The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster

by Mary Downing Hahn

  ***

  An hour or so later, Señora Perez summoned us to the fire to eat. This time, we took our bowls of stew without complaining. I was so hungry, I would have eaten anything, even brussels sprouts and lima beans. Besides, I told myself, it was better to escape with a full stomach than an empty one.

  After dinner, Phillip, Amy, and I retreated to our blankets. In the dim light, I saw Orlando take his post by the cave's entrance. Charles sat silently beside him, smoking one cigarette after another and filling the air with a foul-smelling blue haze. Never in my life had I seen anyone smoke as much as he did. If our health book was right, his lungs must have been coated black with tar. As usual, he also had a bottle of wine to share with Orlando.

  Near the fire's smoldering coals, Grace sat alone, her face hidden by her hair. There was no sign of Señora Perez. Perhaps she'd hopped on a broom and flown away.

  Finally, too tired to watch my enemies any longer, I lay down beside Phillip and Amy. They were already asleep, and I envied them. Little fingers of cold air poked under my blankets, and sharp stones jabbed me. Amy moaned and cried in her sleep, and Phillip snored. Worst of all were the rustling sounds in the darkness. Suppose a bear had found its way into the cave? Would it attack me while I slept?

  Hour after hour passed. No bear emerged from the shadows. Amy stopped moaning. Except for an occasional snuffle, Phillip slept quietly too. Finally I began to relax, but just when I was on the edge of a dream about home, I felt something bump against me. Terrified, I jerked wide awake and saw Grace's face inches from mine.

  "Sh," she whispered as I sat up, too startled to speak. "It is my turn to be the guard, and Orlando wakes easily."

  "What do you want?" I stared at her, but she was watching Orlando as if she thought he might throw his blankets aside and mow us down with his machine gun.

  When he began snoring, Grace turned back to me. "I am sorry, Felix," she whispered. "You hate me, I know, and believe I have betrayed you. But I did not mean all this to happen."

  I frowned at Grace, trying to see her face clearly but the darkness made it impossible. Her features were blurry, her eyes shadowy.

  "I thought no harm would come to you," she went on, speaking hastily. "We would get money for the hungry children, the sad-eyed ones with nothing but air in their bellies. Then we would let you go. But now because of Orlando all the plans are changed, and I am afraid."

  My heart sped up and my mouth felt dry. "What are you afraid of?" I whispered.

  "Orlando is a dangerous man, more dangerous than I thought. He is wanted for robbery and murder, he is a fugitive," Grace said. "And Charles is weak. He will do what Orlando tells him and not argue. His love for me is nothing, no more than this." Grace snapped her fingers under my nose and I jumped. "He cares only for the money and himself. He is not the man I thought he was," she said.

  "And you?" I stared at her. "What do you care about?"

  "Me?" Grace sighed. "I make no matter in this. What I feel, what I think, is of no importance. To them, I am just a woman. Worthless." She spat into the dust and made a gesture at the sleeping men.

  While I sat beside her, trying to understand, Grace lit a cigarette. The match flared and lit her hair, her face, the tears on her cheeks. Was she crying for herself? Or for us?

  "If you really care about us, help us escape." I rose to my knees and seized her shoulders. "Please, Grace, please. You've got to help us!"

  She pulled away from me and bumped against Phillip. Still asleep, he cried, "Mom, Dad, help."

  Instantly Orlando was on his feet, yelling something in Spanish as he strode toward us.

  "El niño," Grace said, putting her arms around Phillip. As she spoke to Orlando, I caught the word asma, and I knew she was trying to tell him about Phillip.

  But Orlando didn't care about anyone's health. Angrily he yanked Grace to her feet and slapped her hard. Then he turned to the three of us, wide awake now and cowering under our blankets. " ¡Silencio!" he roared.

  Wordlessly, we watched him push Grace back to the fire. Then he sat down at the cave's entrance and made a great show of cleaning and reloading his gun.

  When I thought it was safe, I whispered to Phillip, "We're really in trouble."

  "I know," he murmured. "Should I fake the asthma attack now?"

  "No, not tonight, not while Orlando's here," I said. "Maybe he'll go somewhere with Charles tomorrow. When I think it's the right time, I'll tell you to start coughing and choking. If we cause enough confusion, we can run out of the cave and hide."

  "What good will that do?" Amy asked. "We'll just get lost in the mountains and starve to death."

  "At least we'll have a chance, Amy," Phillip said. "There must be a village or a farm near here where we can get help."

  "But Orlando and Charles have guns," Amy said tearfully, "real guns with real bullets, and we don't have anything."

  "Grace will help us," I told Amy. "She doesn't want anything bad to happen to us, I know she doesn't."

  We looked across the cave. All we could see of Grace was the hump of her body in her sleeping bag. Charles leaned over her, whispering, but he spoke too softly for us to hear what he was saying.

  Not far away, Orlando sat by the cave's entrance. Every now and then he coughed or shifted his position. Sometimes he mumbled in Spanish.

  "I'm afraid of him," Amy said. "I'm afraid of Charles too. And, no matter what you say, Felix, I don't trust Grace. You made a big mistake about her once. You could be wrong again." Then Amy lay down and pulled her blanket over her head.

  "Are you coming with us tomorrow?" I yanked her cover back and stared at her. "I have to know."

  But she wouldn't answer. She just looked at me. Then she rolled over, and all I saw was her back.

  "Amy," Phillip whispered. "You have to come. They'll kill you if you stay here."

  "They'll kill me if I go," she said.

  "Then it doesn't make any difference, right?" I leaned over her so I could see her face again. "If you go. If you stay. It's all the same. Except outside we have a chance of getting away from them. In here, we have no chance."

  "Please, Amy, please," Phillip begged. "What will Daddy say if I come back without you?"

  "What's going on over there?" Charles called. "Go to sleep right now!"

  "¡Silencio!" yelled Orlando.

  We lay still for a few minutes. Then I whispered to Amy, "As soon as Phillip fakes his attack tomorrow, run outside and hide."

  Amy didn't answer, but I hoped Phillip and I had convinced her to go with us. If Grace helped, we could escape, I was sure of it. 1 stole another glance at her, but the cave was so dark I couldn't even see her sleeping bag. There was nothing to do but wait for morning and hope Grace wouldn't let us down.

  13

  While we were eating our morning porridge, Orlando started yelling at us in Spanish.

  He looked worse than ever. His shaggy hair and beard were uncombed, and his eyes were bloodshot. When he got no response except a terrified moan from Amy, he beckoned to Charles. They talked for a few minutes, and then Charles walked over and squatted down be- side us.

  "Orlando's going into town now to see about the ransom," he said. "While he's away, you must behave."

  Scowling at us, Orlando handed Charles his gun and said something else.

  "I am in charge." Charles looked at everyone, including Grace. "Do you understand?"

  When none of us said anything, Orlando nodded grimly. Turning to Grace, he spoke to her rapidly and she mumbled something. Not satisfied, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly as he yelled at her. No one needed to understand Spanish to know he was threatening Grace.

  Letting her go, Orlando tucked in his shirt, smoothed back his hair, and left the cave. Outside, we heard the Volkswagen start and then roar off down the road.

  ***

  Without Orlando, the cave seemed almost peaceful. Charles sat by the entrance, drinking coffee and smoking. Señora Perez tended the fire, sighing from t
ime to time and shaking her head, and Grace sat alone, glancing at us occasionally, her forehead creased with worry.

  "I think you should have your asthma attack now," I whispered to Phillip, "before Orlando comes back."

  "Don't do it," Amy told her brother. "Charles will know you're not really sick, and he'll shoot you."

  "Huh." Phillip glared at Amy. "I fake being sick all the time to get out of going to school, and Dad never suspects a thing. Even you believe me. Anyway," he went on before Amy could interrupt, "I'd rather take my chances with Charles than Orlando."

  Without looking at his sister, Phillip started coughing, softly at first, then louder. As he began gasping for breath, Grace and Señora Perez looked at Charles.

  "The boy," Grace said. "I told you he has asthma."

  Carrying the gun, Charles walked toward us. "Where's his medicine?" he asked me.

  His face a convincing shade of purple, Phillip fell to the floor, still coughing.

  "It's not here," I told Charles. "He must have left it in the Citroen."

  "Do something," Grace said to Charles. "Hold his head up so he can breathe."

  Grasping Phillip's shoulders, Charles heaved him up right, but he was hampered by the gun in his hand, and his movements were clumsy. While he bent over Phillip, I shoved him backward as hard as I could.

  Taken by surprise, Charles dropped both Phillip and the gun. After kicking the weapon as far from him as I could, I ducked into the tunnel, praying Phillip and Amy were right behind me.

  Without looking back, I plunged out of the cave into a gray wall of fog and rain. Unable to see where I was going, I ran blindly, stumbling over rocks and stones. For all I could see, the world ended a few inches ahead of me. Suppose I ran right off the side of the mountain and fell thousands of feet to my death? Suddenly a boulder rose up before me, and I ducked behind it. Crouching down, I felt the strength drain away from me. My arms and legs trembled, my heart thudded, it was hard to breathe. What if the others hadn't followed me? And I was all alone?

  Somewhere behind me, I heard Phillip yelling, but the fog hid everything, and I had no idea where his voice was coming from. At least he was out of the cave, I thought, and alive.

  Just as my heart was slowing down to its normal rate, I heard Charles shout, "Come back here, you little fools!"

  Several shots rang out. I wanted to leap up and run, but I kept my head down and forced myself to stay still. If I moved, Charles would hear me. Even if he couldn't see me, he'd shoot at the noise I made.

  Then I saw him less than a foot away, a vague shape blurred by the fog, moving slowly toward me. Holding my breath, I watched him walk past me. He was pointing his gun this way and that like an actor in a war movie. Only he wasn't acting. If he saw me, Charles would shoot me with a real bullet.

  When I was sure he was gone, I rose slowly to my feet and peered through the fog. Where were Amy and Phillip? Seeing no one, I crept out from behind my rock and moved cautiously from boulder to boulder, freezing every time a stone rolled out from under my shoes. I wanted to call Amy and Phillip, but I was afraid to raise my voice.

  As I edged around a tall slab of rock, I came face to face with Grace. Taken by surprise, I stumbled backward, but I wasn't fast enough. Before I knew what was happening she was pulling me toward her, her hand over my mouth.

  "Do not scream," she whispered into my ear. "I am trying to help you."

  I nodded, and Grace let me go. "Find a place to hide," she told me, "and stay there. If you run, you will fall and hurt yourself. After dark, go down the road to the village. Be careful. I will do all I can to help."

  "Where are Amy and Phillip?" I asked. "Are they all right?"

  Grace shook her head. "They ran from the cave like you, but I do not know where they have gone. In the fog, who can tell?"

  "Will Charles kill us if he catches us?"

  Grace hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs would crack. "Do not think such a thing," she said fiercely. "He could not be that wicked!"

  "But Orlando?"

  Grace hugged me again. "That one is the devil himself. Go now and hide, Felix, go!"

  Then Grace was gone, running away from me and calling, "Children! Children!"

  Cold and frightened, I inched my way down the mountainside in the opposite direction, looking for a place to hide. Several minutes later, I found Amy. She was huddled behind a boulder, sobbing. For the first time in my whole entire life I was glad to see her.

  "Help me find Phillip," she whispered. "I'm scared Charles shot him."

  Taking Amy's arm, I pulled her to her feet. For a second or two she clung to me, shaking. Her hands were icy cold and her teeth chattered so loudly I was afraid Charles would hear them.

  "Come on," I whispered. "We'll find him."

  But it was Charles we found, not Phillip. In fact, we skidded to a stop not two feet away from him.

  Spotting us at the same moment we spotted him, Charles lunged toward Amy and me, but we ducked behind a boulder before he got close enough to grab us. Charles shouted and swore, but Amy and I kept going. We were soaked and cold, and the rocks were slippery, but we weren't about to surrender.

  "You stop!" Charles shouted from somewhere in the fog. "Or I'll shoot!"

  "¡Estúpido pulpo!" I shouted back, remembering Phillip's favorite insult.

  At the sound of my voice, Phillip loomed up out of the fog and mist ahead of us. "Quick, this way," he whispered. "I found another cave."

  Not too far away, I heard Charles panting and coughing, the result of all those long, dark cigarettes he smoked. "Come back here this moment!" he shouted.

  "Charles," Grace called from somewhere. "Over here, quick, I have caught the boy!"

  "In here." Phillip grabbed my shirt and pulled me down beside him. On our hands and knees, we wedged ourselves into a tiny cave, barely big enough for the three of us.

  Charles passed us twice, calling our names and cursing, but he didn't find us. Once he and Grace actually stopped just a few inches from our hiding place.

  "I thought you had the boy," Charles said.

  "He got away and then the fog, it swallowed him whole," Grace said. "Now I think maybe he has fallen off the rocks."

  "That would be too bloody lovely for words," Charles muttered. "I can't think of a better ending for all three of them. Look at my arm—the little savage bit me. He actually broke the skin. See the blood?"

  "Come," Grace said. "We must go back and tell Senora Perez they are gone. Soon Orlando will return. Maybe he will have the ransom, and we can leave this place."

  "Do you realize how many germs flourish in the human mouth?" Charles asked. "I'd rather be bitten by a dog than a child. Suppose an infection develops? I could die of septicemia in these mountains."

  As the sound of their footsteps faded away, Phillip turned to me. "I wish he'd get rabies," he whispered. "It would serve him right."

  "Now what do we do?" Amy asked Phillip.

  "We'd better stay here," I said. "We can't go anywhere in this fog."

  "Who put you in charge?" Amy glared at me.

  "Look, Amy," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "Somebody has to make the decisions, and it might as well be me. At least I don't sit around crying like a baby the way you do."

  Giving me a nasty look, Amy folded her arms around her knees and rested her head on them. In a muffled voice, she muttered something about Miss Know It All. Then she clammed up and refused to utter another word. Phillip and I looked at each other, but we didn't have much to say either.

  Silently the three of us sank down into our own thoughts and waited for the long, gray day to end. The only sounds were water dripping through the cracks in the rocks over our heads and occasional rumbles from our empty stomachs. Every now and then I glanced at Amy, but she never met my eyes. Finally, tired, cold, and hungry, I fell asleep.

  14

  Luckily for us, the fog hugged the mountains till long after dark. Then, all of a sudden, it thinned out into rags and tatters
, and a cold wind blew it away. Over our heads, the stars blazed in the clear sky and the moon cast sharp black shadows across the rocky landscape. We shivered, and, when we crawled out of our hiding place, our muscles were so cramped we could hardly stand.

  "Where's the cave?" Phillip whispered.

  "Over there, I think." I pointed to the left.

  "How about the road? Do you see it?" Without waiting for an answer, Phillip scrambled clumsily to the top of a tall boulder and scanned the rocky hillside for signs of a road, a trail, a path, anything that might lead us out of the mountains. But he saw nothing. The landscape was so desolate, we could have been on the moon.

  "Maybe we should go back to the cave," Amy said. "We'll freeze to death out here. And I'm starving."

  "No," I said. "Orlando will shoot us for sure. Grace told me to go down the road to the village. We can get help there."

  Amy opened her mouth to argue, but Phillip interrupted her. From his perch on the boulder, he looked down at us. "I see the Volkswagen," he said.

  I climbed up beside him, and he pointed to the old bus nearly hidden by an overhanging rock.

  "The road must be there," I said.

  "But it's so close to the cave," Amy whispered. "What if they hear us?" She glanced behind her as if she thought Orlando or Charles might appear at any moment.

  "We have to risk it," I told her. "It's the only way out of here."

  With Phillip and Amy behind me, I crept downhill toward the Volkswagen. The closer we got to the cave, the more scared we were. Fearfully, we slunk from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid the patches of moonlight marbling the ground. Every time one of us kicked a stone loose, we held our breath, waiting to see if the sound would give us away.

  We were at the cave's entrance before we realized where we were. Screened by bushes, it was so small a person could pass by without even noticing it. From inside, I heard Charles and Orlando arguing loudly. Grace yelled something at them, and there was a sound of breaking glass. Señora Perez shrieked and Grace swore.

  Terrified, we forgot to be cautious and ran the rest of the way to the Volkswagen. As we plunged into its shadow, Phillip tried to open the doors, but they were all locked.