2 Minutes to Midnight (11 page)

transistor radio

Alex’s wife is missing in
the jungle, presumed dead, but can her tiny transistor radio lead
the two of them back to each other?

Alex Robins was driving home from work one
afternoon when Sergio Gonzalez, a Bolivian police captain phoned to
inform Alex that his wife, Angela was missing. She had been gone
for about a week on a research trip for a novel she was writing
about an ancient Bolivian fort where, it was rumored, a monster of
paranormal origins lived. The man speaking to Alex had such a thick
South American accent, that it was difficult to understand
everything he said, but Alex got the gist. Sergio explained to Alex
that a man who claimed to be her guide walked into the station, and
reported that while Angela was hiking the Nocivo Trail, in an area
west of Sucre, Bolivia she slipped on loose gravel and plummeted
off the side of a steep drop. Her guide said that he had searched
for her but no body was found, just her backpack. The man told him
that a search was ongoing and she may have walked out through the
jungle before her guide could get to her.
"Sir, is this some kind of joke?"
"No, Señor. No joke."
Terrified for his wife, and in shock, Alex listened as the man on
the other end of the phone explained that his men would find her
soon. Tears ran down his cheeks in rivers of cold, wet pain, and as
Alex listened in distress he narrowly avoided wrecking his beat up
station wagon into a telephone pole.
"Do you have ANY idea where she might be? I mean, there's still a
chance she's alive, right?" Alex said.
"Señor, I'm very sorry I don't have more information. Someone from
my department will call you when we know more. Maybe one or two
days." Sergio said.
"Thank you." Alex hung up. He tossed his phone onto the passenger
seat.
A hole opened in Alex's heart while his mind worked, trying to make
sense out of Angela's mysterious disappearance. As he was driving
home he began to think of the people he had to call and inform. Her
parents had not been fond of him staying in the states while their
daughter had been gallivanting all over Bolivia, but his job had
required him to stay in the states and work. Angela was dead set on
that trip, not because she was writing about Bolivian culture and
ruins, but because the country was home to an ancient fort from
prehistory that was on her bucket list. Alex was not going to try
and stop her from leaving, because Angela was a human tornado, and
if he had tried to step in her way he would have been blown over in
the attempt. After stopping by her parents’ house to break the news
Alex almost immediately regretted doing it in person. Beth, her
mother began to cry and Bill, Angela's father turned purple with
anger blaming Alex for not going with his daughter. A few days went
by and he heard nothing from Sergio or any of the policemen who had
promised him a call, but one day after work he opened the mailbox
and removed a small box wrapped in brown paper. There was no return
address or name.
Alex stared at the box as if any minute a flying saucer was going
to pop out and attack, but nothing happened so he walked into the
house. He unwrapped the package, and inside was the small
transistor radio that Angela's mother had bought her when she was a
little girl. Angela had kept the radio with her on treks into the
unknown when she was researching for her writing, or simply
experiencing what the world had to offer. She had held the radio
with sentimental value, and it was the only piece of his wife that
Alex was able to recover from her trip thus far. Alex rolled the
dial on the radio's side, felt it click on, and then a tiny red
light began to shine on top.
At first he heard static, but as Alex turned the station dial a far
away rock station was playing Angela's favorite song, Stargazer, by
Mother Love Bone. Alex began to sob.
The next day at work Alex ate lunch outside with Tony Barrett, a
long time friend.
"Angela's radio showed up in the mail yesterday, and it still
works," said Alex.
"That's...interesting. I wonder why someone would mail you her
radio?"
"I've got no idea either. The police said her backpack was returned
to them so, you'd think they would have sent the whole thing back."
Alex replied. He was sullen.
"Hey man, I'm really sorry to hear about all of this. You think
maybe you need to take some time off from work? This ain't the most
therapeutic location for grieving lost loved ones, you know what I
mean?"
"Yeah, I hear you, but that house is so damned empty without her.
I'm stuck, man. I don't want to come here, but I don't want to be
at home either." Alex said.
"You need to get out of here for a little while. Seriously, I love
you man, and I'm not trying to be a dick but your bringing everyone
down, and this environment is not healthy for your healing
process." Tony said.
Alex knew he was right, and some time away might be a good idea.
The company had a bereavement policy and he would be able to take a
few weeks off to get his mind right before coming back. After
talking with his boss, who agreed with Tony, Alex went home.
Alex's loneliest time without Angela was at night, when their house
seemed so large it threatened to swallow him. Her ghost was
everywhere, but he suspected she was still alive, somewhere. A
picture of the two hiking in Ashville, North Carolina rested on his
lap, as Alex sat on the back porch drinking one beer after another.
He was listening to a nineties grunge station on her transistor
radio, and drowning his sorrow. Mother Love Bone was playing
Stargazer again, as he spiraled further down the rabbit hole of
self-pity. About a minute into the song he began to hear
static.
"...Stargazer you call the shots, I take all...
sssshhhhhh...Alex
...gazer won't you kick with
me."
Alex held the radio with both hands, staring wide-eyed as music
continued to play, a moment later he heard her again.
"...Stargazer you cry in blue...
sssshhhh...Alex, I'm here...Succccrrrrre
...it
ain't as good as you child."
That was all she said for the rest of the night, even though his
intent eyes stayed transfixed on the radio for another half hour.
Stargazer now had a new meaning, and Alex swore that if he found
his wife alive he'd never let her go alone again. Before he got too
blitzed, Alex booked a flight to Bolivia for the next day, and
packed his bags. The nine beers he had consumed effectively knocked
him out, so that night he slept for the first time since her
disappearance, and dreamed of Angela. In the dream she fell from
the Nocivo Trail over, and over again, but he could see no further.
She dropped out of view, and each time she disappeared he screamed
her name. In this world of nightmares he was a passive observer,
with the camera eye fixed permanently on her final moments. Alex
woke up with tears streaming his cheeks, and rolled over to see
that his alarm clock read four-thirty. His flight would leave in a
few hours so there was no point in going back to sleep. He rolled
out of bed; dressed, and made sure he had everything he needed for
the trip.
After preparing, he sat in his leather chair, laid his head back,
and clicked the small radio on again. There was nothing but static
this time but he continued to listen in the early morning darkness
of their living room. Then he heard Angela as a spectral voice
spoke through the radio.
"...
sssshhhhh...Sucre...sssshhhhh...Sucre
..."
Sucre was the city he would be flying into, and as he heard the
word Alex almost fell out of his chair. Angela's radio went silent.
Alex shook it, and then opened the battery compartment to see if
maybe a battery had corroded, but to his surprise, he saw that
there had never been one in the radio. Goose bumps rose on his arms
as he contemplated how the radio could function without a power
source. Before he could answer this question, his phone alarm went
off and it was time to leave.
When his plane landed Alex hailed a cab and took the first one that
stopped. This cab was a beat up, white Toyota Corolla, with a bad
muffler that backfired when the car stopped.
"Señor can you take me to the nicest hotel you know? Maybe one for
American tourists."
The cab driver was a portly man in his late forties, with a gruff
beard who wore too much cologne. His nameplate read Juan Castillo,
and Alex could see he had a Pearl Jam T-shirt on through the rear
view mirror.
"Sure, sure, you want to go to the Raintree Resort. How long are
you staying?" Juan asked.
"Just for a few days, or until I find my wife. She's missing, so
I'm here to find her."
"That's very brave, man. I commend you, and I hope you find her. My
wife's missing too, but that's because she ran off a few years ago
with my friend Pepe. Women." He shook his head.
Juan dropped Alex at the Raintree Resort, an upscale hotel downtown
grinning as Alex leaned forward to pay him.
"Gracias Señor. Que tengas un buen día!" Juan said.
Alex would find Angela, no matter what it would take, because he
refused to go home without her. The hotel had a beautiful lobby
fountain shaped like a lion, and colorful decor hung from walls of
stucco like Christmas ornaments. Had she been with him it may have
a wonderful vacation from their problems at home, but without
Angela the scene lacked luster. Alex rented a room for the week,
and asked that a bottle of tequila be brought to his room.
"Make that two, please, and charge it to the room," said
Alex.
The front desk attendant looked young, and he had the face of a kid
who has yet to see how hard the world can be. Alex saw something in
his bright, cheery eyes he used to recognize in himself. What was
it, he thought. Hope?
“Yes sir and we sincerely hope you enjoy your stay in
Bolivia!”
By the time Alex got to his room there was a bottle of La Casa Del
Diablo tequila chilling in a bucket by his bed.
"Hello beautiful," he muttered. Alex held the bottle like a trophy,
opened the top, and poured a tall glass. Alex certainly felt as if
he entered the devil’s house with a rough first shot.
He ordered room service while he drank and looked outside his
window to the busy city street below. Since the flight had been
long, and his head was already buzzing from the trip, it did not
take long for Alex to get bombed. He opened his balcony doors and
sat outside listening to the cars go by as his mind relaxed. Alex
turned on his wife’s radio and against all logic and reason; the
music began to play once again. Tonight it was Ozzy Osbourne
singing No More Tears, which caused Alex to chuckle. He could smell
her Sunflowers perfume wafting up to his nostrils, caught on the
night breeze, and when he closed his eyes Angela was there with
him. They were walking together hand in hand through the park near
their house on a cool spring evening. The air felt fresh and sweet
as crickets serenaded their stroll around the lake.
"Come with me to Bolivia, Alex." Angela said. Her pretty eyes
pleading with him.
"I can't get off work for that long. They'll fire me, and jobs are
hard to come by these days."
"My writing pays for our bills, screw your job! Come on, it'll be
fun."
"Next time. I promise."
The disappointment in her eyes haunted him now. Why had he let her
go alone?
I'm losing her, he thought.
"Alex, look for me...follow…music…jungle," she said.
Alex's head snapped forward with a jolt as he woke up. He had been
dozing, and Tesla's What You Give, was now blaring on the tiny
black box. Too drunk and jet lagged to feel anything but tired,
Alex stumbled inside and promptly passed out on top of his covers.
The next morning his head was ringing from the booze, and with no
aspirin it was going to be a long day. The empty bottle of tequila
floated inside his melted ice bucket, and his head hurt more when
he looked at it.
"These are the good times. You don’t get them back." Alex
murmured.
The restaurant downstairs was still serving breakfast so he walked
down and ordered an omelet. While he was waiting, Alex walked over
to the concierge desk to ask if there were any locals available for
hire as a guide. The pockmark faced man behind the counter this
morning was a bit older than the kid he spoke with yesterday,
sported a handlebar moustache, and had a distinctive Z shaped scar
on his right cheek. His nametag read Filipe.
"I need to get into the jungle and back out again once I find my
wife. You know anyone who could help me?" Alex said. Felipe looked
at him with suspicion for a moment.
"Señor, my cousin Jefe might help you. He knows the tribes and
their customs." Felipe said.
"How much will he charge?" Alex asked. Felipe seemed to consider
this question for a moment.
"Where are you going?" Felipe asked.
"I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I have a map that may show
where she is." Answered Alex.
Felipe tilted his head side to side twice and then said,
"I don't know you, but I think in this case we can do it for
seventy-five American dollars per day."
Alex was never much for the barter system, and at this point he
wanted his wife back more than he cared about being gouged for a
guide.
"Agreed, and I'm guessing that could have been higher?" Alex
said.
"Oh, much, but I feel a kind of kinship to you. Go eat your
breakfast my friend and Jefe will be along soon." Felipe looked at
Alex with solemn eyes.
He scheduled a time to meet with Jefe and get started on their
jungle trek, and returned to his table for a plate of freshly
cooked eggs. Twenty minutes later, Alex was finishing his coffee
when a tall, well-built man with chiseled muscles of granite
appeared beside his table.
"Buenos dias, Señor. My name is Jefe. Felipe told me you were
looking for a guide. Do you have the money on you?" Jefe
said.
Alex was at first taken aback by Jefe's size, and soft voice. He
was easily six feet tall, and had a square jaw that looked like it
would take a wrecking ball to smash. At first Alex was unsure if
Felipe's intention was to help, or rob him.
"I've got the money, sure. When can we leave?" Alex said. He hoped
his statement sounded cool and collected, but to his ears it
sounded more like a nervous kid paying the bully protection
money.
"I'm ready now. Felipe said you needed to find your wife, but you
have a map?" Jefe said.
"I do…sort of, but it's a little difficult to explain, and if I try
it won't make sense. I've got enough money to pay you for five
days. My name's Alex, by the way." Alex extended his hand.
"It’s nice to meet you, Alex.” Jefe clapped Alex on the back.
"Don't worry; you look worried. I think it's great what you're
doing, and I'm happy to help you find your wife if I can." He
grinned. Jefe's two front teeth and canines were silver, giving him
the look of a James Bond villain. Alex thought he might never want
to owe this man anything more than a thank you.
Angela's transistor radio began broadcasting static as the two men
walked out into the bright sunlight of a beautiful day. Jefe
nodded.
"That's not your map is it?"
"Yeah, told you wouldn't make sense." Alex replied.
"My friend, it's your money." Jefe shook his head.
Jefe drove them in his pickup truck through the city and into the
jungle. They changed direction based on the strength of the static
signal from the radio. They started to head in the wrong direction
and the static faded, so they turned down one road after another
until finally they both heard the music begin to play again. The
song playing this time was Sultans of Swing, and it got louder as
they neared a narrow path leading into the dense forest.
"Good tune," said Jefe.
Both men nodded and got out of the truck.
"Looks like we go on foot from here, Alex," said Jefe.
The large man produced a machete from the bed of his truck and led
the way.
"I'll just follow the music." Jefe said.
The two walked on as songs continued to play through the day.
Around noon they entered a small village.
"I know the villagers, so we should be able to find out if they saw
your wife, and we can sleep here for the night." Jefe said.
"You don't want to keep going?" Alex asked.
Jefe cocked his head to the side.
"We