Uncertain (8 page)

“Oh yes. For sure I am. But I’m not questioning it right now. I called the airline, and it’s a legitimate ticket. That’s all I know. After what I’ve seen, I’m just going with it. Which isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Also…” he said, as he parked. “I brought you a darker bag so your fluorescent canary yellow suitcase doesn’t call so much attention to us. I mean, in case it’s anything like last time.” He said the last part in a low voice.

I laughed a little. He got out of the car and held up a new black bag. Looked like a gym bag.

“It’s just a duffel bag, but this is a quick trip so I didn’t think it would be too small. Especially because I know how you pack.” He lifted the yellow suitcase. “What did you bring? Like three things?”

“I’m amazed I brought anything. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” I touched the new bag. “This bag is great. Thanks, Kev.” I picked up the ID tag and he had already written my name and address on it. It made me smile. He even included the last four numbers on the zip code.

I transferred my clothes over to it and I had room to spare.

“So, speaking of things possibly going like they did last time…” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Should I get like a gun or a knife when we get there? For self-protection?”

Kevin hunched his posture and looked all around the parking garage. “Mel, are you serious? You want to buy a gun in Mexico? Are you perfectly insane?” He was outraged.

“OK, OK,” I told him. “I was just trying to think ahead. “Maybe we can buy a sword or something—pretend it’s a souvenir but it can be really sharp.

“A sword,” Kevin said, amused. “Ugghhh, Mel. Let’s get on this plane before I become way too concerned about this conversation.”

We got off the plane at Oaxaca and headed to the customs area. Kevin told me that customs feels stressful even if you haven’t brought a single thing with you, but he joked that I shouldn’t tell them that I was planning to buy a sword in Mexico.

We made it through customs just fine, although my heart was beating hard when they asked what I was traveling to Mexico for. I didn’t want to say, ‘Good question’ or ‘I have no idea,’ so I just went with ‘vacation.’

As we exited the customs area, the automatic doors slid open. Many people were there holding signs to pick up passengers and bring them places.

“What now? We didn’t even talk about this part, did we?” Kevin said. “Maybe we should check out the hotels? Just get a hotel like last time and check stuff out? See what happens?”

I had only been half-listening, but then I saw a couple holding a sign that read ‘Sanador.’ “Hold on,” I told Kevin, walking over to the couple.

“Who are you waiting for?” I asked them. The lady looked at me and then at Kevin. “You,” she said, smiling. She shook our hands, but didn’t introduce herself or the man with her. “Follow us.”

I began to walk, following the couple.

“Uhhhhh…Mel? Are you following these people?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, I think this is where we’re supposed to go.”

“Just random strangers in a foreign airport who shake our hands and we follow them? No way. This doesn’t feel right, Mel.” He was trotting along next to me as I walked quickly, sure of this plan.

“I think it’s OK,” I told him, still walking.

“Mel, seriously. What did the sign they were holding even mean? What did it say? I didn’t see ‘Mel Harper’ written on it.”

“It said Sanador.”

“Annnnnd what’s that?”

“Healer.”

Kevin sighed and began to walk normally, keeping up.

The couple walked us to their car, and the man took our bags, holding the door open for us. I’ll admit that I thought the situation was uncomfortable. Kevin and I sat in the back, just watching the city go by.

“Hey,” Kevin said in a low voice. I looked at him.

“Do they speak English?”

“I don’t know—let me ask.” I asked in Spanish, delighted that my skills were working. My confidence felt sturdier. The couple shook their head.

“No, they don’t.”

“OK. This is weird. That guy’s hand is all soft and sweaty. Something is up.”

“I’m just trying to go with the flow,” I said.

“But, Mel, you have to be smart about it. You don’t know anything right now.”

“OK, what should I do? Tell them to drop us off on the side of this road?”

“Right now, that sounds like a terrific idea. Better than them taking us to some creepy basement with a leather ceiling where it will be the last thing we ever see.”

I wasn’t sure what to do. I felt that Kevin was overreacting and I didn’t want to mess up the plan. I thought back to the first time this had happened. I had been able to close my eyes and see what to do. I quickly closed my eyes and waited. At first, nothing—then I got flashes that were scenes that didn’t stick around long enough for me to identify. I couldn’t see any detail at all. As soon as I would see something, it would disappear. As if I had a bad connection.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked.

“Just trying to figure out what to do.” I didn’t feel like explaining.

He sighed.

They pulled off onto a desolate part of the road then turned into a driveway that led to nothing.

“Why are we stopping?” I asked.

They didn’t answer.

“Excuse me. Are we to get out here?” I asked.

They didn’t respond again.

“What’s going on?” Kevin demanded.

“I don’t know. They’re ignoring me.”

“C’mon.” He tossed his head back. “Come ON.” He leaned toward the front seat. “Listen. I don’t give a shit if you can’t understand me. Why did we stop? What’s going on?” Kevin came unglued.

The man looked down and slid a handgun out of his jacket pocket.

“Ohhh no,” Kevin said.

“Stay still, hands in the air,” the lady directed in Spanish. Kevin didn’t need a translation. He knew what to do. I picked up my hands, my heart beating so hard that my vision shook with each beat. The man stayed in the car with us, keeping the gun at the ready. The woman got out of the car and paced, making a phone call. Then she seemed to be arguing with someone. I put my hands down, as did Kevin, and the man did nothing.

Kevin put his hand on mine and rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand. I felt as if I needed to do something. This was my fault. Where were my fighting skills like last time? I mentally revved up to see if something would happen. Nothing did. I closed my eyes. Also no help. I thought about trying to grab the gun away from this guy, but I didn’t have the confidence like last time, and he was paying very close attention to us.

After nearly a half-hour of this, we heard gravel under tires and turned to look. Another car pulled up and parked next to us. A person stepped out of the car. I couldn’t see who, but I swallowed hard, my mouth totally dry. My eyes welled up with tears, and I shot a look at Kevin, who was frozen.

The person who’d gotten out of the other vehicle came around the front of the car and into our view. He approached the woman. He was incredibly thin. He argued with her for a few seconds and pointed to our car.

“Should we go for the gun?” I whispered very softly to Kevin. The first man was distracted by the argument and looked away from us several times.

“Maybe so,” Kevin whispered.

“SHUT UP!” the man screamed at us, spit flying out of his mouth.

Kevin used that as his shot. He leaned over to the front, pushed the gun down hard, and climbed over to kneel on the center console, smashing the man’s hand. At the same time, I put the man in a headlock, using his seat as leverage. Kevin grabbed the gun away.

“Mel, get out!” he ordered.

We both scrambled out of the car. I fell to the ground and then sprung back up. The man who had just arrived looked familiar. I wasn’t sure though.

“Mel.” I thought Kevin was calling me, but the voice was different. I looked at Kevin and he looked over at me in disbelief, holding the gun toward the other three moving it from person to person in a very non-expert way.

“Mel,” the voice said again.

I looked over at the man who had recently arrived. He had his hands in his front pockets and wore jeans and a Rush T-shirt that was easily thirty years old. He had a toothpick in his mouth. The toothpick triggered my memory.

“Recognize me?” he asked in English with a slimy smile. He took off his sunglasses. It was the man from a number of months before—the fake homeowner. I felt angry.

“You,” I said. It was all I could come up with.

“I know. It’s all kinds of odd.” He almost seemed apologetic. He pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Mel, we had a small hiccup here, but these two won’t hurt you. They just got confused, ya see.”

“How could I possibly believe you.”

“Kevin, you can tell her I’m OK,” he said.

I looked at Kevin. He still held the gun up but the determination in his eyes had just about vanished. “Kevin?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Kevin answered.

“Ah, well. I’m sorry I lied to you last time. I just had to do a quick—review, I guess. It’s one of the things I do. I’d never hurt you, Mel. Kevin knows that if he listens to me. Never hurt either one of ‘ya,” the man said.

I turned to Kevin who had lowered the gun halfway.

“You’re not much of a shot, I’m guessing, Kevin,” the man said with a laugh. “It’s one of the things I like about ‘ya.” He walked over a little closer to where we stood. “I’m a friend to you. I promise ‘ya that. My name is Max. I want to tell you that your mother knows of me, Mel. I’m in good with ‘er. We gotta get you back on track. We’re nearly out of time.”

“How do you know him?” Kevin asked, looking at me in quick glances as he still held the gun up.

“This is the guy from the…the fake homeowner. Remember?”

Kevin nodded.

I didn’t want to be made a fool of, but how did this guy know everything? I began to pace. “How do you know my mother? What do you know about her?” I wanted him to say she was alive so I could know he was full of it and we could figure out how to get out of this place.

“I know she’s not with us any longer.” He nodded with an apologetic expression. “And I know she’s strong. And she wants you to forgive him.”

I swallowed hard. I felt Kevin look at me, but I didn’t say anything.

“I gotta hurry you up a little, Mel. I have to, and I’m real sorry that these two got confused the way they did. You’re about 20 minutes away from where we need ‘ya, Mel. These two will drive you there now.”

“I’m not sure about that. That guy in the car has got to be pissed,” Kevin said. “I think I broke his hand.”

The man laughed easily. “I can assure you that he’s fine. He won’t stay angry ‘bout it. But I can follow you to be sure you are OK with getting there.”

“Can’t you just take us?” Kevin asked.

“Um, sure. Sure I can,” he said. “Hop in.”

I shot a look at Kevin. He had already started walking over to the trunk of the couple’s car to get our bags. They gave them to us without any issues.

My eyes got teary, and my own emotions pissed me off. I wasn’t sure if we should trust him. Kevin was already in the truck, waiting for me with the door open.

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

“
Everything
,” I said, my frustration intense.

“I get a good vibe from this guy, Mel. I think he’s OK.”

Max walked up. “Mel, this is weird and I know that. Normally, I wouldn’t walk up on you while you’re talking privately, but we’re simply out of time. I want to tell you this—I would sooner lie down and die right here, right now, than let anything happen to ‘ya. I promise ‘ya that. I think Kevin can see that it’s true.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because you don’t have many other choices, and you know it’s true that I know your mother. Right?” He looked at me hopefully. “I’ll have you there in 20 minutes, tops. We don’t get there soon, ya may as well go home, ya see. Can I drive you?” I looked at him. “Please,” he said.

“OK.”

I got into the truck in the back seat. Kevin sat in the front.

“Max?” Kevin said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I still have this gun,” Kevin said, looking at his open hand with the gun laying on it. He looked afraid to move it.

Max laughed.

“I’m pretty worried about it,” Kevin said, still staring down at it.

“I’ll take care of that for you. I have some antibacterial wipes in the console there. You just give it a good wipe down—just to soothe your mind.”

“OK. Good plan,” Kevin said, almost cheerfully.

Kevin used about eight wipes on the gun, cleaning it as if that were his job. Then he used a wipe to set it on the floor near his feet.

“I have some questions,” I told Max.

“I know ‘ya do,” he said, without missing a beat.

“Can I ask you some?” I wanted some answers, for sure, but I didn’t know if I actually expected any.

“This is where I’ll disappoint you. I’m afraid I can’t help ‘ya there.” He fiddled with the radio. “But I do have some good music, and I can tell you a little bit about Mexico.”