She remembered Alex getting sucked into watching YouTube videos during the troubles, shaky footage of antifa and alt-right street gangs brawling in the streets. She’d sneaked a look over his shoulder at people clubbing and pepper-spraying one another.
That’s disgusting, she said.
No, he said. It’s cool. It’s real.
Mom and Dad say they’re stupid, and everything is going to be okay.
You believe anything, he said. Grow up.
She’d burst into tears. He’d pushed her buttons again. It was so easy for him. The only button she could push back was telling on him, which she did.
Why grow up? Mom said. You’re only a kid once. Enjoy every minute of it. When you’re my age, you’ll miss it. Watching you grow up, I get to be a kid again myself.
But is everything going to be okay, Mom?
Of course it is.
Now Mom was dead, and Alex was right. About the war, about her. After everything that had happened, she felt grown up. She needed to act like it.
“Where are you going?” Maria called after her.
Hannah walked over to a bunch of boxes stacked on a tarp. She hugged one but couldn’t get her arms around it. She heaved anyway. It didn’t budge.
Vivian appeared at her side and scribbled something on her clipboard. “It’ll be a while before I need you. Go have some fun.”
Hannah turned and started walking again, this time heading west.
“Be back in time for lunch,” the woman called after her.
Maria caught up. “Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna go play.”
“By yourself?”
“I’m playing war.”
Maria set her jaw. “Count me in.”
They returned to the shipping container and crossed back into No Man’s Land.
“We need to pick a different house this time,” Hannah said.
She’d learned that trick from living among snipers. They fired a few shots and then changed location before the local militias honed in on them. That was how a handful of bad men terrorized an entire city.
“What’s the plan, chica?”
“We’re gonna count enemy soldiers and then tell Sabrina.”
Maria’s lips curled in a deadly grin. “Recon mission.”
“Maybe we’ll get another mark,” Hannah said, though she didn’t care about marks anymore or even what Kristy thought of her. She wanted to be useful to the militia. While she still hadn’t figured out what the cause meant to her, the important thing was she had a cause, which was staying with the Free Women.
“You should draw mine this time,” Maria said. “Are you any good at drawing?”
Hannah raised her finger to her lips. “Quiet as a mouse from here on out. And the answer to your question is, ‘Yes, I like to draw.’”
“Roger,” her friend whispered. “And yay, because I want a good drawing.”
She crept down an alley to another house, more resolute than scared this time. The back door had been removed here too. Behind her, Maria giggled through her nose.
Hannah wheeled. “Will you please shush?”
“I can’t help it. I was remembering that guy yelling ‘Pow’ at us.” The girl clamped her hands over her mouth to stop giggling.
They entered a kitchen, which was stripped down and trashed like the other house. The living room was similarly empty except for loose junk nobody wanted. Hannah pointed up the dark stairs, her shoulders clenching with the first pangs of fear. She used to be afraid of ghosts she’d never seen, but now her terror had a very real face. Maria nodded, her own face pale with fright.
They mounted the stairs. Hannah gritted her teeth as their footsteps produced loud creaks. At the top, they found an empty bedroom. Clothes hangers, busted lamps, and a dirty toothbrush lay scattered around a bare box spring.
Maria was already peering bug-eyed out the window. Hannah crawled until she could look out from the other side.
The rebel entrenchments around the church were right where they’d left them. She counted the heads she glimpsed among the earthworks and scratched marks in the wall with a shard from a broken table lamp.
When they were done, they found another observation post a few houses down. They worked their way up the block this way to Tenth Street, where they called it a day and headed back to base.
Maria walked beside her with her chin held high. “Only eleven men in the whole block. That’s not a lot.”
“We didn’t see everybody,” Hannah said. Her stomach growled with hunger.
“We have a lot more than that on our side is all I’m saying.” The girl grinned. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna say it if you won’t.”
“Say what?”
“They didn’t see us once! We kick butt! Wait until we tell Sabrina!”
Hannah was having second thoughts. They were probably already in trouble for missing lunch and making Vivian worry. “Maybe we should just tell Kristy.”
“Why should she get the credit? She’s not the boss of me.”
“We’ll get in trouble.” That was how grown-ups thought. Hannah was picturing her grand plan backfiring on her. Oh dear, Sabrina would say. I should have never let you put yourself in that position. I’m sending you to the orphanage.
“Don’t tell me we did all that so Kristy Rockford could be a hero.”
“It’ll be easier all the way around if we do.” Kristy liked being top dog.
“No way. Trust me.”
“Fine.” Hannah sighed. “We’ll do it your way.”
The crowd at the daycare had thinned as units moved off to their billets. Most of the mess had been put away. The deployment was really shaping up.
They found Sabrina talking to Vivian inside.
She shook her head as the girls walked up. “And look who it is. What did I tell you about going too far? I was just about to go out looking for you.”
Vivian was also frowning. “You two had me worried half to death.”
“We were scouting the rebels,” Hannah said.
“What possessed you—?”
Sabrina raised her hand to silence her. “What did you see?”
Hannah told her the number they’d counted. The fighter asked more questions. What weapons did they have, did they seem happy, did they have vehicles, was there smoke behind the line suggesting more men were back there, and more. Hannah answered as best she could.
“Good work,” Sabrina told them. “But don’t do it again. We’re pushing out patrols. I don’t want to see you carried back on a stretcher after getting shot by one of your comrades.”
“Okay, sister,” the girls said.
“Stick around,” Vivian said. “I’ll whip you up something for lunch.” She jabbed her finger at the corner. “Right there. I don’t want you two out of my sight.”
Hannah and Maria trooped where they were told while Sabrina went to share her information with Abigail.
“Didn’t I tell you we’d be heroes?” Maria beamed.
“Sabrina is going to tell the commander. We could still be in trouble.”
Or maybe, like Sabrina, Abigail would get the message Hannah wasn’t a dumb kid who could be ignored when an important decision about her welfare was being made.
Her friend rolled her eyes. “You’re such a worrywart. Roll up your sleeve for me. What do you want me to draw?”
Hannah had already planned out her next tattoo, a grinning cat or a spell from Harry Potter, maybe expecto patronum, which banished Dementors. Then she thought about the shipping container, how the Indy 300 marked their territory.
“Skull and crossbones,” she said.
“Yeah. You got it, sister.”
While Maria inked her arm, Alice walked over, her kewpie doll face contorted in a barely suppressed smile. “Kristy says you’re too good to hang out with us.”
Maria gave her the stink-eye. “Beat it, half pint. We’re busy.”
The smile disappeared. “But we’re playing capture th
e flag.”
“We were out for a walk and missed lunch,” Hannah said. “We’ll come out and play after we eat. Okay?”
Alice’s face shined with a gap-toothed grin. “Okay.”
Hannah would play capture the flag, but she was far more interested now in playing war. Though she was done thinking of it as playing.
TWENTY-NINE
Aubrey drove in circles looking for a way through the roadblocks, which consisted of piles of rubble and in one case a shipping container. It was slow going as the car blazed a trail through unplowed streets. A white pillowcase swung from the aerial.
“What about the railroad tracks?” Gabrielle said.
Aubrey stopped the car and took the roadmap from her. “We’d get stuck in the snow for sure.” She studied the map and tapped it. “There.”
Running along the north side of the green space surrounding the tracks, North Centennial and West St. Clair were cul-de-sacs. The dead ends appeared near enough to attempt a crossing.
When they reached the end of Centennial, Aubrey smiled. Thirty yards of open ground separated it from St. Clair. “That’s how we’ll do it.”
“Are you sure we can get across?”
She grinned and revved the engine. “Hang on to your hat.”
The UNICEF worker blanched. “I hate when you say that.”
Aubrey whooped and stepped on the gas. The car fishtailed before lurching across the snow. It thumped over the curb with a jolt. Engine howling, the tires spun. Then they bit into the ground and brought the car onto St. Clair.
“Just like Thelma and Louise,” she said. “Thank God for four-wheel drive.”
“Osti d’tabarnak,” Gabrielle swore.
Aubrey slowed the car to a crawl. “We’re about a block from the rebel line.”
So close now to getting her story. Their encounter with the Free Women had been wonderful. The commander challenging UNICEF to guarantee a safe, caring, livable environment for children. The kid screaming she didn’t want to go.
The whole thing made her wonder. Were Hannah and Maria better off in the militia? Aubrey supposed it depended on the militia. The girls didn’t seem to be doing any fighting. The Indy 300 kids she’d seen at the clinic, however, had.
Slippery slope, she surmised. A child served as a cook until one day the militia needed fighters. The Indy 300 had suffered more than most. At some point, they must have become desperate enough to throw kids into combat.
Surely, Gabrielle was right, and it was best for the children to be as far as possible from the war zones. But where could they go?
Her readers could wrestle with that question. It was her job to tell them uncomfortable truths, regardless of whether there were easy answers.
Beside her, Gabrielle took a deep breath and released it. “I hope they know it’s us coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your contacts assured us safe passage.”
“Oh. I lied about that. Sorry. My contacts came up dry. We’re taking a chance. You want out? I can leave you here and come back for you.”
“I lied too,” Gabrielle said. “When I told you there’d been no incidents.”
“I’ll be damned. I think I’m a bad influence on you.”
Aubrey braked as men rose from the nearest trench. The rebels crossed the street pointing their rifles.
Gabrielle flinched. She’d probably never had a gun pointed at her before.
“Don’t freak out,” Aubrey said. “Keep your hands on the dash.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not scared too.”
“Are you kidding? I’m terrified.”
The rebels flashed one another hand signals that displayed a bravado bordering on playacting.
The guns were real enough.
An overweight rebel in a digital camouflage uniform appeared in Gabrielle’s window. He pointed his rifle at them. “Get out of the car! Get out now!”
“Chill out,” another fighter said. His bearded face filled the window as he peered in at the women. He tapped the glass.
Aubrey rolled down the window and held up her press badge. “Indy Chronicle.” The man just stared at her in disbelief. “Take me to your leader.”
He smiled. “We’ll see about that, ma’am. Open the door nice and slow.”
She did as she was told. The man frisked her while the other groped Gabrielle. The men bound their wrists with plastic cord. The rest covered them or aimed their rifles at nearby buildings.
Aubrey thought that it was over, but it was only beginning. They tore apart the trunk and squinted under the hood. A rebel appeared with a mirror and circled the vehicle, checking for bombs attached to the chassis.
The big man held up Gabrielle’s blue UN flag. “Look at this!”
“Care to explain that?” his calmer comrade said.
“She’s with UNICEF,” Aubrey said.
“You mean the United Nations?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s right,” Gabrielle said.
“Your accent. You French or something?”
“French Canadian.”
“Even better.” The soldier keyed his throat mike. “Branch One-Six, this is Branch One Eyes, over… Uh, we got two females at the wire, sir. They arrived in a vehicle… Yeah, we checked it out, it’s clean…” He grinned at Aubrey. “Well, uh, one’s a Black liberal-media reporter, and the other’s a French-Canadian UN relief worker. They want to talk to the colonel.” He laughed. “No, I am not shitting you… Winning our hearts and minds… Roger that.”
“What’s next?” Aubrey said.
“I have been instructed to give you the red carpet treatment.”
He nodded to a rebel behind Aubrey. The world went black as a hood dropped over her head. She bit her lip and fought down a surge of bile. She’d never been more scared.
A strong hand clasped her arm. She let out a strangled sob.
“Aubrey!” Gabrielle cried.
“I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
The hand guided her to sit in the back seat of the car. She slid across as Gabrielle landed next to her. The UN worker was breathing hard.
The car started and drove for a while.
“Where are we going?” Aubrey said.
No answer. From the number of turns they were taking, the rebels seemed to be driving in circles to disorient their captives.
Aubrey had made a big mistake coming here.
The car stopped. The men got out and helped her back onto her feet. They removed the restraints and yanked the hood from her face. An alley lined with houses appeared. Rebels walked around on their martial errands or sat by wood fires in a backyard.
“I’m Colonel Lewis,” the smiling man in front of her said.
The commander wore a clean camouflage uniform under a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Mirrored sunglasses hung from his webbed harness, a pistol in a leather holster on his hip. He’d spent money to look the part. Otherwise, he was average in height and paunchy, hardly Aubrey’s idea of a militia warlord.
She took a moment to collect herself. “I’m Aubrey Fox, Indy Chronicle. This is Gabrielle Justine. She’s with UNICEF.”
“The UN and a newspaper, all in one day,” he mused. “What are you writing, Ms. Fox? Doing a big story on America’s heroes?”
“I just write obituaries. Gabrielle’s the one who wanted to come here. UNICEF is new in town, so I’ve been showing her around. She wanted to see you.”
The colonel’s eyes flickered to Gabrielle. “And why did you want to do that?”
“To help the children suffering because of the war.”
Lewis looked around at his leering troops. “Miss Justine, you’re welcome here, but your organization isn’t.”
“Look, I don’t care about the politics,” Gabrielle said. “I just want to help the children.”
While they talked, Aubrey checked out the area, which she hoped appeared as idle curiosity to these soldiers. Her gaze settled on a boy clean
ing his rifle by the fire. Next to him, a giant in camouflage and ballistic armor stared back at her. Their eyes met across the distance.
Framed by a neatly trimmed goatee, his lips curled in a slight smile. He didn’t leer so much as consume the sight of her.
Beyond them, she spotted women in militia uniforms hanging laundry on a clothesline. They were likely as dangerous as these men, though seeing them gave her a little comfort.
She turned to one of the rebels. “Mind if I sit by the fire and keep warm?”
He grinned. “Sure thing, ma’am. No pictures, though.”
“Okay.” She huddled on a crate set in front of the flames. Across the fire, the boy went on breaking down his rifle and cleaning each part.
“It looks like you’re pretty good at that,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“How old are you?”
The boy turned to the giant sitting next to him.
The man took a pull from his beer can. “Go ahead, Mary. Tell the nice reporter.”
“I’ll be sixteen in March.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Alex.”
“Have you ever shot anybody with that thing?”
The boy’s face darkened. “It was that or get shot myself. I did what I had to.”
“Did you see the Indy 300 on your way here?” the giant said.
“We passed straight through,” she lied. “We didn’t stop.”
“What do you write for the paper?”
“Obituaries,” she lied again. “What’s your name?”
“Sergeant Damon Franklin Shook,” he said, as if this were a formal interview.
“Is Alex your son, Sergeant Shook?”
The man grinned. “Take a good look at this broad, kid. This is what we’re fighting against. The lying liberal media.”
“You don’t believe in a free press?” Aubrey said.
“You think you’re free to tell the truth, but you aren’t. It’s a slave press. It’s all rigged to turn Americans into slaves.”
This rebel believed in a free press, but only if it told him what he wanted to hear. She wondered if he was even aware of the contradiction. She wondered if he knew how he sounded lecturing her about slavery.
Our War Page 15
