For a moment there was a silence as our men fought to regain their breath, then Manuelo straightened up. “They are dead?”
“Sí,” Fat Cat replied.
“All of them?” Manuelo asked.
Silently they began to check the bodies. Diego raised his head from one he had turned over with his foot. “I think this one still lives.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Manuelo asked.
Diego’s machete flashed in the morning sun and a head rolled almost two feet from its body. Diego hadn’t even paused to study the result of his blow. He prodded another body with his foot and then walked back over to Manuelo and Fat Cat, taking up a position slightly behind them.
“I count only twelve,” Fat Cat said.
“I too,” Manuelo confirmed. “The boy said there were fourteen.”
“And three women,” Diego added.
“He could have been wrong,” Fat Cat said. “He’s only a child.”
“I don’t think so,” Manuelo answered. “Two must have gone off with the women.”
“They can’t have gone far. Shall we search for them?”
“No,” Manuelo said. “By now they have heard us. We will never find them in this jungle. Gather up the guns and ammunition.” He took out a cigarrillo and lit it, leaning his back against a tree.
The others had just begun to gather up the guns when I heard a noise almost underneath the tree in which we were hidden. I looked down. It was the enemy sergeant. A tommy gun was crooked in his elbow, and he was just bringing it around to sweep the clearing. Now it was pointing right at Fat Cat.
Without thinking, I shouted, “Gato Gordo, look out!”
Fat Cat’s reactions were perfect. He dove sideways into the foliage like the animal after whom he was named. But not Diego. He stood staring up at the tree in which I was hidden, a stupid look of surprise on his face. Then a driving spray of bullets seemed to lift him into the air and tumble him, somersaulting backward.
The sergeant raised his gun toward us.
“Back! Roberto! Back!” I yelled, leaping for another limb.
I heard the chatter of the gun but it ceased almost as quickly as it had begun. I looked down. The sergeant was working the lever as hard as he could. The gun had jammed. I didn’t wait to see more.
Roberto screamed behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder. Though he was shorter than I, he weighed much more, and a limb had given way beneath him. He tumbled down through the branches, sprawling to the ground almost at the feet of the sergeant.
The sergeant threw away the gun and flung himself on Roberto. He rolled over and came to his feet holding the boy up in front of him, his knife at Roberto’s throat. He stared at our men over Roberto’s head. They stared back. Manuelo’s gun was now pointed at him, and Fat Cat stood, his machete hanging loosely at his side. The other two moved slowly around behind them.
No one had to tell the sergeant he held the trump. One look was sufficient. “Don’t move or the boy dies!”
Manuelo and Fat Cat exchanged embarrassed looks. I didn’t have to hear them speak to know what they were thinking. The general wouldn’t like this at all; if anything happened to Roberto they might as well not return. Death in the jungle would be a blessing compared to what the general would have planned for them. They didn’t move.
It was Fat Cat who spoke first. He pointed the blade of his machete at the ground. “Let the boy go,” he said smoothly. “We will be merciful. We will let you go back into the forest in peace.”
The sergeant grinned tensely, then spat. “You think I’m a fool? I saw your mercy when the others begged.”
“This is different,” Fat Cat replied.
Manuelo began to inch to one side, and the sergeant’s blade flashed. A thin line of blood appeared on Roberto’s cheek. “Don’t move!” the sergeant shouted.
Manuelo froze.
“Put down your rifle!”
Manuelo looked at Fat Cat hesitantly. Fat Cat nodded almost imperceptibly, and Manuelo’s rifle dropped to the ground.
“Now, the others,” the sergeant ordered.
Fat Cat dropped his machete, the other two their guns. The sergeant looked down at their weapons for a moment, then decided against trying to retrieve them himself. “Varga! Aquí, venga aquí!”
His voice echoed through the forest. There was no answer. He shouted again. “Varga! Aquí!”
Still no reply.
“Your compañero has fled,” Fat Cat said softly. “It will be better if you do as we say.”
“No!” The sergeant began to push his way toward the guns, carefully holding Roberto in front of him. “Back!” he warned. “Away from the guns.”
Slowly they fell back. Steadily the sergeant inched toward them. He was almost under the tree in which I was hidden when it came to me. It was as if all along I had known what would have to be done. A strange cold rage began to race inside me. It was as if a demon had taken possession of me.
I felt, rather than knew, that I had drawn the knife from my belt. Its hilt lay flat in my clenched fist, the blade out-thrust like a sword.
He was directly under me now. A wild scream came up from my throat as I dove from the tree. “Mato! I kill!”
I caught a glimpse of the upturned white face as I crashed onto him. A hot searing pain ran up through my arm as the two of us tumbled to the ground. Then two arms seized me and rolled me away. I went over and over and when I scrambled to my feet I saw Fat Cat standing over the sergeant.
There was a look of wonder on his face as he stood there looking down, his machete still hanging loosely. “‘Stá muerto!” he said. He looked over at me. “He is dead. The little bastard killed him!”
I stared down at the sergeant. His mouth was open, his eyes stared up at the sky sightlessly. Just under his chin, half the hilt of my knife pointed upward.
I looked over at Roberto. He was lying on the ground gasping to catch his breath. When he turned his face toward me I saw the streak of blood down his cheek.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He nodded without speaking. There was an odd look in his eyes, almost as if he were angry.
I started to walk over toward him when a scream came from behind me. There was a sudden sharp pain at the back of my head and as I spun around I felt nails rake across my cheeks. I fell backward to the ground.
I shook my head to clear my eyes as I looked up. A woman was struggling in Fat Cat’s grasp. She spit at me. “You killed him! You’re not a child, you’re a monster! A black plague from your mother’s belly!”
There was a dull thud as the handle of Fat Cat’s machete hit her and she slid silently to the ground. There was a faint trace of satisfaction in Fat Cat’s voice as he looked around and saw the other two women immobilized by Manuelo’s rifle.
“Ah!” he said. “We have found las putas!”
59
Santiago, the Indian, pulled some leaves from a bay bush and crushed them by rubbing them together in his hands. Then he bent down and scooped up some mud from the edge of the water hole. “Put this on your face,” he said. “It will stop the pain.”
Roberto and I did as we were told. The cool mud was soothing. I looked over at him. “Does it hurt?” I asked respectfully.
“Not much.”
“I’ve never been cut,” I said.
He drew himself up with a kind of pride, and traced the slight cut with his fingers. “I think it will leave a scar,” he added importantly. He looked at me critically. “But I don’t think yours will. Scratches aren’t as deep as knife wounds.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed. I would have nothing to show for it.
I looked over toward Manuelo and Fat Cat. They were huddled under a tree whispering. Occasionally they glanced at the women, who were seated on the ground at the edge of the clearing. The Santiago brothers were guarding them.
“I wonder what they’re talking about?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Roberto answered. He wasn�
��t looking at Fat Cat and Manuelo. He was staring at the women. “The young one is not so bad.”
“Do you think they’re angry with us?”
“Who?” Roberto’s voice was puzzled. Then he looked over and saw what I meant. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They would have all been dead if we hadn’t been here to warn them.”
“Sí.”
“After all, I did jump the sergeant to try to stop him.”
I stared at Roberto. I thought he had fallen. “You’re very brave.”
“So are you.” He glanced back at the women. “I wish they’d stop talking. I’m ready to fuck one right now!”
“You are?”
“Sure.”
Manuelo and Fat Cat had finished their conversation, and Fat Cat threaded his way back through the bodies toward us. When he got to Diego he stopped. Santiago walked over to him. “Poor Diego.”
Fat Cat’s voice was expressionless. “Poor Diego, my ass! He was stupid. I told him many times never to gawk. It served him right.”
Santiago shrugged, then turned away as Fat Cat continued over to us. “You boys all right?”
“Sí.” Roberto answered for the two of us.
“Bueno,” he said. “Do you think the two of you could go back and bring the horses? There is much for us to carry.”
Roberto answered before I could speak. “What are you going to do with the women?”
Fat Cat looked at him. “Guard them until your return.”
“I will stay and help guard them,” Roberto said. “Send one of the others with Dax.”
Fat Cat stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked back to Manuelo. They whispered again. Once Fat Cat raised his voice but Manuelo shushed him and they began to whisper again. Finally Fat Cat came back.
“If we let you stay, you will say nothing at home?”
Roberto nodded.
I didn’t know what he meant but I wanted to stay if Roberto did. “I promise not to say anything either.”
Fat Cat looked at me for a moment, then his voice grew softer. “You’re going to stay,” he said. “We have a much more important job for you than going for the horses. We wish you to serve as lookout. We don’t want the soldier who escaped to come back and take us by surprise like the sergeant did. Go back down the path a quarter-mile and keep your eyes alert!”
“I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. I looked at Roberto but he didn’t say anything.
Fat Cat took the pistol from his belt. “Here, take this. If you see him, fire a warning shot into the air.”
That convinced me. It was the first time anyone had let me handle a pistol.
“Be careful,” Fat Cat said. “Don’t shoot yourself.”
“I won’t,” I replied importantly. I looked around to see if the others were watching. “Don’t worry. If he’s anywhere around I’ll warn you.”
I was about a hundred yards down the path when I heard the sound of their laughter. I wondered why they were laughing. I was out of sight now but the sound still followed me. Soon I could hear it no more. When I figured I was almost a quarter of a mile away I climbed up into a tree where I could see all around me.
After about fifteen minutes I began to grow restless. If the soldier was anywhere around I hadn’t seen him. How long was I supposed to stay? Fat Cat hadn’t said anything about that. I waited a few minutes more, then decided to go back and ask him.
I was almost upon them when again I heard the sound of laughter. Instinctively I went up into the trees. Something told me that they would be angry if I came back just then but my curiosity had got the better of me.
They were all gathered at the edge of the clearing. At first I couldn’t see what they were doing because they were deep in the shadow of a huge tree. Silently I worked my way around to the other side of the clearing. But all I could see was a tangle of bodies. Suddenly I realized what they were doing.
And yet it wasn’t the way I remembered. These women weren’t screaming. They weren’t afraid. They were laughing, they didn’t seem to mind it at all.
Santiago the Older was sitting with his back against a tree, a cigarrillo dangling from his lips. There was a curiously satisfied half-smile on his face. I wondered where Roberto was. Suddenly he came out of the bushes, carrying his pants in his hand.
I stared at him. He was right, I thought grudgingly, he was bigger. It stood out in front of him like a small flagpole.
Santiago the Younger said something to the others out of the corner of his mouth. Almost instantly there was silence as they all turned to look at Roberto.
Fat Cat sat up. I could see his smooth white belly. He grunted and I heard his voice across the clearing. “It is time,” he said. “The general will be grateful. See? He is already a man.”
The woman on whom Fat Cat had been lying reached up an arm to pull him back down. Angrily he slapped her hand away. “Puta!” He pushed her back to the ground and got to his feet.
Slowly Manuelo and Santiago the Younger also got to their feet. Manuelo reached for a canteen and spilled some water over his belly and dried himself off with a bandanna. He turned to Roberto. “It is as we agreed. You have your choice.”
Roberto looked at the women. They lay there naked, their bodies still glistening with sweat, staring up at him with non-committal eyes. “I’ll take that one,” he said, pointing.
The one he had chosen seemed scarcely more than a girl. I would have picked one of the others, they had bigger tetas, but that was the one Roberto had told me he wanted. I could see his legs trembling as he moved toward her. He fell to his knees in front of her. With a laugh she reached up and pulled him down on top of her, raising her legs and locking them around him.
I could see her fat white buttocks and thighs almost encircle him. I looked at the others. They were watching with great interest. After a moment Manuelo turned and fell on the woman nearest him. I heard her grunt as she locked her legs around him. There was another cry and Fat Cat began to couple with the other one.
I looked back to Roberto again. The two of them were moving in a weird almost rhythmless dance. I began to feel an excitement growing in me. I could feel my heart hammering, a peculiar pain beginning to spread in my groin. My mouth was suddenly dry. I couldn’t breathe.
Roberto began to scream, thrashing about wildly in a seeming effort to escape the woman’s grasp. Startled, I felt myself slipping. I grabbed for the limb but it was too late. I fell from the tree almost at their feet.
Manuelo rolled over and looked at me. “Perdido!”
I got to my feet. “You lied to me!” I shouted.
Fat Cat turned his head. “You were supposed to guard the path.”
“You lied to me!” I shouted again. I flung myself at the nearest woman, jerking my hips in an imitation of Roberto’s spastic dance. “I want to rape a woman too!”
I felt Fat Cat’s hands pulling me back. I struggled. “Let me go! Let me go!”
I was still jerking spasmodically when Fat Cat pulled me up off the ground. I wriggled in his arms, hitting out at his face. I began to cry. “If I’m old enough to kill I’m old enough to rape a woman! I’m as good as Roberto!”
But Fat Cat’s arms held me close against his sweaty chest. I could smell the man stink of him and suddenly the fight and fever went out of me.
His hand stroked my head gently. “Easy, my little cock,” he whispered softly, “easy. Everything will come to you in time. Soon enough you will be a man!”
60
The women were nervous now that the men had dressed. They talked among themselves in whispers, then the oldest, the one who had scratched me, walked across the clearing. “You’re not going to leave us here in the jungle?”
Manuelo finished buckling his belt. “We didn’t bring you here.”
“But we will die,” she replied quickly. “There is no one to protect us. To get us food.”
Manuelo didn’t answer. He took out his pistol and replaced the cartridge that had been fired.
She took his silence for consideration. “Weren’t we nice to you?” she asked. “We took on all of you. As many times as you wanted. We did not complain.”
Manuelo turned away and looked at us. “Have you got all the guns?”
“Sí,” Fat Cat answered.
“Let’s go then.” Manuelo started down the path.
The woman ran after him. She grabbed for his arm. “Bandolero!” Her face was contorted with anger. “You are animals without feelings. Are we just receptacles for your seed? Any one of us might be carrying your child!”
Manuelo pulled his arm free, and the woman fell back a few steps. “Dog!” she screamed at him. “Do you expect us to die here?”
He stared into her face. “Yes,” he answered casually, then raised the hand that still held the pistol and shot her.
The bullet knocked her backward against a tree; she fell forward to her knees, slumping finally into a small fetal curl around the trunk of the tree. Her hand clutched at the earth once and then was still.
Manuelo turned and raised the still smoking pistol.
“The other two are gone,” Fat Cat said.
I looked across the clearing. Only a ripple in the foliage remained as a sign of their presence.
“Shall we go after them?”
“No.” Manuelo returned his gun to the holster. “We have lost enough time with those putas already. It is still a full day’s journey to the valley for the meat. They will be hungry at home if we do not hurry.”
Fat Cat smiled. “It will teach those putas a lesson,” he said as we began to move down the path again. “They do not own a man simply because once they have put their legs around him.”
We did not reach the valley of Bandaya until early the next morning. We came down the side of the mountain in the morning mist. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds and the valley extended green and beautiful like a thick carpet below us. I straightened in my saddle and peered down trying to locate my home. It had been more than two years since I had last seen it.
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 93