Loooooooook ma' NO CLIFFY!!! ;)

Enjoy

J.

Chapter 10 – Overburdened
1945 Local
Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal

"Le dije que no se mueva!" (I told you not to move!) The man yelled, pointing the gun towards Mac who had made an attempt to reach for the pregnancy suit and her pistol within. It was obvious that the man was not a terrorist, they would have probably come in, guns a-blazing and all that would be left of her and Harm was a bloody stain on the cot.

Beneath her, Mac could feel Harm's breathing slowing down. Turning only her head she glanced at the intruder to find the barrel of a shot gun dangerously close to her face. "Please. . .Por favor." She tried her best for her knowledge of the Spanish language to kick in. Out of all of linguistic abilities, it was the only one that she didn't have a strong grasp of. "Estamos. . .ayuda?. . .We need help." She said, hoping the gentleman with the gun was bilingual.

Another man stepped inside, this one younger, apparently in his teenage years and also holding a shot gun in his hands. "Quien son?" (Who are they?)

"No se. . .Buscala, ella sabe que hacer. . .Appurate!" (I don't know. Find her, she'll know what to do. Hurry!) Carefully, the older of the two settled against the wall as the younger set out running out of the shack. The man didn't seem menacing at all, more like a farm worker who was leery of the strangers he'd found on his land. That was understandable, of course, they had come in rather uninvited. "Son Americanos?"

"Americans, si. . .Ummm, problemas. . . grandes. . .We're in trouble. . .He's umm, enfermo." Mac tried her best to explain their situation, stressing that Harm was hurt. "Nesesita, ayuda."

The man nodded, comprehending what she was telling him. Still, he had an obligation to his family and wouldn't endanger them without necessity. Mac figured that they were waiting for the head of the household, but was surprised that it was a woman. She was short and stocky, with brown hair that was sprinkled with grey. She wore a Sunday dress and an apron that was covered in some sort of concoction. And she didn't seem altogether unpleased that Harm and Mac were her new guests. There was another man, however, appearing to be in his mid-twenties that was clearly unimpressed by their visitors. "Quien son ustedes?" (Who are you?) The man said, his scowl deepening as he stepped closer to the couple.

Mac straightened up as much as possible without exposing her nakedness. "Americans. . .We got lost. . .eh, perdidos."

Whatever she had said, the woman had found funny. She laughed deeply and richly, then nudged the older of the men. "Pablo, te dije que ellos ivan a venier, tu nunca me crees!" (I told you that they would come, but you never believe me.) She waved at the other man, urging him to lower his weapon. "Ellos son Americanos, del ejercito, y nessesitan nuestra ayuda." (They are Americans, from the military and they need our help.)

"Estas loca! Si alquien los escuentran, nos van a matar! Or peor!" (You are crazy! If someone finds them here, they will kill us or worse!) Pablo yelled, exasperated at the woman's 'visions.'

Sighing, she turned to the younger of the three and took the rifle from him, leaning it against a box. "Aldo, ve a la casa, trai aqua y pan, por favor." The woman smiled at Mac, who kept shooting glances of concern between the people. "Yo soy. . .I try to espeek eh, eenglish, pero, es dificir. . . hard."

Mac nodded. "I know a little Spanish. . .poquito espanol."

The woman pointed to herself and smiled. "I, Carmen del Valle, he Pablo, my old son." She said, pointing to her right and then motioned towards the left to a man that had lowered his rifle. "My son, Miguel and. . .he ran. . is Aldo."

"Nice to meet you. . .umm, mucho gusto." Comfortable enough to move, she shook Harm, frowning when he didn't respond. "Harm? Harm please." Sighing, she turned towards Carmen Graciella. "El. . .enfermo. . .injured. . .mucha . . .blood. . .sangre."

The woman moved forward, trying to see what she was referring to and quickly sat back when Mac pulled the sheets closer around her. Glancing around, she found their clothing in a sloppy, wet pile. "Miguel, busca ropas para ellos. . .Get clothes. . .for you."

"Thank you." Ten minutes later, Mac was wearing clothing that were entirely too big on her, but were a welcomed gift after spending the last few days wearing the same filthy clothing. Miguel had helped her change Harm's clothing and Carmen was now looking over the wound. "He needs a doctor."

Carmen nodded in agreement. "Si, but. . .eh, too far. . .and you hide. . .de malos. . .bad men." In disbelief Mac stared at the woman. It was no secret that they'd needed shelter and it was probably easy to deduce that they were in trouble, but the next thing that Carmen said rocked Mac to the core. "El no estaba supuesto de estar aqui con tigo. . .pero te ama mucho."

If her Spanish wasn't too rusty, the woman had told her that Harm was not the one that was supposed to be there with her. And that he loved her. "Carmen. . ."

"Caled is bad. . .He. . . steal mi. . .son. . .He kill him."

Mouth agape, Mac continued to stare at the woman. "How did you know about Caled?"

Carmen grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I see. . ." She passed her hands over her eyes. "In dream."

"You have visions in your dreams?" Dear God, how was it that something metaphysical always seemed to come to their aid. "You dreamt of us?"

"Si. . .You come. . .eh, pregnant falso. . .He come husband." Her rich Paraguayan accent, sometimes made it difficult for Mac to understand the broken English. Still, the messages were clear. "Aldo, traime una Abuja de cocer y hilo negro. Tambien, alcol, el paqutico de antibioticos y unos trapos viejos." She motioned for the boy to bring her a variety of things that included a needle, thread, alcohol, antibiotic and rags. Turning back to Harm, she peered at the gash on his side and frowned. "Pablo, tienes unos alicates?" (Do you have pliers?)

Pablo nodded and immediately went to fetch them. "Tiene algo adentro de la herida?" (Does he have something in the wound?)

"Si." Reaching for the kerosene lighter, she shoved the pliers inside, heating the metal enough to help cut off any germs. "Move. . por favor." She urged the small group to move back. "I was. . .nurse."

Even so, Mac was cautiously watching the woman's moves. Third world countries had a tendency to know third world medicine. Not that it was their fault, but sometimes they tended to be a bit savage about the sick and their methods of healthcare. She winced audibly when Carmen shoved the pliers into the wound. Harm didn't make a sound, only the tension of his body was a testament to any pain he felt. It took only a few seconds before a half inch long piece of blood stained metal was pulled out and placed next to a crate which served as a night table. "Tiene una infection. . .infection."

"Coje, mama." Aldo returned, paling at the site of the blood running down Harm's flesh. He nearly fainted at the sight, but his brother, Pablo did his best to help the teenager outside.

Carmen took the alcohol, moonshine, home made, and used for a variety of things besides consumption. She poured the liquid over the wound, drowning out any infection that may have been produced. With the rags, she cleansed the wound and then took the needle and thread. Expertly, she sewed the wound, making an almost perfect suture of the area. Once done, she poured more moonshine over the wound and finished cleaning the area. Taking another rag, she placed it over the area and used duct tape to keep it secure. "I work hospital en Ciudad del Este por vente. . .eh, twenty years. . . last year I fired for take medicine to poor niños. . .I pay. Friend bring medicine to me. . .Antibioticos, para cortar la infection."

"Yes, he needs antibiotics. . .He needs a hospital."

"Si, hospital. . .You no stay in Paraguay. You hospital in America. . .We help."

"Mama!" Pablo yelled, exasperated at what he'd heard from his mother. "Como tu puedes ayudar a estos gringos? No podemos. Si el govierno se entera, estamos en mucho problema!" Angrily, he whipped at Mac, "If Mr. Caled finds we help. We die."

Almost as if on queue sounds of tires crunching along the gravel alerted the group to their new visitors. "Mama, Pablo! Son los hombres de Caled!" Aldo ran into the shack, yelling. Terrified he glanced among everyone in the room, his gaze resting on Harm. "Que vamos acer! Por favor mama, no dejen que me lleven!" He clutched to his mother, begging her not to let Caled's men take him as they had his older brother.

Thoughts of turning herself in were first in Mac's mind. This family shouldn't have to suffer because of her and Harm. "Tell them you found us here. . .Turn us in."

Carmen sighed deeply, thoughts of her eldest son murdered by Caled's men still haunted her. She vowed never to endanger anyone ever again. Still, these two needed her help and she was bound by an ethical code to help those in need. She couldn't very well feed them to the sharks. "Tapanse, escondete y no importa lo que pase, quedanse callados." She instructed and then added. "Hide. . .abajo, under." She pointed at the blankets and asked Miguel to help her cover the pair. "Quiet."

"Carmen, no. . ."

Rather than listen, Carmen tossed the blankets at her and pushed Mac under. "I say quiet. Gracias. . .Aldo, quedate aqui. . .Pablo, Miguel, afuera." (Aldo, stay here, Pablo and Miguel, outside.) She took a deep breath, stealing herself for another confrontation with Caled. She hated the man, wished him dead and even prayed to God that he would meet his untimely demise.

Beneath the blankets, Mac held onto Harm closing her eyes, hoping that they would not be discovered, nor that Carmen's family would suffer for them. They'd already been through enough, more than she'd signed on for when Webb came to her with his plan. She ran a hand over Harm and frowned, "I'm so, so, sorry. This is my fault. . .This is my fault."

Pablo and Miguel stood flanking their mother. They watched in silence as Caled stepped out of an SUV and walked towards them carrying a basket of what appeared to be groceries. "Buenas Noches." (Good Evening.)

Carmen glared at the man, unwilling and unable to play the hypocrite, even if it meant keeping them alive. "Que quieres?" (What do you want?)

Caled placed the basket at their feet and then stepped back. To Carmen and the boy's surprise, his guards didn't step off of the car, but remained seated inside, guns at the ready. "No se anoje. . .Vengo a pedirle perdon por tu hijo. . .Lamento lo que paso." (Don't be upset. I come to ask for forgiveness. I hate what happened.)

"Estas mentiendo." (You're lying) Defiantly she stood still, maintaining that stoic front that she'd grown into ever since her husband had died of pneumonia three years prior. "Dirme la verdad. Porque estan aqui?" (Tell me the truth. Why are you here?)

"Esta bien. . .Hay un matrimonio. Una mujer y un hombre Americanos, los estamos buscando." (There is a couple. An American man and woman, we are looking for them.)

"Por que?" (Why?)

"Eso no es de importancia." (That's not important.) Caled waved over one of his guards who stepped out of the vehicle shouldering a weapon and carrying a briefcase. "Pero esto si es importante." (But this is important.) He flicked the suitcase open revealing one hundred thousand dollars in US currency.

Involuntarily, Pablo twitched. The money would be useful, maybe even enough to get them out of their home and into something in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a city where his mother dreamt of living. Carmen's hand brushed his ever gently, stopping him from telling Caled what he knew. "Ellos estuvieron aqui. . .Nos robaron nuestro pick up." (They were here. They stole our truck.)

That statement clearly lit up Caled's face. He and his guards had been searching for Harm and Mac for hours without much success. They needed to be caught and quickly, before they had a chance to head into America with any Intel they may have received. Worst of all, there were no pictures of him, nothing that could be put on television for the American people and their allies to see. Now, there were two people who could describe him and allow for the American forces to create a likeness of his which would be plastered everywhere. "Para donde cojieron?" (Which way did they go?) He shut the suitcase and placed it next to his feet.

Pablo shrugged. "Para el oeste." (Towards the West.)

There was something that Pablo was not telling him, a lie of omission that he needed to clear up quickly. Without a second thought, Caled pulled out a 45mm and pointed it at Carmen. "Porque me parece que estas ocultando algo?" (Why do I feel like you're hiding something?)

"No esta ocultandote nada!" Carmen hissed, unphased by the gun which was pointed at her. "Era un hombre alto, con pelo oscuro. Y una mujer prenyada." (I am not hiding anything! It was a tall man with dark hair and a pregnant woman.)

Pregnant? Pablo thought, giving his mother an odd expression. He'd seen Mac and nothing about her body signified a pregnancy. Nothing at all. He only hoped it wasn't one of his mother's so called 'visions.' The woman had repeatedly put them all in trouble because of those.

Satisfied, Caled lowered his weapon and reached down to grab the suitcase. "Buenas noches."

"Espera!" Pablo yelled, perturbed that the man was walking away without giving them compensation. "Y el dinero?"

Caled wasn't an entirely cruel individual. Sighing, he flicked open the case and pulled out a crisp twenty dollar bill. "Gracias."

Taking the money, Pablo turned to glare at his mother once again, voicing with his eyes what he couldn't with his mouth. She was willing to trade their lives for the lives of two strangers? Angered, he sauntered towards their home with Miguel in tow as Carmen headed, alone, towards the shack.

Under the blankets, Mac lay over Harm, sweating profusely as the minutes seemed to tick by like hours. The family had left them no more than ten minutes prior and it felt like a millennium had passed by. The periods that she'd held her breath had left her dizzy. She couldn't help but tense when the shack door opened and someone stepped in. Instead, she prayed that neither Caled nor his men would be curious enough to check what was under the blankets. The footsteps came closer and closer. Oh God! She screamed in her head as the blankets were pulled off of them. "Ya se fueron." Popping an eye open, she glanced up at Carmen who was standing over them with a smile. "They go."

Carefully, Mac eased herself off of Harm and sat on the side of the cot. She took Carmen's hands in her own and gratefully bowed her head. "Gracias."

Using her index finger, Carmen tucked it under Mac's chin and raised her head up. "No fue nada. . .I glad to. . .help." She smiled and then turned to Harm. "He need hospital. . .I try take you there, si?"

Hospital, while the ideal place for Harm to be in would not shelter them from Caled's men. "Embassy. If we. . .Si vamos al hospital. . .nos escuentran. . .they'll find us there."

Frowning, Carmen turned away from them. "Embassy in Asuncion. . .Asuncion es muy lejo. Casi 300 kilometros . .Eh, tree handred kilometers."

"Damn, I guess a hospital will do for now. . .I appreciate everything, Carmen. . .Gracias por todo."

Carmen patted Mac's hand and smiled. "Everyting will be good. . .I go check on boys. . .You sleep. . hablamos luego." (We'll speak later.)

Once they were alone, Mac pushed her cot next to his and sat down. She reached over to the makeshift night table and adjusted the flame so that a cozy glow radiated inside the structure. Settling herself in for the night, she turned on her side, glancing at Harm's still figure. The back of her hand came to rest on his forehead, feeling that his fever had started to break. He was still warm but not burning up the way he had on the trip over. The shaking, which seemed to never stop, was starting to worry her a bit more.

It wasn't from the cold, the dry clothing and the blanket would have warmed him up by now, so would her body heat. No, the shaking was from something else. "God, please don't let it be nerve damage." If so, she was fairly certain that his military career was over. The thought was almost painful and difficult to fathom. What if the Navy had deemed him unfit for duty and she would never be able to see him strutting so handsomely in his summer whites and dress blues?

Sighing, she ran her hand over his face, the stubble prickling her palm. "I'm going to get you out of here. . .I promise you."

"Mac." Harm croaked out. Slowly he'd been coming out of unconsciousness, his fear for Mac's life the only constant that kept him in contact with the real world. "Mac?"

Immediately, she pressed her hand against his cheek as her other hand wrapped around his own. "I'm here, Harm. . .I'm here."

"Are you alright?" His voice was so weak, but he needed to know that she was safe. Last thing he remembered was the inclement weather and some sort of wooden structure that she was trying to get them to.

"I'm fine. . .How do you feel?"

"Like shit." He grunted, then opened his eyes, glancing around. Groaning he closed them again. It was definitely not a hospital, the one place that he would welcome with open arms at the moment. "Not the hospital, huh?"

Sadly, she shook her head. "No. . .We're still in the Chaco. . . there's a family that's caring for us until we can get moving again."

"Great." He didn't like the idea of being cared for. Even less did he like the idea that someone knew that they were there. No matter how altruistic people were at first, he'd dealt with enough cases to know that, at a moment's notice, that kindness would be tossed aside if they were bribed or blackmailed the right away. "I feel. . .weak."

"You've lost a lot of blood. . .As soon as you're a little better, we need to head off again, find you a hospital."

"I think. . .our best bet. . .is to fly home." To start off with, he didn't really want to be at the hands of Paraguayan medicine. Also, they were being sought after and hospitals were usually the easiest places to be found. "Or go to the. . .Embassy. . ." Harm took a deep breath and immediately regretted it as pain shot up the side of his body. He held his breath, preventing himself from screaming out. The action made him shake more. It unnerved him that she hadn't answered, surely they weren't that far from the Embassy were they? Webb had made it seem like the distance was relatively short. "Mac?"

"Rest. . .You need to rest." She turned to the side and lowered herself onto the cot, then slid her body next to his. "Sleep, we'll talk again later." Mac placed a hand in his, threading her fingers through his own.