooped and soared. Again and again, the General brought the gun down, pistol-whipping the masked man brutally. Carina had been forgotten, the survival of the Project had been forgotten, even his dead son was forgotten as every part of Eisenberg's being focussed on one goal - the brutal murder of the enemy who had destroyed everything he had once taken pride in.

  El Sombra attempted to block the blows from the pistol butt without letting go of the General, but there was already blood coursing into his eyes from a serious gash in his forehead and he was having difficulty seeing through the film of red that covered his vision. Desperately, he reached up to grip Eisenberg's wrist, stopping the gun butt from smashing into his skull yet again, pushing the arm back as Eisenberg roared at him like a maddened bear. Then he snapped his head forward. Hard. The masked man's forehead slammed into the bridge of General Eisenberg's already broken nose, smashing it flat against the face. At the same time, El Sombra twisted the General's wrist, forcing the fingers open and letting the broken Luger drop down into the burnt-out remains of the schoolhouse far below.

  The General spat blood and his eyes burned, a savage, bloodshot glare filled with the utmost loathing. Cursing, he brought his knee up hard into the masked man's groin. El Sombra gasped, clutching at the General as he felt his stomach turn over in that very personal agony, and his weight shifted the wings once again, sending them diving down in a wide turn towards the Great Square. Below them, the workers looked up from their duties at the air show put on seemingly for their benefit. The statue had already been dismantled and was being carted away from the waist down. Now all that was left was Hitler's torso, the stern stone head gazing up into the sky above, and the arm raised heavenward in salute. Those few guards left to oversee the operation shouted abuse at the workers, trying to force them to continue, before they were distracted by what was going on above their heads. Was that really their Generaloberst, in full dress uniform, battling like some demented beast as he swung madly through the clear sky? What in heaven's name was going on?

  El Sombra punched upwards, his fist cracking against Eisenberg's jaw, knocking his head back and loosening a tooth. In response, the Generaloberst let loose a slavering cry of animal hate and wrapped his hands around the masked man's throat. He began to squeeze with a strength born of madness, gripping hard, choking the life from the man he hated most in the world. There was nothing in his eyes now that resembled the man he had been. The cold air of command had been burned away in the blaze of his fury, and the glitter of his ice-chip eyes now suggested a psychopath rather than a tactician.

  El Sombra gritted his teeth, grabbing hold of the General's wrists and shifting his weight. Though unable to turn his head under Eisenberg's merciless assault, he was nonetheless able to judge their location in the Square by the position of the surrounding buildings.

  They were nearing the most sacred spot in all of old Pasito. The spot where his brother's blood had stained the ground, where his curse had been uttered, where El Sombra had been born in a night of fire and blood. It was where El Sombra would finally die.

  But not before he'd done what he was born for.

  The masked man grinned even as he was throttled by the General, continuing to shift his weight subtly, to steer the two men through the warm air. The Great Square had gone through many changes since his brother's death, but he remembered what it was that stood on that spot now. It was a great stone shoulder, connected to a long arm and a flat palm raised in eternal salute, up into the sky, like an obelisk, or a monolith to mark the dead.

  Heraclio, he thought. I came back. I came back to fight them. And I won.

  You can rest now.

  He let go of the General's arms, dangling limp from Eisenberg's grip, and then brought his fists up, the knuckles of his index fingers raised to jab hard into the undersides of the elbows. A sharp stinging pain flashed up the General's forearms, into his hands, and the fingers lost their grip, letting the masked man plummet down towards the unyielding stone beneath.

  General Eisenberg, the Iron Mountain, looked up to see the flat stone palm hurtling towards him at incredible speed, and he mouthed the first thing that came into his mind.

  "Heil Hitl-"

  He smacked into the stone hand like a bird flying into a windowpane. The impact pulped his face and cracked his skull open like an eggshell.

  El Sombra saw the impact, and felt a great sense of peace descend on him. The Ultimate Reich was finished. The head had been cut off, and now the body would die. He had finally won.

  He smiled, feeling the wind whipping through his hair.

  Then his back smacked hard into cold stone and everything went black.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The End, And After

  Djego opened his eyes.

  He was in a comfortable bed in an unfamiliar room. The walls were painted a soothing shade of peach, the sheets were clean and fresh, the sun was shining and the general atmosphere was one of relaxation, rest and well-being. It made him nervous.

  As his awareness slowly returned to him he found himself looking at a painting on the opposite wall. It was a picture of what appeared to be a group of dogs, sitting on chairs around a table as though they were men, in a room with ugly blue wallpaper. The dogs were playing a game of cards. One was smoking a pipe. Another had a cigar. One was cheating, an ace held in a paw under the table. All of them had expressions of relaxed joviality, which sat well with their canine features. The whole effect was, quite naturall
y, unsettling and terrifying to Djego, and he was about to bolt out of the bed and try his luck in a fall from the window when he became aware that there was someone sitting at his bedside.

  "It's called A Friend In Need. A man named Cassius Coolidge painted it some hundred and thirty years ago, and somehow it found its way into the hands of the Reich. You wouldn't believe some of the treasures we've found since they left." The voice was warm, rich and reassuring, with a soft musical lilt to it. Hearing it was like sitting next to a roaring fire on a cold and lonely day, and Djego sank back into the pillows, breathing a slight sigh of relief. He looked towards the voice, heart lifting as the name came back to him from far away.

  Carina smiled.

  "Welcome back, Djego. You were out for a long time."

  Djego's hand lifted to his face, and he gently felt under one eye. There was nothing there. Where his fingers would once have touched the bloodstained fabric of his brother's wedding-sash, now all they touched was his skin.

  "The mask..."

  "It's safe. And the sword is too. They're both locked up safe and sound in the cupboard over there." Djego looked at her, brows furrowed. She took a deep breath, and carried on. "And... that's where they're staying. You've been through a lot, Djego, and I don't..." She blushed, smiling at the ludicrousness of what she was about to say. "I don't want you leaping out of the window and running off to hit somebody. There's no need for that anymore and... I wanted to meet you. The real you. I wanted to see the real man underneath that piece of cloth."

  Djego nodded slowly. "... okay."

  He felt naked without the mask, exposed. El Sombra was gone, and there was only Djego left. But somehow... the sky was not falling. Carina was smiling at him, she was taking care of him. He attempted a smile, and it felt comfortable. Perhaps... perhaps it would be enough to be Djego, for a while. The hated name did not have the same power when it came from her lips. It sounded like the name a man might have, instead of a dog. And he had a sense that he would not need the other name - that other man - for a long time. He looked up at her, groping for something to say, to cover the silence of the moment.

  "Where am I?"

  "A guest room in the Red Dome. We moved you here as soon as you could be moved. It's a lovely place, once you get past all the swastikas. We're going to keep it standing." She smiled softly, as he groped for another question.

  "How... how long was I out?" He smiled sheepishly up at her, and something in the sheer mundanity of his own responses pleased him. Djego was beginning to register the aching of his muscles and bones, but still, he felt good. He felt like... Djego was someone he could live with now. Someone he could live with being. Still, there was a nagging itch at the back of his skull, a barely perceptible tingle.

  Carina smiled. "About seven weeks, on and off. You came out of it long enough to tell us where you were keeping all the guns, which was nice of you, as it meant we could fight back properly instead of just hurling stones at them. And occasionally you'd start shouting about the bastards... but once they'd gone -"

  Djego sat up, staring uncomprehendingly. "They're gone? You drove them out?"

  "We drove them out." She smiled. "You'd killed so many of them, and then the General, and his son, and the High Command... their nerve broke, and ours... you should have seen it. When the general's head splattered like that, the crowd just roared. There were only a couple of guards armed with little pistols to keep them at work. They were lynched. By the time I got back to the ground, it was open warfare. Anybody who'd even thought about taking a hand against the bastards was hurling rocks and beating on them with hammers, and the brainwashed ones who didn't want to make trouble were just hiding in their homes."

  Djego was shocked. This was what El Sombra had wanted, but the thought now made him feel sick. "Oh my God. How many died?"

  Carina shook her head. "Not many at all, considering. Fourteen people, thank the Lord no children. But the soldiers... their hearts just weren't in it, like I said. There wasn't any chain of command anymore. It was just the grunts left, kids and old men who were only there because they'd been told to be. When we attacked them with the guns towards the end, they scattered like rabbits, and they always used to shout the same thing in German - 'I was only following orders! I was only following orders!' Isn't that funny?"

  Djego rubbed his forehead. It seemed as though he should be able to know what the German for that was, but somehow he couldn't remember. "I suppose."

  Carina sighed, reaching out to tease her fingers through his hair absently. "Anyway. They fought a holding action for a couple of weeks, trying to keep us away from their supply depots, but when we took hold of the guns... well, there and then the orders must have come from across the sea. They ran away, Djego. They're gone."

  Djego was silent for a very long time. He stared at the picture of the dogs playing cards, and something uneasy stirred in him. "Gone. Gone across the sea." He shook his head, as though clearing it, and then turned to Carina again. "So what happens now?"

  Carina sighed. "I'm in charge. Or rather, a committee that I'm part of is in charge. They didn't leave us any infrastructure to work with, unfortunately. We were mindless cattle to them, they weren't worried about providing things like hospitals and - well, you saw what happened to the school."

  Djego nodded. Once, mention of what had happened at the schoolhouse would have made his blood boil in his veins. Now, that was someone else's anger. Djego only felt sadness that so much time and so many lives had been wasted for so little reason. "You said there were people who'd been brainwashed... what happened to them?"

  Carina was silent for a long moment, then she stood up and moved to the window, looking out. "It took them a while. It was only when the bastards were finally gone for good that they came out. They were so scared... I think they really believed that they were going to be taken in the night at any moment. Some of them still do." She shook her head. "After nine years of this... some people just don't have any hope any more. The best we can do is give them work. You know that some of them are building a statue of you?"

  Djego looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "A statue of El Sombra?"

  "It's all they know how to do. They're incompetent and unqualified for everything else, but if I don't give them work, they just sit in their homes and have panic attacks. So they're working on a big statue of you." She smiled wryly. "Hopefully, once they're done, I'll have weaned them on to farming. They do have a good work ethic."

  "I'm amazed they're doing anything at all that might offend their beloved Führer." Djego's voice was tinged with a deep bitterness. It offended him that his town should have been brought so close to the brink of destruction by a little man, far across the sea, a man he'd never even met. The itch in the back of his skull intensified. "How do you get them to do anything you say?"

  There was a soft chuckle from the doorway. "You have me to thank for that." The voice was soft and earthy, with a pleasant rasp in it that made all the difference to the doughy, tremulous tone it had had before. That was the doing of the bullet that had partially collapsed the owner's left lung. The other had entered his back between two of his ribs, miraculously passing through without harming any of his internal organs in the process and lodging in the floor of the Church.

  Rafael Contreras, who had once worn another name that was now mercifully forgotten, stood in the doorway, with tea.

  "Father!" Carina's voice carried a familiar note of anger, but it was anger born of concern, and Rafael cherished it. "Father, what are you doing? Give me that, you're going to hurt yourself!" She took the tray of tea from him and set it on the side table, turning to Djego with a tight smile. "He has to do everything around here. I have to keep reminding him he had a serious trauma. He could have died. You could have died!" She turned to her father again, shaking her head in disbelief.

  "What happened to you?" Djego was taken aback by the change in Master Plus. It was as though he'd become a completely different man but then, he understood
how such changes could happen. Again, he felt a nagging feeling at the back of his skull. But the bastards were gone.

  They were gone.

  "Eisenberg shot him twice in the back and then left him to bleed on the floor. He could have died; he would have, if I hadn't gone back for him. I had to tear the wedding dress up for bandages."

  Rafael smiled. "The best use that could have been made of it. It's a good thing you knew a little about how to deal with something like that."

  "You were the one who let me read so much." She smiled, but there was an edge to the banter. Carina and her father were on good terms, better than they had been since she was a little girl, but there would always be that edge there, an area of darkness that he could never atone for, and she could never forgive, no matter how much they both tried. Carina quickly turned back to Djego. "Books on first aid and medicine. I wanted to be able to help if anything happened to him." She winced, and Rafael looked away. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I could help him, that's all that matters. And I could help you too."

  Djego raised an eyebrow.

  "That fight... the torture... the fall," she shook her head. "You came close, Djego. I thought you were going to die. To have you talking again after just a few weeks..." She smiled, reaching to take his hand and squeeze. "You're a tough guy."

  Djego shook his head, looking up into her eyes. "You must be thinking of somebody else. Although you did keep your promise. You saved me, Carina." He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

  Carina laughed. "I haven't saved you yet, my friend. But I will. Trust me. And now, I have to get my stupid father to sit down before he injures himself. Enjoy the tea."

  She stood up, and gently guided Rafael out of the room and down the stairs. Djego was left to lie on the bed, propped up on the pillows and sipping the tea reflectively.