Chapter 4 Under the steel and fire

Chapter 4

Under the Steel and Fire

The cool silence of the jungle rubbing her skin like a balm. Although orders still rang and boots thudded behind her, they now felt distant, like echoes from another world. She sat down, hands on her knees, and tried to control her chest tremor. Despite the fact that she hadn't seen William in months, his voice was still strong in her bones. She continued to whisper, "Okay." "Okay."

She needed to reach him. not only to survive, but also to comprehend why Because if she didn't, the fire behind her would already devour everything. William Brown was a revolutionary at times. In fact, he once wore polished shoes and tailored suits, and his calm voice served as a diplomatic tool inside the country's parliament. William was born in Seleru, a border town, and grew up observing both the privilege of his father, a prominent lawyer, and the suffering of the Abere tribe, his mother's people who were denied land, water, and recognition. William lived in two worlds from the beginning: one with polished colonial architecture and afternoon teas, and the other with mudbrick homes, red dust, and the whispered songs of a culture that was almost gone. He studied political science in Washington, D.C., and then in Geneva, Switzerland, where he learned about how systems move, how governments dance behind closed doors, and how words can be more powerful than knives. He was a well-known advisor in the Ministry of Trade by the time he was thirty. He quit when he was 35 years old. The breaking point came slowly: a hastily signed land policy, unannounced bulldozer arrival, and the destruction of a village in the name of "development." William knew who they were. possessed knowledge of their names, hopes, and histories. He also knew that the people who ordered the clearance had never left the capital's paved roads. He said something. Beginning with letters. then in interviews with radio. After that, protests. Until he finally vanished. He had become a diplomat by the time he reappeared two years later. He was a sign. A man in field fatigues with no markings other than a red armband with the Abere sun and a call to liberation. His organization, KAMATA-Kinsmen for Autonomy, Memory, and Traditional Authority-started out as a small group of scholars and idealists. Displaced, disillusioned, and desperate people were now scattered across forests and borders. William was different for more than just his cause. He carried it the way he did. He refused to set villages ablaze. Refused to hire children as soldiers. His camps had clinics, schools, and a stricter code of conduct than most armies. William tried the man in the camp when a lieutenant of his shot an unarmed prisoner, and justice was seen to have been done. He was dubbed "The People's Mouthpiece" by some. Others, he betrayed his class. In the meantime, the government maintained a difficult relationship with him. Out of habit, some departments still referred to him as "Minister Brown." He was labeled a terrorist by others. He remained a channel, a backdoor into peace negotiations, and a safety net when everything else failed. Journalists, clergy, military generals, and lawmakers were among his contacts in the capital. He used them even though he didn't trust them. Just as much as the people did, they also needed him. Maria had observed this contradiction close up. Before being reassigned to intelligence coordination, she had been working under William for eighteen months. He spoke with a quiet intensity that caused people to lean forward. He talked less than he listened. Additionally, he spoke without pausing. She recalled nights in the field when he would sit by the fire with the younger recruits and recite lines from banned poets after long marches through mosquito-infested air. She remembered how he could calm down a fight without speaking up. She also recalled how he looked at her-not with desire, but with a strange kind of knowing-when he looked at her. As if he saw in her a resemblance to himself: broken ties, educated roots, and a greater cause than comfort. Maria was on assignment when she left the base six months ago. However, the look he gave her on the final day was not a goodbye; rather, it was something else. A warning? A whispered warning? When she didn't know, Even as of now, she was unsure. She was, however, certain of one thing: William would not lightly label her a traitor. Yes, he played games, but only with real stakes. Which indicated that one of two things had occurred. The information he received had been manipulated by either party. Or he was making use of her. putting her reputation at risk in order to attract someone larger and more dangerous, someone Maria had not yet seen. She disliked both possibilities. However, only one was meant by them. She needed to locate him. ahead of the others. because there might be eyes in the jungle. There may be suspicion all over the base. William, however? William was adept at hiding from a crowd. She would be unable to outrun him if he had truly turned on her. Camp in the shadows Maria moved around like a ghost, avoiding twigs and drawing attention with her boots as she moved from shadow to shadow. She could only hear the pounding in her chest and the buzzing of insects as she moved further away from the main camp. She sat down low as she waited at the old storage facility's back. a rustling. Next, another. A voice exhorted, "Don't move." Cold. Familiar.

Hands in the air, she slowly turned. It was Koro, William's commanding officer. a man with a lot of muscle, a constant scowl, and a sharp scar on his neck. He growled, "You're not supposed to be here." Maria calmed her voice and said, "I need to see him." "You have already. over the radio. "I need to personally see him." Koro drew nearer. "Do you believe that we are unaware of this? Maria, you are compromised. You might not even be aware of it yet. However, something is off. "That's why I have to speak with him." He didn't even blink. "Maybe you have already." Her blood became ice. "What's your point?" A small recorder was pulled out when he reached into his jacket. activated play. Static. Next, a voice. Her speech. "...The drop is fixed. Tomorrow evening. Use the flare in red. William will not anticipate it. Maria gasped for air. She whispered, "That's not me." Koro shook his head. "No?"

Her mind was racing as she stared at the recorder. She was being framed. They were also doing it very well. Koro stated, "You only have one chance to fix this." We are moving before dawn. I would find out who actually made that tape if I were you. Fast."

He made a U-turn and disappeared into the brush. With the recorder still hissing in her hand, Maria was left alone.