Water Rites (30 page)
Authors: Mary Rosenblum
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #General, #Collections & Anthologies
“Nita.” Carter crossed his arms tightly. “This Renny was lying. As for Greely, I have proof that he was involved with the people who dumped me in the Dry. He also sabotaged my car last time I was in town. I’m sorry, Nita. But the proof is real. He did it.”
“What kind of proof can you have?” Nita clenched her fists. “He didn’t do it.”
“I have photos and an eyewitness.”
Now was the time to tell him. “They’re wrong. Fakes,” she gasped, failing, failing. “I’ll bring you proof,” she said, despising herself in that instant. “I’ll bring you proof that those fields are real. If I do that, will you let Dan go?”
“If you can get me solid proof . . . it will make a difference.” Carter looked at her and looked away, doubting himself, doubting her. “I can’t promise any more than that. Dan might be safer here, Nita.”
“I’m not just worried about Dan.” Her voice caught. “I’m worried about you, too.”
He stood up suddenly, and she stepped into his arms. Their kiss was a hard and bruising sharing this time, full of anger, doubt, love, and pain . . . hers and his, all mixed up ant twisted together. She thrust herself suddenly away from him, tasting blood on her lip, trembling. He made no move to touch her again, but stood stiff and still beside his desk.
Someone tapped lightly on the door and they both jumped.
“Come in,” Carter said shortly.
Nita remembered the uniformed man who pushed the door open. He was the one who had found Carter that night up on the Gorge rim. His familiar, ugly darkness filled the office like a sour smell.
“What is it, Major?” Carter sat down stiffly behind his desk, frowning.
“We got a report from the team at the Shunt.” The man turned deliberately to stare at Nita.
“Say it,” Carter snapped.
The major hesitated just long enough to make his point. “Corporal Roscoe reported in, sir. He and his team spotted some suspicious activity in the hills above the riverbed. A hick fired a couple of shots at them and took off. The corporal is asking for permission to pursue, sir.”
“They can’t leave the Shunt unguarded.”
“By the time another team gets out there, the bastards’ll have vanished.” The cold eyes flicked to Nita and away. “I could have another detail at the Shunt inside of a half hour, sir. The hicks’ll never know there’s no one there.” Hot eagerness flared like lust in the man. “We could catch ’em.”
“No.” Carter stood. “Tell the corporal to go after them, but one man stays at the Shunt. Get the alert team out there pronto, and put a squad on alert in case there’s trouble. Armed, Major.”
The officer snapped a brisk, pleased salute and strode out of the office. Nita started after him, her skin dotted with goosebumps. He was so full of hatred. Was it her imagination, or had some of it been directed toward Carter?
“You have to go.” Carter was staring at the map on the wall. “If . . . you turn up anything concrete, come to the lower gate. The guard there will contact me.”
He wanted her to leave. “Who was that man?”
“Major Delgado. Why?”
“He . . . doesn’t like locals.”
“His brother was one of the people who got killed last spring.” Carter wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You have to leave now.”
“Carter.” She paused at the door. “Who betrayed you?” His lips tightened but he still wouldn’t look at her. “I’ll bring you proof,” she said, and fled.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
C
arter half rose as Nita left, then sank down into his seat again. Nothing more to say between them. Nothing. He stared at the riverbed map on the wall, not really seeing it.
Who betrayed you?
What had made her say that? He leaned his face in his hands, remembering the single spot of blood on the bathroom rug. She had always been so neat, Mom, so careful not to make a mess. Why this memory? Why now? He shook his head to banish the image. Could you call suicide a betrayal? He let his breath out in an angry rush.
His phone beeped. Swearing softly under his breath, Carter flipped it open.
“Hey, Carter.” Johnny’s voice came cheerfully over the line. It wasn’t a video connection, just voice. “I’m tearing through town,” he said. “Got time for a quick lunch?”
He
was
here. “I thought you were down in San Francisco,” Carter said cautiously.
“I had some official business with the general. Carter . . .” He hesitated. “I need to talk to you.”
“Can you come here? I can’t get away.”
“Damn. I’m on a tight schedule.” Johnny sounded harried. “This is important. Remember what we were talking about over lunch? Paul’s little theory?”
“Yes.” Carter frowned. “About a Corps link to Pacific BioSystems.”
“I can’t say more on a cell — but it seems to be in your backyard.”
Delgado? Hastings? “Who?”
“Like I just said . . .” Johnny cleared his throat. “Listen, we don’t have concrete proof yet, but we’re working on it.” His tone was guarded. “Watch your back, okay? I’ll let you know as soon as something breaks. It’s big, Carter. Keep that in mind, okay?”
He meant Hastings. “Thanks,” Carter said. “Oh, were you up at Dan Greely’s house this morning?”
“Yeah.” Silence hummed in his ear. “Who told you?”
“Nita.” So she had been telling the truth about that. “She said you gave her a ride.”
“So that was Nita?” Johnny was trying to sound casual. “She was . . . up at the Greely place. Is she . . . living there?”
“Yes, she’s living there,” Carter growled. “It’s a free country.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Johnny laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know anything.”
“Forget it. So what were you doing up there?”
“I thought I’d meet this local agitator face to face. It’s . . . part of what I was telling you about. I needed to check out a few loose ends.”
“Check out some things? What the hell are you doing, Johnny?” Carter swallowed sudden anger. “Playing amateur detective? People are getting shot around here, damn it.”
“What do you think it means to be a regional director for Water Policy?” Johnny’s tone was cold. “We’re supposed to be out here, in our districts. This isn’t supposed to be a desk job, Colonel Voltaire. This is my responsibility more than yours, remember?”
“I’m sorry.” Carter flushed. He had thought of Johnny as sitting at a computer screen reviewing other people’s reports. “I apologize. But let me deal with Greely. He’s locked up right here, as a matter of fact.”
“He is? Well, I guess I can stop looking for him, then.” The harried town was back in his voice. “I’m outa here. Watch yourself, remember?”
“I always watch myself. Thanks, Johnny.” He put the phone down slowly.
Hastings? He was big enough to make it worth Pacific Bio’s time, and he had access to every patrol schedule. Through Delgado? Maybe his dislike of Carter hadn’t been due to his unexpected promotion. Maybe Hatings had been worried that Carter was a plant, sent to spy. Had he been worried enough to shoot him full of drugs and ask? Whoever had grabbed him from the base had learned the schedules and routes to a T. Or had been wearing a uniform.
Greely could be the local connection. That fit, too, no matter what Nita wanted to believe. Cold inside, Carter touched numbers on his phone. This connection was a video link. His neutral smile felt stiff as a clay mask on his face.
The general scowled from Carter’s screen. “Colonel? Anything wrong?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Carter frowned, watching Hastings’ expression. “I have some news that I thought you should hear. A trucker claims that new fields are going in down in the Willamette Valley. “
“They’re not.” Hastings frowned. “The farms are hurting for enough water to keep the crops up off the ground as it is. You know how truckers talk. Is that all?”
“I didn’t believe it either,” Carter said quickly. “Not at first. But the woman involved says she can give me proof. If she’s right, sir, then there’s a cover-up going on. A big one, and we’re being had. I think it’s worth looking into, sir.”
“Proof changes things.” Hastings grunted. “What kind of proof and who is it?”
He seemed genuinely surprised, Carter thought. An act? “A woman named Warren, sir. She . . . didn’t have the proof with her.”
“Renny Warren?” Hastings waved a dismissive hand. “She owns the land Greely works and she’s one of the biggest black market operators in the Northwest. Renny Warren is slick enough to keep her ass out of jail, but I wouldn’t call her trustworthy. Not by a long shot.”
“I see.” Carter frowned. Yet another link to Greely.
“I guess I can’t blame you for being taken in.” Hastings reached for something out of range of the video pickup. “You didn’t know the connection. Did she tell you what she had?”
“No, sir. She’s supposed to bring it to me,” Carter said briskly. “I’ll call you when I get it.”
“If it checks out, call me. Don’t bother me otherwise.” He scowled, his expression faintly contemptuous. “I don’t need to waste my time on a wild-goose chase. I didn’t think you had the time to waste either. I’m glad you have everything under control out there.”
Carter clenched his teeth. “With the general’s indulgence, I am respectfully requesting permission to pursue this matter.” It would be damned easy to believe that Hastings was pulling the strings behind all this. “I think it matters, sir.”
“Do what you want.” Hastings made a chopping gesture with one hand. “Just don’t let any of those damn locals hole that Pipe. You got it.”
“Yes, sir.” Carter broke the connection. So Nita’s source of information had a direct connection to Greely. Carter leaned his chin on his hands and stared at the blank screen. All threads in this tangled web led smack to Dan Greely. Either he was the center of all this . . . or Nita was telling the truth and he had been well and solidly framed.
By whom? Hastings? Carter shoved his chair back and stood. Maybe he was just a bastard. It occurred to him as he brought up the day’s flow reports on his screen that he wouldn’t shed many tears if Hastings ended up in a court-martial.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
N
ita walked down the hall from Carter’s office, her shoulders drooping.
Jeremy was sitting on the floor near the main door, with Rachel asleep on his shoulder. “I don’t need your gift to know that we locals aren’t very popular here.” He got to his feet, careful not to disturb Rachel.
His unspoken question hummed in the air. “I didn’t tell him,” she snapped. “He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. So let’s drop it, okay?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Jeremy said mildly.
Nita pressed her lips together, took Rachel from him, and tucked her into her sling. He
wouldn’t
have believed her. It wouldn’t have made any difference.
Jeremy was disappointed in her. Nita stalked toward the gate, furious; at Jeremy, at Carter, at herself for being afraid. She almost welcomed the hostility of the uniformed men and women around them. The guard took their passes, his eyes cold, and waved them through.
“Now what?” Jeremy struggled to keep up with her fast pace. “What next?”
“He wants proof that Dan’s not involved.” She didn’t slow down, didn’t wait for him. “I have to prove that the new fields exist. I have to go talk to Renny Warren.”
“The trucker? I’ve heard of her.” He was wary. “She’ll be at the plaza. If she’s in town.”
“She won’t help me,” Nita said bitterly. Jeremy’s knees were hurting him and she finally slowed down, teeth on edge from his pain. “She doesn’t like Dan.”
“You can persuade her.”
“What do you want from me?” She swung to face him. “Why don’t you just lay off?”
Rachel woke up with a jerk and began to cry, kicking her feet and squirming in the sling. “No,” she yelled. “Not you, too. No, do you hear me, I can’t stand it.” She turned and ran. The stony ground jarred her feet and sweat stung her eyes, muddy with dust, salty as tears. Rachel screamed and struggled in the sling. Sobbing for breath, Nita finally staggered into the shade of the culvert. “I’m sorry, honey.” She scooped her shrieking daughter into her arms. “I’m so sorry . . . I love you.” She buried her face against her daughter’s rigid body. “I do. Rachel, honey, stop crying. It’s all right.” Only it wasn’t all right, and it would never be all right, not as long as she lived.
A green dragonfly popped into the air above Rachel’s angry face.
“Go away,” Nita whispered.
“No.” Jeremy leaned against the wall beside her, sad. “I remember when our milk goat had a crippled kid. From the water or the dust, my dad said. That kind of thing happens a lot out in the Dry. Deformities and . . . strangeness. “
Slowly Rachel’s angry wails subsided into hiccoughing sobs. She reached for the dragonfly, batting at it irritably at first, then grabbing for it with a tentative smile.
“I don’t want to believe that it’s the Dry that causes people like you or me to be born,” Jeremy said softly. “I don’t want us to be a bunch of dust-induced mutations. What if we’re the first sign of change? What if the whole human race is . . . adapting somehow? So that we can live with what’s happening, live through it? Instead of killing ourselves and the land trying to fight it?”
“What does it matter,
why
?” Nita said bitterly. “What difference does it make?”
Jeremy sighed and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Dad said that crippled goat kid wasn’t worth the water it would drink. It would never get around well — never be of any real use. So he took it out to the garden. He cut its throat with the big knife from the kitchen. He held it over a hill of beans, so that its blood watered the plants. I want us to be hope, Nita. Not mistakes.”
Nita looked sideways at the thick, gentle fingers on her shoulder. His father had thought about the knife when he was born. Jeremy knew it and that knowing echoed in his words. Nita closed her eyes, shivering. “I love Rachel,” she whispered. “No matter what she is.”
“Do you?” Jeremy turned her gently around to face him. “If you don’t accept yourself, you’ll never really be able to accept Rachel.”
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? Ask yourself, Nita, and listen to the answer.” He sighed. “Are you going to go see Renny Warren now?”
“Am I going to manipulate her into helping Dan, do you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Let’s go find her.” Nita straightened. “Right now.” She pulled her sunscarf from her pack and draped it over her shoulder to shade her daughter’s face.
Rachel yawned and Nita held her close, sweat soaking through her shirt like blood. The sun was still high overhead. Shadows were no more than slivers of darkness at the base of rocks, and the whitewashed walls of the Plaza Inn glared white in the harsh light as Nita approached. The faded red roof of the building had a scabby look. Fallen tiles littered the cracked asphalt beneath the eaves, and four semi rigs with triple and quadruple trailers baked in the asphalt lot.
“They look so shiny,” Nita murmured. “As if they’ve just been polished.”
“They probably have been.” Jeremy eyed the glittering chrome and black of the nearest truck. “Truckers wash their rigs. It’s a symbol. You’re doing pretty badly if you can’t afford the water to keep your rig clean.”
Nita looked at her distorted reflection in the gleaming door of the cab beside her. Washed with water. She remembered the precious minutes spent in Carter’s shower and wrestled with outrage. How did they wash these monsters? Coiled hoses hung on the side of the building. There was a tap on the wall, too, safely caged away behind locked, steel-mesh. Did they uncoil the hoses and spray gallons and gallons of water across the trucks, then let it evaporate in the sun? Nita tried to guess how much it would take to wash a single truck. Enough to wash diapers for Rachel for a month? Enough to wash them every time, instead of putting them out in the sun to dry until the smell got too bad? A puddle had collected beneath one of the hoses inside the enclosure. Nita’s toes twitched with the desire to walk through it, to feel the tickle of sun-warm water splashing across her dusty skin.
“That’s awful,” she breathed. “How can they do that?”
“I wouldn’t talk like that in front of Renny.” Jeremy smiled faintly. “Truckers have their own values. They can be a little . . . touchy.”
Jeremy was thirsty. Nita could feel it, but the wasted water and the spotless trucks didn’t bother him. Nita frowned, shifting Rachel into a more comfortable position on her hip. Sometimes it seemed as if Jeremy had no real allegiances. He could be friends with Dan and Carter and the truckers with their wasted water. Maybe because he really belonged to his green past? Not this dusty present?
“This way.” Jeremy took her hand, his smile warming his pale eyes. “Only the cops use the front door.” He pulled open a gray metal door with no markings. Cool air rushed out, chilly enough to make Nita gasp. “The rigs have good air-conditioning,” he said. “The truckers like it cool.” They walked into a dimly lit, windowless hallway. Doors opened in the dirty pastel walls every few feet. Metal or plastic numbers had been pried off the panels, leaving ghostly images behind. The grimy magenta carpet underfoot smelled of dust and dirty clothes.
“You know a lot about truckers.” Nita looked apprehensively down the hallway.
“I keep moving. Someone always figures out the projector scam sooner or later, so I don’t stay long in any one place.” Jeremy shrugged as he led her down the hallway. “I ride with truckers a lot. Some of them pair up, but you cut your profit that way, so they mostly drive solo. They’re bored and lonely, so they’ll trade miles for a little entertainment. They like my makings. I don’t have much trouble getting around.”
“Truckers waste water.”
“They drive through the Dry because it takes too much fuel to go around it. Big convoys are pretty safe, but you can’t always hook up with one. Hijackers get some. You break down, you’re prey for the salvagers.”
“Okay.” Nita let her breath out. “I’ll stop bitching. Maybe Renny’ll let me sit on the hood of her truck next time she washes it.”
“Don’t even joke about it.”
A door opened suddenly and a man stuck his bearded head out into the hallway. “You lookin’ for someone?” he asked casually.
It wasn’t a casual question. “Renny.” Nita blurted the name out. “Renny Warren. She said she was staying here.”
“Did she?” The man’s deepset eyes moved slowly from Nita to Jeremy and back again. “You friends of hers?”
“Nita is.” Jeremy nodded at her. “You’re Wasser, aren’t you? You gave me a ride from ’Frisco up to Portland a few months back.”
The man’s face went still for a moment; then his thick lips smiled in the carefully trimmed nest of his reddish beard. “I remember you,” he said. “They guy with the butterflies. How ya takin’ it?”
“As it comes.” Jeremy shrugged. “You?”
“Same.” The man jerked his head toward the far end of the hall. “Renny’s on this floor. Second from the end. Take it easy.” His maned head disappeared and the door closed softly.
“I think he had a gun. In his hand, where we couldn’t see it.” Nita eyed the closed door.
“Probably. Truckers don’t kid around. You don’t wander through here unless you’re invited. Come on.”
Second door from the end. Nita took a deep breath and tapped softly. Renny hadn’t scared her at the house. Down here, in this dim, dirty corridor, her pulse fluttered.
“Yeah?” The gemstones winked in Renny’s ear as she peered through the partly opened door. “Change your mind about digging dirt, babe? And who’s this?” Her eyes roved over Jeremy, dismissed him.
“Jeremy Barlow, a friend of mine.” Nita made no move to touch the door. “Can I talk to you, Renny? It’s important.”
“Why not? I’m awake and I got nothing better to do.” Renny opened the door wide with a single, tight swing.
Nita walked past the muzzle of the small automatic in Renny’s hand. For some reason it wasn’t as frightening as the gun in the hand of the bearded trucker. Renny would make sure it was a killing shot, Nita guessed, but she wouldn’t pull the trigger unless she figured she needed to. She looked around the room surprised. She had expected more grime, but the room was light and clean. A luxurious bed took up most of the space with a shiny, silky looking covering. An expensive flat screen hung above a polished wooden table flanked by chairs upholstered in rich, crimson fabric. After the corridor, the luxury took Nita’s breath away.
“So, why the visit?”
Nita sat down in the chair Renny pointed to, trying to gather her thoughts. Jeremy had seated himself on the far corner of the bed, obviously staying out of the way. “I wanted to know more about the new fields down in the Valley,” she said. “The ones you mentioned at the house.”
“Why?” Renny was suddenly wary.
Nita frowned, thinking fast as she bounced a chuckling Rachel in her lap. “The Corps cut the water flow in the Gorge. They said they had to do it to keep Valley crops from dying.” She looked at the trucker from beneath her lashes. Renny was leaning against a tall dresser, arms crossed, frowning a little. She wasn’t angry or even very curious. The yellow light from the ceiling fixture struck sparks from the chains around her neck and a trace of sleepy lust hung in the air. “I think someone’s running a scam,” Nita ventured.
“So? Danny got you playing politics after all?” Renny gave her a whip-flick glance. “Danny likes power games.”
Now what? “Dan’s out of the picture.” Nita used a tone of mild regret. “He got himself arrested.”
“Did he?” Hot emotion flashed and faded behind Renny’s benign look of surprise. “So why the interest in the irrigation water?” She raised one eyebrow.
This time it was a serious question. “Leverage comes in handy sometimes.” Nita smiled at the wiry trucker. “I thought I might try a career in local politics. My father was a name here, once, and the time seems about right.”
“While Danny’s in jail, you mean? You’re a sharp little bitch, aren’t you?” Renny’s laugh filled the room, too large for the small woman. “So good-hearted Danny took an operator under his wing, did he?” She grinned at Nita. “By the time he gets his ass out of jail, you’ll have his perch on top of this shit pile all sewed up?”
Approval. Renny understood this type of move. Nita gave her the small, sleek smile she expected. “I need to know who’s getting a cut from those new fields,” she said softly.
“Now that would be worth something, wouldn’t it?” Renny chuckled. “You’ll own someone’s ass, honey. Myself, I can’t see why you want to bother with this dumpy town, but that’s your business.” Renny crossed her ankles and leaned back on her elbows, sure of herself, sure of Nita, now. “What’s my cut?”
Nothing for free. Not from this woman. Nita made a show of considering, wondering what she would value.
“How about Danny?” Renny said softly.
Nita shrugged, listening hard to the resonances behind the trucker’s words. Careful . . . “Sure.” She made her voice casual, put
casual
into the slant of her shoulders and the curve of her spine. “Tell me how and when.” She felt Jeremy’s twitch of reaction. You wanted me to play this game, she thought sullenly. You shut up.
Renny was watching her, debating, trying to decide if Nita was acting or not. Rachel started to fuss. She wasn’t really hungry, but Nita lifted her shirt, the fabric sliding up over the curve of her milk-heavy breast, felt the heat of Renny’s stare as Rachel groped lazily for her dark nipple.
“Hell.” Renny smiled. “Danny’ll dig his own grave. He’s been working on it for years. No, I don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”
Nita’s skin prickled and she stifled a desire to bolt out of the room.
“We’ll make it an IOU and we’ll talk about it later.”
“That’s too vague.” Wrong thing to say, but it popped out before she could stop herself.
“Take it or leave it.” Renny straightened. “I don’t bargain.”
Game over. “All right.” Nita drew a shaky breath. “An IOU. After I get something I can use. Concrete proof.”
“Not an issue, girl.” Renny reached over to grab Nita’s hand, her eyes traveling slowly down her body, full of creamy anticipation. “What do you need? Names? Title transfers? All the sneaky little back-door connections?”
“Everything.” Nita let her breath out in a rush. “In hardcopy.”
