Redemption's Warrior (18 page)

Fuming. Still squeezing the railing his knuckles white with the strain Christopher screams, “YES!” Out of the corner of his eye the blue dragonfly skirts the edges of his vision. Surrounded by a flash of high frequency blue Christopher staggers. Leaning over, placing his hands on his knees he takes a deep inhale. “Have you ever seen my arrest paperwork? Have you ever seen a list of charges, trial or sentencing?  No. You have not because they do not exist.”

Luis still laughing says, “
Gringo
, you’d do better to stick with cooking fish instead making crazy accusations.” Slowing the boat as they approach the dock Luis slaps his knee. Choking on his laughter he says, “As far as I know tuck and roll upholstery shops do not employ skunks. Certainly not skunks that drive.” He is wheezing with glee. His own joke provokes his merriment.

“Hilarious,” says Christopher on an exhale. Shaking with outrage he climbs up the ladder with the bow line. Luis tosses him the stern line. After tying up Christopher stoops to pick up fish with the launch gaffs
. I cannot afford to have another outburst. I’ll take Luis fish when I deliver
El Jefe’s
. Eating will distract him.

Cleaning and gutting the fish, haunted by the specter of Checo’s grisly head. Checo’s spirit enters the clearing. He comes to complain, the jaguar at his side,
Ave Bonita
trailing behind. He says the usual words. “You kiss the smelly behind of the fat man and make more work for me.”

With Checo’s ghost looming he must find a way to behave as he would any other day of a fish run. He slices up trays of tuna for a late lunch at the
hacienda
and another tray for Fat Luis. Delivering these appetizers he returns to prepare barbeque.

Sparkling and followed by her swan Juanita’s spirit arrives. She smiles, “goals, acts, Beneficence.” Together the words become a chant. It begins to circle through him, a song, and a prayer. “Goals, acts, Beneficence” their cadence is more than a rhythm. “Goals, acts, Beneficence;” they are way of life.

Fileting the fish, slicing carefully along the midline, he cuts away the debris. “Goals, acts, Beneficence,” three words condensed mean so much more. Today he prepares fish, an
act
of disguise in preparation to realize his
goal
, escape from
Islas Tres Marias
. Beneficence is his choice. Beneficence will guide, direct and protect him in the actions required to realize his goal, escape.
Goals, acts, Beneficence
, chanting the words make him feel closer to Juanita, closer to success. Tonight he will be swimming into deep waters. He will be swimming for his life and freedom.

First he must get through this day giving no hints of his plan. Filleted fish soak in a plastic tub filled with coconut milk, chilies and banana. He adds coconut meat. Flies swarm.
The flies were not blown away in the hurricane,
he thinks
. It’s infuriating the flies are still here and Juanita gone
.

“I am the Divine Transmuting Flame. I carry the Cosmic Balance. You are mine, Redemption’s Warrior.”
Goals, acts, Beneficence
. His hands prepare the fish. His heart sings;
goals, acts, Beneficence.

At twilight Christopher knocks on Fat Luis’s door with a tray of barbeque fish. He has already delivered the fish for
El Jefe’s
party. Fat Luis looks at him. His lip curls with scorn. “What are you doing Marcos? Are you kissing ass to be made lead man?” He leers at Christopher, “Do you want Checo’s old job?

Christopher drops his head and swallows hard against a surge of anger. Looking up, forcing a smile he says, “I guess we’ll see in the morning. Have a good night.”

Immersed in wave after wave of power Christopher walks away. Clean, clear,
like star shine
, beneficence rushes over him, thru him. His energetic body is huge, a gigantic buffer extending past the town and into the surrounding semi-tropical jungle.
Is this Beneficence helping, preparing me for escape?

While waterproofing his money jars he’s visited by Daniel whose only crime protecting his sister from a sexual predator. After images linger of Daniel huddled in the corner of the garage wearing rags. This is the Daniel who was driven to claim his final dignity, attempting escape from
La Luna
in broad daylight.

Checo’s face swollen with empty eye sockets, Checo’s offense was leadership in a time of need. He did such a good job restoring order after the hurricane that his success embarrassed
El Jefe
.  A charismatic personality, Checo was known to exaggerate. Embellishments served him. They provided entertainment, enhanced his reputation or made a story more fascinating. Checo’s face bloated with sea water, Christopher will never forget. Crushed by sadness, a lump so large he cannot swallow, lodged in his throat. While power pulses, synchronized with his heart-beat, redemption’s power the glue holding him together. Redemption’s white hot anger remembers. Today Daniel and Checo, the women raped on the beach and countless others whose stories he doesn’t know the details, they are not forgotten. Bowing his head he prays his escape will free others. He doesn’t know how this might work. He only feels a driving need.

Twilight streaks horizontally through the trees. Green leaves surrounded in gold. He buries the jars temporarily next to the fire pit. Stinking of fish and sweat he dives into the surf. Tonight guards will expect him to babysit the fish smoker down by the beach. Hungry for the delicacy they will not seek him out until morning. Al he has left to do, wait for night to fall.

• • •

Christopher moves through the brush gathering his hidden supplies. Earlier he had waterproofed his money jars. Digging them out of the sand he loads them in an inner tube along with a bag of fresh clothes. Sitting at the water’s edge he ties the inner tube to his waist. Soundlessly, sinking up to his neck, Christopher begins to swim. The moon casts her light on gentle swells marking a sparkling path to the Vargas boat.

Salt water buoys the inner tube behind him. Christopher loses himself in the moment. He does not notice he’s embodying his personal authority or that stroke to stroke, breath to breath, he is swimming for justice and freedom. He does not seek a paper bound bureaucratic justice. He swims for a burning white-hot justice. As he swims he does not make the journey alone, or only for himself. He swims for Daniel.
Daniel was chewed up and spit out by the terrors of prison life.
As he swims, Christopher honors Daniel’s spirit and his desperate attempt to escape. He also swims for the memory of Checo. A good man punished for leadership.
Checo, with his never healing cigar burn, the price he paid for being a strong man in a time of need
. Christopher swims for Juanita. He swims for their life if not for Hurricane Olivia. He honors her memory by succeeding. The first day he saw her and the sparkles brightening the air around her:
I’ve heard people talk instant love before
. For the first time Christopher understands a love born in an instant.
I loved her the first time I saw her and her swan
. Juanita’s beauty fills him as he glides through the moonlit water. For the love they share, for the goals outlined in their last day together, Christopher swims toward his freedom.

As he swims his determination grows. He shifts to the breaststroke moving steadily forward, strong and focused. Pumped with adrenalin he’s not at all tired. Images of his childhood as a mixed race boy navigating the streets of LA, studying martial arts, even his time on
La Luna
have all prepared him to succeed.
Escape. Escaping Islas Tres Marias is redemption
.

He swims for liberty, for himself, for love, for Checo and Daniel. He prays as he succeeds their spirits will fly free. His freedom will be their redemption.
Freedom is all the redemption we need.
With this realization Christopher feels a shift. Words describing this event are superfluous. Within his limited understanding, a flame, the Divine Transmuting Flame, drops into his belly, a steady warmth, and communion. At one with Beneficence; powerful and congruent, creating positive possibilities. The Vargas boat lies ahead. He has not drifted off course. He travels as Redemption’s Warrior accompanied by ghosts of his past. They have led him to safety.

One hundred feet from the boat, a streak of white moves in the water.
A shark
? The moonlight catches flash after flash of movement and creatures. Dozens are swimming in proximity to the Vargas boat. Desperately he reaches out of the water… wanting to be lifted to safety by human hands. A giant triangle creature swims under him lifting and supporting. As he climbs the ladder boarding the boat, father and son are laughing so hard they are holding their sides. Through their laughter streaked with tears they explain the creatures are harmless and friendly. They watch his confusion with amusement. Eventually he laughs sheepishly, happy to befriend the Manta Ray, not a shark. Vargas grips his arm. “You made it with no one following.
Bueno
. You have my
dinero
?

Breathless with freedom, Christopher leans for a moment hands on knees, his head hanging. “I have it for you. Let me go below and put on my clothes. I’ll bring you the money.”

Leon sends Miguel below with him.

He wants to avoid any surprises
.

Christopher does not mind their caution. Elated to be free of
Islas Tres Maria,
dressing quickly, he hands Miguel one of the three jars. “
Por su Padre
,” he says.

Leon calls down to Christopher, “Stay below. I’ll call when we are all clear.”

Starting the engine, he pulls the boat forward slowly, building power. Fifteen minutes later he taps on the hatch. “Come up.”

Miguel works deftly stowing gear below. Christopher sits behind Leon. They do not speak. They each have a soft drink sitting in a comfortable silence. Christopher thinks,
stay in the silence. Do nothing to disrupt the moment
. In several hours they will enter Mazatlan’s harbor.

P
re-dawn sky delineates obstacles as Vargas pulls into Mazatlan harbor. He will continue on to
Barras de Playta
after dropping his passenger off. Christopher shakes each man’s hand and adds a heartfelt, “
Muchas gracias mi amigos.”

Adrenalized he vaults up the dock with his belongings. He gives a final wave for Leon and Miguel before they steer
Cabillito de Mer
for home. Finding a bench beyond the harbor he stuffs the
dineros
in his pants pocket. A street vendor sets up in the plaza across the street. The menu; coffee, hot chocolate and
pan dulce
. Christopher purchases one coffee, one hot chocolate and asks for an extra-large cup. Two
pan dulce
finish the order.

Sitting on a park bench he sips the combination chocolate and coffee. In this moment his nerves are fortified with caffeine and sugar and his fears diminish. Enjoying the warmth of the brew rich with chocolate he tastes freedom free of the suffocating grip of
La Luna
.

• • •

On
Islas Tres Marias
Christopher is not missed until breakfast. Inmates immediately rehash Checo’s murder. They question, “Has Christopher been murdered too?” The grapevine hums with questions and conjecture.
El Jefe
hearing the news Christopher is missing says, “That
basura
has not escaped. He’s either shark food or in hiding.” Pulling on his boots he strides toward the garage. “I’ll find him and when I do, he’ll be my slave.”

El Jefe
moves swiftly across the compound jumping into his jeep.
Ave Bonita
follows concealed in the trees. Gunning the engine he speeds down the hill toward the dock. Closing in fast on the dock
Ave Bonita
dives, a blur of green and blue, screeching, feathers, claws and beak gouge and blind him. Finally able to throw her aside, his face, neck and arms bleeding where she has bitten and gouged. If
Ave Bonita
had not flown into his face, obscuring his vision,
El Jefe
might have driven up the hilly access road. He did not veer up the hill because
Ave Bonita
clawed and blinded him in this critical moment. As the jeep flies over the sea wall, Checo’s parrot vanishes into the tree line. Inmates watch in stupefied horror as
El Jefe
and his jeep sail into the ocean. Unbeknownst to Christopher his escape ignited the chain of events steering
El Jefe
to recklessly chase him down. Together with
Ave Bonita’s
he’s Redemption’s tool after all.

• • •

Revived with caffeine and sugar Christopher asks the vendor where the tourist shops are located. His plan to purchase a four pocket
Cuba Vera
shirt, chino pants, sun-glasses and a hat. Until then he mustn’t draw attention to himself. Returning to the bench he takes up his vigil. Stretching his legs out long in front of him, eyes closed, ankles crossed, appearing at ease he waits for the stores to open; a long, long wait, the sun well into its journey across morning sky before the first of the many shops opens. His first opportunity on the mainland to savor his freedom, unfortunately his earlier steady nerves, they are now raw. He feels the wild elephant who wants to trample every obstacle in sight. The rampaging elephant will run headlong for the border, trumpeting his victory. He wants to continue his mad dash for freedom until he stands in front of his parent’s house wrapped in their hugs.

Sobering. He remembers Daniel’s five days of freedom before he was caught and returned to
La Luna
. Between the worry of being caught, his adrenalin fueled desire to run as fast as he can to the border, it takes all his discipline to sit quietly until the shops pull up their shades and unlock their doors.

On
Islas Tres Marias
, as required by law, Fat Luis notifies federal and state police on the mainland. The prison has an escapee. Christopher’s description and Tijuana jail photo are sent out over the web. A felon on the run, Mexico’s bureaucratic and law enforcement agencies have begun their search.