Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 02 - Death in the Dark (4 page)

THE SCREAM

I woke up before the sun. My body felt stiff. Surprisingly, I wanted to go for a run. Consider my transformation complete, I thought as I stepped out into the hazy morning. Blue was overjoyed by my new need for speed. He circled me, letting out a bark of approval. It was as if he was saying, “See it’s fun to run.”

The sand was cool on my bare feet and the sun turned the sky and sea into the perfect heather grey as I trod along. My breath came easily, no panting and wheezing for me I thought with a smile. I felt strong. Really strong, like ‘I could take on the world’ strong.

As the sun rose bringing a pink flush to the sky my pace stayed steady. Blue and I ran where the sea and the sand met. Occasionally, I stepped into the gentle surf feeling a cooling tingle through my whole body as the chilly waters engulfed my feet. The beach curved around the shape of the land. How long had this been like this, I wondered. Did the shore line change every season as storms blew their powerful winds and slapped the beach with crashing waves or would the Mayans who originally inhabited this land recognize its topography?

Around the next bend we ran past a construction site still in the early morning light. It was one of those condo projects that promised the good life in the sun. And while I hated to see the land churned and the cement poured, I hoped that the people who moved here found peace and happiness. There was no place better than this for them to have a chance.

When my legs began to ache and my lungs swore they could take no more, I turned us back toward the oyster farm. Thoughts of a fresh breakfast with eggs and refried beans filled my mind as I pushed toward home. And home was what it was, I realized. In all my blind pain, pathetic misery and plain alcoholism, I’d managed to find the perfect place.

I slowed to a walk and felt the sun hot on my face. Blue jumped into the water and splashed out past where he could stand. With only a moment’s hesitation I followed him. The water was cold and sent goosebumps spreading across my skin. It was the sweetest contrast to the heat burning through my muscles. I took a deep breath and dunked under the surface. Pressing my eyes closed, my hair floated off my head cooling me from tip to toe. I heard Blue barking through the crackle and shushing of the sea.

Coming up for air, I swam out to where my feet dangled without a bottom to touch. The ocean undulated around me guided by the moon and the wind. Blue’s head cut through the crisp sea; swimming parallel to the shore, he steered toward the farm and I followed in a gentle breast stroke. Gulls cawed above us and the sweet mix of salt and sea wafted off the surface of the water. We moved slowly, the gentle swells lifting us up and down, quiet and calm under a clear blue sky.

The first scream was faint, followed by one fuller. Blue’s ears perked in its direction and fear crept into my conscious. The thumping of my heart grew quicker and louder urging me toward shore. My toes sought the sandy bottom as Blue sped ahead. He emerged from the surf ahead of me. His thick coat hung on his thin form like an old forgotten fur coat. Blue shook, flinging off the weight of water in a 360 degree rainbow.

The waves pushed me toward the beach. Blue was waiting and once my feet hit the earth I took off at a sprint. Another scream, this one louder, was choked off by a sob. The sound forced me forward as I became convinced it came from the farm. It was a short distance before the small cement building and dilapidated plastic tables and chairs came into view. Two figures were standing in the bright sun, clutching each other.

Ramon and his mother. There was no mistaking his compact form, her long grey braid. She was crumpled against him, injured in some way I thought. Blue raced ahead when he spotted them. Neither looked up as he slid through the sand coming to halt by their side. The closer I got the worse it looked. Ramon’s eyes were squeezed shut and an expression of utter pain distorted his features. His strong arms, muscles tight with tension, circled his mother, holding her up. The old woman’s legs lay under her limp and loose, her feet at odd angles in the sand.

“What’s happened?” I asked, my breath coming in pulses. Neither of them answered. I touched Ramon’s shoulder. His eyes shot open and stared at me but no spark of recognition lit them. “Ramon?” Tears welled and that sound I’d heard as a distorted cry in the ocean left his mouth in a wrenching scream.

Abedella leaned against Ramón’s chest, listening to his cry through the muffle of his muscles and bones. “Let’s get them inside,” Merl said, suddenly by my side. He startled me. “A good lesson on how your emotions will blind you to your surroundings,” he said. I stared at Merl, who stood there in the hot sun, calm and steady, not even a sheen of sweat on his skin. “Come,” he said, turning to Ramon. Merl laid a gentle hand on his arm and Ramon turned toward the house, taking his mother with him. She stumbled along, never raising her face from her son’s chest.

It was dark inside the cement structure. The small windows were shaded by the large palm frond roof that covered the dining area. The floor was immaculate except for the sand I dragged in with me. Normally I would have dipped my feet into the plastic tub of water Abedella kept by the front door but we’d rushed in here in such a fervor of excitement that I’d totally forgotten. I felt like an intruder watching their grief as they sat on their small couch, hands clasped, blank expressions on their faces. They’d told us their story, or at least what we could understand of it.

My complete lack of language skills was infuriating me. The dogs waited outside, all four of them panting in the shade watching the small house for movement. Once and a while I’d hear the soft padding as one circled the structure, the distinct sound of sniffing rising through the open windows. The horror of Ramon’s story hung in the air. I could feel it like a weight against my body, squeezing me. Merl sat calmly on a plastic chair he’d brought in from outside.

Abedella hugged a photograph of the young woman, Ramon’s sister, her daughter. It was in a cheap plastic, black frame that cut into Abedella’s arms where she pressed into it. Paty was only 13 in the picture. It was a portrait from her communion. Paty was sweet looking. Overweight with tiny eyes, a nose so upturned it resembled a pig’s and a weak chin made her far from beautiful but her smile was filled with hope and pride.

While everyone else in the room seemed to be stuck in some kind of time warp there was a rage building inside me. Who did this? Who trampled on these people’s peace? These people who helped me without ever being asked. I stood up abruptly and went outside. Looking around at the empty tables and quiet setting I felt myself seething. This was not going to stand. Oh hells no. This was not-

“Sydney?” Merl was standing next to me. “Calm down.”

I breathed deeply but all it did was fuel the power building in my chest. There was that core again, that excitement that was not going to let me or anyone else stop it. There was a yearning that could not be ignored. And whoever did this! They would pay!

“You can’t help them in this state.” Merl said.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to help them.”

“It’s already happened. She is gone.”

“I know that Merl!”

“Quiet,” he hissed at me. “Do you want to upset them more?”

“I know she is dead. But I strongly disagree that there is nothing I can do. Why am I killing myself to learn all this if I’m not going to use it to help people like them?” I pointed back through the open door.

“You need to calm-”

“Go get your truck. We’re going to Juarez.” Merl opened his mouth to speak but I stepped right into his face. Eye to eye, I said in an even and deadly calm voice, “If you don’t get your truck I’ll go and buy one and I will take them there without you.”

Merl cocked his head, examining me for a moment. “Okay,” he said.

I went back to the door and communicated the best I could that we would take them to Juarez to help arrange for Paty’s remains to be brought back and put to rest on the farm. I did not mention my murderous intentions.

I headed to the Javelina and changed out of my wet clothing and into a pair of cut-off shorts and a T-shirt. I threw on a hoodie and grabbed enough clean underwear and T-shirts for a couple of days. I also threw in a pair of jeans that Merl had made me buy because, as he put it, “they fit”.

Within the hour we were on our way to Juarez. Merl drove, I stewed in the passenger seat, Ramon and Abedella sat like two over-used rag dolls in the back seat. All four dogs enjoyed the fresh air in the bed of the truck. “Usually Juarez would be considered a dangerous place to bring a truck this nice,” Merl said. “But I think with all the dog power in the back we’re going to be OK.” He smiled at me and I tried to smile back but my mouth was set in a grimace and wouldn’t even twitch.

“Malina,” Abedella said.

I turned around. “What? Que?”

“Malina, Paty’s amigo. She no good.” Abedella nodded at her own judgement. Ramon shook his head but did not speak. “Malina make Paty go, she never want to leave me.”

“No,” Ramon said. “No.”

Abedella nodded her head in agreement with herself and patted Ramon’s hand. “No hablaremos de ella cuando la ve amos. Esto es su culpa.”

“What is she saying?” I asked turning to Merl.

He shrugged. “I think she is saying that they should ignore someone named Malina. That Paty’s death was her fault.”

“Does that make sense?”

“From what I understood earlier she was raped and murdered. Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense that a woman did it.”

“They move together,” Abedella said leaning forward. “Paty never leave me. Malina make her go.”

“Ok,” I said.

It took us 12 hours to make the drive to Juarez. Merl suggested we stop and spend the night instead of fighting through but everyone else in the car felt it better to continue. The drive was bleak to say the best about it. Desert and scrubby shrubs lined the road. The occasional gas station and restaurant reminded us that we were still in a civilization. We stopped every couple of hours to stretch our legs and let the dogs take a break. I stared out into the desert with its pathetic dried-up looking plants clinging to life and tried to control the anger building with each breath.

It was dark when we got to Juarez. We found a hotel that accepted dogs and moved us all in. It wasn’t a nice hotel but it was not disgusting.

Alone in my room I pulled the covers back and climbed under them, covering my head. Blue climbed up on the bed next to me and I heard his gentle breathing through the blanket. I fell into a restless sleep.

A knocking at my door woke me. Abedella and Ramon stood outside dressed and ready to go. “Delegacion,” Abedella said. When I stared at her blankly she said, “Police,” and gestured that we should leave.

I nodded and held up two fingers to show it would just be a few minutes. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” They nodded their understanding. I grabbed my jeans and put on a clean T-shirt, brushed my teeth and hair, then Blue and I took the steps down to the lobby. Merl was there with his dogs. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of him there. How many times do you get to see a guy with waist length curls wearing all black and holding onto the leash of three Doberman pinchers standing in the shabby lobby of a hotel? The guy behind the counter didn’t find it as funny as me. He actually looked scared.

“I’ll take Blue, why don’t you escort them to the police station.”

“Thanks,” I said handing Blue’s leash over. “Kinda ruins your look though.” Merl just smiled.

The police station was only a couple of blocks away. It was early, and though the sun was hot, the sidewalk under our feet was still cool so the day seemed bearable.

The police station took up most of a block. Police cars lined the sidewalk. Some were pulled up onto the curb while others angled out into the street. The arrangement made it clear who controlled the block. A young woman wearing a dress that was almost appropriate for church but hugged a little too tight around her hips and pushed a bit too hard at her bust line stood next to the entrance. Ramon opened his mouth to say something to her but Abedella took his arm and hurried him up the few steps to the station’s front door.

This must be the hated Malina- the girl who dragged their sweet Paty through the mud then got her killed, I guessed. I bet she’d always dressed like that. Some girls were born that way- it wasn’t her fault. Paty’s death was the sole responsibility of the men that killed her.

Malina clutched a small pocketbook to her chest as she watched Ramon and Abedella climb the steps and enter the police station. I went to follow them but stopped on the second step and turned back to the young woman. She was uncommonly pretty. Long, thick, dark hair lay shiny and straight down to her shoulder blades. And even though Malina’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying, their almond shape and rich hazel color still shone through. Full lips and a small nose completed her perfect little face. I wondered how much the disparity in their looks effected Malina and Paty’s friendship.

I was staring at her for long enough that she shifted her attention from the closed doors of the station to me. “Hi,” I said reaching out a hand. She looked at it and then back at my face. “I’m a friend of the family.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” she said, her English accented but very good.