“Do me a favor, Escobedo. Give me some warning if you’re planning to walk on me.”
Carmen shook her head. “I’m not thinking about it.”
“Even though I’m not your type?”
“I’m not that woman anymore.”
“Not even close, thank god,” Garrett murmured and kissed her. Carmen smothered her surprise at Garrett kissing her in public and let herself enjoy it. Before she could respond properly, he let her go. “You’re on sentry duty in an hour. Get some food. You’ll have time to eat it before heading for the rail line.”
Carmen scowled. “Yes, boss.”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘sir’?” he asked, with a smile.
She glared harder. “I noticed you didn’t put yourself on the schedule.” The watch duty over the rail line had swiftly become the most hated duty in the camp. It was monotonous. Garrett had reduced the shifts down to four hours apiece and two people at a time, to keep each other alert.
“Someone has to lead,” he replied, standing up.
“Apparently not by example.”
“That last word of yours is going to get you in trouble, Escobedo,” he said as he walked away.
“Too late, Garrett!” she shot back.
* * * * *
It was another stiflingly hot day. Carmen settled her back against a tree and looked up at the sky overhead, which she could just glimpse through the tree tops. It was a washed out blue and there were flecks of cloud across it that made her think of fish scales.
As the four hours wound on, the fish scales grew in number and the blue disappeared. It grew even hotter.
There wasn’t a breath of wind. Nothing moved among the trees, not even cicadas. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath.
Carmen didn’t sit down, because sitting would let her relax and that would decrease her alertness. Instead, she moved restlessly along a small track she had made, six feet inside the tree line and parallel to the rail line. Back and forth along the track. Sometimes she rested by leaning against the trees, but otherwise, she walked.
Archie was somewhere on the other side of the line. She wondered if he had fallen asleep, because she hadn’t heard a whisper from him in nearly three hours.
She halted as something pricked her attention and stood listening. Had she imagined it?
Your instincts know more than you do. Listen to them. Garrett’s voice, from a long ago training session.
The thick foliage among the trees would muffle sound, yet Carmen knew she had heard something. She checked carefully in both directions along the line, then stepped out into the open. The line here was built up with rock chips underneath the wooden ties. It sat about three feet higher than the soft loam where she stood. The trees had been cleared for six feet on either side of the line, making a long funnel through the forest. Sound would carry better in the funnel.
She dropped her chin and narrowed her eyes, waiting for the sound again. It had been at the edges of her hearing…
“Carmen!” Archie whispered, from the other side of the track.
“Shhh.”
He stepped out into the open, as she was and rested his rifle butt on his hip. “What are you doing?” he demanded, keeping his voice down.
Carmen lifted her head. “I think something is coming.”
“A train?” He cocked his head and listened, then shook it. “I don’t hear anything. Nothing at all. Not even mosquitos.”
“It’s too hot for mosquitos.” She rested her knee against the tie closest to her, then leaned down and pressed her ear against the rail.
The rail was vibrating. It was faint, but it was there.
Carmen straightened up again. “A train,” she said, her heart thudding. It wasn’t a scheduled train. The next expected train was tomorrow.
Insurrectos.
Archie bent and pressed his big hand against the rail. “A train,” he confirmed. “You’ve got the phone.”
Carmen pulled the phone out of the pocket on her thigh and hit the speed dial. It was a stolen phone and the phone on Garrett’s desk was a burner phone.
He answered immediately. “Carmen.”
“Train,” she said. “Unscheduled.”
“We’re coming.” He disconnected.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket and looked at Archie. “How fast can you chop trees? I figure we have about five minutes. One or two more, if we’re lucky.”
“The others won’t get here in five, not even with the jeep,” Archie said.
“I know. We have to stop the train by ourselves. Trees on the line will do it, if they’re big enough. There’s an axe in the stash behind the tree.”
Archie took off running. For a big man, he moved fast. He was back with the axe inside twenty seconds. Carmen patted a tree. “This one,” she declared.
Archie handed her his rifle and hefted the axe. “You watch for the train. Take out the driver. That’ll slow them even more.”
Carmen hefted the rifle. “I’m better with a handgun.”
Archie chopped. He seemed to know what he was doing. He angled the blade and cut a broad vee into the trunk. It was going fast. Bits of wood flew as he hacked.
Carmen rested her boot on the rail. Through her foot, she could feel the vibrations. They were stronger now. She looked down the line. About a quarter mile down, the track curved to the north. Depending on how fast the train was moving, she would have a long time to take aim. Several seconds at least.
Now she could hear the clack of ties and the low murmur of the engine.
“Soon,” she warned Archie.
He didn’t answer. He kept swinging the axe.
Carmen waited tensely, her heart racing. If Garrett and the others didn’t get here in time, it was going to be down to her and Archie to stop this train. Nemesis had been clear. Nothing could go through.
“Move out of the way,” Archie yelled, as the tree cracked and bent forward as if it was tired. It fell so the fine branches and leaves at the top of the tree covered the track.
“That’s not going to stop the train,” Carmen said. “We need the trunk across the rails.”
“Yep.” Archie was already positioning himself to chop at the opposite side of the trunk. Big splinters stuck up around the edges where the trunk had cracked. He tackled the section of the trunk that was still whole. The blade bit deep.
Carmen stared at the far end of the track, where it curved out of sight. Had her estimation been wrong? Or had time slowed to a snail’s pace?
Or both?
She dithered, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavily. If the train took longer to get here than she had estimated, that was a good thing. Archie chewed through the trunk with the efficiency of a chain saw, although he had a way to go yet and they still had to reposition the tree once it separated from the stump.
Also, the slower the train was going, the more efficiently the tree would halt the engine. If she had picked too thin a tree, the heavy engine would roll right over the trunk, breaking it into kindling. A bigger tree would have taken too long to chop through. Archie was strong, but he was still only human.
If. If, if, if…The possibilities and outcomes roiled through her, making her belly cramp and her chest ache.
Why hadn’t they thought of this possibility days ago and had sawn logs ready to roll onto the track?
The sound of the approaching train grew louder. The rails groaned as the weight of the train vibrated along the tracks.
Archie let out a shout of satisfaction as the tree shifted and the trunk flopped to the ground.
Carmen slung the rifle over her shoulder, clambered over the line and picked up branches in her hands, ready to pull like crazy.
Archie picked up the raw end of the trunk and nodded.
She pulled. The tree was heavier than she had thought it would be. She thrust her boot up against the end of a tie and pushed with her leg for better leverage. It moved sluggishly. Archie was red in the face and with a curse, he
dropped the trunk and stepped back, his chest heaving.
“Again!” Carmen called.
He wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his teeshirt, then bent and picked up the trunk once more.
Carmen threw her entire bodyweight into dragging the thing backward. It moved a few inches.
“Again,” she called and heaved.
A few more inches. But it was moving.
In her mind, a mental clock ticked down. She pulled on the tree in a rhythmic tugging, taking small steps back as it moved.
Finally, Archie was a pace away from the rail and most of the foliage was hanging over the side of the track. The trunk, a good eight inches through the middle, straddled the two rails.
Archie looked up and dropped the trunk. “Take cover!” He headed for the trees.
Carmen leapt over the rails and ran after him. She stopped at the edge of the tree line and unslung the rifle. There was a tree with a fork in it at almost the perfect height. She settled the barrel of the rifle into the fork and bent and took aim.
“What are you doing?” Archie demanded.
“If I can take out the driver, I can slow the train,” Carmen muttered.
“He doesn’t have dead man controls,” Archie shot back. “Killing him means there’s no one there to apply the brakes. Come and get under cover. Look, the guards on the top of the cars have seen you.”
She looked at the train as it curved around the bend. The tree had been seen. The guards had been monitoring their flanks. Now they turned to face the front of the car. A rifle cracked. It came nowhere near her.
A shout sounded from within the trees, barely audible over the noise of the train. It had come from farther along the track. Figures stepped out from the trees and ran alongside the train. From among them, she spotted Garrett, who was half a head taller than anyone else in the camp.
The guards saw them, too. They moved back to their positions where they could protect the side of the train, pulling their rifles around to aim downward. Garrett and his men would be far too easy to pick off.
Carmen bent and focused along her sights, her heart squeezing. She aimed carefully and let off a round.
One of the guards on the roof threw up his arms. His rifle toppled over the side as he fell backward. The other guards all jerked around to see where the threat was coming from. Then they all hunkered down, hugging the roof of the car.
The driver of the train was close enough to see the tree across the tracks was too substantial to drive over. The engine brakes came on and the wheels bit into the tracks, squealing.
Garrett hooked a hand over the big door handle and hauled himself up onto the lip of the door, then leaned down to haul up the others. He ducked when a guard shot at him. As the guard didn’t want to lift his head high and expose himself to Carmen’s line of sight, the shot went wide.
Carmen tracked the guard with the rifle. As he moved into her sights, she fired again. The guard flinched and ducked back down. She had missed.
The train slowed. Three Resistance members clung to the side of the car and Garrett fumbled with the door, trying to open it.
Another guard, a braver one, lifted himself up onto his knees and leaned over the edge, taking careful aim.
At Garrett.
Carmen barely aimed. She jerked the tip of the rifle the fraction of an inch necessary to line up with the guard. She pulled the trigger compulsively. Once, twice, three times. She should have taken the time to squeeze it. She knew that, yet the knowledge was far away. More immediate was the danger to Garrett.
The train had slowed to a walk and would stop in a few seconds, about six feet short of the tree. The guard who aimed for Garrett jerked sideways. She hadn’t hit him but she had distracted him.
Something slammed into her shoulder, sending her staggering backward. Her knees grew weak. Heat and icy coldness tore through her, stealing her breath and her strength.
She fell back on her butt. Her left arm wouldn’t work.
“Carmen!” Garrett’s voice, sounding strained.
Carmen lifted her right hand to her shoulder and touched it. Agony flared, sending another wave of cold through her.
There was a lot of shouting, over by the train. The train had halted.
Good. We stopped it. The thought was fuzzy.
She put it together. She had been shot. All this muzziness and the hot and cold feelings…that was shock.
She could almost hear Garrett scolding her. Move your ass Escobedo! They’ll come for you!
“Carmen!” It was Garrett’s voice and this time she wasn’t hearing it only in her head. She looked up, forcing her head to lift. She wanted to lie down for a while. Lying seemed easier.
Garrett ran toward her. Behind him, two of the guards who had been on the roof of the car chased him, their rifles lifted. The other fighters were scattering. Running for their lives.
Carmen tried to shout a warning to Garrett but her voice wouldn’t work.
He dropped to his knees next to her, his hands on her shoulder. “You should have run.”
“He was going to shoot you.” It took enormous effort to say it.
His fingers pressed against the wound and behind her shoulder, too. It hurt.
Something flickered at the corner of her eye. She looked up.
A guard stood over Garrett, his rifle raised. As she looked, he brought the butt of the rifle down against the back of Garrett’s head.
Garrett fell against her, his full weight dragging her down. She toppled backward and cried out as her shoulder slammed against the earth. Bright sparks flittered in her mind.
Just before the blackness swamped her, she thought distantly, I’m lying down. Then, tinged with panic that could only express itself in her mind, Garrett!
Then nothing.
Chapter Eleven
Olivia tapped on the door that led out to the balcony. “I don’t want to interrupt…” she began.
Calli got to her feet and walked over to the door. “Come out and join us,” she said and drew her out onto the balcony with a hand on Olivia’s arm. There were two other women there. Minnie was one of them.
Calli pulled up a battered kitchen chair and patted the seat. “Have a seat. We’re sharing a bottle. It’s almost a tradition.”
The young woman who was a stranger to Olivia thrust a nearly full bottle of mescal toward her. “I’m Téra,” she said, her voice husky. “It’s just family here. I guess we’re sisters. Duardo is my brother.” She wrinkled her nose. “Big bossy brother.”
Olivia took the bottle absent-mindedly, as she sorted out the relationships. “Daniel and Duardo consider themselves brothers,” she concluded and took a swig from the bottle, then grimaced. The Vistarian mescal had a smoother taste than others she had tried. A spice she couldn’t identify added its own unique punch to the flavor. She suspected she would have many chances to get used to Vistarian mescal.
Minnie shook her head when Olivia offered the bottle to her, so Olivia handed the bottle to Calli. “Why is this a tradition?”
“It’s not. Not really. We just seem to end up on this balcony, watching the sun go down every time the men head out on an operation,” Minnie said.
Olivia glanced down at the beach. It was deserted. There were tents and equipment piles and tire marks all over the sand, although no one was to be seen. Farther up the cove to the north, the semi-permanent cabins they called billets marched in two regimented rows. A sentry stood at the far end. No one moved along the sandy street running between the huts.
Even Nick had donned army greens and a bullet-proof vest for this operation. Every single able-bodied man headed for Las Piedras Grandes in the most cobbled-together fleet of sea vessels ever collected. There had even been four wooden fishing smacks, complete with their tall netting structures at the back of the decks, crowded with armed personnel. They chugged out into the bay with the rest of the vessels. One of them looked decades old. The paint had been stripped away and the raw planking showed in the rays
of the rising sun, yet the engine ran smoothly and the boat kept up with everyone else.
“How long will it take them to get to The Big Rock?” Olivia asked.
“Duardo thought they would be there by sunset,” Calli said. “That was a best estimate. They wouldn’t leave anyone behind, so if an engine failed, or one of them was in trouble, the whole fleet would have had to wait for them.” Calli looked out at the sun, which was dipping down into the sea. “They could be there by now,” she added and passed the bottle back to Olivia, who turned and gave it to Téra.
“This sitting on my ass and waiting just sucks,” Minnie said, her voice tight.
Olivia nodded. “I used to wait for my dad to come home from missions. Then I got to wait for Daniel when we were in the White Sands. Now I’m waiting again.”
“How do you deal with the anxiety?” Calli asked.
Olivia grimaced. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I never got used to it. About the only thing I found that helped, just a bit, was staying busy.”
Calli let out a sigh. “Finding something to do isn’t a problem around here.” She stood. “Speaking of which. Téra, I’ll have one more mouthful, then there’s about six inches of paperwork on my desk.”
Téra passed the bottle back. “Is there anything I can help with?” she asked.
Minnie got to her feet. “There’s plenty for me to do, too. Who on earth invented this civilian quarter master crap, anyway?” She glared at Calli.
Calli smiled. “If you seriously want something to do, Téra, then come with me. I just lost all my military aides.”
Olivia got to her feet. “I’ll help, too.”
They all retreated inside the old house. The mescal bottle stayed on the little table in the corner of the narrow balcony.
* * * * *
Duardo took the night glasses the sergeant offered him and scanned the compound on the other side of the shiny, new fencing that enclosed it.
The fence was unexpected.
The administrative offices of the Garrido Silver Mine had started life as a group of reconditioned temporary buildings flown onto the island in prefabricated panels and constructed on top of poured concrete.
Enclosed walkways joined the huts together into a large half-donut. A powerful commercial air conditioning unit was sited behind the complex, feeding into the huts. It wasn’t running right now.
Freedom Fighters Page 14
