Tortured Spirits (50 page)

Jorge pulled up to the resort in an open jeep. Music blasted from all over the grounds.

“Our old suite?” Maria said.

“It's only been a few days,” Jake said. “Our reservation's still good. We just need a key to our room.”

“I'll stop at the front desk,” Jorge said.

“I wish I still had my clothes,” Maria said.

Jorge climbed out of the jeep. “I'll stop by the Church of the White Snake in the morning. If I can, I'll bring your clothes. If not, we'll get you new ones tomorrow.”

“Will you ask the front desk for some bandages? I'd like to change Jake's dressing.”

“Oui.”

They watched him enter the office.

“Thank God he made it,” Maria said.

“Thank God all three of us did.”

“Poor Edgar.”

After Jorge left them in their suite, they showered together and scrubbed each other clean. The front desk didn't have any suitable dressing for Jake's arm, but Jorge promised to bring some in the morning.

Maria washed their clothes in the sink and hung them outside on the patio to dry in the warm night air, and then they crawled into bed nude and held on to each other. They didn't make love but slept face-to-face.

An hour later, Jake stirred when Maria sat up beside him. “What is it?”

Light flickered outside the window, and he thought he heard a distant rifle shot.

Maria got out of bed and walked over to the glass door, which she opened. “Come here.”

He followed her onto the balcony. Fireworks exploded in the sky, casting dazzling colors onto Maria's naked body. He slid his hand around her smooth waist.

“Happy July Fourth,” she said.

“Yeah. Happy Bastille Day.”

This light show they watched together.

Jake and Maria pulled on their clothes when they heard a knock on the door. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows. Jake opened the door for Jorge. To his surprise, Ramona stood beside him.

“You remember my cousin?” Jorge said.

“Of course. I understand I owe you my life.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't do more,” Ramona said.

Maria joined them.

Jake gestured inside. “Come on in.”

“Ramona's come to change your dressing,” Jorge said. “We brought you an eye patch, too.”

“Great.” Jake sat on the cane-framed sofa, and Ramona sat beside him and unwrapped the dressing on his stump. Jake put on the black eye patch.

“We can't get through to the airport,” Maria said.

“The telephone lines were down. They're working now. Try them again.”

Jake watched the dressing come off his stump and examined his arm. Sutures held the pink folds of flesh together. It was his first time seeing the wound since Russel had cut off his hand. He glanced at Maria, who looked away.

“Let me see if I can get us a flight out of here,” she said and left the room.

Ramona inspected the wound. “It looks clean. You should heal nicely.” She applied some disinfectant, than wrapped the fresh dressing around the remainder of his forearm.

“What are the casualties?” Jake said.

Jorge sat in a chair. “It's too soon to tell. We suffered losses, of course. Malvado's forces suffered far worse.”

“What happens now?”

“La Mère is returning in a few days. She has graciously accepted to serve as our interim president until elections can be held.”

“She's a symbolic choice.”

Jorge nodded. “Symbolism is important right now. Andre's story must have a triumphant ending.”

Propaganda,
Jake thought. “And Malvado's forces?”

“El Miedo is no longer empty. It's overcrowded. So are our municipal jails. Some of his soldiers will serve life sentences for war crimes. Some will serve shorter sentences. And others will be permitted to rejoin society. But all of them wear the black snake on their arms and will pay a price.”

“What about you?”

“I'm a musician. I'll go back to playing music. At least now I can audition for the national orchestra. But first we must bury the dead and honor them.”

Maria returned a few minutes later. “I got us onto a flight leaving at 2:00 p.m. Um, I need some clothes.”

“We'll take you shopping,” Jorge said.

“I need clothes just to go shopping.”

Ramona reached into her bag. “I brought you shorts and a T-shirt.”

“Thank you so much.”

Jake stared at his stump. He could have sworn he still felt his missing hand. “What about our passports?”

“I have them,” Jorge said.

On the drive to Pavot City in Ramona's white sedan, they saw people with exuberant expressions waving the Pavot flag from the side of the road. Jack and Maria sat in the backseat. Neither spoke.

The charred ruins of overturned cars filled the streets of Pavot City, but that didn't stop the crowds from celebrating. Streamers and confetti flew from the windows of apartment buildings, and musicians played in the street while men, women, and children danced upon the discarded billboards depicting Malvado. Smoke continued to billow from abandoned factories.

It's good we came, even if we let Edgar down
, Jake thought.

They drove through a citizen's brigade outside the airport. Ramona and Jorge convinced the armed civilians that Jake and Maria were friendly to their cause.

At the curb outside the terminal, Jorge shook Jake's hand. “Thank you for everything.”

Maria hugged Jorge. “Good-bye. I hope we see you again someday.”

Jorge smiled. “I don't think you will. Neither of you will ever return to Pavot Island. But I'll think of you often.”

“Libération de I'île Pavot,” Jake said.

“Libération de I'île Pavot.”

Jake and Maria boarded the airplane with a beleaguered-looking group of American businessmen. The plane was filled to capacity, unlike the trip over.

“They don't realize it, but this island is safer now than it's been the whole time they were here,” Jake said.

“They're probably just upset they're going to have to pay the workers higher wages.”

Jake rested his head against his seat and sighed. “It feels weird to be heading home.”

“The vacation's over. Back to work.”

Jake laughed and Maria squeezed his hand.

As soon as the plane touched down Jake felt at home again, even though Florida was as alien to him as any foreign country. They passed through the arrival gate in Miami International Airport, and Maria held on to his left arm. He assumed she was being considerate by leaving his remaining hand free. All he wanted to do was retrieve Edgar and return to New York City, where he hoped a new life awaited him.

Two well-groomed men in crisp black suits, one slim and the other heavyset, approached them.

Federales,
Jake thought.

“Jake Helman and Maria Vasquez?” one of the men said.

Jake blew air out of his cheeks. “Yeah …”

The man flashed a State Department ID. “Adam Weissman with State. This is my partner, Bob Freeman.”

“What can we do for you boys?”

“We need to question you about what just happened on Pavot Island.”

“We don't know anything. We were tourists, and we're just glad to be home.”

Weissman gestured at Jake's stump. “According to our records, you had two hands when you flew over there. Follow us, please.”