I entered “Benny’s” quarters to find him passed out on the floor. I called his name, trying to wake him, but at the same time trying not to make myself vomit. He rose from the floor and tried to regain some dignity left over from the night before.
“Here, read this. I think it’s from Don. Let’s see what that sonuvabitch has to say about costing fifteen men their lives.”
Benny focused his eyes. “It’s not from Karcher. It’s from your other friend, Jake. I’m sorry, Steven. He says your mother has passed away. He wants to know if you want to come home.”
I stood in disbelief, still dizzy from a night of drinking. I excused myself and went outside to throw up.
Chapter 33
After composing myself, I reentered Benny’s tent and was greeted with a hug. He had spoken earlier about his own mother’s death, and maybe he thought I needed an embrace.
“You’re free to go, Steven.”
Benny didn’t know my history and the fact that if I returned home, I would be arrested for leaving the country. Also, my journey had not been completed.
“I’m staying.”
A brief smile crossed Benny’s face, and he put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad…we need you.”
Benny organized a memorial service for my mom. Although no one here had ever met her, they treated it like she was a member of the family.
I thought to myself, Mom would have loved this.
Afterwards, it was business as usual. Benny chose some soldiers to return to Balso to pick up the supplies that we had not been able to get. He cautioned them not to take any unnecessary risks.
Benny motioned me inside his tent. “Karcher has cut off our funding. I guess he didn’t appreciate your message.”
“I’m sorry, Benny. Maybe I was too rough on him. But his carelessness cost the lives of fifteen brave men!”
“Steven, it doesn’t matter. We’re hopelessly undermanned. No amount of money was going to change that.”
He reached into his briefcase and then opened a file folder detailing a change in strategy. We were no longer to fight Miguel’s army; we were to assassinate him via sharpshooters.
He used the phrase “cutting off the head of the snake to kill the body,” meaning: “kill the leader and his followers will leave.”
“I am using all of my contacts to locate the best marksmen available. We will station them around the perimeter of the presidential palace. If Miguel walks past a window, bang! He’ll be dead. Steven, I’m counting on you to take part in this mission.”
I wasn’t sure how much he remembered from our night of celebration. I had given him my whole story, but I wasn’t sure he was cognizant of my explanation. I thought a refresher course was in order.
“How much do you know really know about Miguel?” I asked.
He reached for a different file folder and leafed through it. “Surprisingly, not much. He was a religious figure in your home town, then he resided in Santa Domingo, where he also posed as a priest. He was never officially ordained. He gained a massive following in Santa Domingo and started revolting against the government. It’s odd that we were never able to find any other record of him. No passport. No Ecuadorian citizen number. No Social Security number. He’s never voted, never had a traffic violation, no hospital or dental records. We don’t even know his last name. It’s as if one day this guy just appeared out of nowhere.”
I interrupted him, leaned in, and spoke intently. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Benny. He’s not human; he’s an agent of the Devil! An Exalted Demon! He steals souls and holds them for Lucifer! Bullets aren’t going to kill him! You’ve got to believe me!”
“An agent of the Devil? Exalted Demon? Nonsense, he’s a man just like you and me. Steven, I’m a military man. I deal in facts, figures, trends, and personal profiles. To me, war is a science, and believe me, a bullet will kill Miguel!”
I started to leave when Benny continued reading his dossier.
“He’s also had two male children by two women. The first woman died of complications from malaria, and the second one is missing and presumed dead. The male children are twelve and eight. The oldest one is with his father, and the youngest one’s whereabouts are unknown.”
I was stunned. As far as I knew, the first woman that Miguel had a child with was Beth. A lump grew in my throat at the thought of her being dead. She had been my first love. I pictured her wearing those gypsy-type tops and long flowing dresses. Besides Alexa, she was the most important girl in my life.
“Does it say where the first woman is buried?” I asked.
Benny shuffled through his papers and replied, “No.”
***
I excused myself and wandered back to my cot. I laid there and realized that in the last few days, I had found out that my mom and my first love were dead. I knew my mom would have never sold her soul to Miguel, and Beth had had such a deep belief in God that selling her soul would have been inconceivable.
Yet, I felt both were victims of Miguel’s wrath. My anger raged.
The soldiers returned from Balso with supplies and some fliers that had been posted throughout the village.
They were wanted posters for Benny and me, offering a handsome reward for our capture or proof of death. Another flier was for the annual “Dance of the Devil” celebration held in Pillaro.
They had our pictures and stated that we were wanted for the murder of many soldiers under Miguel’s regime and we were deemed “armed and dangerous.” They also had a drawing of my Battle Ring. They said that a separate reward would be given for its return and that it had been “stolen” from the Catholic Church.
I showed Benny. “Not the first time I’ve had a bounty on my head,” he said nonchalantly.
But it was new to me. Now, not only did I have to fear Miguel’s soldier’s but I had to worry about anyone―including my fellow soldiers―who needed money, which in Ecuador was just about everyone.
I felt like I had a huge bullseye on my back.
***
While Benny and I were concentrating on the killing of Miguel, the rest of the battalion was readying themselves for the “Dance of The Devil”, a six-day celebration of debauchery, by making more wine and creating some scary-looking masks to be worn. It was the biggest festival in Ecuador. Benny had relieved most of the volunteers of their duties as we waited for the sharpshooters to arrive in camp.
Nearly fifty marksmen arrived on loan from surrounding countries. Benny had called in every favor he could muster. He held a meeting and gave the order to pair up, and all were given locations to settle in around the perimeter of the Presidential Palace and wait for clear shot.
I thought it was a futile attempt to kill Miguel, but I followed orders in a hope that maybe I was wrong and someone, anyone, could kill him and we would all be able to go home and be with our families.
***
We took our usual trek on the halftrack to the palace, with Benny leading―mounted on Olympus―and took our assigned positions and waited…and waited. For four days, we held our posts, sleeping in shifts with the palace windows in our crosshairs. There was no movement and no reaction from my Battle Ring. I kept thinking about what Raphael had said about Miguel being a narcissistic egomaniac who thrived on attention. With the biggest festival in Ecuador going on, why would he be home when he could flaunt himself to (what he considered) an enamored public?
On the fifth day, Benny called the mission off, and we returned to camp. While the rest of the sharpshooters hit their cots with bleary eyes, I dug through my duffel and changed into my Ecuadorian street clothes. Before stowing my bag, I caught a glimpse of the rosary beads Susan had given me and my dad’s running shoes. I stashed the beads in my front pocket and put on my father’s shoes. What better shoes to wear if I needed to be fleet of foot? With my father’s shoes, my wedding rings, my Battle Ring, my Holy Stick, and Susan’s rosary beads, I felt complete.
I entered Benny’s tent.
“I’m
going to Pillaro,” I told him.
“Permission denied,” was his response.
“I’m not asking permission; I’m telling you. I’m going to Pillaro! I’m only telling you this because I need transportation.” I actually told him this in hopes that he would come with me.
“We’ve got intelligence information that Miguel is in the palace. He was seen entering last week, and he hasn’t been seen leaving.”
Once again, I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. “Benny, he doesn’t come and go like you and I do. I can’t explain it. He just appears places, and no one knows how he does it!”
Benny appeared pensive and responded, “OK…go. But on one condition.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I go too.”
I smiled as Benny changed out of his uniform and into his “civvies.” He still donned his trademark pearl-handled six shooters and the panama hat. He also wore an ammunition belt like a sash that made him look like a Mexican bandolero.
Despite Benny’s objections, I took no firearm―just my Holy Stick.
He left his tent for a moment and returned with Olympus and Mercury, all saddled and ready for combat. I didn’t have the courage to tell Benny that I had never been on a horse; I thought this was not the time. I hung on for dear life as we rode nonstop and arrived in Pillaro shortly after midnight.
The old man’s words echoed in my head about Father Patrick: “…his soul is alive, and his spirit rides with you.”
With a sore butt, I dismounted Mercury. It was the final and most rambunctious night of the festival. Morality and sobriety had been thrown out the window. The next thing was to find Miguel or someone who could take us to him. I used my Battle Ring as guidance. I wandered through the crowd as it detected Evil.
“How the Hell are we going to find him?” Benny asked.
I had a plan. As soon as my ring turned red, I started reciting the Lord’s Prayer and trusted my instincts down the path of Evil. My Battle Ring was crimson, and even the casting was getting hot. I continued praying in the name of a prophet that I had yet to accept as my own. The crowd was in a frenzy as I made my way down a narrow alley.
I spoke just as I had when I baptized Miguel Jr.
With vigor and defiance towards Evil!
The crowd parted, and a giant of a man appeared from nowhere. He turned and removed his festival mask.
It was Miguel.
As he approached me, I felt myself trembling, and I retrieved my Holy Stick from my belt loop.
I remembered Father Patrick’s words: “…you must believe in the ring and not fear him. If you fear him, he will own you.”
“So, Steven. Here we meet. Just as Fate desires. And while meeting me might be your destiny, so will be your death!” As Miguel spoke, cindery smoke exited from his body. His stench was all too familiar from when he turned Alexa’s body into dust and from when he entered my bedroom when I was young, weak, and afraid, trying to coerce me into becoming his disciple.
With great suddenness, one of Miguel’s followers rushed towards me. In a flash, Benny drew a six shooter and gunned him down. He kept his guns drawn and commanded the crowd to back away. I gave him a grateful nod, and he pushed back the brim of his panama hat with the barrel of his gun.
With my eyes looking at Benny, Miguel charged my way, knocking me to the ground and spewing hot cinder into my eyes. I struggled to regain my vision as he grabbed a prop pitchfork from one of the festival attendants. He licked his finger and touched the center prong. It was real. He took several jabs, trying to skewer me and end the fight. With my Battle Ring fully engulfed in crimson, I dodged the attempts, and we both went careening into a vegetable cart. The drunken crowd was cheering like it was a show and part of the celebration. I got close enough to grab him in a clinch. With my left arm around his waist and my right arm holding my Holy Stick, I plunged my weapon deep into his stomach.
“Voya con Dios [expletive].”
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he let out a groan. Black oily blood exited his torso at an alarming rate. It was more blood than any human body could contain. He pushed me away as I fell in the slippery black blood. He lunged at me, and I side stepped him, plunging my weapon into his neck. Now more black blood flooded the streets, knocking over vendors and their booths. The crowd looked on in horror as a nest of vipers exited his gaping stomach wound. The snakes were everywhere and chased the festival goers from the streets
There was a lull as both Miguel and I stood assessing our situations. The ground trembled, and the sky turned red. Black blood continued to flow from his neck wound. Soon it had covered his arms and legs and turned into a leathery skin. With great horror to the crowd, Miguel’s body convulsed and gyrated, growing in height and transforming itself into a serpent.
Time seemed to stand still as I examined the reptile. I flashed back to the sight of the serpent that graced the statue with St. Michael at Father Patrick’s church. It looked identical. I looked for Benny. He had shimmied up a street lamp to escape the onslaught of blood and snakes, but he still had a confident look.
Miguel turned and slithered into a nearby forest, accompanied by his army of vipers.
I gave chase as Benny ordered me to stop and warned me that it might be a trap. I could hear Miguel the serpent and his brood of vipers through the rustling of the leaves and saw a trail of black blood. They were much faster than me, as I was having to deal with vines and underbrush.
I exited the forest into a barren wasteland and saw Miguel the serpent, well in front of me and heading for refuge in a dark, desolate area that appeared to be a gated cemetery.
I picked up my pace and began running faster. I could feel that the end was near as lightening from the heavens struck the ground before me! With each strike from above, I felt different. I was faster, more powerful than before. I felt air beneath my feet and found myself in a very spiritual, surreal, dream-like existence. I was flying high above the ground with Miguel the serpent in my sights.
I landed outside of Miguel’s sanctuary. He lay still behind the gate, still in serpent form, as his vipers guarded him.
I looked at my surroundings as well as myself. With every lightning strike, I had been transformed. My body was adorned with a magnificent breast plate and warrior garb from centuries before. Wings protruded from my back. Gone was my Holy Stick. It had been replaced with a gleaming sword. I was still wearing my dad’s shoes and my rings, and I felt Susan’s beads in my pocket.
From my time with Father Patrick and my conversation with the old man in Balso, I knew who and what I had become.
I concentrated on Miguel the serpent as the vipers protected him.
Once again, my memory jogged to the lessons Father Patrick had given me about the Devil. It was apparent that I had arrived at “The Gates of Hell.”
Behind Miguel were thousands, if not millions, of his stolen souls wanting to be freed. They were all semi-transparent, weak, and frail. Black cindery smoke purged from the ground as it pulsated, and ancient gravestones served as bleak reminders to all of Hell’s citizens. There were bright red eyes and a dark silhouette that looked on in the distance.
I could only guess that it was Lucifer himself.
I entered the black gate as some of Hell’s henchmen closed and locked the entrance behind me. I knew full well that I would have to kill Miguel to escape.
A voice rang out. It was female and all too familiar. “Steven! Don’t do it! Save yourself!”
It was Alexa. It had been over ten years since I had heard her glorious voice, and it had not changed.
I dropped my guard and called her name.
She forced herself to the front and again warned me not to fight Miguel.
I had traveled too far and had been through too much to back down now.
I took a battle stance as Miguel uncoiled and prepared for my wrath.
He unhinged his jaw and made a strike that sent me scurrying behind a weathered gravestone. I lunged at h
is face, plunging my sword into his neck. At the same time, he swung his tail, clipping my arm and leg, sending me head over heels into a group of Hell’s henchmen. They quickly grabbed me and threw me back to the battle at hand.
I found myself on the defensive as Miguel continued striking, missing and then hitting me with his tail. I lay helpless on the ground as Miguel began wrapping his body around my waist, constricting my airflow. I began pounding my fist into his reptilian skin, using the hand that wore my Battle Ring. With each punch, Miguel would let out a groan, and each time the amulet in my Battle Ring would touch his skin, it would burn him. He uncoiled his grip, and I escaped.
I was leaning against the gate, and I was short of breath as Miguel prepared to end the battle. He poised himself and launched with an unhinged jaw in hopes of swallowing me whole.
Without notice or thought on my part, my wings expanded and engaged the air, lifting me beyond Miguel’s reach and sending him crashing into the ancient iron gate. His head became lodged between the vertical posts.
Now was my chance.
An unexplainable force lowered me onto the neck of Miguel the serpent. He was furiously attempting to free himself from the capture of his own domain. With my Battle Ring nearly black, I summoned all my strength as I placed my feet, which wore my dad’s shoes, on the back of Miguel’s head and grabbed the fence, making it impossible for him to escape. I drew my sword, and as lightning struck the ground, a picture entered my mind of the statue of St. Michael slaying the serpent. I poised myself for the kill. Miguel screamed for mercy. I showed none and lanced the serpent, killing him.
It was over. The killing of Miguel had been completed.
The dark silhouette with red eyes stood. Lucifer was to be my next opponent.
“Not today [expletive],” I said, as I felt I had reached my limitations. My goal of killing Miguel and avenging my dad’s death had been achieved. I wasn’t about to push my luck.
The Killing of Miguel Page 16