Erik Handy (2 page)

"Don't hurt our baby," she begged, hugging her bundle tighter.

Rosalo just grinned at that. "I won't."

He plunged his blade into the bundle she held.

A gasp of shock left her mouth. The blade went through the bundle and deep into her abdomen. Her eyes widened with either shock, pain, or the realization that death was near.

The bundle, the baby, fell away from her.

Chapter 6

Rosalo angrily looked down at what fell to their feet.

Nolan chanced a peek around the woman. He had to squint through the near-darkness to see anything.

The blanket slowly became bloody, soaking what was seeping out from Marie's stomach wound.

But there was no baby.

Nolan quickly acted, hoping Rosalo didn't spot him.

The priest ran back into the church proper, to where Marie had sat.

The baby Jean Paul was laying just underneath the pew bench, where Marie had now obviously placed him earlier to give him a chance to live.

Nolan scooped the baby up.

There were two ways out of the church: the front doors or the back door. Either way the men who were trying to break in could have been hiding in wait outside.

Or inside.

The one who stabbed poor Marie -- Rosalo, Nolan remembered, vowing not to forget that name and that shadow of a sneer -- was definitely inside, probably finishing her off. Like the woman, Rosalo looked familiar, but then again, all the natives looked the same to Nolan.

Nolan heard the shuffling of feet just before Rosalo entered the church proper. He had to move.

The priest ducked before Rosalo could spot him. He crouch-walked to the back as Rosalo made his way forward. It only took seconds, but Nolan felt as if hours had crawled by.

Nolan couldn't help but imagine the mess Rosalo's long blade was leaving on the floor.

Familiarity of the church's design and luck allowed Nolan to reach the back wall and to slip into the hallway without stirring Rosalo's senses.

In the hallway, Nolan suddenly paused.

Marie.

On the floor.

Not moving.

No sound.

Nolan smelled dirt, sweat, and something else he couldn't identify. Syrupy and pungent.

Nolan wanted to help her, but not with the baby's safety at stake. Besides, what if she was already dead?

His mind raced through possible escape routes.

Not the back door. Other intruders could have been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

Voices filtered throughout the church, prompting Nolan to duck into the tiny kitchen.

It was now obvious to him that Rosalo and his men, however many there were, were now inside. They would undoubtedly check every room for the baby.

Nolan realized the man was probably Jean Paul's father. The thought made the priest shudder. He asked himself why he was out here. Was everything in this town so bleak?

He shook his head of stray thoughts, but doubt lingered like a bloodstain.

The tiny kitchen.

No doors out.

No windows.

And if there was, what would be waiting outside?

There was no exit from the church.

Chapter 7

Out in the jungle, Angelina stirred. She was alone in her tent, but that was true of her entire life until now. She had her eyes closed, praying for sleep, but to no avail. Memories kept her awake. Memories of the village. Of what she lost there. Melancholy mashed with despair made her soul groan. Hope was lost.

But perhaps not . . . .

A hand gently shook her shoulder.

Angelina turned and was met by the old woman's wrinkled face. The old woman smiled and nodded.

"Is it time?" Angelina said through parched lips.

The old woman nodded.

"Good."

If Angelina could have cried, she would have let a tear slip. But, no. No more tears. No more dreams. The end to her sleepless pain would soon be over.

She wondered if the dead dreamed.

***

The men's voices were closer. They were definitely in the hallway now.

Nolan noticed the kitchen wasn't as dark as it should have been.

Light.

Filtering in.

From outside.

The sink!

The sink got its water from a pipe attached to the well outside. The wall holding the pipe held it in the loosest sense. The pipe sat at the bottom of a hole in the wall that was screened to keep bugs and larger vermin out. This hole was large enough for someone of Nolan's stature to squeeze through and the screen could be kicked out rather easily.

But the noise was sure to attract Rosalo and the intruders. Nolan hoped he was quick enough to avoid such attention.

One kick and the wire mesh was laying on the ground.

The men got louder, more alert. They heard the commotion.

Nolan pushed the oddly quiet baby out the hole before him, wary of those who could be waiting. There was either certain death inside the church or possible death outside. He shifted his weight around and slid outside as fast as he could.

He imagined the intruders racing into the kitchen and grabbing his legs.

Or those outside raising their machetes only to bring them down on his neck.

Or onto the baby.

But nothing happened.

Nolan and the baby slipped through before anyone entered the kitchen.

Once outside, Nolan rashly determined to seek the help of the local grocer. The grocery wasn't open this late, but the owner's family lived in the back and were not complete strangers nor ambivalent to his cause in the town. Plus having this baby had to guarantee their help since the grocer's wife was pregnant. Hopefully, she would at least be sympathetic to his need to protect the child.

Nolan's thoughts lingered in the church. The baby's mother, Marie, was still in that gloom, bleeding to death or already dead.

He couldn't help her now.

He took off into the night.

Someone rounded the corner of the church from behind and followed him.

Chapter 8

The town -- squalor was the word. Just another thing that people who lived here had gotten used to. It was something Nolan would never accept. These conditions were deplorable.

The church was probably the only building with anything resembling proper plumbing. When it worked. The church had solid walls and a solid roof, but the money to build it came from outside the town. The homes in town were built out of scraps that the slightly wealthier neighboring city threw to them. The plumbing was an insult. Nolan had to take shallow breaths once outside.

And this town flaunted a bar/brothel as if it was the Taj Mahal!

Nolan wasted a curse to those who allowed these conditions to exist and persist. If he could only provide the other weight to balance things . . . .

Nolan passed an old man sleeping in the doorway of a slanted shack, the old man smelling very much like feces and marijuana, the local drug of choice whenever a local could get some.

Despite his optimism, Nolan knew his mission here was futile. At this moment, he just wanted to get out of town.

***

The frantic pounding woke the grocer.

Cautious, the worn man crept to the front door of his store and looked through the small window set into it.

The American priest.

The grocer paused.

Nolan knocked again.

"Hold on," the grocer said through the wood. His English was decent because of the time he spent in the city a few years ago, meeting with some product distributors. When he wasn't doing that, he was watching a lot of untranslated American sitcoms. He often considered leaving the place of his birth for the city, but here he was important and necessary, not another number.

He turned the dead bolt and Nolan burst in, not waiting for the grocer to greet him.

"Lock it," Nolan demanded.

The grocer took his eyes off the man and the baby he was holding to do so without question. The priest had always seemed level-headed. There must have been a good reason for the man's panic.

"Father," the grocer said. "What is wrong?"

The grocer saw that the baby was a native and gradually realized what was going on before Nolan even spoke. The priest just brought the trouble into his store and home.

"I need to get to the constable," Nolan said. "I can't do that with the baby. Can you watch him?"

Heavy footsteps from outside fell and stopped. Both grocer and priest eyed the door.

"Father. I can not help." The grocer realized that wasn't exactly true and he felt guilty he had said that.

"Please," Nolan plead. "I can't take him any further."

The grocer just shook his head.

The men were outside, the same men who stalked Marie and this child, and they were discussing something in hurried tones. Such a discussion by daylight would not startle. Every sound was sinister at this time of night.

The grocer gestured apologetically to the door. "I want to help," he told Nolan.

The priest understood. The grocer, a local, didn't want to betray his people and bring trouble down onto his home and family. But this baby! And his mother! Nolan knew this wasn't how God wanted it and definitely not the way he wanted it. This wasn't right.

A shuffling from the back set Nolan on edge.

Had the men gotten inside?

The grocer's wife stepped from the back, her hands on her large belly. She took in the scene while asking "What's going on?"

The grocer watched her enter the store, saw her hand on her pregnant belly. He then knew what he had to do despite what the townspeople and his neighbors would think, despite the fear of retaliation from those stalkers. He had to help.

The woman's gaze went from her husband and Nolan to the baby. Her worry turned to excitement as she attended to the child.

"Come," she eagerly told Nolan, ushering him and the bundle of joy into the living area.

The grocer grunted.

The voices outside faded, their sources retreating.

Not satisfied that the threat was over, the grocer went to the front counter and reached over to claim a small, yet brutish club. He had to protect his own family now. They could be fair game for those who hunted the priest and the child.

Back to the front of the store, the grocer waited until dawn.

Chapter 9

The ghost town at night became a sad sight with day. People milled around without destinations or purpose. Dirty kids kicked a soccer ball instead of being in school and worn-down men sat outside their homes instead of working. Despite its meager circumstances, the town could survive on its own. It could also thrive better if its people simple gave a damn and fought for a better existence. However, there would be no fighting here.

Amid this sad scene, between two buildings of equal size and equally questionable quality, the constable's office.

Behind Jacoby was a wall-sized map of the town, surrounding jungle, and mountains as if the land majestically lorded over all.

"And what do you want me to do?" Jacoby asked Nolan.

The priest leaned over to stress his point. "Come with me to the store and take the baby, then go get his mother!"

Jacoby pondered the request for a moment, then smiled. The priest's request was not realistic, at least not in the constable's reality. Jacoby waved his meaty hand at the map behind him. "This may not seem like a large country, but it is."

Nolan knew what he pointed to wasn't the entire country, but allowed the man continue.

"My district alone is more than my few men and I can handle. For me to go with you for this baby and his mother, this is not realistic."

"Not realistic? You're the law here --"

Jacoby chuckled and Nolan realized then that the man was useless.

"Law?" Jacoby said. "I break up fights in the bar. I settle disputes over chickens. There is no law here, Father.

"Let's wait until one of my deputies come in and then we'll head over and get this woman and her baby."

Nolan knew there were no other deputies. Unfortunately, Jacoby was the only law in town.

"A woman is dying and you want to wait?!"

"Father, Father, I understand your concern completely. The mother and her child are going nowhere. The mother may already be dead."

Nolan jabbed his finger at the shortwave radio parked on the file cabinet behind Jacoby. "Just call in for help!"

"That radio is for emergencies. Fires. Mudslides. Not a simple missing woman."

Nolan shot up from his seat.