Tank's and Tucker's. Derek, Szabla, and Savage were going to meet them at the base.
Cameron slammed the back doors and leaned against them, staring up at the dark sky. 'Sunset was blood red today,' she said. 'Did you see it?'
Tucker nodded. 'Earthquake weather.'
He pushed up his sleeves, crouched and lit a cigarette, pinching the filter and letting it swing between his legs. For the first time, Cameron noticed the shadow of healed needle tracks running up the insides of his arms. Thin dark skids, most of them ending in the dot of a faded bruise. His flesh looked red in the glow given off by the brake lights. The asphalt was still shimmering from the afternoon rain.
Tucker inhaled deeply and sent a cloud of smoke down toward the pavement. It rose, clinging to his body. He glanced up and noticed Cameron's eyes on his arms. Protectively, he crossed his arms, pulling them to his chest. Cameron looked away uncomfortably, but when she turned back, Tucker's eyes were still on her.
Slowly, he uncrossed his arms, revealing again the pattern of scars. 'Been a long road back,' he said. He looked down at the asphalt, as if he could see his reflection in it. His voice wavered a little bit when he spoke again. 'It's good to get a second chance.'
Cameron pushed herself up off the van. Tucker did not look up. 'You're a good soldier, Tucker,' she said, though she wasn't sure why.
His head bobbed a bit with what she guessed was a smile. 'You ever had something you loved?' he asked. 'So much you couldn't give it up?'
He flicked the cigarette butt, and it sizzled out on the moist asphalt. 'No,' Cameron said. Justin came out onto the porch, closing the door behind him, and
Tucker rose and circled back to the passenger seat of the van.
Chapter 9
27 Dec 07
MISSION DAY 1
The C-130 banked and finally began its descent into the airport at Guayaquil. It circled twice, then made its approach from the east, sweeping low over the stretch of river where the Rio Babahoyo flows into the Rio Guayas. Cameron unbuckled and stood, leaning against the wall so that she could peer through the small round window out past the two prop engines on the wing. The water was muddied and thick with sediment, a wide rippling stream of rich brown. The earthquakes had induced landslides and rockfalls, which had clogged the river network, especially the drainages to the coast.
Square patches of factories and warehouses checkered the country-side, and up ahead, Cameron could make out the smog wreathing the city. Two of the runways were out of commission, having been split with large fissures, and men in orange vests ran back and forth between construction trucks, barking commands.
Derek and the others were applying sunblock and putting in their extended-wear, UV-protective contact lenses. Cameron sat back down and followed suit. Tank ran the lotion through his flattop like conditioner, rubbing it into his scalp. The soldiers also Velcroed solar cells to the shoulders of their cammy shirts, the flat batteries positioned like tiny officer shoulder boards.
The plane screeched to a halt on the tarmac, bouncing them slightly in the red webbing of the cargo seats. Derek stood, slapping his hands to his thighs. 'Szabla, you guard the pallets once we unass.'
She nodded, grabbing the M-4 by her side as the other soldiers disembarked. Red lettering stretched across the main wing of the terminal- Aeropuerto Simon Bolivar Guayaquil. The dead tufts of grass around the taxiway were baked brown and yellow, nodding in the breeze. The air was thick and slightly moist; Cameron could feel the humidity through her lungs when she inhaled.
Though it was still early morning, a wall of heat hit them when they stepped clear of the plane's shadow. 'Holy Christ,' Savage said. 'Don't this fuckin' beat all?'
Rex removed a Panama hat from his bag, unrolled it, and placed it with a slight tilt on his head. The sun glared off the tightly woven straw. The combination of the hat and his clothes-white shirt with twin pockets, khakis-gave him the distinctive air of a rubber baron in Malaya. In addition to a brown leather briefcase, he carried several circular nylon bags, padded and zipped shut.
Cameron was grateful for the fifty-percent nylon ripstop cammies- they were light and breathable, and the long sleeves provided protection from the sun.
Rex glanced over at her and Szabla. 'Hey, Thelma and Louise,' he said. 'Get your sun hats on.' He pointed to an orange electronic bill-board situated on top of one of the hangars: Minutos para Quemarse-
4:30. The translation was written beneath: Minutes to Burn.
Szabla grimaced and headed to the ramp to join Tank in unloading and unbuttoning the aircraft pallets, which held the cruise boxes, kit bags, and comms boxes full of Rex's GPS hardware. The cruise boxes, 3 x 2 x 1.5 foot collapsible cases of sheet metal, stored the general-purpose gear.
A U.S. army private jogged out from the airport, heading for the squad. In addition to his regular uniform, he wore the light blue beret and blue elastic belt of the United Nations. Derek walked forward, waving off the private's salute. They spoke for a few moments, then Derek signaled the squad to follow him.
The airport was in complete disarray, filled with uniforms and a few clusters of civilians. When Cameron stepped through the cracked glass doors onto the sidewalk, she was surprised by the crowd and the congested traffic. Though the earthquakes' effects were evident in the uneven pavement, buckling walls, and heaps of rubble, the life of the city went on. She realized she'd expected to find doors and windows hammered shut with planks like in some bad late-night movie about a plague.
A teenage boy scrambled forward and attempted to grab the weapons box Szabla and Tank were carrying, but Szabla turned, quickly slinging her M-4, and side-kicked him, hammering the bottom of her boot just beneath his ribs. The boy collapsed on the pavement, moaning. A nearby policeman, a clean-shaven man with a front tooth that was turned sideways, sprang forward and began screaming at Szabla in Spanish.
'You'd better back off before I straighten out that fucked-up tooth of yours,' she growled.
Rex, who'd been punching the numbers on his sat phone in frustration, trotted over and exchanged a few heated words with the Ecuadorian policeman. The policeman threw up his arms. Szabla set the box down, peering at the policeman over Rex's shoulder. 'I got more if you want some, you mother-'
Cameron drew Szabla back so Rex could finish dealing with the policeman. When Tank moved over and stood silently behind Rex, the policeman quieted down a bit. After helping the boy to his feet, the policeman stormed off. Rex turned to face Szabla, his mouth tight. 'He was just trying to help you with your things. Trying to get a tip.'
'He wants a tip?' Szabla said, pointing at the box. 'How about: Don't touch my fucking ordnance. I don't give a shit where we are. These are M-4s.'
'There are different rules down here.'
'No,' Szabla said, stabbing a finger in Rex's face. 'There are different rules here. When we get to the science shit, you can run the science shit, but for now, keep your mouth shut and your ass out of my way.'
'Next time, before you kick,' Rex said, picking up his bag, 'try 'no gracias.''
'Sorry,' Szabla said. 'I only speak French.'
'Then try 'non, merci.''
Derek walked through the doors with Tucker and the private at his side just as a chiva pulled up to the curb. The private pointed at the open bus with its thatched roof. He took one look at Derek's expression and shrugged apologetically. 'We're overbooked on military vehicles, and the UN takes priority.'
They loaded the gear and sat on the edges of the chiva, M-4s lazing outward on cocked arms, pointing at the open sky. The weapons were high-speed versions of M-16s, shooting 5.56 rounds, thirty rounds per magazine. Most of the squad had tricked them out with flashlights, scopes, and other trinkets.
Savage glanced down at the M-4, much smaller than the M-60 to which he was accustomed. 'Fuckin' pea shooter,' he grumbled.
'I wouldn't complain,' Derek said. 'It's a step up from a shiv.'
The city was gray and run-down, and the driver drove a mad winding path through blocks filled with
