Beware The Fury

by C. I. Lopez

  The memory of being raped by Toni still filled her with apprehension. She feared Federico would soon want much more than the kisses and caresses she enjoyed so much. The engagement was yet to be announced, and marriage was still at least a year away.

  It had been a week since the two young lovers had seen each other. As the groggy girl woke up, delighted that it was the first day of the weekend and she was to spend time with Federico, she felt a malaise come over her. The week’s wait to be with Federico had seemed interminable to her. Yasmin’s head was spinning. She ran to the bathroom as nausea overtook her.

  What Yasmin didn’t know was that the waiting had been even harder for Federico. He had been unable to sleep, counting the hours until their days together. This was, of course, except for days when he visited the bordello.

  Federico woke up to ‘Magic Saturday’, the day he was to see Yasmin again. He was out of bed, eager to walk across the field that separated their two houses, barely able to contain his excitement. Federico refused breakfast and dressed carefully to impress his young fiancée.

  His nerves were on edge on arriving at the Samudio home. To calm himself before knocking on her door, Federico paced back and forth on their long balcony, dreaming of holding Yasmin in his arms again. Finally, he couldn’t postpone the moment any longer and knocked on the old wooden door.

  Federico was expecting to see a smiling Yasmin opening the door, but instead, it was Narcisa who appeared. With a kind smile, she greeted the young man. Warmly, she invited him into the living room, where she explained that Yasmin could not see him that day. She was indisposed and still in bed.

  The young man was bitterly disappointed. “What is wrong with her? Is she seriously ill?” His hands shook, remembering his own mother’s illness when he was only five years old. As a child, Federico wasn’t told of the gravity of the situation before his mother died, which made him feel just as helpless hearing that Yasmin was sick.

  Narcisa patted Federico’s hands, assuring him that Yasmin should be over her flu in a day or two. “You know this twenty-four-hour virus lasts just about that long, but can be intense. She assured Federico that his future bride should be ready to see him very soon. Narcisa suggested he return the next day, confirming that Yasmin was as eager as he was for them to see each other.

  “Couldn’t I see her for just a few minutes, now?” Federico was insistent.

  “I’m sorry, but Yasmin had a bad night, and she is sleeping. Go on home and come back tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be over it by then.”

  Narcisa watched the gloomy young man as he ambled back across the field with his shoulders slumped. He often stopped, turning to look up toward Yasmin’s window, hoping to glimpse her.

  *

  Since she was a toddler, Yasmin had been an early riser and the first one down at the kitchen, long before the sun was up. She and Ofelia, her former nanny, now turned cook, shared their early mornings together. Ever since Yasmin could walk, she learned to make her way down the stairs to be with her nanny in the courtyard.

  As time passed, and the girl grew, it turned into a ritual, a special time to share the problems of a growing girl. The intimacy of the morning was the perfect time for such confidences, while the rest of the household slept. Ofelia looked forward to these shared times as much as Yasmin.

  While Yasmin convalesced, Ofelia missed their early conversations and the sharing of information. For two days, the nanny-turned-cook sent up trays with Yasmin’s favorite food, and they had returned practically untouched. Forever the nanny at heart, Ofelia thought it was time for her to check on the girl herself. She would do so later in the morning, as soon as the breakfast chores were done.

  Ofelia’s quarters were located away from the main house but within the courtyard and adjacent to the kitchen. After Yasmin and her sister, Eva outgrew their need for a nanny, Narcisa offered Ofelia the job of cooking if she wanted to remain employed in the household.

  Ofelia was delighted to accept. She had become very fond of the two girls and had no plans to go elsewhere. It worked out perfectly for both women, as Narcisa was busy with her sewing and was happy to have the help.

  During her tenure, helping raise the two girls, Ofelia had become part of the household, and no one could imagine the house without her. As they were growing up, the two sisters continued to trust their nanny by confiding their most personal concerns. In this way, they avoided the possibility of their mother’s persistent criticism.

  Filled with concern for Yasmin, Ofelia prepared the morning coffee, as was her daily morning routine. She was sitting sadly at the table, having her first cup by herself when she heard the soft steps of bare feet behind her. Surprised, she turned to see the pale but still smiling, Yasmin in her kitchen.

  Ofelia left her coffee to stand up and hug the girl who felt so small in her arms. “Thank God, you are feeling better.” Ofelia touched Yasmin’s cheek affectionately, checking for a fever.

  Yasmin gave a faint smile but said nothing.

  “You have no fever,” Ofelia said. “All you need is some food to gain your strength. Today I’ll fix my famous chicken soup that can bring the dead back to life.” Ofelia laughed as she hugged the frail young woman. “But first, let’s have our coffee and catch up with the last few days.”

  “Did Federico come by yesterday?” Yasmin asked weakly.

  “Of course, he did, girl. Your mother talked to him, and she explained how sick you were.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to wait another whole week to see him again,” Yasmin said. She sat down on the chair by the kitchen table.

  “But you won’t have to wait for another week.” Ofelia smiled. “Your mother told him to come back today because she figured you’d be well, and here you are feeling better. He’ll probably be here later this morning, eager as a young pup.”

  “I wish we didn’t have to wait a year before getting married, Ofelia. It’s tough to be courting for so long. We really love each other and want to be together all the time.”

  “That boy is a real prize, Yasmin. He loves you, and he’ll wait for you forever if necessary. You’ll have to talk to your mother if you want to get married sooner.” Ofelia brought two cups of her fresh brew, placing one in front of Yasmin. As the aroma of the fresh coffee reached Yasmin, she ran outside to the courtyard, holding her hand over her mouth.

  Surprised, Ofelia watched as Yasmin was beset by dry heaves. Yasmin’s empty stomach making an effort to vomit, seemed to be trying to pull the girl’s insides out.

  “My dearest girl,” Ofelia said, alarmed, running to soothe the girl with a warm cloth. Gently, she wiped Yasmin’s face trying to calm her down. She held her in a tight embrace until the heaving stopped. “You are not sick, my dear, you’ve gone and become pregnant with that boy’s child. Now you will have to get married.”

  “It didn’t happen like that, Ofelia. Federico would never do that to me.” The tears flowed while Yasmin told Ofelia the whole story of what happened on the night of the feast of their patron saint. She explained why she had been late to meet Federico and why she had been disheveled. She told her about the lies that she and Eva had made up to cover up the truth.

  Ofelia listened, wide-eyed and silent.

  Yasmin explained that she knew Federico would break the engagement and cancel their wedding plans if he found out. If anyone learned the truth, it would break her mother’s heart, and there would never be a wedding for her. She was pregnant with Toni’s child.

  “Ay Dios Mio (Oh my God),” Sofia said, making the sign of the cross and reciting a short prayer with her eyes turned up to the sky. “Yasmin, nobody can know about this. We’ll have to find a reason to get you away from here for the next seven months.”

  “That’s impossible, Ofelia.”

  “Difficult, yes, but not impossible. My sister has a nice house in the capital where you can stay, and I am sure she can find a good home for the child.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  �
�She might even keep the child herself. Her greatest desire in life was to have a child of her own but she was never granted one. For her, this would be a blessing from heaven.”

  “Please help me, Ofelia. How am I going to get out of here without anyone knowing?”

  “Más vale maña que fuerza (Brain is worth more than brawn),” Ofelia responded in Spanish. “Child, if you had lived as long as I have, you would know that women have always found ways of getting around the truth. It’s the way we survive in this man’s world.”

  Yasmin sat down once again, her features displaying her panic.

  “Wait here,” Ofelia said and went off to use the phone. She returned a short while later. “I have a friend who owns a taxi. He will be here before the sun comes up to take you to my sister’s house.”

  “Today, Ofelia?”

  “It’s best to do it right away if we are going to get away with this. We don’t have much time before your mother and sister wake up.”

  Shaking, Yasmin hugged her former nanny.

  “You’ll have to be very brave, Yasmin. It’s the only way I can think of for you to still be able to marry Federico and keep your family from shame.” Ofelia held her very close.

  “All right. I’ll go pack.”

  “Just bring a change of clothes wrapped in your blanket. You might need it to keep you warm during the long trip, and don’t wake your sister.”

  “I am so scared, Ofelia.”

  “Bring a sheet of your stationery to write a note for your mother and for Federico. We will have to write a convincing explanation, giving as few details as possible.” Ofelia suggested bringing the paper to the kitchen where they could write the note without waking up Eva. Ofelia would place it on Eva’s dresser before everyone woke up.

  “I heard your mother go out late last night in the old truck,” the nanny said casually.

  Yasmin was surprised. “Where do you think she went?”

  “I don’t know, but she was very mysterious about it, waiting until she thought everyone was in bed.”

  “Oh, no, what if she went to get a doctor for me?”

  “Who knows what she was up to? Yasmin, you need to hurry.” Ofelia handed the pregnant girl a cup of medicinal tea to calm her stomach and sent her back to her room to do as she’d been told.

  Yasmin returned when dressed.

  “We’ll write the note here,” Ofelia said. “You can lie in my bed until the taxi arrives. Hurry. This is our best chance to get you away.”

  When Ofelia heard the taxi arrive at the back door, she hugged the frightened young girl, assuring her that everything would work out. “God bless you.”

  Yasmin climbed into the old taxi.

  *

  Believing it was unbeknownst to anyone in the house, Narcisa had gone out late on the previous night while the thunderous sky lit the night with its play of lights. She waited until everyone was asleep, determined on her mission. She ran to the old barn where her departed husband’s vintage pick-up truck was stored. Under her arm, she carried a bag with a piece of clothing belonging to her daughter, Yasmin.

  The old Chevrolet spat and sputtered when she turned the key, but it eased out of the barn purring without a problem. The electricity-filled-sky would help lead her way since the truck’s only working headlight could barely light the street in the heavy rain. It was not a night to be out, and Narcisa shuddered at the thought of seeing the old hag again, but she’d always depended on her when there was trouble. The ancient witch was her last resort in the anxiety she felt over her future and that of her daughter, Yasmin.

  If Narcisa’s daughter didn’t marry Federico, her own life would be one of mediocrity and disgrace. It was common knowledge in town that the son of the wealthiest rancher in the province had asked for Yasmin’s hand in marriage. Retrieval of that offer would make her the mockery of the town, and it was unlikely she would get another offer that compared to that of Federico.

  Although the fear of the old hag made Narcisa hesitate, she made a sign of the cross to help protect her from the woman’s evil, and she proceeded. Her need to know drove her onward to the turn, marked only by the mango tree where Cordelia, the witch, tied white strips of cloth that beckoned like the bony fingers of death.

  The darkness seemed to engulf the woman’s house, which made Narcisa afraid to step out into it until a rectangle of light from the open door silhouetted the bent over Cordelia at the entrance. Creeping in the dark, clutching her daughter’s clothing, Narcisa was startled when her face brushed the skeleton of a rooster dangling from the eaves near the door. A device to keep strangers away.

  “I’ve been expecting you, Narcisa,” the old crone said.

  “How did you know I was coming?” Narcisa was afraid of the woman’s knowledge of the supernatural.

  “I could hear that old truck as soon as you turned at the mango tree,” Cordelia said, cackling at her own joke, exposing a toothless mouth. Narcisa couldn’t help but laugh too as Cordelia placed her bony hand on Narcisa’s arm and led her into the house as if she were an old friend. The witch supported her aged and bent body by holding on to a short white cane that the town’s people rumored had once been the femur of the witch’s long-departed husband.

  The interior of the dingy, mud-baked house was lit only by the burning candles that surrounded an altar covered with an assortment of unidentifiable repugnant items. A quick glance detected a monkey’s desiccated head and other animal skulls. Bowls emanating foul-smelling vapors from the variety of sustenance offered to her menagerie were arranged in small scattered patterns.

  Narcisa’s eyes refused to linger on the sight.

  Spitting into a hollowed-out skull of some creature, Cordelia led her client to the table she used for divining. “What brings you here so late, Narcisa?”

  “I’ve brought my daughter’s clothes for you to tell me what’s wrong with her. She refuses to eat, has become moody and cries for no reason, refusing to see her fiancée but once a week while he calls on her daily.”

  Cordelia held the clothes in her skeletal hands, closing her one good eye, standing still, as if in a trance. Her expression contorted into a wizened mask of disgust before she opened her eye and threw the clothes back at Narcisa.

  “Narcisa, this child isn’t sick; she’s got secrets hidden in her heart that I cannot reach. I see her path strewn with rocky obstacles and blood. Leave her be. She will fulfill her own destiny.” Cordelia stood and turned her back on Narcisa, as if letting her know she was finished. “Go now, you’re wasting my time. Go!”

  “I need to know if there is marriage in her near future, can you please tell me that?”

  Once again, taking back the piece of clothing with displeasure, Cordelia spread it out evenly on her table. She lay her twisted hands over it, closing her eye again. Her hands pulled back as if struck by a jolt of electricity.

  “She will marry soon. Now go and leave me be.” The witch shuffled her way to the door and held it open for Narcisa. Her gaze downward so as not to look Narcisa in the eye.

  “Thank you,” Narcisa said, somewhat more at peace, dropping a few coins in a hollowed-out monkey skull by the door. As she drove back through the dark night, her anxiety diminished.

  Narcisa returned the old truck to the barn and hurried to the house, noticing the lights were still off, as they had been when she left. Confident that her daughter’s marriage to Federico would happen, she slept soundly.

  The next day Narcisa looked forward to seeing Federico at her house for the noon meal. She was sure Yasmin’s malaise was due to his absence and maybe also the stomach flu, which should be over by today.

  PART ONE

  Chapter 4

  A Missing Person

  Detective Mendoza, was the local Chief of Police in the simple village nestled deep in the mountains where Yasmin grew up. Mendoza received one of the most bizarre phone calls he’d had during his career. An officer of the National Guard called him regarding a possible murder investigation conc
erning a resident in his jurisdiction. Detective Mendoza thought it must be a mistake, as there had never been a murder in the village. Maybe a crime of passion between two drunks, or a domestic dispute, but never murder.

  He was warned by the National Guard lieutenant that this might be a professional hit by one of the drug cartels. Mendoza was sure that the young lieutenant must have called the wrong number as no one had called regarding a missing person. Apart from this, organized crime never reached their small village, one of many dotting the mountains. As the lieutenant explained, the detective’s reluctance turned to apprehension, for his precinct consisted of two officers, a clerk, and himself. It wasn’t prepared to deal with organized crime.

  Lieutenant Santos Sosa, an officer in the National Guard, was sent in from the capital to work with Mendoza on the case. A forensics team was already at the site, taking prints and processing the crime scene. It was on the Pan-American Highway that connects the United States to Argentina, except for the Darien Gap between Panama and Colombia. It was a highway well known for its drug traffic, but at least two hours from Mendoza’s village.

  “What does this have to do with my precinct?” Mendoza asked, confused.

  The officer explained that they had found the remains of what had once been a car, perhaps a taxi, burned to ashes. At this time, his forensics team could not determine if there was anyone in the taxi because the metal was still too hot. The unmistakable stench of burned flesh seemed to indicate there were people involved. The team was sifting through the ashes.

  Lt. Sosa said, “It is estimated that the accident occurred at approximately 6:00 am, just before sunrise. The wreckage wasn’t discovered until after the sun was up. Someone driving on the highway noticed the smoke and called the local police.”