Olivia screamed and dropped Salvador. Before his head hit the ground, it was already hidden by leaves and flowers. Olivia was able to stagger only a few steps away from the car before falling.
I knelt beside her to search her pockets for the car keys. She was still twitching and moaning as I patted her down. One of her mossy hands clutched at my lapel. I don’t know whether it was meant as an attack, or as an entreaty. Her head lifted up a little from the ground and she made wounded-chimp noises, as though trying to speak.
“Lola figured you’d end up this way, and I’d say you deserved it.” Olivia went limp and her hand fell away from my coat. “But I feel a little sorry for you anyway,” because, dammit, I still sort of liked her.
When I finally found the keys, I picked up the gun she had dropped and went back to the car, intending to close the case first before loading up on ammo. But I was stopped by a rustling sound. There, fluttering among the flowers blooming around Salvador’s skull, was a Double-N ticket. It took a few seconds before the significance sunk in. He had a ticket. He had a goddamned Double-N ticket, and they made him a reaper. Seeing that only made me angrier than I already had been; but, now that I knew about his ticket, Salvador finally made sense to me. Now I understood why he never seemed to fit the shape of the world.
I picked up Salvador’s ticket and put it in my pocket. Turning toward the suitcase, I spotted my gun on the ground next to it. I closed the case, opened the trunk of the car, and put it inside. I tucked Olivia’s gun into my shoulder holster, loaded my gun with Salvador’s ammo, and stuffed as many rounds as I could into my pockets. With my lousy aim I was sure I’d need them.
I went back up to the greenhouse. I didn’t even think about going inside. I crept around the perimeter, looking for a protective position to shoot from, where I could cover the entrance in case Hector tried to run for it. There was a little hillock off to one side. It seemed like a good enough spot. I could duck down behind it, and I could see most of the interior of the greenhouse from that position. Problem was, Hector was over at the far end of the building. I needed him closer.
“Hey, Hector,” I muttered to myself, “come over here so I can sprout you. Yeah, that’d work.”
What I needed was some way of getting him to move to my side of the greenhouse without giving myself away. Throwing pebbles or something against the glass ought to do it, I thought. I rooted around, feeling for something small and hard to toss. I came up with somebody’s arm. I worked it free from the vegetation and brushed the dirt off. Then I stopped and stared in disbelief. I picked up a little clump and held it up in the light coming from inside the greenhouse. The small, gritty lump was dark and moist. I sniffed it. It was dirt. Not the usual sand or dust of the Land of the Dead, but honest-to-goodness soil.
“How long has this meadow been here, anyway?” I asked myself in astonishment and disgust.
I tossed away the piece of dirt and picked up the arm again. I was about to pull the hand apart for the finger and wrist bones, but I stopped again for a few seconds. Would the owner of the hand feel what I was going to do? It depended on what really happened to a soul who was sprouted.
“Well, man… or ma’am… if you’re here in any way, I’m sorry about this, but I need your hand if I’m gonna put Hector out of business.” I steeled myself and took the hand apart. When I had all the little bones in a loose jumble, I stood up and threw them at the greenhouse as hard as I could. I ducked down and peeked over the top of the hillock.
Hector was moving toward my side of the greenhouse. He peered through the glass. “Olivia?” he called out, his voice muffled by the glass wall. “Who’s out there?”
I raised my gun and took aim. “I’m the grim reaper, lard ass!” I shouted as I squeezed the trigger. Glass shattered and Hector went down. But then he sprang back up, gun in hand. I had missed again, dammit.
“Shouldn’t you be a patch of posies by now?” he shouted back, incredulous.
I answered by firing again.
“Nice try,” he said, shooting back, but I had already flattened myself behind the hillock.
When he stopped firing, I peered over the top. Hector was half hidden behind a table, trying to see into the darkness.
I got off another round. “That’s for Salvador,” I screamed. I fired again. “That’s for the crew of the SS Lola!” And again. “And that’s for Lola herself!”
“Who’s Lo—” Hector began as I aimed way above his head and fired once more.
He never finished the question.
Hector screamed and fell and I waited, crouching behind my hillock. The screams continued, and he didn’t get up again. I cautiously went to the doors and crept inside, staying down behind tables in case he was still able to shoot. Hector’s voice rose in pitch until he sounded like a little girl, a little girl being tortured and mutilated. And I was the one who had made him sound like that. I can’t say it was my proudest moment.
When I got to where I could see him clearly again, I found Hector on his back, convulsing violently and hammering his skull against the cement floor. He was rapidly turning in to a large shrub. Flowers bloomed, swelled into fruit, ripened and dropped off in wet splats all in a few seconds. Gradually, Hector grew still and his wailing faded to a frail whimper. Then silence.
I crossed myself for the first time since childhood.
I went back outside, tossing away my gun, along with Olivia’s and all the spare ammo, as I went down the hill to the car. I picked up Salvador’s head, not sure what to do with it. Not having any better ideas, I took him up to the greenhouse and put him on one of the tables nearest to the doors. Returning to the car, I opened the driver-side door and slid in behind the wheel. I put the key in the ignition and stopped. I hadn’t driven in all the years I’d been in the Land of the Dead. I wondered if I still could. Well, it’d be a long walk if I couldn’t. I started the engine and slowly backed up until I was clear of the meadow. I turned the car around and carefully got back on the road that eventually took me to the highway. Once back in town I drove to the vicinity of Hector’s casino, parked, got the case out of the trunk, and made my way back to LSA headquarters. Pyrrhus returning from the field of battle.
Fallout
When I entered headquarters, waiting there were Eva, Meche, Gunnar, along several other agents who I didn’t know.
“Manny!” Meche exclaimed as she threw herself at me. I dropped the case and held her tight for a few seconds.
When I let go, I said to Eva and the others, “Hector’s gone. You don’t have to worry about him any more.” I picked up the case and put in on a table. “And here are all the tickets Hector stole. The real tickets. All we have to do now is get Meche safely away on the Number Nine.”
The people around me didn’t seem elated. “That’s great,” Eva said, “but we have a problem. No one’s seen Salvador. He didn’t show up at the rendezvous.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I know all about that. Sal… I’m sorry, Eva. Sal’s gone, too.”
Meche turned away, her head bowed. The others looked at each other, uncertain and troubled. Eva walked over to me.
“How did that happen?” she asked, sounding dangerous.
“He was betrayed, we all were. Olivia…” I shrugged helplessly. “But Sal took care of her. He had this tooth, and…” I trailed off.
There were a couple of endless seconds of silence.
“You brought that woman here, Cal,” Eva said, much too quietly for the amount of anger I sensed in her. “We didn’t do a proper check because you vouched for her. And now, because of you, Sal’s—” She broke off and turned away, hugging herself, trying to keep her emotions under control.