Relief washes over him and he breaks into a huge smile. “Thank God!” he says aloud then texts back, “She is all right. Good. Where is she now?” He is thinking that the best medicine for Sister Mary would be for him to find Isabel and bring her to the hospital, where her presence would be as much salve as any hospital care.
“She left the church. No one has seen her since, but I can put out a call to everyone about her. Do you want them to bring her to you? Has she done something wrong?” the parishioner texts.
“No. No. It’s Sister Mary. Sister Mary is asking about her. She is in the hospital,” he texts back.
“Sister Mary is hurt? Is it something Isabel did to her?” is the return text.
Father Donovan’s patience wears thin with the multiple implied accusations against Isabel. “For God’s sake, no! Isabel has done nothing wrong. Please. Sister Mary would benefit greatly by Isabel’s presence and I’m sure that Isabel is worried about Sister Mary. I need to speak with Isabel and I need her to accompany me to the hospital to see Sister Mary. I’m on my way back to the church. Just let me know when someone sees Isabel again, and thank you very much for doing this. You have been a great help to me and especially to Sister Mary.”
He pockets his cell phone and shakes his head, weary of his parishioner’s suspicions. When he gets to his car, he places the cell phone on the seat next to him and then drives off towards his home neighborhood. As he drives across the Mapocho River that borders his neighborhood, his cell phone pings again. He looks down and sees that it’s from his parishioner again.
“Isabel left the area in the company of a big man and another child. We got the license plate number of the truck they left in,” the text reads.
Father Donovan is shocked. A big man and a child with Isabel? Immediately he thinks the worst, but then realizes that Isabel has been on and off the streets for a long time without injury to herself. She somehow manages to have enough street smarts to not get into the wrong vehicle with the wrong person. And the presence of the other child complicates his concerns. Is the other child just part of a lure or does Isabel know the man and child?
After crossing the river, he pulls over to a curb, stops, and texts, “Are the man and child part of our parish?”
The reply is quick. “They did not recognize the man, but the child appeared to be Isabel’s sister.”
Sister? That is news to him. As far as he knows, Isabel has no family and has never spoken of siblings or other relatives. She was always a black hole when it came to personal information. But the news means that he will not be bringing Isabel to Sister Mary.
Perhaps he should contact people he knows in the police department with his concern for Isabel in a strange man’s truck. The trick would be to not sound alarmist while still conveying his concerns. Thinking about it, he knows just the man to rely on in the police department.
He pulls up the man’s number and fires off a carefully worded text, wondering when the man will get back to him. If he is caught up in the stadium bombing, it could be awhile. Meanwhile, he has to come up with something to tell Sister Mary. At the very least, he can confirm that Isabel is not injured from the stadium blast.
Next, he pulls up the number of his contact at the hospital Sister Mary was brought to, and requests her status. A few minutes later, he receives a text that states she has been inspected by the doctors and is currently sedated and sleeping in a private room. Her room number is included at the bottom of the text.
Father Donovan breathes a sigh of relief. Confirming that Isabel has not been injured at the stadium bombing is done. And with Sister Mary sedated, he won’t have to worry her with the story of Isabel climbing into the truck of some unidentified man.
Yet, the “sister” part of Isabel’s leaving the area nags him. He will have to seek out the ones who saw her and speak to them. If she does have a sister, was the man her father? And where has he been all these years? It is indeed a new puzzle.
Chapter 27
Day 2
Santiago, Chile
Zed studies the mountain of a man crossing the room and walking by his 6’8” tall Uncle Forbes, dwarfing him as he passes next to him. The bathroom robe he wears, much too small for his big body, accentuates his bulk and makes him seem even bigger. Then the odor hits him. Unfortunately, even freshly showered and shaved, the man still exudes homelessness and a defensive odor. Perhaps, like a skunk’s spray, multiple cleanings are required. Doctor Eloisa de la Cruz didn’t smell of it until she was threatened; maybe there is some hope of removing it.
“Ángel. Appropriate name,” Zed thinks to himself. “Guess if I was to have an angel watching over me, I’d want someone as imposing as him.”
Forbes breaks into Zed’s reverie.
“Zed, I’m going to try and find some clothes for this guy. You okay to watch over things here?”
Zed looks around Sonnet’s and the twin’s hotel suite and assesses the situation. The twin and Sonnet, seated at a table, are in friendly conversation with the screamer named Isabel, who seems comfortable and relaxed. The mirror version of Isabel sits next to Isabel, holding her hand and giving her assuring looks. Rafa and Twizzle sit at the table, watching, listening and glancing every now and then at each other in unspoken communication.
“I think things are taking care of themselves for the moment. I’m sort of the fifth wheel right now.”
Forbes looks over to Ángel, who stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window staring out into the city beyond.
“Make him feel at home, okay? The fact that he speaks English should make it easier for you. Get him whatever he needs. I should be back in less than an hour.”
“Will do, captain,” Zed says and gives Forbes a mock salute.
Zed turns his attention to Ángel, who is unmoving with his hands folded behind his back, at ease and removed from the people behind him.
The guy looks like an escapee from a pro wrestling circuit, Zed thinks to himself. A fleeting image of Ángel dressed in wrestling costume flashes through his mind, making Zed smirk. He joins Ángel at the window and says, “Beautiful view. Even better at night when the lights are on.”
Ángel remains stoic and silent.
Zed’s curiosity gets the better of him.
“So is your skin tiger-striped under that robe? I’ve seen a person like you, once. Touched her skin and had her inject her poison into my hand. She released her defensive odor like you. Unusual defenses.”
Ángel turns his head towards Zed, looks down at him and asks, “Do you want to touch?”
Shaking his head, Zed replies, “Once is enough. Took my hand about an hour to get any feeling back.” He looks back at Isabel and says, “So you and Isabel are a pair. You’ve known her for a long time?”
Ángel turns back to the window. “Many years. Most of my life I have watched over her and carried her through times of trouble.”
Zed blinks in disbelief.
“But she’s only a kid.”
“She is timeless by your standards.”
“But she’d be full grown.”
“I understand your confusion. You judge her by her current manifestation.” He turns to face Zed, “But, based on what your sister’s twin has told me, you would recognize her in her prior manifestation. You are one of the ‘Bangala Elongó’, just as I am one of the ‘Habladas Silencio’; the same, but different. You are of Africa. I am of South America. Yet, we are brothers in the ones linked to each other.”
“I don’t feel your presence like I feel ones I’m linked to.”
“And I do not feel yours, but I feel ones like me and they feel me.”
“We are subsets of the same species. We call the entity we are linked to Gi.”
“I am told this by your sister’s twin. She is Gi also, just as Isabel is Gi.”
Zed is surprised.
“She’s an avatar of a little girl? She’s inhabited by a Chilean Gi just like the twin is?”
Ángel nods.
Ze
d looks at Isabel and shakes his head in disbelief.
“She doesn’t act like a Gi.”
“The Gi is lost inside the girl. She does not know who she is. She is very damaged and has been slowly healing for decades. Only recently has she started to bloom and regain her abilities. Yet, I’m concerned by recent events surrounding her.”
“Recent events? If she’s the screamer, you mean the three kids that were fused in the car? And the kids fused into the mountain? And the stadium with injured and dead fused people?”
“Yes. Her history shows nothing of this sort. It’s a new development. Something I think she’s unconsciously creating out of necessity, a necessity that has to do with other events.”
“Are you saying that she’s recreating herself in preparation for a different threat? A threat much greater than the children?”
“Yes.”
“Alien attack again?”
Ángel looks Zed in the eyes and says, “You are bred for such as that, are you not?”
Zed shrugs his usual shrug.
“You are integral to the defense of our Habladas Silencio advancements. Maybe your arrival has triggered something within her, something I’ve never seen before.” He looks back at the table, where Isabel sits in conversation, and he says, “The arrival of your family has brought changes other than hers. Another is moving and shifting in preparation for something large that all of you may be peripheral to, or may be integrally linked to. Do you know what I speak of?”
Zed doesn’t know what he is talking about. How his family’s arrival could trigger things, is beyond him, but this is the interlinked world of Gi, where anything is possible.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Zed catches a sudden move by Isabel, who stands from her chair and announces loudly, “I must leave.” Or is it Isabel’s mirror? He can’t tell anymore.
The child points to Rafa and says business-like, “You will take me. We leave now.”
When she points to Ángel and says to her lookalike, “You will stay with him as you have been,” Zed realizes it’s the mirror Isabel talking.
She turns to Rafa, takes his hand and pulls. “We go now,” she says in an air that suffers no dissent.
Rafa considers her for a moment then stands and says in a matter-of-fact tone, “We’ll have to make a stop to get you a helmet and a thicker jacket.”
He turns to Twizzle and asks, “You okay without me?”
Twizzle nods. “Go. Just keep in touch.” She stands, kisses him on the cheek and whispers, “Take good care of her. She’s just a little girl.”
Rafa harrumphs at the understatement and turns to Isabel’s mirror. “Keys and my stuff are in my room. Bike’s in the garage. Do I need to bring anything special?”
“I am all you need.”
Forty-five minutes later, after a trip to the same cycle store that delivered Rafa’s bike to him, the two of them are headed north on the six-lane divided Panamericana Norte Ruta 5 on Rafa’s all-electric million-dollar concept bike. Mirror Isabel wears a leather jacket, helmet, and leather gloves. Her arms are wrapped tightly around his waist and her helmet is pressed against his back. Through the wireless mic and earbuds Rafa has supplied her, she maintains verbal contact with him.
“You okay back there?” his voice comes through close and personal. They weave noiselessly around traffic on the highway.
“I am fine. The ride is comfortable.” The words delivered in a child's voice, but with adult confidence seem unreal to Rafa, like a cartoon character with incorrect voice-over.
“The city of Caldera is about nine and a half hours from here. We’ll be stretching the reach of my bike’s battery.”
“While you recharge, I will explore the coast in preparation for our final destination.”
“Volcán Lascár is eleven and one half hours from Caldera. The nearest town to Volcán Lascár is Toconao, a little under nine hours from Caldera. I’ll have to recharge in Toconao.”
“Your recharge time will allow you to rest and me to make preliminary plans.”
“You’re sure you want to do this?” He is having a hard time attaching her actions to her child body.
“It must be done. I must see firsthand.” She is imperious and stolid.
“You probably won’t survive,” he says doubtfully.
“Not in this form. It’s expendable,” she explains unemotionally.
“So I just release you and return to Santiago.”
“You take me to the foot of the volcano, where I leave you.”
“You don’t want me to wait for you.”
“It would be pointless. I’ll not return.”
There is a minute of silence, and then his voice comes through her earbuds again, “You’re sure about this?”
“After we part, I’ll wait two hours to allow you to put adequate distance between the two of us. In the event of an eruption, you will be far enough away.”
“Eruption? Hell!” He hadn’t considered that. What the hell is she going to do inside that volcano? he wonders.
Chapter 28
Day 2
Santiago, Chile
Father Donovan knocks again at the apartment door, sure that he heard voices from within. After a few moments, he hears approaching footsteps, the door opens, and a portly small dark-haired woman with a friendly face and a big smile says jubilantly in Spanish, “Father Donovan. Always good to see you. You want to talk to us about little Isabel, correct?”
Father Donovan bows and smiles. “Mrs. Acebo, you are looking well today. Yes, this is about Isabel and you are very kind to give me your time. Do you have a few moments?”
Beckoning him in, she leads him to their small living room and then offers tea. After he accepts and they catch up with each other, he gets down to what he is there for.
“So tell me of your encounter with Isabel.”
“Oh, Camilla saw her and pointed her out to me.”
Father Donovan recalls Camilla, Mrs. Acebo’s young daughter, who is about Isabel’s age. Nice child.
“Were you far away from her? You’re sure it was her?”
“We were only a few shops away from her when Camilla saw her. We had just come out of the store when Camilla commented on the fact that Isabel must have a sister.”
“The girl you saw Isabel with,” Father Donovan guesses.
“Yes, remarkable similarity, like they were twins. Same size, same hair. Camilla said they must have planned to look like each other because they wore the same clothes.”
“You’re sure it was Isabel.”
“Father Donovan, Isabel has been to our home, had lunch with Camilla. Such a poor thing, always so dirty and never taken care of. A real tragedy. A shame no family ever takes adequate care of her.”
“So you know her and are sure it was her.”
“Of course.”
“And you took down the license number of the truck she was in?”
“Valentina said you were looking for her, so I had Camilla take a picture of the truck.” She pulls out a cell phone, plays with the display and then shows it to Father Donovan. She has zoomed in to the license plate that can be clearly read.
“Excellent. Email that to me and I can take it from there.” He leans back on the couch and says, “About the man, what did he look like? Her father perhaps?”
She shakes her head. “No. I couldn’t say. He was big, but we didn’t get a good look at him before they drove away. Just that he was tall and it didn’t appear that Isabel or her twin were being forced to go with him. Maybe he is an uncle or something.”
Father Donovan has heard and seen enough. He thanks her, excuses himself, says goodbye at the front door and then, as he walks away, forwards the picture of the truck to his police contact with a note to text him about it. Surprisingly, he receives a response a minute later from his contact, who says he will get him information on the truck in a few minutes.
“Angels of mercy!” Father Donovan exclaims out loud at the quick response. Maybe
he is destined to retrieve Isabel for Sister Mary, after all. Five minutes later, his contact sends him information on the registration. The truck is registered to a Forbes Brown, who gave a Santiago post office mailbox as his address. This is not a good sign. But his friend quickly follows with a cell phone number that Forbes Brown could be reached at, which is enough for Father Donovan to work with.
He starts to text the number, but halts midway and decides this warrants personal voice attention instead of a text conversation. When he punches in the number, it rings and rings until it is finally answered by a man speaking in English.
“Is this Mr. Forbes Brown?” Father Donovan asks in Spanish.
The man responds in Spanish and asks who he is speaking with. Father Donovan identifies himself, says he is the pastor of the church where Sister Mary works, and that he is concerned for a young child Sister Mary has in her care, a child named Isabel.
“Ah, Isabel,” Forbes says. “You are calling in concern for her wellbeing, I would assume.”
Forbes’ friendly voice is reassuring to Father Donovan. “Yes. We are very concerned about her.”
“Would you like to speak with her?”
Father Donovan is surprised at how quickly this is moving. “Of course,” he stammers. “Yes, of course, that would be excellent.”
After a brief silence, Isabel’s voice comes on the line. “Father Donovan?”
“Isabel! You are all right?”
“Yes, Father Donovan,” she says meekly, and then adds sorrowfully, “I lost Sister Mary.”
“I know child, the two of you got separated. That’s what she told me. She is very concerned for your welfare.”
“You spoke to Sister Mary??” Isabel suddenly comes alive with happiness.
“Yes. I spoke to her at the hospital. They took her from the stadium and now she has her own room at the hospital. She is under good care. She’s not too hurt from the bomb blast, but she was so concerned about you. Are you sure you’re okay? Are you with a relative?”
Girl with all the Pain Page 16
