Other information she found about the region was disheartening. There had been a set of mass graves near the town used by different forces in the long years of conflict between the cartels, guerrillas, and the government. Hundreds of bodies had been removed. Though the government had known about them for several years, they hadn’t been able to access them until just last year.
Ash wondered if that vision she’d had of the cliff and the ocean were in or near that village, but from what she could find on the internet, it didn’t look like they were.
So what was the connection between her vision and that town in Colombia?
“Earth to Ash. Come in, Ash,” Kiera said with a chuckle.
“Sorry,” Ash said. “What did I miss?”
Summer smiled and shook her head. “I was just saying that Lautaro has a B&B set on a coffee plantation. Since he’s friends with Sam, I’m sure you could get a nice discount.”
“That does sound interesting. Where in Colombia is his place?”
Summer told her. They searched it. “That’s not far from Valle de Lágrimas.”
“Valle de what?” Kiera asked.
“Valley of Tears.”
“That sounds awful,” Summer said, frowning.
“But look how beautiful it is. Maybe it was named that to keep visitors out so it stays nice for the locals.”
“Do you want to go somewhere tourists aren’t welcome?” Kiera asked.
“Well, we don’t know that that’s the case—“
“Oh my God,” Summer said, looking up from her laptop. “Did you see it had mass graves nearby?”
“Had. They’re gone.” Ash was surprised to realize she was defending the little village.
“I think you should go to Lautaro’s,” Kiera said. “It looks beautiful too.” She gave Ash a funny glance. “So tell me about Lautaro. I hear you met him.”
Ash grinned at Summer. “I think Kiera should go with me and meet him for herself.”
“No blind trip dates,” Kiera replied.
“But he’s gorgeous,” Ash said. “Rich. I mean, he has a coffee plantation, for chrissakes.”
“I agree.” Summer straightened in her seat. “That’s a great idea. You should both go.”
“I wish I could. I just can’t get away right now.”
“That’s all right,” Ash said. “I didn’t really expect you would. Maybe I’ll hit Valle de Lágrimas, then go over and spend a couple days at Lautaro’s. I’m trying to do this on a dime, so I’m not sure it will work this time.”
“Not Valle de Lágrimas,” Sam said as he joined them. “Sorry—just came in for your dishes and heard you mention it. Some places in Colombia are still not safe for outsiders. Hell, they aren’t safe for residents, either.”
“What’s not safe about it?” Ash asked.
“You know I’ve been working to get the fort set up as an ecotourism stop. Well, I’m part of several international groups online with that focus. Valle de Lágrimas is one of the Colombian villages they warn people away from. It may one day be safe, but right now there are too many residual fighters there, groups who want to return to the bloody days of the conflict.”
Ash sighed. “Oh. Well, that is disappointing. I’ll have to keep it on my list of future trips. There’s enough for me to do in Medellín this time around. I’ll stay busy—and safe. And I’ll keep in my budget.”
7
The trip from Colorado to Medellín, Colombia took a day and a half, with the various layovers she’d had to accept with the budget-priced ticket she’d purchased. It was midmorning when Ash landed. She navigated her way through the airport and customs easily, since she’d packed everything she needed for the trip in a single backpack. Once she was out of the airport and headed toward her vacation, excitement filled her with energy, giving her a second wind.
Two couples breezed past her, waving goodbye. She’d sat with them on the flight from Miami. Experienced backpackers, they were doing the hostel thing in Medellín. True wanderers, they were going from adventure to adventure, staying in place only long enough to work a little to pay for their next stop.
Ash envied them. She’d almost followed that path herself after college, but she’d decided to put roots down so she could stay near Summer and Kiera. That led to a job, which led to a mortgage on a little bungalow in town, which led to a bigger job. And now her wandering days were limited to a week or two every other year.
She hailed a cab and went to her hotel. Everyone had choices to make in life. She didn’t regret hers; she just wished she could sometimes have a few “ands” in her life—her freedom and her roots.
Ash spent the next few days in a blur of museums, art galleries, restaurants, and window shopping. She had only a couple of days left before her flight back to Miami. So she hit the last museum on her list, one she’d been saving up the courage to visit. Museo Casa de la Memoria was dedicated to the memory of those lost in the decades-long conflict within the country.
The displays were minimalistic, fitting perfectly with the story the museum was telling. Photographs documenting the lives taken or given to the violence told a tragic story with whispers of hope.
Valle de Lágrimas was mentioned in its own small section, discussing the mass graves that were recently cleared out and the healing the town was hoping to do.
Again Ash was struck by how different this village looked from the scenery of her vision. She wondered about the man she saw. Why had he mentioned Valle de Lágrimas?
She finished her walk through the museum and went back outside.
“Look who it is!” a woman called out off to her side. “Hi, Colorado!”
Ash recognized May, the petite blond in the group of backpackers. “Hey, Texas!” She smiled and waved, glad for a break from the solemn mood that lingered from the museum.
“Heavy stuff, huh?” Larry, a white guy with blond dreads, said.
“It is,” Ash responded. “Such a beautiful country, full of kind and generous people. I don’t know how you heal from so much violence.”
“Power sucks,” Bean said. He was a tall beanstalk of a guy, which, she supposed, was how he got his name.
“It can, for sure,” Ash answered.
“Hey, have you been to Parque Lleras yet?” Celia, Larry’s girlfriend, asked. “We went last night. It was crazy.”
“What is it?” Ash asked.
“It’s where the glitterati of Medellín go to see and be seen,” May said. “It’s in the Poblado area. Blocks and blocks of restaurants, bars, cafés, clubs. Not my thing.” She nodded at the others. “But they like it.”
“Glitterati, huh? Surprised any of you would be interested,” Ash said.
“We always dig watching human behavior,” Celia said. “And we’ll get some good content for our travel blog.”
“We’re going again tonight,” Larry said. “Wanna come with?”
“Sure. Sounds fun.”
“We’ll pick you up at your hotel around seven then,” Bean told Ash. “Stay hungry. We’ll get something there.”
Larry walked backward and said with a grin, “Yeah, and stay thirsty too.”
Parque Lleras was exactly as they’d said. A dizzying stretch of blasting music, people everywhere, dancing and drinking. May looked a little overwhelmed, a feeling Ash sympathized with. They picked up takeout from a half-dozen spots, sharing samples of everything. Several mojitos in, Ash realized she’d met her limit.
They sat on the edge of a retaining wall, taking in their surroundings. “So when are you heading back, Ash?” Celia asked.
“I have two more days. How about you guys? What’s next for you?”
“Valle de Lágrimas,” Larry said.
“What? You’re going there?” Ash was shocked but not surprised. These four were in it for the adventure.
“Sure. Why not? There’s lots of history there,” Bean said.
“And if they’re trying to rebuild their town, a few tourists might be just the help they need,” May said.
&n
bsp; “We’ve heard things about it,” Larry said. He leaned closer to Ash. “Strange things. Monsters in the jungle and zombies sitting in the streets.”
Ash frowned. “That sounds horrible.” Why would that guy from her vision want her to go to a place like that?
“I know, but we always try to hit at least one haunted place wherever we go,” Larry said. “We’re renting a car. And we’ve booked a room for the night. With five, it’s cheaper. You in?”
Ashlyn did a quick poll of her gut, a warning she promptly ignored. Valle de Lágrimas. She’d just found a way to go there. “I’m in.”
“Yeah!” Bean said. “We leave early. We’ll swing by the hotel and get you around eight tomorrow morning.”
“We will be back day after tomorrow, right? I can’t miss my flight.”
Celia nodded. “You got it. We’re on that same flight.”
Ash shook her head. “You guys are crazy.”
“But fun,” Bean replied.
Ash watched the beautiful, verdant countryside stream past their rented Ford Escape. Good thing they all traveled light—there wasn’t much room for luggage. The couples had brought two duffel bags, in addition to their four backpacks. That was about all that fit in the back hatch.
The bright sun made flowers, shrubs, people—everything—glow in brilliant color. After a while, they turned off the main road, then made a few turns onto ever-rougher roads as they climbed in elevation and moved into the jungle. Where they were headed was a few hours west of Medellín. And lucky Ash, as the last person in their little rental, got to sit behind Bean, who, even with his knees almost in his throat, had the seat pushed as far back as it could go.
Ash looked at her temporary travel buddies. This serendipitous situation was exactly what made traveling alone fun. She just hoped their excursion to Valle de Lágrimas went well. Her visit to the museum yesterday had made it clear how edgy things might still be in a town like that—as Sam had warned her, after all.
The road got so rough that she worried their rented car would break an axle, but they finally made the turn-off and drove down into a little valley. Ash felt her heart beating double time. She was here. Maybe the guy from her vision was also here. Or had been here. Maybe someone knew who he was.
Valle de Lágrimas wasn’t a huge village. Only a few hundred people called it home, Ash knew from the research she’d done. It was just several blocks wide and long, with its colonial architecture nestled in the center of the town.
The room her group had rented was a block from the big town plaza. Bean texted someone that they were there as they all got out to stretch. A few minutes later, an older woman hurried over to greet them. Larry paid her for the night and got the key to their studio flat. The woman gave them pointers to the best places in town to eat. Ash was glad she’d been studying Spanish. It was unlikely there were many English speakers in the village.
“I’m starving,” Bean said.
“You’re always hungry,” May replied, laughing.
“Let’s eat,” Larry suggested. “Then we can go find the zombies.”
Celia shivered. “Better we find them in the daylight than at night.”
Ash laughed. “Whatever. I’m not going into the jungle to look for monsters.” A girl had her limits, after all.
They had a quick meal of fresh trout and sliced fruit. The staff looked at the table, their dishes, anything but directly at them. They weren’t unfriendly, just warily standoffish. Besides their group, Ash only saw one other table of men who looked like tourists.
When their meal was over, Larry asked one of the staff if he knew where the famous pink murals were. He shook his head and said there were none of those in town. But as they were leaving the café, a villager said he would have his son show them where to go, for a tip.
The group agreed, but that decision alarmed Ash. How many tourists had been led into a dangerous situation by following a seemingly innocuous little guide to a section of town they shouldn’t be in?
Ash hung back. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
Larry gave her an irritated glance. “It’s what we came here for.”
And it was. But still. Ash sent Summer and Kiera a quick text letting her know she’d found a way to get to Valle de Lágrimas and would text more later.
There.
At least someone would know where to start looking for them.
The little boy jogged ahead of the group. Ash couldn’t ignore all the strange looks they were receiving from the locals as they crossed the plaza, passed a couple of blocks of quaint colonial buildings, then stepped into an area that looked nothing like the historical section of town. This newer neighborhood had dirt roads and buildings patched together from corrugated aluminum siding and other scrap pieces of lumber. A few structures were built out of something more substantial and had stucco walls. Some of them even had walled gardens. It was a wide mixture of architectural types.
The boy stopped in front of one such building that sported a loud pink wall. Sitting opposite the wall was a decaying corpse. The boy was very proud of it. He held his hand out and said in Spanish, “Here is a bad man, cursed by our very own saint to watch this wall. He is the devil.”
A dark stain had formed a ring around the chair. The corpse’s clothes were ripped where animals had torn at them. Something moved inside its gaping mouth, but Ash looked away before she could see what it was. Somehow, despite its disintegrating flesh, the corpse sat in perfect repose. Nothing held it to the chair, but it was still in an upright position. It was like a criminal in an old-time gibbet, hung out to deter others from landing a similar fate.
“You see, señorita, it is a miracle,” the boy said, watching Ash’s inspection.
“What makes you think it’s a miracle?” Maybe it was just an inexplicable aspect of life so near a jungle. She walked around behind the chair. Absolutely nothing bound the corpse to its seat.
“My papa says it was a judgment from…“ The boy pointed up to the sky.
“What did this man do deserve this fate?” Ash asked. Her traveling companions had gone oddly silent, probably struck by the dark feel of the energy around the chair.
“He and the others did many bad things.” The boy looked at Larry and Bean. “He hurt people. He killed people. Papa said the government would do nothing about him, so Saint Merc came to help us.” The boy waved to the pink wall. “Saint Merc made this bad man watch while the scary scene on the wall was covered over.”
“Saint Merc?” Ash wasn’t very religious and wasn’t familiar with many of the lesser-known saints, but that name wasn’t one she recognized at all. “Did you see him? Is he still here?”
The boy looked crushed. “Yes, I saw him. We all saw him.”
“What did he look like?” Ash asked.
“Like any of us. He was as tall as my dad.” He waved a hand over himself. “He looked like us.”
Ash had pictured the man from her vision being here, doing these things, but the boy’s description indicated Saint Merc was someone else entirely.
“He’s dead now,” the boy said. “He died in the pit and was taken back to heaven.”
“Dead?” Ash folded her arms and looked away. Dead. He’d been in a dark place in her vision at the fort. But wait, that man and this Saint Merc weren’t the same person. Why did she keep getting them confused?
The boy nodded, but said nothing more about that. “Do you want to see the others?”
“Sure,” Bean said, answering for the group. “But does that thing ever get up and walk around?”
May elbowed him in the side. “It’s not a zombie.”
It did look like it could just get up at any time, if skeletons walked about, that was. When the others had started down the street, Ash lingered a moment, working up the courage to touch it. She reached down to the chair, but she couldn’t seem to get close enough to it. Like some invisible force field covered it.
“No one can touch it,” the boy said, looking back at he
r. “It is part of the miracle.”
Ash held her hand. She hadn’t made physical contact with the dead guy or his chair, but she had with the energy surrounding them. It conveyed a sense of someone powerful, determined, neck-deep in a war of vital importance.
A guy that seemed immortal. He couldn’t have died in a nowhere village like this, could he? Perhaps what she’d felt was the will of the battle he fought, something that existed before this Saint Merc—and after.
Still, it was sad to think a man like that was gone.
She followed the group to the next seated corpse. This was the same as the one before—adhered somehow to its chair, facing a pink wall. She wondered what the significance of that color was. A breeze kicked up in the narrow road. Ash realized that this body, like the one before, didn’t stink. How was that possible, for a decomposing corpse?
How was any of this possible?
“How many of these things are there?” Celia asked.
“Three. And then there are all the dead ones in the pit,” the boy said.
Larry gasped and looked at Bean, his eyes bright with excitement. “We have to go there.”
The boy vigorously shook his head. “It is forbidden. You can’t.”
“Sure, kid. Too bad, but we get it,” Bean said, appearing to drop the idea. His comment reassured the kid, but did nothing to settle Ash’s nerves. These four depended on the income their travel vlog brought in; there was no way they were going to miss an opportunity like this.
They went to the last seated corpse. It faced an orange wall. Ash had a knot in her stomach. The boy said the three men just sat down one day when Saint Merc had had enough of their attacks on him. They never got up again. It had taken days for them to die. Saint Merc had forced them to watch their gang murals be painted over.
When the tour was finished, they were on the east side of town. A narrow path led across an overgrown field to the edge of the jungle. The boy stared into the shadowy woods.
“That’s where they are, isn’t it? The old mass graves?” Larry asked.
O-Men: Liege's Legion - Merc Page 7