Part 26 (1/2)

Ra-a-a-a-ka. Ra-a-a-a-ka. Short bursts, as before, with the 7.62 sh.e.l.ls tinkling as they hit the floor, the smoke swirling in the darkness making Teresa's throat itch; blasts from Pote's AK-47, blasts from the SIG-Sauer she holds with both hands- Short bursts, as before, with the 7.62 sh.e.l.ls tinkling as they hit the floor, the smoke swirling in the darkness making Teresa's throat itch; blasts from Pote's AK-47, blasts from the SIG-Sauer she holds with both hands-boom, boom, boom, her mouth open so the noise doesn't burst her eardrums-blasts shooting toward the blasts that come from the stairs; the buzz of the bullets pa.s.sing close by- her mouth open so the noise doesn't burst her eardrums-blasts shooting toward the blasts that come from the stairs; the buzz of the bullets pa.s.sing close by-ziannng, ziannng- and dull, sinister chuffs against the plaster of the walls and the wood of the doors; the clink and crash of breaking gla.s.s when the windows on the other side of the hall are hit. The carriage of her pistol locks to the rear, and dull, sinister chuffs against the plaster of the walls and the wood of the doors; the clink and crash of breaking gla.s.s when the windows on the other side of the hall are hit. The carriage of her pistol locks to the rear, click, click, click, click, with no more rounds to shoot, and Teresa is confused for a second, until she realizes what's happened. with no more rounds to shoot, and Teresa is confused for a second, until she realizes what's happened.

She pushes the b.u.t.ton to release the empty clip and clicks in another, the one that was in the front pocket of her jeans, and when she frees the carriage it chambers another round. She aims to shoot but waits, because Pote has half his body in the hall and another grenade is rolling toward the stairs, and this time the blast is huge in the darkness, thunderous, truly deafening- FMMMM. Cabrones! FMMMM. Cabrones! When Pote stands up and runs hunched over down to the hole, the AK-47 ready, Teresa stands up too and runs beside him, and they arrive at the destroyed railing at the same time. When they peer over, ready to wipe out anybody that might still be standing, the muzzle flashes from their guns reveal at least two bodies lying in the rubble of the stairway. When Pote stands up and runs hunched over down to the hole, the AK-47 ready, Teresa stands up too and runs beside him, and they arrive at the destroyed railing at the same time. When they peer over, ready to wipe out anybody that might still be standing, the muzzle flashes from their guns reveal at least two bodies lying in the rubble of the stairway.

Chingale. Her lungs hurt from the gunpowder and smoke. She m.u.f.fles her coughing the best she can. She doesn't know how much time has pa.s.sed. She is very thirsty. She is not afraid. Her lungs hurt from the gunpowder and smoke. She m.u.f.fles her coughing the best she can. She doesn't know how much time has pa.s.sed. She is very thirsty. She is not afraid.

How much ammo, patrona7” patrona7” ”Not much.” ”Here you go.” ”Not much.” ”Here you go.”

In the darkness, she catches two of the full clips Pote Galvez tosses to her, but misses the third. She gropes along the floor for it, then sticks it in one of her back pockets.

”Isn't anybody going to help us, mi dona7.” mi dona7.”

”Get real.”

”The guachos guachos are outside.... The colonel seemed like a decent man.” ”His jurisdiction ends at the wall. We're going to have to make it out there.” are outside.... The colonel seemed like a decent man.” ”His jurisdiction ends at the wall. We're going to have to make it out there.”

”No way. Too far.” ”Yeah. Too far.”

Creaking and footsteps. She grips the pistol and aims into the shadows, clenching her teeth. Maybe this is it, she thinks. But n.o.body comes up. Chale. Chale. False alarm. False alarm.

Suddenly they're there, and she hasn't heard them come up. This time the grenade rolling along the floor is aimed at the two of them, and Pote Galvez has just enough time to see it. Teresa rolls inside, covering her head with her hands, and the explosion lights up the door and hallway like day. Deafened, she takes a few seconds to register that the distant murmur is the sound of the furious bursts of gunfire that Pote Galvez is getting off. I ought to do something, too, she thinks. She gets up, staggering from the shock of the blast, grips the pistol, walks on her knees to the door, puts one hand on the frame for support, stands, steps outside, and starts firing blindly-boom, boom, boom-blasts of gunfire from both sides, the noise growing louder and louder, closer and closer, and all at once she sees black shadows rus.h.i.+ng toward her, flashes of orange and blue, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, and bullets zing and bullets zing past, ziannnng, ziannnng, and there are chuffs on the walls everywhere, even behind her, to one side, under her left arm, and Pote Galvez'AK-47 joins in- and there are chuffs on the walls everywhere, even behind her, to one side, under her left arm, and Pote Galvez'AK-47 joins in-ra-a-a-a-ka, ra-a-a-a-a-ka-this time not short bursts but long, endless ones. Cabrones! Cabrones! she hears him scream, she hears him scream, cabrones! cabrones! and she realizes that something is going wrong, maybe he's been hit, or maybe she has, maybe she herself is dying right now and doesn't know it. But her right hand keeps squeezing the trigger, and she realizes that something is going wrong, maybe he's been hit, or maybe she has, maybe she herself is dying right now and doesn't know it. But her right hand keeps squeezing the trigger, boom, boom, boom, boom, and she thinks, and she thinks, If I'm shooting I must be alive. If I'm shooting I must be alive. I shoot, therefore I am. I shoot, therefore I am.

Her back against the wall, Teresa rams her last clip into the SIG-Sauer. She has checked herself all over and is amazed not to find a scratch. The sound of rain outside, in the garden. From time to time she hears Pote Galvez groaning through his teeth.

Are you wounded, Pinto?”

. ”I f.u.c.ked up real bad, patrona patrona. I took some lead.”

”Does it hurt?”

”Hurts like h.e.l.l. Why would I tell you no if the answer's yes?”

Pinto.” ”Si, senora.” ”Si, senora.”

”Staying here won't cut it. I don't want them to hunt us down when we're out of ammunition, like rabbits.” ”Say the word.”

The porch, she decides. There's an overhanging roof with shrubbery underneath, at the other end of the hall. The window above it is no problem, because by now there won't be a pane of gla.s.s left. If they can make it there, they can jump down and then cut their way through, or try to, and make it to the entrance gate or the wall beside the street. The rain can save their lives as well as it can slow them down. And the soldiers can fire inside, too, she thinks, although that's another risk. There are reporters outside, and people watching. Not as easy as at home. And don Epifanio Vargas can buy a lot of people, although no one can buy everybody.

Can you move, Pinto?” ”Yes, patrona. patrona. I can.” ”The idea is the hall window, and then jump.” ”The idea is whatever you say.” I can.” ”The idea is the hall window, and then jump.” ”The idea is whatever you say.”

This has happened before, Teresa thinks. Something similar, and Pote Galvez was there that time too. ”Pinto.” ”Sefwra.” ”Sefwra.”

”How many grenades are left?” ”One.”

”Well, go for it.”

The grenade is still rolling when they take off running down the hall, and the blast goes off just as they reach the window. Hearing the stutter of Pote's AK-47 behind her, Teresa puts one leg and then the other through the window, being careful not to cut herself on the splinters of gla.s.s, but when she puts her left hand down for support, she cuts herself. She feels the thick warm liquid run down the palm of her hand as she swings herself out, and the rain hitting her face. The tiles of the overhang creak under her feet. She sticks the pistol into her waistband before she drops, and she slides along the wet surface, braking at the downspout. Then, after hanging her feet over the edge, she kicks off and drops.

She splashes through the mud, the pistol once more in her hand. Pote Galvez lands beside her. A thump. A groan of pain. ”Run, Pinto. Toward the wall.”

There's no time. From the house, the cone of light from a flashlight is seeking them out, and the shooting starts again. This time the slugs make a dull sucking sound when they hit mud, a splash when they hit water. Teresa lifts the SIG-Sauer. I hope all this s.h.i.+t doesn't jam it, she thinks. She shoots single rounds, carefully, not losing her head, in an arc, and then throws herself facedown in the mud. Then she realizes that Pote Galvez is not firing. She turns to look at him, and in the distant light from the street sees him sprawled against a porch column.

”I'm sorry, patrona,” patrona,” she hears him whisper. ”... This time they f.u.c.ked me good.” she hears him whisper. ”... This time they f.u.c.ked me good.”

”Where?”

”In the gut... I don't know whether it's blood or rain, but there's a lot of it, whatever it is.”

Teresa bites her muddy lower lip. She looks at the lights on the other side of the gate, the streetlamps that silhouette the palms and mango trees. It will be tough, she sees, to do it herself.

”Your gun?”

”Right there ... between us. I put in a double clip, full, but it slipped out of my hands when I got shot.”

Teresa lifts her head to see. The AK-47 is on the porch steps. A burst of gunfire from the house forces her to duck.

”I can't reach it.”

”Well, I'm truly sorry.”

She looks toward the street. There is a crowd of people on the other side of the gate. Police sirens are wailing and a voice is yelling through a megaphone, but she can't tell what it's saying. In the trees, to the left, she hears splas.h.i.+ng. Footsteps. Maybe a shadow. Somebody trying to get around on the other side of them. I hope those cabrones cabrones don't have night-vision goggles, she thinks. don't have night-vision goggles, she thinks.