by Gaby Triana
If they do, I’ll just sharpen them up again.
Two men talking around me, two men from long ago. One was the operator of the machine. The other was his father-in-law. Hunched over the first man, he watched with great scrutiny, making sure he did everything right. A lot was riding on his ability to perform this task.
On the grass between them was a third man.
Unmoving, lying on the ground. Wasn’t a part of the conversation at all. In fact…
I ripped my hand away from the metal. “What the hell?”
“Ellie.”
I whirled around. Luis stood there in shorts and T-shirt, looking way more casual than I’d seen him the other night. My head spun with heavy unseen energy. “You scared me.”
“I’m so sorry. You told me to come this way, so I did.”
“Yes…thank you. I just…”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint. It’s damn hot out here, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, I didn’t expect this much heat. But um…” Ask Luis, my intuition told me. If anyone would know, it’d be him, and something told me he already knew what was wrong.
“Oh, wow, is that what I think it is?” He navigated through the dense undergrowth, stepping over rough-cut stones I hadn’t even realized were there. “I’ve never actually seen one of these before.”
“What is it?”
“For cutting stone. Remember I said McCardle’s son-in-law cut coquina for a living? This must’ve been his tool for doing just that. See these rocks all around?” He pointed to the porous gray stones that looked like they’d been eaten by acid. “That’s coquina.”
“They’re everywhere in this yard,” I said.
“Yes, the seawall is made out of it too. It stretches all the way down. About an acre wide. Anyway, just tell me where to start.” He surveyed the buildings from where we stood. “I see these rooms over here still need shutters. Got any wood?”
I pointed to the pile we’d collected from scattered junk piles, and as Luis headed off in that direction to fetch the planks, the visions returned. I felt the heat stir around me, the ground tilt on an axis, and suddenly, I was there again, watching the two men discussing the machine and its blades.
The third man lay still on the ground. I knew he was dead but didn’t want to look at him directly. Whether or not this was my imagination or real, it felt real. Who was he? And what were they about to do? I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach so hard, I had to turn away and suddenly, I heaved the contents of my stomach into the grass.
Bacon came by at just that moment and meowed, sniffing around my feet.
I kicked him aside so he wouldn’t mess with the vomit. “Go on, get out of here.” I shooed him. He did, only in the direction I didn’t want him to—toward the machine. He leaped up onto it, did a circular walk, then growled in the direction of the men I’d seen. Men who were there. Not visions in my mind, but actually there. They’d lived here long ago. Hissing at empty air, Bacon jumped off the machine and ran through the yard.
The last thing I saw was the dead man’s leg being twisted like a chicken drumstick by one of the other men. I wasn’t sure which because I could barely keep it together. But Mayai would’ve wanted me to stay calm, open up, listen and connect, so I tried. I tried so hard, but it was taking every ounce of energy out of me. They were tearing this man apart, for fuck’s sake.
Then, I saw it—the hatchet coming down, slicing right underneath the knee cap, taking the man’s leg right off, pant leg and all. Skin him good, the man said. The less meat, the better.
I couldn’t take it anymore and turned to run, but as I did, I smacked right into a human wall. I screamed, and even as I heard Luis’s voice telling me it was okay, to calm down, I still couldn’t shake the terror of what I’d seen out in the yard. He put down two planks of wood to hold my shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s me.”
I slammed my fists against his chest, pushing away what I thought was the image still in front of me. What had that been? Why was I seeing this?
“What did you say that was used for again?” I pointed to the machine I couldn’t look at anymore. The rusted machine out in the corner of the property.
“For cutting coquina,” he said, helping me stand straight again. “The shell rock forms naturally over thousands of years, but it’s incredibly hard. They used to use all sorts of tools for shaping it. I don’t think it’s harvested anymore. Real coquina is hard to find these days. A lot of what you see is fake. Are you okay? Did something spook you?”
I couldn’t answer. I had to know more. “What else is it used for?”
“That’s it, as far as I know. Well…” He raised an eyebrow.
I didn’t like the look in his eye. Yes, Luis was an entertainer of sorts, as tour guides tended to be, and he loved the drama of a good story, but I knew what he was going to say next because of the vision I’d seen. And my body chilled up, paralyzing me to my core.
“Some say that human bones are ground up and used to make manmade coquina. All mixed up with the shell and limestone. Nobody would ever know because it all looks the same, but that’s just stuff we guides tell people on ghost tours to scare them. I’ve never actually heard of or seen evidence of it.”
I had.
Human bones. De-fleshed and ground up.
I’d seen it played out live right in front of me. But I couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him what I’d seen. I only closed my eyes one more time and, despite me trying to keep it together, the world went black around me.
FOURTEEN
Mayai was back. We were on a new part of the island.
He showed me the ships, the Spanish ships, that had wrecked on the shore, and the inhabitants, including Mayai, salvaging wood, working together to put them into piles. A new industry for the Calusa emerged—wrecking. This was one of the last times the Calusa would live on this land. Soon, more ships would come, and the tribes would scatter. Many would be killed. Some would flee on boat to Cuba.
It was hard to know who to trust, Mayai said.
Sometimes the Spanish were friendly. Other times, they arrived deranged and ready for war. If it wasn’t the Spanish killing the English, it was the English killing the Spanish, and the innocent ones aboard looked to the native people for sanctuary. Many of them lived amongst them for years. Many bred and began families.
I came from one of those mixed families.
I had part European and part indigenous Floridian in me.
Mayai was one of my ancestors.
The blackness in my peripheral melted, as my eyes adjusted to my surroundings. I was in a room, not on a beach with Mayai, and I quickly recognized the space. Room 3. A man was by my side, peering into my face as he hovered over me. “Ellie, you okay? You blacked out. What happened out there?”
“Huh?” I sat up and blinked, head pounding. It took me a moment then I remembered. “I saw something.”
“A ghost?” Luis asked hopefully, childlike wonder in his eyes.
“More like a scene, a reenactment of something that happened long ago.”
“A residual haunting.” He rubbed his chin. “What did you see?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him. But I felt so alone just then, a world away from my life in Boston with one foot in this new world in Key West that I needed to. Connection. Someone who would understand. “I saw two men operating that machine. And…it wasn’t pretty.”
“Tell me,” Luis said. I got the sense he was more interested to hear my ghostly tale than he was about getting me to feel better. “I mean, if you feel comfortable.”
“I don’t.”
Suddenly, a female silhouette blocked the open doorway. “Who are you? Why are you here?” It was Syndia, filling the frame despite her thinness.
I tried to stand to explain, but lost my balance and sat on the edge of the bed again. My grandmother used to sit on the edge of this bed, too. I wasn’t sure how I k
new that but the information coming at me lately felt real and trustworthy. “This is my friend who lives in Key West. The one I told you about,” I explained. “He came to help us put up shutters.”
“Luis Gallardo,” she said with a wary, deep tone. “We don’t need any more help.”
“Hello again, Ms. Duarte. Nice to see you,” Luis said, offering his handshake. “She fainted outside, and I think having another hand to help would be beneficial to you.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Syndia snapped, rejecting his handshake. I wondered what Luis had done to make him unwelcome here. If he was anything like me, it didn’t take much. “You asked too many questions last time.”
“I won’t ask any this time,” Luis promised. “Trust me.”
“The winds are due to arrive by tonight,” I said. “We’ve only covered half the windows. I think you should let him help us.”
She glared at us a second more, sizing Luis up. Then, she turned around and left the room. A moment later, I heard the sounds of wood being dragged down the hallway and being plopped down. Banging of planks.
Luis turned back to me. “Told you she doesn’t like me.”
“She doesn’t like anybody,” I said. “What did you do?”
“I asked her mother’s nurse questions about the family, the ghosts, the gold, because she seemed amenable to answering, and Duarte nearly bit my head off.”
“Same thing happened to me. It was like Nottie had said too much.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But right now, Duarte doesn’t have much of a choice,” I said. “I don’t see neighbors clamoring to help this woman put up shutters.” I rubbed my eyes and worked on focusing my attention, not an easy task without my meds.
We had to finish preparing the house.
I had to pretend I hadn’t just seen a dead man’s leg get chopped off for what I could only assume was to be fed into a grinding machine. A machine used to pummel shell, not human bones. What horrors had happened in this area since my grandmother left? Who would do such a thing?
“You were telling me about your vision?” Luis asked.
I decided I would tell Luis my story after he’d helped us. Once he’d assisted us with boarding up, I’d reward him. “We’ll have plenty of time for chatting later,” I said. “Let’s get the last of the windows covered up before the next rain band comes through.”
Getting up to stretch, my gaze landed on my purse sitting on the mosaic table. It was open and looked as though rifled through. “What the…” I flew over to it and checked inside. The photos were there, but I couldn’t find the brass key anywhere. “Where’s the key?”
“The what?”
“The key! The key!” I stammered, taking everything out of the purse and flipping it inside out. “Did you take it?” I zeroed in on Luis.
“No. You’ve seen my whereabouts the whole time I’ve been here, Ellie. Besides, I don’t steal.” He was indignant, and it occurred to me how I knew absolutely nothing about the man in my room. He could’ve been a thief or a murderer, and I’d just invited him here assuming he’d be safe.
No, he’s fine and he’s safe, I reminded my OCD. The world would not fall apart around me. “I was out for a while, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, you fainted, but I didn’t take your key.”
Then who did? For all I knew, that key didn’t lead to anything significant, and here I was panicking for no reason. But something told me that it did, and my intuition, if anything, had been getting nothing but stronger since I’d arrived.
Luis threw up his hands and walked out of the room. “Esta mujer, coño,” he said to zero understanding on my part. “You know what? I didn’t come here to get accused of stealing, so I’ll be heading back now. Good luck with the storm.”
“No, wait.” I began rushing out then turned back around, placed my purse inside the hole in the wall behind the safe, then stepped into the corridor. “Luis, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. I shouldn’t have accused you.”
“Listen, I’m only here to help you out.”
“You’re also here in hopes of finding treasure.” I lifted an eyebrow. I mean, it was true. “Let’s not kid ourselves. You said so yourself. You can see how I might’ve mistrusted you for a second there.”
“Yes, but we had an agreement. We said if I help you find that gold, we’d share it. I wouldn’t try and find it myself, I wouldn’t take your key without asking, and I sure as shit wouldn’t worry about it now when a storm’s on the way.”
“Fine, I’m sorry. And shh. Don’t talk about the gold out loud. You-know-who is somewhere nearby, probably eavesdropping.” I craned my neck looking for Syndia, heard banging, hammering noises at the opposite end of the property.
“Fine.” Luis pulled planks of wood off the ground and began dragging them toward the guest room without boards up on their windows.
I sighed and rubbed the stress from my face, glancing in the direction of the machine again. Nothing there but shrubbery. But something lingered, something watched from the trees. I hated the feeling that sank deep into my skin.
Following Luis, I again told myself to stay focused, worry about the storm right now. That was top priority, and we’d figure the rest out at a later time. We only had a few hours left to prepare.
The gusts of wind were getting stronger. Palm fronds blew intermittently like long green and brown hair being blow-dried by an unseen force. The giant banyan tree in the center courtyard swished in the wind. I felt chilled even though it was hot outside. Walking through the garden, I again got that heavy feeling like someone was watching, like this center hub was also the heartbeat of the property.
I stopped to close my eyes, sensing my surroundings better this way.
Behind the banyan tree, someone stood near the moon sculpture. Watching me, though there was no one. No one corporeal anyway. I heard Mayai’s voice near my ear—they took our land once before. Fight. Don’t let them take it again.
He meant my dream while I’d been passed out. I now remembered it—the ships, the bloodshed, his telling me that I was descended from his tribe mixed with Europeans. “I am fighting,” I murmured, continuing to walk around the circular stone wall. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
I’d stayed on the island fully knowing that a hurricane was on its way, fully knowing that it was crazy to do so, to stay with a woman who was unstable at best.
I stared at the moon sculpture so hard, I felt it would fall over and shatter. Suddenly, Bacon appeared, leaping out through the bushes, positioning himself between me and whatever unseen presence was in the garden. He hissed, baring his sharp teeth and flattening his dirt-filled ears.
Summer gnats flew around his face and occasionally flitted around mine as well.
“What’s wrong?” Bacon, Grandfather, whoever you are…
Luis called for me, but I was rotted to my spot. Fear and paralysis seized me. I could only stare ahead. I was sure if I waited long enough, something, or someone, would materialize. And as much as I didn’t need more distraction, I couldn’t look away.
I was about to wrench myself away when the winds kicked up another notch. The blustery breezes whipped the palm fronds high above. Go away, Ellie, another voice spoke to me. My grandmother. Go away, now.
“Nana? Where are you?”
Go away. Your job here is done.
“No, it’s not. They took your house, your husband, your fortune…” I spoke to the emptiness in front of me. My job had been to spread her ashes, but my goals had changed. I wanted to put an end to this fucked-up family’s reign. I wanted to give my grandmother back everything she’d lost.
If Mayai was right, and we were descendants of this land, then that pissed me off even more. We’d ended up in Boston, for crying out loud, instead of living out our days here in Cayo Hueso at Casa de los Cayos, my family home.
My soul filled with anger when I thought about all that might have happened over the year
s. I took the offenses personally as if they’d happened to me. In a way, they had. My hands balled into fists, and I wanted to scream. Inexplicably. Furiously. I knew it’d cause alarm and Syndia, Nottie, and Luis would come running, so I held it in as long as I could.
They’d taken it all away. Foul play.
I had no evidence. None—zero.
Except for these voices and visions.
Like the one that spiraled into my view this very second. As Bacon continued to hiss, the gnats that had been bothering him before formed a large cloud of even more tiny insects until they took the shape of a man. A tall man made out of swirling bugs with a face, fierce grimace, and everything. Handsome, formidable. Cruel smile. He held a long blade smattered with dark red. The entire vision was comprised of the flying insects.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, just like my night terrors when I was a child. Powerless to do anything. But I could speak and forced myself to utter a few words.
“McCardle…” The winds shot through the garden as though controlled by the apparition himself. Behind him, the massive banyan tree swayed. Loose, dried palm fronds fell to the ground, one of them nearly hitting Bacon.
Get out of here, the specter hissed at me.
“I will not,” I said, feeling my grandmother’s hand slipping into mine and drawing me away. But that had to be a desire of my damaged brain, because she wasn’t here. None of them were here, and Bacon was merely hissing at the wind. The battle waging was all in my head.
“Ellie!” Luis called from somewhere.
I couldn’t reply, though I understood his concern. A force was coming from the inlet, something headed this way. I felt the salty spray of ocean mist cover my face. Whatever it was, it was rogue and wild and spontaneous, appearing randomly out of nowhere.
“Ellie!” I heard Luis’s call even closer.
Ahead of me, McCardle’s ghost yelled, louder than before—GET OUT OF HERE! His voice boomed throughout the garden, just as a pair of warm, humanly arms wrapped around my torso and pulled me backwards. A half a second later, a vortex of spinning water engulfed one of the palm trees and ripped it right out of the ground, sending it shooting through the air and crashing toward us. Its thorns tore long stinging lines through my leg.