by L. A. Boruff
“Guatemala City”.
They both spoke Spanish. If I was going to spend any time around those guys, I’d have to brush up my language game. They made me feel ignorant.
“How much longer until we reach Panama?”
Elias relayed my question to the pilot then turned back to me. “A good ten hours. Our next stop is in San Jose, Costa Rica.” Elias pulled me into a hug. “It’s going to be an exhausting trip, but it'll be worth it in the end.” I gripped him tightly, dreading the journey. More than anything in the world, I wanted to erase the last five years and return to the boring, yet fulfilling, life Michael and I led.
What about Anthony and Elias? I’d never have met them if I went back.
Guilt—my new best friend. I sighed and walked with Elias into the airport to freshen up and use the restroom. I spotted a Burger King, of all places, across the street.
Elias went to ask the pilot what he’d like to eat. We jogged across the road, joined by Anthony. They translated for me, and I eventually was able to order an Americano cheeseburger and fries. The restaurant even served the same soda I occasionally drank at home.
“I hope we'll have time to try some local cuisine at some point on this trip.” So what if I was complaining? If I was going to travel across Latin America, I wanted to eat well. “So far we’ve eaten nothing but what amounts to American food.”
“When our trip is complete, I will take you around the world and let you try any food you can imagine, little Coya. Until then, we eat whatever is handy and cheap,” said Anthony. He opened his wallet and counted out US dollars.
“How can you use American money here?”
“They charge a bit more, but a few shops will convert the money for you.” Elias grabbed our cups, and I helped him fill them at the self serve station while Anthony waited on our bags of food.
Lunch was a quiet affair as we sat beside the pilot at a sticky table in the airport. We made our way to the refueled plane and took off for Costa Rica. This time the ascent was bumpier. Elias turned around and smiled, giving me a thumbs up when he saw me clinging to Anthony.
We pulled our bags full of clothes out to use as pillows. I knew we would end up sleeping sporadically once we made it to Peru, so we snuggled in to sleep. My eyes drifted, and I watched the clouds soar by while sleep eluded me and my mind wouldn't turn off. Instead, thoughts of Michael bombarded me. I even smelled him. In my lulled state I looked around to see if he was there.
He’s not there, Riley. He’s dead. Be thankful your children are alive. It could've been much worse given the circumstances. They could’ve killed you too.
Anthony handed me an iPod, and I found a band Michael and I loved. I listened to music from the happiest time in my life until I eventually dozed off.
Chapter 9
Riley. I know where you’re going now. I will meet you in Peru. I can help you. I can get you to the underworld. Soon we'll be together, forever.
* * *
I opted to keep the most recent installment in what was becoming a creepy sleeping ritual to myself. Hiding my nighttime visitor’s words was dangerous, but there was something about that voice.
I was quiet and introspective for the remainder of our flight. We stopped again at another minute strip in Apartadó, Colombia. The pilot asked for a four hour break to nap. He curled up in the back seat of the plane and we set off to find authentic Colombian food.
The city of Apartadó was both beautiful and sad. The population numbers were almost as high as my native Knoxville, but the poverty in the city was rampant. We found a small cafe, and were welcomed with the smell of delectable spices.
I pigged out on Colombian tamales wrapped in banana leaves. By the time we left, my pants were snug and my brain fuzzy and warm. Remembering the hungry look on the faces of the people we passed on the way to the restaurant, I whispered to Elias to leave a large tip.
The rest of our journey to Peru passed in a fog of naps, guilt, and contemplation of my newfound feelings for Elias and Anthony. I noticed less scenery and spent more time spacing out while looking at their profiles.
Twenty eight hours after leaving Córdoba, we were in Cusco. I’d slept for a portion of each flight, but I lagged like I’d run the entire way on foot.
We thanked the pilot—we’d learned his name was Arturo, and his two young sons were adorable and chubby.
Elias took his contact information to later send him a bonus for getting us safely to our destination, and rented a small car at the large airport. We stopped at the first hotel we found. The Hotel Ferre Cusco became the second place we played the American celebrity song-and-dance. Before I knew it, I was collapsing onto another plush bed. My guys climbed in around me, and the next six hours were spent in a blissful, dreamless sleep.
We were woken by a hard knock on the door. I scrambled into the bathroom so that my distinctly not-celebrity face wouldn’t be seen. Since I was in there anyway, I used the toilet and washed my face. The bathroom wasn’t as posh as the last hotel, but I was hopeful for a decent shower. I flipped off the tap when I heard the sound of a body hitting the wall. “Riley, stay in there until we tell you it’s safe!” Anthony’s voice was faint, he must’ve been across the room.
A series of crashes and bangs followed his statement, and I pressed my ear up to the door to listen when it quieted. I heard male voices murmuring but couldn’t make out any words.
“Where is she? She’s here, I can smell her.” A voice came through the door, a familiar voice…A too familiar voice. I pressed my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear clearly enough.
If I didn’t know any better I’d’ve thought—
“Riley! Baby, are you in there?”
Oh god. Oh my god. I panicked. I’d heard that voice in my mind so many times. My chest was full of hope and terror.
I couldn’t handle it. It was cruel. I didn’t want to open the bathroom door; if I opened the door then I might learn that the hope in my chest was for nothing. It couldn’t be him. He was dead.
Stop it, Riley. He’s dead. He. Is. Dead. He died a long time ago. My stomach was hollow—my whole body was hollow. The door vibrated against my ear as a fist struck it.
I jumped back and stared at the door. “Elias? Anthony? Are you still out there?” My voice was thin. It certainly didn’t sound like me, it sounded weak and scared, and I hadn’t been weak or scared in years.
“Riley! It’s me, Baby. It’s Michael. Please come out.”
No fucking way. I was sure it was a cruel trick. Elias said witches were real, maybe I was being put under a spell.
Elias's voice came through the door next. I could hear his torment as he spoke. “Ri, come out. It’s him.”
I meant to open the door, but my legs were frozen. I was incapable of taking the two steps to the door to open it. My breaths came out in pants, hysteria rising.
Anthony tried next. “Coya, we're here for you. We’ll help you through this, but it is him.”
I held my breath as I cracked the door and peeked out. I could see the outline of a large male body with his fists resting on the door. The lines of the muscles on his arms were familiar. I breathed rapidly again. “Please back up,” I whispered. He moved several feet from the door and the light of the lamp beside the bed illuminated his face. I opened the door fully and stood there, dumb.
Alarms shrieked in my mind. My emotions had swung from the deepest pit of despair to the highest hope over the past week. This was almost too much to process. “Elias. Anthony.” Their names, barely audible, left my lips and they were beside me, taking my hands. Lightning flashed in Michael’s eyes as he looked at our hands.
“Michael. How can this be? How is this happening?” I couldn't accept that my long lost, dead husband was standing in front of me.
Anthony put his arm around my shoulders and answered before Michael could. “My Coya, I don't yet understand how this has happened, but it’s him. The first thing we did was ask him questions only Michael could answer. We
believe it really is him. It isn't someone else using a glamor spell.”
I lurched forward. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor. Michael sat on his knees in front of me while I gaped at his face. There were several white scars on it that were not there before. His light brown hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, pulled up into a bun, and he’d grown a short, neat beard.
I lifted a shaking finger to smooth the wild hairs of his eyebrows. It was something I’d done constantly before. The motion was alien and brought on a wave of emotion. The texture of his brows hadn’t changed. I was shocked I could remember it.
He ran his knuckles along my jawline as a tear ran down his cheek. “Riley, I'm so sorry. I tried so hard to come home to you. I’ll never leave you again, baby.”
I burst into sobs. He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his neck. “You were gone! I came home and everything fell apart.” It was hard to speak through my sobs.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I never wanted to leave you. I tried, Riley, I tried. Please, please tell me our sons are okay. Did they kill them?” His expression was tortured, and his face was soaked in tears.
“They’re safe. They’re with your family.”
A low moan was his only response as he wrapped me in his arms again. He felt like home and yet his touch was so foreign. Our bodies didn't meld together in the same ways anymore.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him, enjoying the sensation of my newly-toned body touching his. He stood and grabbed me under my thighs, lifting me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist, something he’d never been able to do before. He sat on the bed and squeezed me tightly. Sobs shook his body.
I bet he could’ve lifted me with his supernatural strength but didn’t want to draw attention to it. I pushed it out of my mind and focus on the moment. We sat on the bed clinging and cooing loving words to each other until I felt Elias's and Anthony's stares.
They sat on the small sofa opposite the couch. Anthony cleared his throat. “Brother, we're happy to see you, but there are many explanations we need to hear.”
“I agree, Tony,” said Michael. I ogled him, still amazed. The cadence of his words mesmerized me. I could listen to him talk all night. He was alive—I didn’t care how. “Elias, Anthony, you can begin by explaining how you are in Peru with my wife after your part in my kidnapping.”
I turned to face my best friend and the man to whom I was becoming attached. “The what? What the fuck, guys?” I didn’t truly believe they were involved in whatever happened to Michael, but I wanted the story.
“We had no part in your death, Michael. Well, what we thought was your death,” said Anthony.
“You’re the only ones who knew where we were living!” Michael’s voice resonated fury.
Elias stood up. “Michael, we didn’t tell anyone!” He dropped to his knees in front of us. “I swear to you, brother. We would never do anything to jeopardize your life. When Danyelus told us you’d died fighting the Junta, it broke us.” He hung his head. “It broke my heart, Michael,” he whispered.
“He speaks the truth,” said Anthony. “The news of your death was the worst moment of my life. I’ve never sunk lower than the months and years after you died.” His eyes were full of unshed tears. “The joy in my heart when you walked in, Michael, it’s indescribable. I'm beyond happy to see you, my friend.”
“Then how the hell did they find us? We hid successfully for nine years!” I rubbed my hands along Michael’s arms soothingly.
“I don’t know,” said Anthony. “We tried to find out, but even after all this time, no one will tell us anything. They’re aware of how close the three of us were, so they're afraid we'll kill the one we thought killed you. The Junta forbade any more discussion on the matter.”
Elias moved to sit beside Anthony on the sofa. “Michael, how’d you find us? We’ve traveled completely under the radar.”
Michael looked at me. “I’m proud of you for not telling them.” He smiled and kissed my forehead.
“Michael, what are you talking about?”
“The dreams. I’ve sent you countless messages through your dreams.”
“That was you?” I was completely shocked. “I did tell them! I thought it was some creeper from the Junta or something. Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
He looked at me in amazement. “Well, I assumed you’d recognize my voice, Riley. You’re my wife, remember?”
“Michael, husband, the voice sounded nothing like you—and, what do you mean countless? I can only remember a handful of times!” I retorted.
Michael’s mouth gaped like a fish. “I…I don’t know. Where I’ve been for the past five years is an excruciating story.” He hung his head.
“We have a little time. Please explain how you found us. If you can find us, so can they,” said Anthony.
“I found you with Riley’s blood,” he explained, looking up at me.
I interrupted, incensed. “My blood? How'd you have my blood?”
“I’ve been drinking from you for years, Riley. It’s been hundreds of years since the Supay allowed repeated drinking from the same human, but the ancient texts tell of a bond formed from long term drinking. Since our saliva causes euphoric side effects, you thought you were having vivid sex dreams. Don’t you remember waking me up in the night because you were horny?” he said, laughing.
I wasn't laughing. He’d betrayed me—used me. “How could you?” I asked.
“I’m sorry to laugh. I’m just so happy to be with you again.” He sighed when I stared him down. He wasn’t getting out of explaining. “It started because I ran out of bagged blood. It wasn’t always easy to get. I could entrance humans at the blood banks so they'd give me bags of blood, but in that instance, I’d miscalculated when I would need more.”
He took my hand, and I thought about jerking it from his. I was pretty mad at the thought of him drinking from me without asking. “Riley, we were spending the weekend in bed, binge watching Netflix. We’d both been working like crazy, and we set aside time together. How was I supposed to explain to you that I had to leave?” He pulled me close, my face pressed into his chest. I breathed deeply and realized his scent was different. He used to smell like laundry soap and deodorant. Now, he didn’t really smell like…anything. I was disappointed in the difference, but I assumed wherever he’d been was thin on Tide.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me the truth?” I mumbled into his chest.
“Because they would’ve killed you. I was so selfish. Once I realized what a beautiful, extraordinary person you were, I should've ran far and fast. That would’ve been the selfless thing to do, but I couldn’t leave you. My only hope was that if you didn’t know the truth, they might not kill you if they ever found us. I was running out of time, though. When David started going through puberty I would've been forced to tell you. And…I was ashamed. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I didn't do it often, but I continued to drink from you.”
“Whatever your apprehension about Michael taking your blood, my Coya, at least the Junta can’t track us the same way. We need to hear the rest of the story now.”
Michael spent the next hour telling us his story and being grilled by Elias and Anthony. “When the goons from the council came to the house, the boys were in the backyard playing. I recognized them, of course. These men I’d trained with, fought beside, and learned from were on our lawn. I thought I’d been betrayed by you two, my confidants. Besides my wife, you were the two people I was closest to in the world.”
“Who came for you, Michael?” asked Elias.
His eyes shifted between the three of us before looking away. “I can’t remember.”
Anthony cocked his head. “What do you mean you can’t remember? You’re the only one who can tell us since the Junta refuses.”
“I remember their faces, remember the pain of betrayal. I could feel the love I had for those men, but I can't remember their names. There were three of them. Th
ey walked up to our little patio where I sat watching the boys play. They told me to come quietly, that the last thing they wanted was to hurt me or our children. What could I do? I was outnumbered.” He sounded helpless and lost. “Riley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t fight. I didn’t resist. I can’t tell you how badly I wish I’d fought. Until today, I’ve wished I’d fought so that they would’ve killed me. Death would've been preferable to what I’ve endured.” He sucked a deep, calming breath in through his nose and out his mouth. “But I have you again, so it was worth it.”
“Michael,” I said, “all of your belongings were gone. The boys’ stuff—gone. All that was left to me was their memory boxes. Who took everything? Who left the house empty of our life together?”
“I have no idea. They put the three of us in a minivan. As soon as I slid into the seat I felt a prick in my neck, and I lost consciousness. I don’t know what they injected me with since we're resistant to drugs, but when I woke up, I was in a room with no windows. It was a comfortable room, but I couldn’t leave. The door was steel and reinforced. I broke my hand trying to punch through the walls. I could not get out.” So they’re strong, but not like a superhero.
“Ohh, God,” I whispered, watching his face as he spoke. I took his hands in my own and rubbed his knuckles. Anthony’s face was stone, and Elias's fists were so tight they were turning white.
“Breathe, guys. I survived. I’m here. It gets a lot worse, so you have to stay calm.” Michael gave them a pointed look and nodded his head toward me.
Smooth. “I’m okay, Michael. Yes, it’s emotional, but I need to hear what happened. I’m—by far—not the same person you knew.”
He let out a long breath. “Okay, Ri. You’re right. You've always been strong. If the past five years hardened you, we'll have to work to break you down.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to be broken down, but it wasn’t the time to argue.
He looked my body up and down. “You look great, by the way. But, I liked the old you. I hope you're still soft in the right places.” He nuzzled his nose into my cheek then kissed it.