Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(60)
Calli rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not dawn yet. The streets will be quiet. I just have to make it to the legislative building. That will be enough, I think.”
“What if Escobedo is not in the city?”
“I don’t know, Uncle Josh! All I can do is try, right? Hell, maybe I’ll steal a car instead of a boat and drive up there myself.”
“No, you mustn’t do that!”
It was the reaction she had anticipated. “So I’ll try the legislative building instead.” It would sound like the more reasonable alternative of the two.
Josh dropped his head back into his hands. “Okay. Okay.” His voice was hoarse.
Calli patted his shoulder again. Then she went to her room and changed. Black trousers, which would meld into what remained of the night, a white tee-shirt and a waist-length dark green windbreaker. She braided her hair tightly, dropped the end of the braid inside the jacket and put on the flat black hat that had been sitting on Minnie’s bed. She suspected it was Duardo’s, perhaps a gift to her, because it was too large for Calli’s head. Her thick braid kept it on her head and low over her eyes.
Josh’s brows rose when she emerged from the bedroom carrying her backpack.
“From a distance they may take me for a Vistarian. At least I won’t be identified as that American woman straight away. That will give me the time I need.” She glanced out the window. “It’s getting lighter. I must go.”
He stood up. “If I were thirty years younger...”
“You’re not, though. Don’t flay yourself with guilt, Uncle Josh. Minnie will be okay. I said I’d watch out for her, didn’t I? You must take care of Beryl.”
“I won’t try to leave today. We’ll stay here, so you’ve got somewhere to head back to when you find her.”
“Alright.” Calli hesitated, then added, “If we don’t arrive back here by tomorrow, you should go. We’ll find our own way over to Mexico.”
He hugged her tightly. “You’ve surprised me a few times since you arrived here, Calli. Never more so than now. You’ve got more strength than I and for that I’m grateful.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough.” She patted his cheek. “Because right now, I’m terrified.”
“Running helps,” he said, without a glimmer of a smile. He nodded towards the door. “Go.”
Calli left, shutting the door quietly so no one in the building would be wakened. She ducked in between the walls into the narrow alley made of stairs—a shortcut for pedestrians. The stairs plunged straight down the hill instead of following the painful hair-pin bends of the road. Her heart raced and her legs trembled—she was afraid of what she must do now. After a few minutes of climbing, the trembling in her legs disappeared as the muscles warmed up. Yet her heart continued to flutter.
When she reached the flatter street at the bottom of the hill she looked to the left—north—where the heart of the city lay. The main street that connected with the Avenue of Nations was a hundred yards away. The street was deserted, dusty.
Running helps, Joshua had said.
She broke into a slow jog, heading for the city, her backpack bouncing against her back, the fresh morning air bathing her face. After a few minutes her fear evaporated and the unsteady beat of her heart settled into a strong rhythm in response to her body’s need for oxygen. Josh had been right.
The jogging ate up the distance. Soon she had reached the densely populated inner city core. Many more people appeared, gathering in small groups and whispering together. She dropped to a swift walk, not willing to draw attention to herself. Ahead she could see the big main square, the same square she had been watching those long hours when she had waited in the cell. Now she knew the square was the center of the city and the Avenue of Nations ran off the square, heading west towards the mountains.
She turned into the wide road and hurried along the sidewalk, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding people. She looked ahead to see how many people lingered about the fountain. She could not see it yet.
There were more people on the Avenue, although they were not threatening. Perhaps the outbreak of rebellion in the north had stolen the rioters’ thunder and they had given up. The small hope buoyed her as she climbed the short slope to the top of the Avenue and saw for the first time the fountain there. If any rioters remained, they would surely be in front of the gates.
There were people sleeping there. They lay on the concrete about the base of the fountain, their belongings beside them. They were homeless, perhaps refugees from Pascuallita or the new little township that had sprung up around the Garrido mine. The government had not had time to organize refugee camps yet.
It occurred to her that these people were as scared about the outbreak of war in the north as she and Minnie had been, sitting on the sofa together last night, whispering their speculations to each other.
The sleepers hadn’t spilled out onto the road, so Calli stepped onto the tarmac and headed straight for the gate. She wondered if she would draw attention, although there was no other way to reach the gates without stepping over bodies and pushing through groups. She would most certainly be recognized if she did that.
The road ran straight to the entrance. Calli moved around the last of the sleeping people and up to the closed gates. She gripped the iron bars with a small sense of relief. Soldiers stood at parade rest behind the gates. There were five guards, each with machine guns still hanging at their sides. She peered at them through the ironwork, hoping she might recognize one of them. They were all strangers.