The Border Lords

by T. Jefferson Parker

  “Where did he go?”

  “He didn’t tell me. He just wasn’t here one day. I was sad. He was the one who gave me advice on what to feed Pepino, and how warm to keep him, and he told me that squirrel monkeys love their fathers very much and I would become Pepino’s father if I was gentle and slow with him. He taught me that a diet heavy in bananas would make him die. I asked him if Pepino’s species could evolve into human beings someday and Father Joe said no, because monkeys and humans have common ancestors but many years ago monkeys evolved one way and humans another way.”

  Hood heard melancholy in the boy’s voice. Pepino looked up at him and pursed his lips.

  “So, that will be our library someday,” Eduardo said quietly.

  “Will you use it?”

  “No. My family has enough money to send me to high school. Because of ecotourism. I’m an all-A student. I want to be a film director or astronomer.”

  Hood walked over to the workers and asked the Quakers if they knew Father Joe Leftwich and where he had gone. The younger ones looked to the oldest one and he set down his hammer and measured out his words. Yes and no, he said. Father Leftwich had been here and worked very hard with them; he had brought good books from Ireland, where he lived; then he had simply not appeared for work one day and that was that. He was gone. Such are the blessings of the Lord, he said, offered and withdrawn according to a plan we cannot know.

  Hood nodded and returned to Eduardo, who was looking up at the volcano. Some of the higher clouds had cleared and now the great black cone rose majestically into a blue sky from a downy base. Smoke rose steadily.

  “Ready for the wild things, Detective?”

  25

  They continued past the village and around the corn. The trail narrowed and climbed and Hood saw that the creeping vines were prolific here, winding up the trunks of the larger trees. They stopped and waited while a deadly fer-de-lance crossed the trail.

  Pepino stood with his hair on end and screeched down at the serpent.

  “Terciopelo,” said Eduardo. “The velvet snake. Very deadly and aggressive. It’s good that he can’t hear Pepino but all snakes are deaf. Father Joe told me that snakes evolved not into lizards but from them. He thought it odd that a more recently evolved creature would not have legs or ears.”

  Hood watched the big spangled viper inch its way into the jungle. It looked deadly. He had read that there were nineteen species of venomous snakes in Costa Rica. The fer-de-lance killed more people than any of the others. They could get eight feet long. This one looked to be five feet. The moment its tail disappeared into the foliage Pepino stopped screeching and sat down again.

  “Is that the wild thing that Father Joe was studying?”

  “No. But soon.”

  The trail rose and the evening fell and Eduardo led him into a gorge. Its walls were red rock and gently sloping. They side-stepped down the viney flank and Hood steadied himself on the jungle branches until Eduardo told him the eyelash vipers hid in the bushes and their bites were unbearably painful though almost never fatal. They continued down to the bottom of the gorge and walked along a stream until they came to a small clearing ringed by banana and plantain and palms. Here it was nearly dark and Hood was glad he’d brought his penlight for the walk home.

  Eduardo pointed up through the trees. At first Hood saw nothing but the vegetation and red rock of the gorge wall. Then he made out the ragged mouth of a cave. The opening was partially hidden by vines and the blackness of it was an invitation and a threat.

  “Be careful for snakes and tarantulas,” said Eduardo. With this, he slipped through a stand of palm trees and began climbing up the gorge face. Hood followed. The rock was studded with ledges and toeholds and not difficult to climb. Hood pulled himself over the top and stood up on the wide rock shelf. Eduardo pointed to the cave mouth that hung open before them.

  “Father Joe asked me where to find the bats,” said Eduardo. “We have many bats. Some boys from school showed me this place a long time ago. If we stand right here, they’ll fly past us. Father Joe and I did this several times.”

  A few minutes later a small bat flitted from the cave mouth and came toward them. It flew just over their heads and Hood turned to watch it climb through the banana trees and disappear into the purple dusk.

  “Bats,” he said.

  “Many hundreds,” said Eduardo. “Look. More.”

  Another came climbing unsteadily, then two more; then Hood heard a strange burst of flesh and fur and high-pitched squeals and the sky turned black with them. It was a river of wings and small faces and it flowed over them, and Eduardo giggled softly and Hood could smell the guano and the meaty reek of their bodies and when he glanced at Pepino, the monkey had buried its face in the back of Eduardo’s neck.

  “Vampire bats,” said Eduardo. “Father Joe wanted to see vampire bats. Not fruit bats. Not pygmy or long-eared bats. Only the vampire. They were named after the vampire myths of Europe, not the reverse. There are of course no vampires here in Costa Rica, or anywhere else. That is superstition. But these bats live on the blood of animals and sometimes people. This is science.”

  Hood watched the black onrush. He felt the air moved by their wings and one of them swooped low and grazed his face and Hood leaned away from it but into another that flapped past with a sharp chirp not six inches from his ear. Tiny eyes glimmered and flashed within the black, membranous flow.

  Then the flow ended and a few stragglers bounced out into the air and Hood turned to watch the black bulk of them melt into the sky toward the farms and villages.

  “They will feed tonight on the blood of living animals,” said Eduardo. “Mostly cattle and horses. Their saliva contains an enzyme that makes their bite impossible to feel. This is how they fool the host. They scrape the flesh and lap the blood. They do not suck the blood. If I become a director, my first film will be a documentary on the vampire bat. It will deal with both superstition and science. These animals have faces that terrify people. They even frighten me. So, am I superstitious? I don’t think so. They frighten Pepino. But how can a monkey be superstitious? Maybe it is scientific to be afraid of vampire bats. But then, how can a monkey be scientific?”

  “Well, it’s scientific to let the fer-de-lance cross the path without disturbing it.”

  “Yes! Proof of science. Father Joe would have liked you. He said science and superstition are different answers to the same questions.”

  “Have you been inside the cave?”

  “Never. Father Joe told me about the Ebola virus and other fatal viruses. Probably ones that don’t have a name yet. He said to never go inside the cave.”

  “What did Father Joe do here?”

  “He observed. He wrote in a small notebook. He took photographs. He captured some bats with a butterfly net and we inspected them. One evening on the way home we found Itixa on the road and it was obvious that she had followed us. She was perspiring and stuck with leaves and twigs and trying to stay ahead of us. I believe she told my father what we did. And the next day he told me not to go anywhere with Father Joe. He said that Father Joe was not trustworthy and not what he pretended to be. That night our meal had very much garlic. And all meals after that until Father Joe went away.”

  Hood stepped to the opening and shined his penlight inside. The breath of the mouth was rank and cool and he could see the white mounds of guano on the floor and the malingering vampire bats still fastened upside down to the rock ceiling.

  “Do you remember the Americans? Sean and Seliah Gravas?”

  “She was beautiful like a goddess.”

  “They liked Father Joe.”

  “They ate and hiked and got drunk together.”

  “Did you talk to Sean and Seliah?”

  “Mr. Gravas liked Pepino very much. He offered me twenty dollars for him but of course I refused. Mrs. Gravas was amused by Pepino’s expressions and she told her husband that he needed a monkey of his own. Those two people had love. You could tel
l. When Mr. Gravas was drunk he became very emotional about his work. He never said what he was. What was he, Detective Hood?”

  “A businessman. He buys and sells guns.”

  In the near darkness Hood could see Eduardo give him a long look. “That makes sense. Because he seemed convinced that he was not doing good in the world. Yes. That does make sense.”

  “Seliah told me that one morning at your resort, Sean woke up and felt good about his work. He had a new, positive attitude.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Seliah believes that Father Joe had somehow swayed Sean into this new way of thinking.”

  “But that’s something my father would say. Superstition.”

  “Well, certainly a strong-willed person can influence another person.”

  “Yes.”

  “But then, a few weeks after they got home to California, Sean began feeling bad. His body hurt and his mind wouldn’t slow down and he couldn’t sleep. He began doing strange things. Then foolish things.”

  “Such as what?”

  “He had his dog baptized.”

  “That is blasphemy, but it is funny, too.”

  “Seliah told me that one night when Sean was sleeping, Father Joe sat at the foot of the bed and spoke to him in his sleep. And touched his bare toes.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Were you around that night? Did you see anything like that?”

  “No. I go to bed at nine o’clock during the summer.”

  “Did he ever do anything like that to you?”

  “No, never.”

  “Father Joe told Seliah he was not touching Sean’s toes at all. He said he was keeping away the biting flies. The same kind that bit you and infected your toe. Seliah found blood on Sean’s toe that night after Father Joe had spoken to him and touched him—or didn’t touch him—in his sleep.”

  “Detective, it is scientific to keep away those flies. This is something that Father Joe would do. Mrs. Gravas must not have reasoned accurately. If she saw blood on his toe, isn’t this evidence of the biting fly?”

  Hood looked at Eduardo in the early dark. The boy’s eyes were chips of light and so were the monkey’s eyes but lower and closer together.

  “What do you think happened down here between Sean and Seliah and Joe Leftwich?”

  “I think they became friends.”

  “Did Joe ever talk to you about the night that he shooed the fly from Mr. Gravas?”

  “I knew nothing about it until now.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about Sean and Seliah?”

  Eduardo thought for a moment. “He told me he thought they were people who might do important acts.”

  “Acts.”

  “That was the word he used.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I have no way of seeing such things.”

  “And if you did, would it be science or superstition?”

  Eduardo thought again. “I think one can turn into the other. Father Joe said this.”

  “What did Father Joe say about you?”

  Eduardo laughed softly. “He said I was the future of the world.”

  “He’s right.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. “I want to talk to Itixa.”

  “She will talk to you. Believe me.” Eduardo told Hood the best time and place to find the woman.

  “Thanks for bringing me up here,” said Hood. “I’ve got a light to help us get home.”

  “Keep it on the path in front of us. Some of the snakes are nocturnal and they like the streams. Snakes shine at night. Even more than wet branches. Watch for what shines.”

  Before dinner Hood sat on his observation deck and watched the volcano. The night had cleared and he could see it clearly in the distance. The lava moved down from the mouth in red fingers, and a cloud of steam wafted up. Arenal rumbled every few minutes and twice Hood saw large molten boulders rocket into the sky, then slam down to the earth where they showered sparks and rolled down the mountain in loudly cracking crisscross patterns until coming to rest in bursts of rising embers. The happy-hour crowd in the Volcano View bar sent up a cheer.

  At dinner the bar and restaurant were raucous. The Germans saw two quetzal and documented them thoroughly. The French had had a terrific butterfly day and the California frog and toad hunters had done well with five species of tree frogs, two with deadly poison in their skin and glands.

  Hood watched Itixa come down a torch-lit pathway toward the rear door of the kitchen. She came out a few minutes later through the same door with a plate of food covered in tin foil. Hood waited below the oil torch and when she saw him he spoke in Spanish.

  —Good evening, Itixa. My name is Charlie Hood.

  She stopped and looked at him. “English. Quakers teach me.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your dinner. But I want to talk to you about Father Joe Leftwich and the Gravas couple—Sean and Seliah.”

  “Why?”

  “Some bad things have happened to Mr. and Mrs. Gravas. And they all seemed to begin here at this lodge with Father Joe.”

  She was short and stout and had a belly. Her black-gray hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she wore a loose maroon dress with birds and butterflies embroidered around the neck. Her cheekbones were high and her chin narrow and her face an etched lattice. She searched his eyes matter-of-factly.

  “Come, I tell you.”

  Hood followed her up the dirt pathway. It bore rake tracks and either side was bordered by tropical plants and flowers. Her casita sat behind a small grass clearing with a blue table and three blue chairs. She set her plate on the table and tapped the back of a chair, then disappeared into her home.

  Hood sat and smelled the food. Tonight’s entree was roast beef with garlic and baby onions and he was hungry again. He saw a bat flicker at the edge of the torchlight, then wheel back into the darkness. He looked out to Arenal and the trickle of hot red lava lacing its way down the cone and thought of the saliva swaying on Seliah’s chin and he wondered if she had spent another night in the hospital.

  Itixa came back with two open beers and she handed one to Hood, then sat. From a pocket of her dress she produced flatware wrapped in a white paper napkin.

  “I eat. Tell me of bad things of Mr. and Mrs. Gravas.”

  Hood told her what he could about their strange ailments and erratic behavior. He told her that Sean had left his job and his home and left Seliah, too. As he spoke he watched her expression become worried, then calculating, then touched with fear.

  “A man when he lies have a look,” she said. “Hard to see. Father Joe have the look. I stay away him and he stay away me. Mr. Gravas have look. Mrs. Gravas no look.”

  “What lie did Joe tell?”

  “He was the lie.”

  She ate and Hood sipped the beer.

  “Asema,” she said quietly.

  “Joe was an asema?”

  She studied him, chewing. “In the day, a man or a woman. At night, the asema take off his skin and become a ball of light. Blue light. Drink blood of people. If they like the blood, they drink until the person die. Asema hate garlic and some herbs. You find the asema skin and put many salt and pepper and skin will shrink. Asema cannot get skin back on so it dies. Sun kill asema also.”

  “What does this have to do with Father Joe?”

  “Listen. Eduardo goes to the library they build. Eduardo think Father Joe is good. Always talk and laugh. Eduardo tell me Father Joe want to see the bats. Bats are evil, this I know. I follow because I fear for Eduardo. They see the bats fly. They are the blood-drinking bats, the bats of damnation. The bite of this bat will create asema. I see Father Joe push Eduardo into the cave. It was in my dream. When they leave the cave I run fast but they see me. Later I tell Eduardo I don’t care you see me! I protect you! I tell your father everything I see! He calls me superstitious witch.”

  “And his father told him to stay away from Father Joe,” said H
ood, remembering that this was when Itixa upped the garlic for all Volcano View meals until Father Joe left.

  He watched Itixa swipe the last of a tortilla across the last of the juice on her plate. She finished her beer and got two more from her casita. They were open and cold.

  “You told him there are some things a child does not need to see or know.”

  She looked at Hood and in the torchlight he could see the worry on her face. “I tell Felix. For his son.”

  “Please tell me.”

  She looked past Hood and out at the jungle, then leaned toward Hood and spoke quietly. Her eyes caught the torchlight and they were black and shiny as obsidian. “On the night they all drink too much I am there for beer. I like beer. I see Mrs. Gravas embrace Mr. Gravas. I see her shake the hand of Father Joe. Then she go walking, not . . . not a walk that is straight. She go to her room. I come back very late for only one more beer. Bar is closed but I hear voices of the men in Father Joe’s room. Is loud. Both talking. In the morning I clean the rooms. Everyone gone. In Joe’s room I empty the basket into the bag. Something is moving in the bag. I put down the basket and open the bag and look in. There is a bat. It is wrapped in tissue. It makes very bad face. Hate is this face. It is a vampire bat. Bloody mouth and bloody chin and bloody teeth. One wing is broken. It is almost escaping the tissue.”

  Hood felt his heart downshift. “A bat like the ones in the cave?”