Both men were pretty broad, and I aimed for the narrowest opening I spotted between houses. "Run through here," I instructed Santiago, following him into the space. My arms scraped along the walls on both sides, and I pulled my shoulders forward as much as I could. The narrow passage way seemed to close in on me as I continued to collect scratches. At its end a heavy trash can blocked our exit. I lifted Santi on top, then pulled myself across.
The man on foot was just entering the narrow trail, and I could hear him cuss as he struggled to fit into the space. No doubt he would have to inch through it sideways. Anything that would slow him down was good in my book.
We found ourselves on the parallel street from where we had started. It was equally devoid of human activity, but as long as I didn't hear the car behind us, I wanted us to gain distance. Running uphill straight in the center was easiest and for a short distance things were going well. Right up until we crossed the next side street.
Santiago let out a shriek as he heard the tires. The car wasn't coming from behind, but was gunning for us from the side as we crossed the intersection. I grabbed Santi by the shirt and pulled him out of the way just as the vehicle shot past. It was a souped-up Toyota with unfortunate breaking and turning capabilities. The driver spun it around without ever leaving the intersection. We stayed on the sidewalk, blocked from the vehicle by the occasional parked car. I was as wide-eyed as the boy who continued to jog up the street ahead of me as fast as his little legs allowed. Yet I knew it wouldn't be fast enough.
The man on foot finally made it through the crevice, now shouting something as he came after us. If what he shouted was for his partner or us, I had no idea. All I heard was the Toyota's engine in close proximity and my blood rushing and pounding in my ears.
We needed to make it across two more intersections before brush-covered hillside would take us out of the road and closer to La Cruceta de Vigía, the dominating concrete cross that towered high above Ponce. The original wooden structure, erected to spot intruders coming by sea, had been replaced in the mid-80s by a dual-armed observation tower. It was a popular tourist attraction with a Japanese Garden I was hoping would offer us a hiding place. The approaching night couldn't come soon enough to help us become more invisible.
"Just fire at ‘em!"
I tore myself free from thinking too far ahead. "What did he just say?" I asked, my words coming out in puffs.
"They'll shoot us," Santiago yelled.
That was what I had heard as well. The man coming up the street had shouted the words to the one in the car, who drove with his window down. I looked over at him and noticed the barrel and red sight on me. I ducked, but not fast enough as I felt a searing pain along the back of my thigh. Santiago let out another scream.
"Rock," I blurted, pointing at a nearby decorative garden edge. We both dug our fingers feverishly into the ground, prying good-sized stones from the dirt. I hurled mine at the Toyota, lobbing it through the open side window. The driver shouted obscenities as he hit the brake.
"Keep running," I told the boy as I took the second rock from him. Then I stepped out between two parked cars to get closer. With every ounce of strength I could muster I threw the rock against the windshield. Over forty years of being a law-abiding citizen shattered along with the glass. There was no time for any sense of guilt to mix with the elation I felt. I knew we weren't in the clear, but we also weren't going down without a fight. Amid furious screaming, the driver busied himself with kicking out the remains of the windshield.
Behind me a popping sound sent chills down my spine. This time the one on foot was firing and as soon as I reached Santiago with outstretched arm, I angled him into an open gate and out of the bullets' straight path. Santi ran toward loose hanging wooden planks along the back fence, searching for an opening that would allow us to escape, but none were big enough.
"We can't outrun them," I said. "Help me get one of these boards off." We tore until the plank in our hands creaked and the bent nails slipped out of the crossbeam. "Get to the back of the house," I instructed, my voice a whisper. "Don't say anything."
I crouched down by the corner of the house, Santiago behind me. It took all but a few seconds until the shooter on foot came charging through the front gate. I gripped the board as tightly as my sweaty hands allowed. Aim for the knees, I told myself, that's how you learned it in self-defense class. At chest level he'll try to grab it, but he won't see it coming this low. My heart was beating in my throat and as I saw the first leg step past the house, I almost dropped the board. In one additional step, he'd be beyond my reach and that realization was accompanied by enough panic that I swung the wood forward.
The man cried out. I tried pulling the board back toward me as he stumbled to the ground, but the nails lodged in his left knee and falling, he tore the wood from my hands. As his gun skidded on the pavement, a shot went off without finding a target. I crawled over to the weapon and picked it up.
"Lorenzo?" The voice came from the gate. "Are you alright?"
I couldn't afford to wait until the fallen Lorenzo replied. Holding the gun by the barrel, I swung the handle hard against his head, which hit the ground with a dull thud. I scrambled to my feet, pulling Santiago up and behind me. My fingers were shaking as I took the gun with both hands, two fingers wrapped around the trigger and my arms outstretched. That was the easy part as I truly wanted this thing as far away from me as possible. I stepped into the grayness of the path in front of Lorenzo's spread-eagled body.
"No," I said, "Lorenzo is not alright. Drop your gun." It worked in every Hollywood action flick, and I hoped that Souped-up Toyota Driver would be as impressed by my words as the paid actors always were.
He laughed. Not good.
"You think I'm scared of you?" He jutted out his chin. "Why am I thinking you never fired one of these before?" Holding his own gun with only one very steady arm, he slowly moved forward.
I resisted the urge to back up. Think Dirty Harry. Think Bruce Willis. "You mean you didn't hear the shot?" I kicked Lorenzo into the shoulder. "Granted, I put some nails into his knee first. I can't guarantee my shots are going to be fatal, but I will try my best. Are you really willing to take the risk?" I nudged Lorenzo again and from his buddy's vantage point, it was impossible to tell if he was dead or alive.
"Come on, Santi." I started to take tentative steps around the prone body. In the encroaching darkness, it was hard to see the standing man's face clearly, but he took a step back. An encouraging sign. "Put your gun down," I said again. "This isn't even your fight. Definitely not worth dying for." I lowered the barrel of the weapon I was holding, pointing it just below Toyota Driver's mid-section. "Remember, you don't know if I'm good or bad with this thing." I pushed Lorenzo's limp leg out of the way for emphasis.
"You're nuts, you know that?" He lifted up one hand, his eyes on me, while lowering his gun to the ground with the other. "You're only making this worse for yourself and the kid."
"I'll take that chance." I motioned him to back up a few more steps until I could reach his gun with my foot. I didn't like the idea of Santiago picking up the weapon, but I couldn't take the risk that I would accidentally look away for even a second.
"What's your name?" I asked the cop.
"None of your damn business."
"Trust me, I have no intentions of writing you a Christmas card. I just figured it would be more polite to ask you by name to hand over your car keys."
All he did was snort at me.
"Fine, have it your way," I said. "Kneel down facing the building with your hands behind your head." I didn't wait until his knees were all the way on the ground before I sent the gun crashing into the side of his head. The broad swing and twist tore at the gash in my thigh, and I let out a yelp.
"Mel!" Santiago was about to wrap himself around my burning leg, and I hurried to block him with my arm.
"I'm alright," I said. "Quick. Help me go through his pockets, we need the car keys." I hesitated in putting t
he gun down, but apparently my swing was enraged enough as he lay just as limp as Lorenzo.
Santiago dug deep into the man's pockets and handed me everything he found. A pack of gum, a wallet, a mobile phone and finally, a key ring. I chucked the phone into the bushes, then took the car key off the key ring and a quick peek at the driver's license. Domingo Vargas.
"Come on, let's get out of here." I collected both guns, left all other things by Domingo's side. We hurried to brush glass shards off the seats, then took the windshield-less Toyota into the next side street and down toward the coast.
"I thought we were going to La Cruceta de Vigía," Santiago said.
"On foot, we would have," I replied. "But I think it's better if we're farther away since we made kind of a mess here." I eyeballed my little sidekick. "You did great, you know. Your father will be proud of you."
"You were like Wonder Woman." Santiago beamed. His arms flailed as he reenacted what we had just been through.
"It's not really okay to do what we did," I said. "But since we couldn't call the police, I had to protect you the best way I could."
"They were the police." Santiago looked up at me. "I saw their badges."
"Um, yes. But not all policemen are bad. These guys are the exception, not the rule."
"I know," he said. "My dad was one of the good cops."
"Really? But now he's a jewelry maker." More question than statement.
"Uh-huh."
"When did he stop being a cop?" I eased the car along the bus route we had taken this morning to Wal-Mart.
"When my mom died."
We drove in silence after these words. Santiago looked out of the window, and I didn't know what to say. If I thought our jog through the woods was difficult to digest, our latest outing hadn't even fully sunk in yet. How could I have possibly smashed windshields and clobbered grown men with guns, never mind the nails and the gun moll tough talking? None of that was me. It couldn't be. Or is this what any mother was capable of in order to protect her child?
I fished for the phone in my pocket. "I think I'd best be calling your dad to tell him where he can find us." Without going into any of the details, I advised Tee that we were no longer at the hotel, that we would meet him in the sports department at Wal-Mart instead. It was the department in the farthest corner and nearest the For Employees Only double doors leading to the loading area. I was turning into a non-trusting person and not sure that I liked it.
"Can we get some nuggets?" Santiago stopped inside the Wal-Mart doors and looked longingly toward the in-store McDonald's franchise.
"I thought we were going to eat pizza today?"
"Maybe tomorrow," he said.
I tousled his hair. "After today's adventure, I guess you earned the nuggets. How about we get the largest size they have?"
With an excited "yeah" Tee's son bolted into the restaurant and got in line.
I bought everything to go, picking up some burgers for Tee and myself along with fries and shakes. Major comfort food. I needed it. Every time I started thinking about Lorenzo and Domingo, my knees trembled, and I tried focusing on the present to regain my balance.
"Papi!" Santiago's cry made me look up from the tackle boxes I'd been staring at. I cursed my legs for getting wobbly again as I watched Tee scoop his son into his arms, holding him for so long and so close that I wanted to check to make sure he gave him enough room to breathe. Tee's hair curled wildly around his face and the deep crease between his closed eyes reflected all of his bottled-up worries.
But eight-year-olds only hold still for so long. "Papi, Mel was like Super Woman today," Santiago blurted out. "We ran from the bad guys and she hit one of them with a board. And both of them with a gun, like that" – his arms swinging like those of a batter and barely missing his father's face – "and then we stole a car."
"We borrowed it," I hurried to say, stepping closer. "We're going to leave it here so Lorenzo and Domingo can come and pick it up." I met Tee's stare but immediately averted my eyes, feeling like an uninvited intruder.
"Let's get out of here," Rafael's voice said, so hard and cold I wanted to run away. Why could I not figure out what he was thinking? Did he hate me? Did he still not trust me? Profound panic wrapped itself around my chest. Would he just drop me off at my hotel and then disappear?
"Are you…going to take me with you?" The words came out painfully small. No sign of Wonder Woman left now.
Tee stopped just as he was about to push open the door to the warehouse, looking at me with raised brows. "Of course," he said. "What else would I do?"
"She has dinner," Santiago said, still safely in his father's arms. "And guns. We have two guns." He looked over at me. "Or are we going to leave them in the car for them to pick up?"
A hoarse grunt worked its way out of Tee's throat. "No, we most certainly are not."
I noticed that he was studying me, but I resisted turning my head. Losing myself in the darkness of his eyes was dangerous right now as I couldn't predict what I would do. My heart told me I wanted to drop everything I was carrying – purse, backpack, food and everything within me – and throw myself into his arms, begging him to hold me, to let me make believe that he truly was Rafael. But my head told me that would be far from wise. So I clutched my baggage tighter than before and kept trotting along beside him.
We snaked amid stacked boxes and unloaded pallets until we reached the loading dock. Tee jumped down easily, allowing Santiago to fly into his arms like the little hero he was. I handed all of my things down and was about to squat so that I could jump off the platform when Tee wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me down. The warmth of his body – of the man I knew so well as Rafael – was just inches from me and it threatened to drive me insane.
"Thank you," I hurried to say, gathering everything off the ground. "Where did you park your car?"
"Out front," he replied, taking the McDonald's bag and his son's backpack from me. "Valentín followed me to the store. He didn't come in right away, so I think we have a few minutes to score a new ride before he'll figure out that we went out back." He turned toward Santiago. "Take Mel's hand, I don't want to lose you again."
We walked to the darkest corner of the parking lot, and I watched with a mix of fascination and horror as Tee broke into an employee's car. It went fast, and I wondered if this was something he'd learned while working as a cop or if it was an older bad habit. At this point, I figured anything was possible. We all climbed into the roomy SUV and Tee drove us off the parking lot, heading westbound out of Ponce. All three of us took turns looking over our shoulders, but nobody followed us.
"Can we eat the nuggets now," Santiago finally asked, sliding back into a seated position.
Tee smiled. "Sure. Buckle up and Melissa will hand them to you."
We all ate and it didn't really matter that the fries were mostly cold and the milkshakes warm. There were a million questions I wanted to ask Tee, but my body was feeling heavy and the starch I was consuming didn't make me think any clearer.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"There's a small parador on the way to Mayagüez. That's where we'll spend the night."
"What's a parador?" I yawned.
"It's like a hotel. Like an inn. Smaller than a hotel."
Chapter 15
The parador Mi Rinconcito was located at the edge of the forest after we passed Hormigueros and before we reached Mayagüez. Twenty-four accommodations forming a protective U around a small pool. Tee requested a room on the far end, signing us in as the Valdez Family. We paid with cash. He carried the sleeping Santiago up the stairs.
I checked twice that the door was locked, tugged at the curtains to make sure no light shone through and then sat down, watching Tee taking his son's shoes, shirt and pants off. I was mostly oblivious to the smile forming on my own face as his expression softened. He knelt next to the little boy, carefully brushing his hair aside and saying something I couldn't hear. He kissed him on the forehead, then re
trieved a moist washcloth from the bathroom to wipe the dinner remains off Santiago's face and hands.
He reminded me of Guey, of that bond she shared with Rafael Jagua that made them unaware of any outside influence, whether time or people or even threats and danger. I enjoyed it for Tee as much as I always had for Guey. But it also stung as strongly as it did when Guey was the one holding Rafael and not me.
I got up abruptly and Tee looked over. "I picked up a four-pack of toothbrushes," I said, busying myself with Santi's backpack to avoid eye contact. "Some toothpaste, shampoo." I pulled out the games and clothes. "Fresh underwear and T-shirts for Santiago." I placed everything on the table. "If it's okay with you, I'll freshen up and then the bathroom's all yours."
"Sure."
I tore open the toothbrush packet and hurried into the bath. I hadn't really planned on taking a shower, although no doubt I needed one. But more than anything, I didn't want Tee to see or hear me cry. Because as I stood there, reviewing what happened today, it finally fully hit me. The images of the Toyota speeding toward us, the bullet burning along the back of my thigh, the crushing of the glass, the nails sinking into Lorenzo's knee. I shuddered at the dull impact the gun barrels had made against human skulls, at the intentional swinging of my own hands. Both of which were now shaking uncontrollably. My arms burned as water and scratches met. I sank to the bottom of the shower, sobbing behind my trembling fingers, unable to will my legs to push me up again. We were in this together, I kept telling myself, the three of us. And yet I felt horribly alone. It was different now with Tee here. Santiago had his father back and no longer needed Wonder Woman to protect him. Another burst of tears rolled into the palms of my hands. What Wonder Woman? I was a genuine fake, a shaking, crying mess with no idea of how to get out of this situation. I hadn't acted, I had reacted. Made it up as I went along and gotten very, very lucky. A soft knocking at the door stopped me from allowing another roll of self-pity to come up from the depth of my stomach.
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