Arrived (Book One)

Chapter 6: The Treacherous Murder

I rubbed my eyes gently then glanced at the window. Immediately, my sleepness wore away from my face. Cuba was beautiful, I saw its garrulous, bright beaches, its tall skyscrapers, and even small ants that looked like us.

Vibrant green leaves made up the palm trees, while Cubans make simple markets into a business. "It took me awhile to wake you up," Dad explained. "How long did I sleep for?" I asked yawning.

"Five hours," he answered. I stretched out my arms then scratched my head. "What time is it?" I groaned. "Ten o'clock," Dad replied. I moaned again. The flight was almost coming to an end as the attendants were handing the passengers salted peanuts and granola bars.

I vowed as soon as we get out of the plane, I wanted to brush my teeth and maybe, take a shower. We are preparing to land in three minutes, the announcer reminded for the umpteenth time. Everyone got out of their sleepy state then waited impatiently for the ride to end.

And speaking of the landing, I wondered where would Dad and I live for the time being. I looked at Dad as he bit into a granola bar and swallowed the portion down with a gulp.

His hair looked disheveled, he still wore his button down red plaid shirt, long khaki pants, and sand-colored flip flops. His sunglasses were perched onto of his eyes, covering the purple circles around them.

My smile began to widen as the plane landed graciously on the concrete floor. After the plane halted, everyone pulled out their luggage then scrambled out of the plane.

I handed Dad back his leather jacket then dragged my luggage out of the plane, with him trailing behind me. As soon as I got out, I was greeted by the sun's scorching rays. "Ugh," I moaned. I wish I had some sunglasses with me.

Not wasting his time, Dad carried his suitcase then told me to get moving. I gave him an apologetic smile then staggered after him.

Being in Cuba was like being in Jamacia: people from different ethnical groups were chatting with their friends, merchants were selling exotic fruits and vegetables, and the coolest part: I saw cars that reminded me of a 50's movie.

As always, Dad remained calm and rigid, making sure that I wouldn't get lost. As we were waiting for a bus, a plump man with wealthy taste noticed us. He had black hair with a white brimmed hat over his head, white tailored clothes, and a brown suitcase in his left hand.

A huge cigar was sitting in his mouth and a golden ring stayed on his fat finger. "Ben?" the wealthy guy asked in wonder. "Is that you?" Dad turned his head towards the man then sheepishly nodded.

Eagerly, the man dropped his suitcase then hugged Dad very tightly, leaving me confused. "Nice to see that you're in good health," Dad chuckled, patting the man on the back. "Senior Goodman."

"It has been four years," the man pouted. "Can you at least call me Goodman?" "Who is this, Dad?" I asked curiously. "His name is Senior Goodman," Dad answered. "A long time ago, your mother and I helped him find out who robbed his bank."

Senior Goodman shook his finger at my father. "Because of him and your mother," he chuckled. "He is the reason why my bank is a success." Dad blushed for a moment. "So, where are you two heading?" he asked.

"Maybe a hotel?" I suggested. Senior Goodman shook his head in disbelief then told us to come and follow him. Just when Dad began to hoist his bag, I stopped him: "Are you sure we can trust this guy?" I asked. "I mean, he is nice, but what if he's-"

"We can't be rude to him," Dad interrupted. "Either we follow him or we will spent hours looking for a place to sleep." Dad tells me a to be patient before dragged his suitcase and catching up to him.

I didn't like Senior Goodman at all, but I don't have much of a choice. I tugged the handle of my suitcase then followed the men. While Dad and Senior Goodman was walking far away from me, I had to maneuver confused tourists, the smell of car exhaust, and civilians.

We kept pacing on the sidewalk until there wasn't any roads or congested traffic. That's when Senior Goodman paused in front of a magnificent building that was being heavy guarded by black iron gates and armed men.

Dad and I stopped dead in our tracks then gaze at him attentively. "Welcome to my home," Senior Goodman explained, with a flick of his hand. The structure was somehow similar to the White House: white was painted on every crook and cranny, windows were plastered from top to bottom, and a fluttering Cuban flag wedged in the dirt.

As if they were watching us, the iron gate bars suddenly opened on its own. I stood in awe while Senior Goodman and my father walked to the house. "Willow," Dad sighed impatiently. I closed my mouth shut then hurried after them. As I trudged against the cobblestone path, I turned to see a muscular man, carrying an AK-47.

He wore thick sunglasses, a beach t-shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals. His black hair was cut into a square and his skin was still adjusting to the sun's evil glare. He reminded me of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

As soon as we stopped in front of the doorstep, Senior fumbled into his pants pocket and pulled out a silver ring of keys. Just when he was about to shove a key into the slot, he flinched when he saw something through the glass door pane. His cheery face instantly grew pale as he dropped the keys, letting them jingle on the cobblestone floor.

Dad stared at Senior like he was afraid of something. "What's going on?" he asked. "What did you see?" Senior didn't answer his question, only pointing his finger at the glass. "Look," he whimpered. Dad and I heeded his frightened words as we stared into the glass: inside the house was a dead woman in a maid's uniform and others that I couldn't recognize.

I took a couple of deep breaths then stared at Senior Goodman, who was covering his face with his overgrown hands. "How can this be?" he sobbed. "I had my men locked the doors. Did they even know about this?" Instead of answering, Dad picked up the keys and entered into the house.