Constant Fear

CHAPTER 34

David and Rafa squared off onstage like martial arts combatants gearing up for battle. Their heads were bowed, eyes to the floor. Fausto stood behind the pair with one hand perched on each boy’s trembling shoulder. He looked supremely satisfied.

“So,” Fausto said, eyeing Rafa, “your friend here has the key, you say?”

David lifted his head and pulled his long hair back from his face to fix Rafa with a furious stare.

“He has it,” Rafa said. “I know it’s him.”

“I do not,” David said through gritted teeth. “How do I know you didn’t take it?”

Rafa bellowed, “Because I didn’t!”

David craned his neck to look at Solomon, who cowered on the floor, shaking like the last leaf of autumn. “I just want to go home,” Solomon said. “I just want to go home.”

Without warning, Rafa leaned forward and shoved David hard in the chest. David tried to hold his ground, but staggered a few steps back.

“Don’t be a coward,” Rafa said, panting out the words. His sweat-drenched face crinkled with a look of utter contempt. “They’re going to kill us if you don’t give it to them. So give it up now.”

“I told you, I don’t have it!” David screamed back. He lunged forward and gave Rafa an equally hard shove.

The attack took Rafa by surprise, and he lurched backward before regaining his footing. David and Rafa went at each other simultaneously, clinched, and began to wrestle with neither gaining much advantage over the other. They gripped each other’s shirts as they spun around haplessly.

Fausto could not have looked more pleased. He pulled the machete out of the stage floor and raised the blade level with his shoulders as he lifted his arms. For a moment, he looked like a crazed conductor about to guide a symphony with a brutish, oversized wand. His mouth parted into a twisted grin and the metal inside caught the stage lights.

“Boys, boys,” Fausto said, lowering his weapon. “I say you fix this problem like men.”

Rafa ignored Fausto. His determination to get David’s confession had become its own presence in the room. “You’re a liar, David. A big, fat liar!”

“He’s not fat, really,” Fausto said in a semi-serious tone while he appraised David, his fingers rubbing against his chin. “But I do get your point.”

The boys were focused exclusively on each other. David shouted back, “You know what I think? I think you have it!”

Rafa’s face contorted with rage as he lunged at David, arms outstretched. David stepped back, but Rafa continued his advance. He fired punch after punch, all of them coming fast and furious. David tried to fend off the blows as best he could by spinning his arms like a windmill, but he had no adequate defense. David dropped to his knees and used his arms to shield his head from Rafa’s unrelenting blows.

Fausto crouched down to David’s level. “Why don’t you fight for yourself?” he screamed into David’s face, like a boxer’s trainer. “You let him beat you like this? Like a dog? It makes me think he’s right. You are guilty. Hiding something. Maybe I torture you until you talk. Maybe I focus my steel on you.”

“Tell him!” Rafa screamed. “Give him the key! Give it to him!”

David picked up his head just in time to see more fists coming his way. He reached up at exactly the right moment and took hold of Rafa’s right wrist. Without letting go, David leapt to his feet, clenched Rafa in a tight embrace, and hurled his friend hard to the stage floor. David went down to the ground, his hair exploding around him, and the wrestling continued.

The two rolled around on the stage floor exchanging punches, much to the delight and cheers of Fausto’s men, who had circled the entwined pair like a group watching a schoolyard brawl.

Rafa went for David’s eyes with a clawed hand. David blocked the strike with his forearm, but Rafa managed to grab hold of a clump of David’s thick hair and gave it a hard yank. David howled in pain as he fought to raise his head high enough to sink his teeth into the exposed flesh of Rafa’s delicate wrist. It was a vicious bite, like that of an angry dog.

Now it was Rafa’s turn to cry out, and he let go of David’s hair as he ripped his hand away. Rafa favored his wounded left hand as he scrambled back to his feet. David clawed his way back to his feet and cleared Rafa’s blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The two squared off again.

Solomon slid over to the far corner of the stage, away from the commotion, and huddled into a fetal position, traumatized. Pixie didn’t budge. He just sat in his chair and watched the chaos unfold as if it were a feature film.

Fausto waved to the guard at the door, the one Andy called Whippet, to join everybody onstage. In his hand, Fausto clutched a stack of colorful bills and he held them up over his head and shouted something in Spanish. The rest of the men took the cue and went looking for bills in their pockets. Soon they were shouting indecipherable commands and money began to exchange hands.

“Cuarenta por El Flaco,” Una Mano said, pointing to Rafa. Fausto ripped the bills from Una Mano’s hand.

David stepped forward and unleashed a vicious punch to Rafa’s gut. The blow landed hard enough to double Rafa over. This was followed by a rapid exchange of money. The men were laughing and clapping; and though they spoke only Spanish, it was obvious they were betting on the outcome.

Hilary saw Whippet leave his post by the door to join his comrades onstage. Andy was slipping in and out of consciousness, sweaty, mumbling, glassy-eyed. Hilary knew he was dying.

Everyone was so focused on David and Rafa’s battle that nobody noticed Hilary leave her seat and sneak over to the unguarded auditorium door. She glanced back at Andy. Even from a distance, she could see his lips moving, and it was easy to imagine him saying, “Harkness, Harkness, Harkness,” over and over again.

Hilary engaged the push bar and cringed at the sound it made. It was probably just a soft click, and most likely drowned out by the shouting men, but to Hilary it rang out like a gunshot. She froze in place and looked to the stage. All attention was on the boys.

Hilary opened the door enough to let in a sliver of light, enough for her to slip out. She stepped into the empty hallway directly outside the auditorium and kept pressure on the door to make sure it closed as silently as possible.

To her left, Hilary saw the building’s exit. Gray light filtered in through two tall picture windows on either side of the front door. Beyond those windows was a wide expanse of green and brown lawn-The Quad. She could run for it. By the time they noticed she was gone, it would be too late. She would lose them in the woods. She could get help. But then how long would it take to get someone back inside? Get Andy his medicine? Andy would never last that long. Never. Or worse, maybe there would be dire consequences because of her escape, and Fausto would slaughter her friends in retribution. What kind of survival would that be? Instead of being their savior, she would contribute to their execution. Her mind flashed on the image of Fausto bludgeoning El Gallo to death all because someone might have alerted the police. What would he do if the police tried to get inside the school for real?

Hilary took one more wistful look outside. They will negotiate for our release, she thought as a single tear slid out from her eye and snaked down her face. She thought of her mother and father. Her sisters. The life she might never get a chance to live. Her stomach cramped from the weight of her decision.

Inside, the shouts of the men grew louder. It was the sound of laughter and joy, pure revelry. Hilary turned from the door and sprinted down the hall headed for the stairs. She had taken history with Mr. Langford last year.

She knew which basement classroom had a Harkness table.