The Things They Didn't Bury

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  Chapter 38

  Liliana

  Liliana ground her teeth against the steel sponge that had been shoved into her mouth, the bitter taste of rust filling her throat with saliva and she thought she might drown in it. She could feel Diego’s back slumped against her. He was heavy and she tried to balance him against her spine, keeping him upright. Sunlight drifted in from a small square window, highlighting the dust that was floating off of the abandoned furniture lining the walls. Cardboard boxes, warped by water damage, and filled with bedding and old clothes, were stacked in the middle of the room. The dust and green mildew smell swirled around Liliana’s nose and she tried not to inhale but it climbed in like an insect and set her throat burning. She tried to cough and relieve the itch but inhaling only wedged the steel sponge farther down her throat.

  She could feel the sharp hairs fraying and scraping along the inside of her cheek, eliciting a gag and she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly through her nose as she tried not to choke. She watched below the door directly in front of her, measuring her safety by the exchange of light and shadows bleeding beneath the frame.

  The cold from the cement beneath her began to slip under her skin, numbing her legs and she tried to bend her knees, all the while trying to keep Diego balanced against her back. But she felt him slipping and she squeezed her arms behind her, trying to hold him in place. Her muscles began to burn and she closed her eyes again, protecting them from the sting of the sweat peeling down her brow. She stretched out her fingertips, which were bound behind her back, trying to reach for one of the belt loops on Diego’s jeans. She scraped the fabric with her fingernail but she couldn’t reach it. Diego’s cheek was now resting on Liliana’s shoulder, his stubble scraping across her skin. She felt him slipping and suddenly he slumped forward, his face meeting the concrete floor. A soft moan escaped his lips and then the door was being thrust open.

  One of the men stepped inside, glancing at Diego lying limp on the floor before dragging Liliana to the opposite side of the room, untying the rope around her wrists and refastening them around an exposed pipe that ran floor to ceiling. Liliana tried to twist out of his grasp before kicking him with both feet in his left knee but he barely winced before fastening the final knot—the ropes cutting into her until she could feel the harsh thrum of her pulse.

  He glanced back toward Diego and they both watched him as he slowly came to on the floor. His eyes were still closed but, slowly, he began to bend his knees, his body folding into itself as the pain finally registered. The man turned back to Liliana. She narrowed her eyes, dark behind her wild hair and he just smirked. Then he drew back his hand and struck her across the mouth.

  “You want to cooperate now or am I going to have to call your uncle and let him know you’re being difficult?”

  He hooked Liliana by the jaw and she winced as his fingers curled under her chin, crawling down her throat. He smiled exposing a row of silver teeth just shiny enough in the dim room to reflect Liliana’s warped and clouded outline. Then he pulled up a corner of his shirt, revealing the black silhouette of a gun.

  “If you try any shit like that again, I’ll come in here and shoot him in the fucking head, you got that?”

  Liliana watched as Diego began to open his eyes and then she looked back at the man and nodded. He made his way over to Diego and grabbed him by the scalp, wrenching him up from the floor like a dog.

  “That fucking bitch is gonna get you killed,” he spit at him.

  Diego just stared at her, eyes fluxing and dark as he slowly took her in—her bare feet twisted together with a piece of rope, her mouth trapped under a strip of duct tape, her eyes red and swollen. The man released his grip and Diego slumped onto his back, still and silent as they waited for the door to close. When they heard the soft click of the lock Diego rolled onto his stomach and began sliding along the cold concrete floor toward Liliana. The soles of his boots grated along the cement and he stopped, waiting, hoping no one had heard him.

  A few seconds passed, but there was only silence on the other side of the door and Diego began his slow advance once more. But then a shadow slipped in beneath the doorframe, pooling there near Diego’s feet and he stopped—both of them holding their breath. When no one came in he slid up onto his knees and hurled himself the rest of the way to Liliana, teeth gritted as he fell with a muted thud.

  The onset of night slipped in through small dust covered windows, settling over them as Diego silently slipped his hands behind Liliana and plucked at the rope around her wrists trying to loosen it. He hesitated then, leaning against the exposed pipe. Liliana could see his face, flushed and pale beneath the moon. She watched his fingers, pulsing and plum as he tried to stretch them, to move them at all. But they were numb. He slipped onto his back, hands flat and mangled behind him and Liliana searched his eyes as his feet twisted inside his boots. Sweat trickled down from his hairline and then he met her eyes, nodding once though she wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her. He twisted, lifting his feet into her lap and then he wedged the toe of his boots between her legs. She squeezed them together as tightly as she could while Diego pulled, the leather between her legs sinking as Diego wriggled free. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the form give way and then he was tumbling onto his back, his feet bare.

  Diego balanced one of the boots between the arches of his feet, lifting it and turning it until it was upside down. Liliana watched as something flickered in the light and then slipped out, the metal landing with a soft clank against the floor. She held her breath, eyes fierce on the door but no one came. Diego gripped the knife between his socked feet and rocked back and forth on his back until he could reach Liliana’s hands, her fingers splayed as he slid it between her palms. She fumbled with it, almost dropping it before she was finally able to snap it open.

  The blade shot out, cold against her skin and she held it tight between her hands as Diego sat up, maneuvering his wrists under the serrated edge. Liliana held steady as Diego slid the rope binding his hands across the knife, grating the thick fibers across the blade. And though a burning had started deep in her wrists, she kept her grip firm and her eyes on the space below the door as fiber by fiber the rope began to split, until it finally fell from Diego’s wrists and onto the floor.

  Diego ripped the tape off of his mouth and took the knife from Liliana before silently grabbing an old chair from a pile of dusty furniture and wedging it under the doorknob. Then he slid to his knees in front of Liliana, pulling the tape off of her mouth before cutting her out of her ropes. She rubbed her wrists and Diego’s hands curled around her ankles, both of them kneading the skin until they were flushed pink and the pulse returned.

  Diego held a finger to his lips and then pointed to the small square window. It was dark outside but they could see a porch light glowing just on the other side of the wall. Beyond the door they heard the quiet buzz of a television set mixed with a heavy grumbling, like someone was snoring. Liliana made her way to the window and pressed her fingers to the glass as she examined the dark outside. Empty field sprawled out in every direction, the faint silhouette of curling rows and fluttering vegetation all she could see. But there were other shadows too, larger, like farming equipment or maybe even a shed. Diego placed his fingers beneath the window frame and tried to push but it wouldn’t budge. That’s when Liliana saw his fingers graze over the edge, thumbnail poised over the head of a nail. The entire thing had been nailed shut and the metal heads painted over.

  Diego flipped open his knife and worked to chip away at the wood beneath each nail but they were deep and the tip of the blade slowly began to bend beneath the force. They were surrounded by large objects that he could use to break through the glass but they had to make a quiet escape and he silently stepped around the room, hoping to spot something useful in one of the dark piles or cardboard boxes. He circled back toward Liliana, leading her away from the window as he watched the door.

  He pressed his mouth to her ear. “The only way out i
s through that door,” he said. “We have to get that guy to come back in here.”

  Liliana looked at him, shaking her head.

  “I’ll hide behind the door. Sit back over there,” he said nodding to the exposed pipe. “Make some kind of noise and when he comes in, I’ll grab him from behind.”

  “But he has a gun,” Liliana whispered, “and we don’t know how many more are out there. It’s too dangerous.”

  Diego placed his hands on Liliana’s shoulders and gently led her to the vertical pipe. He knelt down and she mirrored him, sliding against the pole and placing her hands behind her back as Diego pulled his boots back on.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he breathed, lips grazing her forehead quickly before taking his place behind the door.

  He nodded, once and Liliana scanned the boxes next to her, her eyes finding something shiny and translucent, the form cold on her fingertips. She pulled out the large rectangular vase, the glass dense and heavy in her lap and she wondered if she would be able to hurl it fast and hard enough to smash it. She perched on her knees, lifting it over her head and then she threw it against the far wall—the glass shattering from the inside out and littering the floor in a glittering spray. Diego hung back, waiting as the door flew open.

  “What the fuck?”

  The man searched the room, his eyes still adjusting to the dark as he spotted Liliana’s shadow. He took a step forward and the glass splintered beneath his feet—the sound sending him backward and almost tumbling over one of the cardboard boxes. Diego threw an arm around his throat, the other gripped tight to his chest, and started to squeeze until the man’s skin was flushed like a pale flame. It fluxed red, then blue as he tried to reach for the gun hidden in the waist of his pants. But then his eyes fell closed and his trembling hands fell limp and he slumped to the ground.

  Diego grabbed the pistol from the waist of the man’s jeans and handed it to Liliana, maneuvering her fingers around the handle before leading them out into the dimly lit hallway. Technicolor silhouettes played along the walls accompanied by the electronic whine of a television pulsing in and out of static. Diego took a step forward, testing the floorboards, waiting for someone to hear them. But as they peered around the corner and examined the bare room they spotted someone in front of the television, legs sprawled out in front of a metal fold out chair—the metal seat and hinges squealing every time he took a breath. His head was slumped onto his left shoulder and he looked as though her were sleeping but they couldn’t be sure.

  Liliana felt Diego reach back for her hand, his fingers slipping across the cold barrel instead and she reached for his forearm. She squeezed him, once, sweating fingers slick against his skin, before reinforcing her grip on the gun and following him into the room. They tread silently on the balls of their feet, though the sounds tearing from the small television ricocheted around the room. As they neared the door, a tremor crawled down Liliana’s arms, starting in her elbows and settling in her fingers fighting for a tighter grip. She kept her eyes on the man, trying not to even blink as she waited for him to stir, to see them, to…Diego’s foot sunk into a warped floorboard just as the audio from the television reached a manufactured pause and a deep moan echoed off of the walls. The man in the chair suddenly choked on the breath he was taking and jerked from his chair. The gun fired, once, then twice. Liliana dangled it by the trigger handle from her pointer finger, shaking as Diego took hold of it before it could fall to the floor. The man slid to the ground, screaming, as the two of them ran for the door.

  The screen slammed shut behind them as they ran down the steps, voices—not just the man’s Liliana had shot, but two maybe three others trailing after them. They ran into the empty field with no moonlight to guide them, each step sinking them deeper into the cold wet ground. They waded through a marsh of thick leaves, tripping on the ones whose roots were too shallow and hadn’t managed to cleave tightly enough to the moist soil. When their eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, a stretch of low mounds and marsh was all that was revealed, farmland freshly tilled with new life. Liliana, still running, looked back at the house that had slid so far into the horizon that only the roof was still visible and almost lost her footing before Diego pulled her up by the arm. They cut through the night, so hushed that not even the wind whistled through and Liliana was afraid the sound of their breathing would lead their captors to them. She tried to breathe only through her nose, inhaling the carpet of vegetation passing beneath their feet, but it made her chest ache.

  She could feel her body starting to slow down, her arms and legs still stiff from the ropes and that cold place on the floor and their hands on her. A slow burning started in her knees and spread to her calves but she couldn’t stop. The low rumble of an engine shuddered to life behind them and then two tiny sparks manifested at the edge of the field, the glow of their headlights swelling as the truck plowed toward them.

  “Where…” Liliana breathed.

  “Shit. Shit, I don’t know.”

  Diego grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and suddenly the ground gave way, something cold and dank slipping into their shoes and passed their knees.

  “What is this?”

  “Get down.”

  They both slipped onto their stomachs between two rows of tall cotton plants, the shallow pit spilling over their limbs and into their clothes as they let themselves sink.

  “Cover your face,” Diego whispered as he pressed his muddy hands to his face.

  She did the same, the cold pricking at her skin as they both lay back, dissolved into the earth. They could hear the truck raging through the field and Liliana searched for Diego’s hand beneath the muck, catching the hem of his shirt instead as she closed her eyes. She shuddered there as the truck approached, so close that she could hear each revolution of the tires and even with her eyes closed she could feel the sting of the headlights as they crept over them. And then, she couldn’t help it, she blinked—eyes careful as they peeled into slits. She peered passed the thick cotton plants hanging over them and all she could see was light. But when she was finally able to make out the shapes of the headlights, the orange glow subdued, she noticed there was a large crack that ran along the glass surface of one of them; it was deep and shaped like an F.

  The sound of the engine seemed to hover just a few yards away from them, so close they could feel the hum of the truck vibrating from the ground beneath them. For a moment the light seemed to swell until they were draped in it completely but then the truck rolled forward, slowly, taking the light with it, until they were lying in darkness again.

  Half an hour passed and Liliana’s limbs were growing numb from the cold, though the rest of her senses were still on high alert, waiting for the harsh jostle of the truck bed to come springing past them again. She finally began to wiggle the tips of her fingers before inspiring motion in the rest of her body—she unhinged her jaw and took a few deep breaths through her mouth before bending her elbows and stretching her ankles and the arches of her feet until she was warm again. Then she watched as Diego drew himself up on his elbow, his eyes tracing the outline of every foreign shape.

  “We have to get somewhere safe before the sun comes up,” he said.

  He rose to his feet, the mud tugging at him as he climbed out of the pit. Liliana climbed out after him, her hands immediately finding her face as she tried to peel the mud from her cheeks. But then Diego took her wrist, stopping her.

  “No,” he said, “leave it. Just in case.”

  They wound through the now empty field, using the dark gravel road in the distance as their guide. They came upon a small farmhouse on their way, the stout silhouette glowing like a beacon and Liliana wanted to stop but she knew they weren’t far enough yet and who knew if there was someone living in that house, and if there was, who knew if they would even help them. It was too dangerous. Though even in the dark she could see the plum colored swelling on her bare feet—her sandals abandoned in the back of their captors’ car. Diego follo
wed her eyes, settling on the dark shadows around her ankles and took off his boots and then his socks before rolling them onto Liliana’s feet. The heat slipped over her skin and she wanted to stop, to sit, and close her eyes but just as her body was ready to collapse the outskirts of a town sprung up in the distance and faintly glowing signs popped in the darkness like a trail of stars.

  “We need to find a motel or some place to get cleaned up,” Diego said.

  “Do you think that’s safe? Someone could see us.”

  “I don’t know. But it would be more dangerous to stay outside all night.”

  “Well, who’s going to give us a room looking like this?”

  “Trust me, these motel owners will do anything for an American tourist.”

  “Let me guess, that’s going to be me?”

  Liliana stood behind Diego with her face down, as he negotiated with the motel manager. The room was small and dark save for a small television set buzzing in the corner. A nude woman flashed on the screen and Liliana shifted her gaze. A tall plastic plant sat to the corner of the door and there were photos lining one of the walls of the manager with a handful of different local celebrities. The man himself was wearing a light blue bowling shirt and he had a long mustache that drooped at the ends, the hairs slipping into his mouth as he spoke. He glared at them, silent, as Diego asked for a room—examining their clothes and the mess they’d left along the linoleum floor leading to the front desk. But there was no trace of shock in those dark grey eyes, only mild annoyance. That is until Diego handed him a matted roll of bills through an oval opening in the plastic wall that separated them and then he clanked a brass key down on the counter.

  “Are there phones in the rooms?” Diego asked.

  “One phone,” the man grunted as he nodded over his shoulder. “It’s out. You can come back in the morning.”

  “Do you know if anywhere else is open? Maybe there’s a payphone nearby,” Liliana said.