Hurricane Alley comes too soon for Daniel. Carved bluffs, white beaches, at first sight Islas Tres Marias reflects jagged cliffs, sparkling sand, a white church and a cluster of stucco buildings. In the background, beyond the church, a massive security perimeter protects the entrance to the town.
Cutting the engine, the boat drifts to the dock. A crew member climbs the ladder and catches bows and stern line securing the craft to the landing. Daniel stands, frozen. Tears run down his face. A handful of guards wait forming a straight line on the wooden pier.
In the center of the group a murky haze encircles a short man, standing legs wide and arms akimbo. Mirrored sunglasses reflect the light. His assault rifle casually loops over his shoulder. Christopher’s eyes widen and fix on a coiled circle… a bullwhip? What? Daniel meant he’d be punished with this bullwhip? It will rip him apart, leave scars, permanent scars.
The charged moment fills Christopher’s vision with chaotic shards of light. He sees sweat break out across Daniel’s brow. Daniel trembles. The whip unfolds. Unanimated it lays heavy across the smooth boards of the wooden dock. Collectively the guards take an uneasy step backwards.
Watching the central man Christopher sees superimposed the thick bones, large feet, muscular neck and heavily muscled shoulders of the Spanish Fighting Bull. The gloom deepens around him. Muddled dusky streaks of aggression fly at Daniel. The flying bolts a precursor to the whip?
Christopher wonders, are these men accountable? A prison isolated, in the middle of, what’s it called? Hurricane Alley?
The air transforms dense and coarse with domination. Thick strands of muddy red encircle the man. He licks his lips, savoring the impending violence. The bull leans forward, Bien venido a casa, Daniel,” he bellows. “Aqui ahora.”
Daniel pales beneath skin streaked red with sunburn. Circles blacken his eyes. Muscles bunched with dread, slowly he climbs the ladder. Christopher sees agile raccoon paws merging, hand over hand. “Please, El Jefe!” begs Daniel.
El Jefe’s posture thickens. Like the bull, his bony head lowers. The whip arches. Meeting Daniel’s chest, leather has become a blade. Cutting deep through muscle and skin Daniel’s shirt falls away. Another crack and boom and the whip encircles Daniel’s naked waist. Micro-bits of flesh and blood fly thru the air. Daniel buckles, falling to his knees. Christopher hears his muffled prayer, “Dios mio! Dios mio…”
Now laughing guards surround Daniel. The Spanish Bull grabs Daniel by the arm dragging him to a waiting jeep. “I have a special place in town for you serving the guards.” The whip winds around Daniel’s waist cutting, tearing muscle and skin while he stumbles forward.
Frozen with horror Christopher waits.
In the void of Daniel’s exit one man stands on the dock. He motions for Christopher to climb the ladder. Hand over hand, as Daniel climbed before him, Christopher trembles.
The dock, a whitewashed church, and hard dirt streets are juxtaposed against a brilliant sky. The church, freshly painted white stands outside the gates to the town. Tunneling his examination deeper Christopher sees a glimpse of shops and buildings inside the walled community. Now he understands what Daniel meant when he said the island had a town. Shifting for another angle he sees homes. He moves closer for a better view. Shops and homes. So much to see. His view blocked by the high security perimeter fencing.
“Marcos! Follow me. I’m Checo, maintenance and repair. You work for me.” Checo shakes his head grimacing. “Welcome to La Luna. You’ve arrived at the home of the dangerous and those of us who wish we were dangerous.” He barks a bitter laugh.
Christopher grabs Checo’s arm. “Will Daniel be alright? What will happen to him?”
Ignoring the question Checo continues walking and Christopher follows. Wild parrots soar thru the tree canopy. Christopher stumbles as they trudge up a dirt path. His ribs protest the movement. Sharp pains force him to take shallow breaths.
A well-muscled man Checo’s stride is full of confidence and swag. Tall for his Latin ancestry, even his features are European. Beside Checo standing in his shadow Christopher makes out a black Jaguar. Sleek with black-spots he prowls restlessly next to Checo.
“You’ll work for me in maintenance. My men know nothing of mechanics.” He grins, “after all they are thieves, drug dealers. Are you skilled with machines?”
Years of working side by side with his Dad on household repairs flashes through Christopher in condensed thumbnail sized images. Memories layered throughout the years hit him individually and simultaneously. Christopher staggers. Edged in black the visions of their heads together under the hood of his Chevy make him want to weep. Visitations from his Mom supplying them with cookies and drinks, the memories overpower him. His body starts to shake, violent tremors.
Checo notices Christopher’s wobbling and pulls him beneath the shade of a banana tree. Steadying Christopher’s elbow he lowers him to sitting. He picks a banana handing it to Christopher. “Eat. Banana trees were planted by pirates. We can thank them for the banana, mango and papaya on the island.”
Checo drops to sitting, Indian style, next to Christopher.
Feeling like an invalid Christopher slowly unpeels the banana. He asks “How did you come to Islas Tres Marias?”
Out of the corner of Christopher’s eye is a flash. Green and blue, a blur in a steep dive hurls at them screeching a high pitched warning.
Without thinking Christopher throws himself onto Checo.
“Watch out. “Arghhh,” he screams as his ribs make their own screeching protest. The banana flies out of his hand.
When they are not hit by the incoming projectile Christopher lifts his head. A parrot watches him. Hovering in the air by Checo’s bicep, she clutches Christopher’s banana in her talons.
Slowly, agonizingly Christopher pushes himself off Checo’s lap. Ribs grating, Christopher grinds his teeth to keep from groaning.
The parrot drops the banana, landing on Checo’s shoulder. Catching the banana mid-air Checo watches Christopher. Taking back the banana Christopher asks, “Did I over-react?”
The parrot rolls her beak under Checo’s chin. He grips her curved beak pinching and tugging his greeting. Her yellow head, cocked sideways, gazes at Christopher. He returns her stare with wonderment. Offering her a piece of banana, he asks, “Have you named her?”
Checo rubs the bird below her formidable beak, scratching the soft downy feathers of her neck. “I call her Ave Bonita, Sweet Bird.”
Christopher finishes the banana feeling steadier. He hesitates, than asks again, “How did you end up here? I mean on the island, in prison?”
Checo’s growls, “Do not ask inmates how we ended up on Islas Tres Marias! Comprende?”
Christopher drops his head embarrassed.
The silence stretches.
Checo sighs. “I was a professional Futbol player.” Another pause while he scratches Ave Bonita’s chest. She coos softly. Checo’s voice is rough with emotion when he continues. “I was injured… drunk… jewelry store………… motorcycle cop… accident… Islas Tres Marias.” Checo blows out air; frustrated, embarrassed and tired.
Christopher doesn’t know what to say. He mumbles, “Thanks Cheeco.”
With a grunt Checo stands. In a flash of green Ave Bonita flies to a tree branch. Offering him a hand, Checo pulls Christopher to standing. Christopher grinds his teeth and steadies himself.
Leaning in Checo gives Christopher a penetrating glare. “Listen gringo. My name is ChecKO, not Cheeeco. Got it? ChecKO.”
Christopher nods, “Got it.”
Muttering Checo marches off. Christopher hurries to catch up. The trail coils deeper into the forest. Sunlight slants through trees and green leaves. The forest is filtered in golden light and lush greenery. The air is alive with golden beams and each leaf etched in a diffuse glow is another wonder. A day filled with wonders and horrors.
Shaking his head Christopher continues down the dirt path ending in… shacks. The canvas tents surrounded by jungle are nothing like the thick adobe walls of the church or the town surrounded by security fencing. He follows Checo inside. The screen door slams behind him.