Выбрать главу

“But you don’t have a gun.”

I shrug. “Makes no difference to me.”

Her hand tightens on the submachine gun, and I curse myself for the implicit threat. But I have dedicated myself to a role, and I must stick to it. I glare at her glumly, forcing myself to ignore the Changed Javiero still fidgeting behind me. I am the man too tired to care whether he lives or dies, and it is not a hard act to accomplish.

“Let’s kill him and be done with it,” Javiero suggests.

I continue to ignore Javiero. He is obviously not in charge. “Marie?” I ask. “You are from Bava?”

Marie does not move. The man beside her approaches me slowly. He holds his hands in the air, like an animal keeper trying to free a feral cat from a trap. I hold still, allowing him to check my tattered clothes.

“His belt,” the man reports, “is the kind given to Bava rangers. Pants, too.” He backs away from me as cautiously as he came.

“Deserter?” Marie asks. The question is not unkind, and it is directed toward me.

I tighten my jaw, realizing this is not a bluffing game I can win. “I could ask the same of you.”

Marie snorts. “We have no interest in deserters, but you can’t pass this way. Go back the way you came and we won’t kill you.” She lowers her gun and turns away from me, heading up the path while her two companions still regard me with suspicion.

I still wonder who they are. The regular military would execute me on any strong suspicion of desertion. Other deserters would not allow me to live, unwilling to risk me taking their location back to Bava. I dare to hope that I have stumbled on a friendly platoon, and I take a gamble. “I’m not a deserter.”

Marie scowls at me over her shoulder, crosses her arms. “Prove it.”

I search for a way to do that, but my mind is sluggish. “I’m a Changer,” I try.

“Changers desert,” Marie says.

“I am…” I hesitate to give my name and rank, as I realize that those won’t help. Anyone can desert. “How long have you been up here?” I ask.

Marie’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why?”

“Have you picked up an enemy mayday recently?”

Marie shakes her head, but her companion touches her on the elbow and gestures for me to continue.

“A week ago—no, nine days ago—we air dropped on an enemy cargo plane when they started to move their air base up. They got off a mayday before we were able to secure the plane.”

“And what happened to you?” Marie asked.

“Their pilot sacrificed himself to knock me out the cargo door.”

“Nobody tries air drops anymore,” Javiero growls, reminding me of his presence. He’s moved closer, and I try not to tense. “We have no planes, no pilots, and no runways.”

“Rodrigo is my pilot.”

Marie raises her eyebrows, the muzzle of her submachine gun twitching. For a moment I think she will shoot me, and then she laughs. “Rodrigo. Only that son of a bitch is crazy enough to try an air drop with one of our last working planes.” She purses her lips. “He’s with the Vicuña Platoon, correct? You have both a Smiling Tom and a Changer, which makes you…” She seems to search her memory. “Teado.”

I’m surprised she knows my name. “That’s me.”

She glances at her companion. He says, “The story checks out. The mayday said a Changer was on board. And if it was Rodrigo…”

Marie shoulders the strap of the submachine gun, letting it fall by her waist. “Stand up,” she tells me.

I allow myself to relax for the first time in over a week and climb to my feet. If they are going to shoot me, I decide, they would have already. There is a niggling doubt in the back of my head but I ignore it. I am too tired, too hurt, too alone to care. They are from Bava and they seem friendly, and I decide I will go with them even if it means my death.

“I am Marie,” she says, then gestures at her hitherto unnamed companion. “This is my cousin, Martin. Behind you is Javiero.”

I shake hands with Marie and Martin. Javiero ignores my offer. He shoves past me and heads up the path with a grunt, stalking along, still Changed. I watch him go, before turning my attention back to Marie.

“You’ve been heading north,” Marie says. There is an implicit question and I decide on a show of good faith.

“Returning to my platoon. The airdrop was quite a long ways from here. I’ve been walking since.”

She gestures for me to follow, and I fall in just behind her as we work our way up the mountain path. “Do you still have a long ways to go?”

“Six or seven miles how the crow flies,” I say. I curse myself silently, frustrated that I gave away our hidden location so easily. I should be more suspicious, even with friends. “Where are we going?”

“To our camp,” Marie responds. “We can give you one night succor, and supplies to see you back to your platoon.”

Rocks turn beneath my bare feet, and goose bumps form on my skin. I remember how soft and vulnerable it is to be human. Luckily I am not so removed from my childhood on the Bavares that I cannot walk barefoot in the mountains.

“Who are you?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the dark figure of Javiero up ahead. “I’ve never seen three Changers together before.”

“Special mission,” she replies. “Special circumstances. I’ll let Commander Paco tell you about it, if he thinks you need to know.” She hums to herself absently, then continues. “I’m surprised you made it this far. That new air base close to Bava has them running patrols all day, and they’ve even got a functional road.”

“Are you here to destroy the new air base?” I ask, even though I know we are far to the north of the base. I am immediately suspicious of conflicting orders, and hope that we—my platoon, and this special group—are able to stay out of each other’s way.

“I’ll let Paco explain,” Marie says.

Before I am able to press further, we reach the top of a ravine and pass over a ridge, and I am suddenly struck by a vision I did not expect this far into the mountains.

In the valley below us is a camp. It is much larger than Commander Giado’s camp, easily four or five times the size. I count sixty motorbikes and dozens of tents before I give up.

Martin taps me on the shoulder, and I realize I have stopped in the middle of the path.

It’s been years since I have seen so many soldiers in one camp, and that was back in Bava—not here in the wilderness, pushing back at the enemy’s foothold in the Bavares. There are cookfires, and the sound of generators, and electric lights. I see several mechanics working through the night in one corner of the valley. I am speechless.

“You have a Smiling Tom,” I say, watching the way the smoke from the cookfires disappears as it reaches the top of the ridge.

Marie nods, tight-lipped. I find my feet and follow her down the narrow incline into the valley. Now that I think to look for them I note tire tracks in the gravel at my feet, and I wonder how such a large venture—moving so many men up here into the mountains—was not reported to us when Rodrigo visited Bava over a week ago. Hell, they could have sent us a coded message to expect reinforcements. It would have raised morale something fierce.

We enter the camp. The few cooks and mechanics out at this time of night stare at me curiously, and I am suddenly more conscious of my bare skin and shredded clothes. Marie disappears into a large, dark tent in the center of camp. I can hear whispers, and she reappears a few moments later with a nod. “Commander Paco will meet you in the morning,” she says, “but he says to give you a tent and something to eat. I think we can find you some clothes, too. He’s pleased that you’re a friendly.”