by Dale Mayer
“He won’t get you at all,” Ryker said. “I’ll make sure of that.”
She wanted to say something mean about how she’d been with him when she got shot, but she didn’t want to upset him. What was wrong with her? She was both cranky and miserable at the same time. She shuffled restlessly in the bed. “The pain is really ugly,” she whispered, trying to hold back the tears.
“You could use another shot of painkiller,” he said. “Let me find somebody.”
And he barely stepped out, and she found herself lying here in the small room and wondering at the ugly turn of events in her life. Who would ever want to shoot her? But then, who’d want to kidnap her either? It didn’t make any sense. As she laid here, she heard voices and looked up to see the doctor coming toward her.
He had a smile on his face. “How do you feel?”
She raised an eyebrow at his excellent English. “Like I’ve been shot.”
“Good,” he said. “So, right on target then.”
She groaned. “If that’s a joke, it’s a bad one.”
“Not a joke,” he said. He pulled back the bandage ever-so-slightly to check the wound and smiled. “It’s looking pretty decent. I’ll give you another shot but not quite as strong.”
“Why not?” she asked, hating the petulant tone in her voice. But the last thing she wanted was to be in so much pain.
“So you’re not unconscious,” he said.
She accepted that without explanation, yet she wondered why she wasn’t allowed to sleep. Sleep sounded damn-near perfect right now. As soon as he was done and had disappeared, she looked at Ryker. “Why can’t I sleep?”
“Because we’re leaving soon,” he said.
She frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.” And then she thought about it and realized just how much pain would be involved in order to move at all. “You know how much it’ll hurt, don’t you?”
He nodded slowly. “Do you want to go home or not?”
She winced. “Is that my only choice? Stay here and sleep happily, or go home and feel all kinds of pain?”
“For the moment, it is. Yes.”
She groaned and said, “Well, it’s not much of a contest, is it? What about the others? Have you found them?”
“I talked to Miles, and he’s rounding them up.”
“I wonder where they were,” she said. “I just wanted to go for a walk in the village.”
“Well, you got a bit of a walk,” he said quietly. “But no more. We can’t take any more chances.”
“But what about whoever shot me?” she asked. “It makes no sense.”
“I know,” he said. “I’d like to figure out exactly what’s going on. Only we’re running out of time.”
“Well, I’ll stay here and nap, so why don’t you go off and figure it out,” she murmured as the painkillers kicked in. “The doctor may not have expected me to sleep,” she said, “but I think I’ll nap anyway.”
And she drifted off once again.
Ryker stood there, his fists clamped on his hips as he stared at her. She wasn’t supposed to go off to sleep again, but he wasn’t surprised that she had. The shock was as traumatic as the wound itself. Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out and answered Miles. “She’s okay,” he said. “She’s dropped off to sleep again.”
“Any idea who was up there?”
“Not really. But unfortunately, I have an ugly suspicion,” he said.
“Care to share?”
He hesitated. “I hate to do so in case I’m wrong,” he said. “Have you got the other two?”
“Yeah, bags are packed. We’re all in one room right now,” Miles whispered.
“Anybody see a sign of Pablo?” he asked Miles. “Apparently, he checked himself out.”
“I’m not surprised he did,” Miles said. “When you think about it, he’s been the one to get into trouble over any of this, and, if the guerrillas realize he survived, he’ll be in deeper trouble. Not to mention, he skipped out on his medical bill.”
“I covered some of the doc’s expenses. But what the guerrillas did to Pablo at the creek almost seemed like it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.” He paused. “I can’t make heads or tails of it. Maybe we’ll know more before we leave.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But the bottom line is, we need to make sure we catch that ship out of here tonight.”
“I’m with you there. I also don’t want anything else to happen to her.”
“I got it. So, do you want me to come down and stand watch?”
“Well, we still have a couple hours,” he said, “so it’s still a bit early. Did the guys eat?”
“No, they haven’t. I need to grab something for everybody and make sure we have supplies on the boat. It’ll be a long, cold night tonight.”
“Make sure you get something warm for her, a blanket or a jacket or something so she’s not chilled on the water. And I’ll ask the doctor for extra pain meds too.”
“Okay, will do,” Miles said. He hung up, and Ryker pocketed the phone, then turned to head to see if he could catch the doctor. He stayed in the hallway until the doctor went by and then asked for some medication for Manila overnight. Afterward, Ryker headed to the front desk and paid for a half-dozen pain pills. He figured, after six pain pills, maybe they would already be on the ship, and he could get her into the medical center there.
He also paid cash for her care. The hospital appeared to be more than grateful that he had enough money to cover her medical treatment. And he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for the doctors to treat anybody and get reimbursed for their expenses, let alone their wages. Local remedies, in most cases, would be enough. Only if they ran into difficulties, like right now, which would make it harder to do without traditional medicine.
Ryker stared out at the evening sky that came down gently, wondering if they would have any more issues between now and nightfall. What he really didn’t want to do was leave this shooting hanging. He was afraid that a whole lot more was going on here than expected, so what he had to do was track down an answer. And quickly.
He pulled his phone out and sent Miles a text. Can you guard her?
On my way, Miles responded.
Ryker stepped outside to wait at the hospital door, where he could still see her room. Fifteen minutes later, Miles showed up. “The guys promised they’d stay inside the room,” he said. “I warned them that it was either that or they would miss their ride out of here. They both appeared to be quite eager to go home, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
Ryker nodded. He took Miles to Manila’s hospital bed and said, “Chances are she’ll be asleep for the next hour anyway. And honestly, that’s the best thing for her right now.”
Miles looked at him and nodded. “Are you expecting her to get attacked here?”
Ryker frowned. “It’s possible, but I hope not. I want to figure out what the bottom line is here.”
“Good luck with that,” Miles said.
“I want to check out where the shooter was,” he said. “See what I can come up with.”
“Go then.”
With that, Ryker headed out to the front of the hospital, then picked up the pace and ran to the spot where she had been shot. As soon as he reached it, he realigned to account for where the angle of the shot had come from and for the flash he’d seen. Then he scrambled up to the higher part of the cliff edge, looking for where the shooter had potentially been. A few minutes later, he found the crushed grass where the shooter had stood. It had been a rifle shot, and, of course, it was possible that the guerrillas tried to take her out. But they had to have had a reason. It wasn’t just a random shooting.
As he sat here, looking around and trying to figure it out, he heard a voice.
“It wasn’t us, you know.”
He froze.
“Don’t turn around,” the voice continued.
“Wasn’t you what?”
“We didn’t shoot her,” the voice continued.
“We did,” the voice said.
“Are you part of the guerrillas?”
“Yes, but we didn’t shoot her. We came in to talk to some friends and family, and we were already heading back to our camps.”
“Is that common for you?”
“No, not necessarily. Most of us in the camps are family. But some of us have people in other places.”
“And you didn’t shoot her, and you’re telling me this why?”
“Because usually, when anything bad happens, we’re blamed,” the voice said. “Just so you know, it wasn’t us.”
“But you know who it was though, correct?”
Silence.
He repeated, “Correct?”
When there was no answer, he turned to look, and the person had disappeared. Ryker thought about going after them because he certainly could. But, if they hadn’t volunteered that information already, what were the chances that they would volunteer it now? But they brought up a good point. The fact of the matter was, whenever there was bad news around here, it would go to them. Everyone would blame the guerrillas.
Ryker called out, “I really could use the help.” A weird stillness surrounded him. Still, he tried one last time. “At least a hint.”
“Someone you didn’t expect.”
And that was it. The voice drifted from a long way away.
And Ryker knew that, even if he tried to catch up with him, there would be no catching up. Someone he didn’t expect? That would be pretty damn open to interpretation. He hadn’t expected anybody to shoot her. Not really. But the fact of the matter was, somebody had tried to take her out.
Whether they weren’t a good shot and had messed up or whether they only intended to wound, he was not sure. And he couldn’t imagine anybody else taking a chance like that without hoping for the best result. And so then, why not keep firing? Why not keep trying to kill them? Maybe the shooter had been disturbed or had seen someone approaching from his vantage point that they couldn’t see? Or were they afraid that Ryker would come after them? Because that’s why he was here now.
Nothing else could be gained from where he sat up on the top of the edge though, so he carefully made his way back to where they had left all their bags and then farther down the cliff. He removed the rope at the same time too, not wanting to leave anything here. And then realized that they should have taken the rope in the first place. It was also possible that one of the weapons had been taken from their bags while they had slept too. They had left everything up on the top of the cliff here, and, although they’d come back within a few hours to collect their things, it may not have been fast enough. And then again, in a place like this, it might not have been difficult to get a weapon like that.
Slowly he made his way back down to the town, and, when he stopped in at the hotel, he asked if the manager was available. But he wasn’t around either. When he asked how to speak with him, he was pointed to his house, which was back along the cliff edge and farther back in the village. Ryker made his way up to the house, where he rapped on the door. The manager opened the door with a loaded rifle in his hand and frowned at him. “What?”
He looked at him in surprise. “Wow. Expecting trouble?”
“Already had some,” he growled. “What do you want?”
Ryker considered the possibilities, then said, “I wondered if you happened to see anything.”
“I don’t know anything,” he said. “You already turned those two men in. You’re not turning me in too.”
“I wasn’t planning on turning you in,” Ryker said mildly. “I was asking if you knew about the man who had been at the hospital.”
“No, I don’t know anything,” he said, and he slammed the door in Ryker’s face.
Wondering what was going on, Ryker slowly walked back toward the hospital. How was it that they didn’t know anything? And, of course, he realized that they did know something. It’s just that nobody was willing to talk.
He had two working theories. The manager with his loaded rifle seems to imply that maybe he had guerrilla problems of his own. So, he wasn’t a guerrilla sympathizer? Or, hell, he could have been but now found himself on the receiving end of their coaxing? Granted, Ryker’s best theory, in his opinion, was that Pablo had some sort of a way to make the manager and the hospital staff stay quiet or he’d paid them. Considering how poor people here were, Ryker suspected payment was part of it.
He slipped into the hospital and walked up to the receptionist. In a low voice, he asked her again if she had seen Pablo when he left.
She immediately shook her head.
“I know you did,” he said. “And I know he paid you to stay quiet, and I don’t know how he did that because he said he had no money.”
She stared at him. Her eyes were wide but darting to the side. He looked around, and another woman came toward him with a big a frown on her face. He leaned back and said, “I was looking for information on Pablo.”
“We told you that he left this morning,” she said briskly. “He checked himself out.”
“And I left money to cover his treatment,” Ryker said in a mild tone. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t know where he went.”
“I don’t know where he went,” she snapped.
“Except,” Ryker said, “that he felt he needed a safer place to go. So I’m sure somebody here may have offered him some shelter. Particularly for money.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it.”
He wondered at that, but the woman turned and stalked away. He glanced at the receptionist and said, “Do you want to add to that?”
She bit her lip. He opened his wallet and brought out a one-hundred-dollar bill and dropped it in front of her. Her gaze widened, and she looked around, then quickly snatched up the money. “Two guerrillas came here, looking for Pablo. He got scared and paid her for a place to stay.”
“And where did she let him stay?”
“Her husband’s the manager at the hotel,” she said. “She told him that he could stay there.”
He thought about that and realized the man’s attitude was more likely because he probably had Pablo sitting in the back of his house at the time of Ryker’s visit—but the loaded rifle probably meant the two guerrillas had already been to his house earlier. He nodded and said, “Thank you.” And he quickly disappeared out the front door of the hospital.
While he walked back up to the same house, he texted Miles.
Miles contacted Ryker by phone and asked, “Any reason for checking up on Pablo?”
“It’s a confirmation on my nagging suspicion that he’s not as safe as he thinks he is,” Ryker said, back at the manager’s house almost immediately, and, this time, when the man opened the door, the manager’s face turned uglier and the rifle was still pointed at Ryker’s face. “I understand that Pablo’s here,” Ryker said quietly.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” the manager said.
“Well, I don’t believe you,” he said. “I would like to speak to Pablo.”
“No,” he said.
“And why is that?” Ryker studied the man’s florid face. “Are you the one who’s hurting him, or are you the one who’s protecting him? Have the guerrillas already paid you a visit today?”
“I don’t need to protect him,” he said. “He was just looking for a place to sleep.”
At that slip, Ryker nodded and said, “And why is that?”
“I don’t know. Why do I care?”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Ryker said. “So then why are you so upset that you offered a stranger a room for the night?”
The man’s shoulders relented, and he nodded. “My boss doesn’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“It takes money from him,” he said. “None of us are allowed to house anybody overnight. Otherwise, he gets really angry.”
“And, of course, it’s a small village, and everybody knows.” Well, Ry
ker thought, that was partially true. He figured the manager was too scared to mention the guerrillas were here.
The manager nodded. “We all need money,” he said.
“But Pablo has no money,” Ryker said.
The man shrugged and said, “He can get some.”
“How?”
“I don’t know how, but he said he has money, and he’ll bring it and pay us. Later today.”
Personally, Ryker thought that was a load of shit. But, if these people were willing to do that on trust, then great. “What else does he want?”
“He’s trying to get home,” the man said.
“That makes sense, sort of,” he said, especially with two guerrillas on his tail. “And is that something that can be done?”
“Eventually, yes. There are people traveling from village to village. He can get there, but it will take a couple weeks, and he needs money for that too.”
“So he has lots of money then?”
He shrugged. “I think so.”
“Good,” he said, “but I still need to talk to him.”
At that, the manager seemed much less hesitant. He stepped back a little bit and looked around, then said, “Pablo, Ryker wants to speak with you.”
Instead, a scuffle was heard in the back of the house. The man frowned. “Pablo?”
Ryker bolted to the left and raced on to the back of the house in time to see Pablo moving quickly toward the woods. Ryker caught Pablo halfway and spun him around, only to have Pablo pull out a handgun.
Now, where had he gotten that? Then Ryker knew. Their own duffel bags most likely. He looked at it and, holding up his hands, asked, “Whoa. What’s going on here?”
Pablo shook his head. “I want to go home.”
“I get that,” Ryker said. “I was looking for a way to get you home, but I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“You don’t have to understand,” he said. “I need to go home.”
“Why?”
He took a deep breath. “I have to.”
“Why?” he insisted.
Pablo shrugged and said, “You won’t understand.”
“I do understand. The guerrillas are still after you.” But then, as he studied Pablo, something else clicked in his brain. “Some people will do anything to move ahead in life. The other guide. Are you trying to get home before he does?”