Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (7 page)

 
             
Diablo shoves me away and steps back
. A
murmur r
ipples
through the crowd. Diablo’s behaviour
seems to be confusing them.
It confuses me more.
He stares at me as if this is the first time he’s seeing me.
   

             
Carvil is still on the floor, ear to the ground,
probably waiting
for the sound of gunshots. When nothing happens, he hops to his feet and looks questioningly at Diablo, as if to say: ‘What you waiting for?’

             
Don’t really blame
Carvil
. Who wants a
family of vengeful cannibals lurking around Siempre
because of some insolent gringa?

 
             
To everyone’s surprise, Diablo
slowly
backs away, his eyes
still
fixed on my face.

             
What does this
mean?
Am I out of danger? Does he plan to return
with renewed vigour and rip me apart
like his mother promised to?

             
Christa steps forward and
smiles at me. A
wave of relief washes over me
. At least she’s no
longer mad at me.
Maybe
I’m out of danger after all.

             
Anyway, s
he looks
far
too young to be the Demon’s mother. If I have to guess, I’d say she’s 40ish, stylish, attra
ctive. H
er jet
-black hair is s
licked into a low chignon. Her skin is olive
and
smooth
,
her face
caked with foundation. Her scarlet
lips
are full and pouting, her eyes, hard and black. T
ight-fitting sweater with low
-
slung jeans tucked into brown, mid-calf boots. Large silver hoops dangle from her ears each time she moves.

             
Still smiling, she removes a large atomiser from her saddle bag and sprays me. Great – she’s sharing her favourite fragrance with me – maybe it’s
her
way of apologising.
I exhale and suddenly
I’m feeling
really
hopeful. 

             
She turns around and
spray
s
everyone around her.
The villagers smile and
exchange see-we-were-worrying-for-nothing looks.

             
Laughing, Christa runs through the crowd and sprays everyone in sight. Really, she is so damn generous with her …
Channel
No
5
? Well, it has to be something expensive. After all, she is a drug dealer - she must have dough.

             
I sniff the fragrance on my clothes and frown. Strange, it smells really familiar and not at all like
Channel
No
5
or any of Elaine’s expensive perfumes
I’ve stolen
from time-to-time. To me, it smells more like
… g
asoline
.
Holy cow, it
is
gasoline! What the hell …?’

             
Christa is talking to Diablo now. Her eyes are glistening and her
face is flushed.
She claps her hands to her chest as if she can barely contain her excitement.

             
Diablo’s hooded eyes shifts around and settles on me again. His gaze is penetrating and I quickly avert my eyes. After a moment he nods at Christa and she let’s out a whoop of
delight
. She spins around and points to one of her men carrying the strangest contraption I’ve ever seen. Some sort of mini gas pump. He steps forward
and tips his cap at her.

             
T
hen I notice the cylinder strapped to his back
– it’s a fucking flame thrower.

             
Christa closes her eyes, raises her hands to the skies and says, ‘Diablo has spoken, everyone.
Quemar
la
aldea
.’

             
The
villagers let out an
anguished roar as the flamethrower takes three steps back.

             
Now, I have a
fair
understanding of Spanish, although I
have trouble speaking it.
But when people
speak
really fast, I tend to lose them. ‘What did she say?’
I ask to no one in particular.

             
All her men are moving backwards, except the flamethrower
. H
e
aim
s
at the barn and fires.
Flame shoots from
his contraption
and the barn
ignites.

             
‘Ohmigod!’ I cry
.

             
Some of the screaming villagers
race to the barn and
try
to douse the flames but it’s no use - the barn
is an inferno already.
 

             
‘Payton, what the fuck have you done?’
Paris
shrieks.

             
Shocked, I
stare at
her and realise that with one slap, I sentenced the villagers to death. Fuck! What the hell was I thinking? How could I be so stupid, so dumb, so self-absorbed to do something like that?

CHAPTER TWO

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I shout at
Christa.
‘There are woman and children …’

             
I look around. ‘There’s
animals
…?

Christa
hangs her head for a moment, then
looks up at me and says,
‘Burn them all.’
             
Stunned,
I whirl around to look at
my murderer. E
ve
n though I’m terrified of him,
we enter into a staring contest.

             
I can’t back down now – the situation calls for drastic action.
And besides my
fear is slowly morphing into rage
and I struggle to contain myself
.

             
‘What do you want?
’ I screech
, my eyes flitting from
Christa to Diablo. ‘Gold? Land?
Tequila?’

             
His men scoff at my
question
, while Diablo just stares at me.
One of his men
places a lit cigarette in his hands and he
takes long drags on his cigarette. With all the gasoline around, this place could end up looking like a 4
^th
of July celebration soon.

             
Carvil and another village elder push me aside and totter up to Diablo. They bow before him
. ‘Please Diablo, please.’
 

             
He ignores them
, his eyes fixed on me
.

             
They get on their hands and knees. ‘
Diablo, please. Diablo …
’

             
Diablo side-steps them and walks away. They follow him.
He stops
,
they stop.
He walks, they walk. Suddenly he frowns and curses under his breath.

             
‘
Take our gold
, Diablo
. You can have anything you want
, Senor,’ Carvil says.

             
Diablo turns
a
nd levels his gun at them but they just close their eyes and
remain standing in front of him.

             
Diablo
inhales deeply and
lowers his gun
. Suddenly he starts slowly stroking his chin. If I thought the retard had a brain, I’d accuse him of thinking.

             
A
fter a
few
moment
s
, he raises his hand
. A man rushes up to him. They whisper for a moment. The
man shouts out to the flame-thrower. The flame-thrower sulkily lowers his trigger.

             
Diablo’s man turns to the elders and talks to them. The elders listen, hop to their feet and nod vigorously, their e
yes suddenly starting to gleam.
 

             
‘What?
What’s he saying? What’s going on?’
Nobody answers me. Some of the villagers rush to douse the burning barn with buckets of water.

    
             
Carvil scrambles over to Jack and
talks to him in Spanish. Jack’s eyes light up as he
listens
.
He glances at me, then quickly looks away.

             
My family and I exchange confused glances.

             
We’re feeling a little hopeful now that
the flame-thrower has stopped firing and we have this
stay
.
All
eyes are
glued to
Jack.