 
CACTUS LAND

A Novel

By

Robert Bonomo

December 2004

Madrid

For Maite

'This is the dead land

This is the cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man's hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star.'

T.S. Eliot, 'The Hollow Men'

Copyright 2009 Robert Bonomo

Smashwords Edition

Cover image Soundrack to the Apocalypse by David DeFigueredo Copyright © David DeFiguerdo 2005

CHAPTER 1

The train snaked its way slowly through the stunningly tall buildings, across wide pedestrian streets lined with fashionable shops and gently came to a stop on the raised platform of the shiny clean station of Zephyr Park. A light mist fell on the fading light of the overcast day. Alex skipped down the wide crowded ramps through the stampede of wet shoes and the ruffling sounds of raincoats and opening umbrellas.

His eyes jumped in thought, pleasantly anticipating the Thursday evening and planning for the weekend. He was well tucked into his raincoat below the now-lit pedestrian street, the moisture not yet able to soak into his hair. He jumped up the step of the store full of the energy and single-mindedness that comes with the planning of pleasure. He carefully maneuvered the bouncy rubber gangplank, on each side large screens with consoles demonstrating new games. A fashionable immigrant salesgirl sullenly asked what he wanted.

"Part III of Fabian's Journey please." It was payday, the world was fresh and full, the card slid majestically through the computer. Behind her stood a large black curtain with a sign, "ADULTS ONLY". He took the bag and walked through the curtain, her glance warmer. Through the curtain stood a row of mannequins fitted into a kind of wetsuit, with bulges around the genital areas and remote controls in the hands. Behind them flashed the erotic films that were programmable to coincide with the impulses emitted by the suit; the large screens had menus of fantasies. At the end of the row was a middle-aged woman, carefully reading the description of the suit. Alex walked down the aisle, browsing lazily, looking toward the woman who nervously turned her head. He brusquely turned back and left the store.

Down a side street and through a gate that protected a small garden with wet wooden tables; it was almost night. The music snuck under the door. Inside a variety of old chairs and beanbags were filled with people younger than Alex. He stood out in his fashionable sports coat and large, attention getting shoes. He wore what that they would wear in ten years if they did what they thought they would do. He hadn't smoked since Sunday, and the smell of hash and marijuana mixed with tobacco smoke was thick enough to make him want to indulge. His mouth and jaw longed for nicotine.

He gratefully spotted a corner table with a comfortably standard chair. "Hi Simon, how's things?" The dreg locked waiter shrugged lazily. "A Bombay and tonic and a pack of Marlboros, have you seen Wicki?"

"He'll be around." Alex uncomfortably waved at a girl he made friends with on one of those Thursdays that got away from him. Mercifully, Wicki made his unmistakably criminal entrance through the door, saving Alex from profoundly realizing the capacity of gin to distort reality.

"The doctor is making a house call on a very sicko patient." Alex peered forcibly amused while he maneuvered through a bizarre handshaking ceremony. "Two sex-ex for him, two sex-ex for her, and a bag of homegrown Wicki Weed. Will there be anything else?"

"A gram of coke and a 10 Valiums, 10 mg."

"You are one sick patient. That comes to a total of one-twenty-five."

"My insurance will cover it, right."

"Not yet." As he filled his pockets he felt the satisfaction of abundance. He ordered drinks for the two of them. Wicki sprawled across the seat, never taking off the dark sunglasses. "But with all this weird stuff going on, I don't think it would be a bad idea. Yesterday there were three more leapers in Zephyr land, all teenagers. Something is going wrong man, people are losing it. And have you seen the new campaign from the Ministry of Culture, of Culture man, telling us to hold on to what is ours. What the fuck is that? What is ours? Who is us? You work in advertising, tell me what it's supposed to mean?"

"But I'm in your line, only porno and casino, online vice. But I saw it, a lot of money. Strange it didn't come from the Ministry of Health."

"Alex bro, you got on your Person Zone? See if you got selected by a Souris, cute brunette. Says she likes playin FJ."

"Yeah, I got her, nice, she's right down the street, at least she left blank her favorite positions. I mean, what are you supposed to say, 'I like being tied up too.'?"

"I am goin to check her out, and if you take all that stuff don't call me in the morning."

Alex strode through the night, eyes reaching for the tops of the eighty story towers. The dark hills and forests in the distance could have been the sea except for the occasional car or truck imitating a fast ship. There were no cars or motorbikes in Zephyr Park, only trains and bikes. Alex liked the new, clean feel of it, very satisfied with himself, awaiting the physical pleasure to be had during the next few days. From around the corner the swirling red lights flickered over a group of people, some in uniform.

As he approached the he saw the two reflective blankets, he then looked up. A uniformed man spoke to a middle aged man. "It is the fourth one today, the tenth this week just in Zephyr Hills, almost all of them teenagers." The gray-haired man slowly shook his head. Alex stared at the shape of the blankets, trying to imagine what expression they had on their faces, what the ground looked like right before impact, what was behind the crease? He had been going to save himself for the weekend, but he now had a good excuse to bring a bottle upstairs.

The wall facing the couch sustained a two-meter long by one-and a-half-meter-high television built into the wall. The drugs were placed carefully into a carved wooden box on the coffee table. To the right was a large window, the tops of the other towers visible with an occasional aircraft light blinking. By the window rested a large leather armchair facing the view. The state-run news channel lectured hopefully on the talks between the Alliance and Federation nations, the weatherman said that spring was coming to an end; soon the heat would be upon them. The TV became a console, Fabian's Journey. He relished the guide's voice; she accompanied him through the night while he wondered why he really needed anyone else.

CHAPTER 2

There was absolutely no light in the room. Matilde's eyes searched for something to focus on, but nothing appeared. She began to realize where she was and with whom. She ran her hand over the sheet to Alex's shoulder and rocked him slowly to stop his snoring. Her body tried to remember where it had been, what it had consumed, and what it felt now. She rested her head back on the pillow waiting for sleep to return.

Through the crack in the door came the faint sound of a television and its flickering light reached her. She approached the large kitchen counter that faced the living room still squinting from the lights, the windows reflecting the night again. The TV emitted a live broadcast from the street in front of a well-to-do-home, the word Standoff being used constantly. "Good morning or evening. What's going on?"

"Hungry? I have some stuff; it'll be ready in a few minutes. You know the footballer Kapi? Apparently he found his girlfriend in bed with his teammate Angeletti and killed Angeletti, and now has her hostage, they have him surrounded." The wooden bar began to fill with jars of large white asparagus, ham, cheeses, and warmed bread. He put down his beer and opened a bottle of wine. She accepted the long stemmed glass as if it were a mug of coffee. He passed her the machine rolled joint that looked so good she thought it was a cigarette. "Makes it all taste that much better." As they both timidly began to eat the, TV shouted. The camera focused on the front door, which had just been opened, a framed darkness, the commentary resembling the subdued tones of golf tournaments.

"The door has been opened, the police are waiting for Julie Voll to come out first, our information is that she will come out first, then Kapi, there she is." She appeared, her sweaty blonde hair falling in front of her hunched walk, a juvenile kick up from her toes. Then the head swung suddenly down, the body jolted forward then rolled sideways. "She appears to have been shot, I repeat, she has been shot and seriously wounded!" Kapi's long pony tail swung anxiously across the Nike tee-shirt, the large hand gun pointed to his temple, the spray of blood and the falling body.

The images were replayed in a constant loop. They ate in a long, marihuana induced silence, painfully aware of how little they knew each other, eyes glued to the repeated images, the obvious commentaries hypnotizing them. Alex became conscious of the noise he made eating. Matilde wondered how she looked, how she smelled. "I'm gonna jump in the shower. The dinner was great." Her decision bringing relief to both of them. She sought shelter in the bathroom, trying to think of a way to escape, just leave really, while she enjoyed the strong endless beating of hot water, so different from the five minutes of weak spray she was used to. Slowly the anxiety left her, and she began to desire more pleasure, her body remembered what they had done, she trembled, then the images, finally the water, just the water.

Alex smoked his cigarette. He was capturing the point he longed for, the moment of intoxication that was just a moment, before it anxiety, beyond it excess and the void of pure action. But that moment, a point on a ski slope, impossible to map or measure, with no place to remain, only a glimpse of eternity, so many nights it never appeared. Weeks, months without raising its head, but tonight, amid the blood and uncertainty, it appeared. It would stay with him like a wonderful dream for hours.

She walked toward him in black boots, with the unmistakably arrogant strut that initially attracted him to her: the strong firm legs, the arched rear, the wildly curly hair rushing out. She smiled at his gaze, her mildly vulgar perfume accenting the bouncing breasts in the tee-shirt with the star and triangle symbol of the Alliance. She sat close to him, recapturing the affection they had lost in the kitchen, her hand running up his back and into his neck. He turned and kissed her, then raised the tray with the lines. "A drink?"

"Great." She did the after line sniff. "Where are we going? I've never been out in Zephyr Hills." He wondered where she had been two Saturdays ago, another sexy immigrant girl that he didn't know. She was somewhere, but she resisted the easy explanation.

"You'll see. The music is like the place in the Old Quarter where we met, maybe a little younger crowd."

"You are the first younger guy I have ever dated. I have always had older boyfriends." How many? The lure of the immigrant girl was the mix of the severe with the wild, the ultra orthodox with the vanguard.

"Sophy told me you were my age, that you had just turned 33, you look it."

"Noo.." Shaking her head, "She always gets these things confused. She thinks everyone is her age. I'm 35, but everyone tells me I could be 30." She bit her large upper lip with her bottom teeth.

"Take this half now, and we will save the quarters for when it begins to fall off." He took a long drink and lit another cigarette. She no longer touched him. "Is there a difference? I mean, do you notice I am younger than you?" He tried to maneuver the tone, but it came out tinny.

"It's different, but don't worry, let's just enjoy things, don't you think?" He nodded, looking for the point, but it was gone. "Can we do another line?"

As the pills began to take effect, their hands found each other again, then their lips and finally the music. He felt her distance fade, but he knew it was there, beyond the drugs. He watched her move, the aggression, the confidence, the complete oneness with the rhythm. He clutched his drink and his cigarette. She moved side by side with a fortyish immigrant man, they both smiled and rubbed shoulders, almost one. She clapped her hands above her head in joy, in recognition of the perfect unison. Luckily for Alex the pills reinforced his feelings of affection and peace. It was for him her most beautiful moment. As the tune changed she strode up to him and gave him a long embrace. She purred with joy. "I want to fuck you." She whispered, and then smiled drunkenly. "I feel great."

"You are great." He felt her back and arms. Her tongue wove in and out of his mouth. Finally a song he could move to, then another, and more pills and more drinks till finally they became inseparable, completely unified by what they both knew was an artificial bond, at least most of it.

These pills are potent."

"Or maybe it is us." He responded. She grinned.

From the chair facing the window onto Zephyr Hills they watched the blinking lights from the tops of the antennas of the buildings. The night was dark and the stars stood out. She sat on his lap, nude like him. She drank water and he continued with the whiskey, a CD of hers playing. There was no sign of dawn. They relaxed in a posture that allowed them both to smoke and him to drink. He watched a plane cross the sky, very dim, very high, another close behind it, then three in a wedge. He pointed. "Look, those planes, they are flying together, like a military formation."

"They are coming back from bombing missions. My mother told me they can hear the explosions at night, even see the light flashes. But I have never seen the planes, so many of them, so small; they almost look like moving stars. What must the night look like from there?"

"But they said that those bombings were terrorists. At least that is what they say here."

"At home they say it is the Feds." The lights continued to pass, wave after wave.

CHAPTER 3

The sleek dark sports car jumped to a stop. Matilde swung her bag into the small trunk. "What was wrong with the old one?"

"The lease was running out. I got a very nice deal on this one. Did you get the phone number of the real estate developer?" He was anxious.

"Yes, I got it. You'll give me a commission on it if you take him with you, right? Remember, I am getting a part of the account's production, half of all my commissions, our team's biggest account."

"I am flying you in first class, aren't I?" The expensive watch bounced on his thin tan arm as he up shifted, racing across lanes in a violent acceleration. "If they only knew I was taking their assistant away for the weekend, and then their accounts."

"It sounds like you're fighting over slaves. I'm here because I want to be, not because I am a pawn in your game." He turned and stared, silently lighting a cigarette. She took the pack and lit another one. "Did you see the planes last weekend? My mother said there were more bombings. You think there will be any problems?"

"These pigs won't bomb their own people. This resort is very exclusive, most of the people who stay here are from Fed countries, don't worry. Is your family all right, do they need anything?"

"No, they're fine."

*

Denis pulled his weight back on the harness of the Hobbie Cat, bringing it back to the water before tacking towards the beach, both relaxing in the calm glide towards the shore. Two young men clad in white approached the boat as it stuck into the sand, one looking severely at the bright bikini on Matilde's creamy skin. "We...." Pointing down toward the boat, then another very quick and angry glance at Matilde. "We from here, us ok." Denis nodded politely and they both began to walk up toward the tables on the patio. The beach was virgin, not a structure or vehicle visible except for the two sailboats and the cabins tucked deep into the trees behind the patio.

"Some look he gave you. They have no mercy."

"Little scoundrels, I can't believe I have to put up with this."

Denis shrugged. "I suppose they are used to us taking advantage of these beaches, serving us, but they're not used to seeing a mixed couple here, and to seeing their women here in bikinis. Don't let it worry you."

The large sun gloried in its last half an hour gliding toward the trees. Denis played with his drink while Jan shook his head. Matilde looked straight up from her chair which enveloped her like a throne. Her gaze was direct and young, as if she were afraid, the red hair band keeping the wild curls at bay. Across from her sat the thin and wiry Yolanda who lingered between time, not yet beyond a certain attractive decadence. Jan scratched his gray beard and wiped his teeth with his tongue.

"I don't know. I mean, I interviewed Minister Waxson, and he told me with a straight face that the rumors were false: Alliance propaganda."

"But I saw the planes with my own eyes, right before dawn, at least fifty of them, my mother saw the explosions in the distance."

"But why aren't there ever any pictures of the planes? Everyone one sees them but never any videos."

"Jan, they are there, everyone has seen them." Answered Denis

"Have you seen them?" Jan asked. Denis rolled his head back. Yolanda took off her sunglasses and looked directly at Matilde. Jan continued. "I believe you." Looking at Matilde. "But it's more complicated than it seems. There could be weapons programs going on that are dangerous. There's an enormous amount of uncertainty."

"But what right do they have? How are we to ever develop?" Yolanda shook her head as she spoke as Matilde pleaded with them.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that it is not weapons they are bombing, but fossil fuel fields and refineries. I think it is a last ditch effort to save what is left of the atmosphere. Don't you see, the Federation is eighty-five percent clean energy; the Alliance is almost all fossil. I know, they use what they have, for years it was their treasure, but if it isn't stopped we are finished, if not already."

"I've seen that in the markets, actually, with the safe energy funds, the rumors are sending them through the roof. I bought some for both of you through the trust. By the way, did your cousin sell the sailboat yet?"

"No, I told him to call you. How are we doing this year? I have been so busy that I really haven't even looked."

"Fantastic, we have moved it all into safe havens and it has paid off." Matilde?s eyes grew as the sun faded and a silence fell upon the lonely table. Anxiousness gripped them. Cigarettes lit up, ice swirled while Matilde?s eyes grew even larger. Their breathing became strained, more drinks and the orange faded to a dark blue sky.

"Didn't see any orcas, did you?" Asked Jan with a grin.

"No, that happened up the coast, about two hundred miles from here. It only seems to happen when there're in large groups, popular beaches." Answered Denis.

"I used to go to that beach when we were children." Her voice fading.

"They say they confused them with penguins, a bit warm for penguins though, wouldn't you say?" Added Jan.

"I'll stick to the pool." Finished Yolanda.

"My uncle is a fisherman. He used to tell us about catching tuna in the straits, they would hook them and fight for a long time, and the Orcas would wait close by. They would throw rocks, scream at them, but they would just wait, and when the tuna was tired and they were ready to bring it up into the boat, the Orca would eat the whole thing, except for the head. He hated them. He was probably one of the ones who went to hunt them."

*

They lay facing each other nude on the couch in the suite. The breeze gently shook the wooden Venetian blind. Their breath rose smoothly, only interrupted by the forced inhalation of smoke. Matilde peered above Denis's short black hair and small, handsome face. "You seem like you're someplace else. What is it? A new boyfriend?"

She smiled, looking over his head. "No, not really."

"Then what is it?"

"I was thinking about what I told you the day you told me you wanted to break it off, that I would never talk to you again. And here I am. I really don't know if I should be here."

"Are you having a bad time?" His tone offering an above it all understanding. "I don't want these types of getaways to hurt you. I know you had a tough time when we broke up."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. But why don't you bring her, the painter?"

"I told you, we're not in a stable relationship."

"But you sleep with her, right?"

"Sometimes. It's a shame I can't convince the both of you to come together some weekend. I'd love to sleep with both of you."

"I saw her once. She was very pretty, a very nice body. I liked her breasts, for me no problem."

"Did you ever sleep with Sophy after the failed attempt in the bath?" He asked.

"No, I suppose that was the moment. You never called her, did you? I mean, after we stopped seeing each other."

"No. Why?"

"Because I knew you liked her, and she was attracted to you. She told me."

"Aha, another possibility. You're a good organizer. Let's get these thing worked out."

"We'll see." She filled their wine glasses than lit another cigarette. "You know one day I am going to find another boyfriend and these trips will be over. I've been thinking about having a baby, and I am not getting any younger." Her knees spread and he stared at her sex.

"You're at the perfect moment for a woman." She poured drops of wine on her tummy and put down the cigarette.

*

"We haven't stopped, these young guys have nothing on me."

"No, they don't, not at all."

"Sounds like I am being compared to one."

"I have been seeing a younger guy. He's thirty, but nothing like you."

"You use condoms, right?"

"And what about you?"

"Always."

"So do I."

"Is this the possible future father?"

"No, I don't think so, too young. I can't feel right with a younger guy. Your age is perfect, eight years older than me. In our culture it is very normal. My father is twenty-one years older than my mother. They met on their wedding day, all done through pictures."

"Are they happy?"

"Well, they get along. Once in a while he'll get a little violent but now that my brothers are older he doesn't hit her anymore. She laughs at him, but I suppose they get along all right, in her own way she understands him." Her eyes avoided his while she spoke, flicking the ashes nervously. "You never want to settle down? Just go from flower to flower?"

"Maybe someday. Look at Jan and Yolanda. They're happy. They are really good people, don't you think?"

"Sure, very nice. Were they both friends of yours?"

"We all went to the same school. We have known each other since we were kids. Our parents are also friends. I often envy Jan. He really does something constructive. You know how I like to write and be around artists, but I never had the guts to do what he does, just do it, forget about the money."

"But he has a trust, right?"

"Yeah, but it's just enough to keep them going, but without any frills. His income from the articles isn't very steady, and he paid to publish the book of poetry." He turned and raised his head. "You know I'd really like to meet your family. You never introduced them to me."

"Ah, but not now. I told them we broke it off."

"Tell them we are back together so I can meet them."

"We'll see."

*

Matilde's body climbed and fell through the sand, the wrap around cloth skirt reaching the middle of her thigh, her sandals in her hand. She seemed small beside Jan as they approached a path that rose out of the beach and up across the rocks where Denis and Yolanda turned out of sight. "This is a beautiful country. I can see why your parents came back here to retire."

"And the pension goes a lot farther. I am worried about them though. Do you think this conflict will get resolved?"

"Maybe. It depends on coming to an agreement over the energy policies and weapons programs. There's a lot of money involved and the cultural and religious problems. You never know how much each side is manipulating these groups or being manipulated by them. But anyway, your parents will be ok; they are using very specific targets. I think we are more in danger from terrorist attacks then the people here from the bombings. Some even say the bombings don't exist, that they're rumors invented to keep recruitment high in the terror groups. I know you say your mother saw them, but they could have been set off by someone here. What do the young people here think? The people in your family. Do you know anyone really involved in these groups?"

"There is not much work, so they either emigrate or stay here and barely get by, but the truth is the only real radicals I have met were second generation immigrants, usually doing pretty well. Here most people are more worried about work." They continued along the path that sloped above the beach, Matilde and Jan following Denis and Yolanda. The path became more difficult as it rose, at points only a few feet wide. The calm silence reassuring Matilde that Jan and Yolanda knew the path. The sharp black rock curved out to the orange sky; the four reached the end with moments to spare for the sunset. Matilde put Denis's hand in hers as they both leaned on a rock, the light racing away leaving an orange semicircle.

"We have a full moon to light the way back. We can stay a while if you like." Everyone seemed to agree that the moment and place were worth maintaining. The beach had become cliffs, and the waves now were far below, more menacing. Denis's hand wrapped around Matilde, he gave her two kisses on the cheek and she turned and gave him a big rare smile, her large front teeth shining freely. He brought her head on to his chest and stroked the long black curls.

Her head suddenly rose and turned toward the sea. They all looked seaward toward what began as a humming sound and quickly became a roaring scream. The fighter-bombers rose slightly off the cliffs, the pilots' helmets visible in the last rays of light. The roar of the jets rose and fell as they passed over; the Federation symbol dark across the fuselages and tails of the aircraft. They returned to the hotel in silence.

CHAPTER 4

The re-planted forests sped by under the overcast Saturday morning. Alex skimmed the paper, bored with the same stories about weather control and new fuels, unable to concentrate. They finally found a living creature on Mars, not just a fossil or bones, some kind of worm. He wondered if the Martians were big fisherman, or maybe they were psychedelic worms but his mind was elsewhere. An anxious joy had captured him all week, the two phone calls with Matilde raising his spirits. He imagined her talking about him to her mother and sister during the weekend trip she had taken to her country. Specks of rain began to sprinkle the windows of the train, running down in long lines across the thick glass. He left the paper on the chair and walked to the bar car to have second coffee and smoke a cigarette.

He had a comfortable hangover, the kind that invited conversation and pleasant thoughts while he smoked and savored the coffee. He was gently rocked by the train as he admired the rustic life on the farms. He was lost in a friendly conversation with a university student returning home for the weekend when he suddenly heard his home town called as next stop.

The two sisters waited smiling as the train came to a stop. Alex admired the similarities between them, only height and hair color distinguishing their faces. His mother the taller, slightly thinner of the two, with blonde hair, jeans and sweater contrasting his aunts flowery long dress. "We are taking you to lunch, we have found new restaurant that we both love, oriental vegetarian."

"You two will eat anything as long as you don't have to cook it."

"Not true, your mother and I have made lasagna and chocolate cake in honor of your visit, that will be for dinner." His aunt's dark blue eyes always remained a beat too long on her co-conversant, giving a spooky thrill to every thing she said.

The two story attached house had a small screened in patio between the garage and the rear entrance. The water from the four tiered fountain left a soft echo; hanging plants, gargoyles and statues created an open and inviting esoteric atmosphere. His aunt startled him by lifting his empty tea glass, peering into the cup while she moved it to inspect the leaves. "A new girlfriend. She's not from here." Looking in his eyes.

"Maria, doesn't he look more and more like his father?" Said his mother. Maria nodded, not taking her eyes off him.

"He does, more handsome I would say, his father had that funny hook at the end of his nose. I always wanted to snip it off. Alex has a good nose. So, tell us about the new girl."

Alex shook his head in disbelief, then laughing. "I met her through girl at work. She was showing us some pictures of a trip she took and I saw a picture of her friend, and told her I wanted to meet her. She works in private banking."

"Well, let's see if you introduce her to us. How is work?"

"What do you actually do? I could never understand it." Quipped his aunt before he had a chance to answer his mother.

"I work in an interactive advertising agency, all those ads you see on the internet, some of them are mine." Both women shook their heads approvingly, not wanting to get involved in excessive details.

"Now tell us what you think of the Cocoon stories. We were talking about it before you came, we have different ideas on what it is, but we would like to hear what you think. Martha honey, can you heat up some more water, we can use this tea again."

"Sure, but I just want to hear what they are saying in the capital about this." They both leaned on the table, the four blue eyes peering seriously. "You know, they found four more here on Thursday."

Alex was slightly amused by the attention and seriousness. He recalled the stories of the bodies found wrapped in silk thread that had been appearing in the sides of road, in parks, the victims almost always young girls. But his expression became serious, almost tearful when he remembered the leapers. "What I've heard is that they're part of the same suicide plots that have been going on recently, the leapers where I live. They say its all part of a complex organization that creates meetings, sends MMM messages and somehow is convincing these young people to enter into the plots, there are even rumors that it's organized through the Alliance countries as a destabilizing technique, from some ancient mystic sect that could control people from a distance. There are even campaigns on the internet that apparently are religious groups but wind up linking to sites promoting leaps of faith, and weird chats about UFO's and going over to the other side and leaving the physical world. I know that there's definitely people organizing these things, they've got a lot of money and always pay up front."

"A lot of people are talking about the UFO's. They see the lights at night, very high, in formations; they think that they are manipulating us." His aunt's eyes were growing especially large as he spoke.

"I saw them last weekend, but I think they were military planes coming back from missions in the Alliance countries." Added Alex.

"Some are military planes, but we saw something different the other night, right Martha. They were doing very strange things, almost as if they were fighting each other, or moving one behind the other, one looked like it burned up. But I think the cocoons are used bodies, used up in tests or maybe even left impregnated with extraterrestrial babies. There was a woman on TV who lost her daughter. She said they gave her an urn of ashes, but they never let her see the body."

"Honey, we're really worried. We're alone here, if anything happens please try and get back as soon as you can." Her face lost all the tabloid thrill, and for the first time since the crisis began he felt truly scared. "You can bring your girlfriend, what ever you want, but we are here alone and I really think something is going wrong."

"Babe, maybe you can come with your mother and I to the store and help us stock up on things, just to have everything set, there are a lot of rumors."

"Your aunt believes more the UFO angle, but I think this is some kind of psychological manipulation. Some of the deaths maybe suicides, but I think a lot of them are murders, murders made to look like suicides and cause the collective suicides or chain suicides. I think it is the Alliance Countries way of fighting back, a new kind of terrorism. Our governments don't want to say anything because they'd seem vulnerable, that's why there are all these campaigns now about "Hold on to what is Ours."

"But Martha, if it were the Alliance countries, why wouldn't they use it as the excuse to attack them, everyone says they are attacking them now, this would be the perfect propaganda to bring us all to a war pitch, but they don't. They tell us to "Hold on to what is Ours.

*

Alex pushed the large shopping cart full of canned foods, water, fuel, bags of coal, his Aunt behind them with another full cart. "I will take this one through and load the car. I'll be back."

"Honey, I wanted to let you know that I took a second mortgage out on the house a few months ago, before things got so intense, now they have stopped giving them, take this." She place a wad of large bills in his hand, he hadn't touched so much cash in a long time. "Just in case you need to move quickly, it is good to have cash."

Though only a two hour train ride from the capital, the small provincial town seemed very far away. "Mom, don't you think that maybe this is all a lot of hype to get people to spend money? In the city no one is stocking up or talking about keeping cash."

"Because the city makes you a fatalist, you know that if anything happens your only chance to survive is to get out, and the most likely thing is that you'd be killed instantly, so people make escape plans that they don't talk about or they prefer not to think about it. When you see your bosses leave, go. Don't let them convince you that they are going on vacation. Plan your escape. Hopefully it will all end in just a scare. But in the country we have more hope, especially around here. There is so little, no bases, no big communication centers."

He saw some buying as his mother and aunt were, others just buying as if it were another Saturday. He went from almost panic to seriously considering that his mother and aunt had lost their grip on reality. But the frenzy of buying became too much for him and he became obsessed. He took the small car home full twice, unloading cooking fuel, water, cans of food, coffee and tea, tape, large amounts of alcohol, cigarettes and shotgun shells for his fathers riot gun. Finally all three seem satisfied that one more car load would be enough, enough so they could at least sleep. How much was enough? What was the threat? They didn't want to discuss it. They roamed the still plentiful and relatively uninhabited aisles buying with fear and imagination.

"How much flour should we buy Martha? There are large industrial sacks here, or five or ten small ones."

"Let's take the small ones." The frenzy ended in a hangover, they were almost ashamed of themselves and the money they had spent, the conversation turned to the weather as they unloaded the last car load onto the shelves in the garage. The two sisters began the nightly homage to the gin tonic, while he organized the basement.

Alex once again became enraptured with crisis, reorganizing the tools in the basement, thinking of scenarios, nuclear, chemical, even suicide as a last resort. He assembled three of the plastic shelves that they had bought that day, finishing with the liquids, water, beer, sodas, tonics, gin and whiskey. He lit a cigarette and admired what was done and what was left to do. He smelled the basement as he had as a child, building model planes, for a moment even catching a whiff of cement glue. Work, which only a few weeks ago gave him much to think about, plan and organize, now seemed like an uneventful social obligation. He was caught between fear and active imagination. Was it too soon to ask Matilde to come? Would she go home? He liked the idea of having her with him. He took a beer from the basement refrigerator, which sat next to the batteries for the solar panels, at least they would have electricity, and the wind mill gave them water pressure and water from a local well. What would it be like if the cities were abandoned? Would it be a new childhood, a terror? The alcohol seemed to be the only thing that gave a consistent answer.

"Make your self a drink honey. Have you seen the Mars worm? Look at it, that color is very strange. It's all underground. It's an enormous cave with a lake, the robot rolled down their by accident."

"Martha, turn to the lottery drawing for a moment." There were four '7's up on the board, the last number was a six. "What strange numbers, the other day there were four '1's and a '2', this is very strange."

"Dear, let's get some more Gin, just in case. I mean, if things get bad, at least we will have something to cry into."

"We can get some tomorrow after we drop Alex off at the train. And whiskey for Alex, just like his father."

CHAPTER 5

Alex lazily observed the eight tables spread out beyond his glassed in office, the last in the row of four offices. The familiar bodies in familiar clothes moving and grouping in the same patterns as always. On his screen the weekend scores with the typical exaggerated headlines. His team, as well as their stadium, had been sponsored by the political party in power. A new trick that had given the teams a different feel, and the parties an entirely new vehicle for persuasion. Alex was a member of the opposition party, so he was beginning to lose faith in his team, as well as his hate for the cross-town rivals, who were sponsored by his party. Had he been wrong in supporting the team he did all his life? Or maybe in picking the political party, or maybe the governing party got to the best team first.

The weekend panic seemed more and more like post menopausal hysteria, but he couldn't deny he enjoyed it, and the extra money was burning, like an asteroid exploding through his pocket. Three months salary, and with orders to keep it in cash. He had left half in his drug box, and split the rest up between his wallet and his sock drawer. He felt very good, alive, with the double edge of Matilde and the crisis. He had money and they needed him at work.

As if on orders, a blink in his inbox. He savored the suspense, leaving the mail unopened until he returned with his second coffee and had lit his cigarette.

Hi Alex,

I had a great time at home; it was nice to see everyone. I really missed you. I had a

really good time with you, I want to get to know you better. I think we honestly

have something. How about Thursday night, remember, Friday is a holiday, maybe we can go out in the center and you can stay at my place.?? What do you think? Let me know.

Kisses

Matilde

Alex was convinced that things came in waves, and that this was one of the best he had had in a while. At heart a fatalist, he had decided to enjoy the moment. "Alex, they are here from the lead agency."

"I will be with you in a moment Marc." He picked up a few cards and slid them into the notebook, then slipped on the sports coat. Marc, the general manager and partner of the company, had on an old sweater with a Mao pin and old black boots bursting out of the bottom of his jeans.

"Alex, how long has it been? How are things?"

"You two know each other?" Marc's voice revealed a slight discomfort.

"Sacha and I worked together when I was with the site, always had some kind of deal going."

"But we always did lots of business, right? Okay, I want to introduce you to Simon, he is the Internet Channel Manager for the advertiser." They sat down in the glassed in conference room after exchanging greetings and cards.

"I discussed your campaign with Marc and he wanted to have this meeting to discuss the details of the campaign, as I told you. Sacha, why don't you let us now what your company does and what relationship you have to the advertiser, and than Simon can go more into detail regarding what they're about." Explained Alex.

"Great, we're a cost-per-action wholesaler. We come to agreements with advertisers looking for a specific result, in this case clicks, with media, or networks and brokers like yourself. We are the most important player within the Federation and one of the most important brokers in the world. What's surprising is that we haven't done any business in the past."

"You see Sacha, we have had bad experiences with cost-per-lead and cost-per-sale campaigns. We haven't had the results or the control we need to really do more."

"Alex can tell you, we work with all the big players, you have a password to access real time results, this campaign is cost-per-click, not to many of them around anymore, with a cost-per-profile premium, which I'll go into in a minute. And the advertiser, in this case 'Other World' is paying up front, yes, up front for the clicks and the profiles. Let me know how many you can do in a week and we will pay you in cash. We analyze the results, if they are within conversion rates that Simon is looking for. We will buy everything you have."

"Ok, as far as that goes I don't think we will have any problems running the test. As I discussed with Alex, we are a little concerned with the content of the page that the links takes you too." Added Marc.

"Hold on a second. Alex works porno and casinos, do you go into detail to what they have on their sites? I have seen some of your campaigns." Simon was silent, he stared calmly at both men.

"That is why I called this meeting. We have no problem working porno, because, in the end it is just masturbation material, and the casinos are no more that virtual slot machines, there is no mystery or real danger, apart from the potential financial loss that's very explicit."

"You will be happy to know that the average masturbatory session in the Federation is 11 minutes." Added Alex, trying to lighten up the tense conversation and not let Marc blow the deal, which was big, potentially their biggest. Alex was responsible for the largest portion of revenue for the network, with the highest margins.

"But Alex, I am sure you beat the curve, no pun intended." Alex gave him the conciliatory smile, just what the conversation needed, finally a smile out of Simon who was beginning to give Alex the creeps.

"May I?" Simon reached for the mouse and clicked on the url at the top of the page. He typed in www.otherworld.com . "This is our virtual world. Lets get in my car and I will show you around." A figure walked out of a station and got into a two-seat sports coupe, with the mouse he guided it down large avenues filled with billboards and stores.

"Have you sold all those sponsorships, or are they free links?" Asked Alex.

"We began giving them away, then once the traffic was sufficient, we showed them the visits they were getting and they began to pay for them, now some streets are sold out. Let me show you my house." He entered an area that became green, full of trees, crossed a creek where there was a fishing pole leaning against a bridge. "These are what we call lots, which we sell as a service, as you see inside the house, communication room, chats, emails, phone services, with the capacity that you choose, the library, the e-books, periodicals etc... It is your space, you live in the neighborhood that you wish, with the identity you want...whatever it is."

"Yes, I am familiar with the site, it is very impressive, but the bottom line is that this campaign links to a religious community. They live in austere rooms. Can you bring us there?" Asked Alex, not wanting Marc to get anxious.

"Sure." He clicked through a number of areas before reaching 'The Beyond.' The path led to a walled village atop a mountain, the colors were dark and a mediaeval guard finally opened the gait to the village. "The link brings you to this path. From here on it is up to you what you do. You have seen, I am sure, the offline campaign on billboards, public transportation, the ten-second spot will begin this week on TV and the press campaign will begin next month. We are now one of the biggest advertisers in the Federation."

"I'll be frank." Marc leaned over looking at Simon. "Inside the village, apart from the UFO texts, there is the church, and inside the sacrament room there is a lot of suicide content, their own content, with very specific methods, and a chat."

"All of the large search engines and major portals have the same links, for me they are just another client buying space." Added Sacha.

"We have a campaign from the Ministry of Health. We can't do this, we need them and we don't want any problems." Alex knew it was not all lost after Marc said this.

Alex broke a difficult silence. "Do you have a link to the Ministry of Health, I mean are they a client?" Simon shook his head. Alex smelled money, lots of it, and, as sometimes happens in advertising, the advertiser who has too much of it, throws it around too easily. "What if the link brought you a little farther back, with a Ministry of Health building, a little cheerier, before you get to the serious part of the road to the village, there would be a sign, and maybe a 'whisperer' he would come up and tell you to keep going up the road, but with the Ministry of Health big and obvious. What do you think Marc?"

"That we could do, as long as first you see the Ministry of Health. You would have to make the changes, and we would have to approve them."

Simon nodded. "We will have the changes ready by Thursday afternoon. Once you approve them we would like to launch this weekend. Another thing, we'd like to by selects on your Consumer Suggestion File. How many are there that can be crossed with books and films, in the Federation?" Alex knew this was a good day to make money.

"Twenty two million." He really had six million but he would sell them the entire database. Alex knew this guy was an intermediary; it wasn't his ass on the line. Marc looked over at him expressionless.

"We want to buy everything that contains books, under your categories of religion, occult, self help, crossed with any Alliance country film. We will take either interest in or buyers."

"I'll send you the numbers this afternoon, with the insertion order, please send it back to me signed. I'll organize it with the sites, once Marc gives the ok on the content changes we can launch." Alex looked at both Marc and Simon, knowing he had closed them and it was time to end things before they found a reason to back off.

Marc shook his head as they walked back to their offices. "Where do you find these people, you porno guys."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "The porno guys seem like school kids compared to this character, but he has a big budget."

"Where did you get the twenty two million? I think there are something like six million?" The conversation had the relief of a victorious beer after a tough match.

"Right out of my ass. I knew he wanted them, but we have seen in other campaigns that the results don't change that much with the segmentation, even though we say it does. We can keep it out of the buy order giving the excuse of the Data Protection Law, so even if he finds out, at least it's not in writing" Marc nodded then shook his head.

"Alex, did you get the MMM message about going to Republic square at 11.30AM?" Carolina seemed anxious, the large silver necklace wrapped around her long neck, she had a soft pleasant face, dark black hair to her shoulders, and shapely body.

"No, but do you wanna go? I am ready for lunch, today is my treat, how about that pizza place you like."

She gave a sweet smile, the kind that you remember before falling asleep. She put on the large dark sunglasses as soon as they left the building. Alex gagged at the heat, shaking his head while he reached for his glasses. "I can't believe this, this is way too early for this kind of heat, this is as bad as the worst day in summer." Carolina buttoned down her shirt but the sweat appeared almost automatically. "Do you know what this is about?"

"No, I am just curious, apparently they happen a lot, let's just see who's there. How did the meeting with Suicide Simon go?"

"Your kidding, is that what they call him, very sinister guy, but we closed a deal, no easy job convincing Marc. He was worried about losing the Ministry of Health campaign. How do you know about him?"

"Some of the media buyers told me about him, there are rumors he is working for the Alliance countries; they even say he is the mastermind of some of the suicide pacts." She looked up at him raising her eyebrows.

"Great, I am now responsible for kids jumping out of windows, not just for them spending fortunes wanking themselves and gambling. But I know they'll sell him the media anyway, if we don't he will go directly to our sites, somehow he will get the impressions he wants. You know what I mean? It's a lot of money."

"I know, but those banners and links are very strange. But your right, it's not like we're not selling porno and what not. There they are, see those people standing around. I think that's them." They walked up to the fountain, which spewed water out of the torch of an ancient god into a small pool full of coins. There was a circular sidewalk around the fountain with trees and benches, then the roundabout and the stores that closed the circle. A handsome man in his mid twenties, wearing a fashionable suit looked at his telephone while leaning against the edge of the fountain. He looked directly at them, then swung his head toward the sidewalk around the fountain. They followed the swing of his head, as if under orders. Her phone beeped with a new message. "At 12.00 AM stop and face the fountain in complete silence."

"What did this god mean, wasn't he the god of war?" Asked Alex.

"Yes, the god of war and fire in the ancient mythology. What do you think this means, a lot of people." From behind he felt a tug on his jacket.

"Hi Alex." The sound of her deep voice excited him. He turned and stared, Carolina stepped back. "This is Denis, an old workmate of mine." They shook hands and Alex introduced Carolina. "So you got the message." She said hopefully.

"No, Carolina got it, what is this about?"

Denis said seriously "Peace, just peace." Alex nodded and Denis motioned with his head toward the fountain. The four of them stood silently. Alex looked toward Matilde but her eyes stayed focused, he then looked toward Carolina who raised an eyebrow in response to his expression. A photographer moved liked a dancer through the crowd. He moved directly in front of the four of them. As if a school of fish, the crowd suddenly dispersed.

"I'll see you on Thursday. He's an old workmate and he wants to talk about work and the people we know." She almost whispered it so Denis and Carolina didn't hear, then winked at Alex.

*

"Who is she?"

"A girl I'm dating, what do you think?"

"Very sexy, her friend is very handsome too, what do they do?"

"Private banking, she works for brokers who handle accounts from the Alliance countries. He must be a broker. Another beer? Or a bottle of cool white wine?"

"The wine, what the hell, its Monday. So, you seem interested, how did you meet her?"

"She is a friend of Sophy, she introduced us?"

"Ohh...."

"I know, but she isn't like Sophy. So, what does the female intuition say?"

Carolina let the waiter poor wine and took a sip before beginning. "She fits you, pretty, modern, exotic just take your time, let things work themselves out. I don't think this is the kind of girl who wants to be smothered."

Alex nodded. "Good advice, what about the demonstration? He was a bit pedantic with the peace, just peace bit. I hate when people talk to me like they were my guru. What peace? Peace for the Alliance countries, no more bombing? Or the environment, no more burning fossil fuels, cultural peace...Alliance terrorism here. First Suicide Simon then this. And this heat."

"Maurice wants to leave, go to the northern territories, his parents have a completely autonomous farm, with a cabin for him, he wants to go. You know how he likes to paint. He says we will have everything we need."

"Don't go, I need you, you are the only friend I have here, and what are you going to do in the middle of the tundra? No movies, no museums, you love going to the theatre, come on, you're an urban girl. I think everybody needs to calm down, my mother is convinced that we are on the verge of a disaster. She took a second mortgage on her house."

"She's lucky, they're not giving them anymore." Alex sat back and spread out his hands.

CHAPTER 6

Matilde's forehead was tense with her hair pulled back, the kick in her walk seemed exaggerated. A man walking toward her looked at her hard; she felt attractive and powerful. She thought about what she would discuss. She always felt special on Tuesdays; the day she saw her analyst. Should I tell her about having seen Denis again? Go back into all that, but that was what was driving her mind these days, and her heart. No sense lying, what good would that do? A whistle from a delivery boy startled her. She would ask about Alex. What will I say?

Alex was to be the end of the Denis period, and her analyst was very happy about the weekend they had spent together. She didn't say so, but she could tell from her smile, as if she had guided her out of danger. She won't be happy when I tell her about seeing Denis again, and then the questions about Alex. Should I tell Alex about Denis? Did he notice? Would he be annoyed that I didn't invite them to lunch? The girl liked him. So do I, she thought. Why did I tell Denis that he was the possible father? I felt like I was degrading him. Denis didn't like that fact that he was so handsome and taller than him, and that pretty girl also made him a little jealous. They're all like little boys. No reason to tell Alex, way too early. See how things work out.

A very handsome man came out the elevator, fortyish, nice suit. Was he Mr. Tuesday at 5.00PM? Did they sleep together? The door was left open as always. She waited in the study for Angela to come out. Hundreds of classical CDs, the classical station played on the radio. Did she do it for effect or did she really like this music? Sometimes it was annoying. Denis loved it. He had such a cultivated sensibility, the painting, the music, even the clothes. And the way he handled the sail boat, so sure of himself, so relaxing. Why did he want to see me again? Maybe the painter was boring.

The door opened. "Please." Matilde sat in the comfortable armchair that she was so used to. As always, Matilde was silent. "So, how are things? How is the new guy your are seeing?" Angela's leather pants were too big for her, the folds creating an unseemly assortment of waves on her thighs.

"Good, I think we get along, but things have gotten a little complicated. Denis called me and asked me to go away for the weekend. We went to a resort back home."

"And the new boy." She checked her notes. "Alex. Did you tell him?"

"No, I told him I was going home for the weekend." Matilde opened her eyes as if to say, I did go home for the weekend. Angela nodded her head, looking at Matilde, waiting for her to speak. Matilde looked away, and then up, breathing heavily. She knew that only she could break this silence, but she wasn't sure how. "I missed him very much. We had talked about it. I really thought he'd never call me again. I was ready to start over, and I still think I am, but when he called I wanted to see him."

"How was the weekend? How did you feel being back with him?"

"Like we'd never separated. It was very nice, we went with a couple. He is a journalist, Jan ___, it is so nice to be around people who can talk about so many things intelligently. I know there's probably no future with him. I am not part of that world. I'm an accessory for him, but I enjoy being with him, and as long as I don't have any false hopes."

"How do you feel about Alex?"

"It's different. He's younger. He is the first younger guy I have ever dated. There's something about him that reminds me of my father, something he said."

"What was it?" Angela's tone was tired, forced.

"I was telling a story about being at a restaurant, and he asked if the boy I mentioned was my boyfriend. Something in his expression when he asked me reminded me of my father." Matilde trying hard to give, to not let her to down too much.

"What about your father?" Another silence. Matilde bit her upper lip. Her breathing shortened, the analyst looking on with a sympathetic posture.

"Remember, once, when I told you he slammed the table asking where I had been, something about Alex's voice or his expression reminded me of that." Matilde nodded her head, as if she had made a discovery.

"And how did that make you feel? In danger?"

"Yes, something like that, surrounded, in danger. I never felt that way with Denis."

"I see, maybe Alex is the father who loves you the wrong way, and Denis is the father who doesn't love you enough. Alex never makes you jealous, does he?"

"No, I have never been jealous, never, except with Denis. I think he is the only person I have ever been in love with, except maybe Sophy. The night he started paying a lot of attention to her, I wanted to kill him. I really felt jealous. I invited some of his friends over to dinner, and not him, to try and get back at him." Her eyes looked far off and away from the analyst, as if she were looking at someone else. "He said 'God, she is so sexy.' I usually wouldn't mind. She is sexy, but the way he said it. She was wearing a tank top without a bra. She has beautiful breasts, that was before I got operated on, and I had a complex about being flat chested. I was furious."

"What about with Sophy, did you have any problems with her about it?"

"No, she didn't do anything wrong. She was just being herself, dancing with everyone, that's her."

"The experience you had with Sophy, it was after Denis made a pass at her, right?"

"Yes." Matilde looked up wide-eyed, like a child.

"Let's go back to the moment again, could you tell me what happened one more time, tell me what you feel as it happens." Angela made hand gestures, avoiding direct eye contact.

"It was in the afternoon, at her home, a large old home, we had lunch with her family and then went upstairs. We went in to her room to smoke a joint, and listen to some music. I remember it was hot, Sophy had on shorts and a bikini top. She was tan, she has very nice, round breasts, and I was looking at them, a little stoned, with the incense burning, and nice music. Sophy smiled at me and asked if I wanted to touch them. She gave me her hand and brought me over, putting my other hand on her breast. We kissed, first just with our lips, then with our tongues. She then took off top, I kissed her breasts."

"Did she touch your breasts?"

After a long pause. "A little bit, not too much."

"What about Denis, did he stimulate you that way."

"Sometimes, but not often. You don't think that I was competing with him, I mean, wanting to touch her as he did?"

"I don't know, but there does seem to be a certain level of competition. A game. At least that is the sensation I get sometimes when you talk about him. Like everything was a game."

"He is that way, very competitive, money, women, cars, it is always something."

"What did he get from you, I mean, what prize was he getting with you." Matilde looked down, Angela was now leaning towards her. Matilde shook her head.

"I know what he wanted from the girl he left me for, he wanted to have an artist, he loved the idea that she was a painter. I can see him driving her around, showing people his artist." The tone becoming angry.

"And what were you to him?"

"I don't know. I just know that he left me because he wanted to have a painter, that she could talk about those things, or do those things." One lone tear rode down her cheek and towards her large lip. Angela nodded, keeping her eyes on hers, spinning a medal that hung from a necklace. Matilde looked up, then down, anywhere she could without having to face her eyes. "I was his Alliance girl, his exotic Alliance girl." She shook her head, finally looking up. "Do you think he wanted to take me this weekend so he could go to the resort with a 'local' girl, to go with the food and the scenery?" Her expression now filled with disgust.

"I don't know, but I think you do. Ask yourself, does Alex want you because you are an exotic trophy or because he really likes you? Think about the two and how they relate to you. Maybe you will uncover something. Remember, if you are willing to ask yourself the tough questions, the really core questions, you will be able to confront the real dynamics that are unconsciously guiding your relationships, your career etc., but you have to be willing to go into difficult areas."

CHAPTER 7

The attendant waived Carolina through with a smile, down the drab institutional hallways, up the stairwell. No wonder he wants to leave, she thought. When she got to the door there were still two women waiting. One eyed her suspiciously; the other recognized her and smiled. "The doctor will keep you waiting a little today."

"Oh, it's quite alright, his patients always come first."

Now the other women also smiled. Carolina felt embarrassed as she smiled back. The same woman continued. "He is a fine doctor, wonderful, very patient; the people in the neighborhood speak very highly of him." Carolina observed the swollen legs and feet of the woman speaking. A role purplish flesh spread out around the tight sock. Did he have to touch the leg, she thought. Poor woman. Too bad there aren't any young ones to cheer him up, maybe not, might get too cheery

"What a handsome couple you make. Are you married?"

"No, for the moment no." Carolina smiled. He was a wonderful man, would make a perfect husband, handsome, good family, a doctor, serious. Maybe too serious. His mind was always on paintings and books. He wasn't that much fun, but he was a good man, which was the important thing. Will Alex marry the Alliance girl? No, chances are she was fooling around with the guy this morning. He had that look. He looked at me the same way. Poor Alex, has no idea, none of them do. The door opened, Maurice smiled broadly at Carolina.

"I won't be long."

"How difficult it must be to make plans. When I was your age everything was so much easier. How old are you? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Twenty eight." Carolina crossed her legs, flicking her open heel nervously as the woman continued.

"When I was your age I had been married two years. I remember we were saving to buy a house, the future seemed good, but today, I wouldn't know what to do. I am old now, but I'm so afraid for my grandchildren, what's going to happen?" Carolina shook her head and brushed her hair back behind her ear. She tried to brush the tears away, the woman moved to the seat next to her and put her arm around her and cried.

*

"How are you, how are things?"

"Oh, ok, you know, in these times we live in." She rolled up the pink nylon shirt on her thick arms. "I have got this very strange rash, all these dark blue dots on my arms. They have a very fine fuzz on them."

"How do you feel?"

"Tired, I have been sleeping a lot, but they don't itch." Maurice examined her arm.

"This is the third one I've seen today. I have sent samples to the Ministry of Health, they have told me that it is appearing here and in other parts of the country. Apparently one of the symptoms is sleepiness. For the moment let's wait, try and stay at home if you can and not have direct contact with the skin of anyone else. We will call you when we have decided on a treatment. I don't want to give you anything that could be counteractive."

"But I'll be all right, won't I? I mean, it's nothing serious, right?"

"I don't think so, just get some rest and we will call you as soon as we have something."

*

Dark clouds rolled low across the square, a refreshingly cool breeze swept through the terrace. "Can you get me another one?"

"Maybe we should go inside, it looks like it is going to rain." Responded Maurice.

"Let's stay out here until it starts." Pieces of paper began to swirl, the light was being sucked out of the sky, imitating a false sunset. Maurice returned with the drinks and they both observed the arrival of the storm in silence.

"How is work? Is there business?"

"Lots, strange, we're having a good month. Right before leaving we got an enormous buy order from a real estate company, advertising that they will buy homes for cash, apparently they are offering about 40% of the value of the home. And we demanded payment up front, they agreed. The last women, you saw, she is really nice, isn't she? What's wrong with her?"

Maurice stirred his drink, looking away. "Nothing, I mean, nothing that I can do for her, she says she can't sleep. I used to be very careful about those things, but I gave a prescription for a good sleeping pill and another one for Valium."

"Can you give me a prescription for Valium? I am getting a little nervous about things."

"Just ask at the pharmacy, tell Ana to call me and they can give it to you on the spot. Have you thought about going away?"

"I don't know, what if all of this is just nothing. I mean, if it all just turns out to be a scare. We'll be without work, living in the middle of nowhere, I don't know, maybe we're getting carried away."

"The director of the clinic has just resigned. He is from the Alliance countries, said he is going home, to live in a small town on the coast. There is a new infection, it's a rash, very strange looking blue dots, with a fuzz on them, the second to last women had it, no one knows what it is, but the patients get very tired. There are rumors that they end up sleeping all day, unable to function, we don't even know what it is or how to treat it." There was a loud crack of thunder, then a violent patter. Large balls of ice rolled on the ground and falling off umbrellas. Before getting in to the bar, Maurice got hit on the forehead.

"Are you ok."

"Aww...got me right above the eye."

"I'm sorry, we should have come in." They sat at a table by the window, watching the hail bounce off the tables and umbrellas, gradually turning into rain. "Don't get angry, but I started smoking again." She removed the pack and placed a cigarette between her lips.

"Let me have one. I can't really worry about it now." She lit his cigarette, each observing the other smoking. "Forty percent, maybe I should sell my apartment." Carolina shook her head at him.

"I don't know what we should do." Her eyes began to shine, but she held back the tears.

"Come on, it will be alright, don't worry about money, we can get married. I'm sure things will settle down in a few years, we can go up to the farm. I can paint, you can get your doctorate through the distance program. I can always find work, and so can you. I'm just saying, lets get out of here before things get out of control, wait it out up north. You will get used to it. I'll keep my place here, as soon as things calm down we can come back for weekends. Don't worry about money, you know my family has plenty of money. We will be fine, we can get married, make things official."

"I'm worried I won't be able to see my family, they'll be far away."

"No farther away really than they are now, you'll see them." He reached out and touched her arm. She found a smile.

"Ok, I really would like to get out of here. But when? I want to give some notice at work."

"Two weeks, tell them tomorrow. I'll put up a notice at the clinic. I feel terrible about my patients. I'll give them my phone and email. I can call in the prescriptions, but my life is mine. I want to leave. I want to paint. I want to get away from this craziness. One day I would've given it up anyway. I'm 36; I need to do something I really feel passionate about."

Carolina felt safe for a moment, the drinks had taken effect, for the first time she saw how right he was. They could have nice life, safe, full of nature. I'll read like I did in college, always with a book. I haven't read a book in months, so much to learn. Live more for pleasure, less stress. "How cold are the winters?"

"Cold, but we have a while yet, it is still spring. The house stays warm, don't worry. A good time to study. We can plant a garden, get some chickens and hens, you'll enjoy it. Listen, I have to see my sister Monica, she wanted to see me about something. Let me know what they tell you at work, and tomorrow I will start the paper work to get married. Feeling better?" He paid and dashed through the rain while Carolina lit another cigarette and stared at the now dark square.

*

Maurice pressed the bell beside the oval wooden door. The rain had become a mist, and the last rays of sun left a clear orange light. She sat under the veranda, paint stained jeans with a hole in the knee, a faded blue tee-shirt with the now cracked label of a whisky company. As he reached her the rained stopped completely. She looked up at him with a smile, beside her an ornamental glass bottle half full of wine and two glasses. She glanced at him then at the fountain, a woman spouting water through her breast. The garden had a very high old cement wall, the trees and shrubs wonderfully decadent. She would never be able to paint anything as wonderful as herself, he thought.

"Hi brother, thanks for coming in the rain. Have a glass of wine, dad sent me a case of it. From a new friends own harvest." He pulled up an old wooden chair with a leather seat facing the garden. The sound of the water splashing, the occasional horn, a siren. She touched his arm. "How are things?"

"Not good. I'm leaving. Carolina and I are going to the live on the farm, why don't you come. I'm going to paint, really seriously."

"It's about time. I always thought you were the one with the talent. I'm happy for you. But I want to stay. I love this house, I have my studio set up, and all that is happening has put me into a creative period like I've never known. Remember that painting you said reminded you of a De Kooning? I have done eight more, each one bigger. I've just ordered two more canvases, six meters by four. Ramon loves them, he says they will sell easily, he never says he loves anything. All I can think about is work. I work all day, it's wonderful, you'll see, once your settled in up on the farm you will find a rhythm, a work rhythm, its impossible to keep a job and paint, you arrive to the canvas and your energy is gone. You've left it with your patients, sorry brother, but it is one or the other."

"I know, I don't even care really if I am successful with it or not. I just want to do it. I need to. All that is happening has finally given me the push."

"She's a sweet a girl. I like they way you two are together, you really need the young pretty girl, it fits you, you have the father figure about you. I suppose it's what makes you such a good doctor. I'll come up and see you, once I finish the paintings for this show. She isn't worried about being lonely up there?"

"A little, but she is also scared, so am I. I mean, what is going to happen, if things are really bad, Monica, make sure you can come stay with us awhile after the show. I'm going to use that old barn behind the house. It has tons of room, you could stay in the main house and work there, just keep it in mind as an option, if things get too crazy."

"I will. But aren't you getting carried away. I really think that this is all a lot of posturing before they cut a deal. Everyone knows what has to be done, the days of saying that nothing was wrong are over, and nobody is still claiming that these are natural cycles. I really believe things will get worse but eventually there will be an agreement. An economic agreement with real, enforceable limits, and we will just have to stay within them. We are almost there, the problem is with them, but they aren't stupid. They know what will happen if things continue like they are. I'm really convinced that they're playing tough, and so are we, before the final agreement is made. I still think it is a great idea that your are going to paint, it will be good for both of you, maybe start a family up there, someone has to give dad a grandchild."

"How about you? How are things with the banker?"

"Bahhh, nothing really to keep me interested. These guys with all this money, they want to do and learn other things, but I really believe they can't, as much as they want to everything falls into the bought or sold category." Maurice nodded. "It's sad, because he is very bright, but in the end there is nothing there. I even think sometimes that I am part of the show. You know what I mean. Anyway, I had fun, it had been a while since I had so much luxury lapped upon me."

"I think they are the ones that have gotten us into this mess, it was always more and more and now that we've come to the brink, they want to solve it all like a bunch of cowboys in a Hollywood movie, honestly, that's why I'm so scared. These guys want to keep carving things up their way, you can't really pay too much attention to what they say, and god knows what they are capable of. Someone or some group is now buying houses, giving 40% of the market value."

"The banker, he has been making more money than ever, he told me about it, says that contrary to what most people believe, crisis's are very predictable, that as long as everyone is in a crisis mode it is easy to make money. The only hard part is getting out before the tide turns. Dad has a guy like him, handles all the investments."

"Have you talked to him lately?"

"He called last night, he is worried. He told me you were thinking of going North. Apparently he and Isabel feel safe on the coast, it's true, they are far away from the city, she has a big place, live-in help, a gardener, they'll be alright."

"What does dad think about this? I think he is more like your banker friend than you think. When he starts talking about the Alliance countries, and when he had the factory down there." Maurice shook is head and took a cigarette from a pack on the ground.

"Not you, you have started smoking again? The world has gone crazy. I know, he has some very old ideas about how things should be split up, but remember, he worked hard, really believed he was doing something good, giving people jobs, you know what I mean. You two are so different. I think it was harder for you. I was the girl, there was no pressure for me to go into the business, but when mom died you had to face him alone, but anyway, I think it all worked out for the best. I think you were right to study medicine, if you hadn't you would have never realized what you wanted to do."

"It's true, because I couldn't have done it the other way around, and it's been a wonderful school. But, at least for the moment, I really can't continue. I have never been so clear about things, ever. The clearer they become the less attached I am, especially to people. It's a little scary. You and Carolina, that's it."

"Don't be scared, the only way to work is alone, you need the solitude to grow as an artist. Carolina is the perfect partner too, she won't be the kind to smoother you. The moment to really work is when you feel the need to be alone, if you feel like you need people better to wait."

"But what scares me is I have a strange feeling that I have figured out the game. I know it sounds presumptuous, but it's if all the pieces suddenly fell into place. I can see what was going on before, but it scares me. It's as if the game is over."

"The game is over, the game you where playing before, now a new one is starting, one day you might have the same feelings about the stage you are beginning now. You're doing what you should, from out here it's as clear as bell."

"One thing that has me a little worried and I wanted to ask you about it. You know I used to be very social. I liked to talk to people, meet them, I enjoyed that part of the practice quiet a bit. But the last few years, and especially recently, I've lost almost all interest in people, they seem to be all saying the same things, and they are incapable of listening. If you could spend a day in the practice, it is amazing, after calling for an appointment, coming in, waiting, paying, they hardly ever listen, honestly. They tell me much more about illness and medicine in general than I do to them. I know, I know, they know their body better than I do, and in that respect I think it is important that they tell me what they feel, but once we arrive to a conclusion, it's difficult for them to listen to what I have to tell them about the medicines, the treatments, the illness. I hear over and over, 'I know.' And they know nothing. I stopped getting angry and just became the run of the mill doctor who writes prescriptions ands get them out the office. It's sad, maybe it's me. But I have this feeling that they've been made into brilliant receptacles of ignorance. Somehow, I think it is through the media, they have come to the idea that they know allot, that they really do have an extensive knowledge of the world when they really know nothing, and it's not just the lower classes, all of them, it's very difficult for any of them to listen, ask questions, learn. I haven't talked about this with anyone because I am afraid that they might think I'm either a terrible elitist or paranoid. I'm not, am I?"

"No, no. Not at all. I know exactly what you mean. I have felt it for a long time, I have just never really put my finger on it like you did. I see it with the crisis, all the rumors that are going on, people in the streets protesting for peace, against war. But nobody really wants to talk about the truth. I think it is great to talk about peace, but first we have to confront the problem of the environment. If we don't, all the peace in the world isn't going to get us anywhere. I decided not to have children because I really thought it was unsafe to bring a child into the world. But does anyone really talk about the crisis for what it is? No, on one side they want peace at any price, the other wants to save their industries at any price, and I don't think anyone is really facing the problems that exist. I used to think there was some kind of conspiracy; I said to myself, it has to be. Somebody has to be playing them. But now I am not sure, Denis, the banker, doesn't want to face it. 'No, no, must reorganize, cut emissions.' But talk to him about a fundamental reorganization of things, to make the world viable and sustainable, and he looks at me like I was a monkey speaking Swedish. And he was an investment banker, rubbed shoulders with important decision makers. I really think that we've all stopped thinking, a collective mute on the brain."

"To tell the truth, I have even stopped socializing, I would rather stay at home and read, if it weren't for Carolina I wouldn't have a social life. I do it for her, but it takes an effort."

"You'll be ok, just get up there and start working. I can't wait to see what you do."

CHAPTER 8

Alex sat back in his chair on the terrace, enjoying a very large beer and carefully observing the friends of Matilde that he was meeting for the first time except for Sophy whom he knew from work. Sophy's hair and dress had the same immigrant style that Matilde's did, but she had murky green eyes and a lighter complexion. They could have been sisters, Sophy being the very pretty one. Her large breasts filling out the shirt of the Alliance colors with a peace sign. She smiled mischievously at Alex. "I love the cologne your wearing, I told you he had good taste." Alex got the unsettling impression that they had gone through this routine many times.

"Alex, Matilde told me you didn't get the MMM the other day. Do you want me to put you on the data base?" Asked Bibi.

"Sure. Who organized the gathering on Monday?"

"The Source."

"Who are they?" Shrug of the shoulders and a few looks.

"A peace organization." The tone changed and Alex stopped asking even though he would have liked to continue. Bibi was from the Federation countries, her accent placed her to an area very close to were Alex was brought up, but he decided against asking. They were sometimes the worst ones, he thought, the converts. Her short blonde hair and icy blue eyes couldn't hide behind the Alliance outfit. Matilde kept a diplomatic silence and Alex retreated back into his beer, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of being the representative of the oppressor trying to make good with the natives.

"Tomorrow night I'm having a birthday party, it will be a lot of fun." Purred Sophy. Matilde smiled. "You'll enjoy it."

"And Saturday Bibi's having us over for dinner." Added Matilde. "But tonight he's all mine." Her smile comforting him from the many stares.

"I've quite a schedule. I feel important." They all smiled, looking at him as women do, with the initial warmth to begin the study.

Alex felt transported as he walked through the old streets of the city center, full of immigrant stores, restored cafes, galleries and restaurants. Matilde held his hand as they maneuvered through the traffic on the small streets. He had never seen her so happy, she held his hand and suddenly kissed him on the cheek. "I made plans, actually I planned the whole weekend for us, you don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all." On the contrary, he thought. I don't think I have ever felt so good. Suddenly immersed in a new, exotic world. Beautiful, older, experienced women had accepted him and made him feel important. So different from the others, he thought. So much more exciting. He began to feel nervous; it was too good.

"We are going to see a movie, in the restored theatre that they have converted into a filmotech, "La Note" de Antonioni, then we can have dinner a restaurant that a friend of mine has, and than a few drinks in a bar were another friend plays the sax. You will get a guided tour of the best of the neighborhood."

*

The owner of the restaurant was from Matilde's country, terrifying eyes and a wave a salt and peeper hair; he spoke with her in their language. The first time he had heard her speak it; it scared him, making her seem older. The restaurateur let out a big smile and held her shoulder while he spoke to Alex. "She is a good girl, take care of her. Can I get you a good bottle of wine? Allow me to choose."

"Sure, go ahead. Can you bring me a beer first, though. Matilde, you order for me, a good variety. I don't have any problems with foods." The waiter returned with a small glass of beer and Alex lit his first cigarette since leaving the cinema. Taking a deep drag than a long drink of the tangy beer.

"How did you like the movie?" Her grin revealed her pleasure, the big teeth strong behind the dark red painted lips.

"I loved it. Beautiful. I love Monica Vitti."

"Ohh, but Jean Moreau is fantastic, she's much more interesting."

"Well, more interesting, or more neurotic. She seems like at any moment she's going to jump in front of a train. I would love to live like that, beautiful people, money, pleasure. You can be my Monica Vitti if you want, or Jean Moreau. I'll let you be either one." The wine was served.

"The party reminded me of the people that I work with, they are exactly the same. I even went to a party once were they did the same thing with the horse." Her eyes glanced up at a folk painting on the wall behind them.

"Like that guy the other day, he sort of seemed like that type." He asked with an unsure tone.

"Sort of, he is kind of that way, but not completely. He is like the one who takes Jeane Moreua in his car, his is that kind." A chill ran up Alex's back. He knew she must be attracted to him, but he wasn't sure if anything had come of it. "He has a two-seater convertible sports car, very nice, he bought it because he said he was depressed and needed something to perk him up. They have so much money that it really doesn't even make a dent in their finances. Another time he bought a country house after seeing it once, on a whim, he said it was time to get closer to nature, a beautifully restored house, originally built three centuries ago, with a huge stone fireplace, it was his hobby for a few months." Alex was now sure, he wanted to ask her and get it over with, but he saw his face without seeing it, knowing how poorly it would come out he decided to light another cigarette and drink some wine. Mercifully the dishes began to appear on the table, two or three at a time. Strong scents and bright colors. Alex lost himself in the parade of strange names and flavors, adding her apparent past to the mix, another exotic dish.

"Does your mother make these kinds of food?" He asked tenderly, not completely sure if it was appropriate.

"No, they are from the interior of the country, we are from the coast, the food is much different. I actually like this more." Alex imagined her house. Was is modern or traditional? How would they dress? Would they accept him he wondered. "Maybe we can go down some weekend, but you'll have to sleep with my brothers."

"I'd love too, I really would." She knew taking him would mean she couldn't take Denis ever. Once they met Alex there would be no going back. Who would mother like more she thought, probably Denis, more confident, more of a spark, but Alex was sweet, more sincere, she might like that too. But Denis would have them all eating out of his hand. "We could go to the beach. I've heard they're nice."

"Really nice, I was there last weekend, we have really nice beaches, not too many people if you know which ones to go to." She wondered how much the resort they stayed at cost, then she wondered how much Alex made. She had never thought about it, she really didn't understand too well what he did. It had something to do with what Sophy did, internet, probably paid more or less what she made, maybe a little less considering her commissions. They could go to a place that was less expensive, more rustic, better not to mix things up too much.

"I have been doing well lately, got promoted a few months ago, and I have had a great few weeks. We could go to a nice place on the beach for a few days if you want. I don't know if you can get a couple days off, I can get one or two." He realized he was comparing himself to someone in another league, self-conscious as he spoke. She smiled and agreed, nervous that something had given away her thoughts.

A bizarre tasting desert and a drink. The owner bought a round of drinks and sat down at the table with them, they were the last table, the waiters finishing up, all immigrants. The owner offered a toast. "To peace, just for peace." The glasses raised. "My home town was bombed last week, 28 dead. The Federation denies it, they say it was an internal issue, but the people saw the planes. I know a lot of the people who were killed or injured. Why do they deny it?" He asked with a pained face.

"I don't know, we saw the planes the other night. I don't know why they want to cover it up, I really don't. So many rumors too, I almost think they are making up the rumors to cover the truth." Matilde looked at him blankly.

"What do they want from us, to kill us off? What have we done?"

Alex shrugged. Matilde finally spoke. "Some people at home told me they thought it was to do with the treaties for fossil fuels, they are bombing them to get them to agree and show them they can make them comply, at least that was what I heard. Because the rest of it is just a bit fantastic, UFO's and the like."

"But what is going on with the suicides? We just sold a campaign to a group who was obviously interested in promoting it, but I don't know who they are."

"They're just those end of the world sects, but wait, you'll see, we can't fight the planes but we can send soldiers here, they're already here I am sure. Remember the terrorist attacks? They'll return I'm afraid, but worse this time." His eyes were strong but Alex challenged him with a stare. "Hey, but wait, I am not for that kind of thing, but if they keep bombing, what do you expect. Bring the bottle over, come on, drink up, no hard feelings." Alex thought of his mother and aunt and felt embarrassed, how carried away they got. But maybe they weren't so wrong.

"What would you do if things started getting very bad, would you go home?" Alex asked the owner, taking a quick glance at Matilde.

"I'm going to stay. I'm citizen now of the Federation, I have dual citizenship, but I think it is important that we, the immigrants from the Alliance countries, exert pressure on the Federation for a just peace. Our countries just want to escape the misery that so many of their inhabitants live in. I know the environment is in danger, we realize that, but we just need an effort on the Federation's part to help them, not just think of their pristine forests and beautiful lakes."

"I see what you mean, but if it comes to all out war, do you think the cities will be safe? Especially this one, being the capital. My mother is terrified, a lot of people are very nervous." He again looked a Matilde, but she maintained her expressionless glance.

"I'll stay. This is where I have my life, my friends, my business." She maintained the silence. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

*

They sat on stools in the crowded bar, he rolled a joint while she bounced to the music. She waved her head to signal she was going to dance, skipping across the floor, swinging to the sax, staying right below the stage moving with the swing of the instrument, the saxophonist smiling, and finally reaching down to lift her up on the stage. He had three girls on the stage, playing for each one, Matilde clapping her hands and moving while he played for the others, then moving wildly once he reached her, turning her rear to the audience and shaking it rapidly, three immigrant girls and the handsome Federation sax player who was also musician for a late night television program. Once the set ended he and Matilde came over to Alex where he was introduced to the musician, passing him the joint. He smoked with one hand, the other on Matilde's neck. Without being aware of any communication, Alex watched three drinks arrive.

"Matilde tells me you have a place in Zephyr Hills." The sweat was strong on his face, rolling down across his freckled neck as one of the other dancers approached.

"Who's this, Matilde's new man? We're Mick's girls before anything." Matilde hugged him and smiled, the other girl kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm thinking of buying a place out there, how do you like it?" Alex looked at Matilde, not sure what she thought of it.

"I like it, nice views, everything is new, clean. If you want to come over some time I can show you the place."

"Great, I'd like to check it out, the studio is one stop away and it would be convenient for me."

"Whenever you want." Mick strolled away arm in arm with the other dancer. Matilde approached him and planted a big kiss on his lips.

"You know what; I think I am falling in love with you." Alex lowered himself down from the chair and embraced her strongly, scared into silence; he tried to tell her what he felt through his hands.

*

She motioned to him to turn the music down, while she spread pate on the two small baguettes. Alex sipped his whiskey straight, breathing deeply to enjoy the smell of methane gas in the old apartment and savoring the creaking of the solid wood floors. Tribal rugs draped the walls, his eyes skimmed the writers and musicians on the shelves. A breath lifted through the hall, then a wale of passion.

"Here." She handed him the sandwich. "I guess they aren't asleep. Turn up the music a bit." They sat at a small kitchen table, her feet up on the table. "Roll another joint, I am not tired yet." Her tone was becoming groggy, aggressive. "I can't fuck without smoking, I mean, I can, but it just seems weird. I feel everything so much more if I have smoked."

Alex twitched, putting the glass to his mouth quickly. "Yeah, it does make things seem different, especially food."

"My last boyfriend was this really serous guy, he'd go into the bathroom and wash himself before we fucked, before and after, a real clean guy, a really clean guy. He didn't like me to smoke; he said it gave me bad breath."

"Who was that, the banker the other day?"

"No, after him, but it doesn't matter." Alex felt it hard, realizing he should have left it alone. He finished rolling the joint in silence, handing it to hear to light. He filled his glass, trying to fill the space and the silence, but no words came that weren't vulgar, the marijuana adding to the general paranoia. All the sexual energy escaped into the spirits of her ex-boyfriends and Alex suddenly wished he was home playing Fabian's Journey. Was he just to immature, he thought, or was she being crass. Maybe it was the older woman, or maybe it was the Alliance thing. The silence drove on. Finally he refilled his glass and lit a cigarette, finding a CD to shift his thoughts.

"What you think about what the guy in the restaurant said, I mean, do you think things will get that bad." He asked, looking to shift his mind.

"They already are, my brothers back home are beginning to talk wildly, I tell them, boys, your sister lives there." Her expressions were excessive; she appeared older, uglier, and stranger. "Let's try and get along. But with the bombings I think things are going to get out of control." She wondered what he was thinking; it reminded her of her father, of his silent expression of disdain for her and her life. She could tell he was judging her.

"What are you going to do if things get out of hand? I mean, you can come with me, we have a place in the country."

"No, I think I better stay here, you never know. Lets get to bed, I am dead." He felt cut off and as out of her world as he felt in it at the beginning of the night. Once in bed she gave him a kiss on the cheek then rolled over asleep. He had brought his drink, cigarettes and ashtray and rested them on the night-table. The two doors to the small balcony were open, across the street a man in a white tee-shirt and underwear was watching television. Alex could only see the flashing lights and hear the faint sound of canned laughter mixed with the occasional car and loud chatter of late night strollers. He moved up on the pillow, checking to see how asleep she was. He decided to try a cigarette, anxious at the sound of the lighter, than the jingling of the ice. Ok, she was out.

For the first time in the whole evening he felt comfortable, watching the man watch television, wondering if he could see into the bedroom and deciding he couldn't, enjoying even more the anonymity. He thought about how much more he could drink, and the restriction on sound and space made it seem limitless. Why bother? The way things are. But even so, something seemed to be missing. Maybe it was her; she was not what he thought she was. The first night they met, she told him they were two lost souls, but now it seems more like one lost soul. That old loneliness was coming back, the only way to appease it was to be alone like he was. A loud Vespa sped by, she rolled over. The final gulp reached high into his head, the third to last drag on the cigarette became the last one, he rolled over as his head spun, wanting to think but not able to.

*

What had seemed like many a friendly face to begin with became more and more bizarre. Alex was now finishing his second round of small talk with the friends of Matilde that he had met the night before but the steam was running out. He decided to approach Matilde for a third time while she chatted with a couple. She smiled, they smiled, already having been introduced. They began speaking again in their language. He looked for Bibi, she didn't even smile. Maybe this was how they let you know the fling was over. Back to the kitchen, small talk with an Alliance banker. Suddenly, lights out, traditional Alliance music, Sophy and Matilde dancing through the room, shaking bracelets and barefoot. This was not for him. The two performers had returned dressed to the party to waves of applause and laughter, Alex gently picked up his knapsack and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Bibi turned around at the last minute.

"Just going to get another bottle of my whiskey, all out, easier to put it in the knapsack, you know. I will be back up in a minute."

"Do you have keys? I mean they might not hear you with the music."

"I'll be ok." He smiled and snuck out the door. He walked slowly down the old stairs, hoping she would come for him, but also relieved to be out of the environment. Once on the street he looked for the first bar he could find, he felt self-conscious. Drinking, figuring out how to get back home, a taxi would be expensive, but money wasn't a problem. He would get a taxi. So this is how it ended. He looked at the phone, about to shut it off. No. Wait. Another drink. The bar was too bright, the music a strange mix of sentimental pop songs for a middle-age crowd. He observed a mixed couple. He didn't want that. He didn't want to have to pay attention, listen to conversations he didn't understand. Be looked at as the bad guy. He realized how much he had put into this one, she could hurt him he thought, and she probably would. A cute girl smiled at him, the phone rang.

"Where are you?"

"Just came down to buy a bottle of whiskey, I will be up in a second."

"Ok, we are waiting for you." He found an all night store and bought the whiskey and cigarettes. From despair to hope again. Back in the apartment things had calmed down, the premature escape had administered its effect. She sat on his lap on the big armchair, Sophy and Victor, her friend from the night before, on the couch. Bibi on the floor resting against an exotic looking Alliance boy. Alex refilled his glass from the bottle he left below the chair.

"Alex, that whiskey you drink, they're not good people. They support this government, one of the most important shareholders is a brother of the Defense Minister."

"Well, I guess I'm really helping the old cause, especially lately." No laughs. He felt the wave of judgment roll over him.

"I guess I'll have to give up my job, because everyone I work for or with is for this government." Alex appreciated Matilde's diversion.

"Hey, man, I think it's serious. I mean that whiskey is a symbol of the regime, Matilde needs the job, someone's going to get the job, but drinking that whiskey is openly supporting the regime, you gotta know what you are doing." Added Bibi's friend. Alex stared at him, his dark blue eyes focused and the lids opened.

"Hey! Come on guys." Sophy jumped in, the tension grew. Her boyfriend shook his head.

"Come on Alex, it's really easy to change brands, they're all the same. He's right. We have to find peace, and that whiskey is a symbol of war, it is practically a poster for the war effort." Pleaded Bibi.

"My father and uncle were veterans of the Southern Conflict, in my house all the men drink this whiskey. I don't need lessons from two punks on how to drink." He brought his stare across the room back to Bibi's boyfriend. A loud chorus of "Come on" and "Relax" filled the room. Alex could feel the rage rising in him. How he didn't want this to happen, he knew that this would be the end, but it was unstoppable. His breathing became short and his nostrils widened. The "Heys" now became almost inaudible to him. Bibi's boyfriend stared at him. "What the fuck are you staring at?" As he got up, Matilde tried to swing him down, but he broke her grip. His height and strength suddenly became imposing. The boyfriend got up but slower, Victor rose, full of magnanimous gestures not well taken by Alex.

"Come on Alex, we can have a mature disagreement without getting violent." The tone and gesture were too much for a drunken and enraged Alex. Fortunately, Alex just stared, and the tension finally withdrew. Bibi and her boyfriend made their exit and the two couples went to bed. Before falling unconscious Alex looked at her.

"You shouldn't have done that, you shouldn't have done that. This could have been something special. You threw it away." She just looked at him as he rolled over

Matilde sat up and smoked a cigarette, unable to sleep from the tension and his drunken snoring. Denis would never have put on such a ridiculous and aggressive display, he was too young for her, she thought. But she liked him. He was attractive, and fresh. Something pure and honest about him that she was drawn to. He was handsome, sexy, sensual. She loved his apartment. She asked herself why she avoided him during the party, she knew that was really why he got angry. Why had she done it? Was she afraid of getting too involved, or did she want to keep her image up among her friends. They didn't like him, and after tonight even less. They were everything to her. Without them she would be truly alone. What was it about him, that touch of arrogance, of hidden disdain. They liked Denis, but he was different. She turned to him as he snored and began to speak aloud.

"Your right. I was mean to you. I'm sorry. But I didn't even realize it. Bibi told me twice I was ignoring you. I don't know why I did it. You do really mean a lot to me. But you have to control your temper." He kept snoring, no response at all. She continued to smoke and to think. "You know, I'm not as strong as I look, I have had a tough time of it lately and when I met you I felt like things were going to turn around, and they have. You and I could make a nice couple, maybe buy a place. You make me feel very good. I don't think I have ever had such a good lover. Let's try and make a go of it. Maybe if we can make things work out, the Alliance girl and Fed boy, maybe everything will work out." She kissed him on the cheek and rolled over.

He began to hear the sounds of the street, and realized she was not in the bed. The memories came back slowly. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to face her or the day. It would be one of those mornings where he felt enemies all around. Better to leave, he thought, then have to spend the day apologizing and acting like a lackey. The phone rang.

"Hi. No, yeah, great, no. He's is still asleep. I'm really sorry. Is he really upset? Oh good, I think your right. I am really sorry, we can do it another weekend. Ok. Bye." One thing out of the way. The hangover cigarette. One of hers, a lite. It gave him great relief. She came in, showered, with makeup on. Her tone was sweet.

"Want me to bring you in a coffee?."

"Thanks." He reached over and turned on the radio, a classical station, baroque music, he didn't know who. The fear and guilt were building, another cigarette. He had to say something or the tension would be too strong. When? Get it over with. The music stopped, a long silence, then a beeping sound, sounded like new age Morris Code, must be shortwavers. He fell into it.

"What's that noise?"

"The radio, the classical station, must be something wrong. Hey, listen, sorry about getting angry last night. I had too much to drink and I guess I was a little annoyed. Sorry, I know they are your friends and all and they didn't really provoke it." She watched on, with her neutral face. "I'll give her a call now, apologize."

"Don't worry, I just talked to her, no need for that. She said it's all forgotten, but let's skip the dinner, we can spend some time together. But you need to control your temper."

"I know." A sweet pardon. "How about going around the old taverns, I haven't done that in years. My treat, we'll have a good time." She gave him a kiss, then another. All the pent up tension was let loose, again and again. By dusk they both lay nude, almost perpendicular, their legs crossing, smoking in the precious last light of day. Again the radio lost its signal, the strange Morris Code again hypnotizing with its chant.

He looked across the bed and she was staring at him, and kept staring. They looked at each other comfortably, with the same ease as the sheet that covered them. They investigated the colors and shades of each other's eyes. She ran her finger across his face, around his chin, up to his eyes. "I would love to have a child with your eyes, they're beautiful. You're very handsome, especially when you get angry. Not that I want to see you angry, but you're handsome. Do you look like your mother or your father?"

"My mother I think. And you?"

"My father, I have his face, these enormous teeth, all from him. Get in the shower, I'm hungry."

*

The wobbly wooden tables were attended by fashionably dressed girls. The tavern had become postmodern. A second bottle of national wine was put on the table. She shook her head at him while he poured. "I am really glad I met you. So many relationships, so many times I was close to getting married, and something always went wrong. Maybe this time things will be better, but let's just enjoy it while it lasts." She was beginning to pick up on the tendencies, he liked drinking to much to avoid it, but the consequences with her were going to be difficult. "You know what?" A plate of cheese and ham was put on the table, local bread. "Your are the most handsome man I have ever been with. And the best lover." Her voice deep with drink. She reached over and touched his arm. "And I love you, I'm really in love with you." Her smile became enormous, he took off her cap and put it back on her, then reached over to kiss her.

"I have never been happier." He shivered as he said it, knowing it could only bring the contrary. They smiled like children. A heavy rain began. He leaned against the wall and watched her, they looked at each other as they had in bed, smiling, transmitting an emotion that was better savored in silence.

CHAPTER 9

Monica leaned back on the large L shaped sofa facing the flames in the fireplace that warmed the large room from the chill of the rainy weekend. Yolanda approached with two drinks and a smile. "Here you are darling, this will warm us up." They both lit cigarettes and sat quietly observing the dancing tongues of fire. The roof sloped down from over six meters from the front door to the two meter high window that looked out onto the lake. Jan and Denis made trips into one of the back rooms carrying boxes, bags, suit bags, crates of papers, books and bottles. "They're strong boys, they can handle it. Why don't you bring some of your painting things out here, you could set up a studio in the basement." Yolanda's expression was tender and plying.

"We'll see. I'm really comfortable with the studio I have, it is our family's house, you saw it. It's such a nice setting, right inside the city. I'd hate to leave it."

"Just in case, honey, you never know. I can tell you that Denis really cares about you, and he wants you to be here if anything happens. We have people here, living in the guest homes, professional soldiers, they will protect us. We have the helicopter, water, food, this will be a very good place to ride out the storm." A rural man helped Denis and Jan carry more boxes and suitcases into the back room.

"That is the last of them, Johan's going to make a barbecue for us tonight." Johan tipped is cap and walked out the door at the back of the house. Denis and Jan walked to the sofa, the strain apparent on their red faces. They drank beer out of large frozen mugs. "Let's see if you girls have more luck getting information out of him about the Virgin in the village than we did." Monica sat up and looked excitedly at Denis.

"Our artist has found a theme." Joked Jan.

"Tell me though, what is it?" She asked with a smile. Denis took a long swig of his beer, comically exaggerating the pause.

"The women in the village say that the Virgin has been appearing every Friday afternoon. Most of the village is there now praying the novena. Apparently at dusk she appears out of a cloud, and speaks. When I asked him why he wasn't there, he just shrugged. Then I asked him if he didn't believe in that sort of thing and he said yes he did, and made a gesture like he didn't want to talk about it." Across the room and through the window he could be seen fanning the fire in the barbecue. "People nowadays will believe anything, any rumor at all."

"But I think these rural people are capable of seeing the Virgin. You've seen them at Easter. They really get worked up. There was as story yesterday about the Vatican sending someone to investigate, apparently he's there now. This Pope is very jittery, they say he has had a bitter crisis, and is trying to grasp on to something. You can see it in his face." Added Jan very journalistically.

"Yes, I love his eyes, he is really handsome." Added Monica. "How long do you think your group will continue working if anything happened, I mean editing a daily paper and the news and radio and TV."

"I think to the end, especially radio and TV. The paper could go completely online; the first thing to go will be paper edition. We have a bunker, secret place, I don't know where it is, and from there they will keep broadcasting. The rumors have it that they are going to begin the broadcasts there this week. We're going to begin sending in stories from where we are, with one editor in the bunker compiling and formatting the site and the broadcasts. There were volunteers, some curious stories. Two broadcasters, both married, decided to stay, apparently they had been having an affair and they wanted to end up together."

"But are things really that bad, I mean, in the city, things are almost normal, you can hardly tell, not even any terrorist attacks. Could it be that maybe this is all a build up? A farce, and someone is taking advantage of it all?" The three old friends all looked in different directions before bringing their eyes upon Monica once again. Yolanda shook her head slowly, timidly. "You mean that it's for sure. You really know?" Continued Monica. Jan raised his eyebrows and shoulders.

"Know? We have a pretty good idea. The higher up you go the clearer it seems to people. The village people see the Virgin, the Ministers are sending their families to remote areas, preparing shelters." Monica reached to the large rustic coffee table and lit another cigarette. She felt neither safe nor accompanied. The three continued to look at her for a moment before continuing their conversation.

"Monica." Jan almost pleaded. "If they're making the investment to hold out in a bunker with no advertising and keep informing, it's because they are convinced that this thing will pass, that eventually things will get back to normal, and they will be in a very advantageous position for having held out through the crisis. What we have to worry about are the next few months."

She looked at him blankly, not knowing what he was saying. She wanted to leave, to be alone at in her home, or with her brother, but not here. She remembered the man with whom she had lived in her early thirties. They had been happy, simple, but she wanted something more. She couldn't stay with just him and he finally left. Now she was alone. She drove him off and now she was paying the price. She thought to herself that it was better not to look at them, they would see it. They could save her, she thought, but death was possibly a better option. What would they do here? Count their money together, laugh at the locals. They would eventually fight and kill each other. They suddenly seemed evil, almost demonic and she wanted to run and see the Virgin and ask her for help. She began to feel a panic. She thought, get up slowly, don't let them notice.

"I'm going to bring a beer out to him, see if I can get some information." She put on a broad smile to carry her to the kitchen.

*

Yolanda shook her head, with her eyes firmly focused on Denis. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. A cold chill passed through him. I'm alone he thought. I'm really alone. Rapidly his mind looked for alternatives; it was his way, his training. Matilde, but she didn't fill the void. Better alone he thought. Monica filled it, she intrigued him. She didn't need him or excessively desire him, and that is what he needed. He was alone. He might die alone, at another time that might have been preferable, but not now. He wanted somebody and she was slipping out of his hands. He lit another cigarette and looked down. The ashtray was almost full, six months ago they had all been ex-smokers. The intense anxiety was something he had completely forgotten; even his body had forgotten it. When had he felt like this, he had felt like this but when? He searched within the silence, his eyes in the flames. When? The late night, the voices in the hall, the lights on. The people in robes, the people dressed. His sisters name. "I'm very sorry." He quickly removed it, before it took him over.

"See what you can do. I think little by little, we can convince her."

Jan looked away at Monica through the glass. Her body squared to Johan, her hands bouncing beyond her shoulders, her grin widening while Johan gestured with emotion. He turned into Denis's gaze. "She'll stay, we'll convince her. Now that we have a moment, what do you think we should do with what's left in the portfolio? Should we keep it there for a possible future or convert it all to gold and diamonds."

"Yes, Denis, I wanted to ask you about that. The petroleum stocks we have are still worth quiet a bit, Jan and I were discussing what to do. We could maybe convert a third of it to resources here, say more diesel fuel, food etc., another third in gold and leave the rest."

Denis was glad to be back on firm ground. "I think it's a good idea, but we have got to move urgently, it is harder and harder to liquidate, and gold keeps rising."

"What about diamonds?" Jan with an excessively inquisitive tone, as if the fear escaped thorough is vocal chords.

"I really prefer gold, it has a much more stable price. I think it is good we have diamonds, but just enough to take with us in case we have to move quickly, the gold is heavy. But I don't think they will find the safe." He laughed. Jan grinned.

"I hope not." Added Yolanda. "How far do you think we can trust the soldiers?"

"Totally, they will be here with their families, their house is as stocked as this one. I think with their families here, there will be no problem, they can defend the area by ground and air, eight of them, all veterans, all but two here with wives and children. We can depend on them because they know that if they get through there'll be a big payoff. I've even offered to give them title to the land. Don't worry. We will be safe here. And we always have the option of going north to my parents farm if necessary, we have direct communication with them."

Jan listened as if he were daydreaming at a news conference. When they began to discuss the plan it seemed like one of those adolescent projects that everyone knew would never come to fruition but were fun to talk about. She really organized it, the both of them did. I would have stayed on in the capital, done the valiant journalist; it is more me he thought. This is all a bit far fetched. He looked at Monica again. She spoke with her hands. She was still alive, living, not escaping death. I would like to sleep with her, he thought. Maybe if she stayed, it would keep things interesting. I could never, it could get ugly, but the thought of it would be stimulating. I hope she stays.

*

"Does she really see her, I mean, it's not a trance from prayer?" Monica's eyes were wide open, her expression full of enthusiasm. The pink cotton shirt fluttered with her movements, Johan entranced by the flesh of her kneecap within the torn jeans.

"Yes, yes, I tell you she does. I went twice. I would've gone today except for Mr. Denis asking me to help him, but I'm not a religious man. I believe because I believe, most people here still believe, get married in the church, baptize their children. I know in the city that's not fashionable, but out here people still do those things. I tried to pray but I'm not a praying type of person. But my wife, she has always been very devoted. I watched her last Friday. She looked up at something, they all did, but I didn't see anything. She told me to continue praying and I'd see her. She says she's beautiful and that she makes you feel warm and loved. Maybe next week."

"If I'm here, would you mind if I went with you. I'd love to go."

"Yes of course." Johan stood straight and nodded his head with authority. "It's a very nice place, the river there is wide, and the people sit up on the hill that looks down at the river. There are quite a few cows on the other side, you'll like it. I'll bring you to where my wife is, where the action is." He smiled, and lifted his cap and tucked it back on. "Well, I think you have a good fire here." Denis came through the kitchen door with a large wood block, sausages and steaks.

"Thanks Johan, we can take it from here. Can you come by tomorrow to take a look at the water pump in the other house, and too see about the bunks?"

"I'll be out after breakfast, if that's ok."

"Great, see you tomorrow."

The moon reflected perfectly off the still lake. They looked at each other in the silence, their eyes still adjusting to the darkness. The only light coming from the flames, burning wood and sparks from the falling grease. Monica caught a glimpse of Yolanda's eyes looking directly at her. Who were they she thought? Weren't they really the cause of all this? Weren't they the ones who believed in war, in manipulation and in the lies that have gotten us where we are? And these ridiculous ideas about soldiers and helicopters. It was surreal.

Jan leaned his head back, looking straight up in the sky. Yolanda looked straight out into the lake. "There, you can see them in the reflection on the lake too." Monica looked anxiously. The lake sparkled with stars around the quarter moon. The two large comets faced each other, facing up, as if they were to create an upside down V. "The second one was a total surprise, good thing it wasn't on course with us, was hidden by the sun."

"There, there, look." Monica said excitedly. "See the small moving lights, what are they?" The small lights moved together in a formation, seemingly too small to be planes.

"They say they are they new surveillance planes. Some claim to have seen them dog-fighting, unexplainable. We have the whole show tonight, what a sky." All their heads were looking up except for Denis who continued to grill the meat, the lake reflecting flawlessly the sky. Denis served the meat and sausages, Jan brought out wine and bread. Monica continued to look up, then down. Confused as to which was more real, forgetting the source, becoming confused as to what was reflected while the lights danced off the dark windows. She was now completely lost in the light. Was what they saw in the sky a reflection of some other light? She wished it was, and that the sky would return to being the peaceful source of the sublime that it had once been, and stop producing ominous phenomena.

The next morning they were all in the same positions they had been the night before. The conversation that had become drunkenly sentimental was consciously absent. All the dark colors were removed from the painting that now seemed bleached. The dark glasses replacing the eyes, the reflections of the trees and hills replacing the stars and comets. The sounds of Johan hammering echoed in the distance. One began to smoke, and the others followed. The recently ex-smokers now enjoyed their coffee with cigarettes, guiltless. The shiny brisk morning, the cool breeze off the lake. The world seemed much safer than the night that Monica was still having difficulty distinguishing from her dreams. A loud dirt bike could be heard approaching the house, Denis looked up as the motor was cut off. A moment of silence, more hammering. A large, muscular man wearing jeans and boots entered the lawn in back of the house, removing his glasses as he approached the table. Denis sat straight and attentive, the man instilling fear in all of them. How different he was, thought Monica, compared to Johan. As he neared Denis stood and turned on an electric smile.

"Carl, how are you? Good to see you?" He reached out his hand.

"Hi Denis. I just got into town about an hour ago, we brought a couple of dirt bikes. I guess you haven't heard the news." He spoke confidently, without fear, a note of pleasure in the anticipation. Jan felt a cold wave move down his neck, Monica lapsed back into confusion between the dreams and consciousness. "The water supply, it has been poisoned in the capital, for the moment just there. They're officially talking about a death toll around ten thousand. But it will rise. We decided it was time to come out. We'd been preparing, and this was the final straw. I know it's a little early, but we can make due."

"Not at all Carl. I'm glad your ok. I prefer that you're here."

"Some bad news, Jim, the single guy, he got it, the rest of us are ok. Apparently he had didn't turn on the TV before waking up and took a long drink of tap water. You can imagine the stories. It's a mess."

"I can't get through, all busy." Yolanda watched him speak. Monica ran her hand down her face, pulling at the bottom of her eyes. He would be ok, she thought. He is a doctor, they're smart. Don't let anything happen to Carolina, not her. Please, for his sake. Yolanda began to tap her finger.

"Don't worry; we have a direct line to your house. I'll get her for you." Denis moved into the house while Carl stared at the three faces that avoided him. Jan finally spoke, his voice shaky. Yolanda staring at the door.

"When did it happen?"

"They must have begun yesterday morning, apparently the toxin takes about six hours to work, the rumors began yesterday afternoon, and finally got confirmed last night. If you want to try with this phone, it uses a military frequency, I'm still using it."

"Go talk to her." Spoke Denis confidently to Yolanda, who rapidly moved through the door. He could see her expression become relieved.

"Their daughter, she's fine." Denis added to Carl. Monica used Carl's phone, which worked. Everyone ok. Too many bodies. Lots of problems. He'll start getting ready to leave once his work is finished with the survivors.

Carl listened and nodded his head as she spoke. Beginning to speak once she hung up. "They'll begin the disaster protocol, which is mass incineration. One grave for all. They encourage people to hold on to some piece of jewelry to remember by, and on big slab with a lot of names on it. Apparently they can burn over five hundred bodies an hour, no questions asked. Write down the name and off you go. The funeral parlors won't be very happy."

CHAPTER 10

The black Persian kitten looked up out of its white mask nervously at Alex, who jumped at the kitten, sending it running down the a hall and skidding under a dresser. Alex poked him out with a broom and the chase began again. The kitten finally collapsed into a deep sleep on a pair of jeans left on the floor beside the bed. Alex, examining its chest, worried his expensive new guest had died of fright, finally putting his face up against the pudgy nose to feel the breath.

Using up the end of the drastically reduced limit on one of his credit cards, he received the delivery from the local grocery store. Alex handed the face he remembered a handsome tip, which was received with a smile, and raised eyebrows. "Sorry, this will be the last day we deliver."

"But how long will you stay open?"

"We don't know, at least till the end of the month. Take care. Thanks." He raised the bill on his cap slightly.

"Bye." Alex began unpacking the assortment of gourmet preserves, cheeses, pastas, cat foods and litter, and eight bottles of wine, four of gin, five of whiskey, and a large assortment of mixers and designer beers.

The phone rang again and soon Wicki knocked on the open door. "Doctor here for a house-call. You are sick." Observed Wicki as he walked around the multitude of bottles on the counter in search of Alex. "Where are you?"

"Here, how are things? Sorry, I would offer you something, but I'm all out." Wicki shook his head. "Beer or booze."

"A gin tonic would be fine." Alex prepared in silence the drinks while Wicki removed from his knapsack and assortment of bags filled with powder, plants and pills. "I wouldn't feel right about giving you all this if things weren't the way they were, we had a terrible scare, but in the end me and mine got out of the poisoning ok. And you?"

"Lucky, a few people from the office, but nobody I was really close to."

"Be careful with this stuff, the only good thing is that you won't have a chance to get hooked, cause I'm leaving, this is my last house call. I'll be in town maybe a week or so more, than heading home. I'll miss you, honestly, most of the people I deal to are pricks, but I like you, you are a good guy, no bullshit." He took a long sip on his drink, while Alex opened a pack of cigarettes and handed him one.

"My whole closet is full of cartons of cigarettes. Thanks, I'll miss you, maybe if things work out, you know, we will see each other again."

"Lets not shit each other, once I leave the Federation I don't think they will be real anxious to let us back in, even if things do calm down." Alex nodded.

"Well then, for us, that we make it." They both raised their glasses, Wicki looking down.

"Listen, I know we are all strapped for cash, how about 300 for the whole load, I'm giving you the last of the pills and coke."

"No, really, I'm ok, made out alright with work and stuff, here's the 500 we talked about on the phone, take it, I've got more coming." He slid the roll across the table.

"I appreciate it. So how long are you going to stay?"

"My bosses are taking off next week, they've given me some money to stay, I'll hang around till things get out of hand. I've got enough here to keep me going for a while, and if they get too hairy, I'll go stay with my mom in the provinces. But I kind of like the city this way, people are much nicer, and I haven't seen any strange violence. It is almost like a spell has fallen on everything. I just hope it lasts."

"So do I."

*

The light was dim on the table, Matilde sat facing the stars through the window, Alex next to her facing the stereo and TV. The half full bottle of wine facing the empty one, Matilde dipped her bread in the plate, soaking up the oil before putting it her mouth. Alex raised the large glass and swirled the red wine before bringing it to his lips. He now recognized these long silences as part of the liturgy of each reencounter. Dashiel slowly blinked his eyes from his royal posture atop the couch causing Alex to feel that the cat was someone other than the cat. What a time to buy a cat he thought. Dinner became drinks, and drinks became drugs.

"Lets stay in tonight, I'm already feeling pretty good, and I don't feel like dealing with people." Asked Matilde.

"Sure, many people leave the bank after the poisoning?"

"No, just a few brokers. I'm staying as long as I can. They're paying me daily in cash. A lot of work."

"You can come stay with me. I'd love to have you, if you want. I mean, if anything happens." She looked up at him, as if searching. "If things get really bad we can go stay with my mom, in the country. I already told her about you, and she said you are more than welcome. She's really easy to get along with."

"I don't know what to do, to stay, to go home with my family, I don't know. I was born here, I'm not comfortable there. I can't be myself. I love being in the country though." Alex walked to the stereo to change the music. "I loved going to the country, making love next to the fireplace." Alex remained focused on the CD, taking a quick glance at her eyes as he walked back. "We'll do that, we'll do that too sometime." The hot ball rose through is chest and up to his throat.

*

Several small groups of young people dressed in Fed/Alliance fashion stood on the sidewalk cafe, aperitif in hand. Alex had difficulty ingesting the first beers of the morning, Matilde drinking cokes. They would have been grateful for company, another couple to bounce the conversation off. The eyes moved nervously in an effort to avoid one another, Alex rushing to get the drinks down till he could start feeling good again. They ended up in an old cafe, both drinking beers by now, reading the paper. "The Pope is going to make an announcement tomorrow, some people say he is going to resign." Started Alex.

"I think with everything that is going on, it isn't very important." The gulf grew. "They say there's the possibility of a Federation/Alliance summit, that something could be announced soon."

"After the poisonings, I really don't know what could be said, if we start to negotiate after that what will we have next? I don't think it is a very good precedent." She looked up, her teeth big in the slightly open mouth. The expression empty, no answer. He imagined what her friends were saying. "Will there be any demonstrations for peace, I mean, that's what the other demonstrations were about, right, your friend the banker, Just peace. Are they going to organize any for the 8.250 dead from the water poisoning? Because I'd like to go, put me on the list." She continued to look, and he stared into her eyes, waiting for some reaction which she was denying him. "Maybe stop drinking Alliance beer for a week, no?" Still no reaction. "What do you think of my idea of not drinking Alliance beer?" She raised her shoulders. "That means you don't like it, I assume. Better to boycott the Pope, more constructive." He unwrapped a fresh pack of cigarettes and returned to the paper. He looked at her but the dark eyes where concentrating on the print.

I'm getting way to aggressive he thought. The rage was rising with the alcohol, as the drinks can sometimes recapture the ambience of the night before in an instant, he had suddenly returned to her comment at dinner. But what had left him numb the night before was now throbbing in his ears and head. Let it go, he thought. Let it go. If I don't I will lose control, and the second time will be the end. Maybe I'm getting carried away, maybe I'm being immature. What if I had said it, what if I had said, I love making love in the pool. How would it have gone over, no apology? We'll try that someday.

The anger rose and fell, between fear of losing her and a strong desire to inflict damage. She locked herself up tight in the silent shell, which only antagonized him more. Calming himself to try and find a conciliatory tone. "Would you like to get steak, there's a really good place near here, you'll like it. They know me, they'll treat us right."

"Sure." Something is wrong with him. This is the second time. It's not that big a deal. I'm 36, what did he think. I was a virgin. I like to screw beside the chimney. I shouldn't have said it, but I am not going to plead for mercy, for forgiveness for being too honest. He is too immature; I need to be with an older man. I can't stand being their mother or older sister.

"Alex, how are you? We've got your table all ready. Sit down." Within thirty seconds there was a bottle of sherry on the table. Two glasses.

"They know me, you like sherry?"

"Sure." At least she smiled. He tried to change tack, get out of a weird mood.

The anger always made him feel childish, silly, but there was no way to escape it once it had a hold of him. The meat was served tender already sliced on a meat board. They ate hungrily, and the hunger became thirst, and soon they were in at a cafe having a drink at dusk. The rage had left him, he was calm, peaceful, and the alcohol had almost disconnected him from his body. They had been holding hands, the affection between them growing, as it often did, after eating. They kissed. As the light left the square he lit another cigarette and felt protected by the night, a chance to clear the air.

"Why don't you tell me about the fireplace, I mean, fine, you said it, just tell me who and what so I don't have to always be imagining it, you know what I mean?" She continued to look away, head back.

"I don't know why you want to ask about these things, it is my life, my past. I don't have to tell who and what."

"Fine. I think that is great if you're not going to make comments about how you liked to do it and where. I ask with whom and I am transgressing the intimate barrier of your private life, fine."

She breathed deeply. "Ok, I shouldn't have said it." Her eyes looked up over his forehead and into the facade of the baroque cathedral. "Do you remember the banker I introduced you to the other day, he used to be a broker in private banking at the bank I'm at now. He left last year to go to another bank. I was an assistant for another broker, and we began dating. That's it. It's over. He called me to tell me that we were not going out anymore. That he was seeing a new person, a painter." Her eyes where nowhere near his, they continued to rise as if admiring the ornate sculptures of the facade.

"Had he been seeing her while he was still going out with you?"

"I remember him talking about a painter." She was excited; he had never seen her face so intense. Her eyes danced for a moment across his. "He talked too much about her. I suspected."

"Why did he leave you? I mean, did you guys get along?"

"I shouldn't being telling you all this. Order me another drink." Alex got hold of the waiter and they both waited in an awkward silence for the drinks to arrive. She took a long sip, and then lit another cigarette. "We were like two people who hated each other, and ourselves. Once." Her gaze lifted again. "He started telling Sophy how sexy she was, right in front of all of our friends. The only time in my life I ever felt jealous. But I got back at him. I invited all his friends to my house for lunch, all except him of course." The tone had reached an excited pitch. "We weren't happy with ourselves, how could we be happy with one another? If he didn't feel good about himself, he would just go buy a sports coupe, another bit of depression, buy a boat, once he even bought a country house."

"Right, you told me, with a big fireplace." She stared right through him. "Sounds like you really were in love, when did it end?"

"Two years ago, at first I told him that I never wanted to see him again, but little by little we started to see each other, as friends."

"It sounds like you haven't got over him. You realize that you have been looking up at the cathedral while you talk about him."

"No, I'm over him, at first is was very hard. I thought we might get married. It took a while for me go get over it. I went to a psychologist. I still go. She helped me quiet a bit. She really helped me with my father and with Denis."

"What do you talk to her about now?" It seemed she would answer anything, and he wanted to take advantage of the open window.

"About him, my father, I even talked about you the other day, mentioned how you reminded me of my father sometimes, when you're controlling." Alex knew that what he was hearing would affect him, but not now, but he was afraid of when it would.

"I remind you of your father." He shrugged. "So, the fireplace story was with him in the country house you told me about the other day?"

"I told you about it the other day?"

"You did. Are you still sleeping with him?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "It is over between us, we see each other once in a while to have lunch, that's it. It's over. Lets forget about it."

*

Alex turned over and saw her looking at the ceiling, her eyes wide open. They had made love the night before, passionately, and he felt better until her saw her face. It was not the face of a woman in love. He put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. It came from nowhere and once he had said he wished he hadn't. "Are you in love with me?"

She responded without hesitation. "I don't love anyone, not even myself." He rolled over, lit a cigarette. They both looked at the ceiling.

"It's a shame. I think this could've worked. I really thought we had a future. And with all this craziness going on, we could have had something to fall back on. But you're a block of ice; you don't feel anything. You are as cold as they come. I think something happened to you that left you lame, lame in the heart. Your life is going to be miserable, so will mine, who gives a shit. You make me sick." He got up, took off his clothes and walked into the bathroom, but then came back. "You know, not saying anything is saying something. Why can't you ever say anything?" She continued to look up, with no expression. "So this guy broke your heart and there is no getting around it, it's him or no one?" No reaction. "You could care less. I could be anyone as far as you're concerned. There is nothing inside you, nothing. How can you live like that? Want my advice, go see if you can get mister banker back, maybe something on the side, at least you might feel something, not just lay there without even the courage to say something. Whatever happened to you, it really fucked you up." This time he got into the shower.

The water banged away at him. Washing her away. Away. "I am free of her, of her misery, of her hate." The water washed away at him till she was almost gone. "Thank god, get rid of her, she will drive you insane. I need to be happy, not full of pain and doubt. Let her go." She was almost gone and he felt free. But then came a thought. "What is love? Is it having something you like, and when it breaks you through it away. No, no. It has to be unconditional, it has to be all the way. You love and you love and that is it. I love her. With all her defects I love her. I have got to give it all, and if I get burned, then I get burned. Give it all." He put a towel on and walked out of the bathroom and sat beside her. The eyes still upward, arms by her side, as if she were a mummy. He put his hand on her stomach.

"Matilde, I'm sorry for saying those things. I was angry. The truth is I love you. I really do. I'm in love with you and I love you, and it doesn't have anything to do with what you feel for me or not. No strings, no conditions. I've never felt this way." Her eyes finally moved. She grabbed his arm. Tears. Once he saw them he felt his own. "If you want to stay with me great, if you have to go, go. But know that I do love you, and I'll try to get you through whatever you have to get through. You will have someplace to turn."

"Don't leave me, don't ever leave me." She almost yelled it at him, pulling him toward her. That day once again the magic returned. They floated. All week he felt like he had never felt, he felt like a man. But as the week dragged on the image of Denis began to haunt him. He sent her an email. "I've never felt this good with a woman."

She responded quickly. "We're doing well and I know we can do better." He thought about Denis. Why couldn't she have said the same, too honest. Must have felt better with him. The chimney. The money. The power. He even walked by his bank. There was no end to it. By the next weekend he didn't know what to think.

They had ended the night late in an exotic frenzy mixed with passion bordering on the violent. Alex woke after only a few hours sleep, 9 AM, wide awake, as if thrown back into consciousness. But he was obsessed, he had to know what had happened between them in the weeks before. The shower left him energetic, too energetic. He knew he was still drunk, and he began to think about a large northern beer and one of their big sandwiches.

The crowd cheered their football team playing in a different time zone, it wasn't his countries team, but it was a Federation country, the best Fed country for football, and the only one with real chances in the competition. The dark lights were comforting; he drank beer and smoked until his body had found the equilibrium it needed to recall all she had told him. "I love you." The Chimney. The psychologist. Denis. Voices and names and conversations running through his head.

The bartender said hello and wiped the bar. "Did you hear about the new division of clones they are talking about." Alex shook his head, showing interest. "They say they have eliminated the genes for mercy and compassion while saving the ones for camaraderie and loyalty. A soldier who drinks in here told me about it, he's a paratrooper. Says they have been reeking havoc on the Alliance countries, doing special ops missions, it's all top secret, the government denies that it has ever done cloning."

"But do they all look the same, I mean, if they are clones?"

"He says there are different types for different jobs, they say they can make them mature at three times the normal rate, ready for combat in six years. Apparently they all have similar faces, and they have bred them to be exceptionally loyal to each other and to their superiors. They live on special bases on the old colonial islands, he says he met a few of them, creepy he called it."

"Wooo. Weird stuff, but you never really know, do you? I mean, can you really believe it?"

"I don't know." Responded the big bartender. "What're you doing here so early? I only opened to let these goons watch their football match."

"Had a bit of a bad night with my girlfriend. Let me ask you a question, you ever have a girl talk about having sex with another guy?"

"Oh yeah, I had one who used to tell me all the weird stuff she did, fucked three guys at a time once, turned me on. Why?"

"You liked it?"

"Yeah, why not? I'm not jealous." Alex admired the big handsome bar tender and his huge, muscular arms. I guess I'm just insecure, he thought. "What happened?"

"The other day she, out of the blue, says how she liked to screw by the fireplace, we've never done that. I thought it was weird, than I ask her about and I could tell she's still hung up on the guy." The bartender poured himself a small beer and offered Alex a smoke.

"Listen man, one thing is telling you stuff you want to hear, and another is fucking with you. Let her go, blow her off. If she comes back than maybe something good will come out of it, but don't push it. My experience, women who have been hurt are nasty, just dying to leave corpses on their trail." Alex looked up at him like he should know. Finally a beer that would not go down. He carefully walked out into the bright day, tired and angry, wishing it were night.

As he entered the apartment he saw her in the kitchen with a coffee mug. She smiled quickly and silently. He stared at her. She realized instantly how drunk he was and knew she needed to get out. "So, should we make a fire? We can light up the furniture. Who cares, maybe you will remember old times? Why don't you say anything? Why can't you say anything, always acting so fucking interesting."

*

When he woke up he almost jumped out of the bed. "Matilde?" "Matilde?" He tried to remember as he searched the apartment. Dashiel yawned from atop the bar. What have I done? Did I hit her? When did she leave? He began to tremble. What have I done? He remembered the morning, it had been maybe 11AM, now it was 6.30 PM. She was drinking coffee. Something about a fire, the darkness. He was terrified. He made a gin tonic quickly and began to smoke. I should call her he thought. One more drink. His second gin tonic.

She picked up on the second ring. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much, did I hurt you."

"No, you pulled my hair though. That's it; you won't have another chance to do it. We're over. Forget about me."

"Please. I'm sorry. I was all worked up about the fireplace thing. Please, let me make it up to you."

"Don't worry about my private life, we had some fun, but it's over. I won't be humiliated like that anymore."

"I love you. I really do. I just got very jealous when you talked about your other boyfriend. Do you love me?" Silence. "You told me you were in love with me, give me one more chance, please."

"I should have stopped seeing you after you pulled that stunt in my apartment. Forget me. It's over. It doesn't matter if I love you or if I don't, I won't be treated that way."

"But what did I do? All I remember was talking about a fire."

"You called me a slut, than you pulled my hair back and told me to leave, to go back to Denis. This is over. Forget it. Goodbye."

His eyes were half closed. He sat in the large comfortable chair and put on the TV. He saw her on the couch, on the chair by the window, in the kitchen, at the kitchen table. Dashiel looked at him. Did Dashiel see what had happened? He turned on the television. The Vatican. The Pope had abdicated. He made another drink. He could hardly move. The emptiness ran through his body. He had never felt like this. He began to cry. He hadn't cried in so long he really didn't know what was happening to him. He began to cry profusely, leaning over, finally falling to the ground. He curled on the ground and yelped with pain, a pain he didn't want to know. Only a few days before he had been so happy. The Pope was abdicating. He said it was a question of faith. There would be elections. There was talk that the Cardinals would be able to come now that a truce seemed near.

"In this moment of hope for the world, when we have come so close to the brink, and finally, have seen a way out, His Holy Father has lost his faith."

Faith in what. Over the sound of the television he heard a voice. He turned the sound off and he could hear the neighbor. She was fortyish, single mom. She was having sex. He could hear the breathing, the words. He began to cry again.

CHAPTER 11

The back of the boat clapped lightly against the water. Sophy watched Denis's thin back as he steered the boat, then swung her chair to face Matilde on the stern chair. Small islands passed them, occasionally sustaining homes with docks. Two large sport fishing boats passed them on their way back, the older couples waving and smiling. Denis returned the gestures, but Sophy and Matilde just looked out of their fashionable sun glasses. "Come on, tell me what happened with Alex. It will be good for you."

Matilde's face was hidden behind the glasses, her lips unexpressive, finally she put her large teeth over her thick bottom lip, as if trying to hide it. "He pulled my hair, began to say very disagreeable things to me. I can't be around someone like that." The tone was direct, only her head moved from side to side.

"What did he say?"

Matilde raised her chest in a deep breath, debating whether to cut her off or continue. "He said I was a whore and that he would build me a fire to fuck Denis by. He was very drunk. I think he is an alcoholic." Sophy finally sat up, rising out of her calm trance.

"You told him about Denis and the country house!" She smiled, shaking her head, her breasts moving side to side in the bikini; the grin gave an insect type expression with the dark, round sunglasses. Sophy let out a small giggle through her nose. "Poor thing. He's cute though, too cute for you, I think. You need them to be meaner, and a little uglier. Like him." She swung her head toward the stern. They both smiled.

"No more young guys. My mother told me, Matilde, don't go out with any one who isn't at least five years older than you. She's right. They're too insecure. I'll be alone now, for a while, it's fine with me. My brother, he must be with a girl always, if not, he loses his mind. He is afraid to be alone, not me, I can be alone."

"You have him, sort of." Matilde shrugged her shoulders. The boats engine murmured loudly, intimating the power they were capable of unleashing, the long shaped bow of the speed boat dancing to the first large waves of the open sea. Denis head turned around, his voice dim in the waves and mist.

"Let's take a cruise around the upper islands, there are some nice coves, then we can head down the coast and find a beach." The two women nodded without interest. The boat turned, away from the inlet toward more islands. They were dense with vegetation and large trees, Denis carefully guiding the boat slowly away from the main waterway and finally entering a large cove with only one opening to enter or exit. He put both engines into neutral and the large bow slowly lowered onto the water. As the boat approached the far end of the cove he swung to port, letting it glide as he turned toward the girls with a smile. His expression changing as he saw a small boat anchored ahead of him , invisible from outside the cove, the boat continuing to glide as his expression changed. Sophy eyeing the both of them and smiling, Matilde expressionless, Denis obviously annoyed. Breathing deeply, he opened the cooler and removed a beer, waiting for other boat to reach to move far away enough for him to turn around and exit. His calm unnerved Sophy, not Matilde. She watched the large trees rise as they glided, removing her sunglasses. One thin young man moved his pelvis between the two white thighs, her trunk invisible. Another man, late twenties, sat facing the rear of the man moving his pelvis. Another large bearded man with a belly watched both with a smile. Sophy thought the man in the back watching was going to cry. He stood quickly, saying something unintelligible in a loud voice and lunging toward the man with the moving pelvis. The man with the belly caught him with a right hand across the face, sending him crashing into the side of the boat, another yelp, less intense, and one more fist, now from above, crushing his head against a cleat, the blood rushing down his head. The pelvis continued to move.

The large speedboat moved dangerously close to the end of the cove, all three observing intensely the scene on the small boat. "Denis, the front of the boat!" Shouted Matilde. Denis quickly jumped to the controls, putting both engines into reverse, changing the course of the boat before the bow reached sand. He then began the slow maneuver of turning the boat around, which would bring them very close to the second boat.

The bloody head slipped down off the cleat, disappearing into the boat. The large man picked up the bloody man by his bathing suit, holding his head by a clump of hair, and slamming it again against the cleat again. As he lifted the head up the blank eyes looked directly into Matilde's. "Watch, watch her suck his dick." The other man stopped moving his pelvis and lifted the girls head up by her blonde hair, her eyes closed, the bleeding man's head forced close to her by the large man. "How do you like watching her, you piece of shit." The girl pulled her head back and opened her eyes, looking at the bloody man than up, than across at the boat. The terror reached across the water. All three watching her as the bow of the large boat passed within five meters. All eyes crossed. The large man angrily slapping the bloody mans face. "Watch, you piece of shit." The young thin man grabbed the blonde hair.

Matilde stood as the boat swung to an almost parallel position with the smaller craft, Denis concentrating on the maneuver. "Let her go! Stop that! I will call the police. Let her go!" Sophy sat silent, her glasses in her hands. As Matilde shouted Denis accelerated the boat into a fast curve out of the cove, the sudden speed causing Matilde to sit. "Denis, do something!" She shouted. He put his hand out, motioning her to wait. Finally, he slowed the engines, the back of boat the rising, rocking in its own wake.

"They're armed. I saw a pistol in a holster. I don't have any weapons here." His breathing heavy. "I'm going to radio it in from here, just in case they saw me with the radio and began to fire.

"I didn't see the gun, did you?" Sophy shook her head while Denis spoke on the radio, glasses on, confident and commanding. "Good thing he saw it. I could've been shot. Do you think they were friends, I mean, that they knew each other?" Matilde raised her eyebrows and shoulders at the same time, but spoke no words. Denis stood with the microphone in his hand, waiting for an answer.

"It looked to me like a pleasure boat ride that got out of hand, two friends and the couple, and the two boys got restless, not very pretty." He responded to the police explaining he would wait outside the cove till they arrived, and telling them that the boaters were armed. Denis sat down in the third chair, finishing the beer he had opened entering the cove. "Poor girl, but I don't want to risk it. Keep an eye out for them"

"Yes, let's stay here. God, I could've been killed." Sophy, now with her glasses on, sat with her knees spread, forearms resting on the thighs, tears began to roll under the glasses, Matilde held her, stroking her arm while Denis watched. Matilde brushed the tears from her cheeks and held her head to her chest.

"There it is, the police boat, it must have come from the station in the inlet." They left after acknowledging and directing the boat toward the inlet. The boat raced now at top speed, there faces thrown back, the water calm, the slightest wave causing the boat to jump and slam down, the motors roaring. Matilde tried to turn her head to smile at Sophy, but she was afraid her glasses would fly off. A wave, a massive leap, the boat almost leaving the water, Matilde's stomach gasping, grateful for the slam of the return to the water. The speed being reduced, Denis turned and grinned, the girls exhilarated.

"Who's going to take a swim first?"

"Me!" Matilde smiled as she took off her shorts, and leapt off the side of the boat.

"You're not going in?"

"Not right now. I'll watch her." Matilde resurfaced, than began to swim away from the boat, head down, in strict form.

"Come here, I want to show you something." He opened the door of the cabin, Sohpy ducked her head and passed through. Down the small stair, as she turned in the dark stuffy space he immediately put his hand on the back of her head, bringing her mouth to his, plunging his tongue into her. She reacted without pausing, moving her hand down to his crotch. He pulled her bikini down, kissing her neck and breast, then quickly turning her around on the small stair, and entering her from behind. His deep breathing became a moan, finally a voice.

"Oh God, O my God, keep going, don't stop. Keep going." Her voice rising, within moments Denis finished, bending over her, breathing deeply, his back jolting as he rested his chest on her back. He pulled his bathing suit up with one stroke, she left the cabin without her bikini top. The bright light blinding, the air refreshing, and Matilde already lying nude on the cushion above the motor. Matilde lay next to her, their breasts swinging with the wake.

"Pass me the sunscreen." Denis handed her the cream, and she immediately gave it to Matilde, who squirted some on her hand before turning over, allowing her sunglasses to pause a moment on Denis. She began on her shoulders, working her way down to the breasts, stomach and thighs, moving her fingers up and down her body, finally kissing one of her nipples before turning over, and having Sophy begin the same process on her. Denis, feet up, watching. Sophy's kisses were longer, from the belly up to the breasts, around the neck, finally with her tongue racing through Matilde's mouth. Matilde still, her chest rising slowly . Sophy stood and kissed her sex over the bikini, then turned and dove into the water.

Denis moved directly for Matilde, lifting her bikini off her legs, placing her ankles on his shoulders, entering her directly, silently. Matilde's face expressionless as she was rocked on the white, sticky cushion. Denis finished, returning to the chair in silence. Matilde remaining on the cushion. She sat up, looking across the water for Sophy. "What are those fins, do you see them?"

He jumped up to see the three large black fins, one very tall, and the other two smaller, moving in perfect unison. Sophy swam calmly back to the boat, unaware of the Orcas swimming behind her. Matilde stood atop the cushions on the motor, and Denis next to the ladder that lowered into the water. They watched in silence, motionless as the Orcas closed the distance to Sophy. The largest whale submerged while the other two stopped and raised their heads, their milky dark eyes peering at Matilde and Denis. The larger whale was invisible as Denis took Sophy's hand to lift her into the boat, only showing his nerves at the end by pulling her strongly, causing her to stumble on the deck.

"My God Sophy, you didn't see them, did you? You didn't see the Orcas." Sophy's head shook slightly, following Denis's open eyes to the other side of the boat where the large male was looking up, with his mouth open, making a noise, the female and her calf on the other side responding. Sophy moved her head as if watching a tennis match, a grin rising on her face.

"What a day, what a day." Denis poured rum into three glasses, they sat quietly, listening to the whales who swam under the boat, changing sides, speaking. The sun was filtered by rolling clouds, relieving the sticky heat for a moment, the whales finally departing in perfect unison.

"They're pods, they tend to eat mammals, especially two legged mammals from your country." Grinning. "Nothing to do with the fish eaters that live in much larger groups, the ones that steal the tuna's from your fisherman. You're tasty." Matilde turned her sun glassed face toward him. Sophy turning her head between the two. "You're lucky he wasn't hungry." They rocked in the gentle wake, the coast invisible. Sophy licking the paper on a joint, the sunlight losing another shade of glare, they rocked in silence, each imagining what the other was thinking in an endless circle.

Sophy broke the moment by passing the cigarette to Matilde. "I love the idea of the three day holiday for peace. But do you really think it will hold, I mean, do you think it is for real?"

"They say they are going to sign the agreement this evening, we'll be back to see it, and the arrangement seems reasonable, at least some people say that it is sustainable. I hope so, but what would we gain by going to war. What worries me are the attacks in your country, they say three thousand people were killed in an air raid on the rebel villages, is it true?"

Matilde nodded. Sophy explained "I talked to my brother yesterday, they're upset, they say it was in retaliation for the rebel group trying to negotiate outside the Alliance with the Feds. He said they're probably exaggerating the numbers though."

"Will there be a protest march here?" Sohpy raised her eyebrows, and Matilde lifted her hands.

"There is the march tomorrow, to celebrate the peace agreement, but I haven't heard anything about a protest march, they've killed a lot of people in the capital, a cousin of mine was killed in one of their bombings." Explained Matilde. "Do you think the brokers will start coming back to the office, there aren't many of people left in the bank, you know."

"Definitely, I was going to leave this week, and now I'm staying, the markets are really bouncing back, a lot of people want to reinvest, we are going to be busy, I think the worst is over. I would go the march tomorrow, but they've convened us to a Federation wide meeting for Private Banking, tomorrow, to develop what they are already calling the recovery strategy. I must say I really thought we were going to war, to total war; I was preparing the country house. The truth is one of the soldiers I hired already moved out there with his family. I don't know what I will do with him, but anyway, I'd rather have that problem then the war. For peace!" He raised his glass, the smile on his face strangely childlike and unselfconscious.

CHAPTER 12

Alex followed the stream of umbrellas through the monumental avenue in the city center. His dark shirt soaked up the rainwater and after brushing his wet hair back he glimpsed a motorcade outside one of the oldest and most respected hotels in the old city center. He crossed the street, working his way through crowd brusquely, a few heads turning aggressively toward him, Alex ignoring them, his stare keeping the angry bystanders silent. He stood for a moment looking at the entrance of the hotel, a policeman in a raincoat keeping the crowd on the sidewalk. Closer to the door was an island of people atop a small curb. Alex left the far curb and walked toward the small curb, the policeman moving behind him.

"Hey, hey you, get back there, get back on the curb." Alex looked back at him, squinting his left eye. Another woman tried the same maneuver; the policeman ignored Alex and hurriedly pushed the woman back to the far curb. "Don't make me take out my stick." He placed his hand on the handle of the wooden club, the yellow poncho racing up and down the line of people.

The few people on the small curb where bunched together, directly in front of the door of the hotel, only the driveway separating them from the staircase that flowed down from the lobby. The staircase was filled with cameras and reporters. Several uniformed members of the Royal Guard moved anxiously around the entrance to the hotel, backing up the motorcade and changing the order of two cars. Alex asked a serious face next to him. "Who's coming out?"

"The king, apparently he's going to make a statement before leaving. They're going to take him to the airport."

"So this is it, I thought he might change his mind after they signed the agreement yesterday." The serious face shook somberly.

"No, I'm afraid there's no turning back for him, it's over, the parts of the government that were able to reach the agreement were never in favor of his majesty."

Alex thought. Pathetic man, but I'll still hate to see him go, good old guy, likes the girls and gin more than I do. At the top of the stair, just outside the lobby door a microphone was hurriedly set up and tested, the muffled sound of the loudspeakers reached the crowd through the rain. The testing continued until a uniformed guard, holding his ear piece, nodded to the man testing the microphone. One of the motorcycles of the motorcade wouldn't start. The policeman, dressed in riding gear, looked at his partner. "In the rain, they sometimes don't start." They began to move the crowd out to push the bike, finally getting it started. All the movement at the entrance of the hotel ended, the TV cameras turned on their lights, the uniformed guards stood at the bottom of the stair, beside the cars. A large dark Mercedes sat directly across from the microphone, with three cars ahead of it, and four behind it. A murmur in the crowd, people on their toes, the cameras beginning to click incessantly. First the Foreign Minister, followed by King and Queen side by his side. The Queen wore a serious dress, her dark brilliant hair in an elegant bun, her eyes looked up. She gave a quick smile. The crowd began a slow applause that grew, then the King waived, tears from the Queen and as applause continued, the Foreign Minister looking on with a curt grin, the rhythm of the clicks from the cameras increasing, the King moved toward the microphone.

"Your King speaks to you with a sad heart, but also a hopeful spirit. Yesterday our government signed an historic agreement, an agreement that avoided what seemed like certain war, and has forged a lasting peace for the world. Your King rejoices in the relief and hope that now fills our civilization, but my heart is heavy knowing that I will no longer be with you, for today I will depart, officially abdicating my role within our state, which will, after constitutional changes, become a Republic. I respect the will of the people, but I will miss you, and our land and our culture, but I'm sure that the future will be bright, and you can rest assured that your King will always keep you close to his heart, wherever he may be. Farewell."

They both waived, the Minister looking on, his small eyes darting between the public, the Queen and the King. They walked down toward the car, one of the uniformed guards saluting, the King saluting then shaking his hand. The light rain sprinkling their clothes, the Queen waived, then entered the car, the king looked on, smiled, waived and into the car. The motorcycles sped by, leading the motorcade out onto the wide avenue. Within moments they were gone, people began to disperse, but Alex waited with the man next to him. He decided he would go when the man next to him left. They stood side by side, waiting, watching the microphone being dismantled, the police slowly walking toward their cars, the Royal Guards leaving in civilian automobiles. The rain intensified and Alex continued to watch with his companion, feeling comforted in the large, in the grandiose, not wanting to return to the mundane. The serious face turned to him. "That's it. He's gone. We're a Republic." He shrugged his shoulders and left. Alex waited one more moment, ridiculously alone in front of the hotel, in the rain, not knowing where to go on the new holiday.

*

There was plenty of day left, and the rain at least sheltered the city from the excruciating heat. The wide median continued, filled with statues, Naval headquarters, the National Museum. Alex continued to walk up the imposing avenue, more and more people accompanying him, a constant mass of people entered from side streets and subway accesses, some peace flags, but not in the angry way. This was not a peace march against someone, it was a celebration. All converging on one of the main squares. So many people, so many smiles, so many couples. Alex was exited and looked for pub, finding a dark quiet one.

He was filled with the strange sensation of watching on television something he had just been a part of, the beginning of the demonstration, finally the King waiving from an airplane. The dark stuffy room, his damp body, all the history passing so close to him. He drank and drank, quietly watching the parade of people pass through the rain, the commentators stressing the historic agreement, the fact that it was a great day for all, sounding like a thirty-second spot. The first demonstrators reaching the pub, wet, happy, thirsty. Celebrating the beginning of the rest of their lives. Alex looked at his phone. Dreaming that somehow he could make it ring. He looked at the stool beside him, he imagined her on it, her expression was sweet. She smiled silently, she smiled like the day when she told him she loved him. He physically smiled. She became very real, he smelled her perfume, before fading away. The phone, she must phone him, it must ring. He imagined it ringing.

"Another pint?"

"Sure." He lit a cigarette. He had erased her phone number, he couldn't remember it. He raced through his contacts. Sophy. He had Sophy's phone number. He played with the phone, a drink, a smoke. He rang her.

"Hello."

"Hi Sophy, this is Alex, is Matilde there." He put all the upbeat pitch he could into it even though he felt like he was going to cry.

"Hi Alex. Hold on, I'll pass her to you."

"What do you want?"

"I want to see you. I need to see you. Please."

"What for? I don't really think there is anything left to say, accept that this is over, and that's it. Just accept it. Goodbye."

"Hold on, please, just let me see you one more time, just one more time. I need to hear it in person, please." Silence. He waited. He prayed.

"I'll be in the cafe at the beginning of my street, in about an hour."

"Great, I'll see you there, bye." Click. He looked up at the mirror, he suddenly looked handsome, the first time he felt good looking at himself since she left.

He looked at the pint, at the cigarettes, at the bar, and thought I've got to do something, I have got to get her back. Show her I love her, tell her how much I love, love her. Don't give up. Apologize. Tell her you realize how badly you acted, that her old boyfriends are her old boyfriends. I have got to grow up quickly. I can't lose this one. Too much on the line. He became intense, focused. He left the pub, decided to walk to the cafe, through the mist of an off-and-on light rain. Breathing deeply, he stepped with assurance, his mind sharp and on target. My last chance. He thought.

*

"What I am going to say to him, maybe I should just call him and cancel it, why do I want to see him again? He is unbalanced, immature. I'm not in love with him, not really."

"You seemed to be before all this happened." Said Sophy.

"But not like with Denis."

"Well, I don't know, if you had given him a chance, you might have, but if you compare everyone to Denis, and think that in the end they'll all treat you like Denis, than you'll never get over him. You told me the sex was great, better than with Denis, and that you felt like he really loved you, which is exactly the feeling Denis doesn't give you, and that really Alex was more real, not as self conscious, remember at our party. Denis would never have said that about the whiskey, even though he probably thinks it."

Matilde thought. Maybe she wants me to go back to Alex so she can start with Denis, they seemed to connect on the boat, more than we did.

"What do you want me to do? Go back with him, he's violent, you saw him at the party. He pulled my hair, he called me a whore. No, no, imposible. I can't let him treat me that way."

"You told me he grabbed your pony tail and said 'Go, go fuck him by the fireplace.' Matilde, most guys don't like to hear about how you have made love to other guys, it's normal, you shouldn't have said it, but after you did, you could have reassured him somehow, instead of insisting he accept it. You were both wrong, but also you have to get to know each other, if not, you will never get anywhere, it'll be fling after fling. Give him a chance. Talk to him."

"I don't think so. I really don't think so. I can't go back to him, but I will listen to what he has to say. I'll call you." They embraced, then kissed on the lips, lingering in each others eyes. "I loved the other day on the boat, I really did."

"So did I."

*

She walked up the street, late enough to not have to wait for him. I can't go back with him, I can't, he will hurt me, he's out of control. I don't want this. This is too much. Too much emotion. It was bad enough with Denis.

Her pace increased. Be strong. Don't bend. He is dangerous. He's good, but he is dangerous. I'll find my way, not so much danger anymore, things have to calm down. There are plenty of men who like me, a calm life. I can't live like this. There he was, looking across the street, under the umbrella. He doesn't belong in this neighborhood. He looks out of place. He's not for me. He is one of them. He'll hurt me.

"Hi." He stood up, and tried to kiss on the lips, but she swung her face away, allowing him to kiss her on the cheek.

"How are you, ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Listen, Matilde, I'm really sorry about what happened the other day. I feel really terrible. I had no right to say those things to you, or to grab you by your hair. There are no excuses. Being drunk is no excuse for that neither is what you said about your old boyfriend. There's no excuse. I was very jealous, and that mixed with the drinking, and I lost it. I realize I need to mature, to accept that you have a past just like I do, and that's that. But I really do love you, I do. I want to be with you, I need you. I know you love me, you told me. We can work things out, I promise you. Look at me, I promise, that this will never happen again." She began to shake her head.

"I know it will never happen again, because we're not going to be together. That's that. You hit me, and I can't be with you. I'm sorry."

"But you love me, I know you do. Tell me you don't love me."

"That doesn't matter. This is over."

"No, we have something special, this type of relationship doesn't pop up every day, this is more than some weekend fling. I really think there is something here. We just have to grow, I need to mature, and so do you. You can't spend the rest of your life resenting what that guy did to you, don't let him destroy this too. I made a mistake, I need to learn to respect you and your life before me, but I can do that, please. Let me show you."

"But you can't, you are always asking about my past, trying to control me. I can't be with someone like that. No. Forget it." Alex's breathing deepened; they looked into each other's eyes.

"That's not true, maybe I delved too much into your relationship with Denis, but only because you brought it up, but I'm not controlling. I really am not, I never have been. I got obsessed with what you said, but Matilde, I'm human. And I didn't hit you." Alex suddenly realized how important words were, of the effect of one over the other. "I grabbed you by the pony tail, but I didn't hit you and I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it to make you listen to me. There's a difference." She continued to shake her head, then opened a large bag and removed a small notebook.

"I wrote a note to you this morning, let me read it 'When I walk with you, hand in hand, feeling your lips against mine, I'm in a dream, but when you leave it disappears and I realize that what I feel is not real. It's lie. You leave and I realize that this can never be.' That's it. I didn't finish it. But it can't be. We can't be together, just accept it. You'll be fine, you need to get over me."

That knocked him off his center. He felt himself getting angry. "You're saying that the moments we've had together are a lie?" He stared at her. "You are lying to yourself. That's the lie, not what we have." Her lips closed, her eyes glossed over, he could smell her, something had changed. He reached over to hold her hand.

"You have no right! No right." She pulled her hand off the table and brought it to her eyes, rubbing away the tears. He left his hand where hers had been. "No, you have no right."

"Matilde, I love you, I really do. We have something special, if we didn't, you wouldn't be crying, you wouldn't be here." She put her hand on top of his; he ran his fingers around her wrist. "Let's go somewhere else. I'll go pay for this." He returned, watching her, afraid she had changed her mind. "Let's go." She rose, he reached for her hand and she let him take it, he could feel the moisture of her tears on the skin. They walked in silence, he could smell her, the heat was now intense, it filled his lungs and enveloped his body. She wore a tank top with thin strings wrapping over her now very tan shoulders. The first beads of sweat were forming on her neck. He stopped and brought his hands around her stomach, kissing her forehead.

She finally embraced him, digging her fingers into his back. "Why do you do this, why?" Her head rested on his chest, while he brushed back her hair. He lifted her head and began kissing her, their tongues flew with passion. They paused and looked into each others eyes, than continued walking, finally entering a dark pub, and bringing their drinks into the cellar, watching another couple play pool. She sat on his lap, they both smiled impulsively, the affection was constant. She reached into her bag, removed the notebook. "I am going to write you another note." He observed as she wrote quickly, kissing the back of her neck. This happiness. He thought. This happiness is too much, it is complete, it is total, what could happen after this. She handed him the notebook.

'My love,

You were right, this is real. I feel you and kiss you and I know that I love you. The only enemy we have is fear, but touching you and feeling you I know that we have a deep love. If we really try, we can be together.

I love you,

Matilde.'

He read the note, then they hugged each other. "We can't let this happen again, we have to take care of this. I really will, I will make sure that we don't ever fall into this trap again. Let's go get some dinner, know good place that's open."

*

They left the restaurant, he was hesitant with his movements, but she almost ran to the sidewalk to hail a taxi. She called out her street to the driver than turned to kiss him. They hurried up the stairs, crashing on to her bed, making love powerfully, completely, without pretense or fantasy, all real, all in the moment.

He looked at the ceiling, the windows open, the street sounds racing around the room. The silence between them lingered. She began to speak. "Come here, come here and look at me. Look at me. I love you. Do you believe me? Why don't you believe me? I love you. I really do. Don't doubt it."

"I believe you, I do, I will never doubt, I promise." She pounded his shoulders with her fists.

"I love you, I really do. But I'm afraid of you. But believe me, I love you." They embraced, a long embrace that became sleep.

He awoke to his phone alarm, showered and dressed quickly. Her face was hidden under the sheet, which he removed. "I have to go eat with my mother, I promised her." He kissed her cheek. She didn't respond. He kissed it again. No response. "Come on, give me that sweet smile, come one." He large lips finally unfolded to show the big teeth and a full smile. "Give me a call tonight, call me and tell me something sweet, will you." Silence. "Will you".

"I will."

"I love you."

"I love you too." That old tone.

*

He sat on his couch, the long day, the trains back and forth, he drank a gin tonic, and watched the state television. They explained in pretty diagrams the peace agreement. How much each would scale back emissions, how soon they would reach 100% clean energy, the forests to be planted. It reminded him of the not always sincere presentations he made to potential advertisers. Do people really believe this? He thought. He lit a cigarette and remembered yesterday. It filled him with joy, how close he had come to real disaster, he thought. Take care of her, don't ever cross that line again. He looked at the phone. 'If I look at it now, will it ring, now that I have the energy.' It rang, it was her.

"Alex, it's me. I need to tell you something. I'm really sorry, but I can't be with you, I'm really sorry. I can't see you any more. Don't call me or send me emails. This morning I went to have breakfast with Bibi, and I realized I can't be with you. Please, just let me go."

"How can you say that, after what happened last night, why do you let these people change your mind, last night you were in love with me and now you say you never want to see me. No. No."

"Yes, that's the way it is. You're to unstable, this relationship is dangerous. It's over."

"Tell me to my face at least, don't be a coward, look me in the eyes and tell me."

"I can't. It is too much for me. I'm sorry that it has to be this way. Goodbye."

"You're a coward." He through the phone across the room.

CHAPTER 13

The familiar sights and smells of the clinic reverberated with freshness, with unnoticed tones and nooks. He walked firmly through the empty halls, jumping up the stairs, swinging on the end of the railing, tensing as the partly opened door approached. He knocked.

"Come in, Maurice, I have everything ready, take a seat. You're sure about this, like I said, if you want to stay, we can stop this, things have changed, the crisis is over." The white robe enveloped the large, dark man, whose pudginess hinted at benevolence. "I just want to make sure, we would love you to stay."

"Thank you very much, I really do appreciate the offer, but we've decided. Even though things are definitely getting better, we would like to get away for awhile, to live in the country, to make a change." The older man nodded while removing his glasses and passing the papers to Maurice.

"It's all as we discussed. Sign here...here....here and here." He handed the check to him. "No problem with the check, I called the bank to confirm, you might want to go directly there to cash it though." He stood up and walked around the desk, extending his hand. "When you come back, if you're interested in working in this type of practice, please let me know, we will always have a place for you, good luck." Maurice showed his widest, warmest grin. He waited till reaching the second flight of stairs before jumping and swinging down the stairs. He had said his good-byes the day before, he was leaving for good.

He walked to the bank invigorated, going over in his mind the three accounts he would leave open, their expenses, the credit cards he would keep just in case, the gold coins he had at home for the trip north. All in order, ready to go. This last check he would add to the cash he was leaving with, the envelope put firmly into the light cotton sports coat, he hailed a taxi. Once more he joyfully ran through all the preparations, all in order, it was like reviewing the solution to a difficult equation once it had been finally solved, basking in the simplicity of it. The city vibrated with joy, it was like the week before Christmas, or the day after the national team won an important match. He was happy for them, more so for himself. He could leave knowing that, at least for the moment, the patient was cured. But what went wrong once will go wrong again, I'm getting out just in time. I'm glad for them. I hope it lasts.

*

The flames from the grill leapt through their iron prison, the heat reaching across the bar to the entrance of the dinning room. He immediately recognized his uncle, nodding his head as he focused on the screen of the large television which was replaying an old international football match. He stood as Maurice reached the table, "Hey kid, how's things?" He turned and gave Maurice a soft right to the shoulder. "Paco, get us a few more beers will you." Maurice sat, bracing himself. He never fully remembered how intense it was until he was back with him. "I remember this match well, I was with my third wife, remember, Aunt Colleen. We were on our honeymoon, and I escaped for a few hours to watch this match, she almost took my head off. Scarier than those Alliance Paratroopers. Boy what a temper."

"What ever happened to her?"

"We got divorced right before I retired, we were living at the base in Kaller, the one they closed after the last set of treaties, she went back to live with her mother, apparently she gave up the booze, got into some weird religion, god knows, what a case she was. So, I hear from your sister that you are leaving. You know Maurice, I promised your mother, before she died, to keep an eye on you, you know, from our point of view, we're different from your father's family. I just wanted to talk to you, make sure you were making the right decision before you left."

"We just want to get away for awhile, the chief physician of the clinic told me I could have my job back if I ever decided to return."

"Right, huh ha, you know, I remember when I was your age, I was thinking about leaving the service. I had quite an experience in the First Alliance War, I'd been wounded, got the Valiant Service Cross, and I began to think it was time to relax, make some money, get away from the responsibility of the Army, but I finally realized how useless my life would be without that sense of duty."

"I know what you mean, I've thought about that."

"Sorry, but you know, what we did in those wars, we saved this civilization, they would've taken us over, and they still might." Maurice looked across the side of his uncles face at a picture of a famous boxer, posing with his fists up, signed. How much did it cost the restaurant? He thought. Did they sign them to get out of paying the bill? Or just for a few rounds of drinks? How could I have loved all these stories? I believed them, trusted them, well into adolescence, they were the truth to the lies of dad, now I understand why he called him a bullshit artist. A blowhard. Dad is nobodies fool. God help me. He really believes this. I don't know who is worse.

"I have told you, I'm sure, about the last battle of Tikalba?" Maurice looked on pleasantly, thinking, One last time, so I can really understand it. "We were thrown back by one of their counterattacks to the peninsula, we dug in, and slammed the shit of them through the air. Somehow, they caught one of our patrols, six kids and a young officer, I knew his father. I was a Major at the time, I'm in the command tent with the Colonel, and we get the news, we were close to ending things, then Colonel Bobbet didn't want to end things on a bad note, it really dug into him, and asks me, Pete, what should..." Maurice remembered the whole story, he had told them more than once as an adolescent to his friends, it was his model of manhood as a boy and now, it seemed so absurd. The same thinking that had gotten them to where they were now. He listened now as a student of all that was wrong with them. "..we do? And I said, without thinking twice, call the bastards on it, tell them to kill them, and, let them know that we will launch 6 cruise missiles, targeted at their family homes in 12 hours if these boys aren't back safe and sound...end of message, fuck the bastards. They were released in 8 hours, let go in one of our towns, they must have had a cell there. The only way to treat these people." He took a drink of his beer while the waiter served the steaks.

"But do you think we can do the same with them now. I think it is getting dangerous, they now have, or at least could have nuclear weapons. The world is different. I really think the only way to solve this is to reach an agreement. I don't think we can win a total war against them, they have less to lose." His uncle looked up at the TV, then back at him.

"I know what they are saying, but the truth is they are blowing smoke up your asses, all that sweet talk is fine, but in the end if you don't have a disciplined, overpowering, and brutal armed forces to back up all the bullshit, they will call you on it, because they do have the will, and I sure as hell hope we still have it. No offense, but if we all head to the woods, who is going to hold down the fort. These Alliance folks know how to look you in the eye." He cut is steak firmly, decidedly. Maurice thought, Why do I need to hear this, if it were up to him, we would be lobbing nukes at them, they don't care about reaching an agreement, about living in peace. He drank a bit of his beer, and chopped his steak.

"Don't get me wrong kid, I didn't mean to call you a coward or anything, just that someone has got to stand up for the fighting man, seems like we're always the bad guys."

"I know what you mean, but I'm afraid that the ones causing all the problems are you, the military people. The people who control the sources of energy are not willing to negotiate, they'd rather fight, and the generals don't really understand what they are fighting for, someone waves the flag and they get on their horses. Unfortunately, I think it's that mentality that has gotten us to where we are, and even though this seems like it's over, I'm not so sure, any kind of deal that works has to work for both sides, and I'm not sure what kind of deal they have made, a lot of smoke up OUR asses, as you would put it, but what was really been agreed upon. Who's getting what and for how long? You think you might have won by playing tough, but..." Maurice felt a relief run through him, a snapping of a cord that was at once sad yet liberating, the expression in his uncle's face was worthy of pity, but he felt for the first time that he was speaking as a man to his uncle, not falling prey to the awe that had always felt around him. "I know what it means for a person to feel like they have been at least treated respectfully, even if they are going to die, and the key to that, at least for me, is that everyone feels that there has been a real agreement. I'm afraid what happened here is that we showed are teeth and they decided to wait, wait and see, but they have more will, and they are right, as difficult as it may sound, they're right. We want to keep them in misery and poverty while we live comfortably and save our future, it can't be, it really isn't going to work, not for all the bombs you throw and paratroopers you send down their to sabotage their electric plants." He had never seen his uncle's face that way, looking down, nodding in half agreement.

"You may be right, we were an awfully violent generation, but you know, at least we thought it worked, but maybe your right, these Alliance people are willing to go all out, maybe it isn't worth it. Maybe we were wrong."

*

The tendons in her neck were always the first thing he noticed, her head moved softly without moving to acknowledge him. She wore a very long bang that crossed her forehead and ran above her ear. Her body moved with soft, supple grace, her style pliant and warm. Her sexuality is so feminine, yet so powerful, so creative. Maybe too much so for me. Maybe she was a bit bored, she would like someone more inventive, more fun. She'll adjust. She caught his eye, the smile that always seemed genuine to him. He imagined how forced his smiles must be in comparison.

The fear rose through her chest, grabbing her shoulders, pulling at her lips. I have to hold on to myself, it is too late, just hold on. She bent to kiss him on the cheek. I'm going to break up. A cigarette, the smoke. She lit the cigarette quickly. "Honey, will you get me a gin tonic." He left the terrace for the bar to order the drinks. She took a deep drag. Should I say something, should I tell him. He stood at the bar looking straight ahead, nowhere. A sexy girl with a tight skirt walked behind, visible in the mirror. The bartender's eyes followed her while Maurice continued to daze. He's good. Keep quiet.

"Let me have one of those, I forgot how hard it was to quit. Are you ok?"

"Sure, just getting ready for the dinner tomorrow. I had to sign the contract termination, you know, just a little sad to say goodbye to everyone, but on the other hand it will be nice to get a break." She knew he was easily worried. Keep his spirits up. "It will be fun, twenty-five of us at the dinner, then drinks at a club. Too bad they have to go in the next day."

"Everything is ready, all set. I feel really good, ready for something new, for us." They touched glasses. She smiled.

CHAPTER 14

Alex observed the empty stool next to him, turning to watch another plane land through the glass of the airport bar. He admired the tall, cool first beer of the day, his palms sweaty. He placed the cigarettes on the bar.

"Sorry, no smoking in the airport."

"But I thought, I mean, since all that happened, people have been smoking everywhere." Alex leaned his head sideways, turning his hands out. The waiter placed an ashtray on the bar.

"But this is the last time, things are getting really back to normal, you know what I mean?"

"Thanks." He watched the hustle of the business travelers rushing with the sunny backdrop of the runway. "Everything is back to normal for them." he thought. "It was easier when things were crazy." He began to imagine Matilde next to him, trying to perceive the smile, or lack of one. "She will come back, she is thinking of me, or am I just imagining?" He imagined her gone for good, never seeing her again and he began to fall into an immense void. He could not continue. The floor swayed, he held onto the bar. It stopped. "Where will this take me, will she let this happen to me?"

A famous banker waited across the bar; Alex convinced he was on his flight. "Those kind of people never die in plane crashes. As long as he is on the flight back to the capital, I'm safe." A boarding call, the famous banker left on another flight, the fear of flying, the pain, another beer, this one entered well.

Rolling down the runway the he heard every sound, listened for the slightest anomaly. "Will it take off, will it get off the ground?" Finally in the air, each bump or noise jolted him, eventually falling into a dark book. A noise, he didn't know if it was real or imagined. He tried to get back into the book, but the buzzing rose in his hear. The flight attendant's face. Did she hear it? Was she going to tell the pilot? The sweat was rolling off his palms. He searched the faces of the passengers for expressions of fear. None. Maybe they didn't hear it, maybe only he did. "Was it an engine? Would the plane disintegrate into flames?" He imagined the flames ripping through the back of the plane, the panic, the screaming, the death. He wiped his hands on his trousers. "All these faces, hysteria, then I'll die with them." The noise, it was now louder in his ear, very loud. He put down the book, breathed deeply, relaxed his face, and turned to the passenger next to him.

"Excuse me, do you hear a noise? I don't know if it is the air pressure on my ear, or if it is a real noise." The middle-aged woman turned and smiled politely.

"I don't hear anything." She reached into her bag and removed a stick of gum. "Here, chewing gum usually does the trick. Have you read much of his stuff." The conversation lasted till touchdown. The taxi ride back to the office party for Carolina soothed his nerves, a great danger overcome. Matilde suddenly left him.

*

Back in the office he went to the email, she came back to him, the tension. He had sent her four emails, some angry, some pleading. No answer in five days. The inbox filled and her name popped up at him, his heart beating intensely. "Why?" He thought. "Just as a was feeling better."

Dear Alex,

I wrote this letter at home last night, it was late. It may be a bit disorganized, but I wanted to tell what I felt about you. I loved you a lot, and you know that, even though I didn't always know how to show it. I know sometimes I'm not very tactful and I will try and work on that.

But when you get angry, I feel like a helpless little girl. I would think "How could he do this to a little gir?" I felt like a child. I don't know how to confront conflict. I feel full of panic. I don't know how to react.

I fought against my love for you. I didn't want to give myself completely, because for me, it would have meant my end. I lived it inside me. For me it was enough to know I loved you. You could tell, you could read my thoughts.

I wasn't in love with that ex boyfriend, the only thing was that I learned that when you love someone, when you give yourself up, the only thing you get is a nasty blow. So I left my heart closed, and when it opened with you, I got scared and closed it, then opened it again. Back and forth continuously. I'm sorry that at times I spoke of things that I shouldn't have, but I did it out of fear of getting too close to you, of losing myself in you. Sometimes I felt like I could lose control with you, that I was trapped.

After you pulled my hair that day it opened my eyes to things, that one day things could go further. I'm glad you did it because I would never have left you otherwise. You never understood that my love for you was for you. And the past is dead, gone. You couldn't understand that.

I'm sorry that I didn't say this to you in person, but I was afraid that when I saw you I would feel other things, that I would get weak. I'm very sad that one day you'll be happy and I won't be with you, but I want you to be happy.

I love you,

Matilde

He didn't know what it meant, or what she wanted to say. But he know she didn't want to be with him again. It all went to his stomach. He wanted to cry. Then a knock on the door.

Marc entered Alex's office with two large bottles of expensive beer, and two mugs. "How was the trip, do they want to start up again?"

"Great news, they want a whole new campaign, they showed me the new creatives, the message is 'We're back!" , 'A New Future!' etc., here is the insertion order. Just think, you were going to leave it all to me, what a shame I didn't get something signed." It was a relief to talk business.

Marc swung his eyes at Alex, raising an eyebrow. "How about a beer instead?" His eyes running across the buy order. "Things are getting back to normal."

"Where are we having the dinner?"

"It wasn't easy, not too many places were up to speed for dinner for twenty-five people, but we convinced the place we went last year for the Christmas dinner. We should leave in about a half-an-hour. I'm picking up the tab, as well as drinks at Armand's, here are some drink tickets, that should keep you going. We've got to celebrate, boy, it was too close." They touched glasses.

"I'm going to miss Carolina." Said Alex.

"Absolutely. She's a great girl and great to work with. I mean that, when Sophy left, I didn't really care, but we are going to lose something with Carolina gone."

*

He watched Carolina from through the crowd. The usually rigid, almost sad face was glowing. The taffeta dress began on her throat and ended above the knee. They had hardly spoken all night, something they would either do in earnest or avoid all together. Alex smiled at the very drunk programmer; prematurely bald, overweight, famous in the office for his lack of hygiene. He let a pill drop out of his hand into Alex's with a grunt. Alex looked around than snapped his hand toward his mouth, allowing the pill to land on his tongue, hoping it would wash away the note from Matilde.

"They're really good, man, like, really good. They call them Kama sutras."

"How about a round, guys?" Alex had already used all the tickets, distributing the drinks, paying, and catching a long smile from Carolina, who was now with the group of people that she would end the night with.

"I'll be back in a minute." He entered the circle on Carolina's right, she put her hand around his upper arm and pulled at it.

"I'm gonna miss you guys." Almost a tear. Silence.

"How about going to that after-hours, the one close to here. The one we went too at Sophy's going away party." Unanimous. Matilde wouldn't go away. Always something.

Once on the street they walked alone, the rest laughing ahead of them. "So, how are you feeling, gonna leave me all alone here?"

"You've got Matilde, you'll be fine."

"No, that's over, we had a big fight, I got drunk, we got back together for a day, but she said no, she doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I really am, you seemed really happy with her. But are you sure there is no way? Did you really go off?" Alex nodded. The pill was beginning to take effect. "No way, huh." Alex nodded again. "You know, there was something I wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure. I mean, I'm not sure. Anyway. You know, there was something about her that I didn't like. I didn't think she was with you for the right reason." Alex was getting tingly, Carolina's face radiated, the blue taffeta undulated, her lips shined.

"I could tell you didn't like her." He stretched open his mouth, to feel the tingling throughout his face. "But what were you going to tell me?"

"Remember the banker she was with? He's seeing Maurice's sister, the painter. I guess you know Matilde used to date him? They worked in the same office. Monica told me she is sure that they still see each other. The weekend she said she went home, Monica said that she went to a resort in her country with Denis. I mean, she went home, but not exactly as she told you." Alex shook his head.

"It is almost better this way, because on top of it I felt really guilty, like it was all my fault. I think she was still in love with him. Once she told me she loved to make love next to the fireplace, we had never been next to a fireplace."

"God! She said that." I real look of pain. "You know he has a really nice country house, he was planning to go there when things got bad with Monica." She closed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

"I know, I know. Hey, what are you going to do? I was pretty happy but she was obviously in love with him, bad luck, and those types of comments she made, there were other ones too. She was a bit crass. At first that can be ok, even funny, but eventually, it can get ugly." Carolina wrapped her arm inside his, elbow to elbow, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm gonna miss you, more than you know." Her voice very sweet. The drugs gave her a glow, she glowed with the street lights, with a darker than normal backdrop. He squinted, then opened his eyes wide, tasting her lips without tasting them, feeling her neck with his hand on her arm. Their eyes met, then, in unison, turned away, the other group had turned the corner. Alex moved his hand up her arm, the fleshy top of her arm that had always fascinated him, then he moved his lips toward hers. She more than cooperated. They both began to explore what had fascinated them both for a long time, on a daily basis. How many times had they both wondered what it would feel like to explore each other this way? Both suspecting the other felt the same, but neither sure. Now each part of the others body was the fulfillment of long held desires. They moved their hands across each others bodies, searching for this part and that one, the lips and tongues racing and exploring, now almost afraid to separate and face the other, to speak. As they separated Carolina observed him nervously, and Alex began to laugh. She slapped him on the shoulder smiling.

"Come on. They'll start to think we are up to something."

"But we are." He laughed loudly. They held each other walking down the hot street, hands intertwined, discovering the others touch.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I was never sure." She began.

"So have I. I could tell you were interested, but I never knew how much, I mean, we work together, you know what I mean." They embraced and kiss again, Alex feeling her with the extra intensity of the drugs, and she feeling that intensity. Longs smiles and kisses before opening the door.

"Be good."

"Hey, what are you two up to? Get them some drinks." Funny stories about the office, raucous laughter, quick glances. "Do you guys remember Carolinas most famous e-mail, the Director of Marketing of _____ asks for the buy order and she sends the one with the differences on it. Two million impressions, on ____, our cost, zero, margin, one-hundred percent. Remember, you went running into Alex's office. I saw the tears, the mascara dripping."

"She comes in and tells me that she sent him the wrong email, the one he wasn't supposed to see. They don't think we do differences at all. We finish telling Marc, his eyes and mouth are wide open. He is counting all the money he will lose, it's not anger, it's pure mourning for money. Before he says anything, they tell him he has an urgent call from the Director of Marketing. I went to the meeting with him, the guy made us wait two hours, then comes out and asks us if we wanted coffee. I put a big smile on and say thanks; he looks at me and says 'So you can see that I even offer coffee to thieves.' It was very ugly at first."

"How did he save the account?"

"Marc was brilliant, told him that _____ had said at beginning of the year that they were going to do so much, and they weren't going to even to half of that, and that we weren't an NGO, and we had to make some money on slim margins. He not only saved the account, they seemed to even get along at the end. But my poor Carolina." They embraced sideways, he pressed at her forearms, wanting her to know without giving anything away.

"I wanted to die, just disappear for ever from the office, never come back." The first of the small group began to go home, Alex and Carolina left together, saying they were going to share a cab.

"I know one last place, very after hours, you'll like it." They walked down a street in what had been the old quarter, a small light over a door appeared up a thin dark street. Alex knocked, then took a step back. Two long green couches against the walls, four tables in the center and a black curtain that covered a doorway in the back. Oriental music. They leaned back on the couch and enjoyed each other silently.

"What's back there?"

"People seriously doing drugs. Want to smoke a joint?"

"Sure, but do we have to go back there?"

"No, we can do that here."

"You are really into drugs, aren't you? That's what the girls say."

"I suppose. I try to keep it under control. Though I must admit I built up an enormous stash of booze and drugs at home when I thought things were going to get real bad. It's strange isn't it, how things have become so normal, so everyday. Only you leaving really reminds me of it, of what we thought was going happen. Are you sure you still want to leave?"

She raised her eyebrows and brought her lips in. "I don't know, we made the decision, and it is a too late really to go back. I don't know."

"It's a shame that this couldn't have happened between us before. I always wondered about us, we get along so well, and there is obviously attraction. With Matilde things we good, but we were very different, very. With you I feel like you know me, that I don't have to explain, you know what I mean." Carolina put her head on his shoulder and began to cry.

"I didn't want to get to this. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to go." She heaved, he tried to lift her head but she resisted, holding him, he could hear her. He brushed her hair back, took a sip of the whiskey, and then lit the joint.

"Come on Carolina, smoke a little, it will relax you." She shook her head. Then finally came up.

"Let me have a cigarette." She took a drink. "I don't love him, I don't. He is a wonderful person, interesting, good, handsome, but I'm just not in love."

"Don't go. Stay."

"I gave up my apartment, we're leaving tomorrow. I can't. I can't believe I'm here, with you like this, telling you this." She almost leapt at him, kissing him passionately, he moved his hands across her, she touched him. "Can we go in there?"

"Yeah." Through the dark curtain was another couch, and a small red lamp covered with a blue towel. A middle age woman was putting her kit back into her bag, she got up as Alex and Carolina sat on the couch, now alone. They immediately began to remove clothes, he felt himself in her. They held each other tight, hard. She turned over on him, slowing, finishing, keeping him in her. More drinks, the joint.

"Its ok, I can stay out tonight. He won't worry. He never does. He trusts me. Why didn't we let this happen before? There were so many chances."

Alex shook his head. "You know the first day I came to work at the office, I looked at you. And you looked back. I watched you get up to go to the coffee machine, you had on those black pants, with the thick belt, and the boots. I know your whole wardrobe. I knew then, but I never thought it would take so long. Remember that first Christmas party? I thought something was going to happen, we were in the back of Marc's car, I almost put my arm around you."

She laughed and shook her head. "I would get so jealous when you would talk about your dates, especially Matilde, I didn't like her at all, probably because you did." They kissed again. "I guess it will be interesting, living in the country. He seems to think this is just a momentary thing that things will get worse soon. Be careful."

"My mom has got the house already for Armageddon. Don't worry. And I have a few years supply of drugs. Why don't you stay? I know Marc will give you your job back. He was really sad you were leaving, you can stay with me till you find a place, or hey, maybe you will want to stay with me. We can make a go of it. Life is too short to give it all up like that and go to the middle of the country. I just can't see you doing the country wife, making the soap and feeding the chickens, doesn't he see that?"

"He sees a lot of things, he might be right. And I did want to get my graduate degree, I can study from there. There's something I want you to know. I haven't felt like this in ages, this good, this complete. The way you touch me, and kiss me. It's been a beautiful night, at least I'll have this to remember. Don't forget me either. But I can't stay, I can't do that to him. He's too good." They kissed. Another couple came into the room, sitting next to the light, preparing a syringe.

They walked down the large boulevard in the center of the town, past the famous hotel where the King had spoken. Hand in hand, laughing, almost skipping. The streets wet after being cleaned. No sign of dawn. She pulled him towards her, kissed him hard.

"Bye Alex, I love you." Then ran toward the middle of the boulevard, flagging down a taxi in the other direction, and never looking back.

CHAPTER 15

The back of the large black urban jeep stood open and tall, the back seats folded down. Maurice carefully configured boxes, suitcases, and chests to best utilize the space. His pace was brisk and his concentration evident. The wet grass still glistened from a midday summer rain, the orange light was a shade more orange, the summer beginning to give way. The lonely house stood halfway up the hill, a few projects away from full urban rustic. The whining of trucks reached up from the highway below. Maurice observed an easel, a crate of paint, a toolbox, and two boxes of books. He could visualize them in the jeep, but he pondered them, enjoying the moment.

"How are you getting along?" Carolina had appeared in the open door, placing her drink on the ledge of the terrace, lighting a cigarette in a house dress with a small hole above the breast, visibly not wearing a bra.

"You look great, right out of a Liz Taylor movie. How was your party?"

"Great, we really had a good time. I didn't get back till six in the morning. God, I have been sleeping for twelve hours." Maurice shook his head.

"Do you think you will quit smoking, or should we buy cigarettes to bring with us? I'm still smoking too, I don't know." He made gestures with his face, looking down, eyebrows up. "Let's buy some on the way up. How much are you smoking, more or less?"

She smiled, as if she saw something she liked but had forgotten. "I don't know, maybe ten a day."

"I'm doing the same, more or less. We can bring a three month supply, than see what happens; we'll do it on the way."

She continued to grin. "Much more to go?"

"No, another hour and I think I'll be done. You know Monica is coming over. I got some steaks, we can do one last barbecue out back. Do you mind getting the fire started, we can finish that last bag of charcoal." He approached rising up the steps. "Let me have a cigarette. Why don't you make me one of those? What is it? Some rum thing right, Monica loves them."

"You're wound up." She kissed him on the cheek. "I feel good about everything. I was a little unsure, but after saying goodbye to everyone, some how, I know it was the right thing to do. We'll be happy." Maurice inhaled deeply, expressionless. The smoke slowly ran out of his nostrils. The smile followed carefully; he put an arm around her and kissed her neck. She brushed his hair back, euphoric and abundant.

She plugged the hair dryer into the extension cord on the back deck of the house, the pine trees become darker, the coals shining bright and the flames shooting up in the hot hair of the dryer. Carolina was drunk again. She had never woken up to a drink, but she was going away, leaving her life. What had been a cross had suddenly become an adventure. She turned up the intensity of the dryer, moving it across the top of the coals, watching the flames leap. Lying on the wooden lounge chair, she could still smell him. It was the faint aroma of his cologne. She breathed in deeply. Two nights, two men. Another first. She felt intensely alive, vital, and attractive. She could imagine a new routine taking over while remembering the old one gone when the troubles began. "What if I am pregnant? I'll never know whose it is? Or will I? Will it show in some physical trait? Alex's handsome face, or tall thin frame? Maurice's deep-set blue eyes, powerful shoulders, the mole on his cheek. Alex's light beard. Maurice's dark hair. They couldn't be more different. Even the eyes, Alex's light, dancing. Maurice's heavy, intense. I'm drunk. I'm not pregnant. Though they say when you stop taking the pill you are very fertile, and yesterday I was very 'On'."

"How is that coming? You love to use the dryer, don't you? Don't forget to bring it with you. Monica will be here soon." She breathed in deeply and could smell the brisk aroma of the night.

"It'll be a pity to let it go, to wash it off." She thought as she walked up the stairs to the bathroom. Even the house made her feel good, not even her house, his house. The wooden stairs reminded her of this moment. "How strange, I'm reminiscing about the present."

*

Monica gazed up towards the trees, the fat of the steaks sizzling, her brothers face unfamiliar as the light from the coals danced on him. "Have you talked to dad's foreman up there?"

"Yeah, he's got everything ready. His wife has cleaned the house. He put up a windmill and solar panels when we thought things would get bad, and we have five barrels of heating oil just in case and firewood. He even got us some chickens and hens. Dad told me he was a going to leave at some point, but that he promised to have everything ready before he left. See if you can come up once we are settled in, bring Denis, it would be fun for us to all be up there again."

Carolina walked out on the deck, wearing an elastic skirt and a tee shirt and smelling of bathroom paraphernalia. She kissed Monica. "I don't know about bringing him up there. Have you ever met him, Monica?"

"I met him once, he, well, he used to date a girl who was dating someone from the office. Matilde." Monica nodded. Maurice turned the steaks.

Carolina listened to the clinking of the ice in Monica's glass. "I think he's still seeing her, I'm almost sure." She looked ahead. Monica sipped her fresh drink, now conscious of her speaking, not wanting to give in that she was drunk.

"Alex, the guy from work thinks the same, he told me last night that they had broken up and that he was pretty sure that they were still seeing each other. I told him what you told me, that she went to her country with him. I hope you don't mind but he is a good friend and I could tell he was down. I think he got drunk and they fought, he was feeling guilty. Like it was all his fault."

"Not at all. I enjoy going out with Denis once in awhile, but we both know it's not serious. I actually slept with a writer the other night. I went to a book presentation, and this guy next to me, really handsome, starting making fun of the author. She was pretty awfully dressed, and she was using that morning TV type language to talk about the book. I don't know why I even went, I think it was because I saw her picture in the newspaper, and she seemed interesting, the book was about urban life and new energy policies, but a very light version. Anyway, this guy, in his forties, is really funny. We both start laughing, people start looking at us. He nudges me and we leave, have a drink, have dinner, have more drinks, than wind up sleeping together. I haven't spent a night like that in a long time. Thank god for nights like that, they let me see how poor relationships like the one Denis and I have are."

"Will you see him again?" Asked Monica.

"Sure, he's married though. Lives on the coast, was in town updating a guidebook he had written a few years ago. It is the kind of relationship I'm looking for, honestly. Something that would be once or twice a month, a weekend here, a few days there. I feel so good about my work now. I'm really absorbed in it. The every day garbage of relationships is too much for me now. When the phone fun rings, and I see it's Denis, I almost dread talking to him. To see him, have dinner in a nice place, see a play. Great. But not the every day stuff. And if it was someone like Sean, who understands what the creative process means, who appreciates it, even better."

Carolina started to feel less sure of herself beside Monica. Her world didn't seem as marvelous as it had half an hour ago. She envied her self-assurance, her independence. "How does your family feel about you leaving? I'm sure they will miss you."

"We spent last weekend with them, they live on the South Coast. Since I don't get down that often, they are not too worried. They promised to come up for a weekend."

"Maurice told me you want to get your degree in Art History."

"I would love to, I studied advertising. But I would really love to do Art History. I'll have time to study, so it will be easy. I already matriculated for the fall, have my books and everything."

"You're really going to like it, I promise. It's a special place. The worst part is the drive, three days. What time are you going to leave tomorrow?"

"When we get up. I want to get a good nights sleep and start out rested. I was thinking about spending a few days in that town by the lake, remember the one. I made a reservation for three nights. Tomorrow where we end up, and the day after tomorrow a mini vacation. We can take a sail boat out, they have a spa. You'll like it. It was a going to be a surprise, but, well, now you no." Carolina's smile revealed a mix of joy and drink.

"What a catch. He's my brother, I know. But what a catch. You deserve him, you're a nice couple. I'm happy for you both, and I'm not one to get sentimental." They raised their glasses. "How did you get around the rationed gasoline, I mean, that trip is about four months worth?"

"I had to buy ration cards from everyone at the clinic, at the end I put up a notice for the patients, right on the door. One guy got me ten in exchange for prescriptions he wanted. It was when things were pretty bad. It wasn't easy. But I now have a year's supply. Don't worry. I can pick you up at the airport or the train station."

"How far is it?" Asked Carolina. Monica and Maurice smiled.

"To the train station, or the airport, they are in the same town, it's about, well?"

"Well?" Added Monica. "Well about a five hour drive."

"Five hour drive to the train station! And the nearest store, or town?"

"Well." Maurice's smile became nervous. "About and hour, a little more." He raised his eyebrows.

"Now I get all the questions about the cigarettes." Monica began to giggle. "Where are you taking me?"

CHAPTER 16

'11111'. The number that wouldn't go away. He had been looking at it since he saw the first newspaper over a shoulder on the train that morning. It was a headline. Almost all the websites he had been looking at that morning carried it on their home pages. Alex stirred his coffee leaning up against the beverage machine. "Hey guys, we are putting in ten each, we are going to buy as much as we can of '00000'." Said one of the programmers.

"I'm in." Alex passed him the bill, his name added to the list. No one was left out.

"Never happened, in any lottery in the world that there is a record of. That's what the paper said." Added Marc tentatively.

"The probability is exactly the same as any other number." Said another programmer.

"But if tomorrow we win, I'm cashing in my chips and gettin the fuck at out of this place. For sure." A web designer. A few giggles. Alex laughed. Marc went back to his office. "Hey Alex, want to go down stairs?" He quickly looked around him. "Smoke a firecracker, have a drink?" Alex nodded.

They walked silently towards the bar while smoking. "Have you heard from Carolina?"

"I got the email she sent everybody. Nothing else. Sounds like they are really out in the woods."

"I would love that. I'd have a big dog, take walks, smoke herb, plant a garden. I'm sick of the city." Said the programmer.

"I don't know. I like knowing I can go downstairs and buy cigarettes, or have a drink. I would probably go stir crazy. And what if the girl starts driving you up the wall? I'll stick to the city." The programmer nodded unconvinced.

*

Alex navigated through the main city station as he did every afternoon. The same path, the same smells, the same jolts. The old station had been a turn of the century iron structure. A giant metal barn where the tracks came to an end. Now the barn was a tropical greenhouse, with a small frog pond. Benches of elderly people absorbing the warm moist air along with a few drunks and drug addicts looking for shelter. The hustle of a major train station converted into geriatric peace. Palm trees stood where the old locomotives would power their way into the station, slow and cocky after hours crossing the country, the engineers high above the crowds.

Alex stabbed his way toward his track, below the old structure, where the trains now crossed the station stopping only momentarily on their trek across the city before heading out towards Federation capitals. His train was smaller, covering a local grid. 19:18. The 19:21. Home by eight. The grocery store. A prepared meal. A bottle of wine. Fabian's Journey. He remembered buying it. Matilde. He felt it in his chest as if two large slabs pushed against both sides of his ribs. It all reminded him of her. The train. The station. The rides home. The hope.

The double decker train slowed. The crowd swayed. The pushing. He looked. The faces bored him. He could read their lives, and he wasn't interested. Two loud beeps and the doors closed.

A sweet face. A romantic novel. She was a vulgar Carolina. Not quite as pretty. The curves a little wrong. The color of the lipstick. She looked up from the book. Their eyes crossed. "Honey, get the children ready. We are having lunch at mum's." No, no. They were all too apparent. An interesting one, brown leather pants, a little big. Forties. Severe. Maybe angry. No. A head case for sure.

An older woman next to him. Probably a functionary. Smelled of cigarettes. He longed for home. For quite. For the abyss of alcohol, pills and the game. The voice reminded him of her. The voice was her. He enjoyed the torture of it. An immigrant boy. The hand on the strap of the backpack. He had taken a shower not long ago. Guess he didn't work. Could be Matilde's brother. Had that big kind of mouth. He was strong. Tee-shirt from his football team. Number of an historic player. Where was he going? Not too many immigrants in Zephr Hills. He was definitely not going to Zephr Hills. He knew what stop it was from the amount of people getting off. He could sit. 19.45. Thirteen minutes.

There were empty seats now. He could see in the reflection of the glass door between the cars Matilde's brother. Why don't they ever sit down? They are different. 19.51. His building in the distance. His window. Small. Serious. A sledge hammer into the center of his back. His nose on fire against the seat in front of him. No breath. Blackness.

*

The smell of gunpowder. A cacophony of cellular phones ringing. Light. Far too much light. Sirens. A face. No expression. Mouth open. An arm. He began to shake. Both hands trembling. The smell. It reminded him of military service, on the firing range. "I'm alive." He moved both feet. The bubbling of his breath. A leg in brown leather. The pain from his forehead down to his nose. His hand could move. Toward his face, the nose. Something wrong. The breathing. The pain. The functionary. Facing him, mouth open. Eyes wide open. Hair back. Ashen.

A big rubber boot. "Can you move? We will help you down. Can you get up?" Careful. The arm on the ground, he pushed up. On his feet. Something in his eye. He touched. "Careful. Put your arm. Around me." The plastic of the jacket, the helmet. The big hole, sheered metal. A blanket. Another fireman. Someone motioning for an ambulance. Maybe for him. Yes. The closed space. The strange smells. A hand on his wrist. A door shutting. Movement. A siren. Always a siren.

"Does it hurt to breath?" He nodded. There was no desire to speak. He didn't know if he could. It felt like something foreign. A skill he had never pondered. He moved is mouth. Something pressing against his arm, gripping the forearm. Now loose. "You will be ok. Just sit tight." A curve. She held his shoulder. He looked straight up, saw her eyes behind him, she looked like a strange creature. He looked at the door. The siren. Always the siren.

*

He woke touching the different bandages and tubes on him. His eyes danced around the room. A nurse moved close smiling. He wasn't used to nurses being so friendly. It must have a been a bomb. The backpack. Matilde's brother. "Am I ok?"

"Nothing serious, some bruises, your eye is ok, inflamed, but ok, a broken nose, and it looks like a few bruised ribs. You were very lucky. A smaller woman, no uniform, and a notepad. That forced smile that always made him nervous.

"Do you know what happened?" He nodded. "It was a terrorist attack. Where you with anyone on the train?" He shook his head. "There were several attacks, all the same. You will be seeing it on the television. Twelve bombs on trains in the capital. All suicide bombers. Be careful watching the TV. Don't overdue it."

"I saw who it was, he had a backpack on, shirt, number thirteen. My wallet and phone?"

"They are here. The police will be in later, you can tell them what you saw." She opened the drawer.

"What time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty." He lifted his head, than put it back slowly.

"Please, my phone, in the contacts. Mom. Press the call button. Pass it to me." He was right. She had been worried. Very worried. When was he coming home. Time to leave the city. Soon. He made the necessary calls. They came to give him something to sleep. He wanted to tell them he needed a double dosage. No. He wanted to call Matilde. It was a way to break the ice. She would have to talk to him. He felt ashamed of thinking of it. Check the missed calls. No.

In the dark the smell came back to him. The gunpowder, the blood. The blankets. The faces he watched. They were no longer. The functionary. The smell of cigarette smoke. The open mouth. The ashen face. Just before falling asleep he remembered the '11111'.

CHAPTER 17

The mid-morning light took on a noticeable orange hue, and along with the accompanying chill left the crisp feel of the first days of autumns. She lowered the tray on the wooden table, the wood still shiny.

"Can you get me my cigarettes, they're in the kitchen." He sat under a potted pine tree, the Jacuzzi next to him bubbling, smelling of chlorine. He watched her move through the kitchen. The serious face, so hard to read but he knew he had her. He must have been one of the few. "What had that other guy done? He never had a chance. She's not for me. Not right. I need something else, more complete. She doesn't fit my style. She won't ask for money. Too proud. I'll give her some gold. No comparison to Monica. Monica is different. She is more like me. She fits me. She'll come. She saw what we've set up. She'll come."

Matilde dipped her toe into the water. "Not quite."

"Did you take the lobster tails out of the freezer? We can grill them with the filet mignons, quite a lunch. A real 'nouvea riche' lunch. Like those places outside town. Have you ever seen the advertisements? Lobster and filet mignon for 50 or so." She was expressionless. The very tops of the spirals of the gothic cathedral could be seen from the attic terrace. The lounge chair seemed big with him in it. Thin, tan. Only wearing boxer shorts. The phone rang. "Hey, how are you? Right. Uh hu. Without a doubt. There will be a market for them, but not now. I'm assuming the worst. And so is the market. If you want to play contrarian you could make a lot of money. Look what happened last time. But I'm not sure, not for the moment. If you want we can leave say twenty-five percent of it going long on those equities. Yeah. Ok. I'll put the order in on tomorrow. Please send me an email to confirm." He motioned for her to get in. He removed a cigarette from the pack. Playing with it. Finally bringing it to the flame. She let her long black curls rest outside the water, spread her arms out and closed her eyes. "We'll see. I mean, I don't know. For the moment I'm going to stay but I have everything ready, I've called back the people we had ready before. They're back. I'll let you know. Be careful."

He watched her. The voluptuous body, almost as if she wore it, or she was trapped in it. He put his legs in up to his knees, and smoked. Long, conscious drags.

"You know we lost one of our assistants in one of the bombings last week. Married, two kids, eight and ten. What good is that going to do?"

"I don't know. They killed some Alliance immigrants too, you know. The people on the subway won't stop looking at me, especially with the big bag. One guy, I opened it for him. He was staring. I told him, look, nothing in it. I can understand, but I live here too. People didn't get so paranoid after the water poisonings, and that was over ten thousand deaths. I don't really know if I should stay. Maybe I should leave. A lot of Alliance people are talking about it. They are paying our way back, plus giving us money. I guess you've seen the planes on television. A lot of people have decided to leave, changing their money while they still can. Why can't they just solve this? I don't want to go back home. I want to stay here, this is where I'm from. But I'm not going to have any choice, unless things change. I don't know."

"I feel like I have been fooled. They have taken advantage of us. I've heard that a lot people, people in high circles, obviously not me, knew that this was a dead cat bounce. They used it to squeeze all they could and better position themselves for what was coming. There was no agreement really, just a cease fire before the real fireworks. You can see it in the markets. The big money is all gone, eased out after the big bounce." He shook his head.

A rare moment of emotion on Matilde's face. The eyes showing concern. "What do you mean about the fireworks? I mean, what could happen?"

"Your country, why do you think they are paying people to come home? Because things are going to get very extreme, and no government wants to be accused of having killed its own citizens, or direct family of its own citizens. This way they are covering themselves, they can say they did all they could." She waded her way across the water, hands up, and grasping the pack of cigarettes. A slight shake in her hand as she lit it. He wrapped a hand around her waist. "Don't worry. Listen, I can help you out, but I would get on one of those planes. You have seen what things are coming to. Better to be with your family." She began to wipe tears from the sides of her eyes. He had never seen her cry, and he hadn't wanted to. She nervously lit the cigarette and slid back into the water, only her hand and head above the water line.

I can't believe he is saying this, give me a little money and send me home. That is the best he can do. That is what they think of us. He really couldn't care less. Some sex, some money and good bye. Her eyes squinted, the tears gone. "So, who are you going to the farm house with Jan, Yolanda and the painter, right?"

"If she'll go, she says she likes it here. She isn't afraid. I don't know. I'll try and convince her." A hot ball rose in her chest.

Why is isn't she here? Why am I here? Because she wasn't available. She must be busy. I'm leaving. She left the Jacuzzi and walked across the house to the bedroom. Denis lowered himself into the water, dunking his head.

Should I just let her go? Say goodbye and let her go. It would be easier. Poor thing. Having to leave everything behind. God knows what will happen there, without a job, without money. These people never have any money, it's all month to month. He got up and walked across the solid wood floors and into the bedroom. She had her bag out, ready to zip up. Above the two meter bed was one of Monica's paintings, one of the De Kooning series. If she only knew. Maybe she did.

"Listen, I'm sorry." He put his arms around her stomach. "I didn't mean to talk to you that way. But you were seeing someone else, so was I. I thought we could talk openly to each other. For me it's important, to be honest, that's what I have always loved about us, we can really tell each other what we think. I'm sorry. We're all really nervous. You know I love you."

I can't believe I said that. He thought. But then again, it is probably the last time I will ever see her, better this way. After a long moment her hands finally moved, slowly up his back and embracing him.

"Denis, just remember the situation I'm in, all right? Don't talk to me like I was a second class citizen."

"I'm sorry babe. I didn't mean to hurt you. Go back out into the Jacuzzi and I'll make you drink, it is almost one o'clock."

"Can I go out topless?"

"Sure." He made the drinks, content with himself. Sunday is a good day for goodbyes. Might as well enjoy the apartment, he wouldn't have it much longer. "I was smart to sell on the bounce. Good call on Jan's part. He understands a lot more about politics than I do. A third of its pre-crisis price but I got it in cash and converted it to gold. That was quick thinking." He put on the sound system, its three-meter speakers rising in the solemn and sparse living room. An ethnic music that Monica had introduced him to. The first sip of the exquisite rum rose immediately. He carried out the bag of charcoal.

Black rings appeared in the bag of charcoal as it slowly was enveloped in flame. A soft Sunday silence fell upon the terrace. Denis brought out a wooden cutting board with two lobster tails, two filet mignons, eight large green asparagus, two types of salt, two red wine glasses and a bottle of the finest Federation red wine. "Have you ever had one of these, a 1982, an excellent year. Only two left, it was a gift from my father." He laid the board on a table beside the barbeque and sat back in the Jacuzzi. An unusual silence spread across the horizon, not even a plane. The sky was a light blue, a few white clouds scattered about very high. "It will be ready to cook on in about half an hour, hungry."

"Very, I'm going to make another one of these, want one?"

"No, I'm ok for the moment." The steam mixed with the charcoal, washed back with Rum. He could feel himself getting excited. Her eyes caught him. She took a long sip from her drink, then placed it on the deck. His eyes stared at her breasts, he moved toward her. She moved him back suddenly, taking off her bikini bottom. She turned around, her hands on the deck, her sex practically in his face. But she could never get an orgasm that way, it only excited her, brought her near, but never over. She lifted his head up, then rocked her rear slowly, bracing herself. The rhythm moved slowly, consistently, her breathing excited him. "Please, don't stop, keep going." And he did. She began to shake, she was almost there. "Cum inside me." He slowed down. Then began again, bringing her back, once her breathing was where he know she was close, he let himself go, taking her over the top, she didn't want it to stop, she didn't want it to be the day again. "Leave it there a moment, just a moment." He rested on her back, caressing the skin that seemed too soft and tender.

Not only was the timing right, she felt it, the extra charge. At least I will have something. Maybe. They won't like it but they will have to put up with it. They sat at the table, the plates empty, sunglasses on.

"I've got ten thousand for you, I'll only give it to you if you promise to get out of the country. Half is in gold. Keep that for when you get home, could be worth a lot more than it is now." She was expressionless.

She wanted to ask him a lot of things, many things. But she wouldn't. She remembered Alex's call from the hospital. How pathetic she thought. She wouldn't have done that, keep her pride. Take the money. Maybe I should have stayed with him, but no. She wanted this or nothing. That feeling of being loved was like being constantly around a disagreeable sound. Better alone. He is suffering, so am I. Nothing I can do about it.

"I left it on the bed next to your bag, in a leather pouch." She nodded. "Just get out as soon as you can. Don't linger. Before you know it you won't be able to leave. Please help Sophy out with that too. Tell her I wish her the best."

"Do you hear that?"

"What?" They both jumped up and leaned over the railing looking down the large boulevard. Matilde jumped back, but Denis couldn't move. She pulled on his arm. The large jetliner tilted strangely as it passed. Denis saw a female face in a window. She saw him. The aircraft rose a bit as it passed them. Over a building then the explosion. Two fighters raced one behind the other down the boulevard.

"My God! They hit the cathedral." Their eyes met. She was silent. "No use going down there, it will be a mess, total chaos. Get your stuff. I'd get out as soon as possible, don't wait. After this there will be a lot of hate. Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No, I'd rather see if I can help out."

"Don't, they won't want to see you, and with the bag. Let me drive you home."

"No, really, let me say goodbye here. I'll be ok. I'll get my stuff." When she returned he was silent, looking directly across to the empty terrace to the building across the boulevard.

"Did you see the anybody, I mean, in the plane?" She asked. He nodded.

"So did I." She felt stronger. "I'm leaving. I hope you will be all right. Thanks for the money." They parted at his door.

"Be careful."

CHAPTER 18

Alex was roaming back home from the train station lost in a stupor of heartbreak and physical weakness. She wouldn't leave him and his body felt strange, light, still disconnected since incurring his injuries. "I knew this would happen, I knew it." He thought. "I knew one day it would all collapse." He felt like he had known all along that his world was going to implode, and as much as he tried to deny it she was the weight pulling him down. He just wanted to get back to his apartment and do what he did every night. Sit in the same chair in silence, smoking and drinking. No music, no TV. Just dark silence.

A loud crack, it sounded like a firecracker. He ran to the side of a building, not knowing were to turn. A group of soldiers moved quickly across the green area in front of him, almost as if they were coming at him. One motioned to him to go back. He ran behind the building into alleyways that lead to a row of warehouses. More gunfire. Three commandos, their faces painted black moved across the alley. Something let him know they were not Feds. He watched them, frozen. Waiting for them to turn their guns on him, but they kept running forward, down the alley he had just left. Alex sped down a row of loading docks, lost. Not knowing what to do.

A tall attractive woman, with dark hair and dressed completely in pink walked ahead of him. Her pink pants were stained with the muddy water from the alley. She had an old fashioned square pink suitcase, and a pink ribbon in her hair. Alex walked toward her, she hurried away from him. She approached an office and spoke into the microphone. "Can you let me in? I'm a friend of Stani's." The gate opened as soon as Alex got to it. She closed it and continued in.

"Hey, hey, let me in." But she didn't turn back. Alex began to run down the alley, completely lost. It was dusk, and he didn't know whether to try and get back to the apartment or wait in the alley for help. He decided to walk across a side alley to see if he could see something. Maybe he could walk to the other end of the warehouse area and get into his house. More gunfire. "Maybe they got them. What were they doing in Zephr Hills?"

A large man in a black overcoat and boots got out of a car and walked up the same alley as Alex. He moved close to him, when finally at his side he kept the same pace as Alex. Alex was terrified. He didn't want to ask him anything. He couldn't look at him. They walked. "What is he going to do to me? How is he going to kill me?" He had no strength or will to fight. He just wanted to have it over with. They walked and walked. He could hear the boots. Terrified, Alex turned his head and looked at the face. It was pock marked, with a large scare across the cheek, and a growth on the forehead. The man turned his head and opened his eyes wide, then smiled. The teeth were rotten. Alex began to run, full speed, reaching the fence that separated the warehouse area from the residential buildings. He grabbed the wire meshing and pulled himself up, jumping off the top of it and landing hard on the ground. When he looked back the man was gone, and he could see his building a hundred meters ahead.

He entered from the loading ramp. More gunfire. But now it was reduced to isolated shots, long silences between them. He thought about not taking the elevator but he was too exhausted to climb the stairs to the top floor. Once the elevator began to race upward he felt comforted. "I just need to get into my apartment, then everything will be ok." Once inside he turned on the television, opened a beer and began chain smoking as he listened to the news. The startled newscaster reflected the fear that he had felt.

"Enemy commandos have infiltrated several suburban areas of the capital. Authorities have issued a curfew from 4:00PM until further notice. Do not, I repeat, do not leave your homes. If you are traveling find immediate shelter and remain there till further notice. There are snipers acting in several areas. We go now to Army Headquarters for a briefing."

A general, with the Defense Minister by his side looked at the camera. "OK. Ready to go?" He nodded, giving a serious face to the camera. "Alliance commandos have infiltrated the capital. Their snipers have caused both civilian and military casualties. At the moment the count is over two hundred civilian dead, and over fifty military casualties. They have focused on suburban areas, as well as Naval, and Army headquarters. We are engaging them in Zephr Hills, Long Plains, Old Town and at several military installations. We believe they have been working out of safe houses and have been in the capital for some time. I have just received notice that Zephr Hills and Old Town are now under Federation control. Fighting is still fierce in Long Plains. We believe that all military bases have been cleared. Enemy casualties far exceed five hundred. There is still a threat of snipers and we believe many of the commandos have returned to safe houses, possibly in the suburban areas they attacked. Please stay in your homes and report any strange activity to the number below. We believe this to be an isolated attack by terrorist groups and not part of a coordinated attack by the Alliance."

The Defense Minister moved to the microphone. "The Alliance has denounced these attacks by terrorist groups. I have spoken to my counterpart in the Alliance and he has assured me they will do everything in their power to help. I want to make this clear. This is an isolated attack by terrorist groups. We are not at war with the Alliance."

Alex's hands shook, the drink and cigarette vibrating. Dashiel dragged his legs along to the bowl of food. The cat had been sick for a week and was emitting a putrid smell across the house. Alex was almost used to it, so much so that he didn't realize it until he saw the animal crawling across the floor. The rancid odor, almost sweet, overtook him. It wasn't excrement, it was something else. He approached the cat and touched his side, the cat violently sneered at him. He couldn't stand it. He knew he had to kill it. It was suffering. It could barely walk.

He thought about throwing it out the window, but that would be too cruel, too much suffering. "Strangle it. I'll strangle it." He searched for a bag and finally found an old backpack. Dashiel was crawling down the hall. He opened the back pack and put him in rear first to another sad cry. He put a towel around him leaving only his neck and head uncovered. With his left hand he held the front paws down, and with another towel grabbed the neck. He looked in to the cat's eyes, the long slant of the pupil. He was crying. Without thinking he began to squeeze the throat, not knowing how long it would take. The very ill animal fought with all its strength, looking him in the eyes. Alex imagined what the poor thing was thinking. "How could you do this to me? You, who has always taken care of me. Why are you doing this? Help me."

Suddenly the animal lost its strength, the eyes lost their grip and he looked dead. Alex held the grip another minute just to make sure. A small black sphere flew out of the room. "My god, he had a soul." He now looked like nothing more than a dead cat. He put the backpack into a garbage bag and tied a stiff not, than that bag into another bag and another tight not. He couldn't keep the bag in the apartment. He felt like it would haunt him. He felt like an assassin. Down the elevator. No one in the large room that held the dumpsters. He placed the bag in it. A door was open to a dark room. "Could there be terrorists in there?" He felt like running, but he had to know. Like a child who has to open the closet door just to make sure.

It was a large room, ten square meters or more. He turned the light on. No one. "What was it for?" It somehow comforted him. So smooth, not painted. All concrete. Nothing but concrete. He stood in the center and looked up and down, then walked over to the wall opposite the door, leaning against it. Thinking of the emptiness of the room, its total lack of significance. Another sphere. This one was light colored, really two spheres, one inside the other, not more than ten centimeters in diameter. It floated up and down then remained steady in the middle of the room. The previous peaceful feeling suddenly became pure terror. He knew what floated was pure evil, the most evil thing he had ever encountered. He ran as fast as he could, not wanting to look back. He ran past the elevator and up the stairs. More gunfire. He kept running. At the eighth floor he stopped, searching for the sphere, afraid it had followed him up. From there he called the elevator. He closed all the locks on the door, shut the shades and waited, waited until the gunfire stopped. He wished he had had a gun. His only weapon was vice.

The phone rang. "Mom, yes. I'm fine. Once we get the all clear I'll be coming home. I'm packing right now. I think your right. I think this may be the end."

CHAPTER 19

The patio was scattered with paint cans and paintbrushes, one large laurel tree rising above the high walls. In one corner was a small bush that hadn't been cut back in years, beside it a fountain with a nude woman, the water flowing out of her breast. Monica wore a torn warm up top over the stained old jeans she always painted in. On the large easel was a two-meter high by one and a half meter wide canvas. She smoked as she looked at it, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the chill. She backed up. Crack. The gunfire in the distance. She didn't even budge. Her eyes squinting. She roamed the garden looking for a can, checking the consistency of the paint, then bringing it over to the cotton canvas. Moving with fast, definitive strokes. Mortar fire. She continued using a spatula.

Jeeps sped by, the walls where too high for her to see them. Only noise. For her it was all noise. The crack of gunfire, intense. She stopped. Finally giving the battle her full attention. But it seemed that just as she focused on it disappeared. Back to the painting. Long stares, another cigarette. She licked her teeth, made an expression with her mouth, then put the can of paint down. She sat down on a step with a can of turpentine cleaning the brushes, slowly, methodically, until each one was brisling clean. She collected the cans and with a rag and a hammer closed them. Silence, silence at dusk. She opened a bottle of wine and drank as she stared at the painting. Strong bright colors, violent stokes. She realized what she had been painting. "How could I have painted anything else? Always the same feeling once it is really done."

She heard a car approach and stop. She knew who it was. "God, he's in love with me. I can't believe he's still here. It's only because I never gave in. If I had only known that other time. That's the trick." She felt so high, so alive, and so free that she dreaded seeing him. Knowing he wouldn't understand. Knowing he would only want to take and have and control. "I must be kind." She thought. "He is in love." She opened the gate and saw the big black van with two men in the back and a driver. He was getting out of the passenger seat.

He ran to her quickly. "We have got to get out of here! I have a helicopter waiting. Let's go."

"I'm sorry Denis. I'm staying." Her expression was calm and compassionate.

"I can't let you stay. There is fighting going on all around here. We have no time. The airport is still open, but we don't know for how long. They are letting the immigrants leave. That's why it hasn't been attacked. We have got to get out of here. You won't survive here. Come on." Machine gun fire, followed by the snapping of rifle fire, more machine gun fire.

"I'm sorry. But I can't. I'm staying. This is my home and I want to stay. This is my place. I can't go with you." She leaned toward him with her arms open.

"No, you can't do this. I need you. I love you." She embraced him.

"Go. Go while you still can." She looked toward the vehicle, the three men were watching her. "Go."

"I love you. Please. I need you. Don't do this to me. You can't let yourself be killed like this."

"Go. I'll be ok. But I can't go with you." He took two steps backward. A blank expression on his face. She waved shyly. He got into the front seat and watched her as they sped away. She watched it race down the street, then make a hard turn. A sudden sense of fear. Of death. She knew she would die. Alone. But she knew she didn't want to be in that car with him. She really didn't even know him. She closed the old wooden door, and locked it.

She lit a fire. The electricity had been out all day. Sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa. She watched the flames. She was exhausted. When she closed her eyes all she saw was color. Streaks and flashes. She turned on a small portable radio. She had told herself she wouldn't, but the exhaustion weakened her resolve. "Sporadic fighting is going on around the city but military officials insist the worst is over. The airport remains open and all Alliance citizens are free to return to their respective countries. There are continuous flights. There is no need to reserve. The flights are free, all that is needed is a valid Alliance passport. Only two bags weighing no more than a total of fifty kilos are allowed. All residents of the capital are advised to stay indoors. Military officials believe the all clear may be given as soon as tomorrow."

No more gunfire. She could sleep. She woke up refreshed to a cool and sunny day. No noise. She decided not to listen to the news. All night she had dreamt of colors, as if she were painting in her sleep. Testing the forms, they moved magically. A big coffee. She put on a favorite jazz CD and opened all the windows. Silence. "Maybe it's really over." Almost no traffic. "I have all I need." I can last another three days. A fresh new canvas, the forms followed right out of the images from her sleep. They came out so easy. She had never felt this confident. The time flew.

She felt what she had done was far superior to the painting finished the day before. "Just let them stop killing. How can they kill when everything is so right? Why such hate?" She thought about Denis and his fortress. She was glad she had stayed. Sounds in the distance. More fighting. It had been this way for days. Not to worry. The painting had suddenly become a puzzle. So well conceived but it must be resolved. She felt the fear of losing the inspiration of the morning. She stopped and observed. She ate lunch looking at the painting. Jeeps began to race by. More fighting. Aircraft swooping down.

"Let them fight. I can't do anything." She returned to the painting. Not seeing it. She closed her eyes. An explosion close by. The walls shook. The first time it had gotten so close. Then she saw it. She put down the apple and picked up a brush. "Yes, that's it." It flowed out her. The rattle of gun fire was much closer now. She closed her eyes and saw the next color. She raced for it. She had it. That was it. Voices. More gunfire. Their language. More voices, footsteps. She kept painting. She had it. They were at the gate. "Let them go by. They will leave me alone. I have nothing to do with this."

Pushing at the old door. It held. Shots. A kick. It flew back. They looked at her and waived to each other speaking in their language. She stared at them as they came. Eight of them. One looked like an officer. "I thought they were guerrillas." She thought.

"What do you want?" The officer approached her speaking aggressively in his language motioning with his hand. She shrugged her shoulders. "This is my house. I don't want any problems. I'm peaceful. I'm a painter." She pointed to the painting. He lifted the butt of his rifle and crashed it through the canvas. Her head turned, staring in disbelief. A movement. She turned her head back only to catch the slightest glimpse of the butt coming toward her face. She felt like her face was on fire. A kick. Their language. She couldn't see. Everything was white. She felt her shoes come off. Someone pulling at her jeans. They pulled her and lifted her. Their voices high. She smelled the breath of one of them. He was inside her. She could feel his waist. One eye began to see. The face.

It went on for hours. They had brought her into the house. Taking turns. She tried to concentrate on the gunfire, on the sounds of war. They finally left her in the bedroom alone and closed the door. She threw up over the side of the bed. "He was right. I should have gone. I'll live. They'll leave and I'll live. Maybe they're leaving now." She fainted into sleep.

They ransacked the house, making it their refuge for the night. They took everything they could that was of value and portable. The officer came in again. He dragged her to the shower. Made her wash herself. She watched him look at her. The scrubby beard, the dark eyes. "Was he married? Did he have children? What makes him such an animal?"

"Are you religious?" He screamed at her in his language but she continued. "Are you religious? Don't you know this is wrong? You can stay here as long as you want. Take what you want. But you know this is wrong? Would you want someone to do this to your sister? You daughter? Your." He slammed his fist into her. She was thrown against the tile of the shower and fell. He continued to scream. She slowly got up and continued to wash herself. He threw her a towel.

"OK. I'll do what you want. But please don't kill me." He smiled. When he finished he lay on the bed and smoked. She signaled to him to give her a cigarette. "Make him feel something for me." She thought. She smoked as calmly as she could. There were voices and a knock on the door. She looked at him and shook her head. He sneered and got up, opened the door and yelling. Then he returned. He spoke to her in his language now, but calmly. She tried to act like she was listening, that his words were reaching her. "What is he saying?" After a pause she put her hand on his chest.

"Please, please. Don't kill me." He looked on expressionless. He got up and put his clothes on and left the room. There were voices, arguing and finally a minor scuffle. More voices. Another one came in. And it started again for hours. They finally left her alone. She had no idea what time it was, if it was day or night. She heard a radio, more arguing and then laughter.

"Let them leave. God, let them leave." One came in and grabbed her by the arm lifting her up, pulling her nude out of the bedroom. Another one had a piece of nylon rope that she used to secure boxes of paintings when she shipped them to the gallery. She thought about the gallery, her last exhibit, the opening, how much fun she had. She stared at the officer who was sitting and smoking. He looked away. They took her out to the patio. Two of them moved her into the fountain, pushing her up against the nude statue, her head between the breasts. It was early morning, much earlier than she had imagined. The one with the rope began to tie her up to the statue, around her waist, and between her legs and over the shoulders of the statue. Finally tying the knot so as she could not mover her trunk. "I can get out of this. Someone will come by, someone will untie me. Just let them leave. She focused on the morning. Ignoring them with her eyes.

The officer came out, still smoking. He began to yell. The other responded reluctantly. One went into the house and returned with the sleeve of the warm up top she used to paint. He wound it around her eyes. "My god, they are going to kill me. Let it be quick."

One of the soldiers stabbed her in the breast. The blood mixed with the still water of the fountain. Her body shook. She screamed. There was laughter. The officer approached her with his pistol out. He said something to her in his language then shot her in the temple. The soldiers collected their things and left the house.

CHAPTER 20

The snow began to fall just as he turned off the main road and began the slow ascent on the bumpy path to the house. The path wound through tall trees for two kilometers before reaching the cleared area where the house stood. Maurice opened the trunk and began to unload crates of tomatoes. A still clumsy black Labrador puppy ran out of the house barking. Maurice ruffled his ears and let him lick his face. Carolina walked out on the porch with a smile.

"Where did you get those?" A slight bulge in her belly.

"The woman who is pregnant. Her husband gave me the last tomatoes he had from the greenhouse. You know all those empty jars in the dispensary; we can use them to conserve the tomatoes for the winter. Look, two crates of peppers. He told me we should put a heater in the covered part of the corral for the chickens. I told him to bring her here when she goes into labor. They're a little nervous, their first one. The word has gotten out that I'm here again, and a doctor. We may be getting a few visits."

Carolina raised her eyebrows. "At least I'll be able to see what I'm in for. Did you hear the news? There're guerillas in the capital."

"When did it start?"

"Yesterday." He shook his head.

"Twelve hours and no radio station."

"What do you expect? Fifteen hundred miles from the nearest city. You sure do know how to find refuge." She smiled and gave him a kiss.

"I got a full tank at the last gas station. Here are the books you wanted, a few for me, twenty cartons of cigarettes, some whiskey, and two lambs, ready to freeze. We will be fine through the winter. That may have been the last trip in a while if this snow keeps falling. And I got some food for you too." Rubbing the side of the excited puppy.

"We'll be fine. Let me bring the meat in."

*

Maurice picked at the branch with a hatchet. Putting the twigs in one pile, then cutting the branch in three pieces and putting it in another pile. Finally, with the bare trunk, he pulled the chain and it began to rev. Charlie jumped and ran back. He cut the trunk into thirty centimeter pieces then loaded it all onto a wheel barrel and brought it to the shed. He had never been so happy, and he knew she had adapted. His great fear was that she would become depressed and lonely. But she had been excited from the day they left, and kept growing and learning. He felt she was his wife even though they had never gone through the formalities. After unloading the firewood he walked behind the house to the corral, which had a small room with a large fireplace, which had once been part of the quarters for the farm workers. A large table was filled with conserving jars. Carolina was closing the last of them. There was a big black cauldron on a metal square in the fireplace.

"Start filling it with water, then put the jars in. How long did he say we have to boil them?" Charlie came in, shaking the moisture of himself.

"Half an hour." Maurice filled a five-liter water jug and poured it into the cauldron, and repeated it till it was half full. She began to put the jars in the cauldron, carefully so they didn't hit the bottom hard. A chicken without feathers lay on a large serving plate. "You did it by yourself? You're really becoming a country girl." He opened a bottle of wine while she carefully placed the wood under the cauldron and lit the fire.

After a long comfortable silence she told him they could cook the chicken on the coals of the fire once they had finished. He cleaned the hatchet on his pants then put the chicken on a piece of wood, cutting it into pieces, pushing Charlie back a few times. The warmth of the fire finally reaching them, they took off their jackets and sweaters and relaxed, the only light coming from the fire. "I'm worried about the electricity. What are we going to do if we lose power?"

"I asked the man who gave us the tomatoes. He said to let the chickens come in here. We can use this as a room to cook and eat in. Will let them roam around in here. We can move the freezers to that room over there, and fill them with ice, there will be plenty, and we shouldn't have any problems. We have eight barrels of oil for the generator. We will just have to figure out how much to use a day and ration it to get through the winter. We can use the bathroom down here to take baths, we can heat the water in the cauldron."

"So we will be taking baths with the chickens?"

"I'm afraid so. You're not due till the spring; so don't worry about the baby. He'll stay warm. We have lots of clothes for him. He'll be all right."

"When you were gone I was thinking. How did you know? I mean. How did you know that things weren't going to work out?"

"I didn't. I just knew that I wanted to do this, that there was something in me that needed to get away. As much as I enjoyed working in the clinic there was something that kept gnawing at me. In my life and in what was around me. I love you very much. And I knew that if you were willing, this would be a much saner life. Something was wrong. Not just in me, but in everything. I don't think I was the only one who felt it. I know Monica feels the same way. But since she can lose herself in her work, she puts it all in her paintings, it went right through her. But I felt that something was wrong. It was like looking at a patient and knowing he was going to die. That happens sometimes, really. You can just tell. Even if they don't have major symptoms, you keep looking because you know something is wrong."

"But how did you know I was going to be all right?"

"I guess I really didn't. But you're a calm, peaceful person. I had a feeling you would get into the rhythm of things here. I was worried about the loneliness. But we will have visits. A doctor in these parts is never alone. You not too lonely? You weren't afraid when I left?" She smiled.

"No, after we practiced the other day with the shotgun, I feel fine. Sometimes at night the noises made me nervous but Charley kept me good company." She petted him. "You know we never had animals. I never realized how close you could get to them. It's as if they were you friends." She walked to the fire and put on more branches and another log. She filled their glasses. "What do you think is going to happen? Is there going to be an all out war or will this continue with these terrorist attacks?"

"I don't know. It's strange that so many Alliance immigrants are returning. As if they knew something was going to happen. And we are letting them go. Who knows? But you get the feeling things are only going to get worse, and that the Alliance is behind the terrorists even if they condemn them. I'm really worried about Monica. I hope she went away with Denis. At least she'd be safe." Carolina looked on.

"I'm sure she did."

"I tried to call the house but the line was down. You know the cell phones aren't working."

"The terrorists took care of that a few days ago."

"I copied your emails on a CD. I didn't get one from her. The last time I talked to her she said she was still thinking about going with him, but she wasn't sure."

"I'm sure once the guerrillas entered the city she would have left with him. Don't worry. She's sensible."

"But she didn't like him. He wasn't for her. That's what worries me. If she isn't comfortable with him I can't see her going." He shook his head.

"She'll be ok. Trust me. But what's this going to get the Alliance. All these attacks. What is the point?"

"I suppose they want to get their people out, and they are using the terrorists as a negotiating tool. Let their people out or else. They have shown what they are capable of and I think our leaders are scared. Looking for some kind of treaty, or letting it go on for a while to convince us that there is no other option than total war. Who knows? But I wouldn't want to be there. I just wish Monica had come with us."

"Maybe we can get her to come up later. When things calm down." Carolina put the pieces of chicken in a bowl and mixed them with oil and seasonings. She then brushed the wood away from the fire and made a mound of hot coals. She placed the chicken in a metal rack that folded on itself and put it over the coals. The fat from the chicken spat on the hot coals. Carolina suddenly felt scared, alone. She petted the dog. Then she began to cry. Maurice held her and they both cried. "My god. What have we done? Why is this happening? I just want it to be ok. I want to know that we can go back to the world someday and see everyone. My family. My mother."

"I'm sure she's all right. Her village is far from all the fighting. There was an email from her." But the sadness overcame their sweet isolation, and the tears were needed, for them and for everyone.

The thin layer of snow crunched under his boots, the shotgun heavy on his arm. He walked up the hill, breathing heavily as he reached the top where he admired the view and watched Charlie stumble down the hill towards the creek. Last nights sadness seemed far away and he felt that it would continue to leave him the farther he got into the wild. He thought about the hunting, how he had hunted as a boy with his father and his uncle and how much more he enjoyed it now. No pressure, no fear and a real need to capture fresh meat.

Charlie's ears stood up while he sat on his front paws and looked intently. The rabbit shot out hopping across the snow. Up went the gun, the lead, he fired. The rabbit rolled while Charlie ran from the sound. Maurice wondered if he would ever be able to gun train him. No need, he was a good dog. They continued up the next hill, high above him he caught site of another rabbit. The rabbit looked back at him as if he knew he was at a safe distance. As Maurice closed in the rabbit ran, Charlie stammering after him. They continued up the hill, but the rabbit somehow knew his distance, and whenever Maurice got close enough to take a shot, off went the rabbit. They finally rested at the top of the second hill, Charlie panting.

On the way back down toward the creek he got one more, and with it the feeling of having had a good morning. "I need to get back. See how she is."

*

In the study, surrounded by books shelves, she opened the files on the computer. Small flames in need of more wood gave their last gasps in the fireplace.

Hi Lina,

Hope you are liking it up their on "Little house on the Prairie". How is milking the cows going? Things here have gotten completely crazy. Marc left. There are only a couple of us left. I'm pretty much recovered from the bombing. Still a lot of aches and pains and some nightmares, but you know me, I have medicines for everything. We spend all day playing poker. He gave us all some extra money. I'm thinking about going home in the next couple of days. I guess this is it for a while, hopefully things will blow over. I miss you a lot. I had a great time at your party. Maybe after this is all over I can make a fresh start. Marc said he would re-open once things calm down, if they do, but for some reason I don't think they will. My mom's address and phone number are below. Keep in touch and God bless.

Alex.

She had the intense urge to respond and the fact that she couldn't gave her a terrible sense of anxiety. At least her mother was safe in the village. She heard a car. She was terrified. She ran for the shotgun. Where was he? She returned to the window, holding the gun awkwardly. The rugged, beat up truck stopped. A woman got out and walked around the car to the passenger door. She put the man's arm around her shoulder and began to hop forward. She embarrassingly put the gun away. A guest, a woman. She put another log on the fire and hurried down to help the man in.

"He fell off the roof, fixing a leak." The pain was severe on his face. They brought him into the study, putting the bad leg up on a footrest. Carolina made them coffee.

"He went hunting. He should be back any moment now."

"It is very nice to have him so close. I don't like to intrude like this but with the way things are, spending hours on the highway to get to the clinic is not very safe." With the fire built up they took off their coats.

"Are you from here originally?" Asked Carolina.

"Yes, we have a dairy farm. Mikel inherited it from his family. I'm from town. We met in grade school." She was strong and middle aged. Carolina noticed his hands. How different from Maurice's. "We used to play with Maurice and his sister when they came here in the summers. How is Monica?"

"We hope she is ok. We think she went away with her boyfriend to a house in the country. Maurice is very worried about her. He'll be back soon Mikel. He'll take care of you."

He grimaced silently. Ana continued. "It is nice to see the house inhabited. So many years nobody came up here. You'll like it. The winter is hard but the spring and summer are beautiful. Just remember that. Don't let the winter get to you." She heard the creaking of the foot steps. Charlie came in first.

"I got two! Ana, Mikel." After the greetings he slowly removed the thick sock and examined the ankle. He thought about how he needed an x-ray. But he quickly jumped to what he had, making sure his expression was positive, pressing on the bone, excruciating pain on Mikel's face. "Sorry, no x-rays. I've got to explore it. Just a little more and then I can give you something for the pain." He continued to move his hands up and down the bone, seeing the fracture in his mind. He would have to set it. There was plenty of plaster from his medical supplies to make the cast. "All right, if you want to leave us alone for a minute I need to set this. Want a drink Mikel?"

"Just do it."

*

Mikel was relaxing into the effects of the tranquilizers, the grimace left his face and he drank a glass of whiskey. "He will be all right. Don't worry. I'll come see him in a few days. It was a clean break. I've seen lots of these and he will be ok. But he must stay off it for a week, then with crutches. Ask around. I'm sure someone has some, or we can make them."

"I was scared. These times, to have a problem like this. Thank god. Should we put on the news?" Maurice turned on the radio and the four sat in the cozy study, the fire strong and warm.

"The last flights out to the Alliance countries will leave tomorrow. All Alliance citizens with a valid passport are urged to leave. While the government respects all legal residents the Interior Ministry is urging all Alliance citizens to return to their countries for their own safety. Terrorist guerillas are continuing to act in the capital and are believed to be occupying some homes. Citizens are encouraged to begin any emergency evacuation plans they may have, though travel can be dangerous all trains are running and most airports are open. Large traffic backups are being reported around the capital. Up to six hours to leave the area of the capital. Gasoline shortages are being reported and there are very long lines at filling stations, some up to ten hours. Citizens are encouraged to use public transportation."

Maurice approached the radio and Ana nodded in agreement. "Well." Began Maurice, "At least we have each other and this beautiful place." Mikel nodded. Carolina petted Charlie. They helped Mikel get into the vehicle in the dark night.

"Please, come over. What day is this?"

"Uhm, Tuesday."

"Come on Friday. I'll make lunch and invite some other neighbors. There are some very nice people. They'll be enchanted to meet such a nice couple. Bring Charlie too, there will be plenty of dogs."

CHAPTER 21

The phone rang. It was Tuesday morning. The last day. The large duffle bag was still unzipped. Maybe it was him. "Hello."

"Hi Matilde. How are you?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Just to see how your are doing. Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I'm going in a few minutes. I'm really busy."

"Are you sure? I mean, like I told you. If you want to come with me you can. We can get a train today. It's a nice house in the country. I think we will be fine. I really love you, and I would just like you to give me a chance. You're more from here than there. Please. Think about it."

"I have told you I don't know how many times that we are done. It's over. It was a fling, we had fun, and it's over. Forget me."

"But I can't. Don't you miss those times we had. I felt like we were really close. You don't miss them?"

"No. I really am in a hurry."

"Say something. Say something to help me get through this. Tell me something."

"You're a child. An egotistical child. I have to go."

"I love you. Be careful."

"Goodbye." She hung up. He wouldn't call. He had said goodbye and that was it. She decided not to dwell on it. She zipped up the last duffle bag. She put the money in her pockets, and kept the gold in her backpack. The lights were off in the apartment. Sophie's bags by the door. The shuttle bus to the airport left in an hour. She should wake Sophie up. She tapped on the door. No answer. She opened it. He was spread out on the bed, face down. She was curled up almost on the edge of the mattress. "Sophy. Wake up. It's time to go."

She jumped up. "What? Is something wrong? What time is it?"

"It's ten. The bus leaves in an hour. Take a shower." She moved, nude, in a trance toward the door. "What about him? Is he coming?"

"No, he's staying. Do you mind letting him stay here? He can't go back. Had some problems."

"It doesn't matter. But I gave a set of keys to the owner of the restaurant on the corner, you know the one. He said he's staying and that some of his waiters might want to use it. Just let him know he might have company."

Matilde sat in the large comfortable armchair listening to the water in the shower. Birds chirped. Why? Why has this happened? Whose fault was it? Would I have been happy with Denis if he had taken me? She looked at the roofs and antennas. Most everyone was gone. My whole world is gone. What am I going to do back there? The family. No job. No freedom. Maybe even war. The lights again. She remembered seeing the small lights again the night before. Hundreds of them. Just like she had seen the night at Alex's house. Alex was crazy. Thank god I found out early enough. If not I might have been stuck in some village with him. He's obsessed. I'm not like that with Denis. I kept my pride. The floor creaked. He walked out of the room with a towel on.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." She responded. "There is some coffee in the kitchen. Be careful with the gas bottles. We only have two left and I don't think it will be easy getting more."

"Thanks." He must have left she thought. I wonder if she went with him. Maybe she is doing to him what he did to me. Forget him. Get on the plane and forget him. A new life. I have been living too long with him. It will be a new life. Sophy was talking to the boy, saying goodbye.

"Thank god I packed yesterday. I can't think. Should we go?" Matilde closed the door without sentiment or ceremony. Down the steep stairs and onto the street. Many others were walking in the same direction to the square. There were long lines and airline officials handing out papers with numbers. Lots of talking. Confusion. A young official approached them smiling.

"Your passports please. The numbers were put into a small hand held device. A paper came out. You have the seven o'clock flight. Show this to the bus driver. Leave now. You must be at the airport five hours before. There is a lot of confusion. And today even more. We'll be on the same flight." Sophy smiled.

They spent hours in the square waiting for a bus. The vast majority of the people waiting were young. Boys played the bongos and smoked hashish, girls danced. Young children roamed and played while their parents sprawled out eating and smoking. Through the square many local people entered the church, many more than usual. There was an uncomfortable silence of looks as they passed through hundreds of people waiting in the hustle to get on the busses. Matilde looked at them closely, never having realized how different they were, how little she fit in. Finally the same official as before approached. "Let's go girls. I can get you on this one." Sohpy woke from a daze from having smoked with some of the boys. Matilde rose firmly, as if ready to take orders. He helped them with the bags. "I'll see you on the plane."

So this was it. This is what awaited her. The bus crawled through the narrow streets. Sophy gazed red eyed through the window, Matilde straight ahead as if into nowhere. She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as if she were on a bus going to the airport after a weekend getaway. As the bus approached the airport she felt less and less. Nothing reached her. No memories or sentiment. Her mind was pure silence and her heart was cold.

The airport was a secondary airport converted from an old air base used mainly for private jets, helicopters and economy airlines. More sprawl. More waiting. They sat on a grass area near the small terminal. Thousands of people sat on the tarmac. The loud speaker announcing the moment to embark. The large planes disembarking a few Federation families before the long line of passengers lined up to board. They put their luggage on the automatic ladder that lifted it up to a man in the luggage hold. It was like getting on a bus. The long periods of relative calm were occasionally broken by the sounds of the automatic weapon fire. The crowd would rise like a flock of sheep, all eyes toward the sounds. Everyone on their feet and a push toward the gate that led out to the tarmac. The attendants pushing them back, calling for calm. The same string of events, over and over. Cars passed occasionally in front of the terminal, racing across the airport to the private aviation center. Matilde laid on the grass with her head on the backpack facing the road, her jacket over her like a blanket, the sun falling behind the skyline. A group of military helicopters flew low overhead. She could see the face of one of the soldiers leaning over a weapon. She remembered the trip to the beach resort with Denis. Seeing the pilots of the fighters. Maybe somehow Alex knew. He had a strange way of knowing things, as if he read her mind. She felt guilty. But why should I feel guilty after what he did to me. No. She erased him.

Some children began to play on the access road. They seemed annoying to her. Am I pregnant? I'll find out. A large black van passed by. A face. It was him. He looked deadly serious, staring straight ahead. The van honked at the children. They lazily moved off the road. She lay absolutely motionless, not a budge. Will he turn his head? No. She had never seen him so expressionless. She watched the van move out of site. She had the sudden urge to call him. Maybe the painter hadn't gone with him. No. If he wanted her he would have called her. She looked straight up at the now dark clouds. More gunfire. Her flight was called on the loudspeaker. Sophy approached from the terminal. They picked their things up and moved to the long line that was forming beside the aircraft. Another line. They waited in silence.

CHAPTER 22

It was almost impossible to move on the train, as if it were the subway at rush hour. Bags, appliances, bicycles, vespinos and people, hoards of people. Only darkness out the window. Alex looked at the passengers, looked at their bags. He could never be sure after what happened. He was relieved to leave the apartment, desperate for a change of scenery, for the chatter of his mother and the memories that always removed him from the city. He had left much of his things in the apartment but he didn't care. He didn't want to remember the last few months. He was uncomfortable being on his feet so long. Worried voices.

"There is a rumor that things are going to happen now that the flights are stopping."

"They say they'll be roundups. I heard they already started."

"Tomorrow there is going to be an announcement. A declaration of war."

"I heard the draft is going to begin."

"A draft. Going back in the Army, that's all I need. They have the old address. I'll hide in the basement." He thought. Forty-five more minutes. The doors opened onto a frantic station. People fighting to move themselves and their things off the train. A little more space. He was able to sit on one of his bags. A cat in a carrying case. It reminded him of Dashiel. He looked away. A message on his telephone. He didn't recognize the number.

"You are ordered to report to Army reserve headquarters by 12:00 hours on Friday, ...." He wanted to let them all know but he caught himself just in time. "You never know." He thought. "There might be policeman or military people on the train, no reason to let them know I am skipping out. I won't say anything to mom. Better she doesn't know. Keep a low profile in town. Stay out of site." The message focused him. Removed the nervous anxiety and got him concentrating on what he would do. He could always say he was in the hospital, left the phone at home. Was unable to reach home due to the attacks. Wait for a notice to arrive at the house. He was officially a resident of the capital. Maybe they wouldn't notify the old address. He was still safe from them for a while.

*

"She can't stop buying. She has gone to a flee market in the village to see if there is anything more she can find. We will have food, drink and smoke for a lifetime. Tell me, how are you?" His aunt Maria stared fixedly at him. At first it always took him aback, till he got used to it again. He put his cold hands around the coffee and decided she would be the person to speak with.

"I have been seeing things, things I'm not sure are real. I don't know if it is because I'm upset or if they really exist." She offered her long stare.

"What kind of things?" The tone deepening.

"Things that didn't seem real, but were. This floating sphere, that seemed evil. I felt pure evil. And a man, dressed in black, following me, he didn't seem human." She nodded.

"You're not the only one. People are seeing things like that all the time, especially sensitive people. I'm part of a group, a spiritual group. We've heard many similar stories. Something is happening. Something much bigger than the wars and violence and politics.

"But I have been having a hard time lately. Maybe it is just that. I had a problem with a girl, and I have not been right for awhile. Couldn't it just be that?"

"No, it is just that the suffering has opened you up to it, allowed you to see it. Things are going to happen, but not everybody is ready for them. Your mother is very much worried about our physical survival, and that is important in a way. But she doesn't understand the rest. She isn't ready for it, and its better not to force it on her. It must come. As soon as I saw you I could tell you knew." She put her hand on his hair and he felt weak, his eyes became gloomy. "You'll be ok. Just have faith." The door opened.

"Hi honey. Did you sleep well?" She put a large sack of potatoes on the counter, then came behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "Any news on the television? There are all kinds of rumors around." They turned on the set and a text message below announced an advisory at two o'clock. Maria turned it off.

"We'll turn it on for the advisory."

Martha stared wide eyed, her cheeks fallen. "My god. What are they going to say?"

"Don't worry. If it were really important they would have interrupted the program. What are you going to make for lunch? If you cook it will take your mind of things. Your mother has been cooking a lot lately."

"Just in case anything happens, we will get awfully tired of canned foods. I just want to get all the cooking in I can before we may lose electricity. They have said that it is a real possibility." She chopped onions and carrots while Maria continued to stare at Alex, but now it didn't bother him, she lifted him up. "You can't imagine how worried we were about the attack on the train. Thank god you called me. You should have come home right then. You took a big chance waiting. I've heard they are drafting people, especially boys who have done their military service. You could have been picked up and put in the Army. If they call here I am going to tell them you are in the city and I lost contact with you. Don't even think about going back to them. Wait to see what happens." A crack of thunder. Martha approached the window. "What a storm. I could see those clouds coming from the market. We are in for a big storm, it is supposed to rain all day and into tomorrow." It was as if a dark screen had been pulled over the window or a light had been turned off in the kitchen.

"I'll be ok. I'll just keep a low profile." The chopping became sizzling, and the sizzling turned into boiling and they spent the dark, rainy morning drinking coffee and chatting about the village. Maria spoke little, mostly looking at Alex and smiling. Martha served the beef stew and they decided to open a bottle of wine.

"We sure have plenty of it. No reason to suffer more than we have to."

"Mom, it's almost two. Turn on the TV."

"We are going to the Presidential Palace for the two o'clock advisory. Please stay tuned." The president of the Federation stood behind a wooden podium with a somber and official background. "At 12:00PM today, in a closed session, the parliament has voted unanimously to in favor a Declaration of War against the Alliance of Free States. This difficult decision was made in light of evidence that the guerrilla incursion into the Federation and recent terrorist attacks were planned, organized and carried out by the Alliance. We will destroy our enemies wherever we find them. I ask you, in this dark moment, to believe in and support our armed forces, who are at this moment preparing for combat operations both in the Federation and beyond. They are the ones who will deliver us from this evil threat. We have the most lethal, well trained, motivated and sophisticated military that has ever existed, and we will annihilate this threat and return peace and prosperity to our society. There have been many victims and there will be more. But we will triumph and return peace and civility to a world gone mad. It is our solemn duty, our destiny. May god protect us." Martha held Alex's arm.

"Don't be frightened. It had to happen." Maria said as she stared blankly into the television.

The image cut to the Interior Minister. "We want to advise all citizens that there will be military actions being carried out in many cities, and that everyone should remain in their homes. Please reconsider leaving your homes for any reasons. Circulating in automobiles is not safe under any circumstances. Remain were you are. If you have a safe area it is recommended you make final preparations and remain there for the maximum time possible. Make sure that there are rooms with no windows, preferably downstairs bathrooms or hall closets. Make sure they are well stocked and keep a mattress there to protect you from any falling debris. Stay tuned for radio and television announcements. I beg you to help those who are unable to or haven't prepared sufficiently. This is the time to demonstrate that we understand solidarity and will help are brothers and sisters in time of need. May god bless us."

They voice of the newscaster began. "This is the announcement that many anticipated. A declaration of ....."

"We knew it had to happen. We are prepared. We will be ok. The basement is already. Stocked and with three mattresses for us to sleep or to protect us. Honey, we are ready. I know that we can beat them. We'll be safe." Maria looked on with a soft smile while her sister spoke. They ate in silence to claps of thunder and a steady rain in the dark afternoon. The phone rang. It was for Maria.

"Yes, yes. I will be their in about an hour."

"You're not going out now, are you? It isn't safe."

"I'll be fine. We are just having a meeting in the church by the lake. Our group. It's a thirty minute bike ride. We need to see each other and discuss what's going on. I'll be back for dinner."

"But it's raining and cold."

"Don't worry. I'll bundle up and wear the poncho."

"Take the car."

"No, I don't think so. Not after what they said. No don't worry." The TV interrupted the silence of her preparations with repeated the warnings and news briefs. She kissed both of them, giving them a long pleasant smile before leaving. "I'll be fine. This way you two can catch up." They watched her ride off in the rain under the dark green hood.

"She'll be fine. The worst thing that will happen to her is that she catches a cold." Said Alex. Martha made a drink.

"I know it's early but I'm scared. Do you want one?"

"Sure. We'll be all right. Remember the last time? It all blew over. We'll get through this one too."

"This is when I really miss your father. God rest his soul. He would have been very proud of you." She put the fresh drinks on kitchen table and remembered her husband, and they drank and reminisced, the funny stories comforting them both and they passed the afternoon drinking and remembering and almost forgetting.

Excited voices on the television. "Mom, turn it up."

"The Ministry of Defense has just issued a special warning. There exists the possibility of aerial bombing attacks on civilian targets. All citizens are immediately advised to remain or immediately go to their safe areas. Turn off all lights and close all windows, draw curtains and bring down all shades and immediately go to your safe areas. We will continue to broadcast on all government radio stations. Television broadcasts will be interrupted at this time."

A Federation shield was displayed on the screen before it turned to snow. Martha hurriedly closed all the windows and blinds, pulling back the shades.

"Should I take the car and go get Aunt Maria?" Asked Alex.

"No, please, don't leave me alone. She will be safe there. Dear, should we tape the windows. I forgot to do it." Alex took a role of duct tape from the kitchen and quickly put crosses and squares across the windows downstairs. Martha did the same upstairs. They returned to their drinks and sat in the silence smoking.

"Should we go downstairs into the basement. I mean, they said we should. At least we can turn on the light." She got up and took the sack of potatoes and a large basin filled with water. "Get two knives. It will give us something to do."

Martha locked the door to the basement from the inside. New shelves filled the basement with canned foods, batteries, alcohol, cigarettes and there were five large drums filled with water and two more with fuel. "Wow, you really stocked up since I was here last."

"We're ready. I'm worried about Martha. Why did she have to go?" Once they give the all clear I'll go get her."

"No, you'll stay right here." She handed him a knife and a potato. The radio repeated the warnings. The mood had changed. They had become silent and introspective, filling the large bowl with slices of potatoes and another bucket with peels.

"Behind the drums of water I set up a little room for you so you could have some privacy. Your aunt and I can have arranged things behind the bathroom, were the ping-pong table used to be." They could hear jets flying low over the house and loud roaring sounds. The radio announced that the attacks had begun, for everyone to look for cover. The phone rang. Martha picked up the extension she had next to the radio.

"I'm fine. We left the church a few hours ago and have gone north. I'm sorry. I wanted to stay with you but I had to go with the group. You have Alex to take care of you. You will be ok."

Martha began crying. "Why did you leave us? We have everything. Where are you?"

"I'm sorry. We are going a few hundred kilometers to the north, to a mountain retreat. I'm where I should be. Pray Martha. Pray. Now pass me to Alex." She passed the phone and put her hands to her face and cried.

"Alex darling. Like I told your mother. We've left the area and gone north. Not because it's safer. For other reasons I can't go into now. Now listen carefully. Tomorrow there will be a lull in the fighting. An all clear."

"But how do you know?"

"That isn't important. Just listen to me. Once you hear that." There was an explosion and the house trembled.

"My god." Cried Martha.

"It has started Maria. We just heard an explosion."

"I know, just listen. Once they give you the all clear tomorrow go to the football stadium. Be there before five o'clock. There will be many people like you. There will." Another explosion and the house trembled. The voice on the telephone line squeaked then melted away. The noise from the radio became static.

"The line is dead." Another explosion, the sound of something crashing. They held each other.

"Why did she leave? My sister. We have always been together. What did she say?"

"She said there would be an all clear tomorrow and that I should go to the football stadium. There was going to be an important announcement." Martha cried on his shoulder. There was an enormous crack and the ground shook. The electricity went out and they could here the house rip apart. They were thrown to the ground from the shaking and it was as if an enormous wind blew over the house. They lay on the ground and held each other for a long time. Longer then they could imagine.

The lay and waited in the silence and darkness. "It isn't on fire, is it? We'll suffocate. What should we do?"

"I'll check."

"No, no. Stay here." She begged.

"I'll just check. We've got to make sure." He lit a lighter and found a flashlight and turned on two electric lanterns. The light relieved them both. The basement was intact. He shined a light up the staircase on the door to the house, the door was still closed.

"What was it? A nuclear bomb?" Asked Martha.

"I don't know. Let me check the house." He moved up the stairs and turned the double lock. The door was jammed. He kicked and it budged opened. He was careful to keep part of it on the frame so the frame didn't collapse and squeezed his way through. The wall that faced outside from the kitchen had collapsed and the roof had crashed in on the kitchen. The other side of the house was completely open, no walls nothing. Only the darkness of the night. Stars shined down on the old living room. The staircase only had five steps left on it.

"Come back. Be careful. There may be radiation." He took another look at the stars and saw the lights again. Hundreds of them. More than he had ever seen. It was magnificent, sublime. "Please, come back down. Lock the door again." He jammed it back into place and walked back down into the light of the lanterns.

"It's gone. All gone. This is all we have."

"At least we are alive. And we can survive till things get back the way they were." She hugged him and cried. "At least we are alive. I hope your aunt is ok."

"I'm sure she is. She said she was in the mountains." They listened to the eerie silence for hours before going to sleep. The radio was static on all channels.

"We'll just stay here until we hear something. We'll stay here."

*

He woke to the sound of her turning on the radio. All static. She carefully moved around the basement with the lamp as if it were the kitchen. Lighting the camping gas and putting the kettle on it. He took a bucket of water and went to the bathroom. At least it still drained. They drank coffee and smoked. "How are we ever going to know where she is? If she is all right?"

"We'll find out. Maybe today at the gathering. She might be there." He said it to try and convince her to let him go. And her reaction confirmed the effort. She tried the radio again. Still static. They spent the hours playing cards and eating bags of chips, Alex watching the time. The morning turning into early afternoon, still static on the radio. They ate jarred sausages and drank soft drinks for lunch. He reached back and tried the radio. Voices.

"There has been a nuclear attack. Many cities are completely devastated. Federation forces have responded in full and are convinced that the Alliance is no longer a threat. There will be an announcement this afternoon by the President of the Federation and military officials. The following areas have been given the all clear........" Their village was one of them.

"Do you really think it can be over this quickly?"

"With these weapons they have, maybe. Look what they did to us, and we have much more and stronger weapons than they do. Let's hope so. I'm going to the meeting. Maybe she will be there." He thought of Matilde as he said it. He didn't know what to imagine.

"Please be careful."

He managed to squeeze his way out the door and closed it behind him. He could hear her locking it as he walked out of the debris and toward the street. The car was turned over on the grass, the windows blown out and the frame bent. In what was left of the garage he found an old bike. He rode through the suburban neighborhoods, almost all the homes were partially or totally destroyed, but there were no fires. He saw no bodies, but made a special effort not to look for them. Through the center of the village where the destruction seemed less noticeable. Many stores were still intact. A few cars drove by. Once outside the village began a long line of cars entering into the parking lot of the football stadium. He rode by the bottleneck and approached the entrance to the stadium. It was as if it were an important match. No difference except the silence. An eerie silence fell among the masses as they walked through the stadium.

He walked into the first level and jumped over the railing to the pitch were many people were standing and looking up. He found a spot near the center and watched the dark clouds pass by. More rain he thought. The stadium quickly filled, there were no empty seats in the stands and on the pitch the people stood shoulder to shoulder. Heads began to turn and look up. Finally the silence was broken by the dim of chatter and questioning tones. "Look! Look at the clouds!" People began to point up. The clouds moved like curtains being drawn. "Look! They're moving! They're making a circle!" All of the dark clouds accumulated into a large billowy blanket with a bright, perfectly formed circle in the middle. All heads looking up like thousands of sheep watching their shepherd.

"A light! Look! It's growing!" A small bright light like a moving star moved in the center of the circle, growing larger and larger, leaving a gray line behind on its trajectory. It moved faster as it approached, larger and larger, brighter and brighter. The gray downward arc more and more defined. The light began to transform itself, to widen and begin to bulge and form a shape. It began to have a side and a back and transformed itself into an enormous white throne, the white becoming grainy and solid, as if it were stone or marble. From inside the grainy substance a shape formed, a face began to appear in the stone then separate from it. A body, a beautiful radiant face and body, in a white tunic, a vine around his forehead. It stopped above the stadium, the long gray arc swooping up into the heavens. The enormous hand took a huge book and threw it behind him. The book spun back behind him and floated up, disappearing as it rose into the distance. Then a thundering voice spoke.

"We don't need this anymore." The whole image began to dissolve into the sky as the thousands of heads watched amazed in the intense silence.
