Redemption's Warrior (14 page)

Christopher crashes to his knees. Luis takes the opportunity to right hook him in the ear. His world tilts and spins. Deep in his intestines nausea grips him. Christopher projectile vomits on Fat Luis’s shoe.

Infuriated Luis grabs him by the collar, yanks him to his feet and bolo punches him in the groin, the pain an electric bolt from his toes to his ears. Christopher faints. Curled in a fetal position, a fire is blazing in his belly, parts of him are swollen like a cucumber and other parts have vanished.

He comes to when Luis throws a bucket of water on him. A bucket of water Christopher supplied at Luis request before he offered him the cigarette.

Sound travels down a long corridor. From a distance he can hear Luis laughing.  He says, “What are you looking for
gringo
? Did you lose something today?”

Hands on hips, Luis looms over Christopher. He yells, “Gringo, that’s a gift from me and
El Jefe
. You’re too cocky. You forget you are a prisoner!
Basura
! Get to your feet. Let’s go buy some fish for the man.”

Slowly Christopher rolls to his hands and knees. Face to face with the wooden dock he notices the wood is silver with age and splinters. When he stands a ripping sensation has him bending in two.
That can’t be good.

There is no time to assess his injuries. He slowly moves to release the bow lines. He steps gingerly, finding his footing, aboard the launch. As they speed out toward the fisherman Christopher vomits over the side.

When his stomach settles he fills a small bucket with water. He pours the cool water down the front of his pants. Filling it a second time he pours it over his head. His ear throbs.

Fat Luis laughs and his belly bounces. Christopher gazes at his feet thinking
I could kill this idiot with one blow
. He feels the power of a mighty kick growing within him.

Seen from the lookout tower the escapee alert would be out before he could get very far. And he’s in no condition to run.

When he can form a cohesive thought he realizes
my time on
La Luna
is at an end. If I can’t escape they’ll take me out to the jungle after Juanita’s next visit. They’ll wait for her to see me one more time to avoid her suspicions. Her father will hire a new crew member…

Luis pulls alongside the Vargas fishing boat. Taking in Christopher’s appearance Miguel yells, “Hey! What happened to you? Your ear bleeds, and your face is swollen!”

Fat Luis laughs from the Captain’s chair. “Not the only thing swollen from my beating,” he brags. “The
gringo
even threw up on my shoe and again on our way out here.”

Miguel takes in Christopher’s bent posture and understands what happened. He looks to his father. Leon’s face is a storm cloud. Over and over, waking and sleeping, he still sees Daniel’s face and hears him beg, “
Por favor, por favor.
A memory he will never shake.

Together father and son help Christopher load the fish. They give him a first aid packet of ice for his ear. The exchange goes smoothly. But Christopher sees something new in Leon’s face, determination growing.

Christopher can only hope the duo will agree to give him transportation to Mazatlan. Somehow he must arrange to make his way to their boat, unseen by the towers, in the dark. After Juanita’s next visit he will ask them.

A
t seven in the morning it’s already hot and sticky. Men stamp impatiently waiting for the
putas
to arrive. Christopher has not seen Juanita for two months. Today he will hold her in his arms. He’ll ask the question never far from his mind and heart since his revelation. If all goes well they’ll make a plan for a life together.

On
La Luna
Christopher has become a liability. He’s shunned by all but Checo and
Ave Bonita
. Also an exception is
El Jefe
who is still hungry for Christopher’s fish. Christopher’s beating at the hands of Fat Luis is a warning everyone else has heeded. If he doesn’t escape soon his time on
Islas Tres Marias
will end with his body rotting in the bone yard. He’ll fight for a future with Juanita. He needs to know.
Does she have the strength, the will, to overcome these obstacles? Can we claim a future together? Does she love me? Does she know I love her?

Sitting on the bluff he spies a pair of parrots swooping through the tree top canopy. Their colorful plumage is iridescent. Ferocity radiates around them like a protective shield. Checo has told him, “Parrots mate for life.”

He jogs on the dirt trail leading to the dock. As Christopher approaches the area he feels something out of place. A west wind running; hungry, warm air brushes over him.
Winds normally blow out of the south or east
.
And it’s kicking up whitecaps. It must have been a bumpy ride for Juanita to the island
.

Thoughts fall away when he spots her.
The air shimmers. There! Her swan!
Juanita smiles, she is radiant. Christopher’s heart pounds with excitement. “Yes!” he shouts.

Juanita shoots him another happy smile while securing the shorelines. For an instant, just the blink of an eye, time disappears. Juanita immersed in Christopher’s love. Christopher feels Juanita’s love for him. Catcalls, boisterous shouting and pushing, slam him back into the moment. From the boat Juanita waves, “
Hola
Christopher. I’ll be up the trail
uno momento
.”

The woman crowd on deck and wave their dresses like flags. Lips pucker invitations. Men shout and feet thump the dock. It’s a circus. Christopher moves up the hill to wait for Juanita.

From this vantage point he notices the tide pulling out long over the rocks below.
That’s peculiar
.
Even more strange, there are no birds.
Typically birds are screeching a greeting at the arriving boat. No Frigate birds drift in the thermals
.

Ominous gray clouds are building in the west. The air settles over his shoulders with the heaviness of a blanket. Absorbed in his upcoming conversation with Juanita, Christopher shrugs off his questions about the weather. Dark skies in the morning can turn into dazzling, hot afternoons.
Weather in Hurricane Alley can be turbulent.

Climbing the cliff, finding Christopher waiting, Juanita smiles. Eyes wide and clear, skin toned and golden, standing tall and straight, Juanita’s heart reflected in her eyes. Christopher says, “I suffered in our time apart.” He rubs his chest, a remnant pain of their separation, and gives her a lopsided smile. Carefully he pulls out the amethyst rosary. Beads murmur softly as they pool in his cupped hand. “I found this in the chapel. The cleric gave it to me. It spoke to me of you.”

The swan looks over Juanita’s shoulder. Christopher knows anyone who hurts Juanita will answer to her. Since his beating he’s been on high alert. He wants to know Juanita is safe. Out of the corner of his left eye he sees the blue dragonfly, vivid with life. “Juanita, exiled on this crazy island, I found you. If I had to go to prison to find you, then I’ll happily do it again to…” He clears his throat, “To build a life together.”

Her eyes never leave his face. Juanita opens her palm receiving the rosary. The beads slip from Christopher’s hand into Juanita’s. They pool into a lake of amethyst and pearl. In her eyes he sees love mirrored back to him,
Juanita’s love
. Her face alight with joy, Juanita kisses Christopher. She slips the rosary looped over her wrist. She gazes at him in silence.

Taking her arm he guides her further away from the cliff seeking privacy. Troubled by her silence Christopher’s says, “What the heck Juanita! I’m trying to propose to you! Will you marry me?”

He cannot help himself. Leaning over he places gentle kisses on her cheek, her neck, trailing down her throat onto her chest, nipping at her collarbone. Their hands and lips begin to roam. Excitement shimmers around them. “I’ll marry you Christopher,” whispers Juanita.

In an alcove high above the sea, away from prying eyes, with soft sighs and fierce strength, they touch, sharing, in the most intimate ways.  Later they whisper of their love, a miracle budding in captivity. A love nurtured in the harsh and deadly environment of
Islas Tres Marias.

Christopher explains his timeline. They agree Juanita will immediately go to his parents. Even staying with her
Tia
in San Diego would put her under the control of her father. When they pause each one notices the dark sky pressing down. Thinking out loud Christopher says, “The siren will sound a warning for danger.”

With so much to share, touch and feel the outside world falls away. Christopher has prepared a letter for his parents, their address and phone number, all sealed in a plastic bag.

Juanita asks, “How will you cross the border without your passport or other identification?”

He soothes her. “I’ll have to be flexible. I have money saved.”

Rubbing his hand down the length of her arm, he asks “What does
La Currandera
say? ‘Goals and their corresponding acts create positive possibilities.’ I’ll have to trust in your Beneficence.”

Eyes bright with tears Juanita nods. “I’ll wait for you at your parents.”

Christopher takes both her hands in his, “I need to know your safe.” He pauses. “We could marry between the apple trees.”

Juanita laughs, “You’ve given this thought.”

Nodding Christopher says, “You’ll love my family, Juanita. And they will love you.”

He reaches a hand pulling her to standing. They are dismayed to see the skies have continued blackening. The island muffled in quiet but in the distance thunder rumbles.

Concerned, Juanita says, “I have to get back to the boat. My father will want to leave ahead of this storm.”

Christopher’s heart accelerates. Looking into Juanita’s eyes they are thinking the same thing. Juanita talked about it only once. Her older brother was lost at sea in a storm. He’d refused to wear a bow line tethering him to the boat or a life jacket. Juanita’s father, dispirited in the wake of his wife’s death, did not have the energy to argue.

Turning Juanita to face him Christopher says, “Let’s talk to your father. Why not ride out the storm here?” His heart pounds with fear for Juanita and her father’s reckless choices.

Juanita shakes her head. Her father has weekend plans that include the agave fermented, golden liquid, Tequila. She gives Christopher a kiss, then pushes the plastic covered papers deep into her pocket.

Christopher catches her, crushing her, pulling her to his heart. Love full and enduring wraps around them. The white swan spreads her wings surrounding, shielding Juanita in his arms. She whispers, “Our plan in place.
La Currandera
tells me ‘behaviors with dreams build our foundation.’ Then we’re reunited!”

Christopher knows nothing he can do or say will stop Juanita’s father from leaving the island. A sick feeling accompanies their goodbye. Instead of feeling hopeful, this parting is jagged and painful. Juanita’s final words are, “Trust Christopher, trust Beneficence.”

He sits on their cliff watching the sea. The long tide is pulling out further and exposing more rocks below. He studies the rocks thinking aloud. “I’ve never seen the tide driven out so far and still no siren warning.”

Sitting in the muffled quiet, observing the boat preparing to leave, understanding explodes within him.
The hurricane is coming out of the west. The west! A hurricane is coming and no one is prepared
. His thoughts are barely complete when the wind kicks up sand and the palm trees bend toward the sea.

Christopher runs. A black sky presses down. The low ceiling makes each crevice of rock stand out boldly.
Can I convince the Captain to ride out the storm in
El Jefe’s hacienda? El Jefe
might not want their kinship common knowledge. But surely a hurricane is an exception!

He organizes his arguments while urgency propels him to leap from rock to rock. The Captain is thinking he can beat out this westerly storm. A trailing wind will speed up the trip home. Halfway down Juanita’s father blasts his air horn. Three quick bursts signal he’ll depart ASAP. Christopher is racing. Lightening blinds him. The crash of thunder so loud he tumbles down the last few feet.

At the dock waiting men oblivious to the weather yell insults. The Captain has already maneuvered the boat from the dock. He makes a rude gesture before turning his attention to the sea.

Christopher is too late. The boat has cleared the bay and is entering full speed into the stormy ocean. His ankle, bruised from his fall, needs attention. His chest is heaving. To catch the boat before it left was a futile effort. Head hanging he whispers, “Will I ever see the sparkles dancing around Juanita again? Will I hear her say, ‘I love you Christopher.’“?

The siren. With both hands on the ground to support him he yells, “Hurricane!”

Standing, turning from shore he begins searching a safe place to ride out the storm. But first he makes a quick stop at the shed near the dock. Grabbing a roll of duct tape and beginning at the arch of his foot, creating a base, he wraps the tape around his foot and ankle. Standing, his foot can bear his weight now.

Whipping wind pushes him to Fat Luis sitting in a jeep talking on the radio. Grabbing the driver’s door with both hands he screams to be heard over the now howling wind. Luis answers but his words fly by. All he can make out is, “hurricane… muy malo.” Luis puts the jeep in gear and heads for the town. Christopher can see the gates are closing.
Inmates are every man for themselves
.

The earlier quiet has been replaced with buffeting winds tearing the jungle apart. Christopher is bursting with futile rage. All he can think
he’s carrying Juanita into a monster. The island will not sink, but his boat can flounder.

It is too painful to consider his task to stay alive and find shelter.
I am no good to Juanita dead
. He hears the chant she taught him, “Dreams, acts, faith in Beneficence.”

Most storms come from the south but this storm comes from the west. Could this be the devastating hurricane everyone fears?