It happens to all of us. In different ways, but no one's immune. The aftermath of a battle, of killing, of nearly dying … There are consequences. Psychological consequences. When the war is over, it isn't really over.
-Peacemaker
"Santa Maria!" The figure over Jaime reeled back. A dog went crazy, snarling, barking.
Jaime tried to jump up, fell, crawled. Arms grabbed Jaime from behind, lifted him. He thrashed.
"Calma. Cálmese."
"Suéltame!" Jaime shrieked.
"Calma. No voy a hacerte daño."
Jaime's burst of energy dried up. He sagged. The struggle had jostled his leg and it seared so fiercely his head spun.
The man holding him called towards the barking, "Honey, shut that chucho up and get a blanket."
It was night but even so the surroundings were visible under the clear sky. In the dim was the shape of a second man holding back a lunging dog. The man, Honey, hissed out a reprimand and the dog went silent.
Jaime shivered before he realized he was cold. Nausea rattled from his chest to his forehead. His knees gave out.
Had it been three hours? Was his body shutting down?
The arms holding him tightened. "Calma," the voice purred like a fire. "Todo está bien. Estás bien." The man was a vaqueiro, complete with blue jeans and broad rimmed hat. Behind him were three horses. Two were saddled. A third was a sorry looking thing with skin hanging over its ribs. The creature drooped, nose nearly in the dirt. It summed up how Jaime felt.
The second vaquero Honey, was younger though Jaime couldn't tell his age exactly in the dark. Honey returned from his horse with a spare saddle blanket. Trotting proudly at his heels was a scruffy grey and white dog. The mutt paced doggedly around Jaime, trying to sniff him. The young vaquero wrapped the blanket around Jaime's waist, tugging it snug.
Honey offered a canteen. "Agua?"
Jaime didn't remember moving. All of the sudden cool water poured down his parched throat. He downed half before he had to sputter for a breath.
A pause from the older one. "Acaba de cruzar?"
They thought he was an illegal. "No," Jaime said switching to English. "American." He tipped his head back and drank the rest.
The vaqueros glanced at each other. "Sure you are. How long you been out here?"
Jaime didn't meet the men's eyes. What was he supposed to tell them? He was on the run from some ... agency? That he'd just blown up a bridge? Paranoia scurried over his nerves.
Witnesses. Eliminate them.
He shoved the canteen at them. "Just ... leave me alone."
"You can barely stand," the older vaquero said. "Cálmese. Vamos a ayudarle."
"I don't want your help!" Jaime tried to back away. His leg throbbed in protest.
"We won't turn you in," the vaquero said. "No vamos a llamar a la policía. Now come on. Can't leave you out here to die, now can I? El rancho isn't far. Vamanos."
"You don't understand …" Jaime stopped. How could he tell them?
Honey lifted Jaime up like he were a pillow and placed him in a saddle. The other vaquero mounted a pale brown horse.
"Pass her up," the man called down. It was then Jaime noticed an animal lying in a pile of blankets. Honey scooped up the foal as easily as he had Jaime. The foal kicked at first, but Honey muttered something to her velvet ears and she stilled. The two vaqueiros situated the foal over the neck of the adult horse. Her reedy legs lay across the larger horse's neck, its head resting in the crook of the vaquero's arm. Before mounting behind Jaime, Honey checked on the starved mare he was towing. The creature let out a weary whiny.
The despondent caravan ambled through the night, moon and stars lighting their way. The ride was a daze for Jaime. All he processed were the uncomfortable slosh of liquid in his empty stomach, the warmth of the blanket, and the growing ache in his thigh. He couldn't focus on anything. Exhaustion was like a chain around his limbs. He let it drag him into unconsciousness.
The constant tic of his heartbeat broadcast as a squeak through a machine. Peacemaker's eyes felt puffed up to the size of cantaloupes. His skin itched like a thousand tap dancing fire ants. His thoughts drifted like smoke in a bottle. He was doped to high heaven. But he was trained to resist such things. He forced the smoke to still, then pried his eyes open to stare at a blurry white room.
"About time." Peacemaker focused on the figure seated by the wall. "You look like hell," Bordeaux said.
"Feel like hell," he spoke. His voice was raspy, words slightly slurred. "How long I been out?"
"Been almost a full day. We're in a hospital just outside downtown El Paso. A brief stint in surgery and sixteen stitches. Congratulations."
"A full day?" Peacemaker swore and tried to sit up. A horrible idea. A stabbing pain sliced through his abdomen. He had to remind himself he'd been stabbed in the gut. He rested on his elbows, refusing to give in. "The others?" he asked.
"The pawns that were in the other car …" Bordeaux shrugged a shoulder and Peacemaker remembered the eighteen wheeler that had plowed into the Hummer. He braced himself as she went on. "They're in ICU. Might not make it."
Peacemaker's muscles sagged, suddenly weighed down. He should have used the high caliber on the Texan. Taken him out right away. Should have warned the other team faster. He should have known. Should have been watching. Should have seen. What happened? How did this happen?
"It's not your fault," Bordeaux said.
"Sure."
His men, his fault.
Much slower this time, Peacemaker eased himself up, grimacing as he did. "Any news on the Texan?"
"We put out feelers. Watching family and friends. Have an APB out for gunshot victims for all hospitals in a fifty mile radius."
Peacemaker rubbed the bandages over his middle. His insides felt scrambled. Hopefully everything was still intact. "What about satellite imagery? Or irregularities on airport radar?"
Bordeaux cocked an eyebrow. "You almost died, you know."
"Not the first time."
"You need to rest. To recover."
"No time for that nonsense. That my laptop over there? Want to see if the white pawn back at castle has any news."
In moments a window was open and the sleepy-eyed Nadia stared back from a window in the screen. "Your face looks like it got hit by a city bus," She said. "Like, three times."
He ignored her. "Tell me you got something new on that suit."
The white pawn let out a groan of protest. "I've run every test invented on what little material we harvested. I've hacked and cracked and eavesdropped on a thousand bioengineers, a million chemists, and like five billion regular engineers. No one is talking about this suit. No one knows anything about the exoskeleton."
Peacemaker lifted the laptop's camera to his face. "So no one else knows anything, but didn't you tell me you were better than everyone else?"
Nadia laughed. "And you believed me?" But she looked pleased. "I'll try a different angle. Give me a few hours."
"Ya got one. Check in with me by then."
"Easy, boss man. Genius can only work so fast. Gonna need more time than -"
"We don't have more time," he barked. His stitches pinched as he did. "The Texan's done too much already. Do it." He slammed the lid closed, cutting her off.
Bordeaux eyed him as she retrieved the laptop. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"We're running out of time."
"Forget the deadline. You've done more than enough. Nearly died. Is a promotion worth risking your life over?"
"This isn't about me," he shot back. "It's about those men and women who died when the zoo was breached. It's about those civilians from the bridge. It's about those two soldiers lying in ICU. It's about the dozens who might follow them if that kid is left out there." He closed his eyes and leaned back. A dull ache rattled through his body, centering on his midriff. But something sharper cut at his conscience.
He captured Jaime. That was his job. But … maybe he failed. Pushed too hard. Lied too much. What if he had tried to listen more or got more intel before the interrogation. What if he had made Jaime this way? Made him too desperate? If only he had taken more time. If only …
Peacemaker covered his face. Legions could be brought to their knees with that lamment.
"I need some rest," he spoke.
He heard her move towards the door. "I'll check on the others."
What if …
If only …
Jaime was in a bed. Warm. Safe.
Unconfirmed. Assess surroundings for hostiles.
He jerked up, hands flying to his body. His hands touched skin. Real skin. He sighed out a breath in relief.
The room was small, lit by a single window over the bed. To one side was a small dresser with an alarm clock. It was nearly six at night. A chair at the foot of the bed doubled as a dresser, stacked high with folded clothes. He was alone.
"See? No hostiles." Jaime lifted up the quilt to examine his leg. He pulled up a borrowed pair of basketball shorts. The onyx bandage was still in place. It still ached.
Last night was a blur of being carried, examined, and spoon fed. He'd been too tired to care who did what to him. He stood, wobbly, but the pain wasn't as bad as before.
Jaime's stomach cramped when the smell of grease hit his nose. Hot food. His mouth watered. He pulled on a spare t-shirt and hobbled to the door. A hallway led to the living room. Beyond that was the kitchen. Within, he spied a plate of tortillas, a skillet of refried beans, a dish of rice … A figure stepped into his view and Jaime lurched back.
"Ah, bella durmiente is awake," an abuela said. Her skin was dark and wrinkled from years of working in the sun. She beamed at him. "Sit down. Eat," she ordered in Spanish. "You feeling better?"
"Yes, mam."
"Doña Carla," she corrected. "Skin and bones. Barely ate a thing last night. Enrique and Honey found you por la gracia de Dios. They were out looking for missing horses. Foal sprained her leg and the mother wouldn't leave her. Niño!" she suddenly scolded. "Eso sólo? Take more. Eat!"
Jaime protested meekly when Doña Carla scooped a mound of rice onto his plate. "I want to make sure everyone else can have some."
Doña Carla laughed. "I make more. Eat."
Jaime did. Food had never tasted so good in his life. The refried black beans were smooth and moist with fresh queso grated overtop. It exploded with flavor. Must have been fried in bacon grease. Steaming rice was sticky but firm, seasoned with herbs. Fresh salsa verde spiced up the meal and of course the tortillas were pan made, just the right thickness, firm but not chewy. Ay Dios, he could die happy.
All the while Doña Carla chatted while she bustled around the kitchen. After Jaime's second helping, two more people entered. One was the vaquero from last night, Enrique. The other was his wife and Doña Carla's daughter, Lluvia. They sat and dug into the fresh pan of beans as they filled in Doña Carla on the day's happenings.
Enrique scooped rice and beans with his tortilla. "Foal's healing up. Mother's still on the fence."
"Arena will be fine," Lluvia said. "I stayed with her all night."
"Still won't move. Think she's got a fever."
"Who's the doctor here? You always doubt me, Enrique. But who's always right?"
He winked at Jaime. "Learn this lesson young and you'll be lucky old. La mujer siempre es cierto."
"This is why I let him marry my hija," Doña Carla added. "Un hombre inteligente."
"More like a whipped man," Enrique said. This drew cries of outrage from his wife. Their banter went on.
Jaime was absorbed into the family as though he had always been there. Total comfort. He was safe.
Negative.
Jaime's skin prickled and his joints locked.
Jaime was vulnerable. Subjects were a threat.
No.
They saw too much. They knew too much. They could lead Jaime's enemies right to him. Witnesses. Eliminate them.
"You can't be full yet," someone said to him.
Jaime stared up at Doña Carla, breath choked back. How would it look? Her eyes dulled and sparkless. Would she fight back? Would any of them? How would he do it? Shake their muscles from their bones. Incineration. Or just snap their necks?
"Leave him be, mami," Lluvia spoke. "Poor kid's gonna be rolling out the door."
"Give me a year and that not happen. Look how skinny. Hueso sólo!"
Jaime swallowed several times. Trying to focus on something, anything but the fizzing in his head.
Eventually everyone had their fill. Doña Carla left to take a plate to Honey. With her gone and the conversation spent, the couple turned their full attention on Jaime. He squirmed in his seat.
"Can't keep calling you, niño," Enrique grinned. "What's your name?"
Reveal nothing.
"Paco," Jaime said.
"Your English is very good."
"I told you, I'm American."
Lluvia bent closer. "Where's your family, Paco?"
Reveal nothing.
"They uh … They're in Albuquerque." It was a city in New Mexico about four hours from El Paso.
"I bet they're pretty worried about you," she said. "How about we give them a call. Let them know you're okay."
Jaime chewed on his lip.
Lluvia noded. "That's what I thought. Where you really from, Paco? You have a family? Someone you can go to?"
Jaime felt tears bite at his eyes. Go? There was nowhere to go. But he had to leave before the suit took over. And when he did go he'd be alone again.
"You in some sort of trouble?" she went on. "You can tell us."
Reveal nothing.
"Coyotes?" she guessed.
"Nothing like that," Jaime said.
"Okay. Then what? Why were you all the way out in the desert? How did you get hurt?"
Subject presenting too many inquiries. Enough stalling. Eliminate them.
"No!" Jaime jumped up, focusing every ounce of willpower he could. Push it back. Keep it down. Don't let it out.
His brain buzzed like a beehive.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
No.
The humming dimmed. Jaime was sweating. He gasped in breaths. Lluvia and Enrique stared alarmed.
Dios, don't let him have changed. Dios mio. Please let him be human.
He peered at his hands. They trembled. They were his hands.
Lluvia rose. "It's okay, Paco. You don't have to talk about it now. When you want to open up …" She reached for him, arms open in a hug to comfort him.
"Don't touch me. Get away!" Jaime's heart pounded and he reeled back. Her arms dropped. "S-sorry. I just don't want anyone to touch me. I just … I'm gonna go to bed."
In the guestroom, Jaime sank to the floor, sobbing silent and tearless as fear crowded in. Hold on to Jaime. Hold on to who he was. Don't forget himself. He clutched his knees to his chest.
Running. Torture. Fighting. Lying. Fear.
Who was he again?
Loose Spanish translation as taken in context:
abuela - elderly woman / grandmother
acaba de cruzar? - did you just cross?
agua - water
ay Dios - oh God
bella durmiente - sleeping beauty
calma - take it easy
cálmese - calm down
chucho - mutt
doña - mistress / head of the house
Dios - God
Dios mio - my God
el rancho - the ranch
eso sólo? - only that?
estás bien - you're okay
hija - daughter
hueso sólo - only bone
la mujer siempre es cierto - the woman is always right
mami - mom
niño - boy
no vamos a llamar a la policía - we won't call the police
no voy a hacerte daño - I'm not going to hurt you
por la gracia de Dios - by the grace of God
queso - cheese
Santa Maria - Holy Mary
suéltame - let me go
todo está bien - everything's okay
un hombre inteligente - a smart man
vamanos - let's go
vamos a ayudarle - we're going to help you
vaqueiro - cowboy