Hayden shrugged as Alicia continued to stare. “Crowe didn’t say. Here’s hoping.”
“Yeah, we really do deserve a secret base.”
“Are we there yet?” Smyth grumbled.
“Not yet, baby,” Alicia said in mothering tones. “Would you like to play I Spy to help distract you?”
“I’ll play anything if it warms me up.” Kinimaka shivered. “I’m friggin’ freezing up here.”
“Not quite Waikiki beach?”
“Not exactly. A tad cooler.”
The path led them across a flat plateau that stretched for a mile to all sides and then up the side of a steep, grassy hill. At the top they traversed past several rows of crumbled walls, an old settlement perhaps. Hills and mountains always lay ahead, and all around. Sparse trees dotted the landscape. The path was no wider than a horse, and for safety’s sake forced them to travel single file. Drake noticed Mai near the front and Alicia close to the back, a picture replicated by Hayden and Mano. How would they ever repair the rifts that had started to form in the SPEAR team? Should they even try?
Or break away?
But he didn’t want to think like that. Putting one step before the other, he walked with the men and women he’d come to view as family. The only family he could properly remember. A sad fact, and regretted. Everyone should remember their dad, the ways he helped and laughed and fought for you when you were young. Everyone should remember their mum, the times she cheered and uplifted you. Everyone should remember those eternal family moments.
But Drake… he didn’t. The past was past and gone.
More hills, more trekking. The team followed a GPS map toward a set of coordinates, having programmed in the easiest path. The readout finally declared they were less than a mile away.
Descending another extensive, rolling hill they saw a mostly flat plain below, its contours made up of shallow dips and long stretches of tableland. At the center of this plain a small village had taken hold, a hundred or more houses built from brick and tiles nestling within the dips or against the small slopes. Walls ringed each house and the village itself, some crumbled, others as high as a man’s chest. More houses were built together or closely adjacent as if space were a factor.
Within the village they could already spy people.
Hayden paused and studied the team. “We need a spokesperson.”
Alicia shrugged. “Don’t speak Inca.”
Even Drake cringed a little. “The predominant language is Spanish, though out here…” he shaded his eyes with his hand as the sun broke free for a brief, blissful moment.
Mai was making a show of staring at Alicia. “I fail to see any circumstance where you would be the best spokesperson.”
The Englishwoman opened her mouth, a retort already formed, but then hesitated. “Well, the Sprite has a point, I guess.”
“Maybe someone will speak English,” Kinimaka said hopefully. “Failing that we can use hand gestures. Or send someone back to town for a translator.”
Drake agreed with the Hawaiian. All they needed from Kimbiri was a helpful hint, an indication of where the mysterious man’s house might be. The mountains were too vast and dense to check any other way and the trails that crisscrossed them too treacherous and plentiful. Short of staking out Cusco for his next shopping trip, they really had no choice. And not enough time.
“Let’s try,” he said and walked steadily down the path. Surrounded by the vibrant scenery and bracing day he could almost believe the team were content with their lots, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Smyth walked alone, head down, having refused all offers of help or concern since Joshua died. Drake understood it was a testing moral situation that the soldier found himself in. On the one hand Joshua had been part of the Cusco Militia, no doubt immersed in more excessive endeavors than they would ever know, but it had been Smyth’s blow that killed the man. Joshua had been tied down — no heat of battle struggle. Hayden also seemed a little subdued, recently trying and failing to bring herself up and out of the doldrums. To Drake, it was a team problem; a great, blood-curdled whirlpool of moral decisions, repercussions and guilt. It couldn’t go unchallenged.
Drake knew the event was a big, barbed thorn of fate. The moral standpoints would be discussed elsewhere. Joshua was a cold-blooded criminal, a killer with no conscience. Drake tended to afford his kind less understanding.
As they drew closer to the village, several inhabitants scooted away. Others chose to hide. Drake watched them with concern. Surely they didn’t look that threatening. Weapons were concealed and flak-jackets were covered over. Kinimaka was at the rear; Hayden at the front. Those women he could see wore shawls, hats and skirts in a variety of colors; the men jeans and leather or denim jackets. Some wore baseball caps. They were a weathered looking people, happy with the elements and their place in the world, content with their community.
But today Drake sensed something was different.
Hayden paused on the outskirts, gave the team a warning look. “Something ain’t right here, guys. Be careful.”
Without any hint of threat, they prepared as best they could.
Closer still, they viewed the brick houses and carved out trails between. The strong walls, the livestock wandering around. Families sat huddled in the entrances to their homes. Men walked toward them down the wider main street and Drake recognized fear in their eyes. He saw a woman on her knees, wailing, head held in her hands. He saw a family gathered around her, misery so entrenched in their features it might have been carved there.
“Slow down,” Mai told them all. “Something has happened and we’re not a part of it.”
She pressed forward, concerned, as the rest of the party slowed. Drake stayed as close to her shoulder as he thought reasonable. Alicia unconsciously dropped back, joining Kinimaka. Smyth continued to show little interest, milling around the center with Yorgi and Hayden.
Mai addressed the approaching men. “We can help. What has happened here?”
Drake tried not to wince. It was natural that Mai would be the one openly concerned. She had traveled half the world to help Grace, Chika and find her parents. She had left everything behind, including him. Mai couldn’t stand to see innocent people persecuted, or in pain, only seeing her young self in those situations.
Confusion lit the faces of those closest. One said, “help?” in a halting voice, another nodded. It was the young that guessed the language and a boy that then ran off, presumably to fetch somebody. Suspicion still filled many eyes and the tears of the family never stopped. Drake understood they should not approach them. They couldn’t hope to know what had happened here. These people, despite their hardiness, were still a vulnerable folk; stationed out here in the wilderness and away from even a half-corrupt authority. Self-supportive they may be, but even independence attracted its own set of dangers.
In the end a tall, willowy woman approached, jet-black hair drawn severely back, a black hat atop her head.
“What do you want here?” Her voice was authoritative and high-pitched. “Who are you?”
“We came for your help,” Mai said. “But I now see you have some problems.” She then bowed slightly. “I am sorry. Who are you?”
“The children’s teacher,” the woman said. “Why do you think I always speak at the top of my voice?”
Mai smiled politely. “I am Mai, and these are my companions. We seek a man that lives in a house somewhere in these mountains. But now… our problems appear trivial. Can we help?”