Esperanza

by Trish J. MacGregor

  Ben’s expression tightened, she could almost smell the fear that rolled off him. “Yes. We’re keeping tabs on them. We have brujos in Guayaquil who are looking for the woman who started the blog. But so far we haven’t located her. It’s difficult to know how well organized they are, but they seem to be planning something.”

  “If twenty thousand humans armed with flamethrowers descended on Esperanza, Ben, we would face extinction.”

  Ben flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. “All the more reason to do things my way, Nica.”

  His way was to turn the tribe loose on Esperanza and every village and town north of the Río Palo, seize every resident, and once and for all turn Esperanza into a city of brujos. “The chasers would intervene.”

  “They haven’t intervened since we began seizing people here ten years ago. I don’t think there’re enough of them to fight us. The whole playing field is different than it was during the last battle for Esperanza, Nica. We outnumber them. We’ve evolved beyond anything they ever imagined five centuries ago. If they were going to intervene, they would have done it by now.”

  “Maybe the appearance of two transitionals is the first step in some new grand plan they have for defeating us.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t have any answers. But the chasers were up to something, this liberation group disturbed her, and the appearance of the transitionals frightened her. She suddenly felt threatened from all sides and wasn’t sure what to do, which way to turn.

  Ben opened the Mercedes up wide. It tore across the barren land, tires kicking up dirt and dried brush, mile after mile of flatness until the twin peaks appeared beneath a sagging gray sky, their bases ringed by a thick, dark fog. Home, she thought, and felt depressed by the thought.

  After the chasers had crushed the brujos in the battle five centuries ago, many of them had sought release from their existence. The chasers swept in and supposedly guided these brujos to other realms within the afterlife. Dominica still wasn’t sure what that meant. What other realms? The only realm she knew of was this one. The only certainty was that the battle had left most brujos, Dominica among them, with a deepening hatred toward the chasers and a greater hunger for physical life.

  Many brujos had left Ecuador after that battle and journeyed out across the globe. They began to form tribes and learned how to seize bodies for physical pleasure or to familiarize themselves with the world as it marched through time.

  Twenty years ago, she and Ben had returned to this barren valley, which was nearly as ugly as it was now, a flat wasteland. They had summoned brujos from every corner of the world, and those who had answered the call had become part of her tribe. Through their collective intentions and desires, they had erected twin peaks that rose a mile high. Then they had created their world inside of it. None of it was real in the physical sense. It was akin to a mirage, invisible to humans. But it was from here, their home base, that they had ventured for the next decade, spreading throughout South America, seizing bodies here and there. She’d always believed they hadn’t seized enough bodies in one place to attract the attention of the chasers. But apparently they’d seized a sufficient number so that through the miracle of the Internet, victims’ families and friends had coalesced around a single purpose: to annihilate the brujos and take back Esperanza.

  The Mercedes plunged into the fog. Ben reached up to the remote control device clipped to the visor, pressed it, and the door in the mountain slid open. He drove in, honked twice, and the door shut, sealing them within. Lights winked on in the cavern, simulating daylight in a parking lot anywhere in America or Europe. Since physical life was so coveted, great care had been taken to create an atmosphere that mimicked it. Even the other cars parked here reflected it faithfully—hybrids, trucks, sedans, SUVs, Jeeps, a couple of Smart Cars, even some electric cars. Above this parking garage were the accouterments that reflected physical life: downtowns, shops, restaurants, cafés, small businesses.

  She and Ben took the elevator to the third floor and caught a train downtown to their town house. En route, she put out a call to Rafael and Pearl, two loyal members of her tribe. They were waiting on the platform when the train pulled into the station.

  Because of their physical histories, their afterlife forms were predictable—Rafael as a black Clark Gable to Pearl’s pristine white Vivien Leigh. They had died in the United States in the early 1960s, a black man and a white woman in the heavily segregated South, when blacks and whites had their own restrooms, restaurants, and seats on the bus. Their relationship had threatened the status quo in their backwater Alabama town—he had been hung by the KKK, she had killed herself. Their rage had brought them to Dominica’s tribe. They rarely indulged in sexual excursions like she and Ben and other members did. They were just happy to be together and looked ahead to the big picture. A city of brujos.

  Hugs all around, brujos were always affectionate. “There’re rumors,” Rafael said as the four of them headed toward the sidewalk below. “Are they true?”

  “Yes,” Dominica said.

  Pearl emitted a delighted squeal, hooked her arm through Rafael’s, and did a funny little jig there on the sidewalk, in the shadow of their phony buildings, on the phony concrete sidewalks of their phony goddamn world. And Rafael, usually so reserved and serious, burst out laughing and indulged her, dancing along with her.

  “But they can’t be seized,” Ben said. “They’re protected.”

  Elation hissed out of Rafael and Pearl like gas from a balloon. “How . . . can that be?” Pearl stammered.

  “Ridiculous,” Rafael added. “Unprecedented.”

  “But true.” Dominica proceeded to explain what she knew, suspected, hoped, and needed to know.

  By then, they were inside the town house she and Ben shared, an ultramodern environment—movable walls, hardwood floors, electronically controlled blinds, breathtaking views of lakes and volcanic peaks, parks and mysterious neighborhoods, all of it as phony as everything else that surrounded her. Phony but comforting. She and Ben even had several dogs and cats and birds, abused in physical life and pissed by the hand that had been dealt to them. Here, they were protected and loved. The animals changed as their understanding of brujo dynamics changed, and moved on, so right now they were down to one of each. A golden retriever puppy, a dusky conure, a white Persian. They slept together, ate together, and by tomorrow, one of them might be gone—to where? She had no idea. Now wasn’t the time to think about who went where.

  They gathered in the front room, talking quietly while Dominica did her phony hostess routine, cheese and crackers, sliced celery and a dip, a red Chilean wine, slices of fresh mango, papaya, kiwi. They conjured only the best, she and her tribe.

  “If we can’t take them, what’s the point?” Pearl was saying when Dominica joined them with the goodies.

  “We need information,” Dominica told them, and brought them up to speed. “What do Ed Granger and Sara Wells know? Who is Charlie? How did Manuel Ortega know about the transitionals? Who instructed him to pick them up at the bodega? Is he part of this liberation movement? Why isn’t he afraid of us? He had the audacity to laugh at me, to actually tell me he wasn’t someone I wanted to cross. Can you imagine?”

  Rafael sat forward, frowning. “We know about this liberation group. But their blog entries are coded, secretive, rather obscure at times. It’s hard to tell how many there are, what their plans are. But we need to pay closer attention to their activities.”

  “I think they’re potential threats,” Pearl said. “If a group like this was large enough and swept into Esperanza with flamethrowers, when we were in virtual forms or using bodies, that would be the end of us. Or we would have to flee Esperanza.”

  “Never an option,” Ben said. “We can’t assume virtual forms anywhere else. We’re powerless elsewhere.”

  Dominica patted the air with her hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Right now, you two should shadow Ed Granger and S
ara Wells. Ben and I will follow the transitionals and see what we can find out about Manuel and this mystery man, Charlie.”

  “And that’s it?” Rafael looked horrified. “That’s the fucking plan?”

  “You have a better plan?” she shot back.

  “Yes. We sweep into Esperanza and take everyone.” He laughed. “Imagine the chaos.”

  “That would bring out the chasers, Rafael. We would have flat-out war.”

  “Maybe it’s time for war. Why’re you afraid of them, Nica? The chasers haven’t done anything since the first attacks started ten years ago. They’re cowards, just like the locals. We have successfully intimidated them. Fear and terror work.”

  “And by seizing everyone,” Pearl went on, “maybe we would put a stop to any plan this so-called liberation group has.”

  “The chasers aren’t cowards, but I feel there’s something else going on, some grand scheme they’ve concocted,” Dominica said. “It’s wiser to move cautiously now than to be reckless and lose Esperanza for good.”

  Rafael nodded thoughtfully. “Look, Pearl and I are with you and Ben. But if we can’t find answers and still can’t take the transitionals, then I say we seize the initiative and launch our offensive by attacking en masse and taking the city.”

  “Exactly,” Ben agreed.

  Dominica disliked the direction in which this conversation was moving. Rafael and Pearl were well liked among her tribe and could easily win backing by the majority. It angered her that Ben sided with them. She was only as powerful as the brujos she commanded and in the event of a coup within her own tribe, she could easily find herself sidelined. Such a drastic possibility prompted her to make a radical suggestion.

  “If the chasers are the ones who allowed these transitionals into the city, then we can be sure it wasn’t to benefit us. So you’re right about one thing, Rafael. It’s time we launched an offensive. I think we should kill the transitionals.”

  “How can we kill them if we can’t seize them?” Pearl asked.

  “We tell them they’re both in comas, that they’re nearly dead. That should scare them out of here. We follow them back to their bodies, seize the nearest people, force those people to kill them. This will effectively neutralize whatever plans the chasers have and send a direct message that they can’t fuck around with us.”

  For moments, none of them said anything. Then Rafael’s face lit up like a Halloween pumpkin. “It’s brilliant. And once they’re dead and the chasers are off balance, we move fast and attack Esperanza.”

  She resented Rafael for attempting to call the shots. But she didn’t call him on it. Let him think what he wanted. “We work in pairs,” she said, and explained the rest of her new plan.

  Seven

  Dr. Paco Faraday swept into the cottage with Ed Granger and pumped Ian’s arm as if he intended to draw water. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ritter. Ed mentioned you suffered a mishap, so if you could sit over here by the light, I’ll take a look at it.”

  “What took you so long to get here?” Ian asked. “Ed said he called you an hour ago.”

  “The sorry roads, landslides, herds of llamas. Hey, this is Ecuador. I’m from Chile, where we don’t have these kinds of problems unless there’s been an earthquake.”

  Paco reminded Ian of a professor in his department, a man so uncomfortable with silence that he never shut up. Tall and thin, with a fussy mouth and thick, dark hair combed back dramatically from his forehead, Paco moved the same way he spoke, rapidly, with a staccato rhythm. While he examined the gash at Ian’s temple, he chattered on about how backward Ecuador was in the high mountain areas, how the abject poverty kept the area from fully developing. “Looks deep, Mr. Ritter. It’ll take four or five stitches, but that should have you nearly as good as new.”

  “Just do it,” Ian said. “Make it stop bleeding.”

  “Of course he’ll do it, mate,” said Granger, pacing, sweating, visibly nervous, like a man who either had plenty at stake—or plenty to hide. “That’s his job.”

  Why was Granger still here, hovering, offering his two cents? “Ed, I appreciate your bringing Dr. Faraday to the cottage, but you really don’t have to hang around.”

  “I don’t mind, mate. I feel responsible for what happened to you. Where’s Tess?”

  “She went into town.” To find us a way out of here.

  The doctor injected something cold in the skin right around the gash. A jab here, there, four in all. “Nomad went with her?” Paco asked.

  “Nomad left with her. Beyond that, I don’t know.” Ian noticed a perceptible change in Granger’s expression. “Why?”

  “It’s smart that she took Nomad,” Paco said. “But I’m sure Ed warned you both about not traveling too far outside of Esperanza.”

  “You bet I did,” Granger piped in.

  “After one of Ed’s men tackled me in the fog, Tess and I decided to look for other accommodations.”

  Paco’s mouth tightened with what Ian sensed was fury. “Jesus, Ed, your posse needs to calm down or you’re going to be losing business left and right. This kind of shit isn’t exactly great for tourism.”

  “They attacked the cottage,” Granger snapped. “We had to go after them.”

  “And trample a guest as well,” Paco remarked dryly. “What an excellent business practice.”

  “I hope our bill is ready, Mr. Granger,” said Ian.

  Granger glared at Paco for another moment, then forced a smile. “I’ll head up to my office and get it done now. Again, I apologize for what happened.”

  He slammed the door on the way out, eliciting an expression of disgust from Paco. “They’re zealots when it comes to these brujos. Does it feel numb yet?”

  “Very.”

  “If you feel pain at any point, just holler and I’ll stick you again.”

  As Paco stitched, Ian felt only greater anxiety about getting out of here, finding Tess, and joining her in their exit from Esperanza. “Where’s the nearest bus station, Dr. Faraday?”

  “In the old town. But only local buses are running until the day after tomorrow. The long-distance buses never run on Sundays and Mondays. And they closed the airport years ago. It’s too risky flying into Esperanza because of the way it’s situated in these mountains. We’re quite isolated here, really. So if you’re looking to get to Quito, you’ll have to hire a driver.”

  A driver it would be. “What’s the story with these brujos, Dr. Faraday?”

  “Eerie fucks, that’s the story. You don’t want to mess with them.”

  “But what the hell are they?”

  He paused in his stitching and regarded Ian with a kind of incredulity that hinted at a massive breakdown in communication somewhere. “You mean, no one’s told you?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve heard different theories and opinions.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Well, then, let me provide you with the facts, Mr. Ritter. Brujos are hungry ghosts, spirits who are stuck. They know they’re dead, but for whatever reason they can’t seem to move into any other afterworld realm. Their ultimate goal is to become human again, to live in the physical world, and they do this by seizing humans and living out their mortal lives. When they do this, they take over completely—your brain, limbs, voice, memories, personality. When a full life isn’t possible, they seize bodies to use for sex, to explore physical life. They often move within the fog, manipulating it, and suddenly, you’re surrounded by brujos. That’s what happened to you and Tess in the field.”

  Ian burst out laughing. “C’mon, Dr. Faraday. Ghosts? Possession? Those brujos outside of town looked as solid as you do.”

  “Anywhere north of the Río Palo, they can assume a human form for a short time, a kind of virtual form. That’s what you saw. They’re real in the sense that they look, speak, and act like humans and can interact with physical matter. But they’re as ephemeral as smoke. Usually, they can’t hold these forms very long. I’m shocked that Ed didn’t tell you any of this.”


  “It wouldn’t matter if he had. I don’t believe in ghosts, hungry or otherwise.”

  “I know how preposterous it sounds. But if you look across various cultures, you find this belief is prevalent. In my own country, specifically on the island of Chiloé, there’s a widespread belief in a different kind of brujo—the ghost ship Caleuche, allegedly crewed by men in black who come ashore at certain times of the month and abduct humans. In Brazil, there’s the Bag Man, a hobo who collects disobedient children to sell. In Bulgaria, the Torbalan kidnaps children if they misbehave. In your own country, the UFO phenomenon with its abductions and men in black is similar. Ghosts are endemic to nearly every culture.”

  “If everything you say is true and these brujos are destroying life in Esperanza, why don’t you leave?”

  Paco dabbed something cool on his suturing job and Ian clearly recognized sadness and resignation in his eyes. “Esperanza is my home.”

  “As Hitler was rising to power, there were people who saw what was going on and fled their countries.”

  “In this area, many of those who could flee have done so.”

  The way he phrased it sounded odd, too careful. “What’s that mean? Those who could flee . . . You could leave, you’re not handicapped.”

  He resumed his stitching. “In a way, I am handicapped. Many here are.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How old do you think I am, Mr. Ritter?”

  “Late thirties, early forties.”

  He finished stitching and pressed a bandage over the sutured gash. “I arrived in Esperanza on my thirty-ninth birthday. And that was forty-two years ago.”

  What the fuck. “You’re eighty-one? But . . . that’s impossible.”

  “People who live north of Río Palo don’t age. Or they age very slowly. If I left this area, it would be only a matter of hours before I would look every second of my real age. There are others who are much older and would turn to dust. That’s why so many of us haven’t left. We can’t. When I came here, Mr. Ritter, it was as a gift to myself. I had been diagnosed with leukemia and given three months to live and I wanted to enjoy whatever time I had left. Within a week of my arrival, all my symptoms were gone. I was cured.”