Cuba Libre (2008) (19 page)

"They might have heard us," Rudi said.

Fuentes didn't think so. "Maybe. But these walls, man, are thick." He looked at Amelia. "Three years I didn't hear nothing in there until they open the cell. Now you're ready?"

Amelia nodded and Fuentes stared at her a few moments before turning and going out.

Yaro had the horses across the yard and was through the archway before they reached it. Fuentes told him to get the Mausers from the room of the domino players, cover them with something. Yaro nodded. Now he pressed one finger to his lips and Amelia saw the blood on his hands.

They moved along this roadway through the fortress until they came to the first corridor and looked down the length of it, dimly lit with coal oil lanterns every ten meters or so. Fuentes motioned and they followed him, Amelia holding the grip of the big revolver in both hands. They came to doors that stood open and looked into bare rooms. At the first closed door Rudi pa;essed the latch and inched the door open enough to see a man asleep on a cot with an iron frame, the man lying on his back, his mouth open. Amelia, close to one side of the doorway, could hear him snoring. She watched Rudi ease the door open a little more, raise the machete in front of him and go in.

Fuentes stood on the other side of the doorway looking at her and she stared back at him waiting for the sound that would come, Amelia knowing the sound of a man being hacked with a machete, Fuentes holding her eyes she believed to test her, see how she accepted this. So when the sound came, the solid hacking, smacking sound of the blade striking a man's body, the gasp, the muffled cry cut off, she stepped into the doorway and watched Rudi Calvo raise the machete and hack down with it, the blade rising, falling, the man twisting in the bed, arms raised to protect himself, the metal frame scraping on the stone floor, Rudi grunting with the effort. When he had finished the Guardia and searched him for keys, he came toward them shaking his head.

Amelia said to Fuentes, "Two left," and saw in his eyes an expression she thought of as love.

They moved past the iron doors of cells and found the Guardia with the keys in an office no bigger than a closet, at the end of the corridor. Rudi put his revolver on the man and asked him to step out.

The canvas chair Tavalera had sat in was still in the cell; but since it was the only chair neither one would take it while the other had to sit on the damp floor. Tyler would say, Go on, sit in it." And Virgil would say, "No, you." They had become good friends since their meeting in El Morro, having no choice but to be together. They sat against the same blackened stone wall, legs stretched out, watching spiders and sometimes roaches appear and scurry around, the two patient in front of each other, waiting for whatever would happen next. They talked all the time, Tyler asking Virgil now if he'd ever shot a man.

Virgil said no, but there were some at home he'd like to have. He said, "But not ever having done the deed doesn't mean I don't know how to shoot. I'm a U.S. Marine and have been trained as a marksman. My shooting rule of thumb is, if I can see it, I can hit it. I also know semaphore, the use of flags to send messages, a skill I learnt aboard the Maine." Virgil got to his feet, like at attention. He stuck his right arm straight out, his left arm down at his side. Now he stuck his left arm straight out with the right one straight down, then stuck both arms down at an angle and said, "That's your name in semaphore, B-E-N." He sat down again, saying, "I know you've shot men, but I can tell by looking at you there was no pleasure taken in it. Was there?"

Tyler didn't get to answer. They both heard the key scrape in the lock and looked up to see the big iron door swinging open and a Guardia stumbling into the cell like he'd been pushedmthe Guardia in uniform and now a man in town clothes coming in to give him a shove and wave a pistol, telling the Guardia to go over there against the wall, the one to Tyler and Virgil's right. No sooner had the Guardia stepped over and turned around in a pose, hands on his hips, this Cuban in a dark suit and hat raised his revolver and shot the Guardia through the heart--Jesus Christ, bang, no warning, no ceremony or last words--and the Guardia fell dead. Now Fuentes was in the cell and right behind him came Amelia Brown, both holding pistols, Tyler and Virgil so surprised they sat there without moving.

Fuentes said, "Come on, let's go. Quickly."

Virgil got up and then Tyler, still looking at Amelia Brown, this girl with no business being here saving his life. Now she came over, her eyes locked on his and it was strange, this being only the third time they'd seen each other, that taking her in his arms, holding her, seemed the natural thing to do. But that's what he did, opened his arms and felt her press against him like they were long-lost sweethearts. It made him wonder who was saving who, but felt so good he didn't make a fuss, ask her what was going on. Now she was looking up at him again, worry in her eyes. What she said, close between them, was, "Tyler, I hope to God you're glad to see me."

Fuentes, at the cell door, waved them to come on, hurry. Once they were in the corridor Rudi said, "There's another guard?" looking at Tyler and Virgil in their filthy clothes for help.

"We've seen four different ones," Tyler said, "two this morning and the big cheese himself, Tavalera."

"He left," Rudi said. "The rest are dead, unless there is the one more."

Fuentes, still anxious, said, "You want to stand here and talk about it?" He started back along the corridor followed now by Rudi and Virgil, Amelia and Tyler bringing up the rear.

She was holding his arm and said, "You smell awful, but it's all right. I brought soap."

That was fine, but what he wanted to know: "You killed all the guards?"

"They did."

"Walked in and started shooting?" "Rudi used a machete." "You saw it?"

"Yes--and Yaro, another policeman, he used one."

Tyler said, "I know Rudi," but then couldn't think of what to ask her; there was so much he didn't know.

They came to the roadway that tunneled through the fortress, followed it and soon they could see Yaro Ruiz and the horses, one with the bedroll, one with the Mausers rolled into a hammock, daylight showing above them in the entrance arch.

"Yours is the horse with the bedroll," Fuentes said, half turning to speak to Tyler as they kept moving. "Your clothes are in it." He said, "Listen, I'm sorry about Charlie Burke, but we can't talk now. We go south from here fast as we can to Cinega, where we have good friends with a place to rest. We go on and stop at San Antonio de los Bafios, where there is a house we can stay for the night. Tomorrow we go all the way to Bfitabano, on the coast."

They were approaching the horses, Yaro ready to hand them their reins.

"From Bfitabano you go on a lighter to Cienfuegos," Fuentes said, "and catch a British steamboat to Jamaica, quick, before America declares war. Your consulate people and all the correspondents have already left."

Virgil said, "If the war's gonna be in Cuba, what do I want to leave for? I'm here."

Tyler said, "And I have business to take care of." Only that with Fuentes telling them to hurry and mount the horses that were skittish now, throwing their heads, ready to run. Yaro handed reins to Virgil and then to Tyler. Fuentes stepped into the saddle with the Mausers tied behind it and nudged his horse from shade into the bright sunlight of the parade grounds. Now Yaro and Virgil were mounted and joined him, looking back,-Fuentes waving his hand again, telling them to come on.

Tyler stepped into the saddle and yelled at them to go and looked down at Amelia opening the saddlebag as her horse moved from the dim roadway into the sun.

"What're you doing?"

"Putting the gun in here," Amelia said, having trouble with the horse moving away from her.

It was Tyler who saw the Guardia step out of the doorway that was along the wall of doors and arched windows to their right. A Guardia raising a carbine, aiming at the three riders crossing the grounds toward the gate.

Tyler yelled at them, "Behind you!" and saw Fuentes and the others turn in their saddles, Rudi and Yaro reining their horses halfway around and raising their revolvers, the Guardia in that moment firing, throwing the bolt of his Mauser carbine and firing again. Tyler saw Yaro sit straight up in the saddle and then sink forward to hunch over his horse and seem to become part of it. Rudi and Fuentes, their pistols extended, their horses sidestepping. He saw the Guardia throw the bolt and raise the carbine and Tyler heard a gunshot in his ears it was so loud, saw the Guardia hit and sink back against the door frame and saw Amelia now, looking down at her, Amelia thumbing the hammer of her revolver and firing across her saddle, the butt of the big pistol in both hands resting on the seat, Amelia cocking and firing again and the Guardia dropped the Mauser and fell into the doorway.

Tyler kept watching her now, Amelia swinging up into the saddle, glancing at him as she said, "Let's go," and they followed the three horses across the parade and through the sally port, Rudi with the reins of Yaro's horse, leading it as they crossed the drawbridge at a dead run and were out of the fortress of Atars.

Chapter
Fourteen.

FUENTES BROUGHT THEM TO THE caves near San Antonio de los Bafios: caves, he told them, that were like being inside a cathedral they were so big. Full of bats, of course, millions of them, and dung beetles eating the guano and newborn bats that sometimes fell from the ceiling. So the caves were not a good place to stay, to make camp. They rode past the black openings in the hillsides to a farmhouse sitting at the mouth of an arroyo, a house made of boards and adobe, wooden bars on the open windows, a thatched roof, a chicken pen in the yard but no chickens, or people living here, the house empty. Fuentes said the family, to their misfortune, were pacificos; they tried to be neutral and that was impossible. A scouting party from Islero's army had raided the farm and taken food, and when the Volunteers in San Antonio de los Bafios learned of it, they came and killed the family for giving aid to the enemy. Shot the father, his younger brother, his mother, his wife and his four children. "All the way here," Fuentes said, "you see what General Weyler left before he went home. Nothing. Like your General Sherman when he marched across Georgia to the sea. Listen, battles are fought over the capture of food, the hope that to win will mean something to eat."

They found field corn they could roast, squash and plantains. Fuentes had brought candles to light the house when it was dark. Now he'd ride into San Antonio, see what he could buy, maybe have chicken for supper. Then when he returned they could discuss this business of who was leaving and who was staying. He said to Amelia, "Imagine being a hostage and think what to write to Mr. Boudreaux, how hungry you are, how sure you believe they going to kill you if he refuse to send the money. Find out, uh, how much he loves you."

He was their leader and could speak to her this way if he wanted.

The two policemen were no longer on this trip. Rudi, less than a mile from Atars and leading Yaro, had gone off in the direction of Cerro, on the edge of Havana, Yaro needing a doctor before he bled to death.

Virgil walked the perimeter of the farmyard with a Mauser cradled in his arm, the marine peering through the dusk at silent hills and pastures, came back to the house and sat on the door stoop t8 eat plantains.

Tyler put the horses out to graze, their forelegs hobbled. Amelia strolled out, the sky dark now. She said she had never seen so many empty homes, all the poor people killed or imprisoned in those camps. She asked Tyler where his family had lived in New Orleans and they talked a little about the city he had left as a boy, polite with each other, Tyler sensing that they were both holding back, alone for the first time and feeling what it was like. He said well, it was time he washed the prison off him, bathe in one of those rock pools by the caves. Amelia gave him a bar of soap with lilac scent.

He sat in cold water in the dark, the rock tub shallow. It was strange, but smelling the soap made him think of Camille, back home with a husband now, the railroad dick. He hadn't thought of her once since turning his head to see Amelia Brown in that hotel dining room, and now Amelia's soap reminded him of an old girl he'd been fond of, a whore who never pretended to be anything else. He wondered how Amelia Brown saw herself. If being the pleasure of one man instead of anybody that came along made a difference. He dried himself with his blanket, spread it over a rock and put on a pair of canvas pants and a shirt he'd bought in Havana, and his old hat Fuentes had stuck in the bedroll. It felt good to be wearing a hat again. His new boots were about broken in. A guard at the Morro had wanted to take them off him; Tyler told the man he'd have to kill him first, and if he did he'd never get the boots off.

He started back and came to Amelia waiting for him in the dark, a few yards from the rock pool.

"What were you doing, watching me?"

"If I was," she said, "I didn't see much."

Already they were closer to knowing each other. He could feel it.

She said, "I want to ask you something, why you're staying."

It surprised him. He told her Boudreaux still owed him for the horses, forty-five hundred and forty-five dollars. Watched her nod, saying that's what she thought, and watched her draw on the cigarette she was smoking, the tip glowing in the dark. Now she offered him one from the pack and held her cigarette up to give him a light.