Page 44 of Freedom Fighters
Dull anger touched her. “No, it’s in.”
“You only winged your man. Take a hike, Escobedo. One mile.”
“No.” She shoved her gun in the holster and wiped the sweat out of her eyes with the sleeve of her teeshirt, which was less damp than any other part of it.
“One mile, or KP,” he said.
Carmen launched herself at him. She’d had enough and shedidn’t have the energy to find the words she needed to explain what she thought of him. A growl erupted from her throat as she threw her arms around his neck. She brought her boot up, intending to kick him in the stomach.
Her boot never made it. Garrett moved with the speed of a panther, using her momentum to flip her around. His arm hooked over her neck and he dropped her flat on her back.
The black barrel of his Mauser touched her temple. “You’re dead.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were locked in her chest. She struggled to draw breath and when she did, it was a shallow pant. “I hate your guts, Garrett.” It took three breaths to get it out.
He straightened up and put the gun away. “Clean yourself up. Then help prepare lunch. Move it, soldier.”
She couldn’t move.It hurt too much.
Garrett lifted his foot and swung it back. He was about to kick her. The fury circling through her gave her just enough energy to roll out of the way, onto her hands and knees. She stared at him.
Garrett was standing with both feet spread, his hands on his hips. The kick had been a feint. “I see you found the wherewithal to move,” he told her. He turned his back on her, towatch Archie take his next three shots.
Carmen hung her head, exhaustion battling with her fury. After a moment, she got painfully to her feet and headed for the refectory. Angelo was already there, drinking from a water canteen. So were four others, including Efraín. They watched her.
Judging her.
She mentally shrugged. Let them sneer at the privileged city girl. She didn’t give a fuck. Notright now.
The shower was lukewarm, thanks to the heat of the day. It was one of the best showers she had ever had. She toweled off briefly. The day was so warm and still, she would be sweating in another twenty minutes, anyway.
She dressed in her other clothes, which was another pair of jeans and a teeshirt. She had arrived at the camp wearing Nick’s sailing sweater and someone’s discardedpants, covered in paint. That they had been able to find jeans close to her size at all was a small miracle. Besides, no one here cared what she looked like, only how good she could shoot.
A big pot of stew cooked on the stove. She dipped a bowl into it and found a cool corner to sit and eat. She was ravenous.
As she ate, she watched Garrett put the rest through their paces. From her sidelineviewpoint, she saw that Garrett was smudging out the line in the dirt and moving it closer and closer to the tree. He was giving them a break. A sneaky break.
Ledo was the last one to hit his target and one of his bullets was on the line itself. He dropped the gun, letting it swing from his forefinger and looked at Garrett miserably.
“Hit the showers,” Garrett told him. “You’re to do targetpractice for an hour every day this week.”
Ledo didn’t even nod. He was too tired. He trudged back into the monastery, the gun still hanging from his finger.
Garrett turned and walked around the corner of the building. He was going back to his office, Carmen guessed. She poked her tongue at his back, then saw that Efraín was watching her. He grinned and stuck his thumb up.
After she had finishedeating, Carmen made her way stiffly back to her sleeping bag and eased herself down on to it, then onto her side. Sleep grabbed her almost instantly. She surfaced a few times as the afternoon wore on and the heat of the day blasted the earth beyond the roof of the refectory. Nothing moved under the roof itself and she heard snores from others around her. It let her drift back to sleep.
When shewoke again, it was close to sunset. Llora watched her. As Carmen sat up, she beckoned with her hand.
Carmen gasped as her muscles protested at the simple act of sitting. She had to get to her hands and knees, then lift one foot after the other. Her back twinged and everything hurt. When she was on her feet, she crept over to where Llora was standing by the makeshift bench holding up the kitchenequipment and gas cookers.
“Everyone will be hungry tonight,” Llora told her. “You must help me.”
Carmen nodded. “I’m on KP. I know. What are you cooking and what do you want me to do?”
Carmen’s cooking skills were basic. Llora had her prepare vegetables and stir soup. The small movements as she shifted up and down the bench, washing dishes and stirring in ingredients, warmed up her musclesand eased the ache. A bit.
Llora guessed correctly. Everyone was starving by the time Llora called that supper was ready, including Carmen. She fell on the food as hungrily as any of the men, serving herself a huge portion.
