Holy City: Chapter Five - Part One
Fontan walked to V’s cell as soon as Jannis left. V was lying on his bed face up, eyes closed, rigid posture, obviously awake and listening to the sound of Fontan’s footsteps.
“How was your night, Pvt. Fontan?”
Fontan looked down at the full bowl of stew on the floor. Like the previous night it hadn’t been touched. Only the water glass was empty. And there was no bread. Fontan still wasn’t sure if the prisoner was given bread each night.
“You still haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’m still not hungry.”
“How can you not be hungry?”
V opened his eyes and sat up. He didn’t look at Fontan. He looked at the empty water glass, the bowl of stew.
V didn’t say anything. It was as if he was debating whether to finally eat. Maybe this would satisfy Fontan’s curiosity, if he ate the not very appetizing stew that he didn’t want to eat while Fontan watched.
But V didn’t eat. He fell back into his bed.
“I didn’t tell the captain about your birthday.” Fontan’s conscience had been working on her throughout the night.
“So the captain lied to me?”
“Captain didn’t lie. But I wasn’t the one who told him.”
V smiled at the inherent contradiction in Fontan’s statement.
“I wanted you to know that I kept my word, I am an honorable person.”
“I know you are, that is why I trusted you.”
Fontan felt a swelling in her neck, quite different from the nervous tumor of the previous day. This swelling was like the feeling of great loss, it was the same emotion she felt at her grandmother’s funeral the previous year. She couldn’t explain why she felt this way, why she cared what the prisoner thought of her or even why she cared that this man lying before her was going to be sentenced to death by the end of the day. But she did care, against all of her better judgment, she did care.
Fontan looked down to the bowl of stew again.
“I don’t believe you’re a deserter anymore. Or a spy.”
V looked at Fontan. The private’s gaze stayed on the bowl of uneaten food.
“What do you believe I am, private?”
“I don’t know who you are or what you are. But you’re not a military man of any kind.”
“I am old. Perhaps I was once your age serving in the army like you.”
“But not now.”
“No. It has been many years since I felt the hatred that is needed to fight. I do not feel that hatred now.”
“I don’t feel hate. It’s my duty to protect my homeland.”
“Is Alexandria your homeland?”
“No.”
“Then why do you fight for it?”
“I mean, yes, in a way it is, in a way it’s the homeland of every Damasian.”
“Because it contains the Sebk shrine?”
“Yes.”
“It contains many shrines and many places of worship. Why is this shrine so important?”
“It’s not. I mean it is, but that’s not why we’re fighting, we’re fighting because the Republic of Vitesia and the Kingdom of Lyonesse are threatening to destroy it.”
“Those other nations say they are fighting for the same reason, that you seek to destroy their holy places.”
“We’re only protecting what is important.”
V looked to the small barred window. A shaft of light was fighting through the window like the day before. The sun always hit the window early in the morning. V took in a deep breath. He was glad his cell had a window. The fresh air of the desert isn’t like the fresh air of the prairie, but it was still better than the stale air of a cell.
“How did you walk through the Aten?”
“Very slowly.”
“Slowly?”
“That is the key. Most try to sprint through the Aten hoping the faster they move, the quicker they will make it through. If you sprint, you will die. The only way to survive is to take your time.”
“What about food, water, how do you carry enough to survive. The heat, how do you survive the heat?”
“I never said it was easy. I said you had to move slowly. It is still very difficult to make it through alive.”
“Is that why you don’t eat. Because you trained yourself to survive with little food and water to make the journey through the desert?”
V did not answer.
Fontan stared at V’s bare feet and the chains around his ankles. V’s shoes had been taken from him when he was first put into the cell. Fontan examined those feet trying to tell if they were the feet of a man who had walked through the desert. Where were the blisters, the calluses, his feet looked like normal feet.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Pvt. Fontan?”
“What?”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Yes.”
“Do they fight as well?”
“Yes.”
“How many do you have?”
Fontan stopped answering.
“I assume that none have died in the war yet?”
Fontan still didn’t answer.
“I don’t know how many siblings you have….” V stopped, giving Fontan another chance to answer his question and for some reason Fontan couldn’t resist.
“I have two brothers and one sister. We all serve. Why do you want to know?” The last sentence wasn’t a question, it was more of a threat. The warm feelings she felt towards the prisoner only moments earlier were gone.
V smiled at Fontan trying to reestablish their connection. Fontan purposely averted her eyes.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t have any brothers or any sisters, because if you didn’t have any siblings then you might be spared the pain.”
“What are you talking about?” Fontan’s right hand automatically moved to her M30.
“Four siblings in a war. You won’t all survive. Not this war. And the ones that survive, they won’t be the same.”
V stood up. Fontan took a step back. Her right index finger was now on the trigger of her M30. V took the three steps to the bars of his cell. The barrel of Fontan’s M30 started to move upwards.
V kept his hands at his sides. He didn’t want to startle Fontan. He was cautious, his voice quiet and low.
“When a brother dies, or a sister dies, I want you to remember me.”
“Why would I remember you?” The barrel of the M30 was now aimed at V’s chest.
V didn’t say anything.
“What are you talking about?” The barrel of Fontan’s M30 stayed on V.
V continued to keep his hands at his sides. He tried to lighten his face. But Fontan was still suspicious, worried she had misjudged this man. Maybe he wasn’t a deserter or a spy. Maybe he was just crazy.
“Your captain is at the door.”
“What?”
“He’s early today.”
The brig was silent. Fontan listened but couldn’t hear anything. She waited for a sound, any sound, seconds became a minute. This was the trick to divert her attention. The prisoner had set his plan into motion, Fontan needed to be ready for anything. She kept her M30 aimed at V’s chest.
“No one’s here.”
V closed his eyes and waited. Fontan listened for the sound of helicopters, the sound of airplanes. The prisoner was an advance scout, the raid was going to begin any second.
The door of the brig opened, startling Fontan. Her body jerked upward. Luckily, her trigger finger remained still.
Embarrassed, Fontan quickly returned the gun to her side. She ran to the front to greet the captain and Larkin.
Larkin wasn’t with the captain this time. There was a new MP. Her face wasn’t familiar to Pvt. Fontan, she didn’t seem like someone from the base.
“Welcome back, captain.“ Fontan said a little too informally.
Horace was not in a good mood. He stood in front of Fontan, the new MP at his side, waiting for a salute. “Is that how you greet an officer?” Horace said sharply.
“No, sir.” Fontan gave the best salute of her life to both the captain and the new MP.
The captain sat down in the cell. He kept his hat on as he fixed V with a languid stare. There was a mystery to the captain’s look. V didn’t feel he was being inspected and probed like before, the stare went through him to the concrete wall behind, perhaps even through the concrete and into the yard of the military compound where the soldiers did their morning exercises. Where one month earlier a dozen soldiers had been shot as subversives, as traitors to the revolution.
V looked to the new MP and back to Cpt. Horace. “We seem to be missing someone.”
The captain did not respond. He continued to stare at the exercise yard.
“Where’s Larkin?” V tried again.
“He’s at the front. Actually, on the way to the front.”
V nodded. Fontan visibly stiffened.
“One should be careful with what they say in the mess hall. Remember that Fontan.” The captain said this with a forced casualness. Then he sat up, his body grew in size as he focused on V.
“We both know why I’m here.”
“I thought you had made up your mind.”
“I still need you to say it.”
“Very well. I am a refugee from Alexandria. I walked through the Aten Desert to reach Damasia. I ask for asylum, I ask for help, for your help Cpt. Horace”
“I’m not the one to ask.”
“Then who?”
The captain didn’t respond. He readjusted his hat.
“Just tell me the truth.”
“I have.”
“You deserted from Lyonesse, didn’t you? You walked in to the Aten, probably hoping to reach Vitesia, maybe hoping to reach us, got lost, it took longer than you thought, somehow you survived, your partner did not, and Pvt. Fontan found you.”
“That’s a very impressive deduction, captain.”
“As a soldier from Lyonesse I’m sure you have important intelligence. If you tell that to me now we will spare your life, you will be given the asylum you seek.”
Horace turned to Fontan. “Give him your pad.”
“What?”
The captain took the pad from Fontan’s hands and ripped off the first two pages. He offered the pad to V. V reluctantly took it
“Give him your pencil.”
Fontan handed V the pencil.
“Write it down.”
“What should I write down?”
“First. Your confession. Second. Everything you know about the Lyonesse military, what battalion you were in, where they are currently located, how much artillery they have, tanks, planes, what part of the country you’re from, the mood of the people there, even trivial things like the most popular forms of entertainment. Everything. Everything you can remember. Everything you know. If you write this down, your life will be spared.”
“I cannot write these things down because I do not know them.”
“You betrayed your nation when you deserted, that act has already been committed. There’s no need for you to pretend now. Giving us this information will save lives.”
“Saving the lives of certain soldiers at the expense of other soldiers is not saving lives.”
“It will shorten the war. And that will save lives. That is inarguable.”
V showed a sad smile.
“So I will not argue with it.”
Next Chapter: Chapter Five - Part Two
Previous Chapter: Chapter Four