Bobby looked at Anda with a terrible sadness in his eyes. He spoke in Tarahumara, “I’m sorry I failed you.”
New tears came from Anda’s eyes and she could barely choke out the words, “No, it’s not-” Godoy jabbed the pistol hard into her ribs as he grabbed her hair with his other hand and shook her head, saying “Shut-up that Indian talk! You shut-up and watch him die!”
Jesse and Johnny had a hard time with Godoy’s order. They were brutal thugs and ruffians, happy to beat others to a pulp, to break bones and terrorize men or rape women. They had killed men in vicious fights: Jesse killing two in a barroom knife-fight, and Johnny shooting another in a bad drug deal where over seventy rounds of gunfire were exchanged, but they had never murdered someone who was defenseless.
Here, there was not going to be a choice. The crazy Colonel was ready to shoot them if they didn’t impale the man on the rusted hooks. The brothers looked at each other a long moment, then shifted so they were on each side of Bobby. Jesse started to speak to Bobby, then looked down and muttered, “Damn.”
He raised his head and nodded to Johnny and they lifted Bobby high in the air, letting his weight carry him back and down. He hit the hooks and the brothers let him fall, but the hooks failed to catch. Bobby’s shirt caused the points to slide, and the Barbosas lost their grip as he fell to the floor. The torn shirt hung from the hooks and two ugly red scratches showed on each side of Bobby’s spine. Anda sobbed, great gasping sounds of anguish coming from her. “Please, no. I will do anything you wish, anything, for the rest of my life! Please don’t hurt him! Please, I beg you!”
“Do it again,” Felipe said, his pistol now pointed at the Barbosas.
The Barbosas positioned themselves on each side of Bobby and lifted him once more. Anda screamed and sobbed, great racking sounds of grief so deep it seemed her soul had received a mortal wo
und.
Bobby went up and back. As his own weight forced his body onto the hooks, his mouth opened in a mute scream and the veins stood out on his neck. One hook caught under the ribcage near his spine and went in deep, but the other slid up his back and didn’t penetrate until it was higher, going in under the shoulderblade. The Barbosas stepped away and looked at him.
Bobby hung at an angle. His eyes were closed and his flex-cuffed hands and dangling legs moved in small, feeble circles. Anda was limp in Cleto’s arms, sobbing and covering her face with her hands. He let her drop to the floor.
Felipe laughed and said, “Mata looks like a bug on a thorn.” He walked to the hanging man and looked at his face. “You’re not so tough now, are you, Mister Bad-ass?” Godoy put his pistol against Bobby’s leg and pushed him to make him swing on the hooks. He smiled at the look on Bobby’s face, then Felipe holstered his pistol and said, “Leave the girl here. We’ll go out, make the phone calls, then come back. I want a little more fun with our bug.” He looked at the scowling Barbosas and said, “I’ve done this before. He’ll live several hours, maybe half a day. Plenty of time for us.” Johnny looked at Godoy and spat on the floor.
Anacleto felt nervous about the Barbosas and stepped closer to Godoy. The Colonel drew his pistol, leaving it hanging in his hand as he looked at the wet spot where Johnny spat. He said, “Do we have a problem here? Is there something wrong with the generous sum I pay you?” He clicked off the safety on the cocked .45 semi-automatic, “You want me to terminate our partnership? I could do that for you, right now.”
The brothers glared at Godoy, then leaned a little toward each other as if passing something telekinetic between them. With a glancing look and nod at his brother, Jesse took a deep breath and blew it out. Still scowling, he said, “You got the gun.”
“Yes, I do.” Godoy looked at them a little longer, then smiled, holstered his pistol and said, “I think you should be rewarded for such efforts today. You are brave men. You deserve more. I will double what I pay you.” He didn’t wait for them to answer, but walked out the far door. The Barbosas hesitated a second, then followed. Anacleto was the last one, and he said to Anda, “I’ll be back for you, you little bitch,” as he closed the door.
Anda wiped the tears from her face and rushed to Bobby, but didn’t know what to do. Bobby opened his eyes, and Anda touched his legs. Bobby’s voice was hoarse, weak, “Need to cut them,” he held out his bound wrists. She looked around, desperate to find something, then remembered the flint blade. Anda pulled it out, but she was too short to work on Bobby’s restraints with any force. She had an idea, and picked up the bamboo stick. Holding the flint blade sideways, Anda cut a split into the bamboo down to the joint. It closed when she removed the blade, but she turned the point up and worked the fluted base into the splits. The blade went in a little, then stopped. Anda picked up the edge of her skirt and folded it over the blade to keep from cutting her hand as she pushed down. The blade went deeper, finally setting against the joint. She tried to wiggle the point, but it was in as solid as if glued.
Anda stood in front of Bobby and extended the short spear. She sawed the blade across the tough plastic cuffs, and they parted after a half-dozen sawing motions. Bobby croaked, “Can’t get down. I need to...stand on your back...lift off the hooks.” Anda bent over and helped Bobby place his feet on her back. She felt his weight just as she heard a scraping noise from across the room.
Anacleto Holguin came through the opened door. He opened his shirt to expose a bulbous stomach so large his navel pointed downward at an angle. Anacleto had an open bottle of whiskey in one hand. He took a long swig as he closed the door and shot the bolt.
The little Tarahumara felt Bobby’s feet quivering as he tried to stand. Anacleto started across the room, reaching down and underneath his stomach to unzip his pants with his free hand. He said, “What are you doing? Don’t bother with him, he’s a dead man. The Colonel has claimed him, so there’s no sense in trying to get him down. Now you, you little witch, take your clothes off, and I might let you live.”
Bobby pushed up with all the strength he had and felt the handles scrape free of the iron straps. He fell forward, his boots slipping off Anda’s back and he hit the concrete on his side. Anda cried out and tried to catch him, but was too late. The momentum of the heavy steel hook handles swung them down, twisting the curved points in a terrible arc deep inside Bobby’s body until they clanged to a jarring stop against the floor. Bobby gasped and his eyes rolled up in his head.
Anda started toward him but Cleto was closing. She choked a sob and dodged away. She moved to the far wall to put distance between them. Cleto took another swig and grinned at her. He moved faster than she would have believed and she sprinted away in zigzags, maneuvering her way around the room.
Cleto was clever, and in the square room, he figured out fast that he could cut the open space down by moving sideways in front of her, rather than straight at her. He cut the room in half, then worked her back, one step at a time, until she had little room left.
Anda panicked when she saw Bobby motioning her with a weak hand to run by him. In the other hand he held the short spear. She let Cleto come closer, then spun away and ran by Bobby.
At that moment, loud noises of pounding erupted from the bolted door. Felipe and the Barbosas banged on it and yelled for Cleto to open the door. Cleto licked his lips and glanced at the closed door, then hurried after the little Indian.
Bobby grasped the bamboo with both hands and didn’t move until Cleto lumbered within range, then he shoved the eleven-thousand year old blade, its edge sharper than a surgeon’s scalpel, upward into the pendulous stomach above his head.
The Clovis point entered below Cleto’s navel, and Bobby shoved hard, angling the thrust high, toward the back of the obese man’s head. Cleto’s forward motion stopped as suddenly as a dog hitting the end of a chain. He squalled in agony and dropped the whiskey bottle as Mata shoved again.
More pounding and thudding and commands to open the door came from Godoy and the Barbosas.
Cleto stood a second, then took one staggering step and fell on Bobby. The tremendous weight flattened Bobby on his back and the large hooks went in deeper as the fat man flailed in jerking death-throes before rolling off him. Cleto lay on his back, naked stomach to the sky. Six inches of bamboo protruded below his navel. Bobby feebly turned on his side to stop the agonizing pain of the hooks that had wormed great holes in his organs.
Anda ran to Bobby and touched his face with little bird hands as she sobbed. Bobby focused his glazing eyes and croaked, “Run, run.”
A shot rang out and half the doorknob disintegrated, but the rest still held. Anda wiped her eyes and looked around the room like a frightened deer, and as the Barbosas slammed their shoulders into the door, she raced to the wall. Anda stopped under a group of five hooks, but couldn’t reach them. Another shot made her jump, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the knob spinning in place. There was not much time. She backed along the wall for ten feet then ran forward, still crying as she jumped as high as she could.
One hand grasped the U portion of a hook and she swung forward and back, almost losing her grip as the handle scooted and squealed along the strap and banged into the other hooks. When her momentum reached the apex, Anda clambered with her feet against the wall until she could reach another hook with her free hand.