by Willow Rose
But the stranger didn’t know. He kept yelling at Hector. And that was a bad idea. That was a very bad idea. Noah could vividly picture how Hector was now grinding his teeth in anger, waiting for the right moment to lash out.
“What do you want?” Hector asked. “Why have you come?”
“I want the kid,” the stranger said. “Where is he?”
Noah gasped. It could only be him they were talking about, couldn’t it? Had the stranger come to get him? Would he get out of here?
“I don’t know where he is,” Hector said.
“You’re lying. I know you did it. I know you took him and the two others as well. ‘Cause that’s just how sick you are. And then you made sure it was all blamed on me.”
Two others? Noah swallowed hard. There had been others? It wasn’t just him that was being punished, that was being kept like this?
Suddenly, Noah felt the tears well up in his eyes. He felt such anger towards Hector and what he had done. He was no longer afraid of what would happen. He removed his hands from his eyes, turned to face the door, and then slammed both his fists into it, while screaming at the top of his lungs:
“HEEEEEELP! I’M IN HERE!!! HEEEEELP ME!”
Chapter Seventy-Six
May 2015
I drove up in front of Swell about an hour and fifteen minutes later. The streets had been vacant, so I allowed myself to ignore the speed limits to get there faster. The rain was pouring heavily and the wind gusts pulled and tossed the car.
I assumed Hector Suarez had left town long ago, and didn’t understand why Vernon wanted me to meet me here. As suspected, the shop was closed. Shutters covered all the windows.
I looked at the shop through my windshield, shaking my head.
“There’s no one here,” I said. “Vernon tricked us.”
“Why would he do that?” Austin said.
“I don’t know. To get back at us.”
I was about to put the car into gear, when I spotted something parked up against the façade of the building.
It was a bike.
I knew from my mother that Vernon hadn’t bought a car, since he didn’t feel safe driving after all these years, and since he loved being outside feeling the fresh air on his face.
I sighed and put it in park. I looked at Austin. “I better go check to be sure.”
Austin smiled. He didn’t like the idea of leaving without being certain either. “Okay, Dad.”
“You stay here, alright?”
Austin nodded.
“I’ll leave the engine running, so you can listen to the radio. I’ll be right back, okay? Will you be okay alone out here?”
A thunder clap crackled through the air outside. I could tell Austin was terrified. He never liked thunderstorms, and these were some very severe ones.
I sighed, then opened the door and rushed out. I ran to the door and tried to look inside, but the glass was covered with shutters. I grabbed the handle and realized the door was open. I walked inside and closed the door behind me. The light was on inside the shop, which I found very odd. The lights kept going out, then coming back on. My clothes were soaking and dripping on the floor, leaving a small puddle beneath me. I felt my shoulder. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it still hurt like crazy when I moved my arm.
I heard voices coming from the back. I walked to the counter. The door was open behind it. I had never been into the back of Hector’s shop. That was where he shaped the boards. He never let anyone in there and always showed us the boards outside in the store.
“Hector?” I asked. “Vernon?”
The voices coming from behind the door were loud and drowned me out. I looked around me, then decided to pass the counter. I pushed the door open and was let into a small hallway with several doors on each side. There was a light coming out from behind one of the doors. I pushed it open.
“Hector?” I asked.
Then, I gasped. Inside the small office stood Vernon. He was holding a gun, pointing it at Hector. It wasn’t until I saw them really close to one another that I realized how much the two of them looked alike. Hector had long dreadlocks, making him appear different, but now I saw the similarity.
Behind another door in the room, I could hear the cries of what sounded like a little boy.
“What the hell is going on here?” I said and pulled my own gun.
Hector looked at me, then grinned. He looked at Vernon. “Go ahead,” he said. “I know you want to.”
He was right. Vernon pulled the trigger before I could stop him. Hector was shot right in the chest, then fell to the ground in a pool of blood.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
April 1980
Hector and Raul took turns steering the boat and keeping an eye on the passengers. They trusted no one. They had no weapon to defend themselves with if anyone came against them. All they could hope for was that they would leave them alone till they reached Florida, and then they would be someone else’s problem.
If only they could keep things calm for that long.
Many eyes were staring at them. The ocean seemed endless. There wasn’t a boat in sight. If someone threw them in the water, no one would lift an eyebrow. No one would be able to save them.
Hector started thinking about those swimming lessons he had thought about taking for so long while living in Florida. There was water everywhere, and everyone should be able to swim, his brother had told him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn, it really wasn’t. It was just…well, the timing just was never quite right. Now, he regretted it. Being able to swim would increase his chances of surviving in case he was thrown overboard like that poor guy had been earlier on the trip. At least he would be able to keep himself alive, maybe long enough for another boat to pick him up. At least he wouldn’t sink like a rock. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe he would die anyway.
Nightfall came upon them, and soon darkness surrounded the boat. It didn’t make Hector less uncomfortable. A guy was sitting on the deck right outside the wheelhouse, staring at him with this creepy smile on his face. He wasn’t very old, early twenties, maybe. But he had been badly beaten. His face was bruised, and so were his arms and legs. Hector could only imagine how he looked underneath his ripped T-shirt. The chill in his eyes said everything. It made Hector shiver in fear.
Raul was steering the boat when the young man later approached them. Hector’s heart was racing. Hector could spot light on the horizon and with relief in his heart realized they were getting closer to the shore. Unfortunately, so did the young man. Grinning from ear to ear, he walked inside the wheelhouse.
Hector walked towards him. “No one enters the wheelhouse,” he said in Spanish. “Those are the rules. Everyone stays outside. We’re almost on shore. You’ll be in Florida in less than an hour.”
The young man stared at Hector, still smiling from ear to ear. He was missing a few teeth. Hector wondered if they had been knocked out.
“You think I’m afraid of you?” he asked.
“Go back to where you were,” Hector said without answering. He knew very well this man wasn’t afraid of him.
And he was right. The man grabbed Hector by the throat and lifted him into the air without as much as a groan. Hector yelled for Raul, who let go of the wheel, then rushed to his rescue. Raul hit his fist into the man’s jaw, but the man barely moved. He was skinny, but he was strong. He was obviously used to taking a beating. Raul hit him again, this time in the stomach, but the man barely made a sound. He held Hector in the air, while Hector struggled for air. With the other hand, he punched Raul in the face so hard, Raul stumbled backwards, his eyes rolling back in his face. As he fell backwards, his head hit a sharp edge.
“Raul!” Hector exclaimed, gasping for air. But Raul didn’t move. He was lying still on the ground, blood running from his nose and the back of his head. Hector’s heart stopped. He felt a deep panic grow inside of him. He looked into the eyes of the man, while desperately holding on to his own life.
&
nbsp; “Tell me your name,” the man asked.
Hector barely had any air to speak. “Hector,” he whispered, in some hope that if he told the man what he wanted to know he might let him go. “Hector Suarez.”
Then he felt the man stick his hands inside of his jacket and pull out his passport and papers. The man laughed and showed Hector what he had taken from him.
“Now, I am Hector,” he said, while laughing. He let go of Hector and let him fall to the ground, where he lay coughing and gasping for air for a long time. The man took the steering wheel and soon after, docked the boat. Hector lay still, hoping the man would forget about him, now that he was finally at their destination. The man left, then came back before Hector dared to get up. He smiled from ear to ear, then bent down, grabbed Hector around the throat again, and squeezed so hard everything stopped inside of him. The last thing Hector thought about before he stopped breathing, was Isabella. He was certain he could hear her voice calling for him from the dock of the Miami Harbor.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
April 1980
She was calling his name.
“Paaapa?”
Isabella was running from boat to boat in the harbor, asking if they had seen her father, calling his name.
“Hector Suarez?” she yelled.
A man shook his head. So did another one and another one. Isabella kept running. She had been on one of the first boats out. She and her grandparents and her uncle had all made it to safety on the very first day of the boatlift. She had managed to contact her other uncles, who now lived up north in Central Florida, but they had told her that her father and Uncle Raul had travelled to Cuba to find her.
It had crushed her heart.
They had missed each other, and now Hector and Raul were back at the island looking for her. There was no way she could contact them and let them know she was already in Miami. So, all she could do was to approach every boat that docked at the harbor and ask if anyone had seen them or heard about them. This evening, ten more boats had come to the harbor. One was harboring more refugees than the others. She wondered how many were so full they never made it to the other side, and prayed her father and uncle at least would be among those who made it back. She was certain she would be able to find them, as long as they made it.
“Hector Suarez?” she asked a flock of people, who had just jumped off an old fishing boat. There seemed to be several hundred people on this one. How had all of them been able to fit into that old boat? It was a miracle it didn’t sink.
“Yes,” an old man suddenly said. “Hector Suarez.”
Isabella gasped. “You know him?”
The old man nodded.
“You have seen him?”
“Yes.” The old man pointed to the old fishing boat in front of her. “Hector Suarez,” he said again.
“Hector was on this boat?” Isabella asked.
The old man nodded. “Yes.”
She wanted to kiss him. Instead, she shook his small hand. “Thank you. Thank you!”
Isabella ran to the boat, elbowing her way through the crowd, yelling her father’s name. She wondered what it would be like to see him again after this many years. Would he recognize her? Would he be proud of who she had become? Would he love her?
“Hector?” she yelled. “Hector Suarez?”
The crowd coming up from the boat were all anxious to get to the shore and paid no attention to her. She was pushed backwards, but managed to fight her way back to the boat, still while yelling her father’s name.
“Hector Suarez? I’m looking for Hector Suarez.”
A voice suddenly broke through the air and a face appeared in front of her. “I’m Hector Suarez,” the voice said.
Isabella gasped, then looked into the eyes of the person standing in front of her. He was smiling widely. Everything inside of Isabella froze when she looked into this man’s eyes. The evil that emerged from them was so overwhelming it made her numb.
Isabella shook her head and took a step backwards.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the feeling of disappointment eating her from the inside. “I was looking for someone else. For another Hector Suarez.”
The man still smiled. Isabella felt very uncomfortable.
“Good luck finding the real one.”
Chapter Seventy-Nine
May 2015
Hector fell to the ground with a loud thud, blood gushing out from his chest. I pointed my gun at Vernon, not knowing what else to do. I didn’t understand anything of what was going on.
“What the heck is going on here?” I yelled. “Explain!”
Vernon dropped the gun, then lifted both his hands in the air. “I’m sorry. I had to do it,” he said.
“Why? Why did you have to shoot Hector?” I asked.
“Can I please explain later?” Vernon asked. “We need to get the boy out of there.” He nodded towards the door, where the heavy banging and screaming was coming from. I realized he was right. I didn’t trust Vernon one bit, but in this moment, I had to. I should have cuffed him, but wasn’t carrying any cuffs.
“Stay there,” I said, and pointed the gun at him while walking to the door. Vernon walked backwards both hands in the air. I grabbed the door handle and tried to open it, but it was locked.
Of course it was locked. Meanwhile, the screaming intensified behind the door.
“HEEELP ME!”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll get you out.”
I looked to Vernon for help. “Try to see if he has the key on him,” he said.
I bent down and went through Hector’s pockets. I found a set of keys in his pants and pulled it out, then sprang for the door. I tried key after key but none worked. I cursed and tried a new one. Finally, one worked. I turned it and opened the door. A light so bright it burned my eyes hit my face and blinded me. I covered my eyes with my hand, as I felt someone throw himself in my arms. I lifted him up, turned around, and carried him away from the burning bright light. Then, I finally looked. In my arms lay Noah Kinley. He was naked and badly bruised on his small body. He was skinny and feeble and so pale. He held on to me so tightly I wasn’t sure he would ever let go again.
“There’s a blanket over there,” I said to Vernon. “Could you grab it and wrap him in it?” I said, fighting my tears. The boy felt so skinny in my arms.
Vernon grabbed the blanket and wrapped the boy. Then, he grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the cooler in the corner. He handed it to the boy. The boy grabbed it and gulped it down.
“Easy there,” I said. “I don’t want you to choke.”
The boy emptied the cup. Vernon fetched more for him, which he drank as greedily as the first, still while clinging to me. I held him up so he could drink again when we heard a loud crash.
Austin!
“The winds are picking up,” Vernon said. “This place isn’t safe.”
“I have my son in the car!” I yelled, then ran out the door with Noah Kinley still tight in my arms. The adrenalin in my body was so strong, still my shoulder hurt like crazy. But I fought my way through it. I was getting all of us to safety, no matter the cost.
Vernon held the front door open for us and as I walked outside I realized what had happened…what had caused that big crashing sound.
A tree had fallen. It had fallen from across the street and blocked the road going south. Luckily, it was still open going north.
“We better hurry,” Vernon said. He helped me carry Noah to the car and get him inside the back seat. Vernon jumped in with him and I took the wheel. “Are you alright Austin?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Are you?”
“I will be. As soon as we get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Eighty
May 2015
“We need to get him to the hospital!”
Vernon was yelling at me from the back seat. We had made it onto A1A, when Noah Kinley suddenly got worse.
“He’s shaking, Daddy,” Austin yelled. “His eyes look
creepy!”
A wind gust grabbed the car and forced it sideways; the wheels slid on the wet asphalt. I turned hard on the steering wheel and got the car back on the road.
“Just hold on,” I said and sped up. The rain was hammering on the windshield. Lightning hit somewhere close by. The thunder clap came right away. It sounded like the entire sky cracked open above us. Austin screamed. I focused on the road and staying on it. Water had overflowed the road and flooding had started.
I grabbed my cellphone to try and call Ron, but there was no service. “I think we can make it to Cape Canaveral Hospital.”
The adrenalin was rushing through my veins as I passed Downtown Cocoa Beach. It was strange to see my town so vacant. All the shops and restaurants were closed up with shutters or plywood. The streets were dark and wet. Not a single car. All parking lots close to the beach that usually were swarmed with cars, even though they charged ten, sometimes fifteen dollars for parking, were empty.
I drove past the Kelly Slater statue and out of the old downtown. A tree had fallen and blocked the street on my side, so I had to drive onto the other side of the road to get past it. The wheels screeched, and I lost contact with the road as we hit the flood of water gushing across the road.
I regained control of the car and managed to continue on A1A. We passed Ron Jon’s Surf shop, where the eight-foot surfboard in front of it had fallen and blocked the entrance. I turned left and made it onto 520 towards the mainland. The hospital was located on a small peninsula on the way to the bridges. We weren’t far from it.
“Hurry, hurry,” Vernon said. “He’s cramping.”
“Hold on, we’re almost there,” I said.
I sped up. I could see the hospital now.
“Please, stay with us,” Vernon said.
I could feel the desperation in his voice. We were so close now. Just a few more yards.
