XLIV
1657 Words
“I still can’t believe you threw me into that dark trunk of your car. I could have died there, you know. Out of suffocation . . . or a stray bullet.”
After all the revelations that Helen had heard, she found herself softening on him. She eventually figured that Miguel was just another victim of a greater force he had no idea of.
“I know but it was a lot safer for you there than sitting inside. Another thing was that the police might tag you as my co-conspirator if they see you sitting leisurely beside me. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, I would not. But still, it was a rude thing to do to a woman, right?”
“Well, just think of it as my retaliatory action to you breaking my nuts.”
“Ah . . . now that seems fair to me.”
Their eyes met and they shared a moment laughing not long after. It was already 2:30 in the afternoon and the heat of the sun was starting to hit its second peak that day. Helen held a certain degree of childish pride with her dress and large hat. It seemed that the only thing missing was a glass of iced tea in her hands and the picture of summer would be more than complete. Miguel even acknowledged her ‘perfectly timed’ attire twice and she blushed on the second time because she knew he meant it more than the first time. She has caught him secretly glancing at her many times before that and she was sure that those glances were not coming merely from a man who’s studying his woman hostage. She flattered herself secretly by the fact that she could still make a good-looking man’s head turn.
“So, how long do we have to travel before we reach your hideout, Sergeant Vengeful?”
Normally, Miguel would have replied to those kinds of names with a lightning jab. But this one brought him a smile.
“We’re almost there, ma’am.”
Helen pouted her lips.
“Twenty minutes ago, you told me that we were almost there. I guess what you meant was ‘we were almost almost there’.”
“I’m sorry. I mistook the last big arch that we passed as the one near our town. But this time, I’m sure. This time, we really are almost there.”
“Well, I just hope your hideout offers the best cuisine in town. And don’t forget about some cool water for a refreshing bath. I really need that one. I think this kidnap victim of yours deserve a lot after all those troubles that you made.”, she curtly said.
She waited for his answer but none came. When she looked at him, she saw that he was feeling guilty and hurt. Helen immediately regretted her words so she punched him lightly on his right shoulder.
“Come on, Sergeant. Can’t you take a joke? I did not mean that one! Cheer up!”
But Miguel stayed that way for the rest of the hour. Helen just looked out of the window while still dwelling on her last words. She wanted to say sorry. So she tried to start a new conversation with him.
“Don’t you find this whole thing a little funny? Not that I’m saying Nadia’s passing a small thing. But think about it. You, Nadia, me and your former partner who’s too eager to catch you. What was his name again?”
Helen held her breath as she waited if he would ever talk to her again, after her seemingly harsh words before.
“Alex. His name is Alex Gonzalo.”
“Yeah, that was it. Big, grumpy Alex.”
He turned his head to face her for a moment. He had a surprised look on his face.
“You know him?”
“I wouldn’t say I actually know him. I just met him twice. The first time was when I came here from Washington. I visited Nadia’s mother and she was telling me about her when that man came to crash our talk show.”
“And when was the second time?”
Helen frowned as she remembered that night once again, when she was nearly naked at the police station.
“I’d rather not talk about that one.”
Miguel gave off a pained laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Nothing. I’d rather not talk about this one too.”, he said to the puzzled woman.
“Is this one of the policemen humor circulating around the boys? The kind that doesn’t need any explanation, but once fired, it is automatically understood by everyone?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Helen.”
“Fine. Then forget about it and just keep driving.”
Helen had a sour look on her face for about ten straight minutes but he did not seem to pay any attention to her through-out. She observed also that he was driving a lot faster than before now. She looked at him with inquiring eyes but was focusing on the road more than ever now. The road ahead was practically empty but she trusted her instincts so she put her seatbelt on. The Range Rover was pushed to its limit for three kilometers sharp until Miguel slowed down and parked the car to a shady roadside. Helen did not notice herself grabbing the edges of her seat until they have stopped. The place where they parked was nice and cool but it was so secluded at the same time. She couldn’t help but ask.
“Why are we stopping here, Miguel?”
But he did not answer her. He just took off his own seatbelt and got off the car. She saw him circle around the car but the heavy tint of the glasses prevented her to see him once he was at the back. She was feeling anxious. What if she was wrong about him? What if he really intended to kill her and he just picked a very remote place to dispose her? What if he already had made a place to hide her corpse and she just willingly let him carry her here? She had a million questions burning in her mind. To try to wash them all away, she tried to recall their last conversation. It was something about them and all the closest persons in their lives who got involved in that mess. She wanted to tell him what a small world it really was. Maybe it was because of the uncertain situation she was in that she heard the same children’s song play suddenly in her mind.
IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTERALL . . .
IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTERALL . . .
She noticed that he has not come back yet and her fear was becoming even worse.
IT’S A SMALL . . .
She decided she could not wait for him any longer. She needed to know what he was up to. So she opened her window just in time to see him finishing his leak behind the car. He was about to zip his fly when she saw his fullness through the side mirror. Helen’s eyes grew wide open as she silently closed her windows again.
“It’s a big world”, was all she could say.
She wanted to act natural when he comes back, like she saw nothing. So she portrayed herself as all innocence for more than five minutes but no Miguel went back. She wondered if he was pissing everything he had in his body, including his blood for it was taking him so, so long. She got tired of waiting for him after five more minutes so she got off the car madly. If he needed help with closing his fly, so be it. Just to get them back on the road. She marched angrily to the back of the Rover, only to see him lying unconsciously flat on his belly.
“MIGUEL!!”, she screamed with her hands on her mouth.
She tried to bring him back to his consciousness and she discovered that he was having a very high fever. When he finally woke up, she helped him to stand up. He was a little heavy for her and that applied a lot of pressure to his swollen wound when she lifted him up. Miguel groaned loudly. It was then that Helen saw his wound for the very first time, with its now-darkening blood oozing out through the soaked bandage.
“Oh my God, Miguel! Where did you get that?”
“It was . . . when . . . I spun you around. Just before I . . . threw you inside the trunk. You were . . . about to . . . get hit.”
“That was many hours ago already! Why haven’t you told me?”
“I . . . can’t. They’ll catch . . . us.”
Helen assisted him until he was seated at her seat before. Then she took the wheel for herself and she gunned the car.
“We need to get you to the nearest hospital now. That looks real bad.”
“No!”, he said vehemently.
Helen was shocked by his reaction and Miguel sensed it. So he lowered his voice and explained himself.
“No hospital, Helen. They . . . keep records. I can’t . . . risk that.”
“Then where are we going?”
“To a cheap . . . motel.”
She wondered if he was starting to hallucinate because of his fever. But she clearly heard the place where he wanted them to go instead.
“WHAT?!”, she asked loudly.
She has never been inside any motel.
Ever.
- Writer
