Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase

by Marjorie Thelen

Elena hunkered down and stroked Miguel’s hair. None of them spoke. Outside the wind howled in deadly earnest. When Miguel’s sobs quieted, Dominic released him, took out his handkerchief, dried Miguel’s eyes and wiped his nose.

  “Hey,” Dominic said, “how about something to eat? One of the town ladies brought us some soup and pupusas. I can warm them on our burner in the kitchen. Probably there are cookies, too.”

  Miguel sniffed and nodded his head. Dominic caught Elena’s gaze. They exchanged an unspoken understanding about Miguel, that whatever it took they would take care of him and protect him.

  Miguel followed Dominic to the back. Elena took on the task of warming the food, while Dominic helped the boy change. Elena served the repast, and they sat together at the small clinic table.

  “Elena,” Dominic said, “I think we should ride out the storm here at the clinic. We have cots and blankets, water and food. The building is sound. Then I can be here if anyone needs me.”

  “I can help you, and we’ll know that Miguel is safe with us.”

  “Then you’ll stay?”

  “I will. I’d like that.” She smiled back at him, and he saw in her beautiful eyes and her easy smile a willingness that stirred unholy ideas in him.

  “Then it’s settled.”

  Elena finished and cleaned up the kitchen. She helped Miguel settle on a cot squeezed into one exam room. Dominic listened to her tell the child a story that sounded very much like Little Red Riding Hood, while he worked pulling cotton blankets from the storage bin. Miguel was soon asleep. Exhaustion had caught up with him.

  “What’s next?” Elena asked, coming to see what he was doing in the main room.

  “Here, have a bag of donated clothes. We need to sort them. Size them as best you can and arrange them on the shelves we have labeled.”

  Elena threw herself into the task, humming a tuneless song as she worked. Dominic closed the windows in the back and secured the shudders. The clinic was solidly built of cinder block and cement and was surrounded by other similarly built structures. He wasn’t worried about the walls. It was the corrugated tin roof that might be a problem, if the wind were strong enough.

  The rain kept switching directions and blowing into the clinic, so he pulled shut the big metal sliding panel that formed the wall of the clinic that faced the street. He opened the single door in the panel so that people would know they were open.

  Townspeople drifted in and out for medical help, water, advice and to exchange news of the progress of the storm. Dominic helped as needed, glad to be doing something useful, glad to have Elena and Miguel under the same roof with him, glad in spite of everything that he had come to Copan Ruinas.

  * * * * *

  The storm worsened, and people stopped coming. Dominic shut the front door because rain kept blowing into the clinic. Corazón had gone home to be with her family. The cell phone still worked, and they were in touch with the police department. Connie told them not to leave the building. She had grounded all motor vehicles. No one was to be on the streets. It was too dangerous.

  By night time, the wind was so ferocious the entire building shook. Water leaked under the doors and windows, and rain blew sideways. They stopped the generator to conserve fuel and lit candles.

  Elena sat down to rest on one of the cots Dominic had set up in the main room. She listened to the storm. The banging and crashing outside set her nerves on edge and made her jump more than once. Fury was the word that came to mind. A fury had been unleashed outside, and she peered up at the ceiling, wondering if the roof would hold, wondering how her mother was fairing at the hotel. Knowing her mother, she was probably involved in a hurricane party. She thought of doña Carolita and knew she would be safe with her family. She thought of the child- mother Angelina in her village and wondered if she would be all right with her mute child, Eduardo. She thought of Armando and his family in their flimsy shanty home. She hoped they had taken refuge in a shelter. Fear dug a pit in her uneasy stomach. She prayed they would all make it through. And she was not a praying woman.

  Dominic sat down on the cot across from her. The storm put an edge on everything including her awareness of Dominic’s close proximity.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “So far, so good,” she said in what she hoped was a neutral voice. “I didn’t realize a hurricane could be so noisy. How long will this go on?”

  “Depends on how well formed the storm is. That’s hard to track since the radio is dead. If it has a well formed eye, when that passes over everything dies down for a while. We might even see the moon. Then the whole fury starts again. When the eye comes, I’ll go out for awhile to check on damage and casualties, see if anyone needs help.”

  “Funny you used the word fury. The same word came to me. Fury. Mother Nature sounds like she is furious with us.”

  Dominic smiled ruefully. “She probably is. Maybe she feels we’re a poor excuse for a human race and is trying to wipe us off the face of the earth.”

  His gaze held hers. “Are you really okay?” He reached out and took her hand in his. “You aren’t scared are you?”

  “Fine, I’m fine. I’m glad I’m with you.” She squeezed his hand.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I can look after you and not worry about your safety.”

  “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

  “You’re hardly a burden, Elena.”

  The moment hung between them. Dominic gently rubbed her hand, and Elena couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t take them down a dangerous road.

  It was going to be a long night.

  * * * * *

  Dominic raised his head and listened. It was quiet. The eye of the storm must be over them. He looked over at Elena, lying on the cot beside his. He sat up, trying not to disturb her, but her eyes opened. She must not have been able to sleep either.

  Everything not nailed down had been on the loose outside in the storm. The noise at times had been deafening. And frightening. They had spent a good deal of time trying to stop leaks around the windows and doors. Water ran down the walls. Pails and pans were scattered over the floor of the clinic to catch dribbles of water from the new roof.

  “I’m going to check outside,” he said.

  “What time is it?”

  He peered at his watch. “Almost two in the morning.” He squeezed her hand and lingered over the warmth of it. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll check on Miguel,” she said.

  He walked barefoot to the single panel door and unbolted it. It had held against the wind. Puddles of water spotted the floor and were cold against his bare feet. He could hear running water. It dripped from the overhang in front of the clinic. He stepped outside. There was no breeze. A half moon lit the landscape of what was left of Copan Ruinas. Across the street a power pole had snapped mid-way, and the line draped onto the ground. He thought he could see other figures moving in the distance. Debris was everywhere. Back inside, humidity weighed heavy in the air and covered him in a wet blanket.

  Elena appeared from the back of the clinic. “Miguel is sleeping. He has to be really tired to sleep through this.”

  “Or he is accustomed to chaos in his life.”

  “Or he finally feels safe enough to sleep.”

  “That, too.”

  Dominic pulled on socks and boots.

  “Would you try to call the police station on the cell phone? I’m going to walk around to see if anyone needs help and try to keep from getting electrocuted in the process. Stay with Miguel. This will be the safest place for you.”

  “Okay.” She found the phone, input the number, and listened. “I’m not getting anything.” She tried again and shook her head. “The tower must be down.”

  “Don’t go out,” he said, “I’ll be right back. Promise me.”

  She nodded and smiled and that reassured him.

  The stillness of the scene struck him first. Then the destruction. It was worse than he imagined. The flashlight re
vealed obstacles in his path. He picked his way through trash. He crawled under a pole leaning against a wall after he checked to make sure no electric wires went with it. Clouds scudding across the moon created a weird play of shadows.

  A man stood in a doorway on the next block. Dominic hailed him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked the man, who he recognized as one of the clinic volunteers named Angel.

  “We’re fine for now. I don’t think we sustained any damage so far. Everyone is pretty scared.”

  Dominic walked on. Power lines hung low across the street. He couldn’t advance any farther. He doubled back past Angel’s house and turned up the street before the clinic. More people were moving about. He had decided to turn around when someone shouted, calling his name.

  “Señor Dominic,” the man said, “can you help us?”

  Dominic searched the roof tops for the person calling. At first he didn’t see the figure, then after another shout, he spotted Jesus, who had played in the marimba band the night of the celebration.

  “A wall fell down at my neighbor’s house, and we need help. One of the family is trapped.” Jesus motioned for Dominic to come in by a door on the street.

  Dominic hurried in. A man was trapped, and it took half an hour to clear the rubble and free the man’s leg. He couldn’t stand on the leg. Dominic suspected it was broken.

  “Let’s try to get him to the clinic so I can brace it.”

  The man shook his head. He wouldn’t leave his family. They tried to make him comfortable on a soggy couch in what was left of their living room, now half open to the sky.

  “I’ll go back to the clinic to get a temporary splint for his leg and some pain killers. I’ll be back,” he said to the distraught family members. The wife blessed him. Dominic hurried away but getting back to the clinic proved harder than anticipated. More people were on the street, many he knew. Everyone had questions about other people and damage. By the time Dominic returned to the clinic, he knew he had to hurry because the next round of the hurricane was coming. The breeze was picking up.

  “Elena,” he called as he stepped through the door opening. He beamed the flashlight around the room. When he didn’t find her in the main room, he walked toward the two exam rooms in the back. Maybe she was with Miguel and had fallen asleep.

  “Elena?” he called. His voice echoed hollow on the bare walls.

  He searched both exam rooms. The cot where Miguel had slept was empty, the blanket thrown on the floor. Maybe they had stepped out to get a view of the street. He hurried back to the front door. A breeze caught him as he crossed the main room, and he looked toward the windows in the back of the clinic. One stood open. He remembered closing them before the storm.

  He shined the flashlight around the floor, the windows and into the alleyway. The door he had used to slip out the night of the party stood open. He exited and flashed the light up and down the alleyway. No sign of Elena and Miguel. He hurried down the alley to the street, dodging sodden garbage. They couldn’t have gone far. Why did they leave through the side door?

  He hadn’t passed them on the way. He turned in the opposite direction on the street and started walking, shining the light in all directions. He hailed a woman he did not recognize who stood on the sidewalk.

  “Have you seen a woman and a small boy come by? She is tall with dark hair. Very pretty.”

  “No, señor, I have not.”

  He willed the rising panic out of his heart so it could not take up residence. He couldn’t afford to give way to fear. He had to keep a clear head. Think. Where could they have gone? A horrible thought struck. They would not have left of their own accord. Elena had promised to stay. She knew the danger. She wouldn’t expose Miguel to the elements. Dominic trusted her, and his gut instinct told him that she wouldn’t have left unless someone forced her to leave.

  He closed his eyes. Dominic didn’t believe in bargaining with God. But now he did. If the Almighty kept Elena and Miguel safe, he would never again forsake his calling. He needed his floundering faith to help him through this ordeal.

  He knew what he had to do.

  He hurried back to the clinic, searching for signs of Elena and Miguel as he went. He ducked into the open door of the clinic, sweeping the room with the flashlight, hoping they’d come back.

  No one was there.

  He yanked a backpack out of the metal locker where he kept emergency rations and threw in a temporary splint for the injured man and several bottles of pain killers. He crouched and felt behind the metal locker for a box and pulled it free. Inside was the pistol Connie Lascano had issued him. He scribbled a note in case Elena returned and left it under the lamp on the table in the main room. Outside the wind ruffled his hair. He knew he had precious little time before the fury returned.

  Seventeen

  Elena and Miguel were hunched over, hugging each other.

  “Are you okay?” She wiggled to make more room. The space was not big enough for two of them.

  “Shut up in there.” Jorge banged on the metal cabinet lid of their prison.

  When he had staggered soaking wet into the clinic Elena hadn’t recognized him. What she did recognize was the gun. He had brandished it in front of her face and told her to shut up and get the kid before her boyfriend came back.

  Elena had had a tough time waking Miguel. He responded like he had been drugged, like he didn’t want to acknowledge the storm or the trouble they were in. Finally, she had picked him up and carried him out of the clinic -- at gunpoint. She had no desire to play hero. She wanted to protect Miguel. She wasn’t sure what Jorge was going to do with them, but she knew now that he was the killer.

  She could hear him rattling something on the metal box, and a sickening feeling gripped her. He was locking them in.

  “There,” he said in a loud voice. “That should hold you. Don’t try anything.”

  “Wait,” said Elena. She would not let fear overtake resolve. “I know what you are looking for. If you let us go, I’ll help you find it.”

  Silence at first. Then Jorge said, “How do you know I am looking for something?”

  “I figured it out. The Museum director had a book with a drawing in it that gave me the clue.”

  He fumbled with the lock and threw open the lid. Elena hugged Miguel close to her side. He turned his head into her shoulder, as if to deny Jorge and the whole ordeal were real.

  Jorge pointed the gun at her. “What are you talking about?”

  Elena was grasping at straws. All she had was a hunch why the first man was murdered, and she hadn’t been able to work it all out until fear had her in its lucid grip.

  “What are you talking about, I said?”

  He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up so hard Elena winced. She faced up to him hands clenched, jaw tight with determination.

  “You killed that man, and you were blackmailing the director. But you haven’t found what you’re looking for because you don’t know where the murdered man hid it. I do.”

  Jorge grinned like a clean picked skull. “You think I’m looking for something, huh? You’re so smart, you think you know everything.”

  He squeezed her arm until she wanted to scream but she bit back the scream and stared him down. This man must not know how frightened she was.

  “Let Miguel go back to the clinic, and I’ll take you to the place.”

  “Where is it?”

  She hesitated because she wasn’t sure how much he knew and she wanted to give as few clues as possible. So she said, “In the Archaeological Park.”

  “In the Park, is it? There’s just the small matter of a hurricane, but I think it’s over.”

  Elena didn’t bother to tell him this was only the eye of the storm, the quiet that would lead to more destruction. She wanted Miguel out of danger.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. He seemed to be considering her offer. Elena didn’t allow her gaze to waver. She wanted to scream but that wouldn’t help. No one was around. He had b
rought them to a deserted warehouse on the edge of town. On the way, they had narrowly escaped injury from falling limbs and electric lines. The gun in her back had propelled them down the street.

  “What am I looking for?” he asked, shoving his face so close to hers she drew back.

  She shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. “I don’t know. But I do know where the hiding place is. I know it made you kill one man and a child and drive another to suicide.”

  “Hah. What if I did? So you think you know where this hiding place is.”

  “Yes, I do.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice.

  He grinned. “Well, we’ll see. Get out of that box, both of you.” He waved the hand that held the gun.

  Elena lifted Miguel out and then struggled to climb out herself. The metal box had sharp edges. She sliced open her knee climbing over its high side.

  “Come on, stop stalling, or I take care of the kid now.”

  “Wait,” she said. “There’s no deal if Miguel gets hurt. He goes back to the clinic. No harm comes to him, or there’s no deal. I don’t take you to the site.”

  Jorge shoved Miguel so hard the child fell to the floor. “Stupid kid. Should have killed all of them.”

  Elena’s rage almost propelled her into the ugly bastard’s face. She wanted to claw his eyes out for being a callous and coldhearted freak who would so casually take the life of a hapless child. But she had to focus on the here and now, or Miguel would not be safe. She helped him up, asking if he was hurt. Miguel shook his head.

  “Get moving,” Jorge said.

  She forgot the gash on her knee was dripping blood and turned to face Jorge.

  “I want your word Miguel is not harmed. He’s not going with us.”

  Jorge laughed. “You want my word? You can have it. Now get moving.” He shoved her shoulder.

  Elena held onto Miguel’s hand as she led him through beat up wood crates stacked in the warehouse. She had seen the fear in the child’s eyes when she had helped him up. Jorge would pay for this. He would pay.

  The building creaked and shuddered. Water dripped everywhere, and they were soaked to the skin. Elena’s one thought was to get Miguel to the safety of the clinic. After that, she didn’t know. She’d try to get away or overpower this maniac somehow. The hurricane was the least of her worries.