- THE EMAIL TALE -

THE EMAIL TALE, Chapter One

a novel, by E-F Vinuela

- Chapter One -

Ciro van Guz, was a sergeant in the Foreign Legion that render heroic services in Chad, he survive the offensive of war operations impossible to describe and to understand well enough what happened there, one must know that this was not only a remote place, but also a dangerous and exterminating experience.

A friend, and comrade, lieutenant Reich, a german-born pilot, expert on all kinds of armaments, died near him in an atrocious way, beheaded by the steel splinter of a shell. Then he had to pick up his head and return to the base with it. He wasn't capable to just leave it there, abandoned as food for night animals...

That was the final push he needed to start geting out of there escaping the sickening ruthlessness of the Chad Legion. The horrible accounts of that place need not to be invent it. To survive, one was necessary to be capable to self tattoo hands with the red fire from the steel of the rifle. One become a scorpion or a mutant because it wasn't required courage or honor, any virtue was a drag. Those combats were not part of the Geneva Convention repertoire.

So because that muddy, filthy stuff he retired., abandoning his legionary name; returning to his civil identity of Dutch citizen. Ciro van Guz was his real name and now he was working as a security officer in the 'Derricks' guarding the digital system from the 'ZIP Corporation' machines that pumped Oil day and night on behalf of a United Nations projects in Iraq, receiving a huge pay because after the well known infamous invasion of Irak, nobody wanted to go there voluntarily, so his plan was to retire in a few years with a well planned pension, deposited faraway, in a tax havens country...

In that part of the desert the Zip Petrolium Corporation had a small steel shed for purposes of control his goals of production that served as an office . That day south of Baghdad temperatures reached 45 degrees Celsius, and the air conditioning system had stop working during the night.

A slim and nervous, van Guz dressed in his orange jumpsuit came in running and knelt in the middle of it like a time for ritual prayers. Then took out a bunch of keys, chose one accurately, and opened a steel casket embedded in a square of concrete. Then with a quick gesture he selected one satellite telephone, closed the tank again, adjusted the tile above and then composed a code number inscribed on the back...

-Mister Reichdon? van Guz asked with a sort of german accent.

-Reidon, Reidon! was an exasperate reply from the other side.

-Okay, this is Guz, Mr. Reidon!

-Go a head...!

-Kronos 38, stopped working 15 minutes ago...

-It can't be ...said Reidon, cautious, the Kronos 38 has

an online program with alert to our central plant in Istanbul.

-It's not about that…

-So what's about?

-The Kronos 38 continues to pump, also electronic system intact...

-Cut it out ! Reidon shouted...

-The Kronos 38 only pumps air, water with residues, no

Oil remains in the well...

-Impossible, not before 6 years !! said Reidon, now yelling.

-I don't know about that Mr. Reidon, I tell you what's going on

today, insisted van Guz.

-This is your first call? he suddenly change his tone voice.

-... I’m following the instructions Mr. Reidon.

For a few seconds the connection to the satellite was

interrupted...

Then Reidon's came again with a dull voice and then with a fiery commanding tone :

-Guz, go back to the Kronos 38, immediately !!

Disconnect the system and trigger the alarm,

our engineers would be able to follow from there...

-Mister Reidon ! do I break also the digital code? everything is drying up! and will not say the Oil it's over...

-Fast Guz! move fast !! ... Guz?...

Then the telephone link went off again, cut from the satellite

for a few seconds...

Guz, you here me ? -... At once ! return to the Kronos 38,

immediately!! Now !

The satellite stopped working,

- Yes sir, at your command, sir...

Then van Guz, full sweating, put everything back in his place, picked up again the bunch of keys, closed the case.

Then went running, jumped into his Jeep and speed away on the trail, letting behind him a very fine rain of yellow dust from the most awful and arid desert in the world.

A few minutes minutes later, in the distance of this empty space at the bottom from where the delta basin separates from Chat-El-Arab appeared a tiny bright spot almost imperceptible. A metallic color, that slowly was enlarging with a sparkling light against the deep blue sky.

But then, Guz didn't notice this, still driving fast, and now the object over the horizon, gaining a fraction of a millimeter in the space of a few seconds over the line of the mountains. What at first was only a contrast of brilliant aluminum now was transformed in a sort of solid thing, but Guz still wasn't realizing, and the jeep still jumping through the bumps following the trail marked before by heavy trucks that left only a drawing print on the broken plain.

But during one of those bumpy jumps, he finally saw the first flash.

A sort of burst at the rear mirror, and when he wiped out the dust, instantly got-it ! the flash was turning a close metallic sort of small plain...it was a drone ! and they were about to eliminate him, he cried loud, in rage .

Yes, his fatal error was that satellite call to the ineffable Reidon.

The Jeep was bouncing over the rocks. He compare the angle of the sun with the GPS glued to the front gear.

Holy shit ! it was coming for him. Then, fast, from beneath his seat pull a small 'portable link' to another satellite chanel, not related to the Oil Corpo.

-Las Palmeras Travel Lodge- said a voice in several languages.

-Room 301, said a screaming Van Guz-

-But 301 is not connected, answer the voice.

-Then the Palms Owner! reply Guz.

-Can I help you ? said a new voice after a few seconds.

-A drone is following, coming after me.

-Concierge ? Yes, we are with you on the secreen now, but belongs

to another service ! we are incapable to neutralize-it.

-Then ? Guz insisted.

-Can't do... nothing...not our model !

-Then what ! shouted Guz

-Follow the rule ! leave the place or they will sweep y'out !

With the satellite still connected and the voices echoes from room 301 he let it go under the seat. Now the Jeep was enveloped by a dense reddish dust and the Drone pilots were remote controling it from seven thousand kilometers away.

The machine lost height, incline one side and from the lower part where

stood a tiny ramp, a luminous object was abruptly fired with a long stream of foam, 120 meters per second speed, focus towards the reflective orange jumpsuit that Guz hung in the back of the Jeep.

In a few second the impact was precise followed by the noise of the explosion but attenuated by the vastness of the desert, and nothing else was seen at the distance.

Then the drone continued its route. Briefly changed direction, fly again over the place to check the smoking rubble, verified the total destruction and then moving away in the direction of Baghdad...

Now I would tell you in detail about what really happened when I was returning to the ZIP Corpo Wells on that terrible Iraq's desert and a mysteriously 'Drone' fired the rocket that exploded my Jeep.

He need to emphasized, that starting from there, everyone thought him dead and even the Oil'Corporation published a death notice in European newspapers -by the way- a very kind one...

What saved him ?

He was always wearing a Keffiyeh rolled up with a Kandora tunic, and a pair of sandals, which he had used it since his time in the Foreign Legion.

At first , about the Drone, he was incredulous! not thinking was coming for him, but then in a fraction of a second, he moved like a contortionist, managed to take off his orange-overall and throw it to the back seat.

Then he covered his chest with the cotton backpack and jump ! threwing himself into the sandbanks, rolled down bouncing the slope, meanwhile, up there, the Jeep continued forward leaving that fierce cloud of red dust.

At the same time, following his jump, the blow was tremendous but he finally stop rolling among a pile of rocks, the pain left him almost unconscious for a few seconds.

The plane over flew the place again. He took it long minutes until he was capable of recover. Now he knew with deep anguish that he had to disappear quickly ! But then he had no idea how or which direction to take, especially that returning to the ZIP Oil wells was impossible.

He did not remember when exactly the 'Drone' launched the rocket but believed that it only fired one, and that was like a huge dynamite blow.

At sunset, he rose slowly, nothing was broken only bruises. Took the Keffiyeh out of the pack, put on his sandals and then wrapped his head, covering his chest and torso, dressed in the Kandora robe, although trembling with fever, fearing that the damn Drone could be watching for him.

By then the sun was gone, the first stars announced a cool evening. So then he began a long march that take him to Istanbul...

(end of first chapter...)