A Most Uncivil War Read online

  Raul puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No time for sightseeing. We need to move quickly.” Shaken from his stasis he lets the man’s voice lead him back. He focuses on Raul’s face, ignoring the tumult beyond him. The man leans in closer. “We go left. Stay close to the buildings and make sure you are within touching distance of me at all times. Are you all right? Do you understand what I am telling you?” Salvador nods his head and forces a smile.

  Reassured, Raul starts walking down the street. The simplicity of the command allows Salvador to ignore the kaleidoscope of activity. He quickens his pace to stay directly beside Raul. He doesn’t notice that one of his hands is involuntarily reaching towards the bottom of the man’s jacket. The young boy is able to avoid looking at the sea of men and women flowing around him by focusing on Raul, but against the din of the city, he is defenceless and it batters against his senses.

  They make good speed down the avenue and with each step Salvador is increasingly able to take in his surroundings. He lets his eyes scan the people and city as they make their way towards the docks. He notices how with each road they cross the number of soldiers and police lessens and the number of barricades increases. He notices how as they move further from the station the healthier people in their smart suits and dresses are increasingly replaced by more emaciated people in overalls and housecoats.

  As they reach the Windmill Theatre the noise of gunfire echoes down the canyon of buildings lining the avenue. Instantly, Raul throws an arm across the boy’s chest and pulls him towards the wall behind him. With his other hand he draws the revolver from his jacket and holds it hidden against the back of his thigh.

  Like a flashbulb at a dance, the people in the street instantaneously freeze. Several more gunshots ring out, placing the guns several hundred metres away. The living statues resume their motion as one. There is another flurry of gunshots from the same direction. Raul allows his eyes to pass across the crowds.

  The seconds turn into minutes. Eventually, the normal level of background racket resumes and the people go back to their rushing, albeit slightly quicker. Satisfied, Raul faces the boy. Out of sight of the passing crowds he puts the revolver back into his inside pocket. As he does so his eyebrows flash upwards at Salvador. “See, no problem. We are almost there.” A mischievous smile teases a glimpse of a dimple in his cheek.

  The contradictory messages coming from the world around him and the man leave Salvador feeling confused. He feels himself swinging between excitement and terror and then back again. He feels his heart pumping in his chest as they make their way down a side street towards a hastily thrown up barricade of bins, mattresses and carts.

  Four men are standing on the other side of the barricade in faded blue overalls and blue rope-soled sandals. Black and red neckerchiefs are the only splashes of colour in the garb. Raul holds out his union card in one hand and his other hand with the palm facing up to the sky. The four men lower their rifles back behind the barricade.

  One of the men squints his eyes and says, “Pepe, is that you?”

  A broad grin breaks across Raul’s face as he walks around the barricade. “Of course it is. Where are your glasses, man?” He throws his arm around the other man and whispers into his ear, “It’s Raul now.”

  The man doesn’t release him from his embrace immediately. “We thought you were dead or had deserted us.”

  Raul replies, laughing as he pushes himself free of the hug, “Never. A holiday in the country, nothing more.” Salvador stands transfixed by the conversation.

  Raul looks up and down the street. “I can see it is bad here.”

  The other man leans his rifle against the barricade. “Not at all. The bastards take so we take back.”

  Raul grasps the other man’s shoulder. “Good. And your family?”

  The man shrugs his shoulders. “Since you’ve been holidaying, we have lost a son and a mother.”

  The smile on Raul’s face disappears as fast as it had appeared. “I am sorry. We will make them pay. I promise.” He pauses and looks at Salvador. The young eyes, eager with anticipation, stare back at him. Raul looks back at his old friend. “I must go. I am only here for a day. Give your family a big hug from me.”

  The other man smiles and picks up the rifle. “And to yours.”

  Raul walks deeper into the shadows of the narrow buildings. Salvador trots alongside him, trying to keep up. Once out of earshot of the barricade, Salvador asks him, “Why did he call you Pepe?”

  Without breaking stride or looking at the boy, Raul replies, “It’s just a name some people know me by.” After walking for another two minutes and taking several corners in silence he pauses at an intersection to get his bearings. He looks up and down the narrow roads. “Nothing to worry about,” he says with an interrogative intonation as he looks down one of the roads. After a few seconds he makes up his mind and hurries down a side road.

  Salvador tries to keep up with the man but finds it difficult to stop himself from staring at the desperate people in the streets. A wave of guilt rushes over him as he watches the starving children begging for food on the corners. He sees old people struggling along the road, their tears having cleaned trails through the dirt on their faces. The smell of human waste hammers at his sinuses. The suffering terrifies him. Salvador wishes he is at home in his mother’s arms. He wishes she could make the images and the smells and the sounds go away.

  Seeing that the boy’s eyes are filling with tears, Raul tries to get his attention, “Don’t focus on their suffering; focus on what we can do about it.” He gently pulls the boy’s shoulder towards him. Salvador turns to face him. Raul continues, “Find your strength here, your resolve.” The man puts a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders. “This is why we fight, to put roofs over these people’s heads, to put food on their tables. Sal, these people are no different to you and I. That is why we fight. Because they are us.”

  Salvador can hear the man’s words and recognises what he is saying, but his focus is not on him. Two boys sitting on the kerb of the pavement, their bare feet flaked with dried excrement and mud, hold on tight to his attention. Raul gently pushes the boy forwards and continues down the street. “Come on. We must keep going.” Salvador allows the man to guide him down the street as the shame crashes against him in waves. He hurries alongside Raul, staring at the road ahead. His eyes are filled with tears as his sorrow turns to anger.

  Shortly after turning the last corner they come into a small square. In one corner is a café with mostly men sitting outside. On the tables are revolvers, coffee, cigarettes and beer; against the chairs, rifles are resting. Hanging over the name of the bar is a large black and red flag cut diagonally. Raul visibly relaxes. They walk up to the bar and several of the men at the tables smile as they recognise him. He walks between the tables and claps several of them on their backs. Each of them responds with a single word, “Good.”

  Raul points to an empty table a short distance from the door of the bar. “Sit there. Eat some of your food.” The man then makes his way through the crowd to the doorway while the boy makes his way to the table. Raul stops to speak to a woman standing by the door. He embraces her, points across to Salvador and says, “Will you keep an eye on him for me?” She smiles and starts making her way between the tables.

  The woman is in her late teens. Her coal black hair is tied back into a thick ponytail under a black beret. She wears the same clothes as many of the people in the bar: blue cotton overalls and a black and red neckerchief. The belt gathering up the baggy overalls around her waist has a holster and revolver hanging from the front of it. She doesn’t take her eyes off Salvador as she makes her way across.

  Raul enters the smoke-filled bar and takes a moment to acclimatise. The room is packed with men and women standing and sitting. The central focus of nearly everyone in the room is a table in the corner with four men and one woman sitting a
t it, and ten other men standing around the outside. Raul sees who he is looking for at the table. He makes his way across to the bar to wait.

  Salvador sits down with his back to the window, looking out across the small square. Within moments of him sitting down, the men and women nearest to him stop paying him any attention and get on with staring solemnly into the middle distance.

  The woman pulls out a chair and sits down at the table. She glances across the boy’s field of vision, and explains with a smile, “They are exhausted. Most of them have been awake for three days now.” He looks at her, self-consciously trying not to stare. She explains, “Pepe asked me to join you.” The boy smiles back at her, unable to think of a response.

  She is very thin and her figure is largely hidden under the folds of thick cotton. Her deep brown eyes are dulled by the yellowing whites surrounding them; her skin is dry and marked with oil and dirt. There is a feminine youthfulness to the beauty in her face, but it is overwhelmed by a seriousness hiding behind her eyes. Salvador struggles not to look at her.

  The girl speaks first. “My name is Caterina; my mother is Pepe’s cousin.”

  Salvador replies, “Excuse me, madam. My name is Salvador and I work in the fields with Raul. Sorry, Pepe.”

  The girl smiles and her full lips pull back far enough to glimpse her teeth. For a moment the sombre veil lifts. “Don’t worry, Salvador. ‘Raul’ is fine with me. At least I will know who you are talking about. And as for me, call me Caterina, Cati or Comrade,” she says.

  *

  The barman smiles a toothless grin at Raul. “Pepe, like the influenza, you always come at the worst possible time.”

  The two men lean across the bar to hug one another. Raul sits back on the stool. “How long have they been in congress?”

  The barman pours him a small glass of wine. “Don’t know. All morning.”

  Raul empties the glass in one gulp. “I need to speak to Paco. I will wait outside,” he replies.

  The barman takes the empty glass, “I’ll let him know when they are finished. Do you want me to bring anything out for you?”

  Raul hesitates before answering, “No, thank you.”

  Raul makes his way out of the bar and across to the table where his two companions are sitting in silence. He holds the back of the woman’s head in his hand and kisses her on both cheeks. “It is good to see you well, little cousin.” She smiles back at him and her beauty scintillates. Salvador finds himself drawn to her and lets his eyes take her in. Raul sees the boy’s expression change. He smiles to himself and sits down in the chair.

  The young woman starts summarising the recent events in the city. Raul listens intently. Salvador tries to follow but finds himself struggling with all the names and acronyms.

  Two men’s voices clamber above the background noise of the square and the people outside all turn towards the doorway. A man stumbles backwards out of the bar, crashing into one of the tables and knocking it over. Another man follows him out with his fists clenched. The conflict restarts as the two men’s fists resume thumping into one another.

  The crowd leap out of their seats, dragging the tables and chairs out of the way with them. Some people from inside the bar come out to watch, quickly forming a loose circle around the two men. Raul pulls Salvador out of his seat and away from the oncoming fracas.

  Salvador finds it hard to judge how much time passes as he, along with the rest of the crowd, stands watching the fight. The seconds pass and, eventually, blood starts to appear on the faces and fists of the two men fighting. After a few minutes the adrenalin of the two men finally gives way, exhaustion slows them to statues, and facing each other on hands and knees they gasp for breath. From the ring of people several men step forward and help the bloodied combatants back up to their feet.

  A man comes out of the bar and makes his way through the crowd who are repositioning the furniture. Salvador finds himself focusing on the man walking towards them. He has a thick, black moustache, greying stubble, a receding hairline and tired eyes. When the man reaches the table Raul stands up and kisses him on both cheeks. “It is good to have you back,” the man says.

  Raul holds the other man’s shoulders at arm’s length as if to take in his whole image. “It is good to see you again. But really good to see you.” He pauses for a moment. His tone becomes more serious, “You look exhausted.”

  The man smiles, puts his arm around Raul’s shoulder and starts walking him away from the bar. “We’ll go somewhere a bit more private,” he suggests.

  Raul looks back over his shoulder to the young woman and gestures for them to follow. She puts her hand on Salvador’s shoulder. “That means we are to go with them, Comrade.” Feeling her gentle touch on his shoulder, he turns to face her. On closer inspection he can see that she is only a few years older than him. They are the same height and for a moment he stares unblinkingly into the glistening eyes looking back at him. A wave of confusion washes over him as the adult desires in his mind start to wrestle with control over his teenager’s body. He smiles briefly and then quickly looks away, embarrassed. He feels his cheeks flushing with blood again. Her smile teases another glimpse of teeth. “It is nice to meet someone clean enough to see them blush,” she jokes.

  He feels the blush rushing like a torrent across his face. “I am sorry, madam. Caterina. Sorry, Cati. I have never left the village before and this is all very new to me,” he says apologetically.

  She smiles radiantly and her eyes glisten. “You are very welcome here.” She puts her hand on the handle of the pistol. “And you are not to worry about anything. You are very safe with me.”

  Recognising discomfort in the boy’s face, Cati looks away and changes the subject. “Let’s not get left behind.” The two quicken their pace to keep up with the two men weaving through the crowds ten metres ahead of them. Salvador keeps his eyes fixed on the barrel of the rifle on the shoulder of the man walking with Raul.

  After turning two more corners Salvador sees the two men turn into a doorway just ahead of them. When they reach the doorway they find Raul holding the door open for them. Salvador steps into the brooding shadow. Cati follows him but is stopped when the man puts a hand on her arm. He tells her, “We won’t be long and then I want to see your parents.”

  Cati replies respectfully, “Of course.”

  The four enter the man’s apartment on the second floor. His wife is hanging clothes on the line over the edge of the balcony while his two infant children are sleeping in a simple wooden cot in the corner of the room. Raul whispers a series of things into Cati’s ear. She focuses on the middle distance, nodding her head as she listens. Salvador feels a jealousy at their intimacy; he looks out across the courtyard at the shutters on the opposite side.

  Cati picks up two of the chairs by their backs and places them by the doors opening onto the narrow balcony. She sits down and gestures to the other one. “Come, join me, Salvador. You can tell me about the country.” He sits down beside her. She pulls a packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of her overalls and offers him one. Salvador takes it. In his peripheral vision he notices that the two men have taken seats at the table and fallen back into their muffled conversation.

  Cati leans forwards, holding the lit match in front of him and conspiratorially whispers through a smile, “They need to discuss things that are not for our tender ears.” He draws on the cigarette and the match flares for an instant, lighting up her face. He can see the reflection of the flame in her eyes and the umber glow warming her olive skin.

  She lights her own cigarette, unaware of his thoughts. He watches her lips close around the end of the cigarette and her mouth transform into a slight pout as she draws on it. She flicks the match over the side of the balcony and her lips tighten into a pout again as she blows the smoke out in a single jet. She continues speaking and as her words take form, the faintest wisp
of smoke dissipates from the side of her mouth. “So tell me about your life,” she says.

  Salvador looks out across the courtyard at the windows opposite and as matter-of-factly as he can muster says, “My mother is a maid and I have no father. I sleep in the stable and work in the fields. My life is very simple compared to yours.”

  At the table Raul overhears the boy’s words and half turns to glance at him. He only pauses for a moment before continuing his conversation, “They say that the warrants for my arrest are still open so I cannot stay for long. We travel back tomorrow.”

  The man sips from his coffee before asking, “So why did you come back? It isn’t safe for you here.”

  Raul looks down at his coffee solemnly, “I needed to see with my own eyes what is happening. Our members in the village are not ready and I need to know if this is really going to happen.”

  He stops to think as he flicks the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray. The other man prompts him to continue, “And?”

  Raul obliges, “And if this is not going to happen I will not send them to their deaths as an example for others to follow. They are not ready. They are farm workers and factory workers. They are not fighters, not yet.”

  The man puts his hand down flat on the table imploringly, “That is not your decision. They will decide when they are ready to fight. You can tell them what you think, what you have learned. What you can’t do is tell them what to do. You can make your case but in the end they must make their own decisions. It is them that will suffer the consequences of those decisions so it is them that must decide. You know this, Pepe, you have spent too long in the fields. The sun has softened your brain.” He winks at the other man as he concludes his argument, “Don’t worry, I’ll find you a cap.”