The Red Gulf

It was dark inside the warehouse with only a few dim lanterns. All the windows were shuttered, and every door closed to keep the light from escaping into the night sky. At least a hundred were inside waiting to go through the loading bay. No one could speak above a whisper. No one could bring luggage. Mary was clutching her mother’s leg and burrowing her face to hide from all the surrounding strangers. Miranda kept one hand on her daughter while holding onto her husband. His big arms were comforting. Marc’s brother, Anthony, and his family were in front of them in line.
Slowly the two families made their way to the third door of the loading bay. Anthony, Gabriella and Andre climbed into the bottom of the empty covered wagon. Marc, Miranda, Mary and four strangers climbed in as well. They were each handed a small vial.
“What is this,” Miranda asked.
“Sleeping potion.”
“No, thank you. We prefer to stay awake. She won’t make any noise.”
“Ma’am, I do not question your parenting. But the underground convoy is dangerous. One cough, one sneeze, one yelp or shriek of terror. You, madam, might find yourself screaming or your husband. Young, old, all in between. All it takes is one noise at the wrong time and everyone here in this convoy will be caught. You don’t drink it, you don’t go.”
“How can I trust we won’t wake up in prison or in chains before the Viceroy?”
“Question my integrity? You ungrateful…” His face softened when he looked at the terrified five-year-old. “If any of you are discovered, it’s human smuggling. I’ll be killed including everyone else taking part and our families jailed or forced on the vineyards. You can trust me because my family needs me to stay alive.” He waited for the ten to drink the potion. “Alright, in the morning they’ll load up the wagons with cargo and hitch the horses. Takes two days to reach Barber Town. Get a small meal, change any coin you got for universal greenbacks and off you go on your own. Follow the Borini Continental to the city-states, Territories, Angoria, wherever. You’ll be free.”
“Isn’t that town in Dugall,” one of the four strangers asked.
“Ten miles outside their borders in neutral territory. Good drop site. Dugall doesn’t care about the outside world and you’ll be going away from them, not towards them.”
Miranda grabbed the man’s arm and said with a grateful smile, “Thank you.”
The ten got on their backs and were squished shoulder to shoulder. Floor paneling was laid on top of them and nailed down. It was like being buried alive. No light. No outside noise. Only loud breathing all around them. The desperation and panic were palpable. The potion took effect.
A hundred refugees moved on foot after leaving the wagons in Barber Town but only got two miles before hearing the horns. The group scattered. Half tried for the goat path on the cliffs of the Greenbriar Land Bridge but were caught by the cavalry and their nets. Others ran into the forest that stretched all the way to Angoria but were set upon by hounds. The patrolmen shot bolts tipped with smoke grenades, shockers, and tranquilizers. Marc carried his daughter. The forest canopy blocked out the moon. They were constantly getting hit in the face by branches and tripping over rocks. Gabriella fell and broke her ankle but did her best to keep running.
“Catch up with your aunt and uncle,” Gabriella pleaded with her son.
“Go, Andre,” Anthony said.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“We can’t leave them,” Miranda was panicking. “He’s your brother.”
“We have to go,” Marc grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her along.
All anyone could hear was the barking of hounds, patrolmen shouting orders, sharp whistles, booming horns and the screams of fleeing refugees. It didn’t matter if they ran, hid or fought back. The hounds tracked everyone down. They were crammed into jail wagons and transported back to Barber Town. Miranda listened carefully to overhear the conversations and pieced it together that after three convoys the townspeople alerted the authorities. Mary was too scared to cry or ask questions.
“Viceroy’s gonna kill us…You insane, killin’ us is too quick…Be in chains working the vineyards…That’s a slow death for ya…Give us up to the Cadens for target practice, sex or…Sell us to the Combine…Ground us up as meat…We were so close…What we get for hoping for things…”
“Stop it, all of you,” Miranda snapped. “You’re scaring my child.”
One of the refugees looked down and said with his voice trembling, “It’s going to be okay little girl.” He looked away with eyes tearing up.
The silence was worse.
Instead of crossing back over neutral land into the kingdom they fled, the wagons took them miles into Dugall’s farmland. It was too dark to see where they stopped. When the clouds moved, Miranda read the sign, ‘Round Steer Ranch’. They were herded into an empty cattle pen. No cots. No blankets. No food. No water. No shelter.
“Mommy, it smells bad.”
“I know, sweet pea. I know.”
It was a working ranch and the cattle was moved only hours prior. The whole place smelled of rancid manure. Despite the large gaps in the fencing it was impossible to escape. They were surrounded by guards. All one hundred spread out in the pen. Marc, Miranda and Mary huddled for warmth. Anthony approached, picked up his brother and punched him in the face.
“You left us. You coward. I’m your brother. Never should have brought you in on this. Docks would’ve been safer. My family would be safe but—”
“Smuggling yourself in barrels is stupid. You would’ve been caught. And you still would have had to cross the same territory to reach the Continental. Don’t blame me for getting caught. Would’ve happened no matter what. And I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry but my wife and daughter come first.”
While the two were fighting, Miranda and Mary went to sit down with family. Miranda pulled back the torn pant leg to reveal bone sticking out of Gabriella’s ankle. Dirt and pebbles were embedded in the bleeding wound. They tore a piece of clothing to tie around the calf to stem the flow of blood. Andre was trying to make his mother comfortable. Miranda noticed her fourteen-year-old nephew kept holding his right arm to his chest. It was probably a hairline fracture.
Throughout the week everyone was pleading with the guards for water, food, and medical attention. Others begged for mercy and compassion. Several demanded to know why they were being held prisoner. It was all for naught. No one cared. Anyone trying to escape was beaten. Begrudgingly the guards eventually built latrines eighty feet away and extended the pen. Fifty-gallon water drums were sparingly set up around the fence perimeter to be refilled once a week. Twice a day they’d stand in line for a small sack of food and use the disposable cloth in the latrines. There was a shipment of limited medical supplies, which were never dispensed. The guards would randomly take three people now and then, but they never returned. Miranda read the sign on the building, ‘Slaughterhouse’.
The second week Gabriella was pale, clammy, and shivering but she felt hot to the touch. Even with help the pain was too great to make it to the latrines. She sat in her own urine and feces. Miranda went to remove the loose bandage over her sister-in-law’s compound fracture of the ankle. The skin was swollen, black, purple and red streaks were almost at the knee. It smelled like rot. Anthony returned with water and Miranda did her best to clean the wound. Three days later Gabriella was dead. The guards lassoed the body and pulled it out of the pen through the gaps of the metal fencing. Andre was inconsolable and went to fight the guards but was badly beaten. Both Anthony and Marc tried to save him but were beaten as well. Mary wouldn’t stop crying.
More people arrived every week. It was becoming overcrowded, so they started filling a second and third pen. It was no longer in the hundreds but by the thousands. It was getting colder every day and with no blankets the extra warmth from more strangers was a blessing. After a while, the guards stopped the weekly flushing of the latrines and started wearing masks. The whole place smelled of unwashed body odor, old blood soaked in women’s pants, sewage overflow, cow manure and the sick. There were too many people to hand out individual meals. Thick stew was poured into troughs and people were forced to eat like animals. Marc, Anthony and Andre were badly injured with broken ribs, fingers, noses and black eyes. Miranda did her best to care for them. Mary never left her mother’s side.
Winter on the ranch wasn’t as harsh as other places. Only an inch of snow would fall now and then. Temperatures only dropped to fifty at night, but the harsh wind made it feel like forty. Guards stayed in their shelters and only paid attention if someone tried to escape. Marc, along with a few others, knew how to make fire seals but without incantation ink they were only strong enough to keep people from freezing to death. Out of desperation people were developing raw magic on their own. Marc and the others secretly taught the fledgling mages.
The ranch was in a stir when someone of importance arrived. Miranda heard the guards call him ‘Colonel Vega’. He walked with pride and arms always folded behind his back. The coast guard was the closest thing Dugall had to a military. He wore a red and gold uniform. His lapels were black with a gold fang. He had wavy black hair combed back. His movements were sharp, and he kept snapping his heels. There was a base near the village where Miranda used to live. She can tell the difference between a real officer and someone just playing at it.
The colonel listened to their pleas for mercy and addressed the thousands, “My most glorious King Philip. In his mercy, twenty are granted citizenship per year but that is not enough. You come in droves into our land and attack our people. We feed, clothe and shelter you, but that is not enough. You demand better quality but who are you to demand anything? We give you right to speak but that is not enough. You preach heresy and other religions knowing full well ours is the one true faith. We give you the greatest honor of working in our glorious realm but that is not enough. You demand unions, equal pay, more and more regulations. Any kindness is your employers’ to bestow. No worker is equal to another. No citizen is equal to the other. Dugall, we fight for what is ours. Dugall, we claim it. Weakness is to be culled, not protected. You seek to destroy us. I show you mercy bringing you here, but you plot magic attacks to kill my men. Nothing is good enough for you. You holy filth always wanting more. Insurrection will not be tolerated.”
Guards cast magic detection spells over all the pens and the ranchers begin lassoing those that glow. Anthony and Miranda tried hiding Marc and Andre. Marc held Miranda’s face pressing their foreheads together.
He kept repeating, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Anthony saw the rope and said, “Marc.”
Marc pushed Miranda out of the way as his neck was lassoed. New to magic Andre was too weak and his glow too faint for the ranchers to see amongst the crowd. It looked to be around three hundred were brought forward and forced on their knees in three rows. A hundred coast guard came with the colonel wearing red and gold uniforms. They stood behind the last row carrying long metal rods of some sort. Miranda had never seen such contraptions before and didn’t know what they were. The command was given and with a puff of smoke a hundred deafening bangs cracked the night air and a hundred instantly fell dead. Everyone screamed at the new weapon on display. Another command and the second row fell, then the first. Miranda wept uncontrollably in Anthony’s arms.
“Sir,” captain of the guard asked, “is the envoy from Healing Waters really coming here?”
“Prince Charles ordered it.”
“The prince? Sir, I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have the clearance to understand. Hose them down.”
Everyone was ordered to strip and toss their tattered rags. The guards surrounded the cattle pens with high pressured hoses and sprayed everyone down while cleaning out the filth to some degree. Most of the mess was still there but pushed out of sight. They were given new rags. Middle of winter and they were soaking wet. A few froze to death. Nearly everyone was coughing and sneezing. The three hundred bodies were dragged away into the slaughterhouse.
The envoy arrived. Miranda watched his laughing, joking, animated face turn deadpan at the sight of the cattle pens. The colonel tried to give a tour, but it was obvious, even to her, that the envoy was in charge at least for the moment. They spoke in Dugallese outside in front of the pens. It was an unspoken rule in the kingdom to always pretend not to understand Dugall language.
“The kingdom has broken the treaty by trying to invade but we will keep the peace.”
“You call this an invading army?”
“So far, they’ve sent thirty-seven thousand across their borders. We’ve only captured twenty-five thousand. What is that if not an army?”
“I call it an abomination. Our morality clause is extensive and in perfect clarity. We wanted to build a distribution center. My superiors will not be happy that we must look elsewhere.” There was no response and the two stared at each other for a second. “Ah,” the envoy smiled halfheartedly, “now I see. Inform your master there are consequences for trying to use Healing Waters in this manner. We will not allow this conflict to impugn our reputation.”
“You should doublecheck with your master before threatening to pull out.”
“Please, your holiness,” Miranda cried out.
The colonel, guards and ranchers were shocked she spoke their language. Despite protests the envoy ventured closer. “I am not a…you do not call me…You need something?”
Miranda told her story and revealed the unethical treatment. She didn’t panic or raise her voice but was calm and collected. Her words rang true. The envoy’s face was filled with sadness, but he refused to get involved because it would only escalate the conflict between the two kingdoms.
“How can you do that? You’re standing here seeing our suffering with your own eyes. How can you refuse to help when you have all the power to make a difference? Your company helps millions all over the world. Why don’t you help our kingdom? Answer me…answer me…answer me.”
Over the weeks and months Miranda did her best to keep her family away from the sick. At first, it was only one or two, but infection was slowly sweeping the pen. Wounds were turning black and withering away to bone. Some were covered in puss filled bumps. Several were running to the latrines numerous times a day. Everyone smelled of vomit and diarrhea. People were coughing up blood. The dead were lassoed out of the pen before anyone got the idea of cannibalism. At the trough, Miranda saw a rat climb out of the stew but there was nothing else to eat except for the soiled food.
Everyone was sick including Mary. Miranda went to the fence where guards were playing cards. Instead of begging or sounding weak, she spoke to them like their own mothers would with a hint of disappointment. It worked. She got their attention.
“Aye, we have medicine but not enough for everyone. You see all the other children. What makes your brat more deserving than the rest?”
“Because she’s mine.”
He laughed. “Why aren’t you sick like the rest? Hmm. Alright, but what do I get in return?”
Miranda knew what he wanted but Mary’s life meant more to her than anything else in the world. Mary stayed with her uncle and cousin while Miranda was taken to the slaughterhouse. Through an open-door she saw blood being collected and human body parts getting turned into ground meat. They hosed her down and five guards, one after the other, had sex with her.
“You stupid whore.” After it was done, they laughed. “Make your customers pay for it before you give them the merchandise. This is why holy economics always fail. You’re weak. That medicine is for us, not for any of you. You stupid—speak of honor? Ha!”
She was thrown back into the cattle pen. Days later she had a high fever and every breath felt like a thousand daggers. Her bones ached. The five-year-old tried getting her mother to take her to the latrines but couldn’t wait any longer. She only got half way before collapsing. Someone else in the pen, a stranger, helped the little girl up and took her back to her mother. Mary was crying because she wet her pants, but Miranda comforted her. Weeks went by as Miranda watched her little girl wasting away and getting sicker. There was nothing she could do to save her daughter. Winter was over and the spring thaw brought rats, fleas and flies. One morning she woke up to rats chewing on her daughter. Mary was awake but unresponsive. She was dying but it would still take several painful days. Miranda cradled her in her arms and rocked back and forth. There was nothing she could do. She prayed for magic, she prayed for mercy, she prayed and prayed but nothing happened. There was only one thing a mother could do and that was to make the pain stop. After suffocating her baby, she wouldn’t let her go but two days later the ranchers lassoed the body out of the pen. Miranda started coughing blood.
A royal carriage arrived at sunset. There were two men. One with a lean body dressed in Dugall’s royal colors of black and red. The other had a bulkier physique and wore the same bright colors as other Dugall noblemen. Miranda always thought it strange she only ever saw the colonel, his men and visitors at night.
“My prince,” Colonel Vega said.
Prince Charles walked right past the colonel and grabbed the head rancher, “More of my wolves are reporting tainted meat. You’re supposed to be the best ranchers in the whole kingdom, but I can taste the rot in the blood.”
“Not my fault, your grace. Guards here refused to separate the healthy. They confiscated the medicine you sent us, thinking the small supply was for them.”
The prince snarled and let the rancher go. “Progress report.”
Colonel Vega escorted the prince to the pens to witness the horror. “I don’t think it’s wise to speak out here, your grace, they know our language.”
“We share a gulf,” the one dressed in bright colors said. “Of course, they know our language. Pretending otherwise is their way of insulting us. Don’t tell me they fooled you.”
“We need them to walk.”
“They can but wait any longer and they won’t.”
“Good,” the prince said. “Have them ready. We release them on the fifteenth of next month.”
After the royal carriage left, captain of the guard approached the colonel, “Sir, why was the prince here? Royals have no say in government. Why was he giving you orders? I don’t understand.”
Miranda watched as the colonel turned around and slit the captain’s throat then proceeded to bite the neck. Blood spilled down his uniform. The colonel’s skin turned pale, his eyes became piercing blue, had sharp fangs and his nails grew into black claws. The colonel’s men killed all the guards at the ranch but unlike their commander, Miranda thought they looked more like wolfmen and were feasting on the dead. The ranchers were left alone and glad they no longer had to pretend.
When the time came everyone in the pens were herded into transport carts and driven away from the ranch. Miranda kept falling in and out of consciousness while coughing up blood. Anthony was shaking from uncontrollable tremors. Andre was covered in boils and his fingers were gangrenous.
The sun had yet to rise when they arrived at the edge of the capital on the gulf. Those dressed in red and gold ran into buildings and were replaced by other coast guard wearing the traditional blue and gold uniforms. The carts drove through the city streets during the sunrise. Miranda found the sights and smells of the city repugnant. It was nothing like the kingdom. Nothing like the countryside. Pillars of smoke were everywhere and rose to a brown stained sky. Streets were small with buildings almost on top of each other. She had never seen a fat person before, but they were everywhere in the city. Their clothes were colorful, but the people were not. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong with them except that they all looked the same with no diversity. For all the colors and sounds the city might as well have been a blank canvas. Miranda saw huge crowds of angry protestors. At first, she thought the crowds hated the refugees but quickly realized they were protesting on their behalf. The crowds hated the prime minister and parliament for treating the refugees so cruelly.
The sound of crashing waves was soothing but the fresh cold air of the gulf stung her lungs. A coughing fit covered her hands in blood and lasted so long it buckled her knees. Her joints felt like broken glass. The carts stopped at the docks and thirty-one thousand diseased prisoners were loaded onto the top deck of several ferries. Men, women, children, and the elderly were squeezed tightly onto the top deck to the point it was near impossible to move. Through the shuffling of the crowd Anthony got separated from his family. Everyone was getting separated and crying out to find their loved ones. Miranda, fearing she’ll lose her nephew, held Andre’s wrist with a death grip and wouldn’t let him go. The ferries began moving.
The windows surrounding the helm were tinted black but cracked open for fresh air. Miranda inched her way through the crowd towards one of the windows while pulling her nephew along.
“Is that Constellation…Crap…Why are the Sea Dogs ten hours early…Sir, they’ve locked weapons on Vengeance…Last report an hour ago had their flagship seven hours away from us…That’s impossible, those are ancient frigates powered by rudder and sail, they don’t have self-propulsion anymore…Sir, a fleet of civilian ships just crossed the kingdom’s barrier, they’ll be here in half an hour…But they’ve surrounded Vengeance…What is going on…Did you really think you could outsmart Admiral Gupta, Terror of the Seas, of course he figured it out what we were doing and now we’re screwed…No, no, we can salvage this, start dumping them.”
“Wait a second, no. Hey, stop, delay that order. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have direct orders from the prime minister to perform ship to ship transfers at ten o’clock and no harm is to come to the deportees. Dump them in the gulf? It’s five-thirty, the water’s freezing—”
Miranda heard a yelp cut short and a thud from a body falling to the floor.
“Congratulations, lieutenant, you just got a field promotion to major. What are you waiting for? Command your fleet. Give the order.”
Miranda cupped her nephew’s face and asked, “Andre, can you swim? It’s alright. It’s alright. Look at me, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We can survive this. Your father too. See the shore? Keep moving towards it. Get tired, float on your back. Don’t swallow the water. I love you.”
The coast guard began shoving everyone overboard with no regard to their safety. Miranda couldn’t tell if it was a fifty or hundred-foot drop but the freezing gulf swallowed her whole. Andre was no where to be found when she surfaced. Too many people were in the water. The salt was stinging her wounds. She couldn’t get her bearings. Panic was setting in from waves thrashing her about and water filling her lungs.
Thousands of frightened people were being shoved overboard to their deaths. The water was changing colors from all the blood and filth. She couldn’t feel her limbs anymore as it got harder to move. The current would pull her under but each time she’d fight back to the surface. The royal navy had arrived. All her life she’s heard that people see hallucinations right before dying. Suddenly she was pulled underneath by someone grabbing her ankle, but she couldn’t shake the death grip. Further she sank. Her lungs bursting. She looked around, panicking, and saw hundreds of black shadows swimming under the crowd. They were grabbing everyone that was sinking to the bottom of the gulf. The last thing she saw was one of the shadows swimming towards her.