90 Miles to Freedom (14 page)

One day I plan to tell my son the story of the raging storm. I will tell him that I was scared, but he won’t believe me. I am his father and I am not supposed to be afraid of anything. He will enjoy such a tale.

Today should be my last day on this forsaken water. I will find land or I will be found. I have no options. I will either find my freedom or I will die on this water.

Today is the day. I can do this.

*  *  *

Evening

I did not find land today. I was not found either. I believe the waves and winds of the storm have blown my raft off course.

Where am I? Am I closer to America? Or am I somewhere in the middle of nowhere? I am lost.

If I had not left Cuba I would be with my family. I would have at least eaten a small meal this evening and I would be safe. I would not be thirsty. I would not be burned or in pain. Did I make the right decision, leaving them for a dream?

The water is finally calm. Before the sun went down I saw sharks in the distance, slowly circling my raft. They know I am here. Are they close? I cannot see them for the darkness. I can hear splashes on the silent water where before I heard nothing. The sharks are waiting for me. Watching me. They are always hungry. I must stay quiet. I must stay awake.

I begin to cry again. I’ve cried more during this journey than I have throughout my entire life. I need comfort but nobody is with me to ease my pain. Can my wife feel my pain? Does she hear my cries?

I am not certain how many more days I will live without food or water. I don’t believe I can do this any longer.

Chapter 25

What’s that damn sound? The noise was something sudden, something fierce. The sound of rain pelting down on metal came to mind.

Collin struggled through the murk of confusion, reaching towards consciousness. When at last he was lucid, he realized he lay on hard dirt, his back in agony, hands fumbling towards his aching head.

“
He’s finally waking up. Hey, asshole. Are you going to get up today?” The strange voice was deep and heavily accented. He kicked Collin hard in the foot.

“
What day is it?” Collin asked. How long had he been here, wherever that was? He pressed his hands over his eyes and smelled dry dirt.

“
What day is it?” The man repeated, his tone mocking. “Well, today is your lucky day! You know why? Because you’re still alive.” The man hooted with laughter. “Your lucky day. That’s what day it is!” He shuffled away, dragging his feet and stirring up dust. “He’s waking up, Neo! See to it he gets something to eat and drink.”

A metal door slammed shut and Collin opened his eyes, trying to identify where he was. He stared up at the ceiling of some type of warehouse he’d never seen before, or at least he didn’t think he had. From where he lay he could hear the ocean, the rain, the sound of boats, and people outside. He must be on a dock at a port somewhere. But where? And how did he get here?

The metal door scraped open and a pair of feet thumped quickly along the dirt floor.

“
You’re awake I see. This is good. Here’s some water and biscuits. My name is Neo. They will be coming for you soon, my friend. So listen carefully. I must go.”

Neo knelt next to Collin and whispered close to his face. “They brought you in late last evening. I heard them saying that you, a dirty American, had been stealing from them, taking their workers to America, and that they are losing money because of you and your friend.” Neo spoke so fast that Collin could barely keep up.

“
Your friend is there,” Neo said and pointed towards the other end of the warehouse. When Collin squinted he could see the still body of a man, curled on his side. “I must go now, but if you value your life you must listen to me now. Do whatever they say. Find your way back home. I cannot help anymore. God be with you and keep you safe.”

Neo quickly turned to leave. As he opened the door, Collin could see that he’d been right: he was on a dock, surrounded by boats. Men loitered outside the door, drinking and laughing as if nothing were wrong. The warehouse was small, shabby and poorly built. Any windows had been painted over in order to obscure any proper light from entering the room, as well as to prevent anyone from either looking out or looking in. The tin roof was thin and the sound of every rain drop echoed throughout the building.

Collin managed to get to his feet, trying not to make a sound. He didn’t want to attract any attention. Moving slowly, he made his way to the other end of the warehouse, heading towards the prone body of the man in the corner.

With a groan, Collin leaned down and saw that it was indeed Adelio, lying on his side in the dirt. Someone had beaten Adelio badly. His face was bruised and swollen. Open cuts and streaks of dried blood almost completely covered his face and neck. There was blood on his torn shirt as well. His hands were bruised and swollen, as if he had fought back.

Collin shook Adelio gently. “Adelio! Adelio!” he whispered urgently. “Can you hear me? Come on man, wake up! It’s me, Collin!”

Adelio groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. “Collin?” he croaked, his voice scratchy. He looked genuinely shocked. “What are you doing here?

“
Adelio! What is going on? Where are we? What happened to you?”  Collin heard himself peppering Adelio with questions, just like his brother always did to him. He didn’t pause for answers but demanded them just the same. “Who did this to you?”

“
We are in Cuba in a small fishing village. You must go! You must leave! They will kill us both!” Adelio blurted.

Collin watched him reach for a small bucket of water by his head and struggle with it, eventually taking a gulp. He choked down the water then quickly took a few more large mouthfuls before he choked and began spewing water with every cough. After a few minutes he settled down, but kept a tight grip on the bucket. His eyes were deep with remorse when he looked up at Collin.

“
Who are they?” Collin demanded. “And don’t tell me to leave. I’m not gonna just leave you here. You know that. What’s going on? Why are we here?”

“
Collin, my friend, they are the traffickers. They are angry with us for transporting Cuban citizens to America. Somehow we were found out. Someone must have betrayed me.” Adelio struggled to sit up and Collin helped him by placing a strong hand under his elbow.

A look of despair came across Adelio’s face “They’ve known for a very long time. Collin, I have something terrible to tell you, and I know you will hate me for all time when you learn this. I overheard them talking earlier. These men, they are responsible for the deaths of your parents. The explosion was never meant for them. They meant to kill you.”

The floor suddenly felt wobbly and Collin slammed his hands flat to hold himself upright. This was all a bad dream. It had to be. But no. This made sense. Betty and George had died when they started his car. It should have been him, not them.

Collin rested his head in the palms of his hands as tears rushed to his eyes. For the past year he had felt accountable for the deaths of his parents because of the faulty gas line in his car. Now he knew that he was entirely to blame. If he had not been transporting Cubans to America these men would not have killed his parents. There was no faulty fuel line, only faulty thinking on his part. He would always have that burden to bear.

“
There is one more thing, my friend. It’s your brother,” Adelio said.

Collin dropped his hands and stared straight into Adelio’s eyes.

“
What about my brother?” Collin demanded.

“
Joey. He is here. They have him.”

“
What? Joey?! They have Joey?!” Collin cried, then started sobbing. “Oh my God. What have I done? What have I done?” Collin brought his fisted hands to the sides of his head. His parents were dead because of him, and now they had his brother.

“
Where is he?”

“
I don’t know. I just heard them talking. You must find your brother quickly, Collin. You must leave this place and go home. Find a way! Find a new life so they cannot find you again. Our business together is over, you must understand. We must go our separate ways and you must go now. Take your brother and go!” Adelio said firmly.

Collin’s heart thundered; the dust on his hands had turned to mud with sweat. “Where is Joey? Where exactly are we?”

“
We are in Cuba. You know your way home. Only ninety miles through the Strait. But you must find your brother. Take a boat and just go.” Adelio said, then choked down more water to ease his tortured throat. His eyes darted beyond Collin and reflected sudden panic. “They are coming!”

Adelio struggled with a necklace he wore, tugging it out from within his shirt. A cross dangled from the old string. Collin helped his friend when he had trouble, then was surprised when Adelio thrust it towards him.

“
I want you to have this,” Adelio whispered. “My father gave it to me before he left on his journey. I want you to take it and keep it safe. Now go, Collin. May God be with you. I am a dead man.”

Chapter 26

Without pausing to think, Collin slipped the necklace over his head. He needed his hands free so he could help his friend. “I can’t just leave you here! Come on, Adelio. We can find Joey and leave together. You can finally come to America!”

But Adelio’s eyes, dark within the mass of cuts and bruises covering his face, suddenly pooled with fear. The hand Collin held between his own started to shake. Collin heard the voices of several men coming closer to the warehouse door. The door slammed open and two men stepped inside, letting it close with a thud behind them. Their stride suggested they owned the place, and Collin wasn’t about to argue. Both men were of average height and were stocky. Neither one of their expressions was forgiving in the least.

To his surprise, they ignored Adelio and stood by Collin instead. One of the men clucked his tongue with mock sympathy. “Collin, Collin,” he said with a deep sigh. “Oh, how you disappoint us. Did you think we would never find out? Did you think we would never find you? Do you not know who you are dealing with?”

Collin stared, mute with terror.

The man chuckled and tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. He leaned against a wooden post and smiled down at Collin. “Please excuse my manners. Let me introduce myself. My name is Pello, and this is my friend, Arlo. Hey, Arlo. Say hello to our new friend.” Arlo nodded towards Collin, not saying a word. He was a big man, with broad, muscular shoulders.

Pello spoke very good English and his clothes were those of a well-dressed punk. He wore a button-down white silk shirt under a black leather jacket, though the warehouse was warm. His jeans and boots looked expensive. The dim light of the warehouse reflected off a flashy gold watch and a number of rings on his fingers. His hair was slicked back and he wore a thick gold chain. Whether he had money or not, he wanted people to think he did. The half-smoked cigar between his fingers needed to be lit.

“
We do not like to be played with, Collin. That is the rule of the game,” Pello said, his cheerful voice turning grievous. “We do not like having things stolen from us. And most of all, we do not like losing money.”

Pello suddenly grabbed Collin by the hair and yanked his head back, then leaned in close so that he was within inches of Collin’s face. “You owe us!” he screamed, spit gathering at the corners of his mouth. “And you will pay! You will never do this again!” Pello’s fist tightened on Collin’s hair then thrust him to the side with all his strength, smashing Collin’s face into the ground. When Collin tried to lift his head he could taste blood running down his lips.