Survival (16 page)

Chapter 23

Antonio Salguero, Colombia

Luis led Matt and Hannah through the muddy lane that served as the main drag of the rural hamlet of Antonio Salguero. Most of the homes were little more than shacks built from rough timbers hewn from the native trees, single-story affairs all badly in need of paint. Luis pointed out a bar and the hut next to it that served as one of the town’s restaurants, as well as another building, the only cinderblock building in sight – a market, which featured a corroded sign advertising the local beer and a stack of blue plastic five-gallon water bottles in a dusty rack outside the front entrance. A few yards behind it, the brown water of a river swirled and rushed past, the town’s principal source of food.

A group of small children ran screaming after a mud-smeared ball in the middle of the road, smiles of delight on their faces that changed to frank curiosity when they saw Matt and Hannah approach, Hannah perched on Matt’s shoulders like a princess riding an elephant to her coronation. They stopped their impromptu game and stared at the apparition, as unexpected as if the little Caucasian girl had landed in a flying saucer.

Luis introduced Matt to a few neighbors who were sitting on upended crates in front of their dwellings, whose doors and windows were flung open wide for ventilation as the sky’s purple and blue transitioned to burnt orange and red, streaks of high clouds marbling the sunset as night approached.

The other fishermen split off at a junction, Luis and Matt plodding right, they going left. Luis waved to friends of his working on some sort of fish trap next to one of the larger buildings as they lugged the bags to a modest home at the end of the way. Luis eyed them when they arrived at the house, and shrugged apologetically.

“I told you it was a simple place,” he said. “But we have electricity, running water provided by the cistern on the roof, and mosquito netting on the windows, so you won’t catch dengue or malaria.”

“That’s fine, Luis. We’re not expecting a palace.”

Two brindled dogs ran out the front door and loped to Luis, tails wagging at his arrival. He set Matt’s bag down and knelt near what passed for his porch and petted them, hugging them both and murmuring in their ears. Expressions of pure adoration beamed from their canine smiles, and then he released them and they moved cautiously to Matt, who lowered Hannah down and set her on her feet. The dogs sniffed them, and the youngest of the pair licked Hannah’s face with a wet slurp, causing her to giggle and try to pull his ear. Matt could see they were used to young children, because he suffered the abuse without protest and the second dog joined in the lick fest.

“That’s Oscar and Sammy. They’re good boys. Very friendly,” Luis said, and looked up when a slim woman in her twenties filled the doorway. He stood and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek, but her eyes never left Matt and Hannah. Matt saw that she was still somewhat of a beauty, high cheekbones and raven black hair pulled back into a tight bun, a light sheen of perspiration on her face shining in what remained of the daylight. “This is my wife, Carlita.” He gave her a smile. “Carlita, this is Tom and Hannah.”

She stepped forward, a shy look in her eyes, and shook Matt’s hand before kneeling down and shaking Hannah’s. She looked up at Matt with a smile. “She’s gorgeous. You’re a very lucky man, Tom,” she said.

“Thank you. I am.”

“Carlita, I invited them to stay with us for a day or two, in the extra room,” Luis said, and after giving her a pointed stare, moved into the house. He looked over his shoulder at Matt. “Will you excuse us for a minute?”

“Sure. We’ll just enjoy the evening,” Matt said, understanding that he needed to explain the situation to his wife in private. Matt suspected Luis didn’t appear from his fishing trips with gringo guests regularly, so it would take some discussion for Carlita to get used to the idea of strangers in the house.

Hannah was fully occupied by the dogs, who had taken an instant liking to her and were lavishing her with attention as she played with them, running a few feet and being chased by the pair before exploding in peals of laughter. Matt was glad to see she wasn’t limping too badly, and for a moment, at least, had forgotten about her blistered feet. His, on the other hand, felt like someone had poured liquid fire on them, and his first project after a shower was going to be to coat them with antiseptic so they didn’t get infected.

The thought of a shower led his eyes to the black plastic cistern on the roof, which he guessed refilled automatically with the regular rain. He glanced around the dirt street at the few cars, all of them badly rusting, Japanese economy sedans from the sixties and seventies that should have gone into a crusher twenty years ago. He was accustomed to poverty from his time in Thailand and Laos, but even so, this was about as bad as he’d seen outside of the most remote hill tribes in those impoverished lands.

A man in the next house came outside and smiled at Matt in greeting. “
Buenas tardes
,” he said, as if he’d known Matt for a decade.

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” Matt replied in Spanish, waiting for Luis to return.

“That it is. You a friend of Luis’?”

“Yes,” Matt said, not elaborating.

“Cool out tonight. Probably will rain later,” the neighbor said.

Matt nodded noncommittally – if this was cool, he didn’t want to know what hot nights were like in the Colombian jungle town. “Could be.”

Matt was spared more small talk by Carlita and Luis’ return. Carlita was all smiles, Luis having no doubt explained the financial windfall their stay meant to the little family. Two small faces peeked around their legs from the interior of the house, and Luis patted the little boys’ heads.

“These are my sons. This is Baco, and the little one is Miguel.”

Matt smiled, and Hannah eyed the little boys curiously, as they did in return.

Carlita cleared her throat. “Luis tells me you’ve had a rough couple of days. Come. Let’s get your things inside, and I’ll show you to your room. I’m sorry it’s not more than it is…”

“Lead the way.” He turned to Hannah. “Hannah? Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

She tottered over to him as he hefted the bags, the dogs following like guardians. Carlita led them through the main room, its simple furniture made from the same wood as the house, to a bedroom at the back, ten feet square, with a mattress on the floor. To Matt, after a night in a lifeboat and another swatting at bugs in a tent, it looked like the honeymoon suite at the Ritz.

“I told you it’s nothing to brag about,” Luis said from behind him.

“And here is the bathroom,” Carlita said, swinging a door open. Matt glanced inside and was surprised that it was not only clean but had a shiny linoleum floor.

“I built it myself,” Luis said with pride. “All that time in construction taught me a thing or two about plumbing and finishes.”

Matt eyed the bathroom and smiled. “It’s perfect. In fact, my first action is going to be to wash Hannah and myself off. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“There’s soap in the shower. I’ll get you some towels,” Carlita said as Luis sniffed the air.

“Mmm,” Luis said. “Smells like stew of some kind. Carlita is the best cook in the world. You’re in for a treat.”

Matt, who hadn’t had anything but dry survival rations for two days, was suddenly starving, his mouth watering at the mention of stew. “Great. Give us twenty minutes and we’ll be there,” he said as Carlita reappeared with two towels.

Once Hannah was scrubbed clean, he fitted her with fresh clothes and did a fast rinse himself. The trickle of water from the showerhead never felt better, and when he emerged from the bedroom carrying Hannah in one arm, her shoes, socks, and a tube of ointment in the other, he felt human again.

Carlita was in the kitchen, moving between pots and pans. The two little boys were playing on the clay tile floor, which mostly consisted of the older one tickling the younger one and making faces while the one-year-old laughed. Matt moved to the sofa, which appeared to be older than he was, and sat down with Hannah on his lap. Carlita watched as he dabbed ointment on her feet and carefully rolled her socks on, assuring her in a soft voice that she was very brave and they’d feel better soon.

“You’re really good with her,” Carlita said. “That’s touching to see.”

“She’s had a bad time of it. But she’ll heal. Kids do.”

“What happened to your hand?”

“I broke it in a fall. It was stupid. I should have known better.”

Carlita sighed as she stirred something that smelled delectable. “Luis is more traditional. He hunts and fishes and leaves the children to me.” She gave him a smile, and he noted again that she had a quiet beauty. Something flashed in her eyes, and he looked away. “It’s good to see a man who isn’t afraid to be gentle.”

Matt wasn’t sure, but was Luis’ wife flirting with him? If so, he wanted no part of it. He was lucky the fisherman had agreed to give them shelter, and the last thing he wanted to do was rock any boats.

His speculation was interrupted by Luis emerging from his bedroom wearing a colorful shirt and a pair of jeans. He walked into the kitchen, sniffed at the pots, and gave Carlita a kiss on the back of her neck before moving into the living area and sitting on the floor with his boys. The dogs trotted over and nudged him, everyone wanting attention. As Matt watched Luis, he thought that he looked like a truly happy man. Would that someday Matt would have his family gathered around him in a safe place, maybe a dog or two to warm his feet, enjoying the simple pleasures of companionship and love.

Carlita announced that dinner was ready, and everyone took their places at the dinner table, a slab built from planks and held together by heavy iron nails. The meal was extraordinary, a fish stew with a dizzying variety of spices and vegetables, and by the time he was finished, Matt had eaten so much he felt like he could barely walk. Even Hannah, usually finicky, slurped down her whole bowl with some help from Matt, and when dinner was over, the large pot of stew had been drained.

Conversation revolved around the chickens Carlita and Luis raised and sold to a distributor who dealt with restaurants in the larger towns. Apparently it was a competitive business, nothing ever certain, the prices rising and falling as supply and demand waxed and waned.

Once the table was cleared, Luis rose, stretched his arms over his head, and regarded Matt. “I’m going to the bar with some of my friends for a beer. You want to come?”

Matt shook his head. “Thanks, Luis, but no. I’m tired. Maybe some other time.”

Carlita glanced at Hannah. “If you want to go, I can watch your daughter.”

“No, I’ll stay in tonight.”

“You sure?” Luis said. “The beer’s always really cold.”

“That’s good to know. Maybe tomorrow?”

Luis shrugged. “Okay.” He glanced at his wife. “I’ll be back later.”

A pot clattered in the sink as she rinsed it. “Not too late, please, Luis.”

He waved a hand at her and furrowed his brow. “Don’t worry.”

When he left, the two dogs trailing him down the muddy way, Matt saw Carlita watching him through the open window, a sad expression on her face. As if sensing his scrutiny, she turned to him and offered a pout. “Another night alone with the boys,” she said, and went back to her chores.

Matt didn’t require a long explanation to understand the dynamic that was likely the norm in their little household, but it was none of his business. Everyone had to carve what life they could out of their circumstances. He was in no position to pass judgment.

“Good night, Carlita. Thanks for the wonderful hospitality. I’ll never forget that dinner,” he said, rising and reaching out his hand to Hannah. He thought Carlita looked sad when she glanced over at him.

“Sleep well, Tom. And you too, Hannah.”

Chapter 24

Colón, Panama

Jet returned to the bar where she’d met the two scumbags and took a seat at the counter. The bartender saw her and came over, a surprised look on his face.

“Nice to see you again,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“What’ll you have?”

“A Panama,” she said.

“Coming right up.”

He turned back to her with the beer and set it down on the bar. “Anything else?”

She leaned forward after glancing to either side. “I need to find someone who can help a friend of mine get to Colombia.”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed. “There are plenty of flights. The ferry. Lots of options.”

“He wants something more…private.”

A loud voice to her right called for a rum and coke, and the bartender looked over and frowned. “Let me think about it.”

When he came back a few minutes later, he had a slip of paper in his hand. “That’s the name of a bar in Portobelo. It’s about twenty miles east of Colón. It’s a rough place, but that’s where the captains hang out. Ask for Juan Diego. Tell him Paco sent you.” He studied her. “Did those two try anything?”

She fought the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth and took a single sip of beer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His eyes flitted to her top and then back to her face. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

She slipped a twenty across the bar to him. “You never saw me. Thanks for the tip.”

He palmed the bill with the dexterity of a magician, glanced around the bar again, and then fixed her with a playful expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They both smiled at the same time. “See you around.”

He watched her walk out of the bar and shook his head as he muttered to himself. “I highly doubt it.”

Finding her way to Portobelo was more of a challenge than she had bargained for at the late hour. Two of the taxis she flagged down refused the fare, and the driver that finally agreed looked at her like she was mad. She tossed her bag into the backseat and slid in, checking her watch as she did so: 10:40.

“How long will it take to get there?” she asked.