Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(67)

She fell onto the cushion, still clutching her balled up tee-shirt, her limbs as useless as a stringless marionette’s. Her hand hurt with the force of her clenching yet she didn’t let go of the tee-shirt.

Minnie squirmed through the opening in the seats. Calli watched through the seats as her cousin lay across Duardo’s lap, smoothed his brow and kissed him. She patted his shoulder while her throat worked, as if she couldn’t speak the words building there. Her eyes were wide, their focus on him fierce.

Duardo ruffled her hair. “I regret...” He took a slow, struggling breath. “English...agh,” he whispered. Then, “Nick?”

Nick stared straight ahead, his face a mask. “Sí, Duardo?”

“Dile que estaba equivocada…Si no hubiera insistido en cumplir con mi deber, habría tenido la alegría de ser su marido. Incluso un solo día. Yo habría estado orgulloso.”

Minnie’s face crumpled and she wept, showing she had understood part of it. Enough of it.

Nick took a breath and swallowed. “Minnie, he said, ‘Tell her I was wrong. If I had not insisted on doing my duty, then I would have had the joy of being her husband.—’”

Minnie gave a choked cry as Duardo’s head rolled to one side.

“‘Even a single day. I would have been proud,’” Nick finished, his voice a flat rasp.

Minnie buried her head against Duardo’s chest, holding him.

Calli watched, too numb with shock to comfort her.

Beside the silent pair, Nick reached up and thumped the door frame with the side of his fist. Once. Twice. And a third time that traveled through the metal and made the craft shiver.





Chapter Sixteen


They landed on the same square of concrete they had lifted off from that morning. Only then did the horrible silence in the cockpit break.

Nick lifted Minnie away from Duardo’s body, as soldiers raced across the concrete and opened the door on that side. Two of them had a stretcher. They eased Duardo out of the seat and lay him on the canvas.

Nick held Minnie against him. She was limp in his arms and did not protest as the soldiers carried the stretcher away. Nor did she resist when he opened his door and lifted her onto the concrete beside him.

He looked at Calli then, his expression bleak. “Come.”

Calli maneuvered her cramped body to the concrete, surprised she could move at all, or that she could stand. She tugged at her crumpled tee-shirt, only now having the elbowroom to straighten it up. She didn’t bother tucking it back into her jeans.

Somewhere in the last few hours, the elastic holding her braid had snapped or been pulled off and her hair had unraveled. The ends brushed her elbows. She pushed it back tiredly.

Nick took her arm and Minnie’s too, then led them over to the row of cars. He called out to the soldier standing guard.

“El sedán de BMW, se?or!” a soldier answered.

“Keys?” Nick asked. “Las llaves?” he added.

“Sí se?or!” The soldier turned and ran.

Nick directed them to the dark blue BMW the soldier had recommended for its power and good handling, the two qualities Nick had specified. “Get in,” he told them. “I’ll get you back to the apartment and then off the island. It’s no longer safe for you here.”

Calli slid onto the front passenger seat. Nick helped Minnie into the back then settled behind the wheel. The soldier dropped the keys into his hand. He shut the door, started the car and backed out.

Minnie curled up into a ball on the back seat. Her eyes were closed. Shutting out the world, Calli suspected.

Nick didn’t head for the main gates. Instead, he drove across the concrete to a gravel path that skirted the southern wing of the palace. Beyond the building the manicured lawns turned to wild grasses. The road slipped between trees and emerged onto a narrow and deserted neighborhood street, a mile from the palace. He turned left and headed for the downtown area.

As soon as they turned onto a major road Nick braked sharply. People moved along the street itself. They were carrying, pulling or pushing belongings in sacks, carts, trolleys, whatever carrier was to hand. They hurried along, fear the common expression on their faces. Most of them headed east.

“Where are they going?” Calli breathed.

“The coast. Off island. It’s a hereditary instinct in Vistarians to flee the island when trouble strikes.” He changed gears and let the car drop into a crawl. “We’ll have to use side roads. There’s a route over the back of the hill that will get us to your apartment.”

“What trouble are they running from? The rebels are north.”

Nick glanced at her. “Not for long. If people are fleeing the city, they expect the fighting to break out here at any moment. Word will have passed.” He nudged the car through the crowd, easing it to the right. Once he reached a side street, he picked up speed, for the street was deserted.

No businesses were open. It reminded Calli of news footage she had seen of cities that were the focus of war—empty streets, bombed-out cars and silence. Everywhere, the dust and rubble of disaster.

“How could this happen so fast?” she asked. “Yesterday, las colinas was a normal city. Even this morning I did not see this sort of...” She was at a loss to categorize what she saw.

“Exodus,” Nick supplied. “I was caught napping. Worse. I was complacent. I thought we had time, Jose and I, to fix this.” He did not say the words with any emphasis.