August 2008
Armadillo Infante
Mexican State of San Luis Potisi
(Sam Winchester)
Did you ever imagine you were blind? Close your eyes in the shower and feel around for the soap, the shampoo, or feel your way along a wall for the light switch in a dark room? Not even close. Close your eyes and wave your hand in front of them and you'll see a shadow, very faint but it's there.
Now me, I'm blind as the proverbial bat, now and forevermore. When it happened, when I killed the demon and it 'turned' and I couldn't bare to look at it anymore, I felt a pain in my head that I'll never forget. When it was done, I couldn't see, not even the faintest shadow. This must be what it's like to be buried alive.
My face was wet and I thought I was crying but I know what tears taste like and I know what blood tastes like. I put my fingers up to my face and followed the wetness right up to my eyes and when I rubbed my fingers to try and clear away the blood, they just slipped past my eyelids and into the holes where my eyes used to be.
And before I could even comprehend what had happened or wonder what had happened I heard 'em coming, shouting, and babbling in Spanish. I heard men, women and children and instead of being happy that I'd dispatched their local demon, they were pissed. I heard 'em and then I felt 'em. They knocked me to the ground and began their version of the Mexican hat dance on my face while dragging me down the street.
I can't see where they took me but I can feel it, a kind of trembling, really faint but it makes me feel like there's electricity in my veins and it makes me sick to my stomach. I know it's a church and I'm chained up outside but I probably smell too bad now to take refuge inside, even if the villagers thought I was worthy.
So I sit out in the broiling sun, which I'm sure is daytime, and in the freezing cold, which has to be night and they never stop coming. First it was just the town folk, then the word spread and they come from Alvares and La Morena and as far away as Cerro de San Pedro. They come see the blind freak and all it costs them is their self-respect, especially those who spit on me and worse...and they're not all human.
I can feel the demons. I can smell 'emeven over my own stench and there's someone else out there. Someone who smells like, oh, I don't know, like a demon with a black heart of gold and right about now she smells like she's scared to death. So much for the cavalry.
Things could be worse though. I'd laugh and slap my thigh but I'd probably miss and it's not really all that funny. As I say, it could be worse. They could be starving me to death but they do feed me. They feed me and because I can't see what it is I figure that if I don't get sick it's food. And they want me alive.
I can't see but I can hear...everything...and, being totally immersed in their culture for at least three months before my unfortunate accident, I can understand what they're going on about, day in and day out. El Mano de Dios is on his way. The Hand of God is a rock star in this world of angels and demons and these people are not only true believers but they are also true fans.
