“Okay,” she said. “So can’t you go up there and bop them on the head or something? I don’t feel like driving along the border all day looking for a clear spot.”
“Sure, Red. You just tell them to put those little rifles down and I’ll do that.”
“Don’t want to shoot them, huh?” She hoped not.
“Shoot them?” Morgan said. “Look, I’m a fighter, but I fight soldiers. These are just kids.”
Felicity smiled and blew a stray stand of hair out of her face. “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to get them to put their guns down.”
10
The young Belizean border guard turned over his hidden king, raked in a handful of his partner’s coins and inhaled deeply on his cigarette. Victor pushed his cap back on his head, too weary to even be angry about losing.
Their little shack stood to the side of a road not quite wide enough to allow two vehicles to cross. Not that it mattered, Victor thought. Most of the people they had seen in the last week were riding behind animals, not engines.
His thoughts were suddenly shattered by a piercing scream. The two guards leaped to their feet, yanking the charging handles of their AKM’s. They looked at each other, their hearts pounding. Victor, the younger man, jerked his head toward the dirt trail that led up to their post next to the border. His nineteen-year-old partner slowly stepped down the path, a little way into Belize. Twenty meters away he turned to face the border, smiling, and waved his partner ahead.
A tall, fair-skinned woman lay sprawled in the road face down, just around the first narrow bend. One leg was curled up, her ragged gown almost, but not quite, revealing the tender flesh of her perfectly rounded buttocks.
The border guards circled their discovery cautiously. The red-haired woman lifted her head, licked her dry lips, and raised one hand in a silent request for help. The two young men broke into broad smiles, but took no action.
“They, they left me here, all alone,” she said, exhaustion showing on her face. “Please, would you help me up?”
“Oh, we’ll be glad to help you,” the older guard said, setting his rifle aside. “Keep her covered,” he told his partner. Barely able to keep a straight face, Victor pointed his shaking rifle at her bosom. The other took her arm, drawing her to him. Artlessly, he pressed his mouth to hers. Clearly sensing no resistance, he started trailing sloppy kisses down her throat, headed for her breasts.
Felicity tolerated the drool on her flesh, keeping her eyes on the other border guard. The little twerp was watching the show with obvious pleasure, until a black man wearing camouflage fatigues took one long step out of the jungle and landed a solid left cross on his jaw. The other guard turned just in time to see his partner collapse like an empty uniform into the sand. Morgan grabbed the second guard’s shoulder, continuing his spin into the stiffened fingers of Morgan’s right hand.
“And you didn’t think it would work.” She began brushing herself off.
“I didn’t think anybody could be that dumb.”
Morgan dragged the unconscious guards into the brush off the side of the road while Felicity brought the truck forward. Morgan got back behind the steering wheel and they continued north.
Felicity couldn’t say that Mexico looked different from Belize, but she was somehow more comfortable after they crossed the border. Barely out of sight of the little guard shack, Morgan pulled onto a two-lane blacktop. A few minutes later they were on an actual highway. The old truck had more power than she expected, and Morgan kept it moving over sixty miles per hour. The familiar whine of the tires on a real road made her situation seem less foreign. Felicity leaned away from the breeze coming in her open window and her head settled onto Morgan’s shoulder. She was surprised at how natural it seemed. He was whistling a tune she wasn’t sure she recognized.
“Hey Red, check this out.”
Felicity’s eyes snapped open and she jerked upright.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We’re tooling through the Yucatan, headed north on Route 261,” Morgan said. “Now look out my window quick, or you’ll miss it.”
Felicity stared past Morgan, but saw only the jungle she had been looking at all day. Then her eyes wandered to the top of the tree line, and she saw what at first looked like a gold tower thrusting up into the clear azure blue of the sky. It was, on closer inspection, a chunky stone structure almost twice as tall as the trees. It resembled a giant layer cake, but with dozens of layers, each one smaller than the one beneath it.
“Oh, my. What are those? Pyramids?”
“Very good,” Morgan said. “Those are the ruins of Uxmal, one of the best known Mayan cities. It’s quite the tourist attraction and one good reason to visit the Yucatan. That big one is called the Pyramid of the Magician. If you dig that kind of thing, there’s a hotel right up here on the right.”
Felicity dragged her fingers through her snarled hair. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll put off sightseeing until we get someplace where I can get some cash in my hand, and after I’ve had a chance to settle into a long, hot bath, okay?”
Morgan shrugged. “Sure, kid. We’re still a good fifty miles south of Merida. But you’re missing some cool columns, temples, and an ancient cemetery, not to mention the good old temple of the phallus.”
“You’re making it up, now,” she said, giggling as she craned her neck to watch the ruins pass out the back window.
“Who’d make up a thing like that?”
Felicity sat back in her corner of the truck’s dusty cab and pulled her left foot up onto the seat so she could watch Morgan more closely. “So, you fancy yourself a tour guide as well. Well, since you’d never make anything up to fool a poor girl like myself, why don’t you tell me a bit more about this job you were on?”
“Tell you what,” Morgan said. “I’ll tell you how I ended up in Belize if you’ll tell me a bit more about how you did.”
“You’ll show me yours if I’ll show you mine, eh? Well, fair’s fair.”
For the next few minutes they exchanged personal stories, but their conversation did not stray beyond the events that directly led up to their meeting in the jungle.
About a half- hour after passing Uxmal they came within sight of the Hacienda Yaxcopoil, which Morgan explained was a seventeenth century estate and another popular tourist stop. Not long after that they rolled into recognizable suburbs and appeared to have left the third world far behind. Felicity made it one-forty p.m. when they motored into Merida, the major city in the southeast corner of Mexico complete with wide, clean streets and snarled urban traffic.
“You know, I love Acapulco,” Felicity said. “People call it the Riviera of Mexico, but there isn’t much there beyond perfect beaches. This place is much bigger and a lot more urban.”
“Yeah and noisy as hell,” Morgan said. “Now you want to find a hotel?”
“What I really want is that haven for lost Yank travelers, the American Express office.”
They had entered the city on a main street and soon spotted an information booth. Felicity jumped out of the truck and in the time it took Morgan to sit through a single streetlight change she was back with good news.
“The American Express office is dead ahead on Calle 60,” she said as Morgan pulled through the intersection. “It’s at the north end of the city. Let’s get going.”
But after a morning at highway speeds they seemed to be crawling now, through a city as congested as Paris or London. Most of the cars there were older, but drivers leaned on their horns as much as anyplace she had been. On the way they passed some lovely parks and one impressive church, but Felicity was focused on their objective. She bounced impatiently in her seat and, when traffic stopped them half a block away from the American Express sign, frustration overwhelmed her. Morgan’s jaw dropped when she popped her door open.