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The destination warehouse was a half-hour drive outside Tampico. They had to cross through the entire city all the way from the port just to get to the city limits. The entire journey was taking a fair amount longer because of having to go in the opposite direction to pick up the cases from Francesca, though they were getting close now.

In the end, Flash and Tatyana were sitting in the back of the covered truck with the cases. Even had she not brought half the armory and even had Flash not brought an entire backpack of hopefully unnecessary explosives, the truck’s cab just wasn’t designed to hold five people. It really wasn’t even designed for three people, but both Alice and Dorothy were on the smaller side. Which was helped by Alice’s relative lack of gear.

Despite her orders to prepare for war, Alice looked the same as ever, wearing her black suit and leather gloves that matched her hair. Her suit hid an AR500 plate, but she insisted that it not be overly visible. She did have a set of shatter-resistant sunglasses on, but they were designed more for their slim, sleek style than any real protection. As the face of the company, in her words, it was important to meet clients face-to-face rather than hiding behind bulky gear.

Alister had often said that it would be hard to meet with clients when she had a bullet through her skull, but his words fell on deaf ears. Not even Gideon could convince her.

Dorothy was the exact opposite. Despite his best efforts, she still looked like a little kid going skiing for the first time with the bulkiest clothing possible. It was actually a bit worrying. The truck’s air conditioning was not the best and Mexican summers were not the kindest to people in heavy gear. He had to make sure that she stayed well hydrated as they drove out away from the city.

“How about Code Talker?”

“What?”

“A term used to refer to Native Americans that served in the United States Marine Corps who used their native language as unbreakable encryption. At the time, absolutely no one outside of the Americas knew Navajo, and other location-specific languages. No books had been published. And even if the Axis Powers captured one of the Navajos, the language was switched around and coded in a way that wouldn’t make sense unless they had the right key.”

“I’ve heard about code talkers. I am a linguistics student and I have recently studied Navajo and Cherokee—”

“I know.”

“How do you—” Dorothy cut herself off, pinching her eyes shut and gritting her teeth. “What do code talkers have to do with anything?”

“A nickname for you.”

A beat of silence passed in the cab before Dorothy figuratively exploded—an important distinction when Flash was around. “Are you still on about that? I don’t want to be Code Talker!”

“You’re right. It is a bit of a mouthful. How about just Talker?”

Dorothy threw her arms up in the air. “I don’t want to be anything.”

Alister’s sigh of exasperation turned to one of relief as he turned down a long and lonesome road. A flick of his eyes toward the GPS mounted on the dashboard confirmed his thoughts. “We’re here.” Though that wasn’t quite accurate. They had to get to the end of the road first. As long as it stopped another argument before it could get noisy, he didn’t really care about such minor details.

The building at the end of the cracked pavement was an old warehouse. Brick, though heavily worn down from the erosion of time. It had a few large windows toward the top of its high walls, but most of them were no longer intact. Planks of plywood nailed from the inside kept the weather and prying eyes out. It clearly wasn’t going to be used to hold the cases for long. Not that it mattered much. Once they dropped them off and got paid, the owners could toss the merchandise into the ocean for all he cared.

He did note a few guards. “Two men outside the destination,” he said, activating his headset to alert both Flash and, if she understood, Tatyana. “No visible armor, but both are armed with what looks like M4s.” It was a bit hard to tell at this distance, but M4s and AK-47s made up most of Mexico’s illicit assault rifles, so it was an educated guess.

“Mayhem,” Alice said into her own ear piece. “Slip away. Find a roost. Keep watch for anything suspicious.”

Flash’s voice clicked over the speaker. “And there she goes.”

Alister frowned. He was going sixty kilometers per hour and hadn’t slowed down just yet. There was a limit to how reckless she could be. Though he wasn’t hearing cries of pain or Flash commenting on her broken body, so she must have made it out alright. It was a good thing that the truck was kicking up such a dust cloud on the poorly maintained road or she would have been spotted without a doubt.

“I hope these are friendlies,” Alister mumbled mostly to himself as he finally slowed down.

“They aren’t shooting yet. Since we called ahead, they should be expecting us.”

“Can they really just walk around with guns like that?” Dorothy said. Her voice was curious, but had a notable tremble to her words. “What if someone sees them? Won’t they call the police.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone around to call. Look at the buildings we’re passing. Every single one looks abandoned.” As Dorothy glanced around, Alister shot a look at Alice. “How do you want to handle this?”

“Nothing has changed. We knew we would be meeting people here. Just pull up and let me do the talking. They’ll probably have us pull inside the warehouse while we unload. That’s fine with me, though back in and keep our engine running. If we have to make a quick getaway, I don’t want to be bothered with one of your famous twenty-three point turns.”

“Fair enough,” Alister said. Resting a hand on Dorothy’s knee, he tried to give her a reassuring pat. “Don’t say anything, no sudden movements. Remember, if something happens, keep your head down and the rest of us will get you out of here.” He mentally groaned as soon as he finished speaking. It really did sound like they were kidnapping her.

Still, they had a job to do. He proceeded to follow Alice’s orders. Sure enough, after some words exchanged between her and the guards, which Alister didn’t understand, she directed him around the side of the building. A number of loading bays lined the wall, set up for delivery trucks. None looked like they had been used recently. He backed right up against the open bay so that they wouldn’t have to hop up and down while unloading.

“Stick by my side,” Alice said, taking Dorothy’s hand as she pulled the latter out of the passenger side of the truck.

As instructed, Alister left the engine running as he hopped out of the driver’s side door. One of the guards was eying him as he made his way to the rear, but the guy never readied his rifle. Alister never liked making deliveries like this in person. Dead drops were so much safer. Meeting with people always ran the risk of something going wrong. Whether that was betrayal at the last minute, a traitor in the organization, or just some fool with an itchy trigger finger—drug runners were not well known for their gun discipline. Thankfully, betrayal was unlikely. If word got out that this group was shooting the messengers, no one would deliver for them again. It happened now and again, but most groups like this relied on some measure of trustworthiness to remain in business.

Two unarmed people were already moving the crates, carrying them one at a time between the two of them. They didn’t take them far into the warehouse, just around the corner of the open bay door. Flash stood by, watching, probably glad that he didn’t have to help out. He had certainly complained enough while they were transferring them to the truck from Francesca’s lifeboat. Alister kept walking until he reached Alice and Dorothy. They were deep in a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish—or Alice was, Dorothy was trying very much to look like she wasn’t nervous and was failing miserably. The main speaker was Rafael Cervantes of the cartel of the same name, though he wasn’t the overall leader. He was the proper contact though, according to those Alister had spoken with on the way to Mexico. Alister only caught a word here and there, but things looked like they were going well. Both Alice and Rafael were smiling. They weren’t the ‘I’m going to kill as soon as we’re done’ smiles either.

Despite everything going well and the unloaders looking like they would finish not even five minutes after pulling up, Alister still kept tense. Maybe it was a bit of Flash’s paranoia. Maybe it was Alice’s feelings from earlier. Maybe it was just his own instincts. Something was wrong.

He scanned over everyone. The leader, happily chatting away, his guards, looking almost bored and hardly paying attention to anything as if this was nothing more than routine for them, the unarmed unloaders, scurrying back and forth without looking around much. Try as he might, he couldn’t find anything that stood out as being problematic.

Just as he was about to dismiss the feeling as a figment of his imagination, his ear piece buzzed to life with a clipped, single note hum from Tatyana.

Alice reacted a moment before he could, picking up a leg as she spun around. Her roundhouse kick caught Dorothy in the stomach, sending her slamming against the side of the truck. A sharp crack split the air in the very same instant, sending a splatter of red against the sandy ground behind Alice’s leg. With nothing more than an annoyed click of her tongue, she activated her headset.

Alister moved before she had a chance to say anything, not that it stopped her. He barreled into her, half tackling her to the ground. She had just been standing there with blood dripping down her leg, in the open, right where whoever had shot at her had demonstrated was within their sights. Once they hit the ground, he shoved her beneath the truck. On the way, she shouted out into her headset. “I want him alive, Mayhem. You hear me? AL-I-VE,” she sounded it out like she would to a toddler. As soon as she was under the truck, he threw open the door, hoping to use its armor as an extra barrier for him, Dorothy, and Alice.

Confusion was the most dangerous thing on the battlefield. Bullets could be mitigated with armor, cover, concealment, and counter-fire. Even if someone got hit, a single bullet was rarely deadly. Dangle a string from the forehead to the waist. If it a bullet hit anywhere along the string, instant death. Anywhere else and there was time. Maybe not much time, in certain places, but time nonetheless. No, confusion locked people in inaction. Confusion pointed people in the wrong way, putting them in line to get hit by enough bullets to put them down. Worst of all, confusion spread like a disease, infecting everyone nearby.

At the moment, that infection was spreading to the Mexicans. In the time it took to use the truck as makeshift cover for him, Dorothy, and Alice, Rafael and his bodyguards had barely moved. What little they had moved was mostly to aim their guns toward the only people in sight while Rafael dove to the ground. Namely, they pointed their weapons at Alister.

“¡No dispares!” Alister shouted. He might not be able to carry on a conversation in Spanish, but there were a few phrases that were good to know in as many languages as possible. ‘Don’t shoot’ ranked only slightly higher than ‘Where is the bathroom?’

Thankfully, Alice took over with a shout of her own. “Él no es uno de los míos, pinche tonto. No tendría mi propio francotirador disparándome.”

A second crack echoed through the street, punctuating Alice’s words. This one was much louder, more like thunder than the the previous one. It was a much more familiar noise. Tatyana’s KSVK. Unfortunately, despite knowing that it hadn’t been aimed in his direction, the familiar sound didn’t bring much relief. Too many bad memories.

The two guards who had their weapons pointed at Alister reacted by diving for cover with their boss. It was a slow reaction, again. If Tatyana had been aiming at them, she would have had plenty of time to hit both of them before they moved. But no bullet struck nearby. There was no puff of dirt, no thunk of it hitting the truck. At least they hadn’t fired on him in their panic. Alister counted himself as lucky for that alone.

There was a distant cry of pain coming from somewhere around the rooftops down the street.

“Ударь его,” Tatyana said. Simple, clipped, and Alister had a decent idea of what it meant.

Even still, better to err on the safe side. He pulled up his SA80 and aimed down toward the rooftops where the cry had come from. The roof looked clear. That didn’t necessarily mean that it was clear. He kept his eyes open, scanning along the tops of the abandoned buildings for any sign of movement. He wished he could move to a spot with a bit better cover, but with both Dorothy and Alice behind him, he needed to stay put.

Though the latter was trying to get out from under the truck. Alister moved to keep her under, but she just grabbed his hand and used it to pull herself out.

“It’s fine,” Alice said. “She got him.”

“There could be more.”

“If there were more, Tatyana would still be shooting.”

“Maybe they’re inside the buildings.” He could already tell the direction this argument was heading.

“Through the boarded up windows?” she asked, shaking her head as she rolled out from under the truck.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the buildings, but a quick glance over every window in sight showed that she was correct. They all had pieces of half-rotted plywood nailed over each one. “They could have small peep holes we can’t see from here or…” Alister trailed off. She was shouting something in Spanish again, which got a response from one of the Mexicans around the back side of the truck. Rafael had lost every ounce of his earlier jovial attitude.

Alice, still talking, stood and planted her feet in a matching set of footprints. She started looking around the ground for something and found it only a moment later. She plucked a bit of crushed copper and steel from the ground next to the loading ramp and turned it over in her gloved fingers.

Gritting his teeth, Alister threw one final glance over the rooftops, ensuring that no one was likely to take a shot at Alice in the next few seconds. He threw open the passenger door and grabbed the first aid kit from under the seat. “You alright Dorothy?” he asked as he started pulling out antiseptics and bandages. “Dorothy?” He didn’t think she had been hit, but her lack of response… He paused what he was doing and knelt down next to where she sat behind the truck’s open door.

She was shaking. Violently. Alister was worried about a seizure, but her eyes were wide open and alert. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, under her breath. It was barely a whisper. She hadn’t screamed or panicked aside from an initial yelp when Alice kicked her, but that was more from surprise than anything else. “Sorry.”

“What are- Oh,” he said as he noticed. Holly wasn’t going to be happy. “I should apologize. I shouldn’t have made you drink so much water. But you aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

“Good. Then everything else can be cleaned later. Don’t worry.” People who did get shot would often fail to notice right away unless they got shot in an easily visible spot. It was a shock thing. However, she had no blood anywhere on her that he could see and there had only been two shots, one of which had been Tatyana’s and the other had hit Alice’s leg.

The leg she was currently standing on. “What are you doing?” he said, turning away from Dorothy. Alice was balancing on her injured leg with her other up in the air like she was frozen in the middle of her kick. She kept staring between the bullet marks in the ground, her leg, and the distant rooftops. Her eyes flicked down to a second set of footprints directly in line with the three points. The footsteps dragged off toward where Dorothy was sitting against the truck. He opened his mouth, but a single look from Alice kept him from asking the question on his lips. “You need medical attention,” he said instead.

“It’s a flesh wound.”

“You have a hole in your leg.” Alister didn’t let her argue any more. She had silver tongue to win verbal arguments, or at least the stubborn tongue, but he had the upper body strength to pick Alice up and set her on the passenger seat of the truck. He immediately set to rolling up the leg of her suit pants. She had a meaty hole in her calf and the surrounding area was already turning a nasty shade of purple. Thankfully, it was a relatively shallow bite rather than a straight puncture, only taking out a small chunk of flesh and muscle. Unfortunately, it was bleeding. Blood ran down her leg, soaking into her sock and shoe. Her dark clothes were completely covered in the yellowish dirt. She hadn’t bothered trying to brush herself off, though it probably wouldn’t have helped.

“This was a new suit too,” Alice said with an clicking her tongue. “But I’ll survive.” She tried to hop off the seat, but Alister pinned her in place as he cleaned the wound. “We need to find the shooter. Mayhem had better not have killed him. I have some extremely pointed questions to ask him,” she said with a flick of her eyes toward Dorothy.

“Я привожу его к вам. Не знаю, как долго он будет жить.”

“What did she say?” Alister asked. “Dorothy?”

The girl jolted at being addressed. “I uh, she said she’s coming here and doesn’t know how long he’s going to last?” She shuddered and, if possible, paled even more than she already was.

“Oh. Good,” Alice said, ceasing her struggles. It was much easier to dress her wounds when he didn’t have to keep one hand pressing her into the seat.

“Sorry boss, I got captured.” Flash stepped around the back of the truck, up on the elevated loading platform. His hands were on his head and the barrel of a gun was peeking around the side of the canvased truck back.

Alice immediately set off in another slurry of Spanish, but at least she was remaining seated for him to try to stifle the bleeding properly. “They’re not exactly trusting at the moment,” she mumbled. “I hope Mayhem gets here quick. Even if the guy is dead, they’ll have someone else to be angry with.”

Alister kept his hands visible as he worked even though no one had actually stepped around the truck. Having someone with a gun to their head was bad enough. He didn’t need any misunderstandings making things worse. Pulling a roll of gauze tight around her leg, the self-adhesive kept it stuck in place. She still needed a proper visit with Doc, but at least she wouldn’t be bleeding out before then.

Tatyana marched up a moment later with an extra sniper rifle slung over her shoulder and a man dragging behind her as she pulled him along by the leg, leaving a long trail of blood in their wake. He was shouting out at the top of his lungs. Not anything articulate, just cries of pain. It didn’t take much to figure out what he was shouting about. His right foot was hanging to the rest of him by a thread. There was a hole large enough that Alister could clearly see the mangled bone where one of Tatyana’s anti-material round had hit in almost the same spot as where Alice had been hit. Flinging him around, Tatyana moved to step on one of his elbows. His other arm had one of Tatyana’s knives buried deep into the shoulder.

“Who are you?” Alice said as she hopped down from the truck. “Who are you working for?” When he didn’t respond, she tried again in Spanish. He had the right skin tone and general characteristics of a local, but he still didn’t respond. She tried again in German and French to the same end. Finally, she marched back to the truck and grabbed the first-aid kit. Dangling it from its strap, she let it swing back and forth in front of his face.

While she tried to get something out of him, Flash approached a little closer along with a few of the clients. Two of them were now pointing their guns at the downed man, but one still had his rifle at Flash’s back. The leader of the group actually stepped away, moving closer to Alice with a pistol drawn and aimed at the guy’s head.

“Tell me,” she said, kneeling down to practically shove the kit in his face. “And I’ll think about tying a tourniquet around your leg.”

That got a reaction out of him. He spat. Or tried to. It was more like a bloody dribble leaking out from the corner of his mouth along with a dislodged tooth. Sucking in a wet breath, he said something. A phrase. It sounded like Spanish to Alister, but Alice quirked her head to the side with an eyebrow raised. He said a few more things before letting his head fall back against the yellow dirt with a low laugh.

“It’s a child,” Dorothy said from behind everyone. She still hadn’t stood up, but she had slid along the ground a little closer. “A Uto-Aztecan derivative.”

“You understand him?”

Dorothy shook her head. “I think it is Nahuatl, but I’d need to hear—” She cut herself off with a shriek, flinching away as she raised her arms to cover her head.

In the one second that Alister had taken his eyes off the sniper to look at Dorothy, the would-be assassin had pulled a gun from somewhere and held it in the same arm that had a knife through the shoulder. Tatyana had apparently not disarmed him thoroughly enough and now that gun was pointed at Dorothy. Alister dove to the ground, putting himself between Dorothy and the gun.

A third crack rang through the air as soon as his shoulder hit the dirt.

He didn’t feel a thing. He hadn’t taken a bullet through the mouth. His arms were fine, aside from being a bit sore from throwing himself to the ground twice in the same day, he hadn’t even felt something hit his vest. Looking back, Dorothy was unscathed. No bullet holes. No blood. The shot had missed… Or…

A thin trail of smoke left the barrel of Rafael’s gun. Alice kicked away the sniper’s pistol, but it didn’t matter anymore. The failed assassin had a hole in his head the size of a two quid coin.

Alice didn’t look happy. She scowled down at the dead man before turning her scowl on Rafael. Alister could see an argument form on her lips, but she managed to hold back. She smiled and nodded before saying something in a conversational tone of voice. Rafael repeated it and the guard with a gun to Flash’s back aimed down toward the ground, though Flash kept his hands on his head for a few extra moments before finally dropping his guard.

“So, uh, what happened? I was being held hostage the whole time in the back.”

Alister shook his head, ignoring the man as he inspected Dorothy. “Let’s get you into the truck before anything else happens.” She nodded without a word and used his offered hand to pull herself off the ground. Her knees just about gave out, sending her clinging to Alister’s waist for support. He couldn’t help but notice just how much she was shaking. This life was not for everybody. Clearly, it wasn’t for her. And yet, that assassin had been aiming for her in his final moments and had almost certainly been aiming for her with his initial snipe.

Just what had she done to warrant that?

“There are four crates left to unload,” Alice said, addressing all of the Lunar Dial crew. “Then we are leaving. XO, get Dorothy in the truck. Flash, Mayhem, get in the back. I’ll be in momentarily.”

“Come on,” Alister said, helping Dorothy get into the passenger seat. She was a bit damp still, but that was just something they all would have to deal with. Being behind the bullet resistant glass was the safest place for her if people really were trying to kill her. Yet she clung to him, not letting go even after getting seated in place. “It’s alright,” he said. “This truck is armored. We’ll be safe inside.” It wasn’t a complete truth. The underside was better than nothing, but he would still be concerned about driving over any kind of mine or IED. Still, if the assassins had bombs, they probably would have used them on the route over here. They clearly knew where to set up, after all.

That the Rafael and his cartel goons hadn’t opened fire during the confusion meant that they almost certainly hadn’t known about the assassin beforehand and weren’t working with him. Unless, of course, Rafael had killed the assassin to keep him from talking. Possibilities that could be considered later when they weren’t right next to so many potentially unfriendly guns.

He pried off Dorothy’s vice grip and made his way to the driver’s seat. He didn’t have to wait long for Alice. Soon enough, they were on their way. Dorothy, still trembling and clinging to Alice’s offered hand. Alice, staring off out a window with a deep scowl on her face. Alister just tried to keep an eye out for any suspicious objects or mounds near the roads as he drove them back to the city proper.

 

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Author’s Notes:

“¡No dispares!” — “Don’t Shoot!”

“Él no es uno de los míos, pinche tonto. No tendría mi propio francotirador disparándome.” — “He is not one of mine, stupid dick. I would not have my own sniper shooting at me.”

“Ударь его,” — “Got him.”

“Я привожу его к вам. Не знаю, как долго он будет жить.” — “I’m bringing him to you. Don’t know how long he’ll live.”

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