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37 |Romero Farm Outside Dimas, Pinar del Rio, Cuba
Tosh bolted upright in his bed, crying out as he immediately regretted the move. Another explosion followed by several more in the distance was followed by heavy gunfire.
Maricela darted into the room, concern on her face. “Are you okay?”
He laid back down, gripping his ribs and nodding unconvincingly. “Are you hearing that?”
“Yes. Javiero has gone to see what’s happening.”
“He shouldn’t. It could be dangerous.”
“There’s no controlling the boy. He’s obsessed with all things military and can’t wait to join the army.”
“And he’s afraid that me being caught here could end his hopes.”
“Probably.”
He gestured toward the window. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“No. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it before.”
He frowned. It had to be because of him. He had counted six explosions spaced out over perhaps a minute, if that, then the gunfire. That suggested somebody was hit in an ambush. The gunfire could have been defensive fire, or it could have been mixed in with offensive. He couldn’t tell from this distance, but the gunfire wasn’t dwindling, a battle continuing to rage. “How far away was that road you were talking about?”
“A couple of kilometers.”
“And it’s the only road in the area?”
She nodded. “Other than those used by the farmers.”
“And it leads to Dimas where your mother said they probably took the boat?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think this has something to do with you?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid it might.” He had to take her into his confidence, for it might be the only way to protect her and her family. He beckoned her closer and lowered his voice. “I need to trust you with something.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand. “You can tell me anything.”
He smiled at her innocence. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Her jaw dropped. “You are a spy!”
He chuckled. “Nothing so grandiose, I assure you, though I do work for the American government. My boat is very important, and your government can’t have it. It could cause a lot of problems, maybe even war.”
Her eyes filled with fear. “What’s so important about the boat?”
“It’s not the boat. It’s what’s in it. And those explosions we just heard might be my people coming to destroy it.”
“If that’s true, then that means there are Americans in the area, doesn’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Then I should go find them and bring them here so they can take you with them!”
He vehemently shook his head. “No, we can’t do that. You could be captured and your entire family arrested. What it does mean, though, is that my people have probably accomplished their mission and likely have escaped. Your government is going to start searching the entire area for where they might be hiding.”
Her face paled. “They could come here!”
“Exactly. We need to find a place where I can hide until they’ve gone.”
“But you can’t move.”
“There’s no choice. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to get rid of any evidence that I’ve been here. Bandages, my clothes, that stretcher you brought me in on. We need to get everything out of the house.”
Her face brightened. “My father’s burning garbage right now, so we could put most of it in there.”
“That’s good, but I don’t think that’ll help with the stretcher. It would just melt.” He cursed to himself. The stretcher was the one thing that if discovered, could be linked back to the boat, and would prove that not only was there a survivor the Cubans weren’t aware of, but that locals had helped that survivor. “Your brother said the military had left the beach?”
“Yes.”
“Then take the stretcher and throw it in the water.”
“Why?”
“Because then it’ll look like it just came off during the storm. If they find that on land, they’ll know somebody helped someone off the boat.”
She paled further. “I’ll go do it right now.”
“Okay. Be careful you’re not seen.”
She bolted from the room and the front door slammed moments later, leaving him to pray the troops sure to be swarming the area didn’t intercept her. And now he had to turn his mind to other things.
Like how to let the eyes in the sky know that not only was he alive, but that he was mere kilometers away from troops they already had inserted.
Maricela raced down the lane with the stretcher in her hand, her arm quickly tiring from the weight of the solid plastic and its constant wagging and slapping against her leg. The gunfire had stopped, and she didn’t know what that meant. Did it mean the good guys, the Americans, were dead, or did it mean they had wiped out the other guys, her countrymen? She was of mixed emotions. She loved her country, though she hated its government, and she hated the difficulties she and her family faced for no other reason than ideology. But the soldiers that the Americans would have killed were defending their homeland, her homeland. They weren’t invaders, they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were merely doing their duty. And as much as she loved the idea of America and of living there someday, her heart ached at the thought of the price paid, all over a boat.
Her lungs burned from the effort of dragging the awkward stretcher back to the sea. An airplane screeched overhead and she dropped into the tall grass as it raced over the area toward where the gunfire had occurred. She grabbed the stretcher with both hands, lengthwise against her chest, and rushed up the berm that lined the beach. She dropped to her knees and scrambled forward, peering over the edge to make sure the area remained clear, and sighed with relief as she found it empty. She raced down to the water, wading in up to her waist before she shoved it ahead of her.
“Maricela?”
She tensed and nearly vomited at the sound of someone calling her. She spun around to see her friend, Carmella Villalobos, waving at her. She waved back and forced a smile as Carmella waded into the water.
Carmella nodded toward the stretcher, bobbing on the waves. “What’s that?”
“I think it’s a stretcher.”
“A stretcher? From what?”
Maricela shrugged. “Probably some boat. It was quite the storm last night, so it might have ripped off, or maybe a boat sank. I don’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t you keep it? It could come in handy.”
“I was planning to, but it had an American flag on it. So, you know.”
Her friend nodded, understanding the implications. “Yeah, I wouldn’t keep it either. You were right to push it back in. If they found you with it, it could just lead to questions.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Did you hear that gunfire and those explosions?”
“Yeah, do you know what’s going on?”
Carmella shook her head. “No, but it was pretty scary. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like that except in a movie.”
“Me neither. If something’s going on, it’s probably best we go home.”
Carmella agreed. They exchanged a hug then both headed for home. Maricela reached the top of the berm and strode into the grass then stopped, her gut telling her something was wrong. She dropped down and crawled back up to the edge and gasped at the sight of Carmella wading out into the water and grabbing the stretcher.
Maricela scurried back down the hill, her mind racing. What was she thinking? Did she want the stretcher for herself, despite the American flag she had mentioned? Unfortunately, Maricela couldn’t remember if there was an American flag on it—she had just made that up on the spot. What would Carmella do if she discovered the lie? Would her friend be pleased she had been mistaken, so she could keep the stretcher without any risk to her or her family, or would she wonder why she had been lied to by a friend she had known since childhood?
But why would she have taken the risk in the first place?
Her eyes shot wide as she sprinted for home. If Carmella had seen her carrying the stretcher toward the beach, then she had known she was lying the entire time. And if there was one thing she knew about Carmella and her family, it was that they were staunch communists, and wouldn’t hesitate to turn her in.
That could mean they only had minutes to hide Tosh.
Maricela’s mother, Yoselin, entered the room, her hands on her hips as she stared at Tosh. “I think you’ve been lying to us.”
Tosh sighed. “Only out of necessity, I assure you.”
“So, you are a spy?”
“No, but I do work for the American government.”
She frowned. “What did you tell my daughter that had her racing out of here with your stretcher?”
“I told her that the gunfire and explosions might be related to me, and that your government would soon be searching the area, and that she had to get rid of any evidence I was here.”
Yoselin paled slightly. “If what you say is true, I would agree. However, removing a stretcher and burning bandages, like I already have my husband doing, doesn’t exactly help us when the biggest piece of evidence lies in a bed, incapacitated.”
He grunted. “I know. Any suggestions?”
“With the stretcher gone, I’m tempted to claim I found you on my doorstep and tended to your wounds like I was trained to, while sending one of my sons to town to report your arrival.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he said. “And if they do arrive, that’s exactly what you should do. Sacrifice me, and I’ll tell them the same story, that I washed up on shore and I found your house.” He pursed his lips. “In fact, I think you should send one of your sons now to report me. It’s better that your government receives a report from you, rather than finding me when they search the area.”
“I think you might be right, however, when I sent my son to go report that we found you, we had no way of knowing that you spoke Spanish and overheard our conversation, then escaped unbeknownst to us.”
He smiled slightly. “A very plausible scenario with one flaw.”
“And that is?”
“That there’s no way I could walk on my own.”
“They don’t know that.”
He grunted. “They don’t. But it doesn’t change the fact I can’t walk very far, if at all.”
“I have an idea where we might hide you. It won’t be pleasant, especially if you have to stay there a while, but I’m guessing it’s better than the alternative.”
“Considering I’m facing torture then death, I would have to agree. And just where do you plan on hiding me?”
“Some place even the soldiers won’t want to look.”