Page 51 of Shadow Man
“Tell me why you hate Santiago so much.”
“Do youwantmore nightmares tearing up your soul? That man is pure evil.”
But it’s more than that. She said it was personal, and that kind of comment has rivers than run as deep as oceans.
“What didEl Asesinosay to you in the motel room before I came around?”
Her question sounds more like an interrogation.
“Let’s just say his body parts did most of the talking.”
At least it’s not a complete lie.
I wrap the blood-soaked towel a little tighter around my forearm and prop my elbow up against the door rest to keep it elevated. I know she wants more, but I’m feeling way too edgy to form a defense. Instead, we fall into a jarring silence. There’s too much tension in the car for it to ever be tranquil. She can’t stop her ghosts from haunting her. I can’t stop reliving what happened in the motel room with Joseph. When I close my eyes, it’s there waiting for me: The frantic need of my fingers, his hand roughly pressed against the most intimate part of me, the fierce possession in his kiss, my burning fever for more…
Two hours pass. The stereo stays silent. Music is even more of a vacant pleasure to me with half of Colombia on our tails. I doze, and then jerk awake a couple of times. My first and last thoughts are always the same. When I glance at the dash clock after a few rounds of this, it’s 5 a.m., and the horizon is a blizzard of pink and red. I’m getting that heavy feeling in my lungs again. The humidity has kicked up a gear, even with the air conditioning working at full blast.
The green road signs tell us we’re nearing Leticia. Vi doesn't glance at them. It’s like she knows the route by heart. Twice, we have to hold our collective breath as we’re guided through military checkpoints on the outskirts of town, but we’re waved through each time. The soldiers don’t look at us. They don’t even glance at the jagged line of bullet holes down the side of Joseph’s car. Vi’s paranoia must be infectious, because I’m getting a case of it too.
We push on, keeping within the speed limit as a light urban sprawl opens up and sucks us in. Leticia is much smaller than I expected. It’s set on the banks of the Amazon River with the rainforest serving as a vibrant backdrop to the town. Even at this time the streets are busy with a constant stream of scooters and motorcycles buzzing past us in every direction.
“Welcome to con city,” announces Vi, taking a left off the unpaved streets and driving on for a couple of miles out through the other side of town and back onto roads that box us in with towering palm trees and great swathes of green. “As in ex-convict city,” she clarifies with a frown. “This place is crawling with former drug traffickers and guerrillas, all tucked away counting their dirty dollars.”
“How can such beauty conceal such sin?” I say, taking in the gorgeous vegetation, and thinking about Joseph again.
“Blame the rainforest climate. It washes away the evidence.”
“Did you grow up here?”
“For a time...” I catch her glancing at the dash dials. “We need gas. There’s a station up ahead with a store. We’ve missed about a billion meals in the last twenty-four hours, which is like torture for us Colombians.” She shoots me a wicked side-eye. “Welivefor snacking when we’re not running for them.”
Her poor attempt at a joke has me breaking into a smile. My arm has turned into a throbbing pit of fire and I’ll take any distraction. “What do you recommend?”
“What, from this place?” She makes a face as we pull into the empty forecourt that’s more weeds than asphalt, braking next to a red and yellow pump that’s about a hundred years old. “Anythingnotcooked on the premises, okay? It’s no fun being on the run with food poisoning.”
“Bag of chips for breakfast it is, then,” I say, climbing out of the car. “I’ll get the gas.”
“I’ll go find a payphone.” Vi slams the door. “It’s been awhile since I last spoke with my aunt. She’s going to be pissed… Imagine the crap I’ll get when I tell her I’m a wanted fugitive.”
I laugh despite myself, watching her walk to the far side of the forecourt. She’s swinging from vulnerable to fierce again, with her hips swaying and her black hair fanning out in the early morning breeze. It doesn't matter that her white dress looks like it got tangled up in the thorns of her tattoo, or if her skin is more bruise than tan. The same charm that pulled me into her world is still working its magic. I’m still following her white rabbit, wherever it may lead.
I fill up the tank and make my way to the store. I’m not even sure the place is open at first. It’s hard to tell through all the yellowing flyers stuck to the windows.
The door caves in to the chimes of a bell, and there’s no warm hospitality from the guy sitting behind the counter. He barely looks up from his portable TV, and his grunt is a universal “go fuck yourself” in any language. Still, I can forgive him because his shelves are stocked with variety and color.
My stomach growls as I gather up as many bags of chips as I can carry. Tipping my purchases onto the counter next to his TV screen, I glance back outside to avoid his glare. There’s no sign of Vi, but another car is pulling up next to the second pump. “How much?” I ask in my shitty Spanish, and he points to the notes in my hand and holds up three fat fingers.
“My language skills must bereallybad to get that response,” I say, switching back to English, but he just grunts, pushes my chips away and resumes his favorite pastime.
I’m counting out the notes on the counter when the bell above the door chimes again. The new customer gets more of a greeting than I did, and a couple of gruff Spanish words are exchanged. I watch the old guy nod wearily, and then he’s slipping off his stool and shuffling off into a backroom. I don’t have time to consider the oddness of his actions before cold, hard steel is jabbing into the base of my spine.
Shit shit shit.
“You took a wrong turn into the wrong town,puta,” says a scornful voice. “Gomez might think he runs this territory, but Fernandez doesn't abide by the petty constraints ofLos Cinco Grandesanymore. You stray into these lands and you’re ours, little girl.”
His words spark a match to the gunpowder trail of fear in my veins.How much can one woman endure?Still, I chose this path. I chose to walk away from my protector, so I better be fucking convincing in getting myself out of this.
“Is this a robbery, mister?” I whimper, sounding weak and scared. “I’m just a tourist here on vacation… You want my money? Take it!” I lift up my hand to offer him the pesos.