FOURTEEN
Dusk had well and truly taken hold of the day when the taxi dropped Father Ross off at the outskirts of the village of Santuario, Mexico. Where the German Hauser had last thought to have been living. But it had done little to tame the obsessive Mexican heat. The young priest arched his aching back and would have tried to slap some life back into his numb buttocks were he not out in public.
The majority of the journey had been pleasant enough as they had left Mexico City and driven on down the highway. It was a long trip and had cost upwards of five hundred dollars U.S but as the church were paying, neither Ross nor his extremely chatty driver Carlos worried too much as the meter continued to climb, ticking off the miles and Pesos as they travelled.
It had been the last hour or so, when they had turned off the main highway and continued on increasingly lesser maintained roads that the journey had really started to take its toll on both passenger and driver alike.
Carlos’ stories had dried up and his already lined face had taken on a permanent look of concern as the taxi hit pothole after pothole. Until Ross had become so concerned that the man might give up all together and ditch him in the middle of nowhere to save his car shaking apart altogether, that he had felt obliged, both out of genuine concern and guilt at what the trip was doing to Carlos’ only form of livelihood, to offer the driver an extra hundred dollars U.S for his trouble.
As Carlos gladly sped off back to civilisation leaving him there, Ross picked up his suitcase in one hand and pulled the strap of his laptop carrying case over his shoulder then set off. He was immediately was hit by two things in quick succession. One, the heat. The taxi had been thankfully air conditioned but now that he was out in the dry Mexican evening air, he felt his shirt sticking to his back as sweat broke out all over his body after just a few steps towards the large whitewashed arch way that seemed to be the only way in through the walled village exterior.
Then two, the smell of wood smoke mixed with the undeniable aroma of barbeque. He could hear raised voices someway off as he made his way into the seemingly deserted outskirts of the village.
Suddenly a volley of fireworks went off over head painting the darkening sky a myriad of colours followed by a roar of approval from an unseen small but vocal crowd still some way off. It was as if the village were heralding his arrival, but Ross quickly dismissed the notion. Going on what Mendez had said about Hauser, his visit would not be welcomed, even if the village had known he was coming.
And with his Ross realised he didn’t have the first idea what he was going to say to the German in way of introduction. The man had no love for the Catholic church, Mendez had made that much clear.
Ross suddenly felt a little self-conscious of his dog collar and even thought of taking it off for a brief moment, then thought better of it. No, the old man would have to take Ross as he found him. All he needed to do was show him the episode of demon time he had stored on his lap top and hope that was evidence enough for the man to help him. If indeed he could.
Ross trudged on towards the sound of the gathering and could now hear music drifting through the buildings and the glow of what must be powerful lights in the near night sky above the roof tops.
Up ahead through a narrow alley which snaked its way between two rows of thin two story houses, a flash of movement caught his eye. A child darted out from behind a building and ran down the alley towards where Ross was, furtively glancing behind him as he went.
The child, a boy of perhaps ten let out a squeal as four other children, three girls and a boy appeared and gave chase.
As they came closer, Ross could see the four pursuers were all wearing what looked like brightly coloured homemade Halloween masks and the priest wondered at first if it was perhaps a Mexican Day of the Dead celebration. But he seemed to remember that event was much later in the year, close to Halloween in the west if memory served.
Either way, the children were so lost in their game that if they weren’t carful they would run right into him. Ross was about to move to one side to let them pass when the lead boy chanced a look up to see where he was going and saw the priest standing what was now perhaps twenty or so feet away.
The boy, who had been laughing uproariously suddenly skidded to a hold, kicking up a cloud of dust as he did so. Seeing this, the others stopped also, some way back, panting audibly through their masks.
Ross held up his hand in greeting but much to his astonishment the boy let out a yelp of genuine fear and staggered back. “Sorry,” Ross said cursing his lack of Spanish. “It’s alright my name’s...” The words caught in his throat, even in the dimly lit alley Ross could see the boy was terrified. He was staring wide eyed at of all things his dog collar.
Ross’ hand instinctively went up his neck. “It’s okay,” he said again but this did nothing to ease the boy’s palpable fear.
Another volley of fireworks exploded over head, much closer this time and this seemed to snap the boy out of his stupor. Then all five turned and ran back up the alley way like they had the Devil Himself on their tails and out of sight leaving Ross alone once more.
Somewhat haunted by that look of terror in the boy’s eye, Ross set off again following the sound of the fiesta which took him deeper into the village and as he walked on, the narrow alleyways with their overbearing buildings on either side gradually gave way to a more open feel to the architecture.
Up ahead he could see rows of multi-coloured lights strung from building to building. And with them the first real sign of life over the age of ten in the village.
He passed a couple bathed in vivid reds and blues who were kissing in a doorway. Two old men were staggering down the street their arms interlocked for mutual support, each with a bottle of wine grasped in their free hand. Further on he had to politely push his way through a group of fifteen or more revellers several of whom Ross noticed eyeing him up somewhat suspiciously.
Again it seemed to be his dog collar that drew the most attention. One moment they were lost in the music which was drifting from close by, or laughing in some shared joke amongst them, only to stop until he had passed on by.
“Sorry, sorry,” he found himself saying. For his passing by or his attire he wasn’t entirely sure. Ross remembered Mendez had told him Hauser had little love for the church, but had the German infected the whole village with his distain?
Mexico, he knew well was a mostly catholic country but not here. He was beginning to think that he might actually be wise to take off his collar. And couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t distain he was encountering this was of all things, fear.