Chapter 10
Chile
Bobby's eyes fluttered open. The stifling heat stung his bruised skin.
"Ah!" Bobby quickly raised off his back, "Where am I?"
The only answer was the rustle of chains shackled to his ankles and wrists. He was drenched in his sweat. Wherever he was, it felt like the inside of an oven. A craggy, cavernous, ray dark oven.
Judging by the brutal heat and ashes clogging his lungs, this had to be some type of prison cave inside the volcano. All Bobby remembered was fighting for his life on the side of the volcano. He was doing pretty well for himself until they overran Warren and him…
Warren!
Bobby instinctively summoned a sheet of ice to encase his wounded flesh, but his powers failed him.
A cold shiver skated over his pimply skin. The kind of cold Bobby hated. The kind he couldn't control. His heart raced. Bobby whipped his head side to side in a panic.
"…Warren? Warren!" Bobby yelled.
"Ungh…" Warren groaned.
"Warren! Thank God!" Bobby exhaled.
"…For what?" Warren said smugly.
"New episodes of Archer. Whaddya think?" Bobby said.
"I think we're trapped in a volcano, there are power dampeners all around us, and we have no idea where the others are, let alone if they're still alive," Warren said and angrily pulled on his chains.
"Yeesh. And here I thought this cell was dark enough as it is," Bobby said.
Warren didn't respond. Nothing Bobby hated more than awkward pauses. His distaste for them made sense when Bobby would meet someone new. If he wasn't sure how they felt about him, then even a second's lapse in a conversation could mean a thousand different things.
It was different with Warren. At least it should be. By now Bobby had to know that Warren was family. One of his, many, many, many, older siblings. He just didn't want Warren to be mad at him. He should know better that just because Warren wasn't saying anything didn't mean he was mad at Bobby. Squeezing blood from diamonds was easier than getting Warren to talk sometimes.
So why did it still gnaw at Bobby? Why did the silence call out to him so loudly? Did he do something wrong? Say something dumb? The hard part of being the team clown was that everyone expected him to have the perfect punchline to diffuse tension. Every. Single. Time.
No pressure.
But if he didn't say the right thing one time, or if he didn't say it at the right time…It's like everyone thought he was an idiot.
More so.
Worse maybe, they thought he wasn't serious. Warren's probably sulking over there, plotting how to escape and here Bobby was, as always, making light of it. Making it seem like it was ok they were captured. Like Bobby was content with waiting, as always, for the others to come rescue him. Bail him out like an over privileged bank.
Bobby didn't ask to be taken prisoner. And it's not like he wasn't trying to find a way out. He was certainly doing more than Warren, Mr. Woe-is-me.
Bobby ran his fingers through his sweat soaked auburn hair. Even his sweat burned.
He just wanted to hear Warren laugh. It's how Bobby knew things were ok. And when things were ok, they could all be confident that things were going to be ok. No matter what danger they were in. When everyone started brooding, that's when Bobby got worried. When his teammates would shut themselves off, then it was everyone for themselves. Bobby knew it firsthand. How many times had he seen his own father shut himself off to his feelings? His own family? Nothing ever got fixed that way. Nothing.
If they were going to survive this, Bobby needed Warren, not the melancholy Archangel.
"…So…" Bobby said.
The quick turn of a key cut Bobby off.
Warren sat up.
"Someone's…" Bobby said.
"Shhh…" Warren interrupted.
The cell door rattled open. An arrow of light pierced through the cell from the crack in the door. A tall, looming man entered with long, black hair draped around his shoulders. He was a striking figure, a walking monolith of a man eclipsing the slivers of light behind him.
He approached Warren and Bobby, both tied to the floor across the cell. They couldn't move. Their powers were being suppressed. And tiny looked like he could snap their necks with the snap of his fingers.
Bobby smirked.
"Yeah, I'll have a large number two with…mmm…I'll go with a large diet coke and a, hey, are you guys serving breakfast still?" Bobby said.
"Christ…" Warren mumbled and unexpectedly chuckled.
It was good to hear Warren laugh. It was like water in the desert. If Bobby had to go out, he'd go out his way, on his terms.
Their captor grunted. It was a disdainful grunt, as if the guy just heard someone cuss in church.
The man spat a thick gob of saliva at Bobby.
"Hey! Does it say overpass on my forehead?" Bobby squirmed and flicked the spit off the crown of his head like it was a spider.
"Quiet, Bobby," Warren said.
The man squatted in front of Warren and Bobby. He came in without any guards. To get so close to his prisoners either meant he was incredibly stupid or confident. Like any great leader, probably both.
"We knew you'd come eventually," the man said.
In English.
Bobby cocked an eyebrow.
"You…" Warren started.
"Yes, we speak the outsider's language. He taught it to our people. Changed us," the man said.
He sighed. It was a deep, anguished breath as he lowered his head.
"And now more outsiders' have come to join him," he said.
"You are mistaken," Warren jumped in, "We know of the outsider you talk about. A man named Cortez. We are not here to join him. We are here to…arrest him. He's a criminal. We want to bring him back with us for justice."
"It doesn't matter anymore. If you are here to help or hurt him, there is no difference. You are here because of him. And now things here will never be the same. No matter what happens. Your presence alone is enough to damage everything," the man said.
"…I understand what you mean," Warren said.
"Believe me, the last thing we want to do is impose on your people. You drop a pebble in water, they're going to be ripples. We get it. Help us help you. Show us where you have Cortez locked up, and we take him off your hands. Win-win," Bobby said.
"We respect your solitude. All we want is to right Cortez's wrong and then leave you in peace. We can guarantee you no one else will ever bother your people. We promise," Warren added.
"You feel entitled to trust, do you not? Either you are very arrogant or very foolish, outsider," the man said.
"Look, c'mon, enough with this outsiders and natives crap. We're men. All of us. If you don't like us, don't like us, not who we remind you of," Bobby said.
He slowly reached out his shackled hand as far as he could to try and shake his captor's hand.
"My name's Bobby. This is my friend Warren. What's your name?" Bobby said.
The man was taken aback. A smirk crawled across the side of his face. He faced Warren.
"Your friend has much to learn about the world," the man said.
"Yeah…" Warren said, "…and so do we."
"…I am Luis," the man said.
He turned to Bobby, inches from his face, and scowled.
"Has anything changed?" Luis said.
"Everything," Bobby said.
Luis stood up.
"The one you call Cortez, he was not the first outsider to contact our people, you know," Luis said.
"Sure wasn't the Listerine people," Bobby said under his breath.
"My family has led our people for centuries since they were forced…chose to settle these volcanoes from the mainland. Spanish missionaries came to convert our people to their gods. Soon after, Spanish soldiers came to convert our people to their kings. Our ancestors were given a choice by these outsiders. Stay in the fertile mainland and assimilate, or, those unwilling were given the 'choice' to resettle around the arid volcanoes. Many stayed. And now they're unrecognizable. Bred and bled out by the Spanish and their wars. The outsiders told our ancestors to trust them. They wished to live peacefully with them," Luis said.
Luis gazed at the ceiling and sighed.
"It is dark here. You cannot see. But there are machines in this room. Machines that suppress mutant powers," Luis said.
He shut his eyes.
"We are all mutants here. We cannot even trust each other. What hope is there for trust?" Luis said.
"This is a start," Bobby said, "Listening. Talking. Look, trus-…er…believe us, we can relate to what your ancestors went through. I'm so sorry it happened. But outside, that same war is going on, and it's our job to try and stop it. And we can't do it without you."
"You mentioned machines before," Warren said, "did the outsider Cortez give them to you?"
Luis shifted his eyes to the ajar cell door for a microsecond.
"We had another name for the outsider, Cortez. Advisor," Luis said.
"Uh, boy," Bobby mumbled.
"Our ancestors survived the harsh terrain of the volcanoes for centuries by celebrating and using the gifts given to us by the gods. The sun blesses some with the power to make fire while the sky blesses others with the power to make water. Our people thrived in a utopia, never wanting for food or medicine because we learned to function, together, by appreciating our god given talents. When the outsider arrived, near death, my brother and I decided to nurse him back to health. We shared our gifts with him, and, for a time, he lived peacefully as one of us. He taught us his language and advised us on the outside world.
One day, nomads and raiders stormed our village. We should have known the outsider had something to do with it, but by then, he was one of us. We trusted him. With my powers, and those like me, we drove back the raiders. But my brother…my poor human brother, Tomas… he changed that night.
He felt it was his tactical strategy that made the difference in battle. His god given talent of intellect. But no one saw that. No one could see that gift. Our people voted me leader for my strength, when for years, my brother and I led together. My brother was consumed with rage and envy. I didn't know at the time but I should have suspected it. It was the outsider, the outsider fanned the flames of jealousy in his mind. Advising him to fear me because I was, as he called it, a 'mutant.' My gifts weren't blessings from the gods, but a curse of birth. His paranoia infected the other humans who feared one day we mutants would no longer need them and turn on them.
My brother…my own brother…one night, he cornered my wife and I, a thirst for blood in his veins…I managed to survive that night, but my beautiful wife…Killed by my own brother. And everything changed forever.
We split from the humans. The outsider supplied them with weapons and technology we had never dreamt of before but now cannot exist without. For months now, we kill each other with no victors ever emerging. Just bodies. Dead bodies of friends and loved ones, shoveled to the side of our blood stained roads. They have advanced weapons, some we have stolen, and larger numbers, but we had far greater powers. But that balance was destroyed recently when they kidnapped our healer. Without her, our numbers dwindle while theirs multiply," Luis said.
"…Maybe things are the way they are for a reason. Maybe peace really is a fool's dream." Warren exhaled.
"C'mon, don't say that, Warren," Bobby said.
Even if it is true.
"We need all the warriors we can find. You want the outsider, Cortez? The humans have him, along with our healer, as their prisoner. Help us rescue our healer and we will help you free Cortez," Luis said.
Bobby glanced at Warren. His blue friend didn't make eye contact. Warren sat staring face front. Bobby could only make out half of Warren's face, his beady pupil fading in and out of the pale stream of light.
"…You have our word," Warren said.
Luis nodded and headed for the exit. He lingered at the doorway.
"All I have is blood on my hands. And so will you." Luis left the cell.
Bobby took a deep breath then deflated, resting his back against the jagged cave wall.
"…Listening and talking?" Warren said.
"…Not a word of this to the Professor, you hear me?" Bobby said.
"Sure. What's said in Chile, stays in Chile," Warren said.
"Good," Bobby said.
"So…you wanna sing Kumbaya now or wait for the smores?" Warren said.
"Shush, you!" Bobby said.
"…H-Hello?"
Bobby and Warren sat back up.
The soft, trembling voice had the innocence of a child. A young boy snuck into the cell, slipping through the shadows like a walking shade.
"Who's there?" Warren demanded.
"…Me…Hi…I'm Franco," the boy said.
"How old are you, Franco?" Bobby said.
"I'll be twelve next week!" Franco said.
"Why are you here, Franco?" Warren said.
"My dad's talking to the others, I heard them say they're going to attack uncle," Franco said.
"Your dad's Luis?" Bobby said.
Franco nodded.
"I heard you guys in here…I don't think you're bad guys. Are you?" Franco said.
"Nah, we're the good guys, kid," Bobby said.
"Just in the wrong place at the wrong time apparently," Warren said.
"I believe you're good guys. Even if nobody else does. I don't have gifts like my Dad, but…I do have gifts. I get feelings about people. I have a good one about you two. I don't think you're sent here to hurt us like everyone else thinks," Franco said.
"That's nice of you to say, kid. Really," Bobby said.
"Please, don't let them hurt my uncle," Franco said.
Tears began to well in his eyes.
"Uncle taught me how to hunt, how to read, how to spot birds, I love him. He's family. And I don't want to lose him like my mom. Please, promise me you won't let my Dad hurt him," Franco said.
Warren looked down, "I…"
Bobby reached over and patted Franco on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, like I told ya, kid. We're the good guys. We always do the right thing," Bobby said.