Chapter 34

Through deep layers of foliage in the Amazon jungle, stilled yellow eyes peered, searching for their victim. The cat moved silently through the underbrush, stalking its terrified prey, its orange and black stripes fluttering like a living illusion. It was fearsome: hundreds of pounds of poised lean muscle, a predator undaunted by even the most dangerous prey. And it was stalking the most dangerous prey. Sophia could feel she was being watched, hunted, pursued like a helpless dumb animal. The fear she felt primal, instinctive. She feared for the safety of her own life, but more pressingly, she felt an absolute compulsion to protect the child swaddled in a cloth in her arms. She ran through the jungle, trampling plants indiscriminately. They tore at her legs and her face, but she continued to run without reprieve, cradling the baby like a rugby player as she barreled through the terrain. The desire, the insatiable need to save the child at all costs was overwhelming. She cared not for her own safety, only for protecting the thing she coddled in her arms, held close to her electrified heart. The tiger picked up its pace, trotting lightly behind Sophia, steadily gaining on her. It could sense the fear that coursed through her. It could smell her terror like a pheromone released into the air. Its instincts told it that the reward was near. It was running now, not caring to hide its presence. Gone was its silent stalking; the tiger leaped in for the kill. She opened up the swaddled cloth. Inside was a tiger cub.

Sophia woke around the three O’clock hour and laid in bed for nearly an hour and a half before she gingerly stepped out of bed, walked outside, and breathed in the cool air of a late October night. This was her favorite time of year, when the weather was cooling down. The days were temperate, and the nights were cold. That night was unseasonably warm, and the cloudless sky gaped open, allowing the light of the moon and the stars to beam down from the heavens like a pinholed blanket.

The power and meaning behind dreams was always something Sophia had held to be true. She wondered what it could have meant. It had been some considerable time since she had one this strong.

Even now, fully awake, wandering aimlessly behind the church, it was clear in her mind, burned into her memory. Usually upon waking, even the most strong and profound dreams would dissolve in the waters of her mind. There was a wooden chair she often sat and contemplated life. Lately, there had been much contemplating to be done. She had seen her adopted children grow into adults before her very eyes, and the prospect of losing their innocence and childlike wonder to the trials of adulthood terrified her. She wasn’t ready to let go of Jesus and Andrea when they had gone north to Baja Leai. To her, that would be tantamount to surrendering them to the cruel forces that ran the world. Likewise, she wasn’t ready for Miriam to become pregnant before even her seventeenth birthday. Christian, for as intelligent and capable he was, could not be a father in her eyes. Maybe, she thought, he will never be ready in her own eyes. They were prejudiced with memories of them as children, uncorrupted by the awful ways of the world and the crushing knowledge of adulthood.

Enrique had followed in Osito’s steps and enlisted in the Mexican army. Sophia worried about him more than anybody else. Some nights, when all was quiet and she was totally alone, she would pray to a god she didn’t know whether she believed in or not. She would pray for safety and blessings for all of her like-children, but mostly for Enrique. They were all she had, and with the orphanage taken away, the culmination of her entire life’s work as the wellbeing of children and young adults she no longer possessed the means to care for. It deeply troubled her. It was not uncommon that she would spend nights like this awake, pondering the infinite possibilities of life and the reasons that had drawn her down this path in particular. How many more surprises had the fates in store for her? It was impossible to say.

Osito would be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time. This was commonplace for him before his daughters were born and he began working at the orphanage full time, but now it worried Sophia, too. He was not the young man he once was, and the road can add years on to one’s age. Carmen cared for his two young daughters while his wife worked. She hoped that Osito could make good on his promise to find the money to rebuild Sophia’s orphanage. It was all that she had worked for her whole life.

Rico had been taken in by Martha, an elderly grandmother of nine. Martha was a kind woman and an experienced mother. Sophia was thankful that all of her children had been so fortunate. She had talked to Layla on the phone only weeks prior, and she had told her that Jesus and Andrea were still living with her going to Baja Leai University. They were soon to complete their first year at the prestigious school. This was, of course, not true, but Layla was wise enough to know that the truth would have needlessly worried an old woman. Layla knew that they were in New York, or at least they had been, that much Winston had told her. She knew not why they had left so suddenly or why it had coincided with an exchange of goods in her possession for a considerable sum of money, but as Winston had once taught Jesus, she knew that it was better sometimes to not ask questions. Her philosophy was to not ask why, but simply accept what is. She had a huge, beautiful garden and a sweet friend of a dog that watched over it. She had her music to dance to, even if she was often too busy to find the time or energy to do so. She was not lonely, she had her rotating clients. Justin had left long ago to go up North. Alfred had moved to an apartment with two other students. She did not mourn their losses; she celebrated the arrival of new life into her household. It was the ever-turning circle of life.

Jorge Lopez was surprised to see that two excellent students had stopped attending classes altogether. He had considered reaching out to Sophia, Osito, Layla, or the police, but a letter had arrived return addressed from University of Chicago, detailing how they had been accepted into a special alumni-based work and study abroad program. This, of course, was fabricated by O’Neil, but served the same purpose of Layla’s white lie. It put his mind at ease. Around the same time, a beautiful black sedan had been anonymously donated to the school. Sometimes, he mused, the world has a funny way of turning negatives into positives.

In Lower Manhattan, John Letters and Paul Halman sat in the back office of The Rooster before opening, in the early afternoon of a Tuesday. They drank coffee slowly, savoring the taste of the creamy French pressed blend.

“So there’s this family, right?” Said John. “They all hate each other. The mother hates the father because he spends all his time watching football. The father hates the mother because she’s getting fat and lazy and never works, and the son hates both of them because he’s thirteen and that’s just how the world works. His dad grounded him for a week or something or other. It’s not important.”

“Anyway, suddenly, a magic genie pops up out of nowhere while they’re having dinner.”

“Is there a point to this story?” Said Paul coldly.

“It’s a joke, okay?” John said, “Just relax,” He cleared his throat and continued, “So, as I was saying, there’s this genie, right? And the genie can grant three wishes, one for each of them. So the wife goes first, she says, ‘I wish my husband would stop watching football and spend more time with me,’ and poof, the entire sport of football magically disappears.”

“This is a dumb joke,” Paul said. He was in a sour mood, and John’s attempt at lifting his spirits wasn’t as well received as he had hoped.

“Hey. I never said it was a good one, but now we’re too far to turn back. I gotta finish it.” He said.

“Well, then finish it.”

“Thank you, I will,” John said, “So then the husband says, ‘I wish my wife was a super model’ and poof, she’s a hundred and ten pounds with double D’s. Everyone’s happy. So now the man and his wife are gonna spend more time together because she’s got the body she always wanted and he has nothing to do during his normal football time. So the genie turns to the kid, and he says, ‘Okay kid, what’s your wish?’ and the kid says, ‘I wish my dad was dead,’ so the husband and the wife are both shocked, but nothing happens, and the genie disappears. So the husband is thinking, man, this is weird, but I’m glad we’re all together. So next day comes, milkman doesn’t show up. Day after that, same thing. Day after that some new guy comes before the husband goes to work. So the husband asks him ‘Where’s the old milkman?’ and the new guy says, ‘Craziest thing happened, bastard dropped dead of a heart attack three days ago. He was only twenty five!”’ Paul stifled a small chuckle that shot pain up and down his bruised ribs, “I think one of them is cracked,” He said.

“Those guys got you pretty good, then?” John said.

“It was like they already knew when I was coming out, where I kept my gun, everything. I think it was planned.”

“You think it was Leroy’s guys?”

“Who else would it be?” Paul said, “He’s trying to send a message. Sign over The Rooster or else.”

“Or else what?”

“You know.”

John sipped his coffee.

“We could put a hit on him,” John said.

“You kidding me?!” Paul said, sitting up from his chair, anger in his voice, “No one in their right mind would touch Leroy. It would have to be someone from out of town. Do you know anyone, because I sure as hell don’t,” Paul said. He settled back down and coughed, “Besides, that’s likely to get us both killed.”

“It was just an idea.”

“An idea that’s likely to get us both killed.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t just say. Think before you say. That’s your problem, you don’t think before you talk.

You’ve got no filter. You tell these dumbass jokes and you’re on this useless crusade to save the world when we can’t even save our own asses. I’ll tell you something. I go down, you go down. We all go down. You wanna go back to picking up weekend bartending shifts? Maybe I can put you over at my convenience stores. How would you like that, retail management?”

“Calm down, Paul. We’ll think of something. I promise.”

“You promise! You promise this, you promise that, well if you promise everyone something, how are you going to deliver?” “I’ll tell you two things,” John said, “First, you need a drink. For the rib if nothing else. Second, I need to open the bar. Maybe these two problems can solve each other.”