“Seriously?” Karen couldn’t get up. Tía shouted hysterically and was struggling up the bank.
“¡Regresa, Tía!”—Go back! Karen shouted.
Axe-man turned on Jay, his deadly weapon ready to swing.
Jay leveled his spear it at the man, making warning jabs. He crabbed to the right putting himself between axe-man and Karen.
The man backed off, shouting words Karen didn’t understand.
Jay yanked her up by the left arm with a jolt of pain. She managed to hang onto her crutch and machete as he dragged her away.
There was incoherent shouting behind her, women’s voices.
Looking back for the axe-wielding maniac, she saw two women giving him a real fussing. One of them even had his axe. Maybe he wasn’t such a badass after all.
Tía and Lomara were in the boat, wild-eyed. Looking back again, one of the women, the older, hurried toward them, fortunately without the brush axe. The younger woman and the madman were gone. Karen was in a state of confused pain. “¡Al bote!” she yelled at no one in particular. “¡Vamos!” She’d had enough of this place.
Everyone was in the boat, except Jay still on the bank with the spear thrust out before him. Jay had risked his life putting himself between her and a nut case. She’d have never believed him capable of that a few days ago.
Jay backed down the bank as the woman approached. She held Karen’s backpack and set it on the bank. The woman was short, dark-skinned, and wore a black, gray, and white-patterned skirt and a grubby red T-shirt. She looked worn out, half-dazed herself.
The woman immediately launched into a barrage of strangely accented Spanish all but impossible for Karen to follow. She was able to make out in the Miskito Indian dialect that the woman was apologizing for her son.
Karen’s leg was killing her, she had fallen on her knee and the bandage grew a red splotch.
The woman asked Tía who the cheles were, a Nicaraguan term for a blonde or light-skinned person.
Tía told her Karen was an American nurse who had saved their lives, certainly a change from her past opinion.
Karen picked up scraps of the conversation.
They were the only people left at Cruce Del Rio Hauhau. They said they stayed to protect their store, but it had been looted anyway by stranded truck drivers. Everyone else had left by boat for the coast; then the camioneros —truckers— left, abandoning them. No more trucks had come from the west, from across the river. They thought the road west was still impassable.
Tía asked where the road east led.
“Puerto Cabezas,” the woman said, “cuarenta kilómetros.”—forty kilometers.
It hit Karen like a brick wall. Their desperately sought goal. Only twenty-five miles.
The woman told them it was thirty kilometers by river. They would cross a small lake and then three more kilometers of river to a larger lake, Laguna de Karatá. Across the lake was Karatá village. There should be people there. It would be difficult to get to Puerto Cabezas from there in their boat, she said. But people at Karatá could take them by powerboat up the coast to Puerto Cabezas.
Less than twenty miles. One day! One more night and a wake-up. Tía was in such bad shape, they’d have to push it, Karen thought. And Jay was a hero!
An option came to Karen’s mind. Relief trucks could come through any day. They could wait, but that wouldn’t work. How long would they have to wait? They were almost out of food and Tía was growing worse. They had to get to help fast. And she’d had enough of ghost towns.
The woman asked them to send help, someone with food.
Tía promised they would. “Does anyone need treatment? The American girl can help.”
“No, we are good, just hungry.”
Karen was glad they didn’t need her help, what little she could provide. It meant they could be on their way now. She felt bad about such selfish thoughts, but she had her crew to think of.
Karen rummaged through the food bag, wobbled up the bank and handed the gaunt woman the can of corn and one of beans. Her eyes looked haunted from starvation, constant fear, and uncertainty.
“Es todo lo que te podemos dar.”—This is all we have to give you. She picked up her pack.
For the first time the woman showed relief in her eyes, thanked her touching her hand. “Vaya con Dios.”
Karen took her place at the oars, the pain making her gasp. Jay backed toward the boat never taking his eyes off the woman, shoved the boat off, and climbed in.
Karen wheeled the boat and pulled into the current. The woman waved and dwindled out of sight as they rounded the bend.
Karen rowed in spite of the blood tricking down her leg.
Tía begged her to let Jay row.
“Más tarde,”—Later, Karen told her and felt her voice quiver.
Karen’s head began to swim. Everything turned yellow-edged brown. Her stomach surged and her heart raced. She was breathing in short rapid pants. Despite the heat, a chill shot through her. She couldn’t feel the oars in her blistered hands. No. Don’t. Her eyes squeezed shut, she released the oars and she let her head collapse between her legs. She gulped air. She couldn’t drag in enough. If one more thing came at her…Don’t!
She heard Tía hoarsely shouting something to someone. Was it Jay? The only sound she heard was a buzzing ring. I just-want-to-scream-my-brains-out. Don’t! I can’t do that now, was the last thing she remembered thinking coherently.
»»•««
The air was thick, but Karen could breathe. For a panicking moment she thought she was blind, but a wet rag covered her forehead and eyes. She pulled it off in what seemed like a colossal effort. The sky’s white glare was blinding and her head throbbed. Tía was looking closely into her eyes.
“¿Cómo estás, Karena?”
“Bien,” she crooked. Not really. How long had she been out? It didn’t matter. She felt so weak, her head spun.
Tía motioned to Jay to change Karen’s bandage and clean the wound. Then she told Karen to drink.
Jay was white-faced holding the bandage dripping puss.
“You scared us to death, Karen,” he said. Concern was in his eyes.
“You did good back there, real good, Jay.” Her voice sounded like sandpaper on gravel.
“Just protecting the crew.”
Karen looked around. Okay. What have we got here? Tía was no better and slumped over in the bow, white-faced, with Lomara mopping her forehead with a rag. And I don’t feel so hot myself.
“Jay, we can be out of this tomorrow morning. Maybe sooner because we have all night. We can do it. Between you and me, if we can stay awake all night.”
“All night, on this river? You’re talking crazy.”
“No, I’m talking sense. The river’s over four-hundred feet wide and the current’s a bit faster. We haven’t seen any more obstacles. The sky’s clear and we can see the shoreline in the starlight and the moon will rise later. We’ve got to get Tía to a hospital. Heck, we all need to be in a hospital.”
“I don’t know, I guess we can try it.”
“If we can manage an all-nighter we might reach the village, Karatá, sometime in the morning, then make it to Puerto Cabezas a few hours later, if anyone’s in Karatá to help us.” Be positive, she thought. “We’ll not even stop to eat, but get a fire going in the hubcap.”
She tried to convey that to the crew. Tía only mumbled. Lomara held on to Tía.
“I’ll row then. You need to rest.”
It isn’t the same Jay, Karen thought. “Take it easy, pace yourself.”
Checking Tía’s arm only encouraged her to put more effort into this. She wrapped her up again in the hammocks, Tía was chilled, but her forehead and arm were hot.
With the pliers she hammered the machete vertically into the gunwale beside Tía’s seat. She hung the last IV bag on the machete’s handle and found a vein in Tía’s right arm.
“Don’t you die on me, Tía,” Karen all but shouted. “I’ve dragged you too far and
put up with too much of your BS for you to quit on me now.”
Tía only groaned and moved her lips.
It was nearing time when they had to start the fire. A couple of miles later they came upon a sharp bend and a stream mouth. After beaching, Jay collected wood and kindling while Lomara called down the power of the sun.
Karen knew they could do it. She was pumped up, even with her mind blurry. It was all in reach. They didn’t have any choice. This was the last of their food. They were low on dressings and antibiotics. They were all weakened, all of them feeling lightheaded—zoning out. Even if she felt pumped for the moment and Jay was in high spirits, it wasn’t going to last.
Jay heaped some sand in the boat’s bottom and set the hubcap on it. Karen punched holes in the top of the bean can and set it in the little fire with bottles of water for tea. Then she peeled the lid off the Vienna sausages and set them to heat. She thought of how Cayenne had announced that anyone taking Vienna sausages on a camping trip lacked imagination. I’d like a case of them right now, she thought.
With the beans hot, she cut its lid off and spooned half into the bowl cut from the plastic bottle, then sliced up the sausages dividing them between the plastic bowl and bean can. She and Tía alternated spoonfuls from the can as Jay and Lomara shared the bowl.
The tea, hot beans, and meat by-product sausages perked up even Tía, for the moment. Still, when Karen lifted her own head too quickly, she felt dizzy.
The sun eased down. They watched black skimmers cut their gaping beaks through the water as they flew straight and level and snatched out fish. Bats darted overheard as dusk flooded over the river.
There would be no putting into shore for the night.
Jay alternated between rowing and resting. Karen steered.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Karen woke to buzzing mosquitoes and a painful throbbing in her leg. Her face was puffy from bites. She felt nauseous and sore all over. The boat bobbed. She gagged, but didn’t puke.
Karen was hunched over the rudder. She straightened trying to work the kinks out of her neck and back. The altered sky was pink-yellow and orange over the trees, a glowing line; the rest of the dome of sky was blended shades of steel and cobalt blue in which hung a grinning moon sliver. Jay was a lump on the rower’s seat, the oars dangling in the water. Tía and Lomara were huddled in the bow.
Karen leaned over the stern, thought she was going to puke, but only tasted bile. She spit, rinsed her mouth from a water bottle, and then swallowed some.
They weren’t moving. She dipped her fingers in the water; no current.
“Jay,” she whispered. “Jay.”
His head rose slowly. “¿Mande?” Hoarse.
“It’s morning.”
“So?”
“Rema.”
“What?
“Row.”
“Okay.” And he began rowing. “Where are we going?”
“No lo sé.”—I don’t know. Rema.” She passed him the uncapped water bottle. Her head was pinging. She didn’t know which language she had to speak.
The sky lightened. They were on a lake. She soon saw a gap in the far trees, but then there were other gaps. Which way? She steered for the widest as they crept forward. As they neared she felt the current’s tug. They were in the river’s hold again. Jay took a break from rowing.
They must be heading toward the larger lake the woman had mentioned. The village where people were supposed to be was on the other side of the lake. They could hear birds awakening in the passing jungle. There was a splash beside the bank. Something big. Another. Then she saw one in the dim light, an alligator or crocodile. Nicaragua had both. ‘Gators were not a big deal, but crocs could be dangerous.
“Rema,” she ordered.
White birds flew over making obnoxious squawking noises.
“Seagulls,” whispered Jay looking up.
“Yeah, we call them Gaviotas.”
“¿Gaviotas?” said Tía. “El mar está cerca.” Her voice was a grating whisper.
“The sea is near,” agreed Karen. She worked her way forward with a water bottle and asked Tía how she was. She could barely answer.
“Peor.”—Worse. Then she said some words Karen mostly couldn’t understand. She sounded delirious.
Karen had to hold her head up to help her drink. Her forehead was hot to the touch, as was her arm. Her eyes squinted as though she were peering down a dark tunnel. Karen was afraid. She removed the empty IV bag and needle.
“Row, Jay.”
Lomara whimpered and flickered open her eyes, started, and rose to peer at Tía’s eyes, then looked into Karen’s. Karen touched the girl’s face, smiled. The girl hugged Karen and then held onto Tía, her head against her shoulder.
Popping the top off the mandarin oranges, she fed half of them to Tía, spooning the small segments into her mouth one at a time. She muttered and could barely swallow. The three of them passed the can around eating five segments apiece after Tía had gotten her share. Karen gave the syrup to Tía. No one said anything about Tía getting more than her share.
Karen held the empty can, picked at the label until it peeled off. They had absolutely nothing left to eat. She believed in saving everything in a survival situation. It would have a use. She tossed it overboard ignoring her own rule of saving everything.
They came onto a great lake. The breeze ruffled her hair. She smoothed Tía’s matted hair with a damp rag. The upward creeping sun showed Tía’s carved and creased face on her twisting head.
Karen scanned the far shore. There was no way to tell how far. She smelled the salt breeze blowing from the port bow—left front. Jay was pulling hard against the wind. She dipped her fingers in the lake, it tasted brackish—salty. The green-black shore was in shadow with the emerging sun behind it. She saw a point of light, then others appeared. There were stilted houses and if there were lights it meant people.
She pointed and Jay turned looking over his shoulder.
It was hard going against the wind. Village lights winked out as the day began.
There were palms along the shore and the black line of a pier. Boats of all colors were tied to it.
We’re here. We’ve reached it. But she wasn’t celebrating yet. They had to cross the lake.
Jay heaved on the oars.
The water ahead was choppy with white caps spreading in a band. The winds were harder and Jay was straining, barely making headway. The rising sun had turned the wind to blow on-shore.
Don’t fail us now, Jay, she thought. She knew she didn’t have the strength to row.
They were among the chop. Karen thrust her hand in the water. There was a strong pull seaward. It was more than just the weak current of the river flowing across the lake to its mouth opening into the Caribbean. It had to be the tide, running out of the lake—low tide. It was dragging them with it. They were making no headway toward the village. The boats at the pier looked smaller.
Two men on the pier waved their arms. Yeah, I know you’re there, Karen thought. She had other things on her mind all of a sudden.
The tidal current drew them toward the ocean, but the stiff wind blew against them. No amount of pulling on Jay’s part made any progress in either direction. They were at the mercy of the opposing wind and tide. Karen had an image of them being stuck there unable to get out of some weird wind and tide vortex. The choppy surface was getting rougher rocking their little boat. Jay couldn’t control the boat. Karen’s efforts to counter-steer with the rudder-oar were no more successful. They turned sideways to the wind and tidal current with the bow turning to the left until the boat faced in the direction they had come from. The wind pushed the surface waves toward them. These weren’t waves rolling onto a beach or undulating swells. They were short choppy waves jolting the boat sharply and rocking it harder as it turned abeam to windward, thumping hard against the Nuestra Esperanza.
Everyone grabbed the gunwales as the boat rocked violently sideways, except Tía—she couldn’t.
The thrusting wind rocked it to the left and then the pulling tidal current rolled it back to the right. This continued erratically as wind gusts burst upon them and then the out-pouring tide momentarily gained the upper hand. They osculated in hard jerks forcing them to hold tight. Tía’s eyes were wide with fear and she doubled over in pain. Lomara latched tight onto her. Jay pulled in the now useless oars and struggled forward to hold Tía. As Jay lunged forward and raised the boat’s center of gravity, it rolled hard to the left so deeply that it gulped water over the side. Jay went in so fast he didn’t even shout. Karen leaped to the opposite side keeping low as the boat rocked back. The undertow pulled Jay back to the rocking boat. Karen reached for the non-swimmer. She missed. His head and shoulder sickeningly cracked into the boat’s side. Instead of catching his arm, all she caught was a glimpse of his dazed face as he was pulled beneath the boat. She heard him bump against the bottom. Horrified, she turned to the other side. She didn’t see him come up. The boat suddenly counter-rolled to take on more water.
The flooding water rolled with the boat and sloshed its weight to the port side with the next wind-driven roll hitting the same instant Lomara reached to help Karen. Lomara went over the side with the counter-roll to starboard releasing a cutoff squeal. Flailing his arms, Jay bobbed up thirty feet away. The tidal rip-current dragged him away fast. Karen didn’t hesitate a second. Nothing else mattered. There was no time for fear or logic or concern about her damaged leg. She dove overboard from the half-flooded boat leaving Tía to her fate.
With sickening clarity, Karen knew she couldn’t save everyone. She grabbed water with her arms and kicked and then her injured leg seized up, useless. Lomara was only feet away, but being pulled farther. Karen swept with her arms kicking the best she could. Her leg was like a lead weight. Panic raged through her as she struggled to fight it off and pull toward the frantic girl. Somewhere behind her, it sounded far away, she could hear Tía screaming, a forlorn wail of pure anguish. Karen didn’t look back. She dug her arms into the waves. A wave slapped her face and she spit out saltwater. She grabbed and little arms clamped around her. The girl’s weight dragged them both beneath the surge. Karen kicked, and pulled with her free arm. There was a sick sensation of the need to simply release Lomara and jet to the surface and air. Instead, she hung onto her tight.
Tears of the River Page 20