Haunted

CHAPTER 29

I CRANK THE ENGINE OVER AND PULL THE TRUCK BACK onto the road.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” I say. “Are you up to it?”

“Yes.”

“Who were you with in the village?”

“I don’t know for sure. No one ever said his name. They called him El Jefe.”

“How did you and the others end up there?”

A catch in her breath. “Some men came to my school. They said they had work that would pay well. They said we would be gone only a week and would be brought back to our village after. They said we would be treated with respect.”

Her voice drops off. When I glance over, she’s pressed the palms of her hands against streaming eyes.

“I’m sorry to have to—”

“No.” She regains herself quickly, wipes away the tears with the back of her hand. “I want to help. What do you need to know?”

“How long have you been gone from your village?”

“Longer than a week. Three weeks, I think. I lost track of time.”

“The men who took you, do you know where they come from?”

“Near San Fernando. They spoke of it often during the drive. How they were anxious to return there when they finished delivering us. How they hated these trips because the ‘cargo’ was so much trouble. Running drugs was a lot easier.”

Adelita has been staring straight ahead as she speaks, her voice steady but without nuance. She could be reciting a school lesson or repeating a tedious anecdote told to her by a tiresome old relative.

I look around as we drive. There are few places to hide the truck and I begin to worry how long we have before someone comes looking for it.

Time for another plan.

Off to the left about one hundred yards there is an outcropping of rock. I leave the road and head toward it.

Adelita glances over. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t see any way to hide the truck. I don’t know how much time we have before it’s missed. If the driver’s friends come looking, I want them to find an accident that will convince them no one escaped. I may need to siphon gasoline from the truck to start a fire.”

She nods that she understands. “There is gasoline in a plastic jug in back. I don’t know how much is in it.”

“I’ll check.”

The truck bounces and rattles over the desert floor, making conversation impossible. It takes effort just to lock your jaw and grind your teeth together to prevent the jarring from shaking anything loose.

As we approach the rocks, I slow down and stop. “I want you to get out here. I’ll see what’s in the back that we can use.”

“I want to help,” she says.

“I know. And you will. But I can take care of this. You should sit here in the shade and rest.”

She draws in a breath as if to argue, but I reach across her and open the passenger door. “Please. Trust me. Do as I ask.”

And after a moment, she does. She climbs slowly out of the cab and finds a shady place under a scrub oak. I wait until she’s settled to put the truck in gear once more and head for the rocks.

When I’m ten yards out, I stop again. I don’t relish going into the back of the truck, but I know what I have to do. When I open the doors, the smell of blood hits me with the force of a blow. It’s hot inside and close and the harsh buzz of flies already drawn to the bodies makes the atmosphere even more unpleasant.

Even vampire is repelled. But it’s vampire strength I need so I call her forth. Reluctantly, I climb into the back of truck. I don’t look at the girls. Not yet. The driver I heave onto my shoulders and jump to the ground. I take him to the cab and prop his body into the seat. Then I return to the back just long enough to find the gas can Adelita mentioned. I give it a shake. It’s almost full.

Now comes the hard part. I have to make it look to the casual observer that there are three bodies here, not two. I hate touching their bodies. It seems disrespectful. But I drag them together so they’re near the door and almost on top of each other. As if they died trying to get out. I sprinkle gasoline over the bodies, whispering an apology to the girls. I am about to burn away their very existence. The only offering I can make is the promise to avenge their deaths.

I slam the back doors closed, snap the padlock. There’s a small porthole window in one side of the doors. I use my elbow and smash it in. I don’t want to take the chance that the fire might be snuffed out for lack of oxygen. I want it to burn long and hard.

I carry the can to the cab. I push the dead man over and squeeze in next to him. I soak him and the cab in gasoline. Then I turn the ignition and put the truck in reverse.

I see Adelita in the rearview mirror. She is watching, concern and uncertainty on her face. I take one of the cigarettes from the pack in back of the seat, carefully light it, throw the match out the window. When I judge I am far enough away to create the right impact, I change gears, jam the accelerator to the floor and the truck leaps forward.

I open the door, ready to jump out but stupidly, I have miscalculated. The truck hits the rocks before I can jump with enough force to crumble the hood and shatter the windshield. I bounce forward against the steering wheel, the sickening crack of a rib making me recoil with pain. The cigarette falls from my lips and the cab becomes an inferno. I throw myself sideways out of the burning cab and roll away.

The ball of flame leaps skyward. I hear Adelita running toward me before I see her. From her vantage, she could not tell if I escaped the inferno. When she sees me climb to my feet, her relief is physical. She grabs my shoulders and hugs me to her, speaking in Spanish and crying until her body shakes.

Against the pain of broken ribs, I put my arms around her and hug back just as fiercely.