Page 1 of Freedom Fighters
Chapter One
Carmen stopped hating Garrett long enough to dig into the battered backpack hanging from her shoulder and hand him the wad of Vistarian currency. He took it from her and handed it to the man sitting on the other side of the little, scratched table.
Hernandez Garcia took the cash and looked at it. “Are you sure,señor?” he asked Garrett. “I am a loyal Vistarian. I would give youthese things if you must truly have them.”
Carmen scowled at Garrett and turned to peer through the window of the small house. She stood next to Efraín, who was their sentry this time. Efraín had his rifle cocked and the butt resting on his hip as his gaze flickered from point to point across the landscape.
“Still okay?” Carmen asked in a murmur.
“Still okay.”
Behind her, Garrett spoke toHernandez patiently. “It’s better that you have a way to explain to the Insurrectos why you lost your phone and your laptop. This way, you can tell them that strangers paid you a lot of money for them.”
“Why can I not say they were stolen? It’s such a lot of money, señor!”
“Because if they were stolen, you would have reported the theft to the community station as soon as they went missing andyou would inform the telephone company, too. That would make the phone and the laptop useless to us more quickly that we would like.”
“Then I will tell the Insurrectos nothing!” Hernandez declared.
“Garrett,” Carmen said in warning. They had been in the house far too long already.
Garrett glared at her with flint gray eyes and turned back to Hernandez. “If you say nothing you will declare yourselfa Loyalist. They’re still hanging anyone they think is a Loyalist without benefit of a trial.” He shook his head. “Take the money, Hernandez. Then you will merely look like an enterprising Vistarian.”
Hernandez nodded. “I will do what you say, señor. Only it troubles me to do so.”
“Troubled is a condition I can deal with,” Garrett said, standing. “Dead, I cannot cure.”
“Garrett,” Carmen urgedhim once more.
“Take a pill,” he snapped at her, in English. He picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder so it hung low on his back. Then he dropped the grubby serape over the top and donned the straw cowboy hat he favored. The scrubby growth on his cheeks and chin that he never shaved grew in much darker than his blond hair. With the hat, he didn’t look foreign at first glance. Foreignerswere unknown on the streets of Vistaria’s cities and towns these days. The beard also hid most of the scars on his face, which would make him memorable.
The serape was an indeterminate gray-green color. The stripes of wool were once brighter and more varied. Time, dirt, smoke and sweat had turned the serape into a muted, dirty and disguising garment. It didn’t look like camouflage, yet it workedjust as well to hide Garrett among the trees.
Carmen stuffed the laptop and cellphone into her backpack, then tucked her own rifle back over her shoulder and checked the safety on the Smith & Wesson. She wore a light jacket that came down to mid-thigh and hid the gun on her hip.
Efraín kept his gaze on the window while they prepared.
“Efraín?” Garrett murmured.
“Clear.”
With a last nod atHernandez, Garrett stepped out of the house, taking the lead. Carmen followed him out and moved to his right flank, quartering the area without turning her head. It was clear, as advertised.
Relaxing only a little, she hurried after Garrett. He was already striding down the steep hill toward the trees. They had left the rest of the unit on the outskirts of town, in a tucked-away glade on theedge of the tree line. Only three of them heading into the town had been a risk, yet larger numbers would have drawn attention.
It was an overcast day, with an iron-gray sky that promised rain. The heat had not slackened for more than a week. It was the dog days of summer. Until she had moved to the States to study, Carmen hadn’t known what that meant. Now, moving through damp air bereft of thesmallest breeze, her body sticky with sweat, she thought the name was perfect.
They maintained silence all the way out of Cerro Ciudad, which suited Carmen just fine. She glared at Garrett’s back occasionally. He watched their route ahead. For all she knew, he also watched through the back of his head and sideways. Garrett had instincts that had saved them more than once. She always monitoredhim to catch his first twitch of alarm.
No one lingered on the streets. It was siesta time and although a town this high in the foothills wouldn’t need to sleep away the heat of the day, the habit was ingrained. They made the clearing without alarm.
Angelo moved across the clearing and touched Carmen’s shoulder. That was all he did, although Carmen sensed Garrett’s scowl in reaction.
The eightof them moved through the trees, skirting the town. Their progress was nearly silent. Carmen was still learning how to place her feet and avoid branches that could snap. She was a city girl, while all the others except Garrett had grown up in the south end of the island. Hiking silently through scrub was built into them.
Garrett, of course, was a freak of nature. He never made a sound when hewas moving.
When Carmen stepped on leaf litter that was drier than it looked and crumpled loudly, he glared at her over his shoulder.
