Juan of the Dead

by Jacalyn Boggs

  “Sure, looks like they expected it. I'm not sure what that means exactly. Give me a moment.”

  I watched as Anna-Lucia spoke with Jon and the Elders. Within a few minutes she'd replied to Jon. I recognized one word, “No.”

  No, what? No, I don't eat? No, I don't eat a lot? No, I don't want to scream at the frustrations of it all?

  “They assumed you wouldn't eat, at least not like the rest of us. They are fine with that.”

  I figured that had to make it easier when they planned to abduct two unsuspecting people. They wanted some sort of prophecy-fulfillment from me; to join forces with them to fight for Truth, Justice, and the Hispanic way. It was probably good for them to know they didn't need to pack for me.

  One less thing to plague my mind. “Thank goodness. It's really annoying to try to come up with ways to fake eat.”

  Jon moved closer to the others as they tore into the food. It must have been good. If only I'd met up with these people before I died. I tried to blend into the background while they all ate. They allowed me to be myself and not eat, but I didn't want them to be uncomfortable, either.

  I laid back, stretching over several pillows. Looking up, I noticed a circular hole in the top of the roof. I wondered what that was and how this tent we'd entered managed to stay up in the extreme weather.

  Closing my eyes, I thought about the tasks at hand. Without any sort of identification, I didn’t know of any way to fix things for me. At least if I went along with these yahoos I'd get a good adventure to tell people whenever I went back home. Where was this kind of vacation when I was in school and had to write stupid essays entitled, “What I did last summer”? I always hated those.

  c

  chapter nineteen

  When I'd heard nothing but silence for far too long, I opened my eyes and sat up. Everyone was passed out around me. If they were all passed out, who was minding the store? I felt the panic rise within me.

  As I took in the slumped bodies, I knew something was amiss. It wasn't like they were all laid out like I'd been, indicating a choice to rest their eyes. Jon was slumped over where he sat with his legs folded under him. It was the most uncomfortable position I'd ever seen. One of the Head Honcho Duo, maybe Mac, had fallen into the other who then fell backwards.

  Something was not right, and I didn't like the looks of things one bit. Turns out my reservations came with good reason.

  That moment, someone grabbed me from behind and threw something over my head. Blinded, I tried to kick my assailant, but that didn't work too well. Mostly it led to me getting jerked around.

  They better not leave any bruises on me.

  “What the hell are you doing? Get off me!” My cry was ignored as whomever it was dragged me backwards. I thrashed against their hold, but the grip only tightened. Man, that hurt.

  If only I could see. Here I'd thought that the rough treatment was over. When would people learn respect? You could just ask someone to come with you. What was with all the trying to force things?

  Here I was, 33, and I'd never been banged up or shoved around like in this last week. No bully issues growing up, nothing more than the cramped jostling on the Metro or whatever. Understandable and normal stuff.

  I squirmed more, but it didn't do anything to help free me. I threw my head about hoping that whatever was over it would come off. Anything so I could see those who were hauling me out of the tent.

  It was easy to tell when we'd left the tent, I could feel the breeze on my arms. Too bad everyone was unconscious inside the tent. I didn't think my good buddies would take too kindly to this poor treatment of me. These new people would pay heavily.

  There was backup outside, and this guy didn't like my attempts to get away. Someone grabbed my feet out from under me and I could tell I was being hoisted along by two people. I stopped my efforts to escape. Between being blind and held aloft, I figured my chances were negligible for success. If I could just wait this out, they'd put me down eventually. My problem was that I wanted to be free.

  It wasn't long before they put me down. In a way. I felt like they were attempting to turn me into the human undead pretzel. Ick. Unfortunately, they continued to hold me tight. I couldn't really move a whole lot, but it felt like they were sitting with me thrown over their laps. What was this? They had better not get any wise ideas. I heard an engine start up. What was it with people and abducting me? Since when did I come with my very own ransom note?

  “Where do you think you're taking me? Let me go!” I knew these guys could hear me, but I heard no response.

  I tried a different tactic. “Hey, you know, all you had to do was ask. I might have come along if you'd acted like civilized people. Ever hear of an invitation? Think you could let me sit up?”

  Nothing.

  This was way past getting on my nerves. First, there was the whole killing me thing. Sure, that was fate, but still. Then the raising me from the dead. Okay, I could deal with that one. After all, it meant I was still able to do stuff. The loss of my personal items was tough, even if I could eventually replace those things. But then you threw in the chasing me, attacking me, and making me run in shoes definitely not meant for such action. And now, two abductions in one day?

  Enough was enough. I wanted someone to ask for my approval before things started happening. It wasn't so much to ask. I had rights and freedoms and liberties.

  “Hello? People? Anyone there? Think you can remove this thing from my head?” I pleaded.

  At least the last people who pulled the kidnapping action on me didn't try to blind me. We were in the middle of nowhere. What on earth was the purpose of covering my eyes? So I couldn't see the big fat lot of nothing as we drove?

  The vehicle bumped along, and I didn't care too much for the comfort level of two large people holding me tight across themselves.

  “How about just letting me sit up? Is that too much to ask?” I persisted. Really, sitting between two brutes in a moving vehicle couldn't offer me chance to get away, could it? I didn't think so. They must have disagreed with that because my pleas were met with staunch silence and absolutely no action to help me out.

  The vehicle swerved around a corner and I felt my stomach lurch. Without being able to see, everything seemed more intense. I was so glad these guys drove like wild maniacs down the piss poor roads of Mexico. It was beginning to feel like the time I went on Space Mountain after eating two corn dogs and a whole churro.

  How fast was this guy driving? We slammed around again, and I started to slip, but my captors pulled me closer. On the bright note, they were keeping their hands in socially accepted places, but I knew in my heart I'd have bruises from their rough handling.

  Time had no meaning when you couldn’t see anything, and you were being held prisoner by brutes while bouncing around the countryside at Mach 3. Then again, speed didn't have much meaning either. Maybe it was only twenty miles per hour, but it sure felt like Mach 3. I was about sick of the world right now and just wanted some answers. Like who had me now? I sure hoped these guys weren't the slice-n-dicers. When at last we came to a stop, I thought I might fly off the laps of those holding me.

  “Hey, ever hear of brakes? They are your friend; you don't have to be so cruel to them! How about easing into a stop?”

  And still, silence. Were these guys a bunch of mutes or what? How hard was it to

  answer a stinking question? Even if they didn't know what I was saying, they could at least grunt out whatever so I could know they didn't understand something. I’d never thought myself to be all that high maintenance or demanding till I died.

  Don't get me wrong, I was very particular. I liked things to go a certain way and whatnot, just like everyone else. But this bordered on ridiculous. I just wanted people to act normal without me having to practically force it out of them.

  The goon holding my ankles slid off the seat. As I felt his lap slip from under me, I knew it was time for the Wrestle Bea Out of the Car game. This could go one of two ways:
a huge pain or a nightmare. I chose huge pain and tried to work as best I could with my detainers. I was so thankful that getting out was so much less trouble than getting in. I also found myself put on my feet again, with a meaty brute hand gripping each of my arms.

  “Did you decide to let me walk like I actually have a choice in what's going on? Gee, thanks, creeps,” I grumbled.

  Someone shoved me in my back to start me moving forward and I walked, being steered by my captors. I followed as best I could, tripping over unseen obstacles. It was almost like they wanted me to fall.

  “Hey, think you could help me not trip and kill myself?” How hard was it to steer me away from a root or whatever that thing was I just stumbled on? My toe smarted from where it got caught because no one had the curtesy to tell me I needed to lift my foot higher.

  I heard a terrible creaking, squealing sound. Someone could have been murdering a car, it sounded so bad. I winced at the high decibel shriek of metal on metal, not that anyone could tell since my face was covered.

  “What the hell was that?” Why I bothered asking, I’d never know. It wasn't like I even expected an answer at that point. It just seemed the only way for me to let them know how unhappy I was by this situation. Surely, they could hear my displeasure in my tone. Instead of words, I was shoved forward once more. I banged my other foot on something hard. What was wrong with these people?

  “That's it, you guys want me to go somewhere you gotta help me actually get there or let me see. Duh!”

  Nothing really changed so I took my throbbing foot and felt my way up to the top of what turned out to be a step. It was far too smooth as I dragged the toe of my sandal along it. When I found the top, it leveled out. Thinking it was a step, I took care with my other foot to do the same thing. Four steps later, there was only a bump of an inch or two, a door jamb. That horrible sound must have been a door in dire need of an oil can.

  I could hear our footfalls echoing, the building was that large and empty. Well, how predictable was this? I got kidnapped and taken to some sort of abandoned building. Five pesos to anyone that got me out of this nightmare that this place turned out to be a warehouse. Was five pesos the same as like betting someone ten bucks in America?

  More pushing me along until we ended up by a chair. I knew this because I was forced down to sit in it, which was very disconcerting. Having someone shove you from a standing to a sitting position felt like you were going to fall to the ground.

  The chair wasn't particularly comfortable, but I didn't expect any less. These people didn't care about my comfort in any way. I wanted to be in on their agenda, maybe I could save myself some injury if we moved again. They finally tore the thing off of my head. I could feel my hair fly in every direction. I bet I looked just dandy. Guess these people didn't care about how much time and work went into doing my hair in the morning. I shook my head to get my tresses to at least get back into some semblance of order and out of my eyes.

  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I grunted. Yup, a warehouse. How original were these people? They watched way too many bad movies. I took in the motley crew that made up my new captors. These guys weren't much better off than the last. If they wanted to go about kidnapping random Americans, they should try for going elsewhere and finding someone with money to pay a ransom. So, they could be less... motley.

  They stood in a line in front of where I sat. Five people. Just staring at me. I stared back. They didn't move or say anything. It was like second grade all over again.

  “This is going somewhere fast. You guys have me, now what do you want to do with me?”

  Nothing like cutting to the chase. They didn't move, though. Not even a blink.

  I heard a sound from behind me, shoes on the floor of the warehouse. You could tell they were the footfalls of a woman. Even with that warning, I didn't expect what happened next.

  c

  chapter twenty

  What to my wondering eyes should appear, but Leahonia. My kind hostess with the mostest from last night.

  “Hello, Bea.” Short and sweet, huh?

  “Leahonia?” I arched an eyebrow at her.

  “You left my mother's dinner,” she scolded lightly.

  “I don't think that's cause for this sort of treatment. Your goons were a little... rough.”

  “I'm very sorry, but you went off with the wrong sort of crowd. You really should have stayed for dinner, Bea.”

  “I didn't have much choice in that, either. Your country is very rude. No one extends a simple invitation. I'd gladly RSVP to a Save the Date. It's not that hard. You just ask. Say please. It's what's socially acceptable.”

  “We did ask for you to stay. You didn't have to go for a walk.”

  Why bother with the pretense? Obviously Leahonia knew more than she'd originally let on. “I think you and I both know why I didn't want to stay.”

  “Oh yes, your condition. I figured that out easily enough. You really should learn some discretion if you want to survive in this world.”

  When did her English get so good? She really played us the fool. Was she spying on Jon all along? Had she figured out when he came to Mexico what he'd one day do?

  “Thanks for the helpful hints. You did who knows what to Jon and the others. Why should I trust you?”

  I hoped that Jon was okay. The others… well sure I wanted them to be fine, but they abducted me too. I had no interest in getting involved in their crazy ideas or petty squabbles. I just wanted to get back to my own life.

  “They'll be fine. We just drugged them. A little something in their food to take a nice long nap. I assure, all is well. Meanwhile, you and I can have a chat.”

  “Uh huh. And if you wanted to talk, you know we could have. I was in your home last night. We travelled up to your mother's together. We walked through town. Any old time you wanted; you could have struck up a conversation.”

  “True. But I needed time...”

  I cut her off coldly. “Time to what? To have your goons truss me up and drag me all over? Isn't this all a bit dramatic? Especially since, once more, you had me right where you could chat. Just tell me you want a sit down and hey, there you go. One talk with me coming right up.”

  "That's nice for you to say, but we both know it wouldn't have happened that way. Are you really this stupid or is it all an act?”

  What the-? “Hey, I'm reasonable. I'll talk to anyone.” Well, almost anyone. “So, you got me here. After all this trouble, don't you think we should just get on with it. You really went to a lot of effort so it must be important.”

  “Indeed. Let's get on with this. I think we can both cut to the chase. We know what you are.”

  “Smokin' hot? Fashionable? I'm a lot of things, Leahonia. I think you should be clearer.” Now who's being stupid? She wants to cut to the chase, she can put things out there.

  We all knew she was referring to my recently deceased status in life, but I was still in the dark as to what that meant. Clarity was not really a strong point in Nowhere, Mexico.

  “Bea, really. I'm trying to be nice. Do you really want me to say it?” she asked, voice just as sweet as could be.

  Yes. Answer my five-billion-dollar question, please. What the hell am I?

  “You and I have a different opinion of nice,” I grumbled. “My nice is a simple please, yours is roughing people up and taking them from their friends.”

  “You are reanimated. We all know what that means.”

  That I no longer craved chocolate or a good dim sum place? Gee, glad we're all on the same page here.

  “How about you tell me what you think that means, Leahonia. Seems to me there's a lot of different ideas floating around out there.”

  “There can be only one idea. Everyone knows the Reanimated have but one goal.”

  “Hey, I do have only one goal! To leave your Godforsaken country and get back to civilization. I just wanna go home and get on with my life. It's not so much to ask, don’t you think?”

  “I'm sure you
would like to get back there. Much easier to feed your hunger that way.”

  Wow, I could feel the icicles in her voice. Where had the sweet gone?

  My eyebrow curved up. “I have no idea what hunger you speak of. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't really want much to do with food these days. I'm kind of hoping it'll help me lose those last pesky five pounds.”

  “Don't play innocent with me. You may have Jon conned, but we know what your kind eats. We also know what you do. We can't let that happen.”

  "Are you brain damaged? How many times do I have to tell you, I have no idea what you are talking about? You and your goons are going to what? Make sure I don't what? Scare kids on Halloween?”

  She never took her eyes off of me, while she spoke to the goons behind her. The language didn't sound Spanish. One of her goons answered and I thought I noticed some similar sounds to the language spoken by the group I'd just left.

  “We'll admit we don't know how long it takes for the hunger to get in. We try not to let things get that far. But we also know you are special. The prophecies spoken of are rather detailed in that.”

  Seriously, what was this hunger? I was feeling some hunger for sure. Hunger for freedom, for home, for that which I used to call normal. But those weren't the sort of hunger that would fix the cries of a stomach. I shrugged at her.

  “Still don't know what you mean. The thought of food makes me sick,” I said. It did.

  “It'll come up sooner or later,” she dismissed. “But we're all attached to our brains. We are off limits.”

  Ick. Wouldn't that be kind of slimy? And really, the thought of digging around in someone's cranium? I shuddered. Blood and I didn't mix.

  “Gross! Look, I sat out of biology dissection because the thought of cutting up and looking inside dead critters was icky enough to make my skin crawl. No way do I want to eat your brains. You've watched one too many horror movies. Do I really look like a shuffling zombie?”