He pointed the gun at Miguel. “Where’s Elena?”
“I don’t know. She ran away, I think.”
José said, “Then we’d better find her.”
* * * * *
Elena came to, lying sprawled in the rubble at the back of the Staircase pyramid. Rain pattered on her face and cooled the heat and swelling of her cheek. She opened one eye and looked into the trees overhead. They moved fitfully in the wind, but it was far from the ferocious fury of the night before. She was very, very tired. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep right there on the hard rubble. Something nagged at her consciousness as she drifted. Weird figures and shapes swirled around in her mind. She wanted to sleep. But there was something she had to do. There was something she had to do, if she could just remember.
She struggled to sit up. Sharp rocks bit into her back and legs. She winced and eased into a sitting position. Then she remembered. Miguel had escaped, and Jorge had crashed to the bottom of the stairs. She half crawled the few feet to the top of the pyramid and peered over the rocks.
Jorge lay at the bottom, not moving. To her surprise, a man was standing over him. Elena ducked down so she couldn’t be seen. Who was he? She had no idea whose side he was on.
One thing was certain -- she wasn’t going to try to figure it out. Chances were it was one of Jorge’s friends come to help him. She would head back to town on the main road. Maybe someone would be out now that the hurricane was weakening, and they would help her.
She didn’t want to be seen while she was in the Park, so she eased out of the rubble, taking care not to make a sound. The best way to stay hidden was to go around the outside perimeter of the great plaza. Trees hung over the stone step structures that formed the outer walls. Staying hidden would be easier. She didn’t want to chance walking out into the open courtyard dotted with stelae and debris. Her path would be in the opposite direction from the jungle path.
Then she heard something that didn’t fit. Were there voices?
Crouching behind the half-ruined wall adjoining the rubble, she listened but couldn’t tell from what direction the sound was coming. She peeked over the top of the wall, trying to see. The only sound was the wind in the trees, and water dripping everywhere.
She was sure she heard voices. She listened. Maybe it was only her imagination.
From her high perch she gazed over the valley beyond the ruins. An angry brown slash scoured its way through the greenness of the jungle. The river had spread far out of its banks and was more like a huge lake than a river. Elena cursed her luck. It flowed under the road back to town. She might not be able to get across. She might not be able to find help, if she went this way.
She leaned her head against the hard stone of the wall. Exhaustion dogged her every thought. Every cell in her body ached. Even thinking was painful.
A sound like a gunshot cracked through the stillness. Then a scream.
She had to get out of there.
* * * * *
Keeping an eye on Paco, José forced Dominic and Miguel to walk within the shelter of the trees bordering the clearing. Jorge was either dead or beyond repair because Paco got up and walked toward the jungle path where he expected to find Dominic and Miguel waiting. José motioned them up the path to the top of the Temple of Inscriptions, up the path where the murder had taken place. Tall, skinny trees and brush provided cover. They made it to the top where they could look out over the great plaza, the very spot Elena was headed the day she discovered the body.
Jorge’s body lay at the bottom of the Hieroglyphic Staircase. No one else was in sight. Dominic searched every available space for some sign of Elena. She might blend in easily with the waterlogged landscape. José stood slightly behind him. Miguel clutched Dominic’s hand.
José said, “Do you see her? I don’t. We’ll go to the back of the Staircase pyramid and search there.”
He motioned with the gun for Miguel to lead the way. Miguel stepped up three stairs that lead to the walkway between the two pyramids. The corridor stretched between the Temple of Inscriptions and the Staircase pyramid. To the left of the path vertical walls joined the two structures. Along the top where they walked was a stone path that served as a connecting link along the top of the walls.
Dominic followed Miguel, heavy footed and discouraged. He didn’t want to find Elena only to have her used by this crooked policeman. He hoped she had run far away. His bargain with God was not working out. There were too many obstacles. He was afraid he’d never see Elena alive again. There were too many guns involved, too many irrational people in possession of guns.
He looked up to see where they were heading and saw movement ahead on the path where a low wall jutted out. Just a flash of something. He wiped his forearm across his eyes to clear his vision. Things were blurred by rain and the unhappy wind that chased around the pyramids. He continued to watch the place where he thought he had seen something, trying to be discreet so José wouldn’t notice. If they found Elena and the hiding place, what would happen then?
He considered their alternatives. He had a gun in the backpack slung over his shoulder, but the gun was useless since he couldn’t access it. On the other hand, he was physically bigger than José. The smaller man stood between them and freedom. The image of Jorge’s body at the base of the Staircase flashed across his mind. Jorge had fallen. The same ugly fate might await José. If he could push José over the side, it was a long way down that stone wall. He’d have to overpower him and soon. Dominic stopped.
“What now? Do you see her?” asked José.
“I thought I saw something move over there,” said Dominic. He pointed in the direction of the movement he had seen. “Let’s walk over and see. Maybe it’s Elena. Maybe she’s hurt.”
José stretched his neck, stepping closer to Dominic, squinting into the distance. Where Dominic stopped, the path ran perilously close to the edge of the wall. José was on his left closest to the edge.
“Where? I don’t see anything,” said José. He glanced around maybe thinking Paco might be close by.
“There. I saw something behind that stone wall.”
Dominic raised his left arm to point, and in the same motion he shoved his elbow into the side of José’s head with all the force he could garner. Bone connected with bone. José tilted to the left, his right arm with the gun going up. A loud retort carried over the Park as the gun went off into the air. Dominic swiveled and, as the policeman fell backward toward the edge, brought his leg up into José’s chest.
José tried to catch Dominic’s foot but missed as his arms flailed wildly into nothing but air. The gun dropped in his struggle to gain his balance. He lost the struggle and pitched sideways down the steep wall, his scream piercing the air.
Dominic had fallen on his side at the edge of the wall, narrowly missing going over the edge himself. He pulled back from the precipice, crawling on hands and knees until he was back on the path. Miguel helped Dominic stand, brushing twigs and dirt from his clothes.
“Fantastico.” said Miguel. A huge grin spread across his face, and he gave two thumbs up.
Dominic hooked his fingers on his hips, trying to catch his breath, staring at the ground, oblivious to Miguel and his surroundings. He had never tried to harm someone before, and his capacity for violence shocked him. He had pushed a man to his death. Kill or be killed, the law of the jungle. He held onto Miguel’s shoulder and shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. They had to find Elena. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted, “Elena, where are you? It’s Dominic. Where are you?”
He listened and Miguel did, too, both looking around the Park from their vantage point high above it. The sound of footsteps running caught Dominic’s ear, and he turned to see Paco come up the path from below.
“What happened?” Paco asked.
Dominic pointed to the body of José sprawled below. “He had a gun on us. I pushed him.”
Paco nodded. “I’ve had my doubts about him but couldn’t fi
nd any concrete evidence. He’ll wait. Let’s look for Elena.”
“She may have gone up over the pyramid like I did,” said Miguel.
Dominic said, “I saw movement over there. Let’s look.”
All three shouted Elena’s name, over and over. The stones of the pyramids echoed with the sound. Dominic led the way to the wall where he saw the flash of movement. Maybe he had dreamed it. Maybe she had already left the Park.
Then he saw motion in the great plaza far below.
A slim figure moved from the shadow of a stone structure to the open space of the plaza, limping around fallen tree limbs and toppled stones.
Elena waved and shouted his name.
His prayers had been answered. His request granted.
“Dominic,” she said. “Here I am.”
His hand high over his head, he waved back.
And then she collapsed onto the ground.
Nineteen
Dominic sat at the kitchen table with a beer and a bag of potato chips, trying to fill the giant cavern in his stomach. His bare feet rested in a puddle of water, one of many on the floor in his house on Loma Verde Street.
The house had survived. But water had seeped through every aperture in the place. The journey back from the Hieroglyphic Staircase had taken the better part of the day. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten from the top of the pyramid to where Elena had collapsed. As he’d knelt by her side, feeling for pulse, checking her injuries, Elena had opened her eyes.
“Dominic,” she said.
He kissed her forehead. “You’re safe, dear Elena.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “I know. You’re here.”
Paco reported that Jorge and José were both dead. The realization that he had caused someone’s demise sobered Dominic. But seeing how badly Elena was hurt took away any sympathy he might have felt for the dead men. He made Elena as comfortable as possible with what little he had in his backpack – acetaminophen tablets, three bars of chocolate split between the four of them, and one bottle of water. Miguel was physically unharmed, but he stayed pressed to Dominic, needing a reassuring touch. They rested, Elena at first too weak to walk the jungle trail, the only alternative open to town. Her second wind came after it finally sank in that the ordeal was over.
When he heard the bathroom door open, he called, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Elena appeared in the doorway in a clean white T-shirt and pair of drawstring shorts. They were the only things he could find in his wardrobe that came close to fitting.
She eased into the chair across from him. Her damp hair fanned over her shoulders.
“Hi,” she said.
He smiled and held up his bottle. “Want a warm beer?”
“I’d love one. Got anything to eat? My appetite is coming on like a hurricane.”
He squeezed her hand. “Since the power is still out, we’d better finish whatever is edible in the icebox. It won’t keep.”
He pulled a beer from the fridge, opened it and sat it before her on the table.
He couldn’t resist touching her hair. He brushed the back of his fingers across her puffy cheek.
“Does it hurt much?”
She shook her head. “No, it feels numb. Do you have any ice?”
Dominic opened the freezer and found tiny pieces in the ice tray. He put them in a paper towel and handed them to her.
“Here, this is all there is, but maybe it will help.”
“Thanks.” She placed the cool compress against her eye. “It’s not being able to see out of this eye that is the worst.”
He touched her hair again to confirm she wasn’t a dream.
“I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
“I’m glad it’s over. It is over, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I promise you it is.” He caressed her shoulder. The ordeal was over, but he wasn’t sure about the nightmares.
“Let’s get you something to eat.”
He warmed beans and tortillas on the gas stove and fixed a plate for each with salsa picante and slices of cheese on the side.
“A feast,” she said, happily. She took a careful bite of cheese. “Ow, it hurts to chew.”
“Take it easy,” he said, sitting at the table across from her.
“Have any butter for the tortillas?”
He laughed and fetched some from the butter-keep on the counter by the stove.
“Mmm,” she said. “Tortillas and butter, the best.”
Dominic fixed coffee after they finished.
“Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked with a hopeful raise of her eyebrows.
“No, darling, I do not.”
She sighed. “Too bad, I could use one right now.”
Dominic lit the votive candle on the refrigerator alter to the Virgin of Suyapa. He said a little prayer of thanksgiving to the Virgin for Elena’s safe deliverance. He had not forgotten his bargain with God. Elena was safe. He would again become a priest in the Episcopal Church. He always kept a bargain.
He retrieved a candelabrum from the dining room, put it on the kitchen table, and lit the candles. The gloom of the evening vanished in the soft glow of candlelight.
“When do you think the power will come back?” asked Elena.
“Might be a while. That was a pretty bad storm.”
“Is Miguel asleep?”
“Yes. He’s as exhausted as we are. Why don’t you lie down on my bed in Miguel’s room?”
“Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“The couch.” He smiled. “I don’t mind.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to take her into his arms and hug and kiss her into oblivion. But he didn’t move. She was vulnerable. And so was he. Lord only knew where that might lead.
So they held hands in the silence of the candlelight, each with their own thoughts.
“I think someone’s knocking at the door,” said Elena.
He listened and heard the rapping.
When he opened the door a breath of warm, humid air pushed in. The shapes of Felicia and Susanna loomed in the darkness.
“Thank heaven, you’re all right,” said Susanna. “Elena? Do you know where Elena is?”
“She’s here. Come in. She’s had a terrible ordeal.”
The two women entered both looking like fashion statements, not like they had weathered a major hurricane in a small out-of-the-way Honduran town. Elena appeared in the doorway to the living room in the big T-shirt and drooping shorts.
Susanna rushed over and hugged her. “How glad I am you’re all right.”
Elena tried to laugh, but it came out as a wince. “You look like you were at a party instead of a hurricane.”
In the dimness of the room, Susanna hadn’t noticed Elena’s face, but now that she was closer, she looked with horror on her daughter’s injury.
“What happened to you?” her mother asked. “Did something hit you in this storm? Why were you outside?”
Elena said, “Too many questions at one time. Come into the kitchen. We have candles there. I’ll tell you the story.”
Over coffee and candlelight Elena told her story with many exclamations and interruptions by Susanna.
“You mean it was that man I befriended, Jorge, who did this to you?” asked Susanna. Her face had grown paler and paler, the worse the story got.
Elena reached out and took her mother’s hand.
“It’s over now,” Elena said. “The man is dead. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
Susanna’s eyes filled. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I had no idea or I would never have encouraged his friendship. I am so sorry, dear.” She held Elena’s hand. “Is there anything I can do for you? Why don’t you come back to the hotel? I have plenty of clothes. They have an emergency generator. The meals are good. The hotel itself sustained very little damage.”
“Amazing,” said Elena. “Only my mother could luck out in a hurricane. Thanks, but I have
some things at the medical clinic to retrieve.”
Dominic didn’t like the way Susanna and Felicia exchanged glances. He braced himself.
“The clinic roof is gone,” said Susanna. “Everything is soaked and blown about inside.”
Dominic groaned. Months of work blown away.
“Oh, Dominic, I’m sorry,” said Elena. “You put so much work into the clinic.
Felicia, who had remained quiet, spoke up. “I think the two of you should come to the hotel with us.”
“Well, there’s Miguel, too,” said Dominic. “He’s asleep. I’ll stay here with him. But, Elena, I encourage you to return to the hotel with your mother. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
Elena shook her head. Her eyes were puffy and heavy lidded. “I can’t walk that far. Not after today. What I really want is sleep. If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer of the bed in Miguel’s room.”
She rose and kissed her mother. “We’ll talk in the morning.” Saying goodnight to all of them, she slipped from the room.
“What an ordeal she’s been through,” said Felicia, seeming as distressed as any of them. “I had no idea all this was happening right here in Copan Ruinas.”
Dominic lowered his voice. “Inspector Connie Lascano is coming tomorrow to question Elena. There’s a bunch of people in this ring. Jorge and José were just two of the culprits. Paco, who brought us back, is the good cop. Apparently, he’s one of the few in the department. That’s why Connie was sent here -- to clean up the police department and catch the smugglers. She still doesn’t have the ring leaders.”
“This is really terrible,” Susanna said. “Elena’s been through too much. I’m taking her home on the next available plane.” She stopped to think. “But when will that be?”
* * * * *
In the morning Connie Lascano stopped by as Dominic was fixing breakfast for Miguel. Elena had not yet risen, and he had no intention of disturbing her.
He had collapsed on the couch after Susanna and Felicia left, rising at first light to sweep water across the terrazzo floors and out the door. Miguel found him in the kitchen making coffee. Despite everything the youngster looked better with a decent night’s sleep. His complexion was rosy and his eyes bright and clear. He was hungry, of course.
Exotic #02 - The Hieroglyphic Staircase Page 20
