Holiday (The Falau Files Book 5)

by Mike Gomes

  Lifting the container of Cleaning Chlorine, Carlos pinched the plastic and poured half the Chlorine into the first of the soda bottles and then did the same with the remaining chlorine into the second soda bottle. He reached and capped the two bottles and handed one to Candido.

  “You get José.”

  “He is just a little kid.”

  “A little kid that could send you away for the rest of your life.”

  “I know. José. Ok.”

  “When you get to his apartment open the tops of all the vodka bottles and have them ready. Poor them in one at a time and then put the cover back on. Shake the bottle for three or four seconds and then place it right where you want it. You will have about thirty seconds to get away. All you’re going to hear is a pop and that will be the fire starting. Good luck.”

  Carlos pushed the six bottles of vodka to his friend and disappeared into the shadows with his own supply.

  With fumbling hands Candido gathered the ingredients and pushed them into his pockets having the vodka bottles fall out at random only to be scooped up and placed back into the pockets.

  Moving quickly Candido tried to clear his mind from the face of José. The words of the big man saying that the first person you kill will haunt your dreams and stay with you forever. He had not killed José, but the boy stood in his mind with a half-smile and winking at him. He could see the boy running across the courtyard in his mind, happy to be bringing some booze that he had stolen from his parents. The look on the boy’s face as he got praised from the older boys.

  José’s apartment was dark. His family had no interest in staying up for the fireworks like most of the families in the complex. They had to work the next morning and the tourists getting ready to leave would be a great opportunity to earn extra money for helping them with their belongings.

  Dropping to one knee by the door he pulled the soda bottle from his pocket and opened the top of it getting a blast of it in his nose causing his head to pull back.

  Following the directions from Carlos he opened the bottles of vodka placing them in a row and then reached for the first one knocking the next two over with his shaking hand.

  “Shit!” he said in a hushed tone reaching for the fallen bottles and propping them back up. He poured the bottles in one by one and saw the mixture starting to bubble and foam coating the sides of the bottle and reaching up like fingers trying to pry their way out.

  Fumbling with the cap he spun it in his fingers that felt like they were separate from the rest of his body. They didn't respond to his thoughts and he forced the cap on using the blunt palm of his hand. Turning the cap, he tightened it to its extreme.

  Observing the bottle, the mixture had started to work on itself and was growing and the sides of the plastic bottle started to stretch. Candido crouched down by the side of the door and started to shake the bottle just as he was told to do by Carlos.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The boy jerked himself back and looked to the sky over his shoulder seeing the fireworks had started and the New Year had rung in. His heartbeat had started to jump in his chest as he turned his attention back to the bomb that laid in his hand.

  The boy pulled the outer door open and reached in with the bomb placing it gently to the ground.

  Pop!

  The bottle burst in a sloppy fiery explosion that coated everything in its area including the bare hand of Candido. The boy felt the chemical burn taking effect on his skin immediately. His jacket started to smolder and he ripped it from his body trying to use it to wipe the chlorine induced layer from his skin.

  “Ahhhhhh!” screamed Candido no longer focused on keeping quiet. From the corner of his eye he saw the door was now engulfed in flames and the bomb was doing its job. Next to the door Jose’s mother had a small planter box with flowers that she had grown from seedlings. In the box sat a water pitcher she used with her flowers each day. Candido raced to the pitcher lifting it and finding water still inside. He poured it over the chemical burn giving him some relief from the fire that now was burning inside his skin. As the water ran dry he pulled his wet sleeve over the wound trying to keep it moist.

  Shoving the pitcher back into its place he looked up to see José standing inside the doorway covering his mouth from the flames that now fully engulfed the door and had spread to the two walls on each side. The young boy made eye contact with Candido who froze in his place staring back at the boy who he was sure knew exactly what was happening.

  Shaking his head José looked out at his one-time friend with a stone cold face lacking any anger, forgiveness, or hatred. It was blank and unwilling to share his emotion.

  Candido looked in on the boy and longed to have him outside the house with him. An overwhelming self-hatred filled the boy knowing he was extinguishing such a young life. Moving closer to the door he reached out for the handle, but the flames had already engulfed the door and were wrapping around the apartment. After two additional attempts the boy pulled himself back from the door and surveyed the home seeing if there was any other way that he could get in but there wasn’t. José was trapped.

  “I am sorry.” said Candido hoping that José could see him. Hoping he could read his lips and know how bad he felt.

  The young boy stood motionless in the apartment as the flames grew greater. He kept his eye contact with the other boy but showed him no emotion not even in Candido’s gesture of saying sorry. Without warning the little boy turned away and walked back into the other room leaving Candido to carry the pain for the rest of his life.

  Chapter 25

  Laying back in the bed of the hotel room with a cool wet cloth laid over his eyes, the big man attempted to rest on the queen size bed. The mattress was comfortable and the pillow nestled his head but the thoughts that ran through his mind were rapping and unrelenting.

  The images of an old love in Jennifer were poking out from the surface of his mind. Her voice muffled but growing as the minutes went by.

  The big man tossed his body side to side in the bed pulling up the corners of the fitted sheet out from its holding. Perspiration started to build and soon his clothing started to make him feel like he was overheating.

  Sitting up in the bed he wiped his face of the sweat with the cool cloth feeling the water on his face evaporate almost immediately. Fumbling for the remote-control he pushed it from the night table onto the bed and then scooped it with his hand turning the television set on.

  The distraction of the television might help. It might be what he needed to push Jennifer back into the back of his mind. But she seemed to have no intent on going back to where she came from. She was on the hunt and he was the prey.

  Rubbing the cool cloth over the back of his neck the big man hunched his body forward then pulled his head back to look at the television. His eye caught the mini refrigerator and he thought of the consents inside.

  Candy bars

  Soda

  Peanuts

  Apple juice

  Vodka

  Whisky

  Rum

  Alcohol. Several small bottles of alcohol. The very thing that had at least a minimal ability to calm the voices and let the big man get some sleep. The one thing that could stop the horror even if it was for just a little while.

  “You killed me.” came a stronger and more solid voice from the back of his mind. Jennifer was starting to rear up. She was starting to let Falau know exactly how she felt and how she thought he was the one that was responsible for her death.

  “It was your fault. The light was red.” she said echoing off the walls of his mind digging in what felt like nails into his head. The big man knew what was coming and he knew that the chances to stop it were slim, but the alcohol would give him a chance.

  Flipping his feet to the side of the bed the big man attempted to shake his head hoping that the horror that was starting would simply fall out of his head somehow.

  A flash of light seeing the face of his departed fiancé Jennifer covered in blood and
collapsed in the front passenger side of the car crossed his vision causing him to grab onto the sheet pulling it tight in his fist. The sheet crushed into a thin roll and his fingers dug into the palm of his hand. A groan of pain dripped from his mouth originating from deep down in his chest.

  “No. Jennifer. No.” begged the big man looking again to the refrigerator knowing that some amount of relief lay within it.

  “It's all your fault.” she whispered sounding like her lips were just inches from his ear.

  “No, it wasn’t. It was a drunk driver not me. Knock it off, Jennifer!” the big man yelled to the empty room hoping his words would cause the voice to stop torturing him.

  Like a response to his words a flash of the woman’s face up close and as life like as the day he first met her he could see her dead eyes and the blood covering her face. The blood running down from her scalp and over her face painting stripes on her masking the once beautiful woman. Her eyes had turned gray and her soul had voided her body. The love of his life had left the earth in the blink of an eye. The pick-up truck ramming into them and causing her limp body to crash off the steering wheel and then through the passenger side window. She was gone and would only return to haunt the man she loved.

  The alcohol inside the refrigerator called to him with the promise of sweet relief from the pains that Jennifer was inflicting on him. The alcohol, predominantly whisky, has a soothing effect that if drunk to excess, would cause him to pass out and render the tortures of Jennifer ineffective or at least not able to be remembered by Falau in the morning.

  Pulling himself from the bed his hand reached out grasping the handle on the refrigerator pulling it open with one hard thrust. Bottles of soda, candy bars and booze fell to the floor and scattered like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be put together. Dropping to his knees the big man reached in desperation grabbing the first miniature bottle of alcohol he could find.

  “You killed me.” whispered Jennifer and his hands scooped up the bottle. Bringing his right hand to the cap of the tiny bottle of whisky he started to turn the cap hearing the familiar sound of the perforated aluminum cracking when the big man stopped the motion and looked down at the bottle.

  Jack Daniels Tennessee Whisky. Top shelf whisky by anyone’s standards. Smooth and gentle on the tongue. All the best of the numerous whiskeys he had sampled but he sat frozen with just one thought on his mind.

  The Chip.

  Letting go of the top of the bottle his right hand reached down and he straightened up his back. Sliding his hand into his front pocket of his jeans his fingertips gently brushed against the chip that had been given to him from Dave. The ridges that once wrapped themselves around the outside of the coin had been worn down with time and a smoothness had overtaken their place. Opening his index and middle finger he clasped the chip in between them and slid his hand out of his pocket and pulled it up in front of his face.

  The coin was as unremarkable as ever. The worn-out words on each side remained leaving a common person to wonder what once laid in its place.

  Rolling the chip down between his fingers he grabbed it flat between his thumb and the side of his index finger. His thumb ran the territory that Dave his sponsor had done so many times with the same exact coin. Closing his eyes, he searched for some advice in the chip and maybe some divine help from Dave sitting thousands of miles away with the offer to help him in any way he could.

  The miniature bottle of whisky fell from his hand and onto the carpet and he placed his faith in the chip clenching it tight and asking it to defend him from the attack of Jennifer and the memories as he stayed on his knees like a man in prayer.

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

  A hand smashed down on the outside of the hotel room door jolting the big man back into the present and causing him to wonder if Dave had answered his call for something to level him out.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  “Open the door!” called a voice from the outside of the room. The voice was familiar but not so much that the big man could recall who it was. Looking to the nightstand the clock read 2:37am. Whoever it could be was frantic and not able to contain themselves. Between the slamming on the door and the yelling it was a wonder that all the people in the bed and breakfast were not already wake.

  Falau pulled himself to his feet and got to the door placing the chip in his pocket. He lowered his hand and looked through the peephole seeing Joaquim staring back at him looking like he was about to burst with anxiety.

  Unlocking the door, the big man pulled it open only to have the boy push his way in and walk swiftly to the far side of the room with his hands up by his head. The boy’s clothing was stained with black that washed over onto his face and arms. The look in his eyes reeked of desperation and confusion. The boy could not keep calm and looked to the big man looking for some way to tell him, but the words struggled to form.

  “Calm down, Joaquim. What is going on? Why do you need me?”

  “My mom told me to come.”

  “Ok. What happened?”

  “She is in the hospital. She got burned. A fire at the apartment. She is bad. Really bad.”

  “A fire?” questioned the big man placing the black stains on the clothing and body of the boy with the idea of fire. “Is she alive?”

  “Yes. They took her to the hospital. The apartment caught on fire and we had to push through the wall. Some fell on her and she got burned really bad.” said the boy frantically. “It wasn’t an accident.”

  “Wait a minute. What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Same thing happened at José’s apartment. Candido had his arm covered when the ambulance came to pick up my mom. They tried to kill us.”

  “What happened with José? Is he with someone who can help him?”

  The boy’s face turned cold and stern. His jaw tightened, and his body stopped its quivering. “He and his family are with God now. They never got out. I saw them place his burned body in a bag and take them all away. It was murder.”

  “I am sorry, Joaquim. You’re welcome to stay with me until your mom is better.”

  “She wants to see you. She said she needs to talk with you. That you’re the only one who can help her.”

  “Me?” questioned the big man pointing to himself. “I am not sure how I can help, but I will do whatever I can.”

  “She loves you.” said the boy looking up to the large man.

  “What?”

  “She loves you. You’re one of the few men who ever showed her respect. I never did. So, she loves you for being so kind to her.”

  “Your mother is a wonderful woman. Strong and committed to you. Nothing in her holds anything other than respect. She is an amazing person.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  The boy dropped his head and started to move to the door only being stopped by the big man’s words.

  “It would not be fair to love her. Not with me leaving the island. I never led her on. Not even a kiss. I do love her as a friend and I am sure if I stayed here that I would fall in love with her, but not the way things are with me living in the United States and her here. Besides, she is too good for me.”

  Chapter 26

  Running through the streets of Funchal in the middle of the night didn’t come without its challenges. The streetlights were dimmed or turned off in all the pedestrian walking areas after midnight. The only lights that stayed active were the ones that were posted on roads that motor vehicles used overnight. The island with its hilly and mountainous terrain was not conducive to cars and the traffic that came with it. As soon as the mountains pulled their way up out of the ground and started their climb to the heavens the streets that let cars drive down them stop. Tourists found this charming and locals liked that the pollution of the cars was kept to a minimum letting the island remain as pure as it could be being a tourist destination for the European elite.

  The cobblestones in the more expensive shopping districts were slippery with the spilled
drinks of the night and the washing they had to do after the crowds subsided. The route to the hospital led the two straight through this area. Like most things on the island of importance, they were located near the tourist hotels and shopping areas.

  “How much further?” asked Falau puffing as he ran behind the boy who seemed to have almost infinite energy. Being fueled by a mother that lay in the hospital could do that to a teenage boy but for Falau crossing over into his thirties had given him a new perspective on life. He now understood why athletes would start to see their careers and productivity wain later after they hit the magic number. The prime time was limited, and injuries always seemed to hold on longer after the thirtieth birthday. As his chest heaved up and down he wondered if there was an expiration date on being employed by The System. Would there be the day that the mind was willing, but the body said no. Trailing Joaquim was putting things in perspective for the big man.

  “Not much further.” called back the boy sounding like he would normally just be standing around. The boy was slowing himself down so the older man could keep up with him. There was no doubt about that. He was used to the hills and steep slopes that turned Falau’s quadriceps into fire with the buildup of lactic acid. The boy looked back over his shoulder without a hint of sweat on his face and waved his arm at the big man for him to catch up.

  “Sorry, but I am not used to this. I haven’t run for distance in ten years.” said Falau pushing himself not wanting to stop when the boy’s mother lay in a hospital room.

  “What distance? It's not even two and a half kilometers.” called the boy slowing himself more letting the big man come up to parallel with him. “Let’s go.”

  The boy picked up the pace and with sheer will of mind and body Falau kept on his heels. He focused on the boy’s feet hitting the ground knowing that if he could just keep in rhythm with the boy he would be fine. Two and a half kilometers is nothing. I know I can do that. It's not that far. said the big man to himself trying to motivate himself for the final push.