The Windup Girl

39

Pai is waiting for Kanya in her office when she comes bursting in. “Where are the men?” she asks, panting.

“They were formed up in the bachelor’s housing.” He shrugs. “We came back from the village when we heard things were—”

“Are they still there?”

“Maybe some of them. I heard Akkarat and Pracha were going to negotiate.”

“No!” She shakes her head. “Get them, now.” She’s rushing around the room, grabbing extra spring gun clips. “Get them formed up and armed. We don’t have much time.”

Pai stares at Hiroko. “Is that the windup?”

“Don’t worry about her. Do you know where General Pracha is?”

He shrugs. “I heard he inspected our walls and then he was going to speak with the Megodont Union about the protests—”

She grimaces. “Get the men formed up. We can’t wait anymore.”

“You’re crazy—”

An explosion shakes the ground. Outside, trees crackle as they crash to the ground. Pai leaps to his feet, a look of shock on his face. He runs to the window and stares outside. A warning klaxon starts to sound.

“It’s Trade,” Kanya says. “They’re already here.” She grabs her spring gun. Hiroko is preternaturally still, standing with her head cocked as though she is some sort of dog, listening. And then she turns slightly, her attention leaning forward, anticipatory. Another series of explosions rock the compound. The entire building shudders. Plaster crackles off the ceiling.

Kanya rushes out of her office. Other white shirts stream out with her, those few who were working evening shifts, or who hadn’t yet been assigned to patrol and containment on the docks and anchor pads. She dashes down the hall, followed closely by Hiroko and Pai, and charges outside.

The night has the scent of jasmine blossoms, sweet and strong, along with the smell of smoke and the tang of something else, something she has not smelled since military convoys rolled across the ancient friendship bridge, over the Mekong and on toward the insurgents in Vietnam…

A tank smashes through the outer walls.

It is a metal monster, taller than two men, jungle-mottled and belching smoke from its furnace. Its main gun fires. The muzzle flashes and the tank heaves back on its treads. Its turret swivels, gears clanking, choosing another target. Masonry and marble shower down over Kanya. She dives for cover.

Behind the tank, war megodonts rush through the gap. Their tusks glint in the darkness, their riders are all in black. In the dimness, the few white shirts who have come out to defend the compound stand out like pale ghosts, easy targets. The whine of high-capacity springs comes from atop the megodonts and then the chatter of disks slashing all around her. Concrete chips rain down. Kanya’s cheek opens. Suddenly she is lying on the ground, buried under the weight of Hiroko, who has shoved her down as more spring gun disks slash the air and crackle against the walls behind her.

Another explosion. The noise fills her whole head. She realizes that she is whimpering. Sounds have suddenly become distant. She’s shaking with fear.

The tank rumbles into the center of the courtyard. Rotates. More megodonts pour through, their feet tangled in a wave of shock troops also rushing the gap. It’s too far away to even make out which general has decided to betray Pracha. Scattered small arms spit from the upper stories of the Ministry buildings. Screams echo, Ministry people dying. Kanya pulls out her spring gun and takes aim. Beside her, a records clerk takes a disk and falls. Kanya holds her pistol carefully, fires a shot. Can’t tell if it hits her man or not. Fires again. Sees him fall. The mass of troops flowing toward her is like a tsunami.

Jaidee appears at her shoulder. “What about your men?” he asks. “Are you going to sell yourself so easily and neglect those boys who rely on you?”

Kanya pulls the trigger again. She can barely see. She is crying. Men are spreading across the courtyards, squads leapfrogging under covering fire.

“Please, Captain Kanya.” Hiroko begs. “We must run.”

“Go!” Jaidee urges. “It’s too late to fight.”

Kanya lets her finger off the trigger. Disks chatter around her. She rolls and scrambles for the doorway, lunges back into the relative safety of the building. Scrambles to her feet and runs for the exit at the opposite side of the building. More shells hit. The building shakes. She wonders if it will collapse before she makes the far side.

Memories from her childhood flood her as she jumps bloody bodies, following Hiroko and Pai. Memories of destruction and horror. Of coal-burning tanks roaring through villages, screaming down the remaining paved roads of the provinces in long columns before plowing out across rice paddies. Tanks running hard and fast for the Mekong, their treads tearing up the earth on their way to defend the Kingdom from the first surprise incursions of the Vietnamese. Black smoke roiling in their wake as they went to hold the border. And now the monsters are here.

She bursts through the far side of the Ministry and into a firestorm. Trees burning. Some sort of napalm strike. Smoke roils around her. Another tank smashes a distant gate, coming faster than any megodont. It is difficult for her mind to process how quickly they move. They are like tigers, streaking across the grounds. Men fire their spring guns, but they are nothing against the iron shells of the tanks; they are not built for warfare. The chatter of weapons fire rattles along with bright flashes of light. Silvery disks chatter all around, bouncing and slashing. White shirts run for cover, but they have no place to go. Red blossoms on white. Men are disassembled by explosions. More tanks pour through.

“Who are they?” Pai screams.

Kanya shakes her head dumbly. The armored division ravages through the burning trees of the Environment Ministry’s grounds. More troops are pouring in. “They have to be from the northeast. Akkarat is making his move. Pracha has been betrayed.”

She yanks at Pai, points him toward a slight rise and the shadows of unburned trees, pointing toward where the Phra Seub Temple may still be standing. Perhaps they can escape. Pai stares, but doesn’t move. Kanya yanks him again and then they are off and running across the grounds. Palm trees crash down in their path, crackling and flaming. Coconuts rain green around them along with shrapnel bursts. The screams of men and women being torn apart by the well-oiled military machine fill the air.

“Where now?” Pai yells.

Kanya doesn’t have an answer. She ducks as wood splinters shower her and dives behind the partial cover of a fallen burning palm.

Jaidee flops down beside her and grins, not even sweating. He peers over the top of the log, then glances back at Kanya.

“So. Who will you fight for now, Captain?”