Betrayed

by Sam Morton

  "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

  "Okay," Carla said, hands on her hips, "I'm leaving you boys alone. Have a good time, and Austin, anything you want or need, please help yourself or ask."

  "Thanks. I will," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was ready to hit the town.

  As Carla turned to leave the room, Austin bent, shoving and cramming his bag, with all his perfectly folded clothes, underneath the bed in his room. He figured he'd just live out of his suitcase like he did every other vacation.

  While he was still bent down, Carla called Rico to the doorway. "Guárdelo como forma lejana su primo como sea posible. No queremos apuro. ¿Entienda?

  Rico replied "Yes, Mama." To Austin his words sounded tired and Carla's like a warning. It was the second time today he felt his senses tingling and himself uncomfortable. He wondered if he ought to tread lightly. He didn't want to make anyone feel uneasy about this trip.

  "Hey. You gonna stay down there all day or let me show you my hometown?" Rico's voice brought Austin back to the present.

  Standing up, Austin smiled and gave his friend a knuckle bump. "Let's hit it."

  The two young men walked down the main street in Carranza. Boutique-style shops lined the avenue. You could get everything from hand-made leather goods to local, hand-milled soaps and perfume from the States. Cafes and restaurants were mingled among the stores.

  "Look," Austin said, shaking his head in amazement. "There's a Pizza Hut, a Chinese place, and a Radio Shack. Who knew?"

  Rico twisted his body toward his friend, threw his arms open, smiled at Austin's reaction, and said, "We even have a Wal-Mart a couple miles from here. Welcome to Mehico, brother!"

  Rico directed his friend toward a video arcade. They entered, their ears assaulted by pings, rings, artificial gun fire, and the sound of racing automobiles. Rico pointed to the token machine as he began pulling money from his pocket. "Since we're so close to the border, it takes dollars. Most places around town do."

  They got their tokens and headed toward Arcade Legends 2009 that offered more than a hundred retro games like Space Invaders, Battle Zone, and Millipede. Each put in two tokens, Rico selected a game, and punched the "Two Players" button. The boys then shot, killed, exploded, raced, and out maneuvered each other for the better part of three hours and close to six dollars each.

  They were still there, eyes pegged to a video screen, when Veronica walked in and found them.

  She stood silently, watching. Austin might not have noticed her at all had he not felt, more than seen, someone staring at him. And when he turned around, his entire world jolted to a halt. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as this girl in his entire life–her straight, raven-colored hair, her tan skin, and her eyes…my God, her eyes. They pierced him. He believed those eyes could see right into his heart; maybe detect what he was thinking. He felt the heat of embarrassment slinking up his neck, and he silently prayed that it didn't show. He let his gaze fall, but that only made his embarrassment more evident, because he unlocked his gaze from hers only to be wowed by the rest of her body.

  She had curves he'd never seen before, and her jeans tucked around the most perfect butt he had ever laid eyes on. He had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. To Austin, she was more beautiful than every supermodel he had ever seen on television or any magazine swimsuit cover. He stood there for a moment, slowly realizing he'd stopped breathing.

  Rico turned. "Oh, hey, Veronica." He was still aiming his plastic weapon at the video screen. He turned to fire again. Without turning around, he tilted his head in her direction and said sideways to Austin, "This is Veronica."

  Austin's cheeks burned and he knew that he must be flushed. His mouth turned dry as cotton and he choked on his one, single word, "H-H-Hi…"

  "So this is your American friend," she said with a slight flip of her bangs.

  A statement, Austin noted. It was obvious his was not a mutual infatuation. No "Hi," or "You must be Austin." No, "Hello." Not even a this-is-your-American-friend that ended in a question mark. It was a declaratory sentence spoken with the same emotion of "So…this is what vomit looks like."

  "Want some tokens?" Rico asked.

  "I don't really have time for little boys' games," she said, turning on her heel. She walked away scattering the dust motes floating through the rays of the late afternoon sun.

  "Does she have a problem with me I don't know about?" Austin asked.

  Rico kept his head cocked to the side, aiming his gun at the video screen. "Probably just that time of the month."

  But Austin felt it. He knew it was something deeper. He turned and watched her walk - no, glide - through the door away from the arcade. He saw her profile as she turned, a perfect V shape framed in a tight, black tee-shirt, her chin held high, almost defiant. He wondered if she had just walked into his life or out of it forever.

  Chapter 25

  El Potrero, Mexico

  If Viktor had to guess, he would estimate there were fewer than fifty people–children included–in the abandoned school house that served now as their prison. He was surprised they had not been tortured or even interrogated much more than having been asked their names and where they lived.

  Jorge Tutura, one of the men captured with Viktor at the mouth of the caves, joined Viktor at the table where he sat. "A smart idea, no?" he said, gesturing around the cafeteria.

  Viktor furrowed his brow. "What?"

  "Turning a school into a jail. They have this cafeteria, the health room for the sick, a gymnasium, bathrooms, showers, and classrooms for us to sleep in," Jorge said leaning in toward Viktor. "Omaga is not to be underestimated."

  Viktor winced and straightened his back. "You sound as if this were some kind of vacation, amigo; like this is Club Med. Are you loco? Yes, we are in a school, but that is all we know. They have blackened the windows so we have no idea where we are, or even whether it's night or day. The guards are armed to the teeth. This is madness!"

  "No, no," Tutura said, his hands waving in protest. "I am not happy to be here. I am only saying it could be much worse." He leaned his elbows on the table, cradled a cup of coffee with both hands, and bent his head to take a sip. Pietro Sanchez, the farmer whose land Omaga had confiscated, shuffled over to the two men. He dragged a chair from beneath the table and sat down.

  Barely acknowledging Pietro's presence, Viktor said, "I only wonder what they want with us." His posture relaxed again and his mind drifted to the various possibilities, none of them good. "I mean, have they asked a ransom for our return? Do they plan to use us as slave labor? Or will they ultimately just shoot us and be done with it?"

  Pietro scratched at the surface of the table with his fingernail. "Omaga will not kill us, at least not right now."

  "How do you know this?" Tutura asked.

  "He thinks I am a stupid farmer." Pietro shook his head and pursed his lips in disgust. "There are mineral deposits in the caves on my land. He has figured out a way to make a lot of money with them. What it is, I do not know. But it must be that."

  "Why?" asked Viktor.

  "Look around you," he said waving an open palm on a slow arm around the room. "I own the caves. You were caught in them, and so were the others who are here. The caves are our only connection."

  Viktor placed his chin in his palm, contemplating Pietro's suppositions for a moment. "But you said Omaga wouldn't kill us. How do you know this?"

  Pietro took a deep breath. "I said he wouldn't kill us now. There are forty or fifty of us who have disappeared. Even if our families go to the authorities, who is to say we did not cross the border into the States, hmm?" He sat straight in his chair. "And for most of the people here, that would be a correct assumption. But if fifty bodies turn up all at once…" He shook his head vigorously. "No, Omaga knows that is too much risk for him. Too much attention."

  "So why not kill us one by one?" Viktor wondered aloud.

  Pietro shrugged. "Who knows how the mind of this madman works?"
<
br />   Viktor gave the room a glance to see who might be listening. Though satisfied no one was within earshot, he still leaned in close and whispered, "I don't think we have a choice. We have to get out of here."

  Tutura pinched his eyes together in apparent disagreement and sliced his hand through the air sideways. "No, amigo. I don't like it in here anymore than you, but right now our only sacrifice is our liberty. They haven't hurt anyone. They do not beat us. They allow us to eat and bathe. If your escape attempt fails, General Omaga may take it out on all of us, even the children. Besides, as you pointed out, we don't even know where we are. We were blindfolded when we were brought here. Even if you succeed, you may just run from this prison into a jungle or even a town filled with Omaga sympathizers. No, I want no part of it."

  Pietro remained silent.

  Viktor did not know what to think at the moment. Tutura was right. If they tried to flee and failed, it might prove disastrous, even fatal. On the other hand, he did not know what to make of a man who would choose prison bars over freedom. "All right," he said finally. "We have children here and we don't need to make them suffer for our mistakes, but I insist we come up with a plan to overcome these guards and free ourselves when the time comes. Otherwise none of us, not even the children, may have a future."

  Pietro nodded his head vigorously, "Agreed," he said, his voice quiet, yet strong.

  Tutura's face took on a smug look. He cut his gaze at Pietro and Viktor, and then in a conspiratorial whisper said, "I still believe it is a bad idea, but since you insist, amigo, just how do you think we might do this?"

  Viktor could not rationalize the feeling, but Tutura's words sent a chill of suspicion running down his spine. Something about his friend now made him check his words. "I don't know," he said finally. "I must think on this."

  "As will I," Tutura said as he got up from the table to refill his cup.

  Chapter 26

  Carranza, Mexico

  Austin noticed that Carla and her neighbors had been preparing for the block party since nearly four o'clock that afternoon. Even Armando appeared from hibernation in his upstairs office to help carry some folding tables and chairs outside. Carla draped the tables with colorful vinyl cloths and Rico and Austin pinned them down with stays in case of wind.

  At six-thirty men began rolling, dragging, and pushing their grills from behind their houses out into the street. Some had been there since early afternoon perfuming the air with charcoal and pork ribs and shoulders slathered with spicy, peppered rubs or sauces. Other neighbors were opening zippered plastic bags of marinated vegetables or chicken that hit the grill tops with a sizzle. Everywhere on the block, men and women were slicing tomatoes, cutting peaches, avocados, and watermelon. They set out bowls full of arroz blanco, seasoned white rice; pica de gallo, a tangy salsa with cilantro; and Rosca de Reyes, Three Kings Bread.

  The sweet smell of the sugars in the fruits and the spices in the prepared dishes wafted among the scent of cooking meat. By eight o'clock Austin's mouth was watering and his stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  "Hungry?" Rico asked. The boys had been swimming earlier in the Carranza River, adding to their hunger.

  "Are you kidding me? I just hope I don't embarrass your parents, man. I'm going to tear through everything I see," Austin said. He picked up a sturdy paper plate and loaded it with ribs, salsa verde, chips, and slaw. Rico followed along the food table.

  The boys balanced their overloaded plates in one hand, and their drink cups in the other. Instead of sitting with the adults, they settled on a piece of curb, legs folded butterfly-style. Austin bit into a meaty rib, crusted by the heat of a charcoal flame, when he sensed movement on the other side of Rico. He continued chewing as he swiveled his head in that direction.

  Veronica.

  He nearly choked on his food. Her movements were lithe and leonine, and he sensed that Veronica never just appeared anywhere. She arrived. Even the adults in the group seemed to offer some kind of silent acknowledgement that she'd made an entrance. The atmosphere of the block party changed. The air seemed to carry an electric charge as if a tiger–or tigress–moved among the ranks.

  She didn't speak. She perched on the curb beside Rico with a plate of food, though it wasn't piled nearly as high as the boys'. Austin decided he would try again to be friendly. He leaned forward to see around Rico. "Good to see you again, Veronica." He almost said "Roni" but he remembered she preferred her full name before making a fatal mistake.

  She tilted her head in his direction, gave him a slight sideways nod, and a muted smile. It was a beginning, he thought. Then there was an awkward moment of silence. C'mon Rico, help out and say something to spark some conversation. Austin had no sooner formulated the thought when his friend came through.

  "Austin says he likes our town."

  "That's good," Veronica said. She lifted her cup to her lips, her beautiful lips, and took a slow draw. Rico loaded a chip with black bean and corn salsa and took a huge, crunchy bite.

  "I really do like it. I was really surprised." Austin said, turning toward Veronica, hoping the body language would make talking easier. Little did he know the move and his words were the precursor to jumping feet first into a raging fire.

  Veronica set her drink down onto the pavement. Her eyebrows arched higher than Austin had ever seen anybody's, even his mother's when she was furious. "Surprised? Really? In what way were you surprised, Austin?"

  He felt his palms begin to sweat and his heart race as if he were being cross-examined in court. "Well, uh, I guess it was just more than I expected."

  "And just what did you expect?"

  Rico shifted uncomfortably, his eyes bouncing back and forth between his cousin and his best friend. "C'mon, Roni. Give it a rest."

  "No. Your friend has come to our town–to our country–and I'm interested in what our American friends believe about our culture." Veronica's steel gaze locked onto Austin. Even in the low light of the setting sun, he could see the glint in them.

  But it seemed this girl had no interest in being friendly and Austin refused to be intimidated. He cleared his throat so his voice would be firm. "Well, I guess I just didn't expect to see all the retail stores here carrying all the familiar products, and whew, the Super Wal-Mart really threw me for a loop! I mean is there a place in the world those guys don't go?"

  Rico put his palms out toward his friend attempting to quiet the rising tension and volume of their voices, both to no avail.

  "I suppose you expected to come to some third-world dirt village, where the women grind corn and hand-pat tortillas around an open fire, and the men dress up like mariachis and sing the Mexican Hat Dance!" She swept her hands in each direction. "Or maybe you thought you'd find a bunch of gang bangers cruising around with handguns in low riders with bandana's half covering their eyes. Sorry to disappoint you, but that's more prevalent in Los Angeles–you know, the one in the United States."

  "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice louder than he intended.

  Her head seemed to swivel and she pointed an accusing finger in Austin's direction as she continued her rant. "Take a moment and look, Señior Pierce, and you'll see we're much the same. We have email and the internet, cable, and satellite TV…surprise, surprise, surprise."

  He cut her off, hands raised. "Exactly what did I do to piss you off, Roni?" Austin threw his hands apart and arched his brows, too. "I mean I hadn't even said hello before you turned your nose up at me like I reeked. Maybe you should come visit my hometown someday so when you see things you've never seen before I can treat you like you just farted on a crowded bus!"

  The two had inched closer, squeezing Rico between them. They sat for a moment in an electric silence until Rico finally broke it.

  "I can tell you exactly why she doesn't like you," he said.

  Austin's eyes widened, the confirmation that the gorgeous cousin really disliked him striking a blow. Veronica's expression changed too. Her cheeks reddened and Austin thought her
pupils glowed red. If the fire in them were real, Rico would be a block of crusted ash by now.

  "She doesn't want you to know…"

  "Rico do not …" she said through gritted teeth. Balled fists hung past her trousers just inches from the curb.

  Her cousin ignored her. "She doesn't want you to find out that she has been helping people here cross the border illegally since she was twelve. She doesn't want you to know that the missing person we asked you about on IM is our Uncle Viktor. And most of all she doesn't want your friendship, understanding, or help because that would mean she would have to admit she is afraid."

  The girl stood up, ramrod straight, and threw her plate to the ground. The grace and quiet that marked her entrance were gone. She punched Rico so hard on the shoulder that he winced and grabbed it. Then she took long, gawky strides away from the pair of friends. She whisked a hand across her cheek, whether to wipe away a tear or remove a strand of hair, Austin couldn't tell. The adults again noticed her. All their eyes watched her awkward departure the same way people watched the passing of storm clouds in a late afternoon summer sky.

  Chapter 27

  Austin rose from the curb, his plate of food overturned on the street as Veronica marched off into the night. He opened his mouth to say something, but his vocal chords failed him. He wanted to tell her to come back; to talk it out; that maybe he could help.

  "Just let her go, man," Rico said with a hint of disgust and exasperation as he came up beside his friend.

  But Austin couldn't let it go. He knew she felt betrayed. He realized, if what Rico said was true, then what she was doing was wrong. But he also knew deep in his heart that he had to help her. Not her cause, not her crimes, but her, above all else. He saw in her defensiveness that whatever burden she carried, she'd borne it by herself far too long.

  He took a step toward the last place he'd seen Veronica.