Ruse

By Alfredo Mujica

RUSE is the story of Claire, a girl who gets into a motorcycle accident and is, one year later, introduced to a world of intrigue, secrecy, and factions trying to shape humanity's future. First book of the Dust & Ashes Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfredo Mujica
• Release date: Feb 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005324124

Alfredo Mujica

A publicist turned fiction writer because of fun, indulging in his passion for words and subversive stories. Is married and lives with a fat cat. Loves motorcycles and old cars. Resides in the tropics.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Cover Design: Laura Decán – Follow her on Instagram: @LauSanDec

Thanks to:

My spectacular wife. She’s my personal angel.

My family and friends. They have an infinite amount of patience, understanding, and love.

Max Griffin for being a really cool beta-reader at WDC.

Thomas Sweterlitsch for giving me advice when I felt like giving up on writing.

You, who are reading this

Introduction to Dust & Ashes

The Dust & Ashes Trilogy is composed by three books (RUSE, WAR, and CODA), each of which has their own companion stories. It’s a big fictional universe. The main novels are written in first-person point of view, with each chapter being written inside the head of the character mentioned in the chapter’s title. The companion stories on the other hand, are written in semi-traditional omniscient narration. Getting that out the way since it could be confusing. Enjoy the ride.

Oh right, I tried my best at illustrating what's going on with the dialogue by differentiating them by format, so if you get confused, here's a short guide:

Chapter title = Character’s Point of View

Normal typeface = Narration (POV thoughts or narration)

Double quotes = Spoken dialogue

= Mindspeak dialogue

#Numeralled and italics# = Background mind noise (other people’s thoughts)

PROLOGUE

December, Apapa Port – Lagos, Nigeria

It's a beautiful day, a beautiful day indeed. stated the Captain of the MV Olokun, Derrick Larsen.

It is, Captain. Soon as the loading finishes a wee after noon we'll be able to leave. replied his Chief Officer, Kevin Santino.

How's our apprentice doing? the Captain asked, barely displaying any interest in their newest passenger, picked with the container at the South China Sea.

Green to the bones. He seems promising though. replied Santino.

Weren't we all? Stakes are high, Kevin, even mooring here is a risk we take for our better future; aren't you ner- The Captain was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door, come in! he said raising his voice.

I'm sorry Captain, but we have a problem; NIMASA and the Police are here for an inspection. quickly said the newcomer, one of the Steward's Mates Captain Larsen confused all the time.

Larsen didn't waste a second. See Santino? It's all a risk. Very well, summon the apprentice here, and guide the inspection to all the convenient spots; we'll be just fine. Alright?

Aye Captain. For the return of our lord! said Santino while saluting.

For the return of our lord. replied the Captain, dismissing Santino who left the cabin with the Mate, leaving him alone.

Fuck... exhaled the Captain. And it's such a beautiful day too.

***

A few shy knocks on the door, followed by Larsen inside his cabin replying with a customary come in.

The newcomer, just a kid, only 16 years old, chosen for belonging to one of the longest serving families in the Cabal; born and raised with promise and a mission. Awkward, shy, kept to himself, discreet, and needing very little; lacking experience in any field except on matters of their society. You needed to see me, Captain?

"Yes, this won't take long. We have a small inconvenient but it doesn't hurt to be cautious; the Olokun is being boarded for inspections, so I'm going to need you to go to the package, lock yourself in. Here's the other key for the trigger; if you find they're forcing their entry... you know what to do. Still, we'll try to keep them away somehow."

But Captain... We're not at the target location!

I know son, I know. But if we're caught we won't reap any benefits, at least this way we can collect some souls; Lagos is a very populated place anyway. Not as much as we'd want but it's an advance.

The newcomer exhaled, the possibility for his life's mission to be fulfilled prematurely and incompletely, just because of some meddlers. Alright Captain, your call. I'll do the ritual inside and let's hope I don't have to use the trigger.

***

As soon as they heard the word inspection, Zhang and his partners scrambled below decks to find their weapons, the cash pack, and a place to hide. They didn't have any reason to be there except for having missed their chance to get off board. Enough money to last a whole lifetime doing absolutely nothing and free transport to the West, in exchange for just delivering one container, transfer it in the middle of the sea, and scuttling their already about-to-sink-but-not-quite rust bucket.

Still, being so close to the goal, just a few hours away from leaving port for America, and the Nigerians just happened to wish to inspect the ship. Well... he told his Chinese partners, we went this far, no sense getting caught alive, right? I don't want to share our payment with some blackie wanting a bribe, right? You don't either, hmm? his partners replying only with gestures and frowns, not needing any words to express their agreement with Zhang.

***

It's a simple routine, we make a few passes with the dogs, check for any irregularities, your documentation, and we'll let you be on your way, yes? a young officer, belonging to NIMASA, received the bunch of papers inside a folder Santino produced. While he talked a large group of armed policemen started boarding, some of them with sniffer dogs.

If it's simple, how come you bring so many aboard? asked Santino.

Big ship, lots of ground to cover, faster inspection. Trust me, with this heat I'd rather be in the administration building instead of on your deck, but... here we are anyway. Now if you don't mind I'll take these back for check-up and will return them once finished. It won't take long. Even before he finished talking the officer was already returning with a brisk pace to the trailer serving as a mobile office; the folder held steadily in his hands.

Santino just stood there, speechless; in all of his career he never heard of an inspection taking only a few minutes, and with these many policemen getting on board it wouldn't be feasible to just bribe them off board.

***

You can't enter this way. the Steward's Mate told the policeman who tried entering through the door leading below decks.

Excuse me? This is an inspection; all the ship gets checked. Now move out of the way. replied the policeman.

Sir. he had no other option but to let him inside. If the Chinese were clever they'd find some way to hide or leave the ship.

Come with me. obeying, his mind racing, trying to keep composure and fool the policeman by distracting him. Maybe it will all turn out fine and they wouldn't stumble upon the Chinese or their contraband. Maybe he could be bribed, from his arrogant attitude he kept thinking he was just trying to find any excuse to intimidate him into offering something, if only maybe he just said the word...

What's this? the policeman wondered about the cabin they kept as a retreat for rituals.

This space is reserved for prayers; some of our crewmen are very religious so this will let them practice in private, you know?

I see. the policeman didn't seem convinced but he kept moving along, opening doors and looking around inside. You seem to keep everything clean; I'm impressed.

Thank you. Yes, we try to. It's good for morale. replied the Mate.

But it's bullshit. said the policeman with a stoic expression in his face.

Pardon? the Mate was caught of guard.

It's bullshit. You don't spend weeks at sea and manage to keep everything spotless. This ship isn't new, you are all career merchants, it isn't normal and you know it. the policeman stated as a matter of fact.

I don't know what to tell you officer; but as far as I know, it isn't illicit to keep the ship clean. they kept walking, eventually heading down to the hallway leading to the mess and galley. We place great importance in discipline and order. Our crew is-

Stop right there! Who are you? the policeman raised his carbine when whoever he spotted didn't stop, and started chasing after them, eventually reaching the mess and galley. Unintelligible yelling in front of him in another language quickly let the Mate know he'd found Zhang and the others. Crap... he couldn't help but whisper, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. They're cargo workers, calm down, they're Chinese.

Then why are they yelling? Why are they arm- A single bullet went through the policeman's neck, his blood spraying the Steward's Mate in the face and uniform. The policeman's body fell limply to the floor, having instantly died.

What the fuck are you doing?! the Mate asked Zhang, clearly panicking, spotting the smoking pistol in his hand.

Shut up or I shoot you. And you guys, get the blackie in the freezer. Zhang stoically ordered his partners.

You know someone might've heard the shot, don't you? the Mate stated in a defensive, not threatening posture.

Don't think so. Now let's clean this up, you change your uniform and wash. We'll be below. Zhang put down his weapon while going for a mop when the door to the mess and galley opened again.

What's going on here? Put your hands up! another policeman entered the mess and the shooting started, the Mate got into a crawling position on the floor, covered the back of his head with his hands, hoping no bullets reached him. I need backup! at the galley and mess! they're shooting at me! after yelling through the radio the newly arrived policeman kept firing the carbine, not sure as to where Zhang and the others were taking cover. The 9mm hot brass cases falling to the floor, their clinking drowned by the sound of the firing.

Three more officers entered the mess from other passageways and tried flaking Zhang's group, but one of his partners grabbed a short gas cylinder and threw it at one of the officers. With the valve open, it only took a spark from a shot fired from that officer's carbine to make it explode.

***

Feeling a rumble below them, the rest of the policemen above decks raised their weapons and started gathering and suppressing the Olokun's crew. Even the Captain ended on the floor of the upper deck, his chest against the ground, and his hands cuffed behind his back. One policeman's dog started barking at an off-orange container set near the port side of the deck. That policeman noticed the oddness of that container: its door being unlocked and untagged. However, as he went to open it...

***

A fireball enveloped the ship and the ones nearby. The white flash accompanying it blinding anyone who were looking at the port's direction right at that moment even as they were a few miles away.

The blast travelled at least two miles away, a pressure wave destroying everything in its path, the air pushing back sweeping the remains, and a heat wave setting everything on fire. Nothing living within that radius would survive.

The amusement park near the port was flattened instantly by the blast; then swept away in the opposite direction. Being a Saturday, people, children, families, pets... thrown, crushed, burned, skins sloughing off, lives extinguished in an instant either by the heat wave, the shock wave, or the hurricane-like winds moving debris at deadly speeds.

A further couple of miles away they could survive - albeit with third degree burns all over, and having received a large dosage of radiation. The heat wave caused animals to have their furs combusting, running everywhere making sounds similar to babies screaming on top of their lungs, desperate, not knowing ways to extinguish themselves, frantically looking for ways to die quickly. Buildings and vehicles catching fire spontaneously, exploding when gas lines and fuel tanks overheated and ruptured.

The super-heated water at the port made the mushroom much bigger; the people at Lagos, once they noticed it, panicked and, confused, the city and towns surrounding the port were thrown into chaos. All order thrown out of the window because of fear, in a rush to run away people were trampled by a human current. Some took the chance to loot, not knowing anything electronic was rendered useless. Some others exploited this collapse of order to settle old grudges using practically unpunishable violence. Everyone taken in by what transpired. A nuclear attack, the first signal for the start of the end of the world.

The tremors from the explosion were felt even further away, letting the world know something had happened before the news broke about what would become known as the Lagos Calamity.

1. CLAIRE

February, Maine Medical Center – Portland, Maine, US

White.

Some pieces of dry paint falling down.

Black lines appearing where the paint is breaking down.

The ceiling that's kept me company during the hours when nurses don't come see me.

A year without sleeping. A year accompanied by the roof. The daily agony of counting the ceiling lines within my limited visual field. The agony of listening the nurses chatting between them when they come to clean and rotate me. The thrill of listening something new going on with them, or a new voice when someone joins their team. Just no empathy from them, they're just doing their job with a clinical precision. For them I'm just another patient, one more number, one more object.

Paralysis. Motorcycle accident. Very nearly an internal decapitation. No need for life support though. Pupil reflexes. Rotate to avoid bed sores. Eye drops. Keep the patient clean. Nasogastric intubation for feeding and hydration. Rinse and repeat.

Green.

Pastel green tiles. Nearly white.

A wall covered by tiles where the most entertaining thing is to watch the mold grow. Supposedly sterile.

Rotating isn't particularly difficult. Having just an arm, torso, and head, makes a body light.

Such boredom.

No one has visited me. There's no one to call. Total loneliness waiting to die.

Until now.

Black.

Tall, in shape, with a well trimmed white goatee.

Gold.

Many earrings in his ears.

Black.

A black leather jacket too heavy for this heat.

White.

A shirt half unbuttoned.

Red.

Some jewel dangling from a gold chain.

I never saw his lips move, his smile showing a disgusting golden tooth.

Does this guy know what I'm thinking?

He stopped smiling, a serious face showing on that timeless face.

He'll remove my organs, rape me, and finish me off to eat with pasta.

I could laugh at that. Pasta. Forgot the flavor already. My mom used to make a bolognese pasta with tomatoes that I would kill to have one more time.

Things. Do things. For someone. Without even be able to blink. This guy wants me as a sexual object. Not gonna happen.

Exasperation.

So little patience. I can see in his eyes I'm starting to piss him off. That's always fun. I feel kind of guilty though: First person in over a year coming to talk to me and I'm thinking the worst thing at first. Maybe I got a little lost within my mental prison. A brain prison, walls of wet fat surrounded by liquids and locked in by bones.

<... wet fat? Alright, let's do something, think about it, I'll go for a walk, you keep thinking about it. Once more, I assure you I won't hurt you, I'll take care of you, and you'll get out of here.>

Blue.

Blue jeans. Dark ones. I don't have the legs to show off something like that anymore. What would be that important for him to insist on getting me out of here?

Green.

Pastel green tiles.

Worst case scenario, I could get tortured. Raped. To break what little I have of dignity left and finally