Читать книгу Rita Royale - Terry Jr. Anderson - Страница 8

It was early November now and Rita was still staying with Buddy the cat at Bill’s house. Bill came back for a few days in October, but he hadn’t been seen or heard from since. He told her the militia was growing by the day. Thought perhaps they might not need him now because of his age, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. The power was on again. The coal plants working full time. The power lines repaired.

Moose Jaw was savage free, he told her. He said there may still be the odd ones hiding in the city but so far they hadn’t located them, but they would. Most all of Saskatchewan was now in the hands of the Western Militia, only pockets of savages in Regina, Saskatoon also, but a force was being sent to those places to rout them out. To kill them all. Alberta was pretty much the same. The West was getting organized very quickly under General Arnold’s control.

Heavy snow was falling on the valley today, the ground completely covered, the snow growing deeper by the minute. Rita sat gazing out Bill’s front room window watching the wall of white while smoking some of the tasty weed he had left for her. He said to smoke it all and not think about anything bad. Reminded her to give Buddy his treats every day, which she did. She and Buddy were becoming good friends and the cat followed her around when he wasn’t sleeping. Now that winter was at the front door, he slept more and more.

A white car drove into the yard. She wouldn’t even have seen the car except for the shimmering headlights, the snow like a curtain around the world. She walked to the door and waited for the knock. Slowly opened the door and saw the smiling face of her friend Sarah Smith. She held three bags in her small hands.

“Hi Rita.”

“Sarah Smith. You drove in this weather?” She stood aside and ushered her into the house.

“It wasn’t bad except the last little while. I found out where your sister lives and she pointed me here.”

“What’s in the bags?”

Sarah smiled. “Gifts. Stout from daddy. A knitted afghan from my mom. She said it will keep you warm. My parents like you. So do I.” She smiled. “And I got you these.” Sarah reached into a bag and removed a pair of moccasins.

“Moccasins?”

“I guessed your size. I got them in Moose Jaw last week.”

“They’re nice, thanks. You were in Moose Jaw? What’s it like there?”

“Pretty much the same. I did hear the Western Militia walked into the Legislature buildings in Regina and told some of the politicians to get the hell out. Their days were over. Except the socialist politicians, they lined them up outside and shot them. All of them. They’ve been hunting down and arresting the socialist teachers and school board trustees, university professors, some judges and lawyers, some in the media, other left wingers as well. There’s no more R.C.M.P. in the province either. Saskatchewan is under the militia’s control now. The Provincial Government is involved with the militia somehow. Some Army people too. I don’t know who the real boss is.”

“Really? Payback time.”

“That’s what daddy said too.” She sniffed the air. “I smell marijuana.”

“Buddy likes to smoke the weed.” Rita motioned with her head to the orange cat flaked out on the chesterfield.

“I see. Does Buddy have any more?”

“I can ask him.”

She shook her head. “You need to get out more, Rita Royale.”

“He’s smart. I’m teaching him poker but he’s not so good yet. He never knows when to fold his hand.”

Sarah laughed. She hugged Rita. Whispered in her ear. “I’m glad to see you.”

“Me too, Sarah. I’ll roll a joint. Have you eaten?”

She nodded. “There’s some pie from my mom too. She wanted to give you a bra as well. I guess she thought you couldn’t afford one.”

Rita burst out laughing. “Your mom’s funny. I like her.”

Sarah looked around the small cabin. “Is this your house?”

“No. Its a friend of mine in the militia. Its his house.”

“A boyfriend?”

Rita smiled. “No. A good friend. Like you.”

The two women smoked a joint, drank a bottle of stout and were soon feeling no pain. They talked and laughed like women do. Like friends do. Rita wore her new moccasins over her small bare feet. They fit like they were made for her. She loved the feel of the soft leather.

They drank more stout, ate some pie, talked late into the evening until they both released the occasional yawn.

Rita gazed at Sarah through red eyes. “I need to lie down.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Do your parents know you like women?”

Sarah looked at her. “I don’t know. I haven’t told them. How did you know I do?”

“They probably know, and I probably knew too.”

“Maybe. They never asked me, and I never told them.”

“So it was your girlfriend who joined with the Islam crowd?”

Sarah nodded. “I still can’t believe it. I sometimes wonder where she is now? But mostly I don’t care anymore. She’s one of them now.”

Rita looked at her with a pained expression on her face, the light from the lantern casting shadows across her eyes. “I don’t get it. From what Bill told me, Islam is killing the gay people. Your friend is misguided, I think.”

“I told her that. She wouldn’t listen.”

“I have bad dreams when I sleep.”

Sarah reached her hand out, placed it on top of Rita’s, caressed it softly. “I’ll help you.”

“I don’t think you can. I don’t think anyone can.”

“Why don’t you let me try?”

Rita stared at the familiar face, the straight perfect nose and full lips. Soft when kissed. A friend’s face. Why not accept some tender needed arms around her tonight? Why not let a friend soothe the beast of her dreams, where the blood runs through the window and under the bed and onto the carousel where the faces ride wooden horses on wooden saddles carved by elves and the blood rolls onto the covers of the bed and she awakes on soaking wet sheets. Why the hell not?

Sarah stayed for three days with Rita in the small cabin. Rita enjoyed the company. Enjoyed getting to know her friend better. Sarah really did help soothe the dreams. At least some. Held her while the images vanished from her mind. The faces on the carousel. She felt quite sad and alone when Sarah drove out of the yard and back to Thompson Lake.

Rita put on her winter coat and boots and went to visit her sister. Buddy never followed this time, instead he stayed curled up on the foot of the bed. When Rita entered the house, Karen was making soup in the kitchen.

“Well look what the cat dragged in. I was thinking about sending out the militia to look for you.”

Rita smiled. “I’ll just bet you were.”

“Did you and your friend have fun?”

“Yeah. I like Sarah.”

Karen studied her face, gave her a look. Said nothing.

“What was that look?”

She blurted. “You had sex with her, didn’t you?”

Rita opened her eyes wide. “And if I did?”

“A woman? You had sex with a woman?”

“We’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Can we drop this now?”

Karen looked at her. “Good idea. Let’s drop it. Are you going to see Sarah again?”

“I thought you wanted to drop this?”

“I’m just asking.”

“She’s thinking of joining up with the militia in the spring.”

“Is she? And you?”

“Maybe Bill will be back by then. If he is I might go with her.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Rita looked at her. “We’re friends. Is it so wrong for me to want to be held now and then? To have someone tell me I’m beautiful? To have someone to hold when my dreams wake me up in the middle of the night? Me, drenched in sweat. Is that so wrong?”

Karen relaxed some, shook her head. “No. Its not so wrong. Maybe I wish I had someone to hold too. That’s all.”

“I guess I don’t look at sex like most people do. What does it matter what the sex of the person is if you’re friends?”

“So you’re bi-sexual now?”

“I don’t know. Sarah’s the first woman I’ve been with sexually. Does everything have to have a name?”

“If you grew your hair longer women wouldn’t hit on you. Do women hit on you much?”

“Sure. Some I guess.” She thought about one of the waitresses at the bar in Black Diamond. Then there was the red haired teller at her bank. Even the woman who owned the trailer park had invited her in for a drink and made a pass at her. Rita shook her head, she liked her hair this short. She changed the subject. “What are you making?”

“Chicken soup.”

“Can I have some?”

Karen smiled. “Grab a bowl, little sister.”

Christmas Eve in the valley turned out to be a good Christmas for Rita and Karen. They went for a sleigh ride with a neighbor couple, Mark and Andi. A fun evening out in the crisp winter air. Not too cold. Nice weather for listening to sleigh bells ring, big furry horses clopping on the hard packed snow covered gravel road. Karen had met a man and he stayed with her in her house over the holidays. A militia man from Calgary. She met him in Assiniboia one morning. Quite handsome too, thought Karen. And so polite.

Sarah came and stayed with Rita for a few days after Christmas and the pair spent New Year’s Eve playing poker with Karen and her new man, Benjamin Brown from cow town. Rita cleaned up all the peanuts they used as poker chips. Her luck was still holding, she thought. The two dollar coin with the missing center still carried its magic.

Bill Alexander arrived home in late January, the year 2017 now. He took a bullet in his good leg in Saskatoon and after recovering limped home to St. Victor. He said the fight was going slowly but surely. Saskatoon should be clear of savages soon. At least he hoped that would happen. More and more people were joining the militia now. People were finally waking up to what the end result would be should they lose this battle for freedom. He also heard that ships and planes carrying Islamists from the Middle East were landing in Halifax and other cities and being shipped west to help their struggling comrades. Bill figured a big fight was coming down the pike. Luckily more and more conservative American states were helping to arm the resistance with modern up to date weapons and heavy armament. With any luck they’d send the savages back to the Middle East in bags, slices of Canadian back bacon shoved up their dead muzzie asses. That’s what Bill would do anyway. He hated them more than ever, though his fight was over, unless they came to his little valley, then he would gladly die fighting the evil bastards, he said, as he held Buddy purring in his arms.

About the first of February Rita moved into a suite in the big brick building owned by Mark and Andi. She did it to give Karen some space with her new man, and for her own space as well. And for those times when Sarah visited her.

Rita didn’t see Sarah again until about the middle of March. The snow still lingering, though the days were warmer now. She came in a small car. Came to get Rita and go and sign up with the Western Militia. Rita made her wait a day first. She still hadn’t made up her mind.

They sat sipping coffee, the day early, the dim light sneaking in through the windows, still light enough too see each other clearly.

“You have to decide, Rita.”

“Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Sarah smiled, squirmed on her chair. “You and me fighting the savages together. I can’t wait.”

Rita just looked at her. “And what if you had to shoot your old girlfriend? Could you?”

After a pause she replied, “Yes, I think so.”

I wonder, thought Rita. She doesn’t know what pulling the trigger leads to. “I’ll go with you, but I hope I don’t have to shoot anyone.”

“Do you think we will?”

“I think I don’t know what will happen.”

The pair left St. Victor in the afternoon, made their way to Moose Jaw slowly on the snow covered highway, bare in spots, slippery in others. It was late afternoon when they reached the city, the light dim, the skies cloudy, threatening. After passing through the main gate of the military base they drove to a building and parked.

Sarah sat still behind the wheel. Looked at Rita. “Well, I guess this is the place we sign up.” She watched two military men walk out of the building.

“I want you to go back home now. I’ll go in alone.”

“No. I’m coming in too.”

“Sarah, listen to me. This isn’t for you. If you go in there and sign up for a year, or two years, you will never be the same person. I would hate to see you become someone else.”

“You’re going in.”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“Don’t you want to be together with me?”

“We won’t be together. The minute you sign on the dotted line, you belong to them. They will likely place us in different locations.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t know that.” Rita stared at her pretty face, glanced out at the growing darkness. “Go home to Thompson Lake and look after your folks. I’ll come visit when I can.”

Sarah’s eyes glistened. “Why are things so hard all the time?”

“I don’t know. I do know you, though. I don’t want to you become someone else. Someone like me.”

“But I like you, Rita.”

“I know you do, Sarah. I like you too. Just the way you are now. I might not like you after you’ve killed a few people. You won’t be the same after doing that. You’ll lose the thing I like the most about you.”

Sarah sniffed, wiped her eyes. “I don’t want you to go in either.”

“I have to, Sarah. I’ve known this day would come. Now I have to face up to it.” She thought about old Joe Redbone’s words. Words from so long ago now.

“If I do what you ask, will you promise to come back to me? You have to promise.”

Rita studied her face, her innocent face. “I promise. I’ll come back just as soon as I can.”

The pair hugged each other for a long few moments until Rita gently pushed her away. She exited the car with her bag and rifle, closed the door, looked at Sarah one last time, smiled, turned and walked into the building.

The first person Rita saw when she walked inside was the face of Colonel Gilbert Knowles. He glanced at her as they walked toward each other in the hallway. He thought she looked familiar.

“Hello Colonel.”

He stopped walking, studied her face, her short cropped blonde hair. “Don’t I know you?”

She nodded. “We met in St. Victor one evening.”

“Ah. I remember now. Rita Royale.”

“I came to sign up.”

“Good. I want you on my team. Come with me and I’ll get you squared away.”

She walked with him along the hallway, glanced at the older man, at a blue crest on his arm that said simply, Badger Troop. She asked. “How long do I sign up for?”

“We’re asking for a year’s commitment at minimum. Two is preferred.”

Rita looked at him, said nothing, kept walking. They soon entered an office. The man behind the desk looked up, snapped to attention when he saw the colonel.

“Relax, Corporal. This is Ms. Rita Royale. I want you to sign her up and place her under my command.”

“Yes sir.” He looked at the attractive slender woman. Those green eyes. “Right away, sir.”

The colonel looked at Rita. “The corporal will take care of you. He’ll show you to your quarters. My office is just down the hall, Rita. If you need anything come and see me.”

Rita felt like she was in some strange dream world. She nodded. “Thank you, Colonel.”

He smiled, left the office.

Private Royale spent the next few weeks training hard with the others in her squad. They trained six days a week. She was the only woman in the squad, but the other men soon came to accept her as one of them as she never shirked her duties. Always tried her best no matter what was asked of her. They also liked having a gorgeous older woman around, as they were only in their early twenties. Rita was very easy on the eyes. The only person older than Rita in the squad was an American everyone called Sergeant Gill. He had left the U.S. after his time in the Army. He wanted to fight against Islamists and Sharia and everything the bastards stood for. He’d been to the Middle East and knew what they were. He called them the evil cult bastards. He reminded her of Bill Alexander in some ways. She also thought he was quite good looking.

The nights were the worst for Rita. After a hard day she would lay on her bunk in her own dorm thinking about how she would get through the next year. If she would. The dreams still came, though some nights she was so tired they stayed away. She liked those nights. It was the nights without dreams that made her push herself to the limit every day. She trained hard, fought hard, shot hard, studied hard. Learned about her enemy. Some nights she would lay back and think of Sarah and Wally and June. Of home made stout and knitted afghans. She wore her moccasins when not on duty.

There were some good evenings too. The times when some of the guys would play poker. At first they thought Rita would be a pushover. They soon discovered she could play. She usually left the game with more money than she started with.

Toward the end of April the weather had improved, the snow all gone, leaves optimistically sprouting from the trees on the base, birds could be heard chirping now, glad that winter had mostly left the scene. Rita was in her quarters packing up her gear as her squad was moving out in less than an hour. She knew they were going somewhere. Where exactly she didn’t know.

She rode in the back of a covered truck, benches lining both sides, sitting next to and across from faces she knew so well now. Friends even. People she trusted. Respected. A close group of nine including Sergeant Gill Douglas. All dressed in black from their boots to their knitted caps. Each carried an M-16 rifle, 9 mm pistol and other survival equipment. Rita knew her weapons well. Even the boot knife she carried. She believed the truck was heading in a southerly direction, though she didn’t ask her sergeant.

After a few bumpy hours the truck stopped at a farm and they were finally allowed to get off and stretch their legs and get something to eat. Sergeant Gill told the squad they would spend the night here. They could sleep in the barn on the hay. Rita could take the loft.

The farmer and his wife fed the squad steaks barbecued, potatoes, carrots, fresh bread and hot apple pie. It was dark when they finished eating and they were allowed to relax for a couple hours before hitting the hay.

Rita went inside the barn and climbed the old wooden stairs to the loft where she found a cozy spot and rolled out her sleeping bag. She lay on top of the bag looking up at the darkened planks of old wood, a dim light rising up from the floor below, hay dust hanging, sparkling in the still air. She heard someone climbing the stairs and looked in that direction. Soon saw the face of Diz. She thought it was probably short for Dizzy.

He looked at her. “Feel like a game of cards, Rita?”

“Sure. I’ll play.” She watched him leave the last stair and move onto the loft, followed quickly by another young man named Drew. He looked at her and smiled.

They quickly set up a table using an old wooden crate and sat cross legged on the straw covered floor. Drew produced a deck of cards from his pocket.

Diz looked at Rita, glanced at the outline of her large bra free breasts cruelly hidden under her black t-shirt. “I have an idea,” he said. “Let’s not play for money. Up for a little strip poker, Rita?”

She smiled, studied his young face. A face new to a razor. “You really want to see my tits, don’t you Diz?”

He grinned, nodded. “I really do, Rita.”

She glanced at Drew who just smiled. She said. “Okay. I pick the game.”

The two men nodded.

“Five card draw. Maximum three cards.”

Diz looked at her. “Okay. But let’s keep this simple. We only have three things to remove. Shirt, pants and underwear. No shoe laces and boots and all that. You lose three hands and you have to stand naked in your boots for a full minute.” He looked at her. “And the first item to come off is the top, then the pants and last the underwear.”

“Shirt, pants and panties.” She smiled. “Got it. Cut for deal?”

Rita put her hand in her pocket, felt the two dollar coin, picked up her cards. She had a pair of kings and some rag cards. She drew three cards. Diz took three and Drew took one card. She looked at the new cards, spotted the third king right away. They lay their cards on the table.

“Damn,” said Diz as he threw down his pair of jacks.

“Beats my nothing hand,” said Drew.

Rita watched them both remove their shirts, their lean mean fighting bodies. Very nice, she thought. She smiled at both of them.

Drew dealt the next hand. Rita looked at a king, queen, jack and a ten. All different suits. She discarded the two of diamonds. Hoped to draw a nine or an ace. She drew the ace. They lay down their cards.

Diz just looked at her. “How is that possible? An ace high straight?”

Rita smiled like a fox. “Just lucky I guess.” She watched them both stand to their feet and drop their pants to their boots and sit back down uncomfortably.

Rita dealt the next hand. She looked at a pair of twos. Immediately thought of Danny the deuce, her old friend. She touched her shoulder where the bullet scar lay hidden under her shirt. She drew three cards. Hit another deuce.

Diz threw down his cards in disgust. “No one can be that lucky, Rita.”

She looked at both of them. “Okay boys, off with the panties. I’m going to enjoy the next minute.”

They both stood slowly to their feet, reluctantly lowered their briefs to the top of their pants already down at their boots. They stood straight and tall, averted their eyes, looked up at the roof.

Rita whistled softly. “My my. What do we have here? I’ll have to study this situation closer. I just can’t decide which one I like better.”

They refused to look at her. Or each other. A minute had to be up by now they were thinking.

“Still thirty seconds to go.” Rita glanced at her watch. “Mm, such fine young pieces of manhood. I really can’t decide which I prefer.”

“Come on, Rita. Its been a minute,” said Diz.

She took a last look at their dangling bits. “Okay. Its a minute.” She smiled as they quickly dressed.

Diz stared at her. “One day, Rita. One day I’m going to enjoy watching you stand naked while I look at all of you. Especially your tits.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe about it.”

They heard the others enter the barn and Drew and Diz left the loft, climbed back down the wooden stairs. Rita removed her boots, still smiling, crawled into her bag still dressed. She put her hand in her pocket, felt the two dollar coin, removed her hand slowly, undid her fly and slid her hand slowly between her open legs, closed her eyes and let out her breath in one long motion.

The next morning the squad was fed a good breakfast of bacon and eggs and hot strong coffee. Afterward they all met in the barn together where Sergeant Gill was going to explain the operation.

“Okay listen up. You too, Diz.” The sergeant looked at his charge. “Just down the road about a klick or so, is a thicket of trees and brush on both sides. And in those thickets we’re going to wait for a van coming in from Manitoba. A van with guns for the enemy. Intelligence seems to think they’re headed for Regina. It doesn’t matter where, because we’re going to stop that van. I would like to get the weapons intact, but the prime directive is to stop it. Period. We may be in there a while and I want you all to stay alert.”

Rita raised her hand.

“What is it, Rita?”

“Where are we, Sergeant?”

“We’re still in Saskatchewan. Close to the Manitoba border.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

He looked at the others. “Any other questions? No? When we get to the spot I want a man with a launcher on either side of the road. I want us spaced apart and catch them in a cross fire. I’m hoping its just the van, but be alert for other transport as well. Remember. The mission is to stop them.” Sergeant Gill looked at all of them closely. “Okay. Grab your gear and let’s get moving.”

The nine members of the squad walked in single file along the gravel road, the morning cool, overcast, light flakes of snow falling, a wind coming out of the north. Rita shivered, buttoned up her coat all the way to her neck and pulled her knit cap low over her ears, all the while following behind another volunteer militia man. She thought about her dream last night. Wondered if they would ever leave her alone.

The man behind whispered to her. “Hey Rita. I heard you won at cards last night.”

She turned her face, smiled, kept walking.

“I heard you got an eyeful.”

The sergeant looked back. “Cut the chatter, O’Brien.”

“Yes Sergeant.” He smiled at Rita.

Fifteen minutes later the squad came to a halt. Five people were placed spaced apart on one side of the road and the remaining four opposite, but down a ways from the others. The van would be running a gauntlet.

Rita lay prone between two bushes, a clear view of the road. A good place to shoot from yet remain unseen by any passing vehicle. She could see Diz next to her about twenty feet away. He wasn’t looking at her, just staring down the road. The sergeant came up behind her.

“Everything okay, Rita.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

He crouched down on one knee. “Nervous?”

She looked at him. “No. Just cold.”

He looked around, looked up at the sky. “Yeah. Its cold. Anything you need?”

Was he flirting? She was unsure. Probably not. Not now. “No Sergeant.”

He stood up slowly. “Remember. When you hear my whistle, open up on ‘em.”

Rita nodded. She liked this man. He seemed sure of himself. A man she could go for under different circumstances. A man worth getting to know maybe. Maybe even love. Probably not. But who knows? She shifted her rifle in her hands, shivered, tried to get warm. Watched the snow fall. Looked at Diz, his black hat white. Guessed her own hat was covered in snow too. Without even thinking she put a hand in her pocket and felt the two dollar coin, pressed her finger against the hole in the middle, squeezed the coin in her hand. Thought about having to pee. That last coffee she guessed.

Rita was staring at the falling snow when she heard Diz whisper to her. She looked down the road and spotted a van followed by another van. Both moving fast, a tall dust and snow trail shadowing the vehicles, their tires throwing stones high in the air. She checked her rifle, took her aim. Waited. Watched.

As the vans grew closer the whistle sounded. Rita and the others began firing at the lead vehicle. Watched it get hit and flip over, slide toward the opposite side of the narrow road and into the ditch. The other van was stopped, the side and front doors open, four men running into the thicket firing blindly. Two of them were killed instantly but the other two managed to escape into the bushes with Sergeant Gill and another militia man on their trail. Rita stood up and began to follow. Her mind not her own. A robot’s mind that moved her body on instinct. She could hear the pop pop pop from the opposite side.

Rita was close to Diz and they now ran together on the gravel road hoping to cut off the fleeing enemy. As she ran she could see them off to her side, slightly ahead, running and firing behind them. They turned toward her and Diz and fired. Rita dropped to a knee and returned fire, her bullets hitting the first man, the second still firing in her direction. She watched him fall, shot from behind.

She turned to Diz who was laying on the road, his gun a few feet away from him. She moved to him quickly, saw the blood seeping from his chest. She bent low and touched his face.

“I guess I’ll never see your tits now, huh Rita?” He smiled a little, coughed, blood seeped from his mouth.

“You’re going to make it, Diz.”

He shook his head. “No Rita.”

Rita looked in his eyes, opened her coat, lifted her shirt high, her breasts large and up close to his face.

He smiled. “I knew they were perfect. I just knew it.” He stopped talking and stopped moving. Life left his open eyes.

Rita lowered her shirt, began to cry softly, heard the others come up around them. She just kept her eyes on Diz.