Chapter CLVIII: Another One Bites the Dust (Battle of the Dunes)
14 June 1643 – Dunkirk
The soldier's mouth chewed into the sandy dune in agony. Blood was covering his eyes like some infernal nightfall. The bodies of his comrades convulsed as they were heaped on top of him. The vermilion colour poured into the dunes and caked them into a mush. Nothing could stop the gore. Turenne could not believe it. Enghien could not understand it. Schenkhuizen ordered the men to flee, but the commander would give no order. The Prince was spirited away, but Turenne could only watch in horror.
They were bleeding. From everywhere. Not a single shot was fired, yet the vanguard was dying. A white flag of parley was drawn up on either side, but neither group wanted to cross the battle lines. “It's a plague!” someone had shouted. The only other sound were the moans of Spanish soldiers forming a lake of blood in between the two armies.
What started as a chance encounter between two scouting parties ended with the discovery by the two armies that the first Spanish force was dying. The general retreat was sounded on the Spanish side. Turenne, being suspicious already from the event and noticing that it was only Spanish troops afflicted sensed some kind of trap. He ordered his men to break as well. The two armies disengaged although both commanders asked several scouts to stay behind to observe.
All these scouts could tell the generals was that they had seen a black rock come out of the water in the Channel, and that a lance of fire exited the rock, hovered over the battlefield and then exploded like a dozen cannonballs. Nothing happened to them immediately following that event, but after they had reported this to their masters, they bled from every pore.
1986 – Havana
The tuxedo clung to Antonio stiffly. The starched fabric hung onto him like iron shackles and the cold sting of the night air whipping against his sweat made him shiver. He looked out at the Bahia de la Habana's nightly darkness and listened to the hushed crashing of waves against the beach. Antonio wanted to feel the darkness around him if it weren't for the radiant moon that reminded him of the Sun's presence heating up the other side of the world. He wanted the horizon to be the dark lids of the world closing shut.
He hadn't spoken a word to Nia on their way to Cuba. In fact, his mind was too buy calculating and recalculating the impossible to notice most of what was happening around him. He responded to her requests with an instinctual caution, but the rest of his mind was too busy pondering what it was that Nia wanted to show him. He was too busy even to note that they had traveled to Havana in a jet black aircraft of a kind he'd never seen before.
After a few more minutes of contemplation, Antonio turned back to the glass doorway that led into Nia's Havana apartment. It was not surprising that she had quite a few hideouts, though it was more fair to say that this home she had bought along the shores of the gulf was like a summer getaway than it was a clandestine supply depot. It had been an hour since he had gone out to buy his tuxedo at Nia's request. There was no chance that she would escape, he had understood. This was all part of her show now. There was a note on the door.
Hi Antonio, the note began, I'm getting dressed. The door's open. Come inside and make yourself a drink. - Nia
Antonio crushed the coy note in his fist before opening the portal and stepping inside. The white enamel walls and the subtle windows all reflected or transferred the bay's picturesque presence all over the living room. The white carpet sank underneath Antonio's shoe. “Hello?” he called out to the uninhabited space.
As if in response, one of the doors on his far right slid open and leather boots stepped out of the darkness within followed by the subtle tone of tanned skin wrapped in an ebony dress. A smiling face crowned by long strands of hair spoke to him. “The bar's next to the fireplace if you want--”
“No more games,” was the only response.
Nia paused for a second, but her expression was unaltered. “Let's go then. We won't keep them waiting.”
“Where are we going?” Antonio asked as Nia began to move towards the exit.
“Don Francisco's party,” Nia replied casually.
“And that's where your proof is?” Antonio was a bit annoyed.
“Yes,” Nia smirked as she stepped outside of the door. “It's where your wife is afterall.”
---
“Under the name Lynd,” Nia told the old man greeting them. “I called ahead for a skybooth,” she added as the man slid a gloved hand down a laminated sheet.
“Ahh yes,” the man replied to the two with a smile, “up the left stairway. Number nine.”
They proceeded through the main lobby which was abuzz with men and women in evening dress and gowns. The congregation even had a few foreigners in native costume. Taking the left staircase, Nia led the way at a steady pace while her eyes peered back every once in a while to an Antonio who seemed to only notice the faces milling in the crowd.
“She won't be down here,” Nia assured him. Antonio looked up at Nia just for a moment before quickening his pace and averting his eyes from the crowd below.
Their booth was a spacious affair of leather seats and sofas facing a glass wall which revealed the inner courtyard of the mansion. Nia advanced towards the glass partition which arched outward and, taking hold of a small apparatus near the side of it, opened the portal which revealed a small balcony ringing their suite with two sets of stairways on either terminating end leading down into the courtyard. Antonio could immediately hear the sound of music and people talking as the door opened and he took a few steps towards the exit to find that the entire courtyard below, save for where the fountain was splashing cordially, was filled with a blanket of people.
Antonio was observing the movement of the crowd and looked at the other booths dotting the inner edge of that large courtyard before looking back to Nia who had sat down on one of the sofas. From the corner of his eye, he noticed someone stepping into the room from the hallway door from whence they came. “Señor, Señora: May I get you two anything tonight?” the man asked as he politely handed a leather-bound menu to Nia's outstretched hand.
Antonio spied the attendant for a moment and scrutinized Nia's casual glances at the menu as if at any moment, some secret exchange of information was about to occur. The waiter was kind enough to walk past the sofa and hand Antonio a menu. He took it tentatively and looked through the items as if hoping to find some cryptic cipher.
“I'll take the house martini,” Nia finally said.
Antonio's eyes darted upward. “The house martini is five pesos,” he said almost irrationally. Nia nodded with a shrug. “That's a martini...” Antonio continued to investigate, “that's gin and vermouth.”
“Last I heard,” Nia held back a chuckle at Antonio's increasing paranoia.
“And it's five pesos?” Antonio turned to the waiter, “You don't put heroin into it do you?”
The waiter just gave him a puzzled look. “No, Señor...”
Antonio studied the waiter's face and then Nia's bemused expression before passing the menu back to the man. “Just checking... I don't want anything right now.”
“I'll be right back with your drink, Señora,” the waiter said quickly before stepping out.
Antonio, perhaps realizing the tension in his body, stepped heavily over to the other sofa opposite Nia and sat himself down with a gruff exhale. His eyes, finally allowing the tiredness to break through the barrier of his irises, looked at Nia with an unsteady focus. “What now?” he asked quietly.
“Now we wait. Don't worry,” she added while leaning forward to pull a cigarette from her purse, “It won't be long.” Antonio sighed and pulled his head back to rest it for a moment against the leather seat. His hand pushed through his hair and caught the sweat and gel that held it together. “So: I hear you were visiting Amsterdam before you came to El Salvador,” Nia said as she clicked her lighter on.
“Yeah...” Antonio replied tiredly though he ruffled his forehead wondering if there was something more to that question.
“How long were you there?” Nia asked as she tugged on her cigarette with her lips. “We haven't kept in contact much.”
“I'm sure you already know how long I was there for,” Antonio replied with a sigh, still responding to the ceiling. His eyes were finding soft patterns on the stucco design above.
“I can't help it,” Nia flashed a grin that Antonio couldn't see. “It's not like you didn't check up on me every once in a while yourself.”
“Last I heard of you... you were part of a five woman team. I guess now I understand it was just a decoy to keep you distanced from Abaddon.”
There was the small click of the hall door opening and the waiter returned with a small tray. “Your drink, Señora,” he announced as he placed the concoction on the table between the two before making a quick exit. Antonio watched the man as he moved, part of him still wondering if there was anything more to the exchange. Nia, on the other hand, picked up the drink and took a small sip. Antonio watched her examine the flavour in her mouth as if she was standing before an El Greco.
“Do you mind if I take a sip of that?” Antonio found himself asking. “I just want to see what a five peso martini tastes like.”
“Sure,” Nia said, placing her drink closer to him. He took it casually and touched the rim to his lips.
He paused for a second, ventured a second sip, and then returned the deep goblet to its original position. “Not bad,” he sighed, as if a tension wire unwound on his shoulders. He leaned back on the sofa a bit more. “Not like any I've ever tasted before.”
“It's the Angostura. The rest tastes like... hundred proof Solitchnaya, Tanqueray, and Kina Lillet. You can obviously see the lemon twist,” she concluded with a smile.
“So who is this Don Francisco anyway?” Antonio interrupted, returning once again to his view of the ceiling.
“A biologist,” Nia replied succinctly. “He runs a clinic on one of the islands. They say he can make you live forever...” There was a twist to Nia's words as well.
“And why is he throwing a party tonight?” Antonio asked as he brought up his arms to rub some of the tiredness out of his eyes.
“A charity ball. Though it's just a front for a new biological weapon he's developed called 'Anochecer Sangriento[1]'. He plans on demonstrating it to his benefactors tonight...”
“So what does Isabella have to do with all this...”
Nia suddenly rose to her feet. Antonio could hear it too: there was someone announcing something at the courtyard.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice was booming over the microphone. “the moment you have all been waiting for. The world famous Havana Tango contest.” There was a flurry of applause that followed. “Now who will be our first contestants?”
Nia's head turned strategically at Antonio. “That's our cue,” she said plainly.
“I'm not dancing with you, Nia--” Antonio sighed.
“Not for a dance: although I wouldn't mind the detour. But now's our chance to get to what I wanted to show you. Come on.” Antonio barely got up out of the sofa when Nia slipped down one of the stairwells from the balcony. Antonio quickly followed the black and leather figure down into the crowd. Her quick steps nearly evaded him as she weaved through spectators. He was trying his best not to bump into any of the guests. By the time he had crossed the entire courtyard, he saw her climb one of the stairs to a different balcony. He quickly looked behind him before following upward.
Nia was already to the hallway door when Antonio reached the booth.
“Where--” Antonio tried to ask, but Nia's finger snapped against her lips.
Antonio walked carefully to where Nia was standing as that woman pressed her ear against the door. Satisfied with her observations, she clicked the portal open and crossed into the hallway. Antonio followed quickly behind her, shooting glances down both ends of the hallway. Nia rushed to what seemed like an elevator and slammed a key she quickly procured out of her purse into the locking mechanism. After a few tense moments of looking up and down the hall once more, the doors slid open and both rushed inside.
---
A hand reached out to touch the metal casing in the middle of the chamber. Small lights gave the laboratory a neon glow.
“Even a fourteen year old could activate the delivery mechanism,” a raspy voice assured the one touching the suspended object.
“How about a three year old?” was the question from the one with the outstretched hand.
“Well that...” the voice faltered a little. “If they knew which buttons... But any chance of escape by someone that old--”
“Don't worry about that for now. His Lordship is waiting for us to demonstrate our new weapon. Let's not keep him waiting.”
“Yes, Don Francisco. Of course.” The raspy voice gathered itself in a deep breath before catching the attention of various men (some with weapons others with white coats) with his shout: “Insert sample programme 1A and move the rest to the sub pen! Make sure those cameras are recording also!”
There was a general commotion as the capsule suspended in the middle was now lowered into a small hole below it. Lights flickered and small beeps spread throughout the room. Nia and Antonio had been watching quietly from inside one of the ventilation shafts. The intimate crawl space was also exacerbated by the grills on the vent which obscured their view: especially of the face of Don Francisco.
After the object was lowered into the ground and the floor sealed up after it, the entire room was quiet. It also seemed to be completely abandoned. It was then that Nia pushed the grill off and slid into the laboratory. Antonio crawled out after her. “Most of them should be at the submarine pen below now,” Nia explained as she moved about the monitors pressing buttons and looking at green text.
“I still don't understand,” Antonio said to her back, “what does all this have to do with Isabella...”
“Hmm... she left him alone,” was Nia thinking out loud.
“Left who alone?” Antonio asked stepping up towards the monitors. Unfortunately, the words were only gibberish to him.
“I'm afraid Isabella must have stepped out... I was hoping you could talk to her in person,” Nia lamented with a curt sigh.
“What do you mean 'stepped out'? Where did she go and why is she here?”
“The next best thing would be the proof, I suppose,” Nia was continuing to talk to herself. “Room 7G...”
Antonio couldn't interrogate her any further before Nia slid back into the air duct. Antonio took one last glimpse at the information on the screen before following behind Nia, conscious enough to replace the grill back on the vent.
The hallway that they exited into was cold. The air conditioning hummed in the background like the grinding of some giant underground worm. “7G” was written on a doorway near the end of the hall and Nia, once again with the mystery of her key, unlocked the mechanism. But instead of swinging the doorway open, only a small hatch moved in the larger frame. Nia looked inside the hatch first before looking back at Antonio.
“What's in there...” Antonio looked on curiously.
“My proof,” Nia replied before stepping aside. Antonio knelt down to the position of the hatch and looked through as well.
Immediately, however, his head twisted to look at Nia's eyes. “That's no proof! That's my son!” he shouted incredulously.
Nia's grin widened. “No, it's my proof. And no, that isn't your son.” Nia reached into her dress and pulled out a long metal tweezer. “Pull a hair sample and--”
Antonio rushed to his feet and slammed his arms into Nia's shoulders, pressing her up against that door. “Open this thing,” he demanded.
Nia tilted her head at him, and that grin quivered for a second when she noticed the wet film building up on Antonio's eyes. “I can't... and I wouldn't want to anyway,” Nia replied slowly, “this door is the only thing protecting him from the weapon. Isabella was right in putting him in here...”
“The weapon?” Antonio was dumbfounded. “Why would Isabella...”
“There's no time to explain just—” Nia tried to instruct him, but Antonio disengaged from her quickly.
The desperate man knelt down at the hatch again. “Rodrigo!” he called out through the space, “Wake up, son... Daddy's--”
“He's probably sedated,” Nia cut in. “This is your only chance at proof, Antonio.” She shoved the tweezers at his hand. “I need to close this hatch soon and we need to leave otherwise that weapon will not just kill us... but this boy too.”
Antonio was not responsive. In his kneeling position, he lowered his head until he was in that sad, familiar, position that Nia found him in when she first woke up. “Why is this happening...” Antonio muttered almost angrily, but there was a sigh tucked in that expression as if he was trying to talk while bleeding out of his mouth.
A few seconds passed as Nia merely watched the pathetic man shake his head. It was then that she dropped the tweezers on the floor and seized either cheek of Antonio's face and turned it in her direction. “I'm very sorry, Antonio,” she said plainly to his face, with her sharp and sculpted eyebrows visibly shaking, “I'm very sorry that I have to do this. But you've been through hardship after hardship just like I have... this is your chance to finally release yourself from it all.” Antonio was looking at her eyes, darting left an right, quivering in his attention to her. “Take the sample and we'll go. Even now when you feel the most alone—I”
Nia nearly caught her breath. Instead, she leaned in slowly enveloping that saddened face with the veil of her midnight hair. Her lips warmed Antonio's slack mouth. She did it slowly, tucking his upper lip between hers first before tugging similarly at the bottom. She pulled back quietly, and as her eyes reopened, Antonio's eyes locked with hers. His lips tightened for a moment and a slow breath rolled out of his throat. His palm gently moved up and touched the hand that was pressing against his right cheek. His left hand took the metal tool off the floor.
He slowly pulled back from her hold and, with one hand still connected with Nia's, he reached through the small hatch with his left arm and delicately plucked a strand of Rodrigo's hair. Nia procured a plastic vial and Antonio placed the little object into it.
Interlude
Rodrigo shoved the Timepiece into the bag. His heart was still racing from the previous encounter and Captain DeWitt looking on made him even more nervous. “Got it...” Rodrigo muttered as he slid off the platform where the object was housed.
“Luckily there's a shortcut to the subpen from here--”
Captain DeWitt walked over to one of the hallways and slid his keycard through the machine before typing in a few codes on the wall. Rodrigo took a moment to take in his surroundings as he stepped gingerly to where Captain DeWitt was working on the door. The chamber which held the Timepiece itself was the coldest place in the entire facility, he felt. Small clouds of vapour slid downward from the raised dais that had held the Timepiece at the center of the round chamber. Wires and tubes hung about on the ceiling and there were several doorways leading in and out of the chamber. It was from one of these doorways that a small object rolled into the chamber.. and detonated.
Rodrigo had managed to press his back against the central dais and he squeezed the pistol he still had with him against the back which he pressed against his chest. He could feel the circular weight of the Timepiece inside the bag. He was looking, however, at the incapacitated body of Captain DeWitt on the far end of the chamber.
“Sehen sie nach ob der Junge noch lebt,[2]” a cold voice was heard though artificially: as if it was said through a microphone.
Rodrigo could hear two sets of footsteps moving around the dais, flanking him on either side. He had no choice, he had to move. He threw the bag up and to his left and, rolling on the floor as he heard some bullets rip through the air above him, he unloaded some bullets into the heavily armoured soldier in front of him. The machine gun fire sprayed upwards as that soldier collapsed back, just in time for Rodrigo to turn to the other direction and catch the other soldier as he was turning the corner. He missed once but a sickly crack followed his second and third shots.
It was then that a masked figure slipped into his vision like a thunderbolt. A brief flash of orange air only gave Rodrigo enough time to raise his pistol high enough to deflect the incoming bullet by accident. The weapon flung out of his hand just as the second shot erupted. Rodrigo, thankfully, had lunged back to the dais, but he was already too far. When the third shot came out, only the bag that contained the Timepiece was his defense. When he pulled up the object to cover himself, the bullet ripped through the fabric and deflected to the side.
Rodrigo desperately tried to stand, holding the object in his hand. But the masked German was too quick. A fourth shot aimed for his head moved like lightning towards Rodrigo's face. But then it hovered there like a specimen caught in suspension: a bullet froze in the air. Then it dropped on the floor. Another shot, causing Rodrigo to wince, but once again, the bullet stopped a few inches from him and dropped to the floor.
“What is going on...” Rodrigo uttered in confusion.
The man in front of him holstered his gun and stepped forward to this invisible barrier that separated him from the boy. Rodrigo was too afraid to move as if moving to any other spot would somehow negate the divine protection placed upon him. He gasped as the slink of a blade erupted out of the masked one's sleeve. The German pointed it at Rodrigo's face, and then, very slowly, pushed forward inch by inch. Rodrigo watched morbidly as the blade moved closer and closer to him.
“Die langsame Klinger durchdringt den Schild[3],” the man's muffled voice said in front of him.
Rodrigo panted heavily as the blade made its way closer and closer to him... Finally, realizing that the sharp object was indeed making its way towards him, he pushed, as hard as he could, the Timepiece forward. The man in front of him fell backward and the force surprised even Rodrigo although the bag did not make any contact with the man. Rodrigo did not waste any time, however. Dropping the Timepiece, he reached down for the weapon he had dropped and unloaded what was left of his clip into the man in front of him who shuddered with every bullet fired.
One bullet in particular grazed the masks's corner and, with an explosion of vapour, cast aside the partition. Rodrigo gagged, as the face underneath revealed a mass of brain and blood. He first thought that he had blown the man's face clean off before he realized that the exposed matter and organs... was alive. The man, stood up, although Rodrigo's finger squeezed the trigger dry firing the empty weapon. “Who the hell are you!” Rodrigo exclaimed.
“Only I have the brains to use the Timepiece,” the man snickered half a face at him as he strained the Spanish words. Rodrigo could only gape in disgust at the man's true form. “But if I can't have it today, then neither will you.” The man jumped backward, back into the darkness of the hallway in which he came. That's when all went white and explosions knocked Rodrigo to the ground.
Rodrigo's mind went blank and although he had clung onto the Timepiece, all he could feel was the hotness of air surrounding him and his voice screaming out. In this white space, however, after a few seconds of nothing, he heard a voice. “Don't ever give up my son...”
A few seconds was necessary for Rodrigo to process the voice. “Father?” was the only thing that escaped his lips. It was by then that Rodrigo's eyes slowly opened. Fire and alarms were all around him and the once serene flow of vapour from the machines had turned into smoke and flame. His eyes reached where Captain DeWitt was still on the floor and he moved to him. There was slight movement from the body and, with all of his might, he heaved the soldier to his feet and pulled him up. His eyes scanned the exits, some already engulfed in flames, others locked.
The voice came again. “Follow me, Rodrigo.” It was definitely coming from one of the corridors. Heaving Captain DeWitt with him, Rodrigo pressed forward and into the corridor as the area behind him began to collapse under the fire. He sprinted as best as he could as he could feel the heat behind him rising. “This way, Rodrigo,” he heard as he thought he saw a shadow turn a corner up ahead. He followed it breathlessly, pumping his legs. He slammed his back against one of the walls as he turned, but he kept going. “Never give up, trust your instincts,” was the next cryptic clue as Rodrigo gasped and coughed the dirty air as he turned yet another corner. It was then that he could see the exit to the subpen. His last bit of energy surged him forward and as he approached the doorway, he thought he could hear faintly: “You've become so strong, Rodrigo...”
Chapter CLIX: The Father (coming soon)
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[1] “Bloody Nightfall” is the translation . Thanks to Kurt_Steiner for being a faithful hermano and coming up with this name at the wee hours of the morning for me ! Gracias !
[2] “Go see if the boy is still alive.” Thanks a bunch to our dear trekaddict , German speaker extraordinaire !
[3] “The slow blade penetrates the shield.” Thanks again to trekaddict for the translation XD .
