part0007

Maria Fuentes’ shaky voice echoed in the stairway. “Señor Cody, you must keep your nose down. I know you are trying to help, but we are just poor common people. If they see you here, they will kill us. You must leave! We are not fighters like you and we have already lost too much. Por favor! Leave us alone!” She shut the door, leaving him standing in the hallway.

The old, converted whorehouse was now home to eighteen families, all of whom were scared out of their wits. Fear had driven them to distrust everyone. They were typical of the people Cody had met in Caracas.

When he turned to walk back down the creaking wooden stairway, two hooded figures were waiting at the bottom. Both had prominent mustaches, but other facial features were hidden by their dark, shadowy hoods. These two individuals made the blond hair on the back of his neck stiffen up.

The words of Mrs. Fuentes replayed in his mind: “If they see you here, they will kill us.”

The men at the bottom of the stairway were waiting for him. He knew it. But even if he could defend himself successfully, there would surely be repercussions for the Fuentes family upstairs.

The game was on. “Buenos tardes , gentlemen!” He grinned as he moved down the stairway toward them. “Can you help me? Uh . . . I’m from the USA, and the last time I was here the Vasquez girls lived in that apartment at the top of this here stairway. You got any idea what happened to ‘em?”

The two individuals raised their heads but did not remove the hoods.

“Woo-hoo! I mean that younger one was hot like smokin’ fuego! You savvy English? I mean, maybe I’m in the wrong place! Like, I sort of lit up the tavern last night, uh, wassa name o’ that place? So maybe I can’t remember too good. Me loco in la cabeza, eh ?”

One of the men stepped into his path at the base of the stairs. “You are definitely in the wrong place, crazy Americano. Maybe we show you the way home, eh?”

“I—I didn’t mean nothin’. I mean, I can pay you in US dollars if you can tell me what happened to the Vasquez girls.”

The two men grabbed Cody, pushed him through the door, and threw him into the street. “Give us all your money, Americano, then go home and do not come back to our street or we break your legs and give your pantelones to the poor!”

“Okay, okay, just don’t hurt me.” Cody fumbled his hand into the side pocket of his cargos and produced a wallet with $100 cash. “Here, you—you can have it all. Just let me go, okay?”

The two men removed the cash. “It says here that you are Simon Spencer from Amarillo, Texas. Uh, where are your boots, Tejano? ”

“I—I left ‘em in Texas. All I have is these combers with holes in ‘em.”

The first man struck Cody across the face and knocked him down. The second kicked him in the midsection, then stomped his face into the concrete. “Do not come back, pobre Tejano! We will be watching for you.”

Cody watched the two men walk away laughing. He picked up his fake ID and wiped the blood from his lip as he began walking the other direction. Someone would surely discover his real identity if he stayed in this town any longer.

He checked the time. He was scheduled to meet his contact, codename Deep Blue, in just twenty-five minutes. He had parked his rented GI Surplus Jeep nearby, but when he approached his vehicle, he noticed five more hooded figures standing next to it. No more playing games.

He turned and trotted down a side alley, planning to skip a street then take a cab to his appointment. That’s when he heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks.

An infant child was screaming. He swiveled his head around attempting to locate the source of the cries. It was difficult to pinpoint because the empty buildings along the sides of the alley echoed the sound.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the cobwebs from being knocked to the ground moments earlier. This was a dangerous area and he had already stayed too long. Bad guys were waiting for him at his vehicle, and surely others would be on his trail by now. This tiny distress call represented but one child among hundreds whose panicked cries went unheeded in this city every day. Multitudes depended on the success of his mission. Should he stop to help this single infant and risk getting caught?

The words of his older sister Knoxi rolled over in his mind: “Always be willing to stop for just one. You never know when the unlikeliest encounter might change the history of the world.”

Cody slowed his thoughts and tuned his ears. The haunting cries continued. He followed them to a dumpster filled to the brim with garbage. He grabbed a wooden crate and stood on it as he began carefully removing the cardboard boxes, smelly open garbage bags, and other items from the large trash container.

Finally, after piling a heap of garbage on the ground, he saw a naked child lying amidst the filth near the bottom of the trash bin — a newborn, a baby boy, wearing no towel, no diaper, no blanket. The umbilical cord had been tied off with twine, but someone had thrown him away.

Cody took a cautious glance in every direction, then decided to lower himself into the dumpster. He carefully picked up the tiny boy. Now what?

He cradled the hungry child hoping to calm his cries and peeked out to see if anyone had noticed. The alley was deserted. He needed to call his father immediately to report in.

He hunkered down inside the dumpster, pulled out his old-style smartphone, and punched the number. The voice at the other end was obviously waiting for his call.

“Details as follows: Scheduled meeting not possible. In possession of hungry baby bird in peril. Need progressive route from these coordinates to nearest railroad.”

Cody called up the tactical M-1 App so that his father, Cody Senior, could link up and download the directions he had requested. He then cautiously climbed out of the odorous garbage bin, then immediately heard shouting.

The five-man crew which had surrounded his jeep was on to him. He began running as fast as his feet would carry him with the infant hidden underneath his shirt. The child began to cry again. Cody was blown.

When he reached the end of the alley, he turned left and fled down the street. He knew that within minutes a whole crowd of hoodies would be in pursuit of him and that he could expect help from no one in this community of fear. What were his options? He was determined. There’s no way anybody’s gonna get this child!

The next instant, he heard voices and guitar music. He came upon a crowd of people gathered for a mid-afternoon festival. A birthday party, maybe? A Venezuelan mariachi band was playing.

An elderly woman called out when she spotted him. “Señor , we have your hat and coat for you to try on!”

Cody was stunned. “Uh, gracias, señora .” He caught his breath. “Se ven como yo esperaba. ” (“They look exactly as I was expecting.”)

He walked right into the bright, gala-striped coat she was holding open for him. He was careful to not drop the child in the process. She then placed a large straw sombrero on his head.

Cody mingled with the crowd, wearing the hat and coat until he saw his pursuers pass by unaware. He then returned the coat and hat to her. “Muchas gracias señora. Que Dios esté contigo .” (“Thank you very much, ma’am. May God be with you.”)

She smiled “You must work a little on your Spanish, my young friend.” Then she moved closer. “And do not worry. The tiny treasure you protect with your life will be kept safe. There is Uber driver waiting for you if you walk through this door into my shop and come out in alley behind.”

Cody walked through the tiny shop toward the back door filled with thoughts of wonder. Was she a hero, or an angel? Ha! Mom must be prayin’ for me again.

Fifteen minutes later, after taking a ride with Uber, he stood in front of the specified building. It was an old adobe dwelling. Once proud, the structure had been converted to a boarding house in this dilapidated section of town. But with colorful lights, arched windows, and a flat roof with flowers planted on top, it was obvious that someone took pride in appearances.

He knocked. An attractive early-fifties Venezuelan woman wearing a faded yellow apron cracked open the door. Her hair was dark with streaks of gray, and her deep brown eyes were swollen and bloodshot.

Cody swallowed hard. “Uh, buenas tardes , Señora . ¿Dónde está la Cantina de Rosa?” (“ Good afternoon, ma’am. Which way to Rosa’s Cantina?” )

The woman hesitated and glanced up and down the street nervously before whispering, “Señor, we are looking for baby birds. Do you have any of those?”

“Solo tengo una, Señora . ¿Esta bien? ” (“I have only one, ma’am. Is that sufficient?”)

The woman widened the door opening. “Come in, come in.”

She led Cody to a back room. “Welcome, Gunfighter. I’m Wild Raven. Just call me Raven. Let me have the little bird.” She took the newborn from Cody. He was quiet, but still alive.

“Sorry I couldn’t find a decent towel to wrap him in. I found him in a dumpster. I was runnin’ for my life, couldn’t stop. I just carried him under my shirt. Marty trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”

Just then, a young woman who appeared to be in her middle teens stood in the doorway. She immediately eyed the child affectionately.

“This is Maria Valentes,” Raven said. “She just lost her baby, but she still has milk. She is in deep mourning, but has agreed to accept this child as a gift from God. I think you can see that she has already bonded with him.”

Maria delicately took her new son into her frail arms, then opened her robe and allowed the child to nurse at her breast. She closed the robe and turned around to face Cody. She said not a word, but her weepy brown eyes and grateful smile were enough.

Cody had never considered himself an emotional individual like his father, but as the teen mother and tiny infant slipped out of the room and into their new life together, it took all his will to hold back tears. Not only was this his first infant to rescue, it was also the first he had ever held in his hands.

“I never . . . never realized how small they are, how innocent, helpless.”

Raven reached out and placed her hand on Cody’s cheek like a mother to a son. “Gunfighter, it is not a weakness for a man to cry. My husband is a doctor. He sees the pain every day. He cries every night.”

Cody blinked several times.

“She will be a good mother,” Raven said. “Maria is one that we rescued from Los Torturadores. She will be safely transported to Dominica in two days. She has been abused in unthinkable ways, and she did not want to leave here without her baby who is gone. But now, this child and mother can comfort each other.”

Cody dropped his eyes and allowed himself a soft, measured smile.

“When you pulled that child out of the dumpster, Gunfighter, you saved two lives, not just one. And now the word has already spread through the underground. You have lifted us all to new courage and joy.”

Cody cleared his throat. “So, do you often rescue abused girls like Maria?”

“We have eight more women here and three more coming in. We have not lost one yet. We eventually get them all to freedom. So far, our activities have not been discovered by the cartels. The government cannot protect us, so we pray every day we will not be exposed.”

Cody was spellbound. He had met other heroic people since becoming a leader with “Rosa’s Cantina,” but this woman was something special.

“How long before your flight departs?” Raven asked.

Cody peeked at his watch. “I need to be at the airport in two hours.”

“You know, Gunfighter, the baby did what was natural all over your clothes. At least his little body is working. Also, you smell like the garbage dumpster. I invite you to use my shower behind that curtain. The water does not get hot, only warm. Maria would be glad to wash and dry your clothes for you while you clean up. We can have you out of here in one hour.”

“Ma’am, your hospitality is more than I expected. I’ll hand you my clothes through the curtain.”

“Good. I will hang a robe next to the shower. When you finish, you can wear the robe while we wait for Maria to finish your clothes. We will feed you a modest meal and arrange a safe ride to the airport. We know a driver.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Cody smiled.

“My husband will be home soon to examine the child.” She placed her warm hand on Cody’s swollen left cheek. “I won’t even ask what happened to your face, Gunfighter.” She smiled. “The less I know, the better. My husband will have a look at your injuries when he arrives.”