by Mark Gimenez
" Senora Bonner, move away. I do not want you hurt. But the governor, he must die. Now."
El Diablo reached down and took her shoulder to pull her away from Bode, and when he did his face came within reach of Bode's long left arm-which Bode swung up and across El Diablo's face. He stumbled backwards and grabbed his face. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
" What… what is that?"
Bode pushed himself up off the floor and held out the scalpel he had found in Jesse's coat. El Diablo seemed stunned.
"A scalpel? You brought a scalpel?"
"Doc did."
El Diablo's face now showed his renewed determination to kill the governor of Texas. Bode searched for weapons. On a shelf were signed baseballs on small stands. He grabbed one.
"Do not touch my beisbols! "
Bode threw the ball at El Diablo. He ducked. Bode threw another. He ducked again. Bode threw baseballs until he ran out. Of baseballs, not balls. Because his only goal in life-his last goal in life-was to get his wife and the doctor back across the border. So he now fought with an energy that came from fear of failure, not of death. El Diablo stepped forward and swung the machete with both hands, again and again, blood dripping from the cut on his face. Bode jumped and ducked, but he felt the sharp blade slice through the skin on his left arm and bring blood. He knew the odds were against him, so on the next swing, Bode rushed El Diablo and tackled him with a ferocity he hadn't felt in twenty-five years. He wanted to drive this son of a bitch into the tile floor more than he had ever wanted to drive an opponent into the turf of a football field. They went down to the floor hard, and he felt the air come out of El Diablo as Bode's full weight landed on top of him, and he heard the machete's metal blade slide across the floor. Bode's right arm hung limp, but he punched El Diablo with his left fist as they rolled across the hard tile. He was determined to beat El Diablo to death, and might have, but a sudden sharp pain consumed his body. El Diablo kneed him in his balls. He released his grip, and when he looked up, El Diablo stood over him with the machete raised.
"I now avenge my son's murder. I now have justice."
"Stop!"
El Diablo froze. Lindsay pointed Eddie's silenced Glock at him.
"Shoot him!" Bode said.
Enrique de la Garza smiled down at the governor of Texas.
"Oh, Governor, your wife and I have plans. She will not shoot me."
She shot him. Twice.
Enrique fell backwards against the desk, the pain in his chest fierce and hot. He had been shot three times before, but he knew instantly that this would be the final time. His eyes turned down to the holes in his chest. He put his free hand over the wounds, and it was soon bloody. His breath came harder now, and he spit blood. Enrique de la Garza would die that night in Nuevo Laredo. He turned his bloody palm up, then he turned to the governor's wife.
"But we had plans."
"That was my plan," the governor's wife said.
Enrique de la Garza would never again read the ingles to Carmelita or listen to Julio's Bach. He would never again experience romance or feel the love of a woman. He would die alone. He would die now. He dropped the machete and stumbled outside onto the balcony. He leaned against the railing and gazed down at his beloved Rio Bravo.
Bode pushed himself up and wiped blood from his face, his blood or El Diablo's, he didn't know. He stepped out onto the balcony. El Diablo leaned against the railing, breathing hard and bleeding profusely.
"Please, Governor, do not let my children see me like this."
"What do you want?"
"Help me over, so that I may die in the Rio Bravo."
"Why should I?"
"Because we are not so different, you and I."
"How?"
"We both long for the love of a woman… the same woman. Yet neither of us shall have her love."
"You didn't kill me. I killed you."
"No. She killed me."
El Diablo turned and tried to hoist himself up and over the railing, but he was too weak. Bode shook his head then stepped closer and grabbed El Diablo to help him over the rail, but he suddenly felt a sharp pain. He groaned then backed away and looked down. El Diablo had stuck a switchblade deep in his gut.
"And now I have killed you, Governor. You will now die for murdering my son. That is justice. And I will now die with honor."
El Diablo threw himself over the railing. Bode heard a scream and turned to see Lindsay staring at the knife in his gut.
"Oh, God-Bode!"
He leaned over and looked down to the river. In the moonlight, he could see El Diablo's body sprawled on the riverbank a hundred feet below. Bode yanked the knife out and dropped it over the railing. Lindsay examined his wound.
"It's bad, Bode."
It was fatal. He knew it. He put his hand over the wound to stanch the bleeding. They went back inside and came face to face with a slender teenager with the face of an altar boy wearing black pants and a white shirt and pointing the AK-47 at Bode. The boy's hands trembled. Tears flowed down his face. He couldn't do it. He couldn't pull the trigger and kill a man. Bode walked to the boy and put his open palm on the boy's white shirt. He dragged his hand down and wiped his blood on the boy. He took the gun. Lindsay found a cloth and tried to stop the bleeding.
"Can you make it?"
"I'll get you both back across the river. If it's the last thing I do."
And he knew now it would be.
Jesse Rincon opened his eyes on a bloody scene. The governor's clothes were soaked with blood. Lindsay's hands were bloody. His own leg was bloody. And a boy stood there as if in shock, his shirt red with blood.
"Where is he?" Jesse said. "El Diablo?"
"Dead."
The boy walked out onto the balcony and peered over the rail. The governor leaned over Jesse.
"I can walk."
Jesse pushed himself up but fell into the governor's arms.
"The hell you can."
The governor dropped the AK-47 then hefted Jesse onto his shoulder.
Bode Bonner was the governor of Texas, and he sure as hell wasn't going to die in Mexico. He would die like a Texan. In Texas.
"Hand me my pistol."
His wife picked the gun up and held it out to him. He slid the Colt into his waistband. He then carried the doctor down three flights of stairs and to the front door. He stopped and drew the pistol.
"Open the door."
His wife pulled the door open on two armed guards. Bode shot them both with the Colt. 44. He saw no more guards so they hurried to the four black Mercedes-Benz sedans parked in the circle driveway. Lindsay ran ahead and stuck her head into the nearest car.
"Keys, " she said.
"Get in," Bode said. "I'll drive."
"I will navigate," the doctor said. "I know the way out."
Bode helped the doctor into the passenger's seat. Lindsay climbed into the back seat. Bode went around to the driver's side and saw two armed men running toward them. He put them both down with the Colt. He got in and started the engine.
"Go, go, go!" the doctor said.
Bode punched the accelerator, and the big Mercedes lurched forward and through the gates as shots rang out behind them.
"They're coming after us!" Lindsay said.
"We've got to get to the bridge!"
"No!" the doctor said. "The federales will soon know we have killed El Diablo. They will not allow us to cross the bridge. We must go west, to the river. To the colonia. Turn right here. Cesar de Lopez Lara."
Bode veered onto the road and drove past a string of cantinas and cheap motels.
"They're behind us," Lindsay said.
"Left-there. Avenida Alvaro Obregon."
Bode hit the brakes hard and made a fast turn, clipping a parked car. They were now driving down a dark road through what appeared to be a tenement of dilapidated houses and old cars parked right outside the doors. Groups of two and three men and women loitered on corners. Bode felt a fever washing over him.
"Did we lose them?"
"Yes," Lindsay said.
Bode slowed so as not to kill a pedestrian on the narrow street, until he heard his wife's voice.
"No."
He sped up-until he saw headlights coming directly at him.
"Shit-this is a one-way road, Doc! And we're going the wrong way!"
"Turn right- Calle Miguel Hidalgo. "
Bode swung the big sedan right onto another narrow street then sped up. His face felt hot and wet with sweat, and blood ran down his right arm and out of his gut.
"I grew up in this neighborhood," the doctor said. "A major road is just ahead. We can try to outrun them."
Bode came to an Alto sign but he didn't alto. He veered to avoid cars parked along both sides through a little business district for five blocks then the road dead-ended into a four-lane roadway. The light was red, but "They're still behind us," Lindsay said.
"Left!" the doctor said.
Bode gunned the sedan through the light and turned south. Now they heard sirens.
" Policia," Lindsay said.
They had joined the chase from a side road and were now on their side.
"They're shooting at us!" Lindsay screamed.
Bullets hit the driver's side window, but did not penetrate the glass.
"I'll be damned. An armored car."
He glanced at the policia. They too were stunned. Bode stuck his middle finger up at them. He floored the accelerator and soon had the sedan running eighty. Two lanes ran south, so Bode had room to maneuver. He swerved around slower moving traffic and put some distance between them and the policia and El Diablo's men. He blew through another red light.
"Aw, shit."
Traffic had stopped ahead. Cars were waiting to turn into a walled compound.
"Boys' Town," the doctor said.
"Great."
Bode blinked hard to maintain focus. He swerved around the line of cars. But just past Boys' Town the police had set up a roadblock.
"Hold on!"
Bode headed straight at the police cars then abruptly jumped the low median and drove around them in the northbound lanes then jumped the median back to the southbound lanes.
"They're coming after us."
The doctor grabbed the dashboard.
"Turn around!"
"Why?"
He pointed. "That is the Villareal, the motel where the federales stationed here reside."
But they weren't just residing there; they were waiting for them in military trucks parked across all four lanes. Bode slammed on the brakes and swung the Mercedes around into the northbound lane. He stomped on the accelerator and sped past the policia and soldados heading southbound.
"Go left on Abraham Lincoln," the doctor said.
Bode turned left and accelerated.
"Now right on Constitucion."
He swung right.
"Faster! No alto! "
"Don't worry, Doc. I ain't stopping."
They flew through the stop sign at Venezuela.
"Left on Peru."
Bode hit the brakes and turned the wheel hard. The sedan fishtailed and sideswiped a Tacos y Barbacoa vendor truck. He straightened out and headed west.
"Now go very fast," the doctor said.
Bode went very fast. The traffic was one-way, and they were going the right way for a change. They sped past cantinas with drunks loitering outside and small restaurants. In the rearview, Bode could see flashing lights. But they had a lead on them. His breathing came faster now.
"Bode, are you okay?" Lindsay asked.
"I'll get you home."
"There!" the doctor said. " Calzada De Los Heroes. The highway west."
Bode steered onto the highway. Four lanes headed west, so Bode pushed the sedan. They soon cleared the dense part of the city.
"We are outside the city now. Perhaps they will not follow."
"They're following," Lindsay said.
"Faster!"
Bode pushed the sedan to ninety. The pain in his gut had gotten worse. Much worse. He clenched back a groan.
"What's that?"
Up ahead, he saw red taillights, as if cars were being stopped.
" Bandidos. "
"You gotta fucking be kidding me."
"Do not stop, Governor."
He didn't. He swerved into the oncoming lanes and around an eighteen-wheeler then back into the westbound lanes.
"You drive fast very well, Governor."
"I been driving in Texas all my life."
"We will turn soon, toward the river."
"Bode," Lindsay said, "they're getting closer."
"There!" the doctor said. "The white cross… Turn!"
Bode slammed on the brakes and veered off the highway.
"There's no road."
"A dirt road leads to the river."
Bode steered down a path cut through the desert. The car bottomed out, so he couldn't go fast. His face felt hot; he fought not to pass out.
"They turned in behind us," Lindsay said.
"The river is just ahead," the doctor said.
"They're closer!"
"Just beyond that bluff is the river."
"How do we get down to it?"
"We drive over the bluff."
"Over the bluff?"
"It is a low bluff. We will drive right into the river. It is not deep, because of the drought. The colonia is just on the other side."
"Lower the windows."
"Punch it, Governor."
Bode punched it.
"Hang on!"
The big Mercedes-Benz sedan flew off the low bluff and belly-flopped into the Rio Grande. The air bags deployed and cushioned the blow. The car settled into the river. They climbed out the open windows and into the river. The water was only a few feet deep. Lindsay and Bode pulled the doctor out of the river and to dry ground against a ten-foot-high bank.
"We must get to the riverbank above," the doctor said. "We will be easy targets down here."
"I'll get you up, Doc."
Bode hefted the doctor onto his shoulder again, and the pain told him that this would be his last living act. Lindsay scrambled up the dirt side as if she were that tomboy back in ninth grade. Bode grabbed a cane shoot with his left hand and pushed with his legs, the doctor hanging on and Bode's body bleeding out, and his right knee with the four scars burned hot with pain and his mind pulled up memories of lying on a football field with ligaments torn apart, of taking the pain and fighting through the pain, and sucking in air as he was now, and just as then, Bode Bonner refused to give in to the pain. Lindsay reached down to him and he reached up to her but he saw his sister Emma now and he wanted to make the Bonner family proud, so he grunted out one last massive effort… and he stood in Texas again. He dropped to his knees, and the doctor tumbled off his shoulder.
"Thank you, mi amigo," the doctor said from the ground. "You have saved our lives."
Flashing lights appeared across the river.
"They're here!" Lindsay said. "We've got to get into the colonia."
She helped the doctor to his feet. He put an arm around the governor's wife. Bode pushed himself to his feet, but his time had come. He was born in Texas, and he would die in Texas. But he had gotten his wife home. He had come for her, as she knew he would. His last great adventure wasn't winning the White House-it was saving his wife. He now looked east and saw the sun rising over the Rio Grande. Over Texas. Perhaps it was the adrenaline or perhaps the delirium that now consumed his mind, but William Bode Bonner stood to his full six-foot-four-inch height and raised his good arm to God and shouted to Texas.
"That was a hell of an adventure!"
Just as he lost consciousness and his body collapsed to the ground, shots rang out from the other side of the river.
FORTY-FOUR
Dying is a way of life on the border.
Lindsay Bonner knew that now. She was a nurse, but she could not deny death. She was a married woman, but she loved two men. Four me
n had come for her, but only one man would go home. She reached across the hospital bed and touched his face.
Bode Bonner opened his eyes. He blinked hard to focus. He was lying in a bed. In a hospital room. His wife sat next to him. He remembered.
"Doc?"
His wife clenched her jaws and shook her head. He felt tears come into his eyes.
"How long?"
"Four days. Since surgery."
"Where am I?"
"Laredo hospital."
"How?"
"Border Patrol. They brought us all here. The federales shot at us, from across the river. They hit you and Jesse. He died in the colonia. We buried him next to his mother."
She cried now.
"I'm sorry, Lindsay. For Jesse… and for hurting you."
She stared off a moment then turned back to him.
"You need to know something, Bode. I loved Jesse, but I didn't have an affair with him. Not a physical one."
"Can you ever forgive me?"
"I already have."
"Why?"
"Because you came for me."
FORTY-FIVE
Cameras and reporters from the networks and cable crowded into the press room and staked out positions in the corridor outside. Across the foyer, on the other side of the white marble statues of Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin, the governor of Texas stood at the window of his Capitol office staring out at the satellite trucks that lined the driveway circling the building. Since they had returned from Laredo, he had thought a lot about what it meant to be a good man, and while he hadn't worked out all the details, he had figured out the important points.
Honor.
Love.
Family.
Bode Bonner would be a good man again. He would live a life with honor, with love, and with his family. Jim Bob Burnet slapped him on the shoulder and out of his thoughts.
"It's been a great ride, Bode. Thanks for taking me along."
"I know you wanted the White House as much as I did. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You got something better than the White House-a second chance with your family. Don't fuck it up."
They shook hands. Left hands. Bode's right arm was still in a sling.
"Besides, I just might get to the White House without you."
"How?"
"Palin called, wants me to come see her in Alaska."