Hajji Giray I said:
The official stamps and returns Levarge's paperwork; "All in order sir - enjoy the sunny nation of St. Esprit!"
The General cruised south on the narrow mountain roads that led from the border crossing near Eutopia City down to Castries. For the most part, he kept to the speed limit, but as the sun went down he let the car have its lead, and the black Corvette ripped down the turns and dips. The top was down, the wind roared past him, and The Clash blared from the radio.
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
Cause London is drowning - I, I live by the river
Marcus Levarge was on the road, trying to leave it all behind for a few days.
Now get this
London calling, yes, I was there, too
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!
London calling at the top of the dial
And after all this, won't you give me a smile?
London Calling
I never felt so much ALIVE ALIVE ALIVE
He spent the first evening at chateau with a small vineyard near Val d'Or, high on the side of the valley. The old stone house had a commanding view of the land around; an excellent defensive position. He dined on roasted pork and an excellent deep red vintage. During the tour of the cellars part of his mind was savoring the aromas of the aging casks; the other part was calculating the amount of RDX that would be needed to drop the old stone walls of the chateau on its defenders, so the Eutopian advance could continue to the coastal plain.
He allowed himself the luxury of rising after the sun, and set off again, trunk loaded with fine cheeses, crusty bread, and more of the red wine. He reached Castries by noon and roared through, on toward the southern coast at Thio. There, in the late afternoon, he sat in shorts and a t-shirt, leaning up against the hood of his car, bread and cheese spread before him. A calypso band was playing steel drums nearby. Levarge wore aviator-style mirrorshades and tore at the bread while part of his mind was enjoying the view of the nude beach, and the other half was wondering whether the tides would allow for an amphibious landing here.
And The Clash played on.
And they gave us the grapes that went ripe in the sun
That loosen the scews at the back of the tongue
But we still told nothing 'bout what was to come
Four horsemen
He slept out on the beach that night, and with dawn set his car toward the sunrise. Up the coast road toward Villeneuve, past the quaint fishing villages and the rice paddies, each one a little strongpoint along the road south. The paddies brought him memories of a war he had never fought in, but had gamed out a thousand times with the Americans, and he could almost hear the Hueys landing soldiers and the rockets flying from the Cobras and the smell of the napalm cooking rice and flesh alike. He spotting a rusting '65 Mustang in a front yard and, 500 ducats later, watched a tow truck pulling his new project away on the long road back to Quarters One. That night was spent in a fleabag hotel outside of Villeneuve with a nameless woman.
When they kick at your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun?
And the next day the Corvette was idling in front of a run-down bungalow on the water in Fort-aux-Francais, and he was looking at his childhood home. Clearly neither his brother nor sister had taken the time to help Mama with repairs in the past years. The urge was strong to knock on the door, lean over so Mama could kiss him on the cheek and lead him over to the dinner table and serve a bowl of that rich fish gumbo that was always simmering on the stove. But he knew that, more likely, Mama would just toss the bowl of soup in his face and chase him away as the traitor he was. Instead, he ruffled ten thousand ducats in an envelope, confirmed they were all there, and put it in the mailbox.
As he turned the car to leave, across the street he saw the electrical substation that provided power to most of the port area of Fort-aux-Francais. A primary bombing target in the first minutes of the war. Squinting, he could see them, two F-4 Phantoms dropping out of the darkening northern sky, screaming through a low level bombing run, five-hundred pound bombs tumbling off in a line, smashing the substation and everything nearby. He could feel the house behind him explode from a near miss on the substation, his childhood getting chalked up as collateral damage. He revved the engine and sped way, The Clash still playing.
The king called up his jet fighters
He said you better earn your pay
Drop your bombs between the minarets
Down the Casbah way
Marcus Levarge turned the car to the east, on toward Verneuil and his real family, the 3/6 Brigade and the Eutopian Army. The General had finally put St. Espirit behind him.