lover.”
“Is it true?” she asks. If only she had a pen and paper.
“This man I speak of, he used to come across the border from Texas on Thursday afternoons. When I was at work.”
“Is that a yes or is that a no?”
“It was wrong for him to come across the border and do what he did to my wife.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“What are you in for, Renata?” he asks. “If you don’t mind?”
“I write books,” she said.
He laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
“Good material here,” he says.
She smiles, although he cannot see her smiling.
Just then there is the sound of a lock being unlocked and a metal door swinging open as hard leather soles shuffle on concrete. There is the sound of chains and keys rattling and shaking.
They are coming for her. She has no way of knowing for certain, but then, she can feel it like a lump in her chest.
“Miss,” the invisible man says, his voice now urgent. “Here they come. Do not talk. Just do what they tell you.
She feels her heart beating suddenly as she slides back against the far wall, knees tucked up into her chest. She sees them then. Three men. Two soldiers. Perhaps the same two who brought her in here from the desert. Standing in between the men is the mustached man also from the desert. He is still dressed in his black suit. The soldier to his left is holding a plastic tray containing a plate of food and water. The soldier to his right holds an identical tray that supports something else entirely. A syringe and a vial containing a clear liquid.
The mustached man calls out for the guard to open the door. “Numero dos!” he shouts.
An electronic buzzer sounds and the gate slides open.
The mustached man steps in. The soldiers follow.
“Are you hungry, Ms. Barnes?”
She stares at him, stone-faced.
“I must apologize for the way you’ve been treated.”
“Don’t bother” she says, feeling her teeth begin to chatter.
He crouches, meets her eye to eye, his face so close to hers she can smell his Bay Rum aftershave.
“If it is any consolation,” he says, “I spared your life out there in the desert. Running drugs, as you know, is a serious crime in this part of the world.”
“Is it?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know.
“I’d like to go on sparing your life,” he says, “so long as you cooperate with me.”
She breathes in and out. Twice.
“What is it you’d like for me to do?”
He reaches out with his right hand, gently fingers the zipper on her leather jumper.
“Answer some simple questions.”
She slaps his hand away. “Touch me again,” she says, “and I’ll find a way to kill you.”
He stands.
His face is serious, with heavy, black-and-blue bags under each eye, creases in the tan skin that covers his cheeks and forehead.
“Take away the food,” he says to the soldier on his left, who immediately walks out with the tray. Then, to the second soldier, on his right: “Shoot her up. It’ll help clear her mind”
The soldier to his right takes the syringe and vial in one hand and, with the other, sets the tray down on the floor.
“Don’t you touch me with that thing,” she screams, shuffling back quick into the corner.
The mustached man approaches her, grabs her by the feet. “Your resistance is nothing to us,” he says. “As is your life.”
The second soldier is sticking the needle into the vial, pulling back on the syringe, sucking the liquid up.
“Get away from me!” she screams, trying to kick. But he’s got her tight by the legs.
“Just stick it through her clothing” he orders the soldier.
The soldier holds the syringe up at chest height. He depresses it just enough to allow a bit of the clear liquid to spray out. He comes for her.
“No, goddammit, no!” she screams again.
“Just do what they tell you to do!” shouts an invisible Roberto .
Chapter 9
You want to know what sleep was like for me? Let’s just say I hadn’t slept well in years. Not for lack of trying. Drink,
“Is it true?” she asks. If only she had a pen and paper.
“This man I speak of, he used to come across the border from Texas on Thursday afternoons. When I was at work.”
“Is that a yes or is that a no?”
“It was wrong for him to come across the border and do what he did to my wife.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“What are you in for, Renata?” he asks. “If you don’t mind?”
“I write books,” she said.
He laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
“Good material here,” he says.
She smiles, although he cannot see her smiling.
Just then there is the sound of a lock being unlocked and a metal door swinging open as hard leather soles shuffle on concrete. There is the sound of chains and keys rattling and shaking.
They are coming for her. She has no way of knowing for certain, but then, she can feel it like a lump in her chest.
“Miss,” the invisible man says, his voice now urgent. “Here they come. Do not talk. Just do what they tell you.
She feels her heart beating suddenly as she slides back against the far wall, knees tucked up into her chest. She sees them then. Three men. Two soldiers. Perhaps the same two who brought her in here from the desert. Standing in between the men is the mustached man also from the desert. He is still dressed in his black suit. The soldier to his left is holding a plastic tray containing a plate of food and water. The soldier to his right holds an identical tray that supports something else entirely. A syringe and a vial containing a clear liquid.
The mustached man calls out for the guard to open the door. “Numero dos!” he shouts.
An electronic buzzer sounds and the gate slides open.
The mustached man steps in. The soldiers follow.
“Are you hungry, Ms. Barnes?”
She stares at him, stone-faced.
“I must apologize for the way you’ve been treated.”
“Don’t bother” she says, feeling her teeth begin to chatter.
He crouches, meets her eye to eye, his face so close to hers she can smell his Bay Rum aftershave.
“If it is any consolation,” he says, “I spared your life out there in the desert. Running drugs, as you know, is a serious crime in this part of the world.”
“Is it?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know.
“I’d like to go on sparing your life,” he says, “so long as you cooperate with me.”
She breathes in and out. Twice.
“What is it you’d like for me to do?”
He reaches out with his right hand, gently fingers the zipper on her leather jumper.
“Answer some simple questions.”
She slaps his hand away. “Touch me again,” she says, “and I’ll find a way to kill you.”
He stands.
His face is serious, with heavy, black-and-blue bags under each eye, creases in the tan skin that covers his cheeks and forehead.
“Take away the food,” he says to the soldier on his left, who immediately walks out with the tray. Then, to the second soldier, on his right: “Shoot her up. It’ll help clear her mind”
The soldier to his right takes the syringe and vial in one hand and, with the other, sets the tray down on the floor.
“Don’t you touch me with that thing,” she screams, shuffling back quick into the corner.
The mustached man approaches her, grabs her by the feet. “Your resistance is nothing to us,” he says. “As is your life.”
The second soldier is sticking the needle into the vial, pulling back on the syringe, sucking the liquid up.
“Get away from me!” she screams, trying to kick. But he’s got her tight by the legs.
“Just stick it through her clothing” he orders the soldier.
The soldier holds the syringe up at chest height. He depresses it just enough to allow a bit of the clear liquid to spray out. He comes for her.
“No, goddammit, no!” she screams again.
“Just do what they tell you to do!” shouts an invisible Roberto .
Chapter 9
You want to know what sleep was like for me? Let’s just say I hadn’t slept well in years. Not for lack of trying. Drink,
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