“Here,” she said, and made a hand motion and uttered some words.
“What?” I felt gray suddenly, gray and thin.
“No one can . . . ,” and she died.
Well. All right. I stood—it seemed to take a terrible amount of effort—and looked around me. There were other bodies strewn around, including a civilian or two. At least three of the bodies had died in ways I could never explain. Klementina had been creative.
Shit, shit, shit. I hadn’t planned on living through this, and now I had to try to get out of it, when all I wanted was to sit down in the middle of the plaza and just . . . rest. In the sun. With no shadows on me. Yet here I was, a shadow myself.
Standing around being shadowy wasn’t doing me a damn bit of good. I gathered all my arms and my bags and I went west.
For maybe twenty minutes I struggled to get away from the area. The gunfire and the screaming had motivated a number of Juárez citizens to seek the possible safety of their homes, but others were beginning to come out of them, creeping in the direction of the plaza to see what had happened.
Though I could barely drag one foot from behind and place it in front of the other, I kept moving, trying to walk steadily, to look like I was simply making my slow way home, or to work, or someplace else equally boring. I’d been hurt, not too bad. I could feel the place on my middle that seemed to be burned. Burns are lots more unpleasant when they get hot and sweated on.
I leaned against a wall for a minute, outside a cantina. The proprietor was standing against the wall, looking toward the plaza. His hands were folded. He looked right through me.
I expected him to gasp at the sight of me, or yell at me to step away from his wall, but he did nothing. And finally I realized that he actually could not see me. Klementina had given me one last present. I had felt invisible because she had made me invisible, so I could escape.
The front of my skirt had a scorch mark on it. Well, best solution for that was to take off the damn skirt. I would find out for sure whether or not anyone could see me, right here, right now. With no ceremony, I stripped it off and pulled on my jeans, changed the blouse for one of my shirts, folded the shawl and put on the hat, all in the space of seconds.
The man didn’t so much as blink. I watched a bead of sweat creep down his forehead, wondered what he’d do if I blotted it with my discarded blouse. I didn’t do that. I figured he’d been messed with enough for today, even if he didn’t know it.
I felt somehow lighter in my real clothes. I was able to move more quietly, even with the bag of guns, which occasionally clicked against one another despite the skirt and blouse wadded in there.
When I came to a public pump, I was still invisible, and I filled my canteen after the child custodian looked away. No point in screwing him over, too. I took a long swallow before I resumed walking.
People would look around in confusion as I passed them, thinking they heard something but unable to detect what it was.
While I walked, just to keep myself alert, I wondered what would happen if the spell never wore off. After all, my mother wouldn’t like it if I were invisible forever. When I thought that, I began laughing, and it wasn’t the kind of laugh I liked to hear coming from my own throat. It sounded kind of crazy. I was really tired.
I kept on walking. No one called the police. No one pointed and screamed “She’s the one!” or “Look at that blood!” And I began to realize I really wasn’t going to get caught, thanks to Klementina’s gift.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I was going to have to work out a way to get home. I could not return to the train station to board a train. I would be recognized and arrested. I didn’t know when the spell would wear off. I didn’t see how I could board a train while I was invisible. I took up space, and the trains were crowded, I’d heard.
And I had almost no money, due to my foresight and planning in buying tickets for all my good buddies, who were on their way to safety now. Or dead. While I . . . And then I realized I was saying Klementina was better off than me, so I shut myself up. Although it was true that Felicia was probably on her way to a life of ease, if she could get used to being bled occasionally, she was also heading off to a life among grigoris, and that would be an almost intolerable condition, as far as I was concerned. I’d never used that word in my head before, because people in Texoma have a lot to endure, and they do it. Calling something intolerable is drastic.
I had to make some kind of plan. What did I need right now?
I needed ointment for the burn over my ribs. I needed to wash. I needed clean clothes. I needed to dump the damn skirt. I’d lost track of how many I had in the bag. I needed to eat and drink and sleep.
Even if I could have afforded a hotel room, I was too bloody to rent one, assuming I could be seen. Now that I was calmer, I could see my skin was spattered. I like guns because they ensure your enemies die far from you, but the enemies had gotten really close today, and Klementina had killed some in messy ways.
Okay, that was the first thing to do. Find water and bathe. If possible, wash my bloody clothes.
I found a horse trough. It was in a stable in a suburb, and there were actual horses, who thought my behavior really odd. Maybe they didn’t care for the smell of blood, or maybe they couldn’t see me. How would I know, with horses? They backed off from the trough, and though a man walked by, I was able to see him in time to hold absolutely still while he was within sight. It would have been very uncomfortable if he’d noticed the water in the trough moving and investigated how that could be.
I wasn’t sure how well I was doing with the tiny sliver of soap I was carrying in my bag, but I got myself as clean as I could. I cleaned the burn very carefully, trying to keep my fingers light over the painful surface. I washed the blood out of the skirts and the blouses I’d accumulated. I wanted to throw them away, but I might need to sell or trade them. I air-dried in three minutes, and then I resumed my jeans. Luckily, the burn was above the waistline. I felt much more like myself after that, and I collected all my things and found a spot in the corner of the barn. I would wait until my things were all dry, repack, and start out again.
I fell asleep.
When I woke, there was a short, dark man fiddling with a bridle under a lantern. I didn’t move, hardly breathed. I had no idea what my state of visibility might be, a really strange state of being.
After a while he said, “Señorita, I have left some food for you. Please be gone in the morning.” And he walked out of the stable with the lantern.
That was my stroke of luck. Now I knew two things: I was visible again (and that was a huge good thing; I hadn’t realized how odd it made me feel, not knowing if I could be seen or not). And even better, he’d left me food. For nothing.
Somehow, as I groped my way to where he’d been working and found a plate with beans and rice and tortillas on it, I thought I might live to see home again.
I ate and was full. I slept for another while, maybe a couple of hours, and then I started out. I was afraid of oversleeping, and I wanted to be sure I did what he’d asked. Walking in the dark was not easy or pleasant, but when is anything?
I managed to get at least a couple of miles away before I gave up. I sat down to wait out the night. When dawn broke, I could see I was in the nothing that lay all around Juárez, and I began walking, facing the rising sun.
I had to think about something.
First I thought about Eli.
Once I got over him being the son of a prince, I couldn’t figure out why I’d been so angry or why that had made any difference. After all, we’d lied to each other equally. And he hadn’t acted like the son of a prince, though I wasn’t sure what that behavior would look like. At least, he hadn’t been all lordly or snooty. And he hadn’t looked down on me any more than Paulina had, and she’d definitely not been a princess.
No wonder Paulina had had such an attitude
about Eli. She’d made an effort to defer to or at least confer with him, when her natural inclination was to dominate. Respectful, when she would have enjoyed scorning him.
Eli had always treated Paulina with respect, too. I figured he had admired her skill, if not her winning personality.
So I didn’t hate Eli quite as much after a day or two. Because we’d had some hours together when I had seen the real Eli, and he’d been a lot of fun.
It’s no news that most men who want you will act completely different once they’ve had you. This is a true thing. But Eli hadn’t. He’d been the same person.
These thoughts didn’t get me any food or water. But I felt like a more reasonable person, more grown-up.
I would have given a lot to have a map. I was out in what I thought of as a semidesert. By the third day my situation was pretty desperate. If I was near a town, I could live. If I wasn’t, the prospect was iffy at best.
There wasn’t a town, but there was a little settlement, huddling around a well. Not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but just off-center. My arrival was the biggest thing that had happened to these families in weeks. A stranger! And a lone woman! Both things they didn’t often see. They gathered around that evening and asked me a million questions. It wasn’t hard to make up a bad-luck story, because I had one. I just didn’t tell them the true one.
I had a mother in Texoma. I’d come south to meet my father for the first time. (They gasped at that. An unknown father! They’d never heard of such a terrible thing.) By the time I’d arrived, my father had died, and I’d had to stay with my uncle. He’d beaten me, burned my skin with a match, and told me I had to marry a man who was many times my age, with grown sons and daughters, a man to whom my uncle owed money.
So I’d decided to return to my mother, carrying the guns my father had left me, his only legacy. My mother was sending her brother to meet me halfway. I expected to encounter him any day. (That seemed like a good safety measure.)
In the meantime, I would like to sell a gun. Could I have food and water and a place to sleep while I rested up a bit, and then be on my way? And was there any ointment for a burn?
After a lot of consultation, that was fine with them. They didn’t want trouble, and a woman with a lot of guns might be trouble. On the other hand, the town bachelor proposed within two hours. With great regret I turned him down, because I hadn’t had a chance to consult with my mother and uncle.
“Yes,” said his aunt with approval and some relief. “Every traditional girl should consult with her family before she enters into a marriage.”
At the end of two days of sleeping and eating, I bid them good-bye. We were best friends by then, just about, and I left them a pistol and ammunition. They were delighted. They would rather have had one of the rifles, but I pointed out that the rifles were my dowry. A very old woman helped me clean the burn, hissing in sympathy when she saw it, and she gave me some kind of liquid from a proper bottle, which might have come from a real pharmacy. It hurt enough to work well, I figured.
I set off very early the third morning, hoping to get a good distance before the sun killed me. I had water and food, and they’d told me that in two days I would come to the village of Hortensio . . . of course, unless I missed it entirely.
If it hadn’t been for the dog, I would have. I saw a dog trotting all by itself, and it had a purpose. A lone dog was not with a pack, of course, and that meant it was going somewhere where there was food and water. It was heading northeast, so I followed it. I had to pick up my pace to keep it in sight. This dog was really covering ground. I was sweating, and I had to fight the urge to sit down, just for a minute. I knew I would not catch up if I did that.
Hortensio was mean.
I was on guard from the moment I saw a man kick the dog. That dog had gotten me to a place where I could find water and food, and I didn’t take kindly to it being kicked. Neither did the dog, which growled at the kicker. Who then shot the dog dead.
So I had both Colts out when two men decided to rape me right in the middle of the village, despite the protests of several women. I didn’t know if the women were upset because they didn’t think I should be raped, or because they didn’t think their very own men should have sex with someone else. After all, I might be diseased. Or a demon. A lot of the yelling was beyond my Spanish, and I was ready to kill them all by the time a woman with a withered arm told them I had the mark of a sorceress upon me, and anyone who harmed me would regret it a whole lot. Forever.
I didn’t know if it was true that Klementina had put some kind of mark on me that only people with magic could see, and at the moment I didn’t care. For all I knew, the withered-arm woman didn’t want me to shoot the men or didn’t want the men to harm me for her very own reasons. She was clearly the village wisewoman.
After some tense moments a little boy was delegated to approach me and take my canteens and refill them. I was terrified he would not come back with them, that they’d drive me off into the wasteland with no water or food, but he returned and laid the canteens, full, at my feet. And one of the women contributed some kind of meat jerky and a couple of tamales. I literally backed out of Hortensio while the village people were having another huge argument, deliberately started by the withered-arm woman. She jerked her head at the path I should take after she’d yelled for a minute at one of the men. Whatever she’d said, she’d hit a nerve.
She was very clever, and I found myself wishing I’d learned her name.
That day I shot and killed a rabbit, and I ate it and the tamale. I saved the dried meat for the next day.
Two awful days later I knew where I was. I saw Ciudad Azul atop its hill. I got only close enough to find a stream, where I finally got to wash myself and my clothes. When I didn’t look too much like a scarecrow—as far as I could tell—I used some of my precious money to buy some food from a vendor, and I sat down to eat it on a bench in the plaza. I was comfortable in the mild air because my burn was finally getting better. I ate every tiny crumb of food. As soon as I was through, I shook the dust of the town off my feet and got out of there.
After I left the outskirts of Ciudad Azul, hoping I never went back, I got a ride from a family crammed into an ancient vehicle, which was the most wonderful luck I’d ever had. They were on their way north to visit relatives, and they worked me into the car somehow. I was glad I’d taken the time to clean up in Ciudad Azul, because otherwise they would have been stunk out of the car. There were three adults and three children in this ancient Ford, and they asked me about a million questions because they didn’t have anything else to do.
I stuck to the story I’d created in the nameless settlement, and they oohed and aahed like they were watching a film or a play. By the time they let me out, we were all good friends, and they wished me well and wanted me to write them to tell them what happened after.
By this time my Spanish was better, and I was so exhausted I could hardly imagine another day on the road.
But I had to. I had to imagine several days.
When I walked into Segundo Mexia from the south, I weighed so little my jeans would hardly stay up. I was as tan as I would ever get. I had blessed the stupid hat I’d gotten in Juárez over and over. I’d traded both the skirts for bits of food. I still had my guns, having carried them the whole damn way.
My mother cried. The only other time I’d seen her cry was when one of her students died of a spider bite. Even Jackson looked somewhat relieved. I could tell my mom wanted to keep me near her, but I wasn’t putting any strain on her and Jackson, and after so long by myself, I liked that state even better. So after a big meal and a lot of catching up on the Segundo Mexia news, I set off to my own place.
Chrissie let out a yell when I passed her cabin. “You’re alive, you’re back! Hey, I let them in because they said you’d want it!”
I could only stand and stare at her. “What?” I was in no
mood to be delayed.
“You’ll see,” she said, grinning. That is my least favorite thing, not being told something I want to know, because surprises are not something I’m fond of.
But I was so anxious I strode up the remaining bit of hill, unlocked my cabin, and opened the door.
I had a refrigerator. I stepped back outside, to see the electric wires running to my roof. I went back in. The refrigerator was small and white and perfect, and it hummed. The refrigerator. And my bed was new and bigger. And I had an easy chair.
I decided to get pissed off. “He better pay me anyway,” I said out loud. “This is not what I would have done with my pay.” Because I couldn’t have. I could not have paid for the electricity to the hill to be beefed up so much. I could not have imagined buying a refrigerator, of all things, though I’d wanted one very much. I could not have imagined having anything besides the bench and stool on either side of my table. And I could never have chosen the beautiful new gun belt lying across the table. The pay I was owed was in an envelope beside it.
And there was a note. I had a little trouble reading the spiky handwriting, but I worked on it for a few minutes. Eli had written: I saw how you looked at the refrigerator in the bar in Cactus Flats, on our first trip together. I hope you enjoy it. I would not have lived through our adventure without you. I don’t know if I will see you again, but I hope I do.
I didn’t know how to act. I pulled the door shut behind me and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared at everything. I’d come home, but it didn’t look like home. I tried to get angry about it, but the truth was that my home looked a lot better. And this wasn’t payoff for the sex. This was gratitude that he was still alive, and that his mission was done.
I had a lot of feelings, and I wasn’t used to that.
Finally I put the gun bag down on the floor, and realizing I didn’t have to carry it anymore made me cry. I pulled off my boots, my socks, my everything, and I got in the shower, which was also working. This was everything I’d longed for all those hot, dusty miles, when I’d suffered and sweated and thought about home. The kindness and meanness, the blood and hate and friendliness, the dying and the dead.
An Easy Death (Gunnie Rose #1) Page 26