Flight to the Lonesome Place

by Alexander Key

  Ronnie swung his light in the man’s face, hoping to blind him momentarily so they could slip past, but a hand far stronger than his own knocked it from his grasp and seized him firmly. The flashlight smashed against a wall and went out. But Ronnie was still carrying his stick under one arm, and now he managed to get a grip on it with his left hand. He began swinging it in a fury.

  That it was Bernardo he was attacking he had known from the instant he glimpsed the man’s face. There was no mistaking the resemblance to the Señora. It added strength to his fury, and he must have knocked Bernardo down and broken his flashlight, for the way to the front entrance was suddenly clear. He managed to find Ana María Rosalita’s hand again, and they ran outside together.

  Black Luis was close behind, but Ronnie did not know this until they had dodged around a row of cars in the courtyard and were near the gate. The rushing blackness overhead had already swallowed the moon, and the stars were rapidly vanishing. He could barely make out the gate opening.

  Then he heard Black Luis say, “What are we going to do? We’ll never find our way down the mountain unless we follow the road. And in two minutes the sky will break open and we’ll be wishing we had fins.”

  “Can you drive a car?”

  “No.”

  Ronnie swallowed. He had handled a car only once in his life, and that was a little Italian sportster he had been allowed to use on an Argentine estate. There were cars here he could have stolen, for he doubted if many of the owners would have bothered to remove the keys in a place like this. But most of them seemed to be large machines with which he was unfamiliar. Dare he risk driving one on a narrow mountain road, on an inky night in a rainstorm?

  Already scattered drops were beginning to fall. He looked wildly around, hoping to see a small sports model, but a sudden warning from Black Luis sent them scurrying to the side of the courtyard. They crouched behind a large sedan as racing headlights swept around the mountain. A car whined upward at high speed, and whirled recklessly through the gate. It came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the driveway, effectively blocking the only exit.

  A man got out and stood swaying drunkenly while he bellowed for a servant to come and carry his packages. When no servant appeared, he lurched toward the villa, leaving the motor running and the headlights on to show him the way.

  “We’ve got to take it,” Ronnie whispered. “Let’s go!”

  He caught Ana María Rosalita’s hand, and they raced to the car and piled in. Black Luis followed with the bags and tumbled into the back seat amid a collection of bottles and boxes.

  It was a sports car, and it had a set of floor shifts enough like those he had once used to give him a grain of confidence. But his legs were not long enough to reach the brake pedal, and he was forced to slide the seat forward before he could put the thing in reverse and attempt to turn around.

  Somehow, perhaps with the aid of Ana María Rosalita’s whispered prayers, he got the car turned and headed through the gate.

  As they started down the mountain, thunder clanged and roared around them, and the tropic rain began to fall in blinding sheets.

  10

  SPELL

  RONNIE HAD THE PRESENCE OF MIND to shift to low gear, or they might have gone over the edge of the mountain on the first hairpin turn. The car, though a sportster, was much larger and heavier than the one he had been allowed to use so briefly, and he sat so low in the bucket seat that he was unable to make out the side of the road. The only thing to do, he realized, was to hug the mountainside on his left, and pray.

  The rain increased. With every passing second it became more difficult to see the way. Several times he braked to a full stop, waited until he could glimpse a few more yards ahead, then cautiously inched onward.

  They may have been halfway down to the main road when some instinct warned him it was time to stop. As he braked again his straining eyes were able to distinguish what seemed to be two ancient gateposts on the left.

  “Do you know if it’s safe to drive in there?” he asked Black Luis.

  “It’s a good road for a short distance. It goes down to a pineapple field in the other valley.”

  Ronnie tugged the wheel over. Carefully, slowly, he sent the car between the posts and on into the blackness on the other side. When he finally stopped, it was only because it had become impossible to see anything ahead.

  He turned off the switches and closed his eyes, suddenly limp. Behind him Black Luis whispered fervently, “¡Madre de Dios! We made it!”

  “Yes,” he managed to say. “We’ll be safe here for a while. But as soon as we can see, we’d better start walking.”

  Beside him Ana María Rosalita gave a tremulous, “Oh!” Then, “Oh! It’s so wonderful!”

  “It sure is,” said Black Luis. “It’s wonderful.”

  “What’s so wonderful?” said Ronnie.

  “Being with people who care about you,” she said. “I mean people who really care. It’s so awful to be alone and not have anybody.”

  “I know what you mean,” Ronnie admitted. “I’ve been all through that.”

  “Then why don’t you be my brother?” she said. “Black Luis is. I made him my brother after Bernardo turned out to be such a monster. Anyway, I think it would be nice to have two brothers. Then we’d be a sort of family.”

  Ronnie swallowed. “Why,” he began, “that—that’s a great idea. We’re all in the same boat. I mean, we don’t have relatives or anybody else that gives a hoot. We have only each other.”

  They were silent a moment, and the only sound was the thundering rain. Then in a tiny voice Ana María Rosalita said, “I—I’m so happy I could cry.”

  “Then why don’t you?” Ronnie said. “From what I’ve read, it’s the best thing in the world for people at times.”

  “But hechiceras don’t cry. Only I—I’m so weak.” She tried to suppress a sniffle and added, “And when I’m weak I’m like a run-down battery, and I just can’t help myself.”

  “Oh, golly,” Ronnie burst out, “you must be starved! Marlowe said those devils didn’t give you a bite to eat! What made them treat you that way? Are they just plain mean?”

  “Money-loving mean,” Black Luis muttered. “Can’t you see? They’ve got to get rid of her. If they don’t, that bribón of a Bernardo won’t inherit what her papa left her. But they’re afraid of her. Especially the Señora. So they starve her.”

  “You mean—”

  “It’s just like our little sister says. Starve an hechicera, and she gets so weak her battery runs down. She can’t protect herself.”

  “I—I see.”

  “And she can’t protect herself when she’s trying to help somebody else, either. That’s why the Señora was able to wallop her on the dock, like you told me about. But she kept that man from shooting you.”

  “Yes,” Ronnie admitted. He was careful to keep doubt from his voice, even though he wondered. “She sure did.”

  Ana María Rosalita giggled suddenly. “It’s not really funny; it just seems that way when I look back on it. Maybe it’s because I’m so hungry I’m silly. But you should have seen that weaselly creature’s face when I cried to him, ‘You can’t shoot!’—and of course he couldn’t, because I’d turned on all I had. And then the Señora gave me the wallop. O-o-oh! I’ve never been hit so hard. Bernardo’s chauffeur had to carry me to the car, and I was still dizzy when they locked me in that room.”

  Ronnie found himself clenching his fists in renewed fury. “Anyway,” he said, “Marlowe partially paid her back for hitting you. He bit her. But good. I hope her foot rots off.”

  “Marlowe bit her? I thought I heard a scream, but—”

  “That was Marlowe sinking his teeth in. When he let her have it, she dropped the bag that had the key to your room in it. So you can thank him—” He stopped suddenly, then exclaimed, “Hey! Where is Marlowe, anyway?”

  Black Luis said,” He doesn’t like to ride in cars. But don’t worry about him. He’ll be curl
ed up somewhere waiting for the rain to stop.”

  “I keep wondering what he is,” Ronnie said curiously. “I’m pretty sure I know, because only a—”

  “Don’t say it!” Black Luis interrupted quickly. “Remember what he told you.”

  “And we’re not allowed to tell you,” Ana María Rosalita added. “Because we promised we’d never, never give his secret away, and if we didn’t keep our promise to him he’d know it, and it would spoil everything. But he’ll tell you himself later, specially when he learns you’ve become our brother. Anyway, what difference does it make what he is? He’s a personality, and practically a brother, and that’s all that matters.”

  She paused, sniffed, and said abruptly, “I smell shrimp!”

  “Maybe they’re falling in the rain,” Ronnie offered.

  “Oh, Madre mía, I mean cooked shrimp. I wish I didn’t love them so. I’ve been dreaming of them for hours and hours. I could eat tons of them. I tell you I smell them.”

  “You’re so hungry it’s making your nose play tricks.”

  “But I do smell shrimp!”

  “I smell them too!” Black Luis burst out. “They must be back here. Under all these bags and bottles. If we had a light …”

  Ronnie fumbled hastily over the instrument panel. Suddenly the light above his head came on. Ana María Rosalita, seeing his dyed skin for the first time, squealed and cried, “¡Cáspita! You’ve turned into an Indian!” At the same moment he saw the left side of her face, which had been hidden from him when her door was opened. It was swollen and discolored, and her eye was nearly closed.

  Black Luis saw it and gasped, and muttered an angry exclamation. Ronnie growled, “For what she did to you, I hope both that devil’s feet rot off!”

  “No,” said the tiny girl. “Don’t say that. I think she is loca and cannot help what she does. Where is that shrimp? Oh, find it, Black Luis, before I perish utterly!”

  Behind them bottles clinked and clattered and there was a great upheaval of things. All at once Black Luis cried, “¡Mira!” He emerged holding up a large container made for carrying hot and cold foods. Inside was a heavy plastic bag filled with freshly boiled shrimp, all peeled and buttered. There were enough in the bag to feed thirty people. “And there are ten big boxes of potato chips to go with it,” Black Luis said happily. “Gracios a Dios. Let us eat.”

  “And go easy, camarada,” Ronnie cautioned. “I went hungry for a couple days once, then stuffed myself. Was I ever sorry!”

  Ana María Rosalita made only gurgling noises of pure happiness. But after ten minutes she was able to say, “I’ve never, never tasted anything so good, and I just couldn’t stop till I’d built up my willpower. It took fifty-two shrimp to do it. But now I have the will to resist further food until we get to the cave.”

  At the thought of the cave, Ronnie scowled at his watch, suddenly troubled. Finally he began searching the car for a flashlight. There was no flashlight in the car, though he located some paper cups, which they held out in the rain to fill with drinking water.

  At last he said to Black Luis, “Is there a path along here somewhere that will take us down to the highway?”

  “There’s a path, but it’s a bad one. Even if we had a light, I wouldn’t want to try it in the dark. We’d be better off on the Las Alturas road.”

  “That’s too dangerous. It’s not raining as hard as it was. I’ll bet Bernardo’s got cars out looking for us already. The path’s the only way.”

  “Well, we sure can’t take it till there’s enough light to see by.”

  Ronnie shook his head. “I’m afraid that’ll be too late … unless we want to hide somewhere in the woods all day. But I don’t like that. Golly, there are too many people on the watch for us already. There are four that I know of trying to find me—and there must be at least four more searching for you. And in a few hours, when Bernardo gets things organized, oh, brother!”

  “But—but I don’t understand,” Ana María Rosalita interrupted. “Why are they after you, Black Luis? I know you’ve had to hide so Bernardo wouldn’t make trouble. But has it got any worse since your last letter?”

  Ronnie exclaimed, “You bet it’s got worse! The police and the immigration people are after him. Bernardo wants him caught and deported, and I mean fast. Bernardo’s pulling every trick in the book to get that land, so a factory can be built on it. I think a big company wants it. Anyway, the surveyors were out there this morning—I mean yesterday morning—”

  “Not a factory!” the tiny girl cried.

  “I think so, and it’ll probably be a whale of a big one. The place is on deep water, and that makes it really special. Why, if Bernardo handles things right, that land would earn a thousand times what the government would ever pay for it in land reform. I’ll bet—”

  “Wait!” she said. “I—I’ve just remembered something. When the Señora brought me to Las Alturas, Bernardo followed us upstairs and they talked about a factory. A big, big, big factory where they would make chemicals and plastics, and all kinds of stinky things. It would be next to a little mountain that they would grind up for the lime or something in it. And all the land around was to be flattened, and they would build hundreds and hundreds of little boxy houses that they’d rent or sell to the workers for a profit. He could talk of nothing but profit. Profit, profit, profit!”

  She caught her breath and added in a whisper, “I—I didn’t even dream he was talking about your place, Black Luis.”

  They were silent a moment. At last Black Luis repeated sadly, “Profit, profit, profit! My papa said that a man who lives for profit would cut down every tree in the Garden of Eden to make a dollar.”

  “Sure,” Ronnie muttered. “Where d’you think all the Edens have gone? Into somebody’s pocket. In this world the dollar comes first.”

  There was another silence. Beside him Ronnie saw that Ana María Rosalita was clenching her hands, and that a terrible anger had risen in her. Suddenly she began beating her tiny fists upon the seat. “Black Luis is my brother,” she whispered. “I’ll not allow my brother to be treated so horribly. No! I’ll not have it!” She was trembling now, and her voice was rising. “Oh!” she cried. “Oh! That dog! That wretch! That unspeakable thief! I’ll make him wish he’d never been born!”

  She stopped, and an icy calm came over her. “I must find a telephone,” she announced quietly.

  “A—a telephone?” Ronnie gasped. “What in the world for?”

  “To make a call, of course.”

  “But—”

  “Do not ask me about it. No one must even speak of it until I have made my call and done what I am going to do. It must be done. And as soon as possible. But first I must find a telephone.”

  Ronnie said, “I know where to find the key to Captain Anders’ cottage. Would he have a phone?”

  “Not unless he had one put in after Papa sold him the place.”

  Black Luis said, “We’d better try it anyway. He just might have had one put in. If not, the nearest telephone is at the Beach of the Three Brothers. ¡Madrel I would hate to go there today with all the world looking for us.”

  Ronnie frowned at his watch, then peered out at the dripping blackness. The rain seemed to have stopped. For the first time since the storm he could hear the coquis. They were shrieking happily.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to travel in the dark,” he said. “But if we don’t want to get caught, we’d sure better get started.”

  Black Luis led the way, carrying Ana María Rosalita’s bags. Ronnie followed, clinging to her with one hand; the other held fast to the plastic bag in which the shrimp had been packed. He had left most of the shrimp behind and kept only a small amount, which he thought they might be in need of later.

  The moment they left the car he had a vivid recollection of his last dream, and he was shaken by doubt. It seemed impossible that all three of them could ever grope their way safely to the highway.

  By some miracle Black Luis found t
he path, but now their downward progress became ten times as uncertain and difficult. The next half hour was a nightmare. They tripped over rocks and roots, and slid and fell endlessly. A slow fright grew in Ronnie. There came a terrible moment when he lost contact with Ana María Rosalita, and stepped forward into nothingness. Now the dream became reality as he plunged downward.

  He thought he had fallen into a cavern when another miracle occurred. Spongy growth cushioned his fall, and he landed in what seemed to be a thicket of young tree ferns. He called out to the others, and presently Ana María Rosalita came sliding down beside him. When they followed Black Luis again, the night was graying. Soon they could hear traffic on the highway, though it was bright daylight before they reached it.

  They crouched for long minutes in the shrubbery, waiting for a break in the traffic, then they dashed madly for the safety of more shrubbery on the other side. They had come out far below the captain’s place. Now, aware that many eyes could be on the watch for them here, they began creeping toward the breadfruit grove with all the caution they possessed.

  At the very edge of the grove Ronnie was startled by a small, sharp voice coming from a guava thicket near him. Then he realized the speaker was Marlowe.

  “Hold it, compañeros! Praise be that you got here safely! But go no farther. There are men everywhere looking for you. Even the police were here a few minutes ago, checking on the house.”

  “The police!” Ronnie whistled softly. “Marlowe, do you know if the captain has a phone?”

  “Of course he has a phone! How else could he order a taxi when he needs one? He doesn’t keep a car here.”

  “Well, we’ve got to get in and call some people. Do you think we can make it through the door without being seen?”

  “Sit tight a minute and I’ll take a look around. If the coast is clear, as they say, I’ll bring you the key.”

  “It’s in a coconut shell in the corner of—”

  “I know where the key is hidden, brother Blue. Nothing around here escapes a smart little fellow like me.” There was a quick, sniffing sound, and abruptly Marlowe exclaimed, “¡Madre! I smell shrimp! I’m expiring for a shrimp!”