Two days later, Barney's eyes opened to see the barrel of a magnum pointed directly at them.
"He knows nothing," Estomago said. "Let us end this charade now and be done with it."
"Hey, I've got an idea," Gloria said. "Want to have some fun with him before he goes?"
"Fun. You always think of fun."
"No, really. This'll be a gas." She whispered into Estomago's ear.
He laughed. "Why not?" he said, tucking the magnum back into his thigh holster. "It will be amusing for the men."
He shook Barney out of the fog that had come back to reclaim him. "You. Get up. You are free."
"Free?" Barney said, not sure what the word meant.
The soldiers unbound his wrists and led him, wobbling, to the grounds outside the hut. There they tied another length of rope around one arm, this time a longer, thinner one.
"You will perform the ritual of the bat," Estomago said. "For it, you will fight a man while blindfolded and bound to him by this length of rope. If you kill him, you will be set free."
"Fight," Barney mumbled, looking vaguely at the red gashes on his stomach which had already filled up with pus.
The blonde woman giggled. "Find him someone cute to fight, honey. That'll make it more interesting."
Estomago pointed to the young recruit with the sad eyes. "Him?"
"Perfect."
He signalled the boy to advance. Silently he came into the circle where Barney waited, weaving unsteadily on his feet. The boy's arm was tied to the rope. Blindfolds were placed on both men.
"Here are the knives," Estomago announced, placing a curved killing knife in each of their hands. "When I give the command, the two of you will fight to the death." He turned to one of the soldiers. "Get your rifle ready," he said quietly. "If the American should win by a freak accident, I do not want him to leave alive."
"Yes sir." The soldier obeyed, disengaging the safety catch on his rifle.
"Very well," Estomago shouted. "Begin!"
In a crouch, the boy circled Barney, who poked hesitantly at the air. The crowd laughed.
"Hsss!" the boy whispered. "This way." He led Barney to the edge of the circle. The spectators cleared the way. He slashed at Barney, narrowly missing him, even though Barney could barely walk.
"That boy fights almost as poorly as the American," Estomago said, his belly shaking with mirth.
The boy slashed again, this time falling to the ground and rolling close to the jungle edge.
"Birds," Barney said.
"We are close to the forest," the boy whispered. "Pretend to fight me. I will take you out of here." He cut into the air again and inched closer to the edge of the clearing.
Barney fell.
"Kill him, kill him!" the women in the crowd shouted.
The boy lunged. "Get up. Quickly. Hurry. It is time."
Barney scrambled to his feet as the crowd crooned with excitement. "Perhaps he will give us a show, after all," Estomago said. "But you are both too far away for us to see well," he shouted to the two men. "Come back this way."
"Now," the boy said, tearing off his blindfold and Barney's. "Try to keep up with me." He sprinted through the jungle like a gazelle on his long young legs while Barney dragged behind, the rope forcing him to keep pace. "Come." Two shots rang out behind them.
Branches tore at Barney's open wounds. Each step burned his damaged feet like hot coals. His broken hands could barely hold the knife, but he knew he must hold it. He knew nothing any more, remembered nothing except that this boy was a friend and that he had to hold on to the knife and run, run as he had never run before.
The boy cut the rope between them. "I know a small clearing not far from here," he said. "You can rest there, and drink good water to make you well." He pushed Barney ahead.
At the clearing, where a small waterfall fed into a stream from underground caves, they stopped. "Do not drink yet," the boy said. "We will wait in the cave for nightfall. Estomago's men are not far behind."
Barney opened and shut his eyes to try to clear his head. Everything was filmy, unreal.
"Trust me," the boy said as he pulled Barney into a small cave to wait.
It was damp in the cave, and Barney's cramped position hurt his burns, but the boy had said to trust him, so he trusted him. In time, he slept while the boy watched and guarded.
He shook Barney awake. "Come. It is time for us to leave."
"Wait," Barney said, touching the boy's arm. "Why are you helping me?"
The boy looked at him with his sad, dark eyes. "Denise Saravena was my friend," he said. "After my mother died, Denise brought us food until I was old enough to join the army."
"Who is Denise?" Barney asked.
After a moment, the boy said, "Let us wash your wounds and drink at the waterfall. Then we must go. I know a small mountain village north of Puerta del Rey where we will be welcome."
They drank at the foot of the waterfall. Barney let the cold water run over his bare feet and stomach, washing away the putrefaction that had begun to develop in the burns.
It felt good. Barney's head began to clear. He tore his shirt to make a bandage for his hand so that he could hold the knife better. He tore off strips of cloth to cover his feet. As he was splashing water over his head and neck, the boy whirled around, his knife poised for throwing.
Out of the forest ambled a chimpanzee, chattering and running in a zigzag. The boy sighed.
"You know what you're doing with that knife," Barney said, relieved.
The boy lay on his stomach to drink. "No man knows more than the jungle," he said. He waded into the water to wash. Then the shot came and sent the boy sprawling into the mud at the other side of the stream, a hole the size of a grapefruit in his back, his thin legs twitching for a moment before he lay still.
Barney saw the soldier before he had a chance to turn around, so by the time he turned, his knife was already spinning in the air and came to rest with a thwack in the soldier's chest. The chimpanzee at the other end of the stream screamed and scurried noisily into the jungle as Barney scrambled back into the cave. Moments later, when the other soldiers appeared, they followed the noise of the chimpanzee. And Barney was safe to look on the lifeless form of his friend, a boy young enough to have been his son.
He waited an hour, staring all the while at the dead boy who had saved his life. None of it made any sense to him any more. Strangers come and then they go, and some of them hurt you along the way and some help you. And some even die for you. But why, God, why him? Why not me? I don't remember half my life, and this boy didn't even get to live it. Why didn't you take me instead? he said to himself, as he dug a shallow grave for the boy with a rock beside the stream.
Then, without thinking, without caring, he wandered aimlessly into Puerta del Rey the next morning, stopping to spend a day and a night in a sleazy cafe that served him three bottles of tequila in exchange for his brass belt buckle.
And after the three bottles were empty, Barney felt good for the first time in all the life he could remember. He felt so good that he called a press conference in the middle of town to say that the CIA was bad. The CIA was in Hispania. The chief of police, somebody named Estomago, looked surprised to see him, although Barney didn't know the man from Adam. He didn't want to know anybody. The CIA was here. The CIA was bad. And who the hell cared?
Chapter Fourteen
Smith placed two pieces of paper side by side. One was the front page of the New York Daily News. The headline read:
NATIONWIDE MARCH ON WASHINGTON
Millions of Blacks Protest Murder of Civil Rights Leader Colder Raisin