Page 73 of V-Day
He held her face. “Good.”
“Good?” She clutched at him, astonished.
“Last time you thought you’d been betrayed, you collapsed in on yourself. This time, you didn’t. You got angry instead and vented it. I have hope for you, Téra.” His smile was warm.
Téra drew in a breath which fizzed on the way down. “Me, too,” she breathed and kissed him, because he was taking too long to get to it.
*
DUARDO HAD SETTLED ON Astrategy before the Blackhawks left Freonegro pass. The pilots brought the choppers down in the big town square, instead of at the top of the Avenue of Nations in front of the Palace. There were always too many people outside the Palace gates.
There were still too many civilians in the town square, too. The pilots lowered the helicopters a foot at a time, giving them plenty of time to get out of the way. The birds settled on the flat stone cobbles before Duardo realized they were fully down.
He grabbed a headset and said into it, “Stop the rotors, too. We don’t want a civilian getting caught by them.” Even though the rotors were well above human height, he wanted no harm to come to these people. They had been through enough.
Duardo gripped his rifle and stepped down onto the ground. Behind him, the rest of the men streamed off the craft.
This was the square where, many months ago, Duardo had first seen Minnie, standing beside the police station while she waited for her father and Calli to emerge.
It was ironic that he be standing here now.
He glanced around the big square as the other two Blackhawks settled and their rotors also came to a slow stop.
Most of the Vistarians in the square were carrying heavy packs, pulling suitcases and carrying possessions in bags. They were leaving. The message counting down on Duardo’s phone had goosed them into leaving, too.
The sight of the three Blackhawks brought them to an astonished halt, though.
A dozen of them dropped their bags and hurried over to the helicopters. They spotted Duardo and surrounded him. Their questions were quick and anxious.
“You’re here to free us?”
“You’ve come to end the war?”
“Are you going to take the Palace?”
“Are you going to take Serrano prisoner?”
“Is this the end of the war?”
Duardo held up his hand. “Yes to all the above.”
Their smiles took his breath away.
“Only, you must leave the city,” Duardo told them. “The threat is real. The countdown on your phones and tablets is real. Go now. We’ll take care of this.”
They thanked him over and over, before they reluctantly went back to their bags and boxes and picked them up again. There were others, not as forward as the first, who questioned them. The answers made them look at Duardo sharply. They smiled and reached for the arms and shoulders of their companions and spoke quickly as they escaped the square.
Word would pass.
Satisfied, Duardo hefted his rifle. “Spread out in the formation you were given!” he cried. “There are still Insurrectos in the city and they’ll be guarding the Palace. This will not be a cakewalk! Move out!”
Aguado pushed himself off the fuselage of the Blackhawk and unslung his rifle. “Finally,” he said, sounding aggrieved. He gave a signal and the Mexican contingent spread out among the Loyalists, filling the ranks.
They would fan across the square, out into the city streets, to approach the Palace from three directions. The thickest body of men were heading for the Palace by the most direct route, along the Avenue of Nations.
It was a beautiful sight.
*
