by Dan Glover
"Don't move, por favor... we will not harm you, senorita... someone merely wishes to talk with you."
Talk my ass... why the hell am I tied up if you just want to talk? But she said nothing... even when they looped the bandana around her head blindfolding her. What good would it do? Oh... by the way, could one of you fine compañeros please bring along my bundle? It's right there in the bureau beside the bed. I'd sure appreciate it.
At least they hadn’t started ripping away her clothes. That was her first thought... that they were here to rape her. Just leave your money on the table when you're finished, boys, and have a nice night. Only she wasn’t so lucky.
How long had she been locked up in this place? She had no watch, no way to tell if it was day or night. Long enough that the shakes had begun in earnest. Goddamn the something man... he knew she had that little problem. Yet he left her here empty handed. She'd remember that when she got out of here... if she got out of here.
Danners was probably halfway back to Los Angeles by now. Hell, she couldn’t blame the man. She treated him like shit. Why'd she start the fight in the first place? No idea. One word led inexorably to another and before she realized what she was saying, there was no taking it back. Even when she tried, Danners had walked out on her.
Maybe they planned on simply leaving her here. Dan the Man... what a way to die. Not only had the something man denied her just one little packet they'd left nothing for her to eat or drink... not even a fucking bucket to crap in. She'd assumed they were returning soon but now? Now she wondered...
She damned sure wasn’t going to die of thirst. If it came down to that, she'd strangle herself first. Rip a strip of cloth from her shirt, tie one end around her neck and the other to the doorknob, and lean forward. Presto chango... ready or not, here I come, Jesus... or Chuy, as they say here. When in Rome and all that shit, don’t you know.
Goddamn but it was dark. And stinky too... it'd take her a month to air out the clothes she had on once she got out of here... if she got out. Was the tomb sealed? If so, how much breathable air was left? Pacing from one wall to the other and counting her steps she figured the crypt was at least ten feet square. So how long before the carbon dioxide she was exhaling with every breath built up to the point that she'd pass out? No fucking idea. Dammit. Should've paid more attention in science class, Liza.
Working her way around the walls she tested every inch for a weakness... some way to break through the concrete. They'd chosen this place with care. It was constructed like a fortress, a brick shitter no less... no escape, not unless she could attract someone's attention.
In the center sat what was obviously a coffin. Bricks were piled at its base. What... to keep it from sitting upon the floor? Hell, who knew. She'd already screamed until her throat was raw and her voice shattered. But maybe if she used a brick to tap out an SOS someone might hear from the outside.
2
No one would come for her. Why should they? All she'd ever done was push people away. Ever since Lissi died in that fire she'd been alone in the world even when surrounded by others... especially when she was with the crowd.
"The mom reminds me of you."
"Oh, please, DanDan... I'm nowhere near as pretty."
"You're even prettier. I don’t understand why a gorgeous girl like you isn’t married, Liza. You must've been asked a dozen times or more."
Back in Los Angeles they liked to order pizza, pull up something on Netflix, and spend the evening watching old cheesy movies from the 50s and 60s. Tonight they were in the middle of Cheaper by the Dozen... about a family with a dozen kids and a crazy father. Myrna Loy played the wife. Liza thought the woman was way too beautiful to have had a dozen children but she supposed that was all part of the suspension of disbelief.
"Honestly... I've never been asked even once, DanMan. Oh, I've been propositioned for sex a million times, but marriage? Nope. Never came up. I guess I'm not the type of girl you'd bring home to mother."
"Well, see? I don't have a mother. So no worries in that department."
What had he meant by that? All the dancing around they did... the insinuations they hurled back and forth, always hinting at something more than either of them were willing to risk.
Face it, Lizzi. The man is gay. Women disgust him... you included. He only hangs around because he has nothing else in his life... no friends, no family... nothing at all to keep him from simply ending things and quickly.
"No... you're wrong, Lissi. Danners loves me. I feel it. He's been hurt so much. First his mother abandoned him, and then the State failed to protect him. He just needs time... he has to realize that he's been mistaken... that there really is one woman who will treasure him and love him."
Oh, Lizzi... when will you grow up? Here you are thirty three years old and still playing the child, still believing in dreams that'll never come true. Wise up, sissy. Leave Danners... find a real man... someone who'll make mad passionate love to you and give you a dozen children and then maybe you'll stop torturing yourself.
Why was Lissi being so cruel? It was this horrid place... this crypt... the place where she'd come to die. The entire village reeked of foul doings from the priest all the way down to the dogcatcher. The American tourists crowding the beaches and the resorts didn’t see it. They were too busy lathering on the sunscreen and copulating in the turquoise waters that lapped the sandy shoreline.
Come on, Liza... you know you're making that shit up in your own head. Lissi's been dead for close on twenty years. And if you understand anything at all of this world, the dead don’t speak. Listen. Do you hear anything? Anything at all?
"Someone is out there."
No, Lizzi sissy. No one is coming for you. But don't worry. You have me. I'll protect you forever and ever. Lay down with me... go to sleep. You're eyelids are so heavy I can feel them all the way over here. We'll be together again, just like it was when we were children... remember?
3
"Shhh... shut up. Someone is out there."
The muscles in her arm felt sprained and her fingers were blistered from beating the brick against the wall. None of that mattered though. Either she picked it up and started banging away again, or she'd die in here. But what if it was her kidnappers? Maybe they'd come back. Perhaps their plans weren’t yet complete and they were only keeping her on ice.
There is a time and a place for everything, Liza. When oh when will you realize that? I must of told you a million times but do you ever listen? No. My Lissi would never get herself into the type of trouble that you seem to keep finding. Your sister had a head on her shoulders and she used it for more than looking pretty too.
"Shut up, mother. Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?"
That's all she needed. Christ, Liza... get a hold of yourself. Your mother isn’t here and neither is your sister. Whatever is pumping through your veins isn’t blood. It felt dry and coarse like pumice. Every time her heart beat it hurt a little more. And that ache blossoming right below her ribcage halfway around toward her back on the right side... maybe if she shifted her body into just the right position she could at least lessen the pain.
And what the fuck was that smell? Sure, she realized she was sharing a space with a decomposing body but the acrid odor that seemed to be seeping up from the floor was both potent and deadly. She could feel it in her bones... the lethargy had been building ever since she ended up here.
What had she eaten earlier? Nothing out of the ordinary. And besides, wouldn’t food poisoning affect her stomach? This feeling had more to do with the air she was breathing, at least that was her suspicions. Were they pumping poison gas into the crypt from outside? And if so, why didn’t they simply kill her outright. Why force her to endure a slow and a painful death?
While searching for a way to escape through the ceiling she noticed the breathing was easier if she stood on top of the casket that was placed in the center of the crypt. So she was right. The air was bad. Maybe she'd used up her allotted oxygen... but
a room this size... well, it ought to hold more air that that. How long had she been here? Maybe an hour? Two? Hell... she had no idea. A lot fucking longer than she wanted to be... that much was sure.
"Oh Danners... please don’t let me die all alone. I'm sorry I acted like a bitch. Leave it to Liza and her big fucking mouth... hell, I should've run after you when you left the cabin... I know that now. And you... don't you feel me? Can't you tell that I'm in distress here?"
Why don’t you try praying to God, Liza? Maybe he'll hear your prayers. Remember how I used to take you girls to church every Sunday even though that father of yours refused to attend? That's where you get it from... I know it. Your disbelief. Give yourself over to Him now, Liza... if you have to die, at least go to Him instead of to hell.
"Shut up, mother. I know you're not really here. Lissi... please... I need you, sissy."
Climb down off your perch, Lizzi... stretch out on the floor... take a deep breath. All your troubles will fade away. I'm waiting for you, sissy. I've always been waiting for you. Remember how I woke you up that night and told you to run?
"Oh Lissi... why didn’t you follow me out of that blaze? I waited for you too... forever and ever. But you never came. My feet were burning and my lungs were on fire but none of that mattered. When I tried to go back in to get you, they stopped me, though. They were stronger than me. I couldn’t break loose."
Jesus... what was she doing? Lissi'd been dead nearly twenty years now. Yet her twin sister's voice seemed completely real, as if she was inside this tomb right along side of her. Was that who was interred within the coffin on which she was standing? No... Lissi was buried back home... back in Seattle. She'd watched as they lowered her into the ground all the while wishing it was her instead.
Lissi was the good girl... the smart one... the pretty one. Everyone said so. Even mother and father... especially father. Can you keep a secret, Lizzi? It'll be between you and me... okay? Something sweet and delicious...
Stop it, Liza... don't do this, not now. Not ever. He's dead. Father's been dead for years. You know he never meant anything by it... right? It was his was of showing how much he loved you, that's all. Such a little thing... and of course you kept the secret all these years... haven’t you? No sense spilling it now, is there?
"You're right, Lissi... you were always right. Why didn’t you tell me?"
She was losing it. Unless someone found her, and soon, she'd die in this horrid place. It was the darkness, maybe, or the air... something was making her head spin round and round and if she fell, that'd be the end. Maybe it'd be better that way.
Just let go, Lizzi. I'm here to catch you.
Chapter 52—Heaven
(Denied)
"You've done well, my son. Let us now kneel and pray."
The bait was in place and the trap was set. All he had to do was wait and his patience would be rewarded. God was good.
"I left her there all alone, Padre... what if..."
"Hush... her fate was sealed when she stepped foot into our fair country. Once we have the others, our night will be complete."
"I don't understand the need of all this, Padre... so much pain, so much hurt..."
"We cannot pretend to know the ways of the Lord, Arturo. His mysteries are not ours to see."
"I feel I have perpetrated a great wrong. Will heaven be denied me now, Padre?"
"No, my son... the gates are open to all who believe. Do you believe?"
"I do... with all my heart."
"Then the kingdom of heaven will be yours, my son."
The peasants of Santo Tomas were easily placated with a few well-spoken bible verses and for all his worldliness Arturo was no different. Oh... so you tell me you've killed someone, my son? Say three Hail Marys and all is forgiven. Always remember... Jesus the Christ died for your sins and for mine.
"But Padre... I have doubts..."
"That is the devil you hear talking, Arturo. Put him behind you."
Maybe it was time to lead Arturo to his final resting place. The man would go willingly, just like all the others. Doubts had a way of multiplying, of becoming more than the sum of their total. But then again even Jesus had his doubts. Perhaps to believe and yet doubt was the essence of divinity.
Should he search his soul—truly and gravely—he too had his doubts, misconceptions—not only on the nature of things and the role of the Church in the lives of these people—on the errant beliefs foisted upon the unsuspecting, all of it leading to a sort of quaver in the shield of the religion that he wore like armor to guard him against the temptations of the world.
And here he was succumbing once more... giving in when instead his resolve should be of steel. Perhaps age was catching up to him. Or maybe these demons restless as they were had finally achieved a sort of demented victory.
He'd seen beautiful women in his life but none like Liza McNairy. Was it some sort of test that the Lord was sending his way? Even Jesus was tempted to stray from the path by the glory of a woman... a whore at that. He found himself yearning to take McNairy's confession before she died... perhaps the girl might succumb to the lure of religion when she knew her time in the world was coming to an end.
"Put him behind you."
"Lo siento, Padre?"
"Oh, nothing, Arturo... estoy hablando conmigo mismo, mi hijo. I'm but talking to myself, my son. Think nothing of it."
He had to put such thoughts out of his mind. Danger loomed in that direction. Better to instruct the bearers to bring McNairy to him bound and blindfolded and with a gag in her mouth that she might not speak, her head covered that he might not glimpse her visage. If he did, he was afraid he'd fail in his mission and Santo Tomas would continue to suffer under the scourge. But what if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t the one he'd waited decades for?
She was. She had to be. All the signs pointed to it. It was normal to doubt. But he had to stay firm in his resolve... to see past the what ifs and the maybes that flowered around him like so many weeds sprouting up out of the fallow earth that he took such care in tending. McNairy'd been to the graveyard. She knew about the bodies buried, as did her partner.
Why hadn’t they contacted the proper authorities? They had an agenda of their own... they were being paid to locate the children who'd vanished over the years, or rather one of them... Eduardo Ramirez. The boy'd been a mistake from the beginning. He saw it the day he baptized the lad. But his mother loved him as did the sister and now the past was coming around once more as was its wont to do to old men and stray animals and women who loved too hard.
He'd rather they just stop. Go back to America where they belonged and leave the people of Santo Tomas to his loving care. They were here for what... a week? Maybe two? And then they'd be off on another chase, solving another crime better left alone, all for what? The almighty dollar.
So it came to this... a shame, really. Why hadn’t McNairy and Forthright paid heed to the warnings he'd sent their way? They knew too much already. Once they'd gotten the dust of those graves under their fingernails there'd be no way they could put this case down... not without solving it first, or dying in the trying. So be it.
If he was right, Forthright would attempt a rescue. The man would be waiting outside the church knowing that whoever had taken his partner would bring her here. Del Encuentro would be ready. And what if the man came armed? No matter. His flock would gladly give their lives to spare their children the onerous demons that threatened them all. His gun could only hold so many bullets. Once they were spent, Forthright would take his place alongside McNairy and all the others.
"Lord, make it so, por favor."
"Amen, Padre."
Chapter 53—Afraid
(Of Falling in Love)
She'd made love with a thousand men. No... she'd slept with twice that many, but love? That feeling was as foreign to her as the opposite side of the sea. Until now...
These feelings erupting in her heart—volcanoes of emotion pushing through the surface driven
by forces deep beneath the crust—what did they mean? During her life she'd married a man... promising to forsake all others... yet that went by the wayside like the myriad summer days she'd spent languishing here in Mexico. Yet now that she felt Reilly's arms wrapped around her she was once again ready to make that commitment and this time mean it.
"I'm afraid, Reilly."
"Afraid of what, Elena?"
"I'm afraid I'm falling in love with you."
There. She voiced it. Softly... as if only to herself, half hoping he'd not hear the words she spoke yet at the same time yearning for the same platitudes from him, for wasn’t that what they were? He lay as if in slumber—eyes closed—but by the patterns of his breathing she knew he was awake.
What kind of puta are you, Elena? This man doesn’t care for you. He's just like all the others. When he is satiated with all you have to give, when his many manly needs are fulfilled—quenched like a campfire no longer being used—he will leave you behind. To him, you are but a shadow crossing his path for but a moment.
"I think I love you too, Elena."
He seemed to say the words as an afterthought, like an appeasement offered to an enemy one knows cannot be defeated by strength, only guile... a treaty struck in order to not to altogether shatter these illusions she carried. Did he care for her? Of course... especially now, with flesh pressed to flesh. But tomorrow? And the day after?
All of a sudden she resented him. Reilly was a thorn stuck in her shoe and no matter how she plucked at it she could never completely remove it. And so after a time she simply learned to live with the pain.
Had she always been like this? Alive to the sensations of the world and yet dead to the feelings of the heart? Perhaps there was a time... those days when she was young and fresh and unsullied by the trials that life foisted upon her... before Eduardo had vanished into the nothingness of tomorrow.