by Brian Hodge
Go early, get a renewed feel for the place. They’d parked east across Malcolm McKinley Drive after turning north off Busch Boulevard. Left the car in one of the auxiliary lots and caught a tram on one of its endless circuits. Twenty-two and a half dollars a head got them through the main gates, and as with his previous visit, some employee in Indiana Jones clothing snapped their picture together — all a part of your day at Busch Gardens. A claim receipt was thrust into his free hand — the one that wasn’t carrying a gym bag — and he was told he could pick up the print later that afternoon. Only five additional dollars.
Bad memories, he didn’t need this. He wished he’d sprung the few extra bucks for the picture of himself and Erik. One final memory, assurance that once upon a time, life had promise.
Justin looked around at the other park visitors. Families, couples, groups of friends, all of whom seemed determined to have a fine time despite the sweltering heat. He felt like a mutant in their midst.
Check the time: four o’clock. Two-and-a-half hours to showtime. Here in late May, Busch Gardens ran on a nine-thirty-to-seven-thirty schedule. He was hoping the place would be a bit more thinned out by six-thirty.
Didn’t want to traumatize any more kids than necessary.
After the rigors of last night, the day already felt long and wearying. A trip to a sporting goods store to buy the gym bag, plus a box of 7.62mm cartridges for the AK-47 — which he hoped would be unnecessary. Then the airport’s long-term parking lot to recover the five kilos. Finally, hardware and drug stores for the last few odds and ends. Ready, set. The rest was up to sheer dumb luck.
“When you meet Tony here inside the main entrance,” Justin said to April, nodding at the rough, desert-hued portals, “take the lead. Bring him on through the park to meet us. Soon as you can get off by yourselves, get a little privacy, make him show you the cash. You don’t do that, he might know something else is going on.”
She squirmed, uneasy, but nodded as he unfolded the brochure map given to him by a parking-lot attendant along with their permit. The graphics were cartoonish and simplified, but the overhead layout was all he needed. His finger pinpointed their current location, then traveled a gradual path to the northwest.
“We’ve got to get him up here in this corner, but if you walk it the whole way, it’ll be tough getting him around to that rock hill without him realizing what’s on the other side.” He flicked his finger near the center of the map. “Take him to the Nairobi Station and get on the train there.”
He followed the tracks’ path to the east, then as it curved north, and finally back to the west along the top of the park. Most of the route looped what was dubbed the Serengeti Plain, a large preserve of free-roaming animals. Zebras, giraffes, impala, gazelles, water buffalo, more. His finger tapped the northwest corner.
“Take him off the train here at the Congo Station. Then all you do is bring him down this little path, and to the rocks the back way. We’ll run the course just to make sure, but you got all that?”
April nodded. “What if he’s not alone? He might have someone following.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. But I’m betting he’ll be alone. I mean, why bring backup when you can do what he can do now?”
“Watch his eyes,” Kerebawa offered. Half grudgingly, but a marked improvement. It was the first thing he’d said to her since last night. “Watch who he watches, where he watches. The eyes will tell you if he comes alone.”
Justin led them through the entire circuit, from entrance to train to disembarking to the spot she’d have to bring Tony. They moved in somber contrast to everyone else around them, no joy, no delight, no interest in rides or gift shops or animals.
An hour had passed by the time they strolled south along the middle of the park and left April near the entrance. She waited beside a fountain, and Justin felt unexpectedly cold upon leaving her there. He felt her eyes at his back while he and Kerebawa set off the same way they’d come from. He would not turn around, could not.
You brought this on yourself.
Soon they were out of sight, and he decided the two of them should take a little time trying to enjoy some sights. Justin led Kerebawa to a shallow fenced pond stocked with alligators. Most lazed like olive green statues. A few glided through the water, prehistoric tails slowly whipping side to side.
“The iwä,” Kerebawa said softly as they stood over the pond on a wooden platform. He shook his head in mild disbelief, as if things had come ironically full circle.
They moved along, Kerebawa’s head a perpetual swivel as they passed rides, festive buildings, contained animals. Justin wondered how pointless it all looked to him. Bulldozing nature to recreate it in some other foreign image.
At last they neared their destination. To their left, a glimpse of a vast skewed crater in the ground. A flash of blue water, a series of observation posts around the perimeter, gray rock bluffs at the north end. Justin and Kerebawa held their path until they moved in behind the bluffs, topped with foliage, and halfheartedly fenced off from the walkway. At one end, a small orange, brown, and white plaque read DANGEROUS ANIMALS — PLEASE DO NOT CLIMB ON ROCKS.
Justin leaned against one of three planters at the base of the rocks. Made from tiers of weathered wood, each sprouted a twisting buttonwood tree. Nice and shady back here. From somewhere up on the rocks, hidden speakers droned a constant ambience of animal cries and native drums. Muzak, Congo style.
Justin rested the nylon bag at his elbow atop the planter. Looked at the side he planned on keeping away from Mendoza the whole time they were dealing with him. Unless you were looking for it, the narrow slit cut along the bottom was invisible. The red spur protruding from it resembled a loose thread, if a thick one.
“You are hungry?” Kerebawa asked when he heard Justin’s stomach growl.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Guess I haven’t felt much like eating the past couple of days.”
“There is time.” Kerebawa pointed west along the curving path, bordered across from them by a stockade wall constructed of round vertical logs. Justin followed his finger until he saw a food stand far down along the path.
Justin shook his head. “Later. And listen … after all this is over? I’m buying you the biggest meal you’ve ever seen.”
Kerebawa stretched and patted his stomach with a grin. He looked very young all at once, very innocent. “I have seen some big feasts in my time.”
“I’ll bet you have.”
It was a pleasant moment, cutting the tension as easily as a knife. Pleasant, but all too short-lived. They were left looking at each other with no more delusion over their chances to sustain them through the duration.
At ten minutes until the meeting time, Justin pushed the bag closer to Kerebawa. “You still got that lighter I gave you?”
Kerebawa fished it from his pocket. A brand new butane.
“Still remember how to use it?”
Kerebawa gave him what he had once taught Justin as the Yanomamö version of the bird finger: an eyeball bared by tugging down the lower lid. Holding his eyelid, he lifted the lighter and flicked the flame, waved it for inspection. Smartass.
Justin returned the gesture with a wry grin, then glanced around. A momentary lull in foot traffic back here, might as well take advantage of it now, while it lasted.
“You better get up into those rocks and find someplace to hide yourself.”
Kerebawa put the lighter away, deep into a pocket. He rested a hand on the bag, full of the elusive green cargo he’d chased over more than two thousand miles.
“As soon as you see us get to these trees and planters,” Justin said, “you know what to do.”
“I know.”
Their eyes met, the great moment of frozen dread. Time to separate, leave behind the courage bolstered by proximity, standing side by side. He wondered if April had felt this hollow in the pit of her stomach.
“Friend,” said Kerebawa, and each met the other halfway in a brief, fierc
e hug. Justin smelled the sharp tang of his heat and sweat, and it meant as much as a lover’s perfume.
They broke. While Kerebawa slipped up the rocks, graceful as a cat, Justin crossed the walkway to stand against the stockade wall. To wait, alone.
Hating every minute of it.
Especially when he looked at the sky.
Tony was on time, and April found herself disheartened by his punctuality. Life and business go on, without hindrance.
As soon as she saw him crossing through one of the vast portal gates carrying a canvas satchel, she feared she was hallucinating. Too much stress, too much guilt, chemical malfunctions in her brain. This could not be the same man she’d seen gunned down last night, half human and half devil. He had run away in a shambles of a body. Whatever he was, April had been expecting bandages at least, maybe a limp or some other sign of convalescence.
Instead, he was as robust as she had ever seen him.
Only when he came closer — smiling behind a pair of mirrored shades, hair drawn back into a careful ponytail, tight and lean in his leather and tank top — did she see the scars. At least the visible ones on his bare shoulders. Pale striations and faint puckers against the dusky brown of his skin. He blew her a kiss.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said. Never lost the predator grin.
She swallowed hard. Be strong, be tough, or he would gain the upper hand before she knew it. Didn’t matter if it was only psychologically; that first wedge would make the next all the easier. Here was the chance for redemption. Lose it, and living with herself would be tough, if she lived at all. For if guilt was anything, it was corrosive, slow death while eaten alive from the conscience outward.
“So you’re back on Justin’s team again, huh?” he said with an amused smirk. “Really playing both ends against the middle, aren’t you?”
“I figured I’d try doing the right thing again.”
“Right thing. Huh. That’s in the eye of the beholder.”
April stepped forward and placed her hands on his sides, ran them along his hips. Then swallowed her revulsion and skimmed them along the insides of his thighs.
“I’m not carrying a weapon. I look like I could fit one in these clothes?” He huffed indignantly. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had already.”
She ignored him, continued to pat him down as subtly as she could. A sun-wrinkled woman with dyed red hair walked by, and her expression soured with distaste.
“Get a motel, why don’t you?” she said down her nose.
April glared back. “Mind your own business, you prunefaced bitch.”
The woman huffed, stomped away. Tony burst into laughter, high and delighted. Grabbed her behind and was still laughing when she shoved him away. He patted the bulge of his crotch.
“You act like you still remember your way around down there.”
She flushed with barely restrained anger. Wisps of hair clung to sweat newly broken on her cheeks. She pushed them free.
“Take off your boots, let me see in each one.”
Tony perched the shades atop his head so she could see him roll his eyes. “Knock it off, this is stupid.”
“You do it, or this whole thing is off.”
“And then you’re dead.”
April stood her ground. “I’ll take that chance. Maybe I wouldn’t have before, but I will now. Believe it.”
This time she chalked up a minor triumph for herself. He looked visibly irrited as he complied, first one boot, then the other. Nothing tucked inside, he was clean. That left only the bag.
“Okay,” she said. “This way.”
Side by side, they moved deeper into the park. He slipped back into cool composure a few steps later, dropped the shades down again. Through the simulated Moroccan street, into a shaded area designated as Nairobi. April eyed a spot beside some caged parrots that looked private enough, for the moment, and motioned him to follow. So far as she could observe, he had come alone.
“Open the bag.”
Tony sighed and unzipped the canvas satchel, held the opening wide. Money, bundled and green. Lots of it, more than she had ever seen at once. Twenty bundles of one thousand each — or so it looked, without time to count each stack — jumbled loose inside. No weapons, either. The bag was the type with a hard, flat bottom. She rapped her knuckles a few places. Solid, no hidden compartments.
“Happy now?” Once more with the irksome smile. “Where to now, boss?”
“Just up ahead.”
They joined a flow of others who looked to be having a better time, followed a row of fan palms, then veered through the turnstiles of the train depot. Had to mill about the platform for another five minutes before the next one came along.
The train was built solely for sight-seeing — an engine, followed by a string of cars with open sides and flat roofs. A flood of people got off, others remained in the rows of molded bench seats facing the front of the train. They boarded, settled down for the ride. As soon as the platform had emptied, the train started off with a lurch, and a girl near the front in one of the safari outfits began her tour-guide spiel. The family on the bench behind them were camera freaks, and she heard the constant clicking of shutters and whirring of motor drive units.
Tony propped a brown arm onto the seat beside her, leaned in with a conspiratorial light to his face.
“You know,” he said, “looks like Justin’s gonna be taking his earnings from today and, well, he’s just gonna be kissing you off for good — you know, suck the fat one, honey. Not that I blame him. Bitch like you, you fuck a guy over like that the first time, how’s he ever gonna trust you again? I don’t blame him one bit, taking this wad and blowing town.”
“Shut up,” she whispered.
“I guess he knows I’m planning on taking real good care of you. I should think that goes without saying. Don’t you?”
“Shut up.”
He smiled, very broadly, flicked his tongue in the air before her nose. She could smell his breath, hot, heavy, a thick meaty scent. She wanted to gag.
“Mmm hmmm. Good care of you. Be ready to spread those thighs tonight. Tomorrow night. The next night. Whenever I catch up with you.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned within a couple of inches of her face. “Because I’m gonna eat you out like you’ve never been eaten before.”
The train ride went on, and every minute at Tony’s side was an hour, a day, a week. On the flat and rolling plains, the displaced animals walked, ran, or stood and stared at this strange processional in their midst. The engineer had to stop once for a zebra that wandered onto the track and stood there, glaring in defiance.
“Who was your friend last night?” Tony asked later.
“Friend?”
“Yeah. Guy over by the railroad tracks.”
April saw no point in denying Kerebawa’s existence. It wouldn’t wash, not with Tony. “It’s a long story. He’s from Venezuela.”
Tony frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Arrows? Bow and arrows? I bet he had something to do with Escobar.” He shrugged, chuckled. “No way to smuggle those into this place. They’d think he was here to hunt the animals. Too bad about one thing, though. Can’t surprise me twice with this guy.”
Tony thoughtfully stroked the side of his mouth. Smiled.
“Maybe we’ll have a chance for a proper introduction this time.”
April watched him from the corner of her eye, feeling as though she were treading the razor’s edge. No trust anywhere, with any of them, only suspicion, paranoia, hate. And still Tony seemed so calm. She saw his lips protrude for a moment, thought he was working his tongue around inside his mouth.
She was wrong.
He smiled at her, tightly, briefly. But the glimpse was eternal, enough for her to see every new tooth in his skull, evolved in just moments. Triangular, sharp, uppers perfectly meshed with lowers like two saws coming together. She shut her eyes and turned aside, remembering how well they could strip away flesh, without restraint. H
e chuckled at her side and stretched a taut muscled arm around her shoulders, pulled her close. She resisted, but couldn’t fight, couldn’t make a scene. Not here, not now, not this close.
Her stomach rolled again as he leaned in to nuzzle her hair, two sweethearts on a quaint train ride, and the carrion breath washed sweet and fetid past her face. Piranha teeth clicked in her ear, close, closer, then his lips were at her earlobe and she could hear that breath. A brittle whine began in her throat as she felt his teeth open, brush her earlobe, then nip down, and pain pricked her, hot and sharp. Anyone else would have mistaken the whine for delight, but no, he’d bitten a nick out of her earlobe. She felt the beads of blood welling up to drip to her neck, hidden by hair. April trembled, feeling his tongue lap at the blood, once, twice, remembering all too well the electric effect blood had had on him last night. It took a staggering amount of self-control to keep from leaping off the train, running away to seek refuge among the giraffes and gazelles.
“I’m learning self-control,” he whispered in her ear. “But you better still keep me calm. You know how excited that smell can make me. And you know if it goes too far, I just. Can’t. Stop myself.”
His tongue squirmed against her earlobe once again, while time dragged eternal. He pulled back, finally, smiled to show her that his teeth were back to normal. While she felt her blood dripping, dripping.
“I owe you for Lupo.” The smile vanished. “That was just the beginning. We’ll have time for more later, plenty of time.”
While the train clattered on, April looked to the sky. Felt fresh heartbreak when she realized that none of them had thought to check a simple weather forecast today. Sunny this morning, sunny early this afternoon, so it should have remained sunny all day. But the clouds had come, low and dark and sullen.
The first fat raindrops panged down onto the train car’s roof, harbingers of a coming downpour on their heels. No, please, it’s too late to stop everything now too late, TOO LATE!
