October 9th.
A collapsed gutter along Haven Ct. was where they kept St. Vier. The trusty was chained to a pipe that stemmed from the ground, climbing up and over the asphalt hole which was where she rotted away. At her feet was a metal bowl and a wooden spoon. Everett must have been there before I arrived. No one else cared for the captive, and the CS was the only one there who had the heart to feed the hungry. By the looks of it, he held no grudges when it came to the chained infantrywoman.
I sat on the edge of the pit and greeted the captive by asking her, "Still starving?"
"Why are you here, American?"
"I'm Canadian. I'm here because my mercy and compassion require it of me." I told it to her straight, "What I want is for you to join Palisades Reconnaissance. I think it's the only way to get you out of this filth."
"And what makes you think I want to leave?" she asked, basking in a hot mishmash of foliage and wet dirt. "Also, what makes you think that I'm up for the task of fighting my own people? I'll be honest, I won't fight for them, but I sure as hell won't fight for you either. Have me scrub the pavement. Fight for Pali'? Pass."
I tried to reason with her. "If you fight for Pali', you get a tent and military pay. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me, and you have the gall to just throw that away?" It didn't look like I was getting through to her. She was acting like a stubborn child, rolling her eyes at me then turning the other way. "Renata, I don't want to see you like this. I don't want to see anyone like this. That's why I came here."
"Liar…"
"It's true. I'm lending a hand, you know? The least you can do is reach for it."
She quickly responded with, "I don't trust scums."
"Well, I am nowhere near one." I tried to reason with her once more, "Look, I'm the reason why you're alive in the first place. Prove to them—to me—why you should be, and not better off chained to an old pipe, waiting, dying." In my grasp was the key to her handcuffs which I waved under the beams of the sun, letting it shine against her rose-colored hair. "They didn't call for you. I did. Would you like to know why?"
"I don't have a choice but to ask, right? Why?"
"Because you had every chance to kick, to scream, to cry, but you didn't. Not a single time, you did." I then asked her, "You're grateful, aren't you? You're grateful for what I did and how I spared you? All I ask is that you return the favor."
"What do you get out of this?" As expected, she averted my question with another. "Surely, you won't be lending a hand out of the kindness of your heart. Not unless that's a thing people still do nowadays, which I'm sure it isn't."
"I already told you what I want. I want you out of this pit. I want you to get some ground under your feet, some breeze in your hair. Everyone else does. Why not you? Enough with that defensive state of mind, St. Vier, it won't get you anywhere with me."
"Then what are you waiting for?" The captive presented me with her cuffs and bellowed, "Take these damn things off of me."
Once I hopped down the ledge, I caringly held onto the captive's wrists then freed her from the pipe. An awkward yet kind exchange of nods was what assured me that she wasn't going to shank me in the neck the second I faced away.
The woman was free as a bird, though she seemed to be glued to the pit, looking up at me as if I was supposed to bring her around on a leash. The trusty didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do either. The only person I sought permission from was the general. That meant that the only other people who knew about my request to pull St. Vier out of that pit were Dr. Agatha and some Pali' guys maybe. I took my jacket and dressed the wet, sewer-smelling prisoner in it. I made sure that the pockets were empty and retrieved my guns before assisting her out of the collapsed gutter.
* * *
The mission briefing took place at the Vergs residence. There was me, General Vergs, Dr. Agatha, CS Everett, and St. Vier. The five of us sat around the dinner table. That time, there were enough chairs to go around. In the dead of night, General Vergs and I watched the room while the doctor and the CS looked after the trusty as she feasted on leftovers. After St. Vier wiped her gob, signifying that she had finished her supper, the general waved Dr. Agatha and CS Everett away from their seats, leaving him, me, and the French guard at the table.
He asked me to retrieve my snub nose. It was concerning that he did. He was the one who gave the order—the one who allowed me to recruit her—but in that instant, I had no idea what was going on in his head. Perhaps, he was arming me just in case the talk was to go south, but he had a rather aggressive look on his face. A grimace as if he was on the offense, waiting to attack.
General Vergs wore a stalking gaze as he interrogated the guard. "I had Pali' do rounds a few blocks outside of Nyack. They questioned a Hexagon camp which they now neutralized, asking about Eyes and Ears. Captain Finer reported to me that it was initially what the French referred to as an HTM program or a 'highly-trained marksman' program that developed top-tier snipers for the French military. It was cut short, and three snipers from that project were retained to form a six-man unit, the other three being their students. We don't know any of their names. Do you?"
So, Eyes and Ears wasn't the group that ambushed us at the banked road. Scary. Those were just plain old Hexagon guys. I mean, for a while, I thought that "Eyes and Ears" and "L'Hexagone" were the same thing, but if the former was more than just another armed group, then they were probably a force to be reckoned with given all that we had witnessed from Overpeck to North Palisades was already too much for us to handle.
St. Vier responded with, "It depends…"
General Vergs was easily agitated by her answer. "What do you mean 'it depends'?"
"What happens to me after this? Do you chain me back on that pipe? If you do decide to dispatch me on this mission, what happens after that? Do I get lodging? Do I get fed real food? Do I have the luxury of bathing—"
"None of us have the luxury of bathing," said the general.
"Then answer the other questions."
He locked his hands together and leaned on the edge of the dinner table, pressing his weight on the brittle wooden top. "I'll be blunt. You won't get any of that. Contrary to what Mrs. Baby told you, you won't be receiving military pay either. You don't deserve any aid in any form until you prove your worth, soldier. For now, the only currency you should be slaving for is trust. Mine alone—not even theirs." He let the captive obnoxiously yawn in his face, waiting for her to finish rolling her eyes before he continued speaking. "We lost a lot of good people. I can't afford to lose any more, and if letting you off the hook so damn easy will be our fall, then I'll do my utmost to keep you down."
"You sound like you're hurting," St. Vier teased him.
"I am speaking from experience." General Vergs then asked her, "Is my answer to your satisfaction?"
I didn't want to, but I brandished my weapon at the captive, letting her know that I too wasn't all that friendly, all that merciful. It failed to spook her and instead made her shine a mocking grin, though she told the general anyway, "Yes… I am satisfied with your answer."
"Good." The general laid back in his seat. "Now answer my question."
I was told by the captive to pick up a pen and start writing. She said, "The first one is Lieutenant General Walter Ford. He defected from the U.S. army and smuggled troops all the way down to Hoboken. The man has a swastika on his left forearm and a libido just as unhinged as the guys he runs with. He's impatient and irrational."
"Why did he have to smuggle troops down to Hoboken?"
"Slaves," the French guard replied. "The Hexagon needed labor forces to cultivate Master Camps, shovel coal for Hudson ships, and forge weapons for the French. He slaughtered a brigade just to get what he wanted."
"Christ. And who's the other guy?"
"Iscariot."
The general asked, "Just 'Iscariot'?"
"From what I've heard, he's under witness protection. No origin, no nationality. Nothing. He's the one controlling those snipers across the river. I doubt they'll ever cross the Hudson. Well, they did it once to get on the east side, but they'll never cross it again. They say that a fifth of the world wants him dead, and that he's not willing to risk a sortie that could end so wrong so quickly. But the kids, the students—I don't know any of their names or their faces."
"Well, who's the sixth member?"
"Major Legrand. The Hexagon's 'War Chief'. She's General Bernard's second-in-command and the leader of Eyes and Ears. You're correct for assuming that hand-written notes were passed around in a smaller circle. The last time the Hexagon stationed Eyes and Ears on this side of the river was when our troops advanced to Edgewater."
"They passed around hand-written notes back then too?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you know about them if they're meant to be for smaller circles?"
The captive answered him, "I was one of Major Legrand's henchmen. There were twelve of us, and we were what she considered to be an extension of the unit."
"Can you shoot like them?"
"We were more like her personal meat shield."
"Surely, there's a reason as to why she appointed you—"
"Nope. It doesn't matter who she appoints. It doesn't matter if we raise our hands or have our names pulled in a raffle. We were simply there to break her fall if she were to." Her eyes penetrated the wood, "There's nothing special about me. No skill, no feats."
"Yeah? Maybe your calling is here."
St. Vier let out an honest, hearty laugh. "Your head is in the clouds."
"You wanna throw away a good deal just like that—"
"I'm not throwing anything away." The French guard slid her plate to the side and copied the general's posture. "You're quick to assume that I'm turning down your offer."
"And you're quick to assume that I'm friendly."
"I thought you were."
"I'm not friendly. I'm merciful. If you keep up with that smug act any longer, I will show you what the absence of my mercy entails. Is that clear?"
"Does the offer still stand?"
"You're the only one questioning it."
If I can say one thing, it would be that St. Vier liked toying with us, mainly with the general. She had a thing for mind games, and that badge she had on her arm gave her the leverage she needed. It always kept us a few good feet away from her. The captive looked at me, at my gun, then back at the general.
"Crystal clear," she answered him, the stiffness of her spine going away at the same time I lowered my pistol. She then said to me, "Liar… I should've known."
"I had to get you here one way or another," I told her.
"Is that what you do around here? You lie to get what you want? You con people into giving you what you desire?" I could tell that she felt betrayed by what I did, though I truly thought that she would be given what I told her if she took the job.
To spare me from whatever wrath she had in her heart, General Vergs came to my aid and said to her, "She was merely following orders. I told her to relay that message because I knew you were taking zero chances crawling out of that ditch. I needed to fish you out of there one way or another."
St. Vier answered back, "You could've just done that by force."
"We're not animals," said the general, "and if we continue to go round and round about this, we'll get nowhere. I conned you, Baby followed orders, you took up the offer, and that's it. Nothing else matters. Can we move on from this? Please?"
The captive wasn't even given the chance to nod her head. There was no indication that the Pali' guys had arrived. All of a sudden, the front door swung, and the entire space of the foyer was taken up by the sheer size of both the captain and the lieutenant. Captain Finer's presence brought a calm wind into the heated dining area. It soothed me. My eyes were snatched by his presence and so were everyone else's, but all of that shifted in an instant once Lieutenant Miller came into frame. He followed the captain, walking in a way that made him look on edge, not because St. Vier was in the room, but because of something else. I just couldn't put my finger on it.
"Why are we here, Cap?" Lieutenant Miller asked, though it sounded as if he was addressing the room. He gave everyone a nasty scowl, judging us solely with his eyes. "I can sense tension." He asked me, "Baby, do you know what's going on?"
I simply shrugged my shoulders.
"You don't?"
"I don't," I told him.
"Okay…" He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, running a glass under the tap. "General?"
"Finer," the general called the captain's attention as he didn't feel like speaking to the lieutenant that evening.
The Pali' captain was handed a paper by Dr. Agatha. They moved routinely.
"Miller," said Captain Finer, "have a seat."
"I'm not taking a seat around the same table as that cheese-eater."
Captain Finer quipped, "You're gonna need a chair to fall on when you take a bump." He unraveled the paper and stopped pacing around the kitchen. "Are you ready?"
"Always," said the lieutenant.
Right before Captain Finer read the letter to the room, I recalled who I had written to and how Lieutenant Miller felt toward them.
Dear Gen. Mitchell Agustus Vergs & County Executive Helena Maurice L. Pope:
I received information not so long ago that a Hexagon checkpoint developed in Leonia, and that enemy cargo passed through Overpeck Creek. To our knowledge at the time, Hexagon groups only operated near Palisades and the DMZ, and were nowhere near Teaneck Creek.
I acknowledge your bravery in defending Degraw Avenue and would like to return the favor. We will be joining your operation to push back French troops and close the gap of the Barren Buffer Zone. Only through collaborative effort will we let Eyes and Ears know that the Fort Lee outpost is a force to be reckoned with. Let us reclaim Edgewater, and hopefully, turn the tables.
Regards,
Capt. Christopher Mapleman of the O-Peck Squad
Lieutenant Miller's pout stabbed me in the heart like a cold blade. I felt like I betrayed the man as he looked at me with eyes that said "how could you", my mind screaming "what have I done". Was it necessary? Yes, but I guess it was at the cost of the lieutenant's trust.
I knew from that point on, he would never look at me the same way again, or at least, no longer trust me with keeping secrets. He wagged his head in disappointment and took a deep breath. After that, he stopped looking my way, pretending that I wasn't in the room at all. That hurt me, but I knew I didn't mean much to him anyway.
"Are we gonna start making moves behind each other's backs?" he asked. "O-Peck doesn't need to be a part of this."
General Vergs told him, "We all jumped into this predicament knowing that Congress wasn't going to do a thing once the first Hexagon guard bit the dust. Backup is a must, Miller, and aside from Pope's militiamen—"
"The stupid ones by the way—"
"O-Peck's the only other team close by. It'd be foolish not to seek their assistance. We've got no one else, Miller. Face it." The general asked him, "Do you have something else in mind? We can reel in all the volunteers we want. Hell, we can garner hundreds of them, and they'll still trample faster than six Teaneck troops."
Dr. Agatha supported the general's point by telling the lieutenant, "We've got no one else. Pope's militiamen can only do so much. Without O-Peck, we're sitting ducks. We have been for a while now. It's time we start making actual moves, and this seems like the only move we can make, but that's not to say that we're disregarding your hardships. We understand that you have your own things going on, though you can't possibly keep us from what we believe is a sound solution." She begged him, "Trevor, please."
"You guys implore me like it's up to me, when in reality, that decision shouldn't be mine to make." Lieutenant Miller said to both the general and the doctor, "Go ahead. By all means, call O-Peck. I don't give a damn."
As the troops continued discussing their game plan, Lieutenant Miller just got up and left. Not a single word uttered. The captain and I saw him bail, but neither of us were willing to deal with him if he were to snap. But anyway, there we were, maps on the table with pen caps representing both Pali' and Eyes and Ears. We went over the plan of attack in grave detail, though my mind was elsewhere. Devil Child. I still didn't know who that was, and no one seemed to be bringing him up.
I muttered under my breath, "Diable…"
* * *
The troops were the first to leave. CS Everett drove St. Vier down to Burd Street while Captain Finer drove to the border of Mercado Lane. I guess Lieutenant Miller took a stroll. General Vergs and I sat on the steps of their home, him sipping from his flask. He offered me a swig, and this time, I agreed. I was never much of a drinker, and that point was shown by the way my face folded upon tasting the dry liquor. Whatever was in that flask tasted like it died a long time ago. Acquired taste, maybe.
I wiped my lips and asked him, "How come you never told me that Pope was Captain Finer's mother-in-law?"
He kept his flask. I must've caught him off-guard with that question. "It's not really my business going around and telling, but I did want you to know mainly so that you'd know how to treat her, and you treat her well. No problem there." He then slouched as low as he could. "I wish it didn't have to be this way if I'm being honest. Finer's a great kid. He doesn't need to be caught in the middle of my scuffles with the county executive. It's just that we have our separate beliefs, and neither side is capable of respecting the other's. I know those quarrels hurt him. I do. Pope knows that, too."
"He's a little shy, isn't he?"
"Around select individuals," said the general. "Emily and I—not so much. He's like a… a brother and a son rolled into one. He's also the only other person Anais actually speaks to. Eye-to-eye, that is."
"And where is she now?"
"Upstairs, sleeping like a rock." He then asked me, "Is it wrong… what I'm doing? I fight for my regiment, but every time I do, I argue with a person that means something to someone else, and I know that we both matter to that someone." General Vergs struggled keeping his hand away from his flask. He pressed onto the ground instead. "I don't wanna leave the guy torn is all. He shouldn't feel so puzzled about all this. He shouldn't be involved, but alas, the tyrant of the town happens to be his damn mother-in-law." He switched up immediately, "No, I am doing something wrong. I just don't know what."
"Are you okay, General?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes… Yes, I am." He patted me on the back at the same intensity as a leaf grazing the floor and told me, "You should get some rest, Baby. I'll see you in the morning."
I helped him on the steps, but before I made it off their lawn, I faced their home and said to him just as he was about to close the door on me, "I don't think you're doing anything wrong, sir." I watched him take a pause, lending me his ear. "I think everyone around here has good intentions. They do things for their own, but fail to take into consideration the needs of other groups, and I believe that's where alienation stems from. I can see how the burden is heavy on him. He's the only one in this town seeing the fruitions of both worlds, and I'm sure that, with how strongly you two uphold your beliefs, both seem plausible to him. If I'm right about that, then the problem is he doesn't know what he's fighting for."
"What can I do?" He sounded like he was lost.
"Compromise," I answered. "If you can do it for him, then you'd be doing it for both the regiment and the people of Nyack because he is both."
"Compromise… I'll try that." Before closing the door for good, General Vergs told me something else. Something that meant a lot to me. He said that, "Whenever the captain wasn't around, Tommy would be the glue keeping us together. You'd think it was Emily. Well, she is, but he was, too. You're turning out just like that. You two—you have a gift, and it's the kind that can turn people's lives around. He managed to do that." He kept shifting back and forth, swinging the door closer to the frame then pulling it back as if he had more to say, but it might have just been the booze drowning his system. "You know what? I don't know if he told you this, but Tommy always felt like he wasn't good enough. The man thought he could've done more, but to me, everything that he did for us was more than enough. I wasn't able to tell him that. I wish I did."
"I'm sure he heard that just now."
"Yes… I'm sure he did." He looked at my pendant and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Baby. Good night."
"Good night, General."
Oct. 9, 1992
Tommy was wrong for calling him a "dying flame". I don't think a regiment just a few miles north from enemy territory could survive this long if they were led by someone who possesses the same qualities as a faltering candle wick. General Vergs is jaded, though I know he means well, him and Dr. Agatha both.
The general talked about Captain Finer like he was his own, like the man was his responsibility more than he was Pope's. It pained me listening to his tired voice. He's trying to keep things under control and so is the county executive. They just have different mouths to feed and different ways to go about it. Who's right or wrong, I'm not sure, but this puzzling situation is taking a toll on not just the two of them, but on Captain Finer as well. Personally, I don't see him struggle, but a lot of things can happen behind an ill-defined smile or a head simply hanging low. I feel bad for him. I hope he's doing well.
It was the 10th of October, and I was sitting on a gun crate outside of the Pali' home, scribbling on paper and waiting for the guys to march through the door. We received intel that Hexagon squads drove up to Fort Lee. Though nothing had happened yet, General Vergs ordered Captain Finer to bring us down to Pali' to perform reconnaissance, informing us that "L'enfant Du Diable" would meet us just outside Mercado Lane.
Lieutenant Miller was the first one to exit the home, walking past me as if I didn't exist. I called his name several times, though he paid no mind. I must've hurt him badly with that letter, or at least, by not informing him that I wrote to O-Peck. As for the ring on his finger, it was no longer there.
"Lieutenant," with a mildly stuttering breath, I gathered the strength to get up and tap him on the shoulder. There was no turn of the head, no shrug of the arm. It was like I was nothing but a gush of wind. I spoke to him despite the cold-shoulder. "Sir, I'm heartily sorry for what I did to you—"
"Heartily?"
"Yes," I replied. "I should've let you know. Now that I think about it, I don't know why I didn't. It was selfish of me, it really was, but I was just following Pope's orders. They're right. We need O-peck. I even had to beg St. Vier to crawl out of that ditch. We are in dire need of forces. And you—you're right about Pope's militiamen. Those guys probably don't know how to change a lightbulb, which is why we need people from elsewhere."
"Now it's Pope's fault?"
"I'm not pointing fingers at anyone, sir. I'm asking for your forgiveness."
"And what did I ask you?" He silenced me. "Huh? What did I ask of you?" Lieutenant Miller pushed me back, ushering me to the edge of the gun crate. "I told you my life story in exchange for never having to bring it up again, and what did I get in return? You agreed to write a letter to O-Peck, requesting their presence—her presence—and…" I felt his fist harnessing the heat of the sun, ready to strike me where I laid. Thinking to myself that I deserved it, I clenched the corners of the crate and squinted my eyes. I was willing to take a square on the nose for that man—anything to call it even, really—though he didn't pull through. All that heat seeped through the spaces of his fingers and out his mouth. He said to me, "You're letting me down. I mean that," and walked away.
That hurt more than anything. Just when I thought I sought his approval, I slipped. I still believed I deserved that punch. In my defeated posture, St. Vier came up to me and tapped the tip of my boot with hers.
Pali' didn't supply her with anything. All but a simple sidearm. A Glock 17. The others had M11s, except for Captain Finer who packed a nickel-plated 1911. They didn't even issue her fatigues. I mean, they didn't issue me one either, though you would expect that, if she were to fight on the frontlines, they'd have her dress in the same colors.
Perhaps, they had plans of stationing her beyond enemy lines, but then, there would have been that added risk of her relaying precious information to the French. I didn't really know why they kept her in Hexagon fatigues. I suppose they didn't care about her as much as I did.
"How many more questions am I allowed?" she jokingly said.
"As many as you can come up with," I replied. "Why?"
"Nothing. It's the only joke I can come up with at the time."
St. Vier sat by my side and waited for the Pali' guys as well. It was the first time I felt at ease in her presence. Her eyes traced the clouds in a peaceful manner, and her hands hovered nowhere near her holster. She didn't crouch like a feral critter nor did she show her fangs to the regiment soldiers that passed us by. I was supposed to ask her why she was willing to comply despite how she had been treated up until that point, but I didn't want to spoil what I thought was a tranquil moment for her.
I turned the journal on a blank page and asked the infantrywoman, "So what's your story?"
"My story?"
I suppose it was strange to ask her something like that after conning her into joining Pali' in the first place, however it got dead-quiet, and my impulse was always to keep the air from going stale, and that meant keeping conversations flowing. I wasn't a fan of awkward silence. I said to her, "I want to know more about you. It's worth noting down—"
"And why is it worth noting down?" Her guard was raised. "I can't think of one person in Nyack who'd give a damn about where I grew up or what I did for a living."
"Probably," I said in response, "but think about those who'd want to put themselves in the shoes of a morally-intact Hexagon guard getting used to the culture of one, simple, American regiment stationed near the Hudson."
She laughed, "Morally-intact?"
"You are."
"I'm not," she scooted away from me and kicked twigs with her foot, "and who are you to say that I am anything? You hardly even know me."
I pointed at her armband, "Well, the last guy who had that exact same badge on his arm beat me into the ground until I started bleeding out my behind. I'll keep saying it: I don't think you're all that bad, St. Vier. I think you're okay. Not a lot of people see you the way I do, but you hardly come out of your shell to let people see who you really are."
"Ay, enough with you, you nosy, nosy Canadian."
The French guard stood from the crate, dusted her bottoms, then marched away in a similar manner as the lieutenant—mildly irritated. Everyone I tried to connect with—I just pushed away. Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I should've just shelled up since everyone else was doing it. That was the safe option, though I was getting tired of "safe".
Finally, the rest of the Pali' guys exited the home, Captain Finer directing them to the jeeps. There was no point nor time to record anyone else's thoughts in the journal. I kept it and waited for the captain to give me orders. At least I knew he wasn't going to walk out on me like the others.
There was no silent nod as a way of saying "good morning" or a light pat on the back to begin a conversation. He asked me right away, "Is the lieutenant still giving you the silent treatment?"
"I'm afraid so."
He sat by my side, handing me a half-eaten snack bar, saying, "He can be difficult. I mean, we proved that a long time ago, but yeah. That's just the way he is. I apologize." The man apologized for everything, even for things that had nothing to do with him.
"You don't have to." I raised the snack and said, "Thank you. Are you sure you're not hungry?"
"I had a hefty breakfast. You didn't."
"How are you?"
"Me? I'm okay. What about you? You know, the calm before the storm always makes me feel uneasy. I'd assume they kinda perturb you as well."
"Aren't we all a little perturbed by it?" I was reminded of my conversation with General Vergs the night before. "How's Pope by the way?"
"She's well. Tired… but well. I feel like there's something I should be doing, you know? This feud she has going on with the general—it's making my head spin, but I know these people so damn well. I should be doing something to fix this for them."
"They should be doing something to fix this for you," I replied. "You don't deserve to feel puzzled about that. It shouldn't be your burden to carry."
"Tell that to the little huntress."
"Anais?"
"We have a little thing going on too," he told me. "I personally think that General Vergs is right about this. Why should they halt military pay? It doesn't seem like it, but reassuring the guys by funding them accordingly can snap them back into place and give morale the space it needs to grow. Without all that, we're nothing but slaves."
"What about Anais?"
Captain Finer rubbed his nape like he was exhausted. He was probably tired of the situation. "She wants that hospital up and running. Dr. Agatha promised her that she'd get treated, but that didn't pull through, and recently, she said to the girl that maybe General Vergs is right, and that the hospital can wait. You can imagine the look on Anais' face when she was told that."
"Poor girl… When did Dr. Agatha tell her?"
"Big Mama didn't. Anais is young, but she knows what PD-1 inhibitors are. They had Xemperil boxes all over the place. She was bound to have a hunch," he answered me. "I can't fight her. At the same time, Mrs. Pope has her tendencies. I can't let her slip. That's not an option. And so, I think General Vergs is making the right call. Not just for Pali', but for everyone else, too."
"Tendencies? What tendencies?"
The captain looked ashamed as he told me, "You heard about Edgewater. Those tendencies."
"People learn from their mistakes."
"If something grave happens once, the risk of it happening again exists. Us—we gamble our lives every day, but some risks aren't worth taking, and entrusting Mrs. Pope with all that wealth and all that power is that kind of risk. I care about that woman, but losing Edgewater left an impression. It left an impression on everyone."
As troops continued pacing along Burd Street, Captain Finer sat further back on the gun crate. Everyone around us was moving fast, though it felt like time was frozen for the two of us. He didn't look like he was getting up anytime soon.
"I'm in the middle of a crossfire with those guys, but as distressed as I am, and although it doesn't seem like it, my personal plan of action is to sit back and let the chips fall where they may. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. That girl—she's the one you need to be keeping an eye on. She's young, she's new to these things. With everyone around her fighting each other and French guards closing in, I can't imagine how fast her head's spinning. She's gonna need someone to slow it down for her, and that can be you."
"As sweet as she is, I don't think she's comfortable around me."
"Yeah? At least she's anything with you. Other people, she won't even look at. She only talks to the people she feels safest around. That's the general, the doctor, Mrs. Pope, and yours truly. No one else. She also doesn't go out of her way to make conversation."
"We talked for a short time, but it was only ever that one time."
"All it takes is one conversation to earn her trust. If she doesn't like talking, she bails mid-conversation."
"She was driving."
"And there were times she'd cut a ride short." The man had an answer for everything. "I think she likes you, but even people she likes, she won't approach. Just… talk to her, ask her how things are going. She'd like that. I know she will."
I tried reaching out to the lieutenant and the French guard. Those two turned away quickly, though I guess they had their reasons. Anais—I still didn't know much about her, and I thought to myself that would be her reason to turn me down if I were to engage her in a conversation, but I wasn't one to shy away.
I told Captain Finer, "I can try."
* * *
Chu-chik!
The crisp, clean sounds of a British bolt-action tickled my ears. No one told me who L'enfant Du Diable was, and for some reason, I didn't ask. All I knew was that he was the only marksman in all of Rockland County capable of hitting targets situated in the southern region of the DMZ. That meant they could shoot the same distance across the Hudson. Eyes and Ears territory.
I was thinking he was probably a seasoned troop who had patriotism coursing through his American veins, or maybe even a drunken, old-fashioned war vet who believed the earth is flat and that aliens exist. To my surprise, she was none of those things. She didn't have any battle scars nor a tally on the stock of her rifle. She didn't even have the first clue as to what the Pali' guys were talking about, and I did—someone who would've snapped so easily like a toothpick.
"Anais," I asked her, "is… is Dr. Agatha alright with you tagging along?"
"Mama has no clue about this, and I think Pali' didn't let you know who I was to keep you from asking around. I hope you don't take offense."
"I don't. General Vergs—he gave the call?"
"Mrs. Pope did. Papa just went along with it."
I watched as she wiped down her sniper. It was nowhere near the condition of her varmint gun. This one was notches above, and surely doubled the girl's height. I began to understand why she had such an alias. "Devil Child". She was a youngster, so the "Child" part made sense. "Devil"? Not so much. Not until I saw what she could do out there. However, before all that, I was presented with the first half of the duality that was Ms. Anais Casablanca.
The young girl didn't know anything about what she had in her hands. I asked a series of questions regarding her gun and how she got good at shooting. She told me she had no idea what the name of her sniper was nor did she know what type of rounds it fired, and that she learned to shoot from watching spaghetti westerns in her spare time.
The Devil Child was somewhat oblivious to her surroundings, and perched on the edge of her seat without a care in the world. By the way, the two of us were in a bar along River Road, and neither of us looked like we belonged there. If you were a stranger, you'd think we were mother and daughter, lost, clueless, and looking for our way back.
I asked her, "Who gave you that gun?"
"Mrs. Pope. It belonged to her husband, which was given to him by his father when he passed. It was written in his will. She handed it over to me, entrusting me with keeping her people safe. She also said that, aside from Noby, she didn't want anyone else holding this gun, and that 'guns weren't made to thrill their operators'. Noby thought I should have it. He was grateful for what I did to keep Mrs. Pope safe from harm and was certain her husband would've been just as thankful."
"That's sweet, but 'Devil Child', why would they call you that?"
"The French made it up. Made me sound like some kind of monster." I could tell just by the way she swung her head that she didn't like her nickname any more than me. "I find it hypocritical how they can hurt, kill, and somehow, still have the gall to throw bad looks my way."
"Well, how many have you… killed?"
She told me, "Take a guess."
"Twenty?" She raised her head, though I wasn't sure if she was leading or not. "Twenty…? Twenty-plus?" I had no clue. "I give up."
She made an O with her thumb and pointer finger.
"Zero?"
"I shoot hands—not heads. If not, and everyone's in a scurry, it's legs, arms, elbows, kneecaps. Vermin, critters—I'll reap anything for supper, but I swear to you, I'll never take another man's soul. That's not me. It's not in my blood to do so, but that doesn't mean I won't fight for the people who've kept me safe all these years." She was a fascinating person to listen to.
"That's genius."
"It is," she replied. "It's also a good way to keep from losing your mind. I've seen people go into shock after putting one in the ground. I can't imagine that pain, and I don't plan on going down the same path anytime soon."
I'll be honest, if the Lord offered me to switch ledgers with that young, innocent girl, I would have taken up His offer. I never felt the same since Overpeck. After that incident by the creek, it was like that blood on my hands never washed away. "I'm one too late…"
"I'm sorry to hear that."
I took a mental note of how she felt about that alias of hers. It seemed that I was the only person she told about how she truly felt of the name "L'enfant Du Diable", and since my search for whoever that was came to an end, I decided to discard that name from my memory, disassociating it with that young girl who was actually quite the opposite. One thing for certain was that Dr. Agatha was raising her right. I just wish they didn't keep the girl's presence in Pali' a secret from her.