excerpt
They decided to visit a popular surfing spot next. It was written
up in all the tourist literature. The drive was pleasant and the view
inspiring until—along a remote stretch of road—Johnny swerved
the car hard.
A congress of men and women blocked their way. Others
dropped from a stand of coconut palms. They were dressed in rags.
Flies fat as bees feasted on their open wounds.
– Buckle up, pilgrim, Johnny said. Lock da doors.
– Butwho . . . ?
– Da dead. Dey got da sickness.
Johnny Cool slammed his foot on the accelerator.
Bodies came at them from the underbrush, hands pried at the
doors. The raiders splattered against the side of the rental like a
swarm of gnats. In the melee one of the men attached himself to the
windshield. Johnny wrestled the steering wheel with one hand
while trying to dislodge the uninvited passenger with the other, but
the guy wouldn’t budge.
So Johnny sped up — then hit the brakes. The stowaway slid
across the hood and over a ledge.
Back at sea level, inspecting damage to the car, Johnny was reluctant
to talk about da dead. But images of the wounded souls appeared
that night in Redman’s dreams. It was a few days before he was able
to expel them. Ace found the creatures to be a lot like ghosts: if you
didn’t believe in them, they couldn’t bother you.
Someone was rapping at the door. Midnight moaned under the covers.
Ace crawled out of bed and unhitched the latch. It was Johnny.
The replacement car hadn’t arrived from the capital. Did Redman
still want to visit the old fort? (Johnny’s cousin owned a taxi.)
– When do we leave?
Ace was having a ball. Look at the photos. See that gleam in his
eyes when he’s with the girl? There weren’t any like her at Sally’s.
On their arrival at the fort it was arranged that the cousin —
Lonnie—would wait in the taxi and drive them back later that afternoon.
Ace paid him $100 American, more than a month’s salary for
islanders fortunate enough to earn one.
Lonnie dropped them off in a designated tourist zone. Militiamen
were smoking reefer in a park across the street.
Libros Libertad 