Haunted

CHAPTER 34

MY THOUGHTS ARE FOCUSED ON ONE THING—take this trail deeper and deeper into the desert and farther and farther away from the village. If Ramon wonders why Max would come this way instead of heading back toward the road, I’m hoping he attributes it to Max being disoriented. He heard Max say in the Jeep that he’d never been in this part of Mexico before.

I run, fast, leaving as much damage as I can in my wake. Environmentalists would rank me with off-road vehicles and dirt bikes on the list of forces destructive to the Earth’s gentle crust. I kick, pull and crush whatever is underfoot.

When I gauge I’ve gone ten miles or so, I stop and look back. The meandering path of destruction looks good. A little obvious, maybe, but I’m hoping Ramon either isn’t smart enough or is too angry to make that distinction. And it’s dark. Ramon will only see what his flashlights allow.

Now to get back. This time, I make a wide arc away from the trail I just laid and run like a light-footed cat instead of a charging rhinoceros. I doubt Ramon will be able to tell anything except that the trail suddenly stops. Let him waste time trying to figure it out.

I almost get caught. I hear Ramon and his party as they arrive across the road from the rocks and burned-out truck. I have to dive for cover in some brush. I end up sharing the space with a startled rattlesnake that curls and hisses at me.

Culebra? I ask hopefully.

The snake’s only response is to rattle threateningly and slither backward away from me.

Away from me.

Vampire is smiling. Not Culebra.

Ramon leads his gang toward the rocks and has soon picked up “Max’s” trail. I wait until they are well on their way to leave my hiding place and take off for the village.

As soon as I’m in communications range with Culebra, I open my thoughts, hoping Ramon didn’t do any permanent damage.

His reply is weak but coherent. You’re back.

Are you all right?

Depends on your description of all right. But maybe you should check with Ramon. I think I broke his knuckles with my face.

The husky sound of Culebra’s labored breathing as he attempts to laugh wipes the urge to smile off my face. You don’t sound well. I’m coming in to get you.

No. As quick as before. Adamant. I’m in no danger now. Luis and his guards will be coming here to eat at daybreak. They might let something slip that will give away his brother’s location.

Are you sure you’ll be all right?

Yes. I told you. They have orders not to kill me.

But it’s all right to beat him senseless. Reluctantly, I settle back into my den. By this time, I’ve actually made a nice little indentation for myself. Max’s duffel is secure behind me. A glance at my watch shows there’s still three hours until dawn, four until Max is due to call. I’m glad I had time to tell Max about Maria. She may be waiting in ambush on the path to the Jeep. If she and Gabriella were able to get out through that damaged door, that is.

I scoot down, curling into a ball, and rest my head against the duffel. Stephen’s face pops into my head. I’ve been gone how long? He’s probably in Washington already. I can’t call him. I have no idea how much battery power I have left in my cell. I can’t waste any to check. Besides, what would I say? Hadn’t I already come to the conclusion that going to Washington was out of the question for me?

Can’t dwell on something I can do nothing about. Four hours. This may be the last time I have to question Culebra about his past. I reach out to him.

I’m here, he replies with an echo of sarcasm that asks, where else would I be?

Tell me why Santiago still has it out for you?

At first, I think he’s not going to answer. Or he’s ignoring me. There’s no open communication link between us. All I can do is wait for him to make up his mind.

At last he does.

I did more than kill for Santiago. His tone is heavy with recrimination and regret. I told you I was hungry for money and power. So an opportunity came along—one Julio found out about—and I jumped at the chance to participate.

Another pause. I feel Culebra steeling himself to go on. At last he does.

It was a gun deal. Julio had a contact in the ATF. An extremely well-paid contact. A cache of guns that was to go to another government organization was hijacked with this mole’s help and brought across the border. Eighteen hundred automatic rifles and handguns. And we delivered them into Santiago’s hands.

Julio was a hero. Until it was discovered that Julio’s “mole” was an undercover agent. The deal was a sting to track the guns to Santiago and the other cartel heads. We started getting hit with raids on our homes, on our businesses. The ATF came looking for the guns.

They underestimated how quickly we were able to distribute and hide those guns. They found nothing. But the ATF interference caused a serious setback to the drug operation. For months, we were stopped from using our normal supply routes for fear of being raided. The Federales increased patrols, closed down the money houses, followed us night and day. Even our families were harassed.

Santiago blamed Julio. A whisper campaign started. Rumors that Julio knew the guns would be traced. That he’d made a deal with the ATF—safe passage to the U.S. for him and his family if he ratted on Santiago. And collect a huge bounty.

There is so much sadness, so much regret in Culebra’s tone that it hurts my heart. His mind closes for an instant. I ask, What happened to Julio?

Another long moment of silence. Santiago had him killed. I was spared because Julio never gave up my part in the operation. He was tortured, but he never gave me up. In spite of it, Santiago had his suspicions. Julio and I were so close. But he decided he couldn’t lose two of his best executioners, so he chose to let me live. That time.

He pauses another long moment. I wait for him to continue, wondering how I could have condemned him on Christmas Eve without hearing the whole story.

Sorry that I did.

How does Ramon figure into all this? I ask finally.

Ramon was from my village. My only friend. Remember my sister? The one I said was murdered? It happened right before I decided to leave my village. It was a gang of local thugs. They picked her up on her way home from school. Took her to an abandoned building. Tortured her, raped her. We found her body a week later in a pile of garbage.

The words stop abruptly. Culebra goes still and silent. Then, I vowed revenge. Ramon said he would help me. We set out to find the gang. It wasn’t hard. We simply hung around the schoolyard waiting for another innocent girl to be targeted. We didn’t have long to wait.

Less than a week after my sister was murdered, they went after another girl. Ramon and I followed them to an old barn on a piece of property long deserted. There were three of them.

It wasn’t hard to kill them. Ramon and I called them out of the barn, said we were Federales. They were kids, not more than sixteen. The idiot cabrónes came out with their hands up! Ramon and I shot them where they stood. We let the girl go. She had no problem promising to keep our secret. Ramon and I waited until she had run away, then we dragged the bodies inside the barn. I found my sister’s locket and trophies the boys had taken from other girls. There were six trophies. For six girls. I realized then the villagers had to have known what was going on. And yet they did nothing to protect their children. They kept the secret because of shame or guilt or pride.

It made me sick to live among such cowards. My parents had already made it clear I was a freak, un bestia. I now held them in contempt, too. I left soon after that.

His voice leaves an echo in my mind as the words stop. So helping you avenge your sister is why you felt you owed Ramon a debt?

Yes. And because I brought him into Santiago’s operation when he, too, fled the village. I took him under my wing the way Julio did me.

Do you know why he’s turned on you now?

Another empty silence. I wait.

I believe he is trying to save his own skin, Culebra says. He made a mistake killing that minister’s son. Money is more important to Santiago than blood. There is a bounty on Ramon’s head now, and on the heads of his wife and daughter. It couldn’t have been a hard decision for him to make—trading my life for theirs. I would have done the same thing.

I don’t believe it. But I make no comment. Instead, I’m not sure I understand. What could Ramon offer Santiago?

Knowledge that I’m alive. That I was involved in the gun operation. Ramon was the only other person who knew of my involvement with Julio and the ATF sting. One of the first things I did when I recovered from being shot was to give Max the locations of the hidden guns. They were able to recover some of them and round up a few of Santiago’s lieutenants.

But not Santiago or the big boss?

A sharp laugh. They were too smart. They’ve always been too smart.

So you did a good thing, right? You saved a lot of innocent lives by getting those guns back.

A sound like a small sob makes the hair stir on my arms.

Not good enough. They didn’t find all the guns. I am haunted by the ghosts of those who have been raped, robbed and killed with the weapons they didn’t find.

You did what you could.

I didn’t do enough.

The link between us closes abruptly. Through my lacy curtain of leaves, I see why. Men are moving toward his shack, talking softly among themselves. I see two guards I recognize from before and in the lead, someone I don’t. A short, fat man I can only guess is Luis Santiago.