The Music Trilogy (49 page)

CHAPTER 34

Alejandro inched himself into the raft. His lungs were on fire from the salt water and he was sure his throat was being torn from his body. He gasped and coughed up more water as it came burning through his nose and mouth. He was dizzy from the shock to his body. Manuel was unconscious.

“Manuel,” he called, shaking him. How he ached! His arm was swollen and his muscles were aflame. He had torn the skin off his hand from holding onto the rope so tightly. But now they had to survive until they were rescued. But who would know? They had been on a secret mission. Had the pilots called in a mayday before going down? The life raft was supposed to carry emergency equipment. He found a couple of flares, a radio transmitter with a homing signal, a water jug, a small medical kit, and a sextant. Thank God, he thought. They had a chance of being found. He opened the medical kit, found what he needed and cleaned Manuel’s wound. The pilot was coming to.

“It’s okay, Manuel. I am just patching you up a bit until we are rescued.”

The sky was ominously dark, with threatening black clouds hovering. Waves threw the life raft around. Manuel was slouched on top of his life jacket. Alejandro had no life jacket. He had taken it off on the plane to get to the compartment where the raft was stored.

Once he finished bandaging the flyer, Alejandro set up the homing device. There was nothing more to do. They would just have to wait until they were found. Alejandro worried about the weather. They must be somewhere between the Keys and Cuba, he figured, so their chances were pretty good. It shouldn’t be too difficult to locate them. It was only a short distance, maybe a hundred square miles at the most. And they had the homing beacon. Surely by morning they would be found. He thought of Davina. She would be just finishing the concert and going to the party.

♫

CHAPTER 35

Upon arrival at Miami International Airport, Jacques and Monique were greeted by Sergeant Ernesto Martinez, who quickly ushered them through customs and security. They immediately asked for news of Davina.

“She is still critical,” Martinez said, counting his blessings that his own wife had managed to get out of the stadium unharmed.

“And Alejandro?” Jacques asked.

“Nothing. He left the concert immediately before the performance because his embassy called him back. I’ve been in touch with the Spanish ambassador, which is a feat in itself. He and his wife were slightly injured last night at the concert. It was very difficult trying to locate him. I have a feeling, call it policeman’s instinct, that he’s holding back, like he knows exactly where Alejandro is but he isn’t telling.”

“I see,” Jacques said, his mind already trying to figure out who he knew or what strings he could pull to find out more about Alejandro’s whereabouts. “Melina Walters, Davina’s mother, and her godmother Eleni Kerzi will be arriving tomorrow from Athens. Could you have someone meet them?”

“We’ll meet them.”

“What about Jean Conrad?” Jacques asked.

“She wasn’t badly hurt. She was released last night. I offered her a police escort but she refused. She was pretty upset. She saw her fiancée get blown up. Obviously, she’s got to have police protection. But we don’t know where she is right now.”

At the hospital, Martinez stopped in front of huge double doors. The man assigned to guard the room was not there. “Please wait here,” he told Jacques and Monique.

Martinez returned a few moments later. “She’s been moved to a private suite on another floor.”

“Does that mean she is better?” Monique quickly asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What are these lines of different colors on the floor?” Monique asked.

“It’s like a map,” Martinez said. “The colors are codes. Each color represents a specific area. One of them is probably for maternity, another maybe radiology, Intensive Care, and so on. This hospital is huge. I’d get lost without them.”

“I’m sure they are very helpful,” Monique said in English with a slight French accent. “The Americans will never cease to amaze me.”

They took the elevator to the designated floor. The officer on guard at the door of the suite saluted.

“I have good news, Sergeant,” the guard said. “Davina is in stable condition now, sir.”

“
Miss
Walters to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

This is probably the best watch he’s ever been on, Martinez thought. The other guys are probably jealous.

“What wonderful news!” Monique said and kissed the guard on the cheek. “Thank you. You are a blessing as well.” The young officer blushed.

“Just don’t let any of this go to your head, and keep up the good work,” Martinez said to the guard.

“Yes, sir, Sergeant.”

“I imagine he will never be the same or be able to live it down,” Martinez said. “The men will never let him. But he’s a good cop and that’s why I put him there.”

They were immediately struck by what they beheld when they entered the room. Davina’s face was black and blue. Some of her hair had been cut, her head was bandaged and the side of her face was swollen. Jacques and Monique went to her sides. Davina opened her eyes briefly to acknowledge their presence.

♫

CHAPTER 36

Manuel and Alejandro were both soaked to the bone. The spray from the waves filled the raft just enough so that they were constantly sitting or lying in two or three inches of water. Alejandro was exhausted from bailing water, all the while trying to hold the raft steady. He took the two blankets and wrung them out but they were still wet. He covered Manuel and himself as best he could, hoping that the morning would be clear and warm and that the rescue teams would find them. He rechecked the homing device. The red light was still blinking but he hadn’t been able to raise anyone on the radio. It must be because of the lightning in the distance, he surmised. He thought of Davina and the Mediterranean cruise. He thought of how happy his younger brother was to be settling down with a wonderful girl. He remembered how he and Rodrigo had once chased so many women.

Soon after dawn, the sun disappeared and it started to rain. They never had a chance to dry out. Alejandro worried about hypothermia. The rains did not let up for the next two days. Manuel was constantly nauseous, and when he wasn’t vomiting, he was dizzy from his head wound. Alejandro bailed endlessly. The swells that hit the dinghy were an average of fifteen feet high and they came in sets. He tried keeping the raft as even and balanced as possible. One wrong move and a wave could capsize them instantly. When the waves weren’t as strong, they ate one of the cans of food that had been provided with the other equipment on the raft. There was enough water and food for two more days.

By the morning of the third day, their food and water had run out, but thankfully the sun broke through the puffy white clouds. Now they had a chance, Alejandro thought, their last chance.

“Manuel, take your clothes off. We must dry out. I’ll try the radio again. I’m sure we will be found today.”

The two men ached all over. They were rubbed raw from the salt water and the chafing against the raft. They both developed sores and cuts. The tremendous heat from the sun was like a furnace.

Alejandro made a canopy of a blanket by attaching the ends to the life raft’s ropes and they huddled under it for the shade. They were miserably confined, sore and unbearably hot, but they managed to fall asleep. It was the first time since the crash that Alejandro was not bailing water or trying to keep the supplies and equipment from going overboard. But they woke up feeling worse than ever. Besides the sores that covered their bodies, they had cramps. Anything that touched them caused sharp pain. They were irritable, hungry and thirsty, but most of all they were worried. They had been adrift for four days and had no idea of their whereabouts.

When they saw a tanker in the distance, they waved, whistled and shouted, but it was too far away. Alejandro tried the radio again and again but he still couldn’t raise anyone.

“We are doomed,” Manuel said. “No one will ever find us.”

“Don’t give up! We can do it. We must.” But in the back of his mind Alejandro wondered how much longer Manuel would endure, or for that matter himself as well.

They held out one more day. That afternoon the sun was grueling with no breeze to cool them. “It’s no use,” Manuel said. “We have no more supplies and the damn radio never worked. Only God knows that we are here.”

Alejandro tried to calm him, but it was no use.

“I’m leaving!” Manuel screamed, standing up.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To paradise,” he said emphatically.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Manuel, stop it and sit down, please or we’ll capsize!”

Manuel lunged at Alejandro. The co-pilot was delirious. As the two men struggled, they both screamed with the pain of their raw skin sores. Suddenly the raft capsized and they both went overboard.

Alejandro liked the cool soothing sensation enveloping his body. He tried to reach Manuel in the distance but he disappeared into the deep. He swam after him but it was no use. Then something dark and clammy covered him. He froze in fear. He thought it was giant manta ray, but it turned out to be a blanket that had fallen over. He looked for the other man but he was gone. Alejandro’s chest was burning. He found the surface and gasped for air. Never before had he come so close to drowning so many times. He swam to the raft and turned it over. He lifted himself painstakingly back in, moaning at the open sores and the throbbing in his swollen arm. He wrung the blanket out as best he could. All the other supplies were lost overboard, and now there were tiny pinholes in the bottom of the life raft. Water slowly seeped in through the holes. All Alejandro now had was a wet blanket and the will to live.

He sat crouched in the raft for hours, bailing water. He winced in pain from the open sores on his body that were constantly being rubbed against the raft’s bottom, sides and seams. He continually thought of Davina. Did she know he was missing? Did she presume that he was busy with his assignment and didn’t have time to call her because of the nature of the mission? Or had the Embassy notified her? He had already concluded that no one received his radio messages or located the homing beacon. But he would survive. For Davina, for Rodrigo and for himself. He kept repeating this over and over.

By dusk he was starting to hallucinate, seeing ships and Coast Guard boats, but none of them ever stopped. The people on these ships waved to him and smiled. They all smiled the same way and the Captain always urged them on. “Come on boys, he’s alright, let’s go rescue somebody else. Maybe we’ll come back in the morning.” They would pass him by and never return as promised. Alejandro was in agony and it was endless. Bailing water had become an excruciating task. Every movement sent fire searing through his body.

Night fell once again. The sea was calm, the moon was out and the sky was clear and full of stars. How nice, he thought, now that the sky is clear, I don’t have the sextant. He covered himself as best he could, wincing in pain when the blanket rubbed against his open wounds, but he had to cover himself as the air was cold and the occasional spray from the waves hitting the raft made it bitter. He shivered most of the night and he wondered if he should just slip over and vanish like Manuel.

He dreamed he was in his comfortable bed in their villa on Miami Beach. Davina was asleep next to him, her head in the nook of his neck, her deep amber-golden hair draped over his shoulder. Her perfume deliriously teased his senses and he wanted to lick her entire naked body. He watched her breasts move to the rhythm of her breathing, felt her breath on his skin. How he longed to touch her but he did not want to wake her. They had just finished making love. He slept. Then he felt Davina nudge his hand. She was trying to wake him. He smiled and opened his eyes, expecting to see her lovely face, but instead he awoke from his dream and landed in a nightmare. Davina was not the one who had nudged him. It was a shark.
Hah, toro! Hah!

He was surrounded by bits of garbage. Could he be near land? Or was this from a passing ship in the night. Alejandro caught sight of an orange peel and a pineapple core. He eyed them hungrily but the shark was still close, swimming back and forth among the garbage.

Here in the corrida, one meets danger face to face. It’s fun!

If I don’t move, Alejandro thought, maybe the beast will go away. He hoped the big fish had already filled his belly because he did not want to be his next meal.

One must calculate the danger correctly. Or become the conquered.

The sea was calm and the food did not drift away, but he did not dare put his hands in the water to retrieve the bits of food. His eyes followed the shark.
Hah, toro! Hah!

Go away, he pleaded. I know you’ve eaten, otherwise you would have attacked me, so now leave …
please
!

But then the shark turned and headed straight for the life raft.

In this corrida, the odds are not in the favor of the man.

Alejandro carefully stood up, not knowing what else to do.
Hah, toro! Hah!
What could he do if the shark
attacked?

The shark circled. Alejandro did not turn around to keep the creature in his sights for fear of overturning the raft.

The shark swam out but turned again, heading for Alejandro. It turned away before touching the raft.

A change of heart.

Alejandro crossed himself. Thank you, Mister Shark, you have been very kind today. Thank you for not eating me for breakfast.

Alejandro saluted.
Buena Suerte, good luck
.

He slowly sat back down. The shark was gone. Maybe. Now he could eat. He paddled over to the food and picked up everything he could - a pineapple core, an orange peel, a lettuce leaf and a half rotten tomato. To his further joy, he found an empty beer bottle. Now he hoped for rain. He was badly dehydrated.

He decided on the tomato as a first course. It took incredible discipline not to eat everything at once. Eat slowly, eat slowly, take your time, he told himself, trying to control his desire to devour the entire tomato in one gulp.

His sores had become deep wounds, and layers of skin were beginning to peel off. Until the shark’s visit, he lowered himself into the water periodically to cool the rawness and numb the pain a little. More than once, he thought of staying in and not getting back into the raft. Crawling back into the raft was agonizing. Alejandro screamed in pain as more pieces of skin peeled off of his hands, legs and buttocks. He would try to cover himself with the blanket, but this only made it worse. The blanket felt like sandpaper. His body could no longer tolerate anything touching it. After the shark’s visit, Alejandro decided he would forgo his ritual of lowering himself into the water. Besides, he no longer knew which was worse: the pain of the fire that could be cooled briefly by the water or the pain of getting back inside the raft.

That night it rained. He made a funnel from the piece of lettuce and held it over the beer bottle. He tried not to think of the rain that pierced his skin, like needles penetrating his body. After what seemed to Alejandro like hours of torture, the bottle filled with water and he ate half of the lettuce leaf. This was today’s nourishment. Tomorrow he would eat the other half of the lettuce leaf with one swallow of water. He would try his utmost not to pass those marks. Then the next day would be the orange peel and the day after, the pineapple core. If he was lucky, he might try to catch a fish, but he doubted that his hands would follow his commands. They hurt too much. The water in the bottle would last four days– two swallows per, he calculated. After that, survival would be impossible. He would be dead. But I at least tried, he thought, urging himself on with the pride and dignity of the Spanish hidalgo before passing out.

♫