“Father, look down the driveway. Do you see anything?”
The priest stepped to the side window and searched outside for a moment. “No, nothing there.”
Wilson turned back to the window and watched, chest heaving. In pain, he grabbed the pistol with his left hand and chambered a round with his right, making an audible click. As he did, Father Dan opened the door.
“Father!”
The priest stepped out onto the porch and peered into the woods. Wilson’s heart was about to burst out of his chest. What is he doing?
“Come out. Come out, lad. What do you want?”
“Miguel. Aqui.” Wilson heard the man shout the words from the woods. Could be a bluff, Wilson thought. Who was this guy not in uniform? And speaking Spanish. Not good.
“Come out now. My name is Father Dan. Are ya hungry?”
“Dammit, Father, don’t invite him in!” Wilson said under his breath.
“I won’t, lad. Just sending him on his way,” he murmured back.
Just then Monique drove up. Father Dan and Wilson kept their eyes on the woods to gauge a reaction. When she parked the car, she saw Father Dan on the porch looking into the trees. “Father, what are you doing?”
At that, the man revealed himself and scrambled into the open, 9mm pistol drawn. “Mujer, alto! Aqui, alto!”
Monique shrieked in fright and froze by her car. Wilson watched and waited, heart pounding.
“Monique, it’s okay. Stay where you are,” the priest said with outstretched hand. “This man means us no harm.”
“Donde esta el Americano?” the man demanded. Wilson could see he was muscle: black clothing, close-cropped hair, sunglasses, thin mustache. He looked in the woods for further signs of movement.
“Miguel!” the man shouted, drawing closer to Father Dan, pistol pointed at his head. Monique’s eyes were wide with fear.
“El Americano? Esta en el casa?” the man demanded. Father Dan played dumb.
“I’m sorry. I do not understand. No hablo.”
The man, face now contorted in fury, pointed at the window and fired into the cabin. Bits of broken glass peppered Wilson as he crouched below the window. Monique screamed, and the man bolted to her and grabbed her arm. Her screams continued. “Quíete!” he barked at her, and Monique, eyes wild with fear, was reduced to whimpering as he shoved her around under his tight grip.
“Leave her be!” Father Dan commanded with raised voice, but the man ignored him.
“El hombre! Ahora! Aqui!” he bellowed. Monique was hysterical with fright.
“I don’t know what you mean! Stop hurting her!”
The man fired in the air as Monique screamed in terror under his grasp. “El Americano! Ahora! Miguel!”
Father Dan put out his arms to calm the man who was seething with anger. “I do not have an American. You can look inside,” he said as he motioned to the door and stepped aside so the man could pass. Wilson understood Father Dan was allowing the man inside so Wilson could take a clear shot from his vantage point along the wall.
Father held his hands up to show no threat as he stepped further from the door. With Monique yelping, the man pulled her up the steps as he trained his pistol on Father Dan, who held his hands higher. The man put his left arm around Monique’s shoulders as he pressed against her back. He pushed the open door wide with the muzzle of the gun, and listened. Father Dan remained motionless with his hands up, and the man slowly led Monique inside.
The moment Monique’s torso passed into the room, with her attacker pressed against her back, Wilson fired from three feet away
The bullet entered the man’s right side under his ribs and ripped him away from Monique and slammed him into the door. Monique fainted flat on her face. Wilson grabbed the.9mm and safed it as Father Dan entered the room. The man was dead in a heap on the transom, blood pouring from a gaping would on his left side where the slug had exited and lodged in the door.
“Monique!” the priest cried.
“I had a clear shot, Father. I think she’s okay.”
Father Dan went to Monique and rolled her over. He noticed a knot on her forehead but saw only a spot of blood from a cut lip. Looking back at the man, he saw a growing red stain moving along the seams of the wooden boards to a nearby rug. He got up to move it before the blood ruined it.
“Father, you told a lie,” Wilson said with a relieved smile, still trying to control his breathing.
“Yes, I did, and I’ll have to ask for absolution.”
“A man is dead, an evil man. You helped me save our lives.”
“Who do you think he is?” Father Dan asked.
“Venezuelan agent, maybe a local tough looking for a ransom. And if there are any more out there like ‘Miguel,’ the three gunshots are going to bring them here soon. Can you handle a pistol?”
“Never fired one,” Father Dan said.
“Never, Father?” Wilson said as he rolled his eyes. “Well, you might today.”
“Oh, no, I won’t. I will not do that.”
“We’ll see, Father, because I think we can expect more trouble from more evil men — soon. I’m going to need your help.”
“Well, at my age, I’m not much help.”
“But you can do something, Father, and the time for theory is over. We have to fight.”
Monique stirred, took a look at Wilson, and shrieked.
“Monique, it’s okay. You’re okay,” said Father Dan. “Jim here saved you.”
She looked at the dead man, now lying in a bright red pool of blood, and shrieked again. “Father! We must leave this place!” she pleaded. “More men will return! This American will be the death of us!” She looked at Wilson with trepidation.
“Did you talk to the embassy? Who did you talk to, Monique?” Wilson demanded, beyond impatient with the woman. She recoiled in fear as Wilson continued.
“Who, dammit? Who did you talk to and what did they say?”
“I talked with a woman… and told her you were here. She said they would come for you today,”
“Well, the day is almost over! What was her name?”
“Ms. Dove, she said, like the bird!”
“Okay, Ms. Dove. Do you have a cell phone?”
“No, I used the pay phone in town.”
Wilson shook his head in disgust. The whole world had cell phones, except this forsaken place!
“There is no coverage,” Monique added, reading his thoughts.
Wilson exhaled in frustration. The dead man, armed, had been searching for Wilson and would have killed Father Dan and Monique once Wilson had been captured.
“We must move him,” Father Dan volunteered.
Wilson agreed, and, with Father Dan doing most of the work, they were able to cover him and drag him on a sheet to a corner of the room until help arrived. Monique would have no part of it, but provided rags and paper towels for Father Dan to clean up the mess by the front door. The blood would be a permanent stain until the boards could be sanded down.
Wilson had to use the outhouse but decided not to risk going outside. He used, instead, a cooking pot to relieve himself. Monique was shocked and averted her eyes in disgust. Wilson didn’t care.
It was nearing 5 p.m. “Father, we have to watch,” Wilson said as he peered outside. Nothing in the driveway. Nothing in the woods.
As Wilson turned from the window, a pane of glass exploded next to him.