Part 5: Carnival Fireworks

After another harrowing battle, Lopera proves once again the capabilities of a loyal, first-class Zeno soldier.
Lopera: Sandro ... isn't here either.
She paces back and forth across the creaky wooden walkways, idly picking up small items to throw into her cauldron.
Rodrygo returns after around ten minutes. Lopera sees him emerge from a corner, his face beaming.
Rodrygo: Look what I found!
Rodrygo grins, holding out a metal box dotted with colorful buttons and dials.
Lopera: A radio? Is it working?
Rodrygo: Luck is best saved for times like this.
Rodrygo: A shortwave signal like this should be able to reach anywhere in the whole world.
He places the odd-looking portable radio in front of Lopera, who is still staring at it with disbelief.
Rodrygo: I knew it was here. I've been to this village before. I sold them this radio in exchange for some redwood and caiman hides.
Rodrygo: Oh, and some jaboticabas—those things that look like the eyes of the dead.
Lopera examines the unusual machine. It's far from Zeno standard-issue, but with a little time, she's able to figure it out. Save for one question.
Lopera: What's the power source?
Rodrygo smiles and places a small crank between his legs.
Lopera: That's done it.
Rodrygo: It's a crank-powered radio. Works in any conditions. The only downside is, this old goat has to add a little elbow grease.
Lopera: We don't know the situation at the Zeno base. It's possible contacting them would just put a target on our backs.
Lopera: I need to contact Admiral Igor.
Rodrygo: Do as you think best, little birdie. Old Rodrygo will just keep cranking.
Lopera turns the dial, modulating the frequency at a specific point.
Lopera: Long, short, short, long. Hmm, then two longs together.
Lopera: It should be something like that.
After sending her identification code, Lopera waits, listening to the buzzing static and the drone of the crank.
Admiral Igor: Lopera?
Lopera: Father!
She second-guesses herself. The voice seems so clear in the moment. In the static, nothing else comes through.
Lopera: I can hear your voice. Can you hear me? Father?
Lopera: Hey!
Lopera: Rodrygo, what's going on?!
Rodrygo: I have no idea!
Rodrygo: All I can do is keep cranking. Crank, crank, crank.
Lopera: Father?! Can you hear me?
Lopera: Crank harder, Rodrygo!
Rodrygo: I'm working harder than a dog, girl!
Admiral Igor: ... sit ... uation ...?
There's no time to worry about the signal strength. Lopera divulges everything that has happened so far as clearly as she can.
Lopera: Zeno troops stationed in São Paulo have mutinied. General Carlos is presumed dead, and the rebels have joined with the Apostles Brotherhood.
The old radio struggles as it bridges continents, and like a fragile spider's web, seems unable to bear more than a few words at a time.
Admiral Igor: Zeno ... you ...
Lopera: Me? I remain on mission, looking for Sandro. Can you read me?
Admiral Igor: ... Sandro ... find ...
Admiral Igor: Be careful ...
Lopera: Find Sandro? Be careful of what?
Static drowns out the line again.
Lopera: Darn it! Damn this thing! Piece of s**t!
Bang!
Her attempt at concussive repair does more harm than good. The radio sputters out, and the line goes dead.
Rodrygo: Wait. Don't do that. You realize we can't get this thing fixed out here, don't you?
Lopera: Damn thing was useless anyway.
Lopera hangs up the receiver and turns away in a breathless huff. Their only means of communication is completely dead.
Rodrygo: Must be the humidity. The circuits are rusted to hell.
Rodrygo drops the generator, and approaches Lopera patting her on her hunched shoulders.
Rodrygo: Its work here is done.
Lopera reloads the spent chambers of her revolver as she moves toward the edge of the village.
Lopera: Mine isn't ...
Lopera: Come on. Let's go find Sandro.
Bang—
Another warning shot rings out, and a flock of colorful birds screech and squawk as they soar up above the canopy.

Bang—
The unbroken flurry of gunshots echoes both near and far, producing a mirage-like sensation in the depths of the rainforest.
Bang, bang!
Lopera strains her eyes, scanning for any sign of the shooters through the dense foliage.
Lopera: Darn it! Can't we fire off a couple of shots to let him know it's us?
Rodrygo: No go, little birdie. Sandro is a scrawny little thing, and as timid as he is tiny.
Rodrygo: Kid, calm down. He's quick on his feet—very quick indeed. Only thing we can do is move faster.
Lopera: Maybe we'd make more progress in a boat?
Rodrygo: No, one wrong turn, and you'll lose any chance of finding him.
Lopera: Tch. Then try this.
Lopera pops a few cocoa-powdered candies into her mouth and tosses a few to Rodrygo.
Rodrygo: Wait, don't do that! I thought I told you not to eat any old thing that popped out of your cauldron!
Lopera: Stop worrying. I'm confident about these ones. They should give you an energy boost.
He watches Lopera for a little while, and seeing no adverse effects, Rodrygo hesitantly swallows the energizing candy—his stamina was starting to wane.
Rodrygo: Oh, this is really ...
Lopera: How is it? Feeling a little lighter?
The man's eyes soften unconsciously, taking on a glazed quality as he looks back at her.
Rodrygo: Of course, but ...
Rodrygo: Nita ...?
Lopera: What? Who's Nita?
Rodrygo's pupils dilate. Lopera notices for the first time that he has light-colored eyes.
His hand weakly clenches and releases, and he suddenly quickens his pace, leaving Lopera several steps behind.
Lopera: Heh!
Rodrygo: Why now, of all times, do you enter my mind?
Rodrygo: No, my heart will always be open to you, my Nita. It's just that I'm used to seeing you only in dreams.
Rodrygo: Nita. Please, I'm doing something very important now.
Lopera: Stop running, Rodrygo!
Rodrygo: Yes, I will save him. I promise you.
Lopera: What are you doing?!
The aging man bounds over wet roots and mud with catlike ease, moving faster than Lopera, who finds herself bogged down and tripped.
Bang! A gunshot pierces through the air.
Rodrygo: Hm?
The gunshot seems close enough to be a warning. Rodrygo's pace slows.
The girl closes the gap between them, getting near enough to hear Rodrygo's breathless muttering.
Rodrygo: No, no, don't be afraid, Nita.
Lopera: Wait! Rodrygo, I think I've figured it out! You're not used to the side effects of these things; they can make you a little ...
Lopera decides on a method to speed Rodrygo's recovery, scooping up a handful of water from a muddy puddle.
Bang—
Rodrygo: No, that couldn't be a gunshot. Of course, it wasn't. This place is very safe, my little birdie.
Lopera: ...?
The girl freezes. The muddy water she was about to splash him with seeps out through her fingers.
Rodrygo: Of course. They're only celebrating the carnival outside. There's no need to be afraid.
Lopera: Rodrygo?
Rodrygo: Hmm, yes, I'll go get you a gift from the carnival, but you have to promise me one thing.
Rodrygo: Never leave this room, ever, or I'll have to lock you in.
Rodrygo: You can't go to the carnival. No, you must not leave, not tonight.
The remaining mud splashes down onto her foot.
Lopera: Rodrygo.
Rodrygo: Hmmm.
His eyes have grown increasingly cloudy, until they become like two indistinguishable pools of gray water, and then just as quickly the clouds recede.
Rodrygo: Epa, you fell over a bit back there, didn't you? Your hands are all covered in mud.
Lopera: It's nothing. Welcome back to reality.
Lopera walks ahead of Rodrygo, leaving him staring at her blankly as if in a trance.
Lopera: Come on now. We're not catching up to him in this mud.