Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Solstice ❯ Vulpes Lupe part 1 ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter Three

Vulpes Lupe

 

Manaus, Brasil. 1986, November 27.

 

Everyone thought that it was a curse, but Aleta knew that it was a miracle. She was a midwife, so any birth she considered a miracle of God. She had seen many women losing their children before they could even grace the world with their bright eyes and she had even seen women whose God's light had never graced and could not conceive. However, Aleta Santiago had been graced not once, but seven times. How her own mother and husband could consider such a wondrous thing a curse, that they honestly believed that her beloved child was cursed by Satan, was blasphemous to her. Aitana, Alonsa, Duarte, Diogo, Mirari, and Nadalia were all her little miracles, but even her own children watched her slowly rising stomach with hate, fear, and suspicion. On the day that Aleta had started to have morning sickness and had discovered that she was pregnant with her seventh child, both her mother and her husband, Marcos, had tried to get her to terminate the child. Among their family, such a thing was seen as taboo, but according to her family, a seventh child was an even greater sin. However, Aleta wouldn't hear of it. She would never kill a child, especially her own. Aleta believed in God and love, not superstitions. Still, her husband had been especially relentless, claiming that such a child would only bring death and pain to their family. No matter what she said to Marcos, his fear could not be abated. Finally, Aleta had had enough. She lost sleep, worrying about the extent that her family would go through to make sure that the child wasn't born. One day, her husband had approached her again, this time with a sinister drink mixed with herbs that would give her a miscarriage, his face filled with terror as he gazed upon her swollen stomach with the innocent fetus nestled inside. She took one of her shearing scissors that she was using to make her baby a sweater and pressed it to her wrist. She told Marcos that she would quicker take her own life than her child's and if the child died of unnatural causes, she would also kill herself. She did not care if suicide was a sin; she would rather roast in hell than live with the knowledge that the man she loved was responsible for their child's death. After that, people backed off, realizing how serious she was.

On November 27, 6:45 at night, Aleta gave birth to her seventh child, a small babe with very pale skin. She had worried when the nurse had handed her, her baby as the child did not have her or Marcos' skin tone, but she knew instinctively that this baby was theirs. This birth had been the easiest she had ever endured. Labor had been swift and there had no complications. If Aleta had had a son, she had decided that she wanted to call him Paulos and because of his size, she had thought that it was a good name for the tiny child, but then she saw his flaming hair.

“What's his name?” The nurse asked. Aleta smiled weakly, holding her sleeping baby securely.

“Inigo,” she murmured, “My precious little fire fox.”

 

 

Four years later…

 

Aleta watched her little Inigo as he sat in the living room of their house, a huge pad of paper on his lap that was almost bigger than he was, sketching away. Only the sounds of his pencil on the paper and the click of Aleta's sewing needle filled the empty house. Marcos and their other children had gone to the store to get dinner. Marcos had tried to plead with her to come with them, but Aleta refused unless Inigo was willing to go. He wasn't. Things had been different and stale in their family since Inigo had been born, but Aleta didn't blame him. He was just a four year old boy. Aleta smiled as Inigo continued to draw. All of her children had drawn at Ingio's age, but never like this. Her little fox was so talented; even a simple farmer's wife could see that. She refused to let her baby become a farmer like Marcos. He had too much talent to waste his hands on taking care of cattle and crops. Aleta had nothing against her husband's profession, but none of her other children had ever displayed an ability like this. Anything that Inigo saw, in his head or with his eyes, he could put on paper in perfect detail. He deserved to have his art in a museum somewhere, New York or Paris maybe. Just the thought of her child being someone important like that filled her with pride. More than any of this, Inigo was truly happy when he drew. He was such a quiet, pensive, and careful child. At the same time, he was almost brutally honest. Inigo had very little ability for lies or deception and spoke and acted with his heart. But Inigo was also very smart. Aleta could see that Inigo could tell that he was treated differently than his siblings by everyone except for his mother. Heck, even Aleta treated Inigo differently. The boy was so lonely; she couldn't help but give him preferential treatment. She knew she shouldn't, but whenever she looked into his large, strange amber eyes, she ended up giving him everything he wanted, though he seldom asked for anything with his mouth, his eyes spoke volumes, whether it was a simple hug or a new pencil set. The clacking of the needles stilled as Aleta watched Inigo draw. Even at four years old, Inigo was small. He had a beautiful face, almost feminine, but he was not specifically effeminate. His limbs were long and he was very slender. Unlike his parents, his skin was pale and his eyes were an eerie golden brown unlike Aleta and Marcos' dark brown eyes and deeply tanned skin. Then there was his hair. Inigo's hair was a shimmering mass that slid down his slender back to his hips. The hair was thick and slightly curled the color of a sunset; hundreds of different colors of red and gold with a jet black stripe down the middle. That stripe reminded Aleta of a Grackle's feathers, whenever it struck the light in a certain way, she could see rainbows in it. Marcos had tried to cut it when it had started to grow, but within a week, the hair had completely grown back. The weird thing was that it had stopped growing once it had reached that length. Marcos had been terrified when he had seen that hair return. Aleta loved Inigo's hair. It reminded her of a fox or molten lava. She did not mind him keeping it at that length. It suited him. He also had a nervous habit of playing with the long locks when he was deep in thought. His fingers were long and thin; the fingers of an artist.

“What are you drawing, honey?” Aleta asked. Inigo heard his mother call him and forced himself out of his deep thoughts that he often succumbed to when he was lost in his art.

“Oxen,” he responded with a bright smile as he grabbed a few more different tones of brown to complete the flank of the largest ox he was sketching. Aleta's own smile grew. At his age, her other children could barely tell the difference between one of their cows and a deer, let alone know an impressive word like `oxen'.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Aleta knew that the peace between the two of them was gone, at least for now. Marcos strode in, his arms filled with bags of groceries. Her four daughters and two other sons raced to the kitchen. She could hear them giggling to each other as they put the food away. She stood up and started towards the kitchen. Marcos' cold, brown eyes fell on Inigo whose concentration had become fixed to his father like a mouse to a bobcat, waiting for the next move that would single any sort of aggression. Marcos narrowed his eyes at the redhead. He hated the boy. He felt as though his masculinity had been taken from him by a mere baby. He was terrified of such a tiny creature and what was worse was the fact that Inigo had yet to show his true colors. Marcos could see what the child was where his wife could not, yet Inigo was not outwardly the monster that everyone believed he was. Basically, the boy was sweet and kind, but it was all a lie. Those eyes of his; wide, amber colored like a fox's. No human had eyes like that. His hair was too red with that peculiar black stripe, his skin too pale. Then there was his wife's reaction to the child. She was blind by motherly affection and could not see that one day her so-called precious baby would turn into a monster. Marcos remember the stories his own mother had told him when he was a child of huge, terrible wolves that would drag babies and children off into the night with their massive jaws.

“Go help your mother in the kitchen,” Marcos snapped as Inigo refused to break away his gaze. Inigo jumped up.

“Okay, Daddy!” Inigo exclaimed happily.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!” Marcos growled. Aleta's dark brown eyes glared furiously at Marcos.

“Marcos!” She snarled, but Inigo was already running to the kitchen. The boy was used to his father saying things like this to him and on the outside, didn't seem fazed by it, but Aleta knew better. No words could possibly describe how much she wanted things in this family to work out. She couldn't understand it, why did it have to be like this? It was enough to make her cry.

 

 

A year later…

 

Inigo escaped from the house early in the morning as he often did whenever he go the chance. He loved his mother dearly, more than anything else in the world, though he didn't have anyone else, but he still liked to be by himself and away from that house. Inigo had always known that he was a bit different, that his family, excluding his mother, both feared and hated him, and he had always been bullied by his older brothers an sisters when their mother's back was turned, but ever since his grandmother had moved in with them, things had gotten much worse.

Marcos had gotten much more confident with his mother around. However, Inigo quickly realized that his father was just as afraid of her as he was of him, the only difference was that the fear Marcos felt for his mother had also created cold respect for her. Maria looked down at Inigo as though he were a diseased cockroach, yet there was also a spark of fear in that cold gaze. The biggest difference between his grandmother and his father was the fact that, to Maria, Aleta was nonexistent. To Maria, her daughter in law was simply a spineless harlot who happened to living in her younger son's house, therefore she saw no need to hide her disgust of her grandson. She was, however, somewhat subtle in her abuse. Nasty remarks and names and harsh pinches were done in the open, but Aleta did not know what to do besides trying to keep them apart. Aleta often fantasized about leaving her husband and running with Inigo to some far off place. Her family was beyond repair. It had happened so subtlety. She thought that her other children were truly her own, but she was beginning to see that they were Maria and Marcos', not hers. Only Inigo was hers. How had this happened? She could see it now, there small mannerisms, their likes and dislikes, it was even in the food they ate; all of their actions mirrored their father and their grandmother. There was nothing left in them that was hers, except for slight physical features. Yet, Inigo looked nothing like her and she had never felt closer to him than any other human being, even her own mother who had died seven years ago. But still, even with all of these thoughts circling around in her head, she could not bring herself to leave her family. She just wasn't strong enough. Where would she go and how would she raise her five year old?

Inigo could see all of these thoughts and feelings in his mother's eyes and he hated his grandmother for making her feel like that. He was surrounded by people he was connected to by blood, but all he had was his mother. If she finally decided to pack their things and leave their family behind, he would go with her. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't do anything right. How could he help his mother when he couldn't even stand up to his grandmother?

Inigo snuck out of the house with his water colors and a sandwich of lightly cooked chicken livers with a spicy onion sauce. He loved spicy foods, but mostly he loved meat. He had no idea why that was since he had no aversion to salad, but there was something about meat that tasted so good; the rawer the better. He ran through the wheat field that was part of their property. It had rained the last few days and the ground was nothing more than thick mud. If he stood in one place for too long, his feet would sink in, but the mud didn't bother him. He was light and knew that his mother wouldn't be mad if he got his clothes a little bit dirty. If he went to the west, he would encounter the wooden fence that ran through the property and the several cows, oxen, chickens, pigs, and other animals that his father raised and sold for a living. That was all well and good and Inigo like playing with the ducks and chickens, but today he just wanted to be alone. He continued to walk until his short body was completely hidden by the tall wheat grass. This would be a good place to color, he thought. He grabbed a pencil and started to sketch.

His pencil traveled over the paper, but nothing came to him just yet. He looked up into the blue sky. Bright colored birds flew over him. He bit his lip. He wondered what incredible things the birds had seen as they traveled. Inigo had never left Manaus. It was weird knowing that just outside of his town lay a thick forest and the rushing waters of the Amazon River which was home to so many beautiful creatures. He had lived in South America all of his life, yet there were so many things in this country alone that he wanted to see, let alone other places in the world. He wanted to see the tigers of Asia, the wild dogs of Africa, the crocodiles of Australia, and the wolves of North America. But how could he want these things when he hadn't even seen the snakes, jaguars, or tapir of his own homeland? Inigo looked back down at his sketch pad to see the beginnings of a large wolf forming from his pencil tip.

The tall reeds hid Inigo well, but it also made it impossible for him to see around him, especially when he was concentrating on his art. He didn't even notice as an hour passed and the sun rose higher in the sky. He especially didn't notice when his brothers and sisters found his hiding spot. By the time the six of them had surrounded him, it was too late. He sensed their presence around him, but did not move or make any sort of indication that he knew that they were there. He hoped that the longer that he ignored them, the quicker they would become bored and leave him alone. Somehow, he knew that today he wouldn't be so lucky.

“Hey, monster,” Aitana, Inigo's oldest sister, jeered. Inigo didn't say anything. He was used to threats and insults by his siblings. It didn't make it hurt any less, but he understood that any type of retaliation would make their abuse worse. If he stayed low to the ground, he might get out of this one with only a few bruises this time. Aitana was very tall, taller than her brothers. She had short, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. She was eighteen years old and would soon be looking for a husband, but for now she spent her days reveling in the independence that she wouldn't have for long and led around her other siblings like a female alpha wolf. Unlike her brothers and sisters, Aitana did not fear the small redhead, she simply hated him. The sight of his bright black and red hair disgusted her. That such a tiny, despicable creature could create a power like fear in her father made her furious. She didn't know what her mother saw in him, but she did understand that Inigo had taken something vital from their mother's affection for himself. He was so weak and worthless, so why did he still walk around with such exuberant spirit?

“God, you're so ugly, I can barely stand to look at you!” Aitana spat as the others smirked. Inigo flinched a little. “Something as ugly as you doesn't deserve to live. I'm surprised the doctor didn't smother you when he saw your face! A beast like you doesn't deserve to be happy! Why don't you do mama and papa a favor and just crawl away and die?” She demanded. Inigo's fist curled around his pencil. He bit his lip. The worst part of all was that he couldn't find a single thing to say to deny what she was saying. He knew that his family was broken and that it was all because of him. But his mother had fought to keep him, which said something didn't it? She wouldn't have done that if she didn't love him, right?

“Every time we see your smiling face, we want to puke!” Duarte, Diogo's twin brother, both sixteen, smirked, confirming Aitana's insults. Suddenly, Inigo felt water pouring over his head, soaking him and his picture, ruining it. He shuddered at the feeling of the cold water and dull fury filled him as he saw the sketch he had made becoming blurred.

“Aw,” Alonsa, the second oldest at seventeen said, a familiar glass bottle that Inigo knew was his grandmother's was clutched in her hand, “I thought that when you through holy water at monsters they were supposed to burn up?” Aitana grinned.

“No, he's way too evil for something like that. We need something stronger, but first…” Inigo noticed for the first time that Aitana was holding a gleaming pair of shearing scissors, probably stolen from their mother's sewing basket, “We need to show mama just how ugly her `sweet little fox' really is!”

Inigo was up in a flash, trying to dodge away from his sister, but she gripped his long hair in her fist and dragged him back, making him yelp in pain. He felt the sharp edges of the scissors digging into his neck and a little trickle of blood started to trail down. When it went down between his shoulder blades, he squirmed at the itchy feeling.

“How about a haircut, monster?” Aitana sneered, gripping his hair more tightly. Inigo spun in her grip, hurting his scalp and making the scissors cut him more, and kicked her hard in the jaw. Aitana reeled back at the force, stunned momentarily by the unexpected pain and the shocking fact that the little boy had, for once, fought back. Inigo felt her hands leave his hair and bolted. Diogo grabbed the quick five year old's ankles, slamming him to the ground. Aitana glared down at Inigo, her hazel eyes fierce.

“Little freak!” She hissed, shoving Inigo down into the mud. Inigo cried out, struggling against her as she ground him into the watery, brown mess, the thick mud coating his clothes, face, and hair. She grabbed a fistful and rubbed it deep into his hair and down his throat. Inigo gagged and tried to throw up the mud as gravel in it cut up his mouth.

“There, now you look real pretty,” Aitana cooed cruelly. Inigo's amber eyes searched blindly for a way out; a gap or some sympathetic face. He saw his father and grandmother standing off to the side, watching intently; a fierce look in his father's eyes and his grandmother had a small smile on hers. Were they just going to sit here and watch while his brothers and sisters killed him like a pack of wild dogs? He knew that it didn't matter what happened to him, neither of them would intervene. Fury filled him. He had done nothing wrong! Why should he be punished just for being born? He felt Aitana's nails digging into his bloody neck.

“Why don't you just kill yourself?” She hissed. Inigo narrowed his eyes at her angrily. Aitana suddenly felt cold at that glare. What was that look all about? It sent shivers down her spine, it made her feel terrified and she hated that.

“I'll never kill myself!” Inigo snarled. His intense amber eyes fell on his father, who stared back in shock.

“I don't care what you do to me,” Inigo snapped, “You'll never break me and I'll never be like you! I'll never be so disgusting as to hurt another person because of fear and hate!” Tears fell down Inigo's cheeks but he didn't feel them, “I'll get over this,” he whispered, “One day, I'll forget all about the things you've done to me and I'll forget all about you. All of you will become nothing more than a bad memory to me.”

Inigo watched with satisfaction as Maria's smile vanished and was replaced with a frustrated frown.

Aitana gritted her teeth. She was stronger than this little beast; she still had the upper hand! She could replace that confident look in his eyes with one of fear again. She had no idea where that strength had come from, but she didn't like it.

Aitana and Maria's eyes met. Maria nodded to her granddaughter. Aitana returned to Inigo, his eyes still defiant, and her look turned from cruel joy to something even more sinister. She took off her necklace, a silver cross in which each end was pointed and sharp. Its silver gleamed in the rising sun. Her nails dug into Inigo's neck.

“It's like they say, only silver can purify the blood,” she said with a crazy grin.

Inigo thrashed in her grip, but Diogo and Duarte held him down. Nadalia and Mirari, the two youngest of the six at ages ten and eleven, simply watched all of this with cow like expressions, neither shocked nor disgusted. They had seen this happen to their younger brother enough times that it became as common place as watching their father decapitating one of their chickens for supper.

Aitana gripped Inigo's pale ear lobe and stabbed the cross through it. Inigo screamed at the searing pain and he felt run down his neck. Aitana giggled.

“Does it hurt?” She asked with interest, “Now we just have to chop off your head and… goodbye monster!”

“Is it working?” Mirari asked. All six children plus their father and grandmother were too focused on Inigo's pained face to hear the shocked gasp among his screams.

Aitana screeched as someone grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off of Inigo.

“You little monster!” Aleta screamed as Inigo curled up in shock and pain. Aleta screamed as Inigo curled up in shock and pain. Aleta slapped her three times, hard, across her face as the other children scattered and ran, not wanting to endure their mother's wrath.

“Mommy, please stop!” Aitana begged. Aleta picked up Inigo and cradled him to her. Pure hate blazed in her eyes as she looked at her first born.

“Don't you dare call me that ever again!” She hissed. Inigo wrapped his arms around his savior's neck and buried his head into her soft shoulder, wanting the pain and loud, angry noises to go away. Aitana flinched away from her mother.

Marcos and Maria approached them.

“Aleta, please, kids will be kids,” Marcos insisted with a shrug.

“That's right. They were doing what they thought was best for this family,” Maria said, glaring at Inigo's slim, shaking back. Aleta turned her furious gaze on them.

“ `Kids will be kids', Marco? Really? … Then what is your excuse?!” She snarled and stalked back to the house.

 

Marcos, Aitana, and Maria did not try to follow them back to the house and her other children were not there, either. This suited her just fine, but she locked the door behind her anyway. If she saw any of them right now, she would do something terrible and she didn't want to frighten Inigo anymore. She felt an imaginary, but no less solid, door slam in her mind, separating her forever from the rest of her family. She finally realized that it was just her and Inigo, so why couldn't she leave? What was still holding her to this family?

Inigo was a little trooper, Aleta thought, as she brought him to the bathroom. His wounds had finally stopped bleeding, though he was still shaking a little. She turned on the hot faucet and let the tub fill as she helped Inigo out of his clothes. She examined every inch of his body, memorizing every little cut, ever bruise, every hurt. Her hands clenched and she had to bite her lip to not sob.

“It's ok, Mommy,” Inigo tried to assure her. Aleta shook her head frantically, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she felt tears prickling them. She hugged him tightly, the mud sticking to her dress, but she didn't care as she felt his small, but powerful heat in her arms. It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how lonely she was in this house full of people. That was the answer, wasn't it? She couldn't leave because she was terrified of the unknown, just as she was terrified of this loneliness consuming her.

“No, bay, it's not ok at all,” she murmured. She felt Inigo press his cheek against her neck. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, just clinging to each other and filled with guilt; Inigo for being the reason for his mother's tears and Aleta for not being able to protect her child from her other offspring. Finally, Aleta got a hold of herself.

“C'mon, baby, in the tub. You'll feel better when we get that mud off of you.”

Inigo nodded and slipped into the hot water. His cute face scrunched up in pain as the water made his wounds sting. In only a few minutes, the water turned brown and Aleta had to refill it. She scrubbed at his skin and hair tenderly. Inigo purred as the mud was washed off and he started to feel clean again.

His ear had stopped bleeding, but there was a deep puncture that was nearly a gaping hole and Aleta knew that the punctures from Aitana's nails on Inigo's neck would scar. The boy's throat was sore and his voice was slightly raspy, but Aleta knew how strong children could be. She knew that Inigo would heal from this, inside and out. When he was older, he might look back at this as a painful experience, but right now he would get through it. Physically, Inigo had been a quick healer since he was a baby. The most painful thing to Aleta was that Inigo didn't blame her for anything; he still looked at her with the trust and respect that small children had for their mothers. It just made her feel more guilty.

She helped Inigo comb out his long hair; put on his pajamas, then put him to bed. She saw with relief that the second she had tucked him in, he had fallen deeply asleep. How much longer could this go on? Why couldn't she be the good mother she had always wanted to be? Inigo didn't deserve this.

For the rest of the day and night, Inigo slept peacefully, for which Aleta was grateful. She thought that this was a good sign that he was doing ok, but she also just couldn't handle the guilt that his innocent, amber eyes caused her right now.

Around dinner time, Marcos, Maria, and her six other children shuffled in. Aleta went back and forth between staring at them with cold hate and just ignoring them all together. She holed up in the living room and when Marcos asked her what she was making for dinner, she acted as though he was nothing more than a ghost. After a few minutes of trying to get a rise out of her, he gave up with a huff of annoyance about overly emotional women and Maria took care of the meal. The older woman came in after dinner to scold Aleta for not taking care of her family, but as with Marcos, she soon learned that the angry woman was not going to respond, so she also left her alone to knit. Aleta's children, on the other hand, were either much wiser or more cowardly than the adults and steered clear of her. There was something about their mother holding those pointy sewing needles that gave them the common sense not to bother her.

 

Aleta did not emerge from the living room until the nighttime. The younger children went to bed while the older one complained loudly about the television being in the living room, but they still did not dare to go in there. Aitana stayed in a corner of the kitchen, nursing her wounds and broken pride and sulking. Maria went to Inigo's bedroom. It was ridiculous that this whole family had been usurped by one small child, she thought. Because of this one boy, everyone was in a constant state of fear. The devil had even bewitched his own mother! Nothing should ever turn a mother against her children. It was startling that Marcos had not taken control. The devil was, after all, still young in his reign and the only thing protecting it at this stage in its development was Aleta. Marcos was a man, yet lately he was acting like a cowed babe! Then again, her younger son was nothing like her older one, he had always been a bit too easy to push around. But, that just made it that it would be Maria's job to do her saintly duty and purify the house and those that lived here. It was obvious to her that Aleta was beyond salvaging. The devil had its claws too deep in her soul. Maria only hoped that once the devil was exorcised and destroyed by God that its mother would be free from its treacherous hold, if not, well, the bible was clear of what to do with witches.

Maria gripped the knob to the creature's bedroom and twisted it. To her anger, the door did not budge. The door was locked.

“What are you doing, mother?”

Maria turned. Aleta stood there, a key dangling from her finger tips.

“All of the doors to this house are wondrous things,” Aleta said in a sweet voice, “You can lock all of them with this one key and they can only be opened with this key from the outside.”

Maria's eyes narrowed.

“How dare you deny access to this home to me?!”

Aleta glared right back.

“I dare to protect Inigo from the witch that has chosen to reside in his home.”

“This home is not that thing's!” Maria snapped, “That… creature… does not deserve protection! You are so self absorbed that you deny your own precious children for that devil! It must be purified, maybe then you will come to your senses you stupid woman!”

“This is Inigo's home more than it will ever be yours, you heartless cow! He is not a creature, he is a little boy that my `precious children' just tried to torture and perhaps even kill! You've already condemned him to hell before he has done a single thing wrong! I'm sorry, but I refuse to harm an innocent child for silly make believe superstition! Even the leader of this country has come to his senses about such things, so why can't you?! If I were to hurt that poor child, I would be much worse than the monster you see him as!” Aleta snarled.

“I will not let it grow up to do harm! It tricks you now to make you think that it is a child, but it is a demon! You are lame to believe its lies!”

Maria cried out as Aleta grabbed her short hair and tugged her close to her face. She pointed one of her sewing needles close to Maria's widened eyes. Maria watched the sharp tip of horror as it swayed from one eye to the next in a threatening arc.

“If you so much as call him a bad name to his face,” Aleta hissed in her mother in law's ear, “I will gouge out your eyes and feed them to the pigs. Let's see how much harm you can do to children then!” She released her grip on Maria's hair and watched in proud satisfaction as the woman ran off to her own bedroom slamming the door behind her.

Aleta opened the door with the key as quietly as she could, checking to see if the fighting had woken Inigo. She smiled down at him as she saw that he was deep asleep. He had kicked off the covers and his red hair was adorably mussed. She tucked him back in and kissed his cheek.

`Everything will be better in the morning,' she tried to tell herself, even if she didn't believe it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inigo barely remembered that night. His dreams were strange; filled with howls, screaming, pain, light touches like feathers on his skin, blood, dirt, shadows, and being surrounded by something warm, like hot bath or blanket that covered his entire body. All in all, what he could remember was not altogether unpleasant, just strange and disconcerting. He remembered everything from the day before and felt anger swell up in him. He was so tired of how he was treated by his family, especially since he didn't full understand what was supposed to be wrong with him. He looked different from everyone else, but that didn't seem to be the main problem. With the exception of his mother, he was treated like a young jaguar in a hen coop. It was strange, like he was some dangerous animal, yet not dangerous enough that they would leave him alone. He couldn't understand it; he didn't think that he had ever done anything wrong. Sure, he, like any other child his age, had done things that were against the rules, like feeding the horses cookies when they were supposed to only eat hay, or sneak snacks for himself right before dinner. His mother had punished him for these things, but that was different. She would scold him and make him stay in his bedroom for hours, but she didn't strike him. She didn't look at him in that eerie, hateful way like his brothers, sisters, father, and grandmother. Inigo wondered how he could be so disgusting if his mom didn't treat him that way. If there was something really wrong with him, she would hate him, too, right? So, maybe all the bad feelings that smoldered in the house like low level smog were a mistake. Maybe why his mother cried when she thought that no one was looking and that she had slowly distanced herself from everything except him through the years wasn't really his fault. He was just so sick of it! Why should he feel guilty about something he couldn't even understand?

His actions as he managed to wake up and get out of bed were sluggishly. He still hurt a little, but it wasn't as bad as it was before. The worst was his stomach, which was hollow from skipping so many meals, but he felt better overall. He didn't feel so cowed and abused as he did that morning. He changed his clothes, looking at himself in the mirror. Whatever spurred such disgust in his father's eyes, he just couldn't see it. His young body was slender and pale, the bruises and scrapes seemed to glare at him on the fair skin. His ear lobe was badly swollen, but the hole wasn't bleeding or leaking fluid. Living on a farm, Inigo had learned that if you were leaking fluid, it was a very bad thing. One of their dogs had gotten bitten by a fox and had started leaking weird fluid from the wound and around his mouth and his dad had had to shoot it out in the woods. His mom thought that he didn't know about that, but he wasn't stupid. His dad and the dog had disappeared, then there had been the sound of a gun. Inigo had heard that sound before when foxes and wild dogs would wander on to their property. Inigo always felt bad for them, they were just hungry. Inigo searched his body desperately, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. There was no tail, no third eye, no forked tongue, nothing to warrant the names and looks he got. Perhaps it was all in their heads and he and his mother were the only sane ones left in the household.

Everyone was sitting at the table, already eating. Aleta was busy cooking lunch, which, Inigo saw with delight, that it was one of his favorites, Cabidela, Alcatra, and Aletria. No one else liked Cabidela as Maria found it too rich and his siblings thought that the process was gross, something that Inigo thought was funny considering how often they ate Tripas and Túbaros, though he doubted that they knew what that was. It was amazing how they saw food like that as disgusting when they had been eating it their whole lives. Inigo didn't see why it was disgusting, food was food and it tasted delicious. For breakfast they were having piri bread, serra da estrela, vanilla yoghurt, and cinnamon custard malasadas.

“Good morning, Innie,” Aleta said with a bright smile..

“Morning, momma,” Inigo chirped, smiling as she kissed him on the cheek. Nadalia finished her piri and estrela and got up to get some yoghurt, bumping into Inigo. Aleta handed Inigo his plate, but refused to help Nadalia. Inigo noted that usually his mother would serve them at the table, but today it looked like her temper was still up and, though she had clearly made the food, she wouldn't be making anyone's dishes but his. He dug into the piri and estrela with gusto. He loved spicy foods, so the soft bread that had been made with piri chili peppers was delicious and was perfect with the serra da estrela, which, made from sheep's milk, was pretty strong as cheese went. Inigo didn't usually eat cheese with his bread and settled for preserves and butter, but today he was so hungry, he needed something to fill him up quickly. He finished the bread and went on to the yoghurt, which Aleta handed to him at the table when she saw that he was done. She was glad to see that the events of yesterday hadn't effected his appetite.

The vanilla in the yoghurt was almost heavenly and Inigo hummed as he ate it. He had had that habit for awhile, humming when he ate something particularly yummy. He knew that annoyed his father, but he didn't care. Suddenly, he noticed Nadalia whispering something to Diogo, the two of them giggling. Inigo looked down at the yoghurt and finally saw it, a fat worm were wriggling in the thick, creamy concoction. Inigo felt bile rising in his throat, but swallowed it down. It was just a worm, he thought, it wasn't like it was a poisonous mushroom. No, it wasn't the worm that made him feel sick, it was just the fact of what they had done mixed with that they had gotten past Inigo's defenses. Usually he was very careful with his food and checked that it hadn't been tampered with, but after what had happened yesterday, he had hoped that they would back off for a little while, especially since Aitana didn't seem to be around right now. Not again, Inigo thought, he wasn't going to deal with their cruel games anymore. With his spoon, he picked up the worm and slurped it down, munching on it like a large strand of linguini. When it was significantly chewed on, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue when none of the adults were looking. The other kids had turned green when they saw him eating the night crawler nonchalantly and a few of them had excused themselves as they were treated to the sight of the thing chewed up on his tongue. Nadalia took it the worst, running to the bathroom. Inigo grinned at Diogo, his look feral and almost manic, then returned to his yoghurt. Diogo turned pale at the grin, a part of him shocked that the worm had had no affect and terrified at the dominant, crazy look on the child's face. He knew at that moment that the fun and games had stopped. If they tried to bully the red head around anymore, there would be retaliation, and his imagination came up with horrible things more easily than Inigo could, which suited the five year old fine. After all, there was no worse horror than what the human mind could come up with on its own.

Aleta noticed the sudden exodus of the other children, but didn't say anything as Maria went to see what the matter was. Inigo continued to munch happily, this time on the malasadas that she supplied him with. The boy was looking much better today, his face had more color in it and he was radiating a sort of strange confidence.

 

The moon was bright out tonight and he couldn't sleep. Inigo only had one window in his room and tonight the full moon was at the perfect angle to shine right into his room. The light was silvery and usually something like that would make him feel so good and relaxed, he would fall right to sleep, but tonight, the sight of the bright moon made him feel oddly excited, anxious, and restless, but it was not a painful feeling, just intense, like a burst of adrenaline, but softer, like wonder.

It was easy sneaking out of the house. Inigo hoped that after a long walk, he could sneak back in and fall asleep without anyone even knowing that he was gone. In the springtime, the air was both hot and cool, so he wandered out into the field wearing only his long, cotton night shirt. The moon was huge in the dark sky, a light silvery blue. There were no sounds, it was completely quiet. It was almost eerie given how many animals they had out here. Inigo tossed his head back and gave a long, mournful howl to the moon, the only thing that would listen. For a moment, everything was still. There was no wind, no babbling of crickets or the river that was near there home, just perfect silence. He had no idea why he had done that, perhaps just to make some sort of noise, maybe he had hoped that something would talk back to him. There had to be something out there that understood his loneliness. He loved his mother as any good child would, but he still yearned for someone his own age, someone like him, that he could talk to. But, there was nothing out here, so he continued to walk, past the chicken coops and stables to the area that was fenced off for the steer and cows.

Inigo loved the feeling of the wet grass in his toes. He did his best to stay away from the muddy parts of the field. He didn't know exactly why, but he felt better out here than in the house. He felt safer. He felt stronger. Inigo's nostrils flared slightly and he smelled the thick aroma of cattle. As soon as the smell hit him, his stomach responded with a loud growl and he could almost feel himself salivate at the thought of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the cattle. It would be so easy, they probably wouldn't even fight back…

Inigo shook his head. It was such a strange thought, but he had been having a lot of strange thoughts lately, like how easy it would be to sneak into Aitana's room late at night and rip out her throat or how he could just run, run far away, go into the woods and disappear. He hated such violence, so why did he find himself wanting to indulge in it so much lately? But his thoughts didn't matter, it was his actions and he would never do such to terrible things to anyone, even if he hated them, even if they deserved it. He wondered why the smell of cows and chicken made him feel so terribly hungry inside when the cooked, left over meat in the refrigerator didn't hold any real interest for him. Yet, watching his mom prepare the raw meat, that was something else. The flesh was dead, but he could still smell the blood. He supposed that he had always felt that way on some level. He had always preferred the dishes that were made with blood or the meat was very undercooked. But, he had never felt such a strong urge to actually eat a living animal before. There was nothing different about him physically than anyone else, so why did he feel so different?

 

 

Just as he thought, the next morning, no one seemed to notice that he had ever left the house. He was beginning to feel like he had a strange, secret life. He had never kept anything from his mother, so these subtle secrets, the need to run, his love of the moon, sneaking out of the house just so he could get a single whiff of wild meat, seemed huge to him and they also embarrassed him. He was afraid that if he told her about these things, she would see that the others were right; he was a monster. He still wasn't so sure, himself. He didn't see how liking meat and taking nightly walks made him any less than human, but he did know that it wasn't normal. Besides, his mother was all he had in the world and his biggest fear was losing her, either to the natural causes of the world, or the fear that everyone else had of him.

It was nice out today. The mud was slowly drying into soft dirt again. Inigo noticed the sun high in the sky, he knew that the next few days were going to be unbearably hot, but at least for today, it was only mildly warm. There was a soft breeze and, as he sat down under a tall timber tree, he submersed himself in the sounds and smells of the only world he had ever known. As the wind moved through the croton, a soft, whistling sound filled the warm air. Even very far away from the barn and all the animals, he could hear them perfectly, as thought they were only a few feet away, the loud, deep, moaning cries of the cows, the sharp clucks of the chickens, even the snorts of the pigs as his father fed them their breakfast. He heard the menagerie of birds off in the forests, sounding very much like a complex, beautiful symphony. He could smell the açorda and alheira that his mother was cooking for dinner, mixed with the strong animal odor that was present at any farm and the sweet, airy aroma of white clovers that bloomed in the field he was sitting near. If he was another person, he might have questioned how he could sense all of these things, but he had been like this his whole life and had no concept of what was normal for anyone else but him.

It wasn't often that he would come out here without a pad of paper to draw on, but today he just wanted to observe with nothing to divert his attention. Aitana seemed to have gotten her confidence back. Alonsa, Duarte, Diogo, and Aitana where playing fútbol with a battered, brown ball that had been white and black checkered a very long time ago, but now it was covered in mud and scuff marks. The four screamed and shouted at each other as they played. Inigo hated the loud noises. They set him on edge since he was so used to those voices screaming at him, but he was still glad. They were so absorbed in their game that they didn't seem to notice them. Aitana was sporting a nasty looking bruise on her cheek. Inigo watched them and felt an odd yearning to join them as they kicked the ball at each other. He didn't really want to play with those people, but it still looked so fun. He was small, even for his age, but he loved to run. Beyond that, he didn't have much of an athletic side. He wondered about that, though. He had never actually played with other kids, so how was he to know how athletic he was? He was a decent runner and was quite fast and agile. He didn't do many chores beyond helping his mother clean. He wasn't aloud to help out with the animals or farming, partially because he was so small and couldn't do much and there was a good chance that he could be trampled by the horses or cows, and partially because his father didn't want to have him around anymore than he had to. It made him feel so useless, watching the rest of his family struggling to make a living while he mostly just hung around, taking walks and drawing. He hoped that when he was older, he would be allowed more responsibility. He didn't know much about farming, unlike his siblings. Since his father refused to have him around while he was working, he hadn't been able to figure things out by watching like most people. However, he did love animals and he wouldn't mind feeding and grooming the animals on their farm. Inigo blinked out of his thoughts as something bumped against his leg. With his brothers' and sisters' voices still ringing in his sensitive ears, he felt jolted and tensed up, ready to defend himself. Instead of a hand or a foot pressing against his leg, he saw a brown ball. He blinked at it in confusion, standing up with the dirty ball in his small hands.

“Hey, fucker, kick it here!” Diogo yelled, though none of them moved towards Inigo. Aitana hung back, watching Inigo with distrustful eyes. She was much different now. She was no longer the confident pack leader that she had been days before. Inigo preferred this nervous girl to the bully that he had always known. He was amazed that it was him that she was so scared of when it was there mother that had hit her. It was like having some sort of newfound power. Inigo narrowed his amber eyes at them. Why did these people deserve to have fun when he felt so miserable? He dropped the ball and kicked it as hard as he could.

He had never kicked a ball before, let alone perform a drop kick like that, so even he was shocked at how the ball went, soaring through the air, over their heads and over the field until they finally lost sight of it through the trees of the forest on the border of their land, covering over a hundred yards. The four older kids watched with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Inigo just stared as the small ball disappeared. How? Something like that wasn't possible, right? He had seen his brothers and sisters kick the ball just as hard and not cover a fourth of the length he had just managed. As the four turned to him, the hate had disappeared from their eyes and had been replaced by pure, unadulterated fear. They seemed to shrink from him and he realized that they were just like him. They had heard the things that their father and grandmother said about him, but had never really understood. They had hated and bullied him because of their father's own reactions to him, but now they had actually seen a slight glimmer of truth. Inigo didn't know if that made things better or worse. Their fear was just as scary as their hate, but maybe that fear would make them leave him alone.

 

The moon was hidden by the clouds tonight. Inigo knew the moment that he had saw that ball disappear, that, not only was he different, he was confirming some of the things that his father believed about him. He still wasn't so sure that he was a monster, but he also wasn't sure that he was entirely human. What bothered him the most, was that it didn't bother him. He was different, yes, but he didn't feel evil. He wondered if anyone really did. After all, Aitana had felt right in hurting him, so how was he to know that the things he thought and did wasn't evil? But, he didn't want to die. He loved living. He loved smelling the flowers and watching the birds and being with his mother. He wished that he could be someone different, sometimes. He wished that he was someone that his father could love, but at the same time, he didn't want to change. Why couldn't they just love him for who he was? Why did he have to destroy himself in order to be loved by his family. No, not his whole family, his mother loved him just fine. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the desire to be something, someone, stronger and better fill him. Maybe if he felt it long enough, something good would happen. It was a childish thought, but despite how mature he was for his age, he didn't care. It was such a stupid wish, but he couldn't help it. When he opened his eyes, the world was a different place.

It was like taking a hot bath. His whole body became pleasantly warm an it seemed like everything had turned to liquid. Then the night became sharper, clearer in his mind. Suddenly, the liquid started to build itself back up, but now Inigo felt stronger. He felt incredible, like he could do anything. He did not need to open his eyes; his nose was telling him things that he would never see. Every scent and every sound painted a picture in his mind. Then, he opened his eyes and he could see. He felt larger somehow, but he was sitting, so how was that possible? Yet, he did have a higher vision and the ground felt farther away than it had before. He felt so strange, but the sensations were no painful, just different. He tried to stand but discovered that he no longer had the ability. In a panic, he looked down. Instead of the small, pale hands that he was expecting, he saw large paws with deadly looking claws covered in fur the color of his hair. His ears and tail twitched in confusion. Tail? Inigo got on all fours to try to see behind him. He managed to see a bushy, red thing that he assumed was his tail. His ears bust have been different also if he could move them like that. He swiveled them back and forth, picking up sounds in every direction. It was cool, but also disconcerting. Was he dreaming? He had had dreams like this before where he was an animal, but this was different somehow. He was much too lucid for it to be a dream. He had to see himself. He had to see what he had become. He started to walk back to the house and found that, not only was walking on all fours easier than he had thought it would be, it also felt more comfortable than walking on two when he was human. It felt natural, as though he had bee doing it his whole life.

Inigo knew that going so close to the house was dangerous. He had discarded the idea that this was all a dream; he instinctively knew that it wasn't. He also knew that his family had been right all of this time, he was a monster. But, he still didn't feel like a monster. However, no matter what he had turned into, he could not do it again. He would not risk proving his father right, if only he could figure out how it had happened. He had pent his whole life as a human, so why was tonight different?

Near the house was a well. He placed his two front paws on the stone edge and leaned over to look t himself in the water. He had the same red coloring and the same amber eyes, only now the face of a wolf kit stared back at him. What worried him the most was that this image did not bother him. This form was obviously just as young as his human one, only he was the size of an adult dog, not a puppy. He wondered how big he would get as he grew older, but shook it off. It didn't matter how good he felt as a wolf, he couldn't ever turn into this creature again. He still didn't understand it. He had total control of himself, just like always. He was hungry and the smell of the cattle was powerful to him, but he wasn't slaughtering anything like some mindless beast, so how was it that he was supposed to turn into a monster? How had he turned into a wolf in the first place? He had closed his eyes and wished to someone different, someone stronger, then it had happened. He wondered if it worked both ways. He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated on all of the things that made him human; his pale, hairless skin, standing on two legs, he even envisioned his clothes. Then, it happened; the warmth, the wetness. When he opened his eyes again, he felt smaller, more vulnerable. He was even wearing the clothes he had had on before he had turned into a wolf. He was standing on two legs with no effort and from what he could see of himself, he was human again. Without a second though he crept back into the house and went to bed. His dreams were not restless.

Inigo tried to wish that he was normal, he really did, but he could not see what the big deal was. He wasn't a killer, he just happened to have the ability to turn into a very large wolf. Still, he couldn't risk making the change again, even if he yearned for it like a strange sort of addiction. The best part of all was that he felt he had a special secret. His family had suspected things about him, but they would never know the truth. He felt like he was pulling the wool over his father and grandmother's eyes. However, there was still a dark part of him that doubted how he felt. They had been right, he wasn't human. Didn't that mean that he was evil as well? He was sure that evil people didn't feel like they were evil, so how could he e so sure that he wasn't? He felt dark uncertainty fall over him Little by little, he became terrified of himself. He tried so hard after that to be a good boy, but the fear stayed with him.

Besides his grandmother, Inigo had never really met his father's family. He knew that they lived very far ay, though he wasn't really sure where they were from. He had met all of his mother's family; they just refused to visit anymore. So, he was very surprised when his father announced that his older brother was coming to visit in a few days. He hadn't even been aware he had any uncles. From the look on Aitana's face, he wasn't the only one that was surprised by this. Even his mother looked at his father with an odd look.

“All of you will behave, do you understand me?” Marcos said sharply, but his harsh gaze only fell on Inigo. Ingo couldn't help but think of this unexpected visit with foreboding. To him, his uncle would just be one more person to hate him for something he had no control over.

With the impending approach of her oldest son, Maria became livelier, cleaning the whole house with vigor Inigo had never seen in the older woman. Despite her happy appearance, Inigo didn't feel any better about it. As each minute went, his fear grew and grew. It was so stupid, he was afraid of a man he had never even met! Yet, every instinct was telling him to just get up and go. He wasn't wanted here and he sure didn't want to be here. He was confident that his uncle would rather pretend that he didn't exist. So, he should just leave and wait until his uncle had left, it would be better for everyone. However, the manners that his mother had instilled in him told him that he should at least say hello. But, as another hour passed, every instinct in him was screaming to run, run as fast as he could. He felt like he was going insane, just standing here, waiting for something to happen, his insides tight with anxiety and indecision. The ticking of the clock was alive in his ear. He could hear his mother and Maria cooking in the kitchen, but it seemed so far away. Inigo desperately needed to do something, but with his father sitting a few feet from him, watching his every move, he didn't dare to pace. With his mother occupied in the kitchen, his father had enough free reign to do as he pleased and Inigo sure wasn't going to bother her, she was too busy for his little problems. Marcos was high-strung as it was and he wasn't going to entice him to anger by annoying him. The tension in the room was thick with fear, excitement, anticipation, and anxiety. For once, all seven kids were dead still, waiting, some watching the clock, some watching the door and some watching their father. Inigo couldn't take anymore. As he left, no one said anything.

It felt good to run. The more distance he put between himself and the house, the better he felt. With each step, he felt a little bit of his anxiety drain away. He had no idea where he was headed, though, not that that mattered, as long as he was outside, it would be fine.

He finally felt that the distance was safe. He didn't have the courage to go too far from the house. He wasn't afraid of getting lost or venturing into the wilderness. He was still in the fields, and even if he decided to take the extra thirty minutes to reach the forests, he still wasn't afraid of it. He was more afraid of disappointing his mother. What if she noticed that he had slipped out and tried to find him? If he went out too far, she would be very angry, or worse, scared. He didn't want to scare her simply because of some unnamable fear of his. Really, he was being silly, and he felt bad when he thought about it. He was doing to his uncle what his family had done to him for years. He was judging the man before he had even met him. He assumed, simply because he was his father's brother, there would be problems, but that wasn't necessarily true. Perhaps his uncle would turn out like his mother? But still, he couldn't shake the dark, heavy feeling in his stomach that something bad was going to happen.

After the incident with Aitana, Inigo no longer trusted the long reeds as an appropriate hiding place. Yes, they did hide someone of his size well, but among the tawny colored plants, his red hair was bright and was like an amaryllis in the mud. Also, the tall reeds obscured his vision because of his lack of height, and his ability to see was much more important than hiding, as he had discovered that day in the mud. His fingers unconsciously ran over the puckered scar on his ear lobe. So, instead of hiding on the ground, he made his way to one of the many tall trees that grew on their property. The leaves were plentiful and thick on this one, so he hoped that they would be able to hide his flaming red hair. If it didn't, he was counting on the tree's impressive height to bring him out of anyone's eye level. With his little weight, he was able to scale the tree with no problem while his other sibling would be unable to balance on its branches. He picked what he deemed the `perfect' spot and settled against the thick trunk. He could easily see anyone on the ground, but was sufficiently hidden from anyone looking for him. Inigo didn't trust the fact that they had a guest to keep the rest of his family from bullying him in the solitude of the field. It felt good, settling among the leaves, as though he was not only hiding from his unknown uncle, but also the rest of the world and his sordid life. At least for a moment, he felt all of his stress and fear leave him and he could just focus on the things around him. The smell of the leaves was sharp and pleasant, different from the scents of his home with the spices of his mother's cooking and the strange, sterile smells of cleaning supplies. The wind was gentle and ruffled the leaves softly. When he had left the house, the blue sky was clear and the sun had made every thing warm. Now, however, no sun shone through the leaves and while the wind was not turbulent, it was still surprising on such a calm day. When the leaves moved and he could see small glimpses of the sky, he saw that the light blue was slowly turning to a dull grey and thick clouds were starting to gather. In this time of day, the fields would be thick with the sounds of various birds, but now everything was silent. Inigo knew all of the signs of an upcoming storm and was unsettled at the thought of running back to the house through an open field with lightning at his heels, but he still refused to move from the tree. His fear of his uncle surpassed his fear of a sudden storm and he was still surprised at the weather. His mother had been so happy that her brother in law was coming on such a pleasant day, she was sure to be disappointed now. Despite his thoughts, he still felt soothed a little and felt himself start to relax, but he forced himself to not doze off.

Inigo did not know for how long he had sat on the tree limb, but after awhile, he heard someone calling for him. He sat up stiffly, focusing on that voice anxiously. It was a woman's voice, he was sure of that. But was it his mother or one of his older sisters? He stayed still, biding his time until he saw a flash of blue directly below him and he heard his mother's panicked voice.

“Inigo! Come on, honey!” Aleta called, frantic as she watched the dark clouds slowly cover the sun, but she couldn't find the small child anywhere. She gasped in both shock and fear as Inigo jumped from the tree.

“Inigo! Don't you ever do that!” She cried, images of the little red head breaking an arm from such a fall filled her mind. Her son looked up at her with wide amber eyes. At that childish look and a quick study of his unharmed body, Aleta felt any anger at her child disappear.

“Are you mad at me, mommy?” Inigo asked with a sort of beaten expression on his soft face, expecting to be hit or yelled at for scaring her. She smiled kindly at him in reassurance.

“No, baby, you just scared me. Let's go back inside, ok? Your uncle is eager to meet you and he brought you some treats,” she smoothed his ruffled hair, noticing how he refused to meet her eyes at mention of his uncle. She got one her knees to be at his eye level and placed her hands on his thin shoulders.

“What's wrong, Innie?” She asked. He bit his lip.

“I'm scared,” he admitted in a small voice. Aleta hugged his small body to her.

“Oh, honey, I know you are. Meeting new people can be very scary, but your uncle doesn't seem to be a bad person, so let's try to get along with him, ok?” She said, Inigo noting how desperate her voice was. He understood to have an ally would be a wonderful thing, but he just couldn't trust as easily as her, but for her sake, he would try.

“Come one, the sooner we get this over with, the better you'll feel,” Aleta said. Inigo let her take his hand in hers and lead him back to the house, but he still felt defeated.

 

Inigo had never seen his house as a comfortable or pleasant thing beside the fact that his room was there, the only sanctuary he had since no one but his mother had ever intruded there, but as the house loomed in his vision, his fear returned. He couldn't help thinking that, for all of her good intentions, his mother was pushing against something that was inevitable. She was so desperate to fix things, perhaps she was seeing things that weren't there. Maybe his uncle was really a very cruel person and she was just incapable of seeing that. Though, she did have a point. He and his uncle's meeting was inevitable unless he decided to run away and this prolonged waiting and anxiety was tearing at his insides so strongly that it was actually painful. If it was inevitable, he should just get it over with so all these bad feelings of anticipation and insecurity would go away. Besides, even if his uncle was mean, so was his father and he had lived with him for years, so surely he could last a few hours with a man he had never met.

Only his father's beaten old truck was parked on the dirt driveway in front of the house. He didn't see any other car and couldn't see how his uncle had come here, but he didn't really care. His heart was pounding too hard.

If it had been anyone else but his mother leading him forward, Inigo would have shuffled his feet or attempted some other method of stalling as they neared the front door. He looked around desperately for some way out, but he couldn't see any. He let his mother lead him over crushed gravel and dirt to the towering, white wooden door, which she opened slowly. Furious wind shook the trees. The light from inside of the house shone through the open door and illuminated the drive way as the sky continued to darken and Inigo could feel the starting of rain as mist on his skin.

By the time they had reached the house, the temperature had dropped drastically to the point that goose bumps were rising on Inigo's arm. Entering the house was like entering another world. Someone had lit the fireplace in the living room and the flames bathed the room in a pleasant, golden orange light. The sudden heat did not totally get rid of the chill that Inigo felt, but it was much more pleasant than the biting wind outside. Inigo jumped as he heard the door slam behind them.

Chairs from the kitchen and dining room had been brought into the living room for all of them and Inigo got the sense that they had interrupted a conversation. Maria, Marcos, and Inigo's six siblings were already sitting in front of the fire in mismatched chairs. Maria and Marcos glared at Inigo in accusation, but the child barely noticed them. All of his attention was on one person in the room.

Inigo's first thought on his uncle was that he was startlingly normal in an extraordinary way. The second was a realization that just because two people had something in common didn't make it a comfortable thing.

Draven Santiago looked nothing like Inigo's grandmother; he looked nothing like any of them, really. Maria was short, tan, and bulky. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't scrawny, either. The stern woman had hard, dark brown eyes and curly hair that she always put up in a tight bun. Inigo's amber eyes widened as his uncle stood to greet him. Draven was tall. Compared to his brother, Marocs was small and Inigo couldn't help but feel like an insignificant bug standing in front of the man. Draven, besides his incredibly pale skin tone that nearly glowed in the light of the fire, was not quite as removed from the rest of his family by his looks as Inigo was, but it was still glaringly obvious that there was little he had taken from his family's gene pool. Truthfully, his uncle looked like he had tumbled out of a black and white comic book. His features were less androgynous than completely ignorant of any sort of label or category. His jet black hair hung around his shoulders in uneven, sleek strands. His eyes were just as black as his hair and completely devoid of color. Those eyes were flat, like a shark's, and not even Inigo's reflection or the light from the fire reflected in them, though Inigo was sure that that was some sort of mistake. Still, when those black orbs, bereft of visible pupils, fell on him, Inigo felt his insides go cold. Draven's smile was not hideous, in fact, on his smooth face, it would have been something quite pleasant, yet it was like watching a scarecrow try to smile. It was not anything that the five year old could put to words with his limited vocabulary. He just knew, somehow, that there was something wrong with the man. Every sense he had was screaming at him to damn the storm and damn his family, just run. Another thing was that Inigo could smell the fire, thick and smoky, and could recognize each individual person's scent in the room, but he couldn't smell Draven. There was nothing there. If he was lying on his nose, it would be like there was no one in front of him. Since he had realized that he wasn't quite… human, he had started to rely on his senses more and more, also realizing that they were much more advanced than they should be. Having one of his senses fail him like that was unsettling. Draven's black eyes widened a little when he looked into Inigo's amber eyes. It was the first human reaction Inigo had seen from him, but it passed quickly.

“You must be Inigo,” Draven said, crouching down to Inigo's level. His voice was deep, but held no trace of an accent. Like his eyes, his voice was flat for someone who had been born in Brazil. It was not that he didn't have a Portuguese accent, his voice was just very clear and clipped, though not precisely bland. There was some quality to his voice that was complex and demanded attention.

“I'm Uncle Draven,” Draven said with that same strange smile and reached his large hand with long, slender fingers out to Inigo. Inigo tried to mold himself to his mother's side, clutching at her skirt with one hand and attempted to, unsuccessfully, hide behind her. He didn't want to shake hands with this man. He didn't want anything to do with him or his lifeless eyes or lack of smell or expressionless voice. He wanted to run away, he wanted to show everyone how nervous Draven made him, but he couldn't. He had to hide these feelings and observations, for his parents' sakes. This was his father's older brother and manners told him that he had to respect him, but he still couldn't take that last step and shake his hand. Aleta looked down at her son worriedly. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know that he didn't like Draven. This made her heart tighten, not out of sadness for the rift between the two of them, but out of fear for her own son's fear. Inigo always had a pleasant disposition towards everyone, even those that hurt him. He was always polite to his grandmother and father despite how cruel they were to him. So, the fact that he was so scared of this man terrified Aleta. Was there something there that Inigo was seeing that she, so desperate to make friends with her brother in law, couldn't see? Was there something… bad… there? If there was, she certainly couldn't see it. What she saw was a pleasant man trying to make friends with her son, something the boy desperately needed. Still, there was something about Draven that unnerved her, she just couldn't put her finger on it. Inigo had always been unusually perceptive, even when he was a baby, and she had always trusted his judgment, so why should this be any different? When he had told her not to use a piece of meat in her cooking because it `bad', she had tried to throw it out. Marcus, not understanding her faith in Inigo, had fed it to one of their dogs and the poor beast had gotten so sick, they had had to shoot it. He had made such observations hundreds of times and now he was trying to hide his dislike of this man, but Aleta could see the fear in his eyes. She felt caught in the middle. She wanted to make Inigo shake his hand at the same time that she trusted Inigo's instincts.

Against every instinct screaming at him, Inigo decided that, despite the feelings of fear and slight nausea in his stomach, he would pretend that his uncle was like anyone else. Without any spurring from his mother, he stepped forward, feeling like his insides were quivering and liquid, like Jell-O before it had become totally solid. He extended his hand and, with a slightly cold, or at least distant, smile, Draven took the offered hand. As Draven's large hand enclosed over his, Inigo suddenly understood that this man could easily devour him if he wanted to and that terrified him. How could someone who was so empty, was such a cold, nonentity, be so overwhelming? His uncle's skin was cool and smooth and his tight touch on Inigo's little hand made the child feel like something was choking the breath out of him. Things went dark and he swayed on his feet. Something was wrong. He felt cold and sick as though his life was draining into those flat, black eyes. Was this what dying felt like? He panted for breath, but no air flooded his lungs. He felt like he was falling into the blackness of his uncle's eyes, but instead of succumbing to it all, the falling, the inability to breath, the coldness, he glared back. Warm amber clashed with dead onyx and Inigo was able to clime out of the abyss. Fresh air came into his lungs and he came back into himself. What had just happened? It was all he could do not to gasp as his throat stopped constricting, but he refused to let anyone know what had just happened, especially Draven. Still, the smile on his uncle's face had vanished when Inigo had regained his composure and had been replaced by a stern look. Draven finally released Inigo's hand and Inigo quickly backed away from him, bumping into his mother's leg, but as though he were facing some dangerous animal, he refused to break eye contact with his uncle. He felt shaken and in shock, but refused to back down. Inigo felt a burst of victory when it was Draven that looked away.

Aleta watched all of this in confusion. Something dreadful had just happened, but she couldn't understand what it was. All she had seen was a slightly awkward handshake, but her heart was telling her that something else was going on. Draven's grip was solid but didn't seem to be hurting Inigo. If she had any indication that he was hurting him, she would have grabbed her son away from him and taken the brunt of her anger and maternal protectiveness out on the strange man, regardless of the fact that he was her brother in law and their guest. But, she couldn't see that he was abusing Ingo at all, even though her maternal instincts were screaming at her. She was startled when her son bumped into her leg as though he had forgotten her comforting presence. As a mother, that frightened her. She liked to think that she would always be there for her child, but lately it felt like she kept letting him down. Eve now, she was right behind him, but she felt the aching realization that she couldn't help him. Inigo was alone and Aleta couldn't think of anything scarier. She just couldn't think of how to make things better. She felt like she was failing her son as a mother. Draven, on his part, was unflustered; he only seemed annoyed for some reason.

“I see,” Draven murmured his eyes narrowed and intense as he looked at Inigo. Inigo felt like his insides were trying to crawl out of him, but he didn't try to run away. This was all wrong. Draven was just a man, right? So how could he make him feel this way? This went beyond fear. When he looked at his uncle, he felt like he was looking at death. His inability to breathe, his pounding heart, the ice that filled his entire body, these were not just reactions to a scary person, they were malicious intent. This man had made him feel this way and he would not back down. He would not roll over and show weakness just because, for a brief moment, he had felt the very real fear, the very real possibility of death. He would not give Draven the satisfaction. He had been beaten, verbally abused, and bullied, but he had always had control over his body. He knew, somehow, that his uncle was solely responsible for his feelings and physical reaction and at the same time that he was terrified of him, he hated him, too He had never hated someone before. He had never though himself capable of such a vehement emotion. He wondered about that. Did he truly not hate his family? He hated how they treated him and he hated their reasons for hating him. But did he hate them? Beyond that they were his family, he understood them. They were terrified and disgusted of him and reacted to those feelings. That didn't make it ok, even he realized that, but they had some sort of primal reason for their actions. Inigo could understand animalistic urges; he felt them all of the time, especially since he had started to realize that he was something beyond human. Draven, however, bore no hate in his eyes when he looked at him, only interest and slight annoyance. Inigo couldn't figure out any reason that Draven could have for not liking him and that bothered him. If he couldn't figure out why, he couldn't protect himself.

Draven turned away from Inigo and looked at his brother, who was none the wiser about what had just happened. Inigo felt intense relief that he was both out of his uncle's sight and attention. He quickly scrambled backwards to his mother's side, his comfort zone, and grabbed her hand, squeezing as hard as he could as though he was trying to convince himself that she was real. Despite his mother's lack of self esteem towards her abilities as a mother he saw her as his guardian angel, the one person in his life that loved and cared for him. Aleta winced as she felt Inigo's frantic grip on her hand. She had no idea that the small child could be so strong and she felt the bones in her hands grind together, but she was more startled by his fearful clinging than his sudden show of strength. She glared at the back of Draven's head. She didn't know how, but she was positive that he had done something to Inigo and was the source of his fear. She found that she didn't need the reason, it was fairly easy to hate him, though she wasn't sure why.

Draven placed a hand on his brother's arm in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, though his eyes continued to betray nothing.

“I'm afraid your fears are correct, Marcos,” Draven said. Inigo's father's brown eyes widened in pleasant surprise and his shocked gaze moved from Draven to Inigo. His expression was that of someone who had just found out that their carefully laid out, passionate beliefs had, actually, been cold, hard, fact all along. His eyes held no hatred for once, just annoying triumph and inquisitiveness as he looked for whatever quality his brother had seen in his son. Draven's eyes returned to Inigo's and they clashed once more; Inigo's innocent, yet powerful honey amber and Draven's secretive ebony and once more, for a brief moment, everything else vanished, but Inigo was more mature than he had been only a few minutes ago. While he kept his eyes locked on to Draven's, he wrestled out of the strange hypnosis and, slowly, the world came back. He was still terrified, but he refused to let his fear consume him again. Draven seemed to realize that Inigo had bested him once again and his features tightened in irritation.

“His face is that of a sweet beautiful child,” Draven said, staring at Inigo almost defiantly, “But his eyes are ancient and wholly evil,” Draven sneered, “He isn't human,” the man said with a very odd sort of joy. Inigo felt like growling. He wasn't the only one whose eyes didn't match his face, he thought. Draven's face might have been young and pleasant, but his eyes weren't human, they weren't even animal. He dimly heard both his mother and Maria gasp. It was so strange, everyone in the room seemed fearful or angry, but Draven actually appeared to be happy about his announcement. Inigo didn't care about his father or siblings reactions. They and Maria had always hated him and probably always would, regardless of whether or not their fears were founded. He wondered why they took Draven's observations at such face value. Were they that desperate to hear an outsider voice their beliefs as truth or was it simply because he was a part of the family? It didn't matter, Draven had shown his true colors as an enemy and Inigo didn't care that Draven was not an ally, his fear of him had been greater than his hope long before he had met his uncle. The only one he cared about was his mother. He looked up at her. Her gaze was angry, but it was not directed at him, but at Draven. She had not let go of his hand. Happiness, pure and strong, filled Inigo. She didn't believe it! He felt himself relax. She loved him more than Draven and she believed in him not this strange man. Her faith had remained as it always had. In her eyes, he was her son and he was not evil. That conviction made him feel strong; it made him feel like nothing could hurt him as long as his mother was here to protect him.

Maria grabbed at Draven's arm, drawing his attention from Aleta and Inigo. Aleta let go of Inigo's hand to pet his head, giving him comfort through her soft, loving touch.

“But what should we do?” Maria begged. Inigo felt himself stiffen. Was this really happening? What were they considering doing to him? Burn him at the stake? But, that didn't matter, his mother would protect him. He just felt bad about bringing such trouble to what was supposed to be her home. Beside him, he also felt her tense as they waited for Draven's response, they waited for their cue to either fight or flee. How quickly could they pack? If his mother told him to just run with nothing, he would do so. His mother's safety was much more important to him than his stuffed animals or drawings, though he would still miss them.

Draven smiled at Maria.

“Calm down, mother,” he said, “I think I have a solution that will benefit everyone.”

Inigo felt something solid and terrible settle in his gut. Draven's expression became almost business like as his eyes moved from Inigo to Maria, his features cold and steady as he examined their faces for something… Possibly something that he could exploit, Inigo thought and tried to keep every little trace of fear from his face. He hated the thought that he was being looked at like some possible business deal and he wondered what his uncle did for a living. He didn't know what Draven could be looking for in Maria's face, but he must have found it, because his smile grew slightly as he looked at her.

“I think,” Draven announced, “It would be best if I took this… child… out of your hands.” Inigo heard his mother exhale sharply in shock, but he could only stare at his uncle. He had been expecting him to suggest that they chop off his head or dump him in a well, but what he had actually said was completely unexpected.

Maria blushed in excitement.

“Oh, Draven, I couldn't possibly ask you to take on such a task!” She exclaimed, but her eyes belied her words and shone with sickening hope, “I mean, this child,” her gaze as she looked down at Inigo was almost impersonal, “You said yourself that you know what he is! I couldn't burden you with taking care of him! Surely, there is a better way…”

Draven shook his head.

“Mother, evil cannot be eradicated, only contained. Look at this family; he is destroying you all from the inside out.”

Draven knelt down in front of Inigo, who flinched.

“How about it, Inigo? Would you like to come home with me? I'm sure you feel bad about what you've done here. I'm also sure that you would benefit from a more… stable environment,” Draven said, his voice was light, almost mocking.

Inigo's mouth felt dry and raw and he felt incapable of speech. Go home with his uncle? He would rather be thrown down the well! Just being near the man filled him with fear; he didn't want to think about living with him! Here was another person telling him that it was all his fault, but he knew that! He knew that if he had never been born that his parents would still be sleeping in the same room. He knew that he had destroyed so many things just by existing. But, he also couldn't figure out why. Why couldn't his family just move on? Why did Draven make such a suggestion? If he was so evil, why would he be willing to look after him? Something was wrong, something that he wasn't seeing, just below the surface… What if he did go with Draven? Would everything go back to normal for his mother? If it did, what would happen to him? Still, if it made everyone happy and he wasn't going to be punished or killed, maybe it would `benefit everyone.' But he was still so scared. He hated how Draven made him feel and he hated the things that he had said. He couldn't separate what he wanted from what his family needed. He couldn't deny how happy Draven's suggestion had made them. Even his sibling looked less… weighted with the hope that he would soon be gone. He wanted things to be normal, he wanted them to be a normal family that loved each other. Btu that wasn't possible. His family needed him to leave, but he didn't want to go! He didn't want to stay, either… He really didn't know what he wanted. He should have just ran away before all this had happened.

“Can you handle him?” Marcos asked his voice edgy. Inigo could almost see the thoughts behind his father's brown eyes. At the same time that he now had a way to get rid of Inigo, Draven was still his brother and he probably felt weird of handing over the thing that he hated to another member of the family. If anything happened to Draven, he would be responsible.

Draven gave his younger brother a reassuring look and opened his mouth to tell him not to worry.

“Get out.”

Aleta's voice was small in the room that was silent except for the sharp crackling of the fire. Inigo stared up at her with wide eyes. Despite her slightly subdued voice, he had heard her clearly. He had heard her, after all of his complicated thoughts; take the decision firmly out of his hands. He… had never imagined that she would do so. He hadn't thought that she would be so against the idea that Inigo wouldn't have to make the choice. Draven had directed the question at him, not his mother, and he had never thought that she would get involved. He was glad. He didn't want to make that decision. It was too much…

“Excuse me?” Draven asked her with a small, superior smirk, “I couldn't hear you.” Aleta glared at him. It was almost comical, the much shorter woman glaring at him with rage and no fear. Inigo understood then that Draven had heard his mother perfectly well, but was betting that she would be too intimidated by him to speak out against him. She wasn't.

“I said `Get out'!”

Amusement vanished from Draven's face. Inigo curled his fingers tightly around his mother's to show his gratitude. She squeezed back, lightly.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Aleta snarled. Inigo blinked up at her. He had never heard his mother swear, let alone use that word.

“Aleta!” Marcos snapped. Aleta glared at him.

“And you, I suggest you shut your mouth! You're the one that brought this man here! How dare you even suggest that Inigo be given to this man! He's not a dog you can just hand over when you've tired of him. He's your son, Marcos!” She swung her gaze back to Draven who was looking at her in disgust.

“Get out of this house, now, and never come back!” She screamed. Draven was taken aback for a moment by the severity of her fury, but then a tight smile wormed its way back to his face. He bowed slightly towards Aleta, but Inigo could see how disrespectful the move really was and felt like growling at Draven. He wanted to protect his mother if the two adults came to blows, but what could he do, really? That helplessness didn't mean that he didn't feel like taking a swipe at his uncle, he just didn't see how he would be able to make a difference if his mother really made him angry. His gaze fell to the window that looked out onto their front yard. In the huge tree that his father's truck was parked under, there was a murder of crows taking shelter from the storm that was still blowing furiously. Their ebony feathers ruffled violently in the wind, but their dull eyes were transfixed on the house as though they could look through the window and see the spectacle inside. He shivered. Usually, when he saw animals, it helped to put things into perspective, but seeing the black birds huddled together, staring at him sharply, it just made him feel cold. It reminded him of how he had felt staring into his uncle's own black eyes. He turned away quickly, trying to get that sight out of his mind, but it lingered like a bad smell.

“Alright, I'll go,” Draven said, his eyes moving to Inigo one last time, “I'm sorry that we have to part like this, Inigo. Maybe we'll meet sometime soon, hm?” He reached out his large hand for Inigo to take in parting. Inigo didn't reach for him. Why couldn't this day just end? Aleta gritted her teeth at her brother in law's attempt to shake her son's hand again, but Inigo didn't rise to the bait. Inigo hated that tone in his uncle's voice. It was though he was expecting that they would meet soon. Well, he would try very hard to make sure that wouldn't happen. Draven shook off Inigo's rudeness gracefully.

“I'll show you outside,” Marcos said through gritted teeth. Maria scrambled after her two sons as they went to the hall closet to retrieve Draven's coat. Marcos tried to give him an umbrella as the rain was still coming down heavily, but Draven shook his head.

“I've never had a need for one, Marcos, you know that,” he said with a sly smile. Inigo followed him as he finally left the house with a brief wave to Inigo's other siblings and his gaze stayed on him as he walked down the path to town, the rain pelting him and soaked his black hair to his face and neck. Inigo watched him sharply, waiting for him to turn around and come back or pull some other cruel trick, but he didn't. Draven slowly vanished into the violent storm.

 

(NOTE: For any interested, I have a pic of Tala that I drew. It won adultfanfiction.net's calendar contest second place. I also have a pic of Amaaya from Chapter 2. http://www2.adultfanfiction.net/forum/index.php?showtopic=3704 is the link for both; it's located in adultfanfiction.net's forum for art. Thank you reviewers, I looooove you!!! Please note that chapter 3 is going to get disturbing soon. You have been warned)

 

Inigo fled to his room before the screaming could begin. Sure enough, even as he shut the door behind him and took refuge under his covers he could hear his mother and father's voice rise up through the floor. He put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. The sounds of anger pierced through him. He could hear the rain beating against the roof. Would the storm never stop? Would he awake tomorrow to that terrible, sharp, pounding sound? He wondered if the crows had found some place drier to take shelter in or if they were still there, their beady eyes looking through the window as if they understood what was happening inside.

“You stupid bitch!” His father's voice rose. He heard his mother's voice rise as well, but he couldn't make out the words. If he listened closely enough, it sounded as though they were yelling at him together, in one harsh voice. He curled up into a defensive ball. Wrong, it was all so wrong…

 

“Our last chance and you through him out! We could have been rid of him at last, he wouldn't have hurt him, isn't that what you always wanted?! You treated my brother like some… strange derelict!”

Aleta seemed unconcerned with her husband's anger, in fact, she started to laugh. Marcos and Maria, who had been staying out of the fight, stared at her like she was crazy.

“You stupid bitch! What the hell is so funny?!” Marcos screamed. Aleta smiled angrily at him.

“Keep your voice down,” she snapped as though she were scolding one of her children and that's exactly how she saw him, as a large child that had not gotten his way and was now throwing a temper tantrum.

“Is it so much easier for you to believe a fairy tale, Marcos?” She asked mockingly, her head cocked to the side, studying him. His thick, dark hair was a mess from his running his hands through it, a nervous habit he had when he was mad. There were deep stress lines on his face and his hair was graying a little at the edges. Where was the man that she had fallen in love with? It used to be that, if she squinted, she could see little pieces of him, but now she couldn't see him at all. They had been screaming at each other for the past ten minutes and she was so tired of all of it. She wondered what bothered him the most, that she had ruined a chance to unburden their `problem child', that she had disrespected the man that he had looked up to since he was a child, or that she had undermined him?

“I refuse to have that bastard in this house again,” Aleta said as calmly as she could as anger bubbled underneath her tone, “He is no family of mine and I will not have him around Inigo,” her voice was steady and told anyone that was listening that these were not negotiable terms.

“You say that he wouldn't harm Inigo, but how do you know that?” Aleta asked, her eyes burning into Marcos.

“B-because he said so!” Marcos sputtered with the convictions of absolute faith that Aleta had only seen in children or animals, a blind faith that she knew could not be talked away.

“What does your brother do, Marcos?” She pressed. A perplexed look came over his face as he thought hard about it, but nothing came to him. He looked to his mother for help, but she looked just as confused. Aleta laughed darkly.

“You don't know anything about your brother, do you?” Her gaze became cold and sharp as she looked at her mother in law, “Either of you…” she smiled bitterly, “I guess I'm one up on both of you,” she turned on her heel, putting her back to them and looked over her shoulder at them, “I know for a fact that that piece of shit you call `brother' isn't coming back here, ever,” she marched towards the steps. This conversation is over, her rigid back said.

“Aleta!” Marcos snarled after her, but his wife ignored him as she went up the steps.

 

Aleta had to make a conscious effort not to stomp as she walked up the steps. Her arms shook as she reached Inigo's door and she took a deep breath, trying to reign in her emotions. She wiped the tears from her eyes that she had made sure no one had seen.

`No one is taking my son from me, especially not that two-faced bastard!' She thought, letting that thought become a mantra. No one was taking Inigo from her, no one was going to hurt her baby, not even her, not even unconsciously. She had to do something, it wasn't about her wants or fears anymore. Inigo was in danger. How stupid had she been? She had seen the abuse and had done nothing! She should have left as soon as she had known that she was pregnant. Inigo deserved so much more than this broken family. It had taken Draven making such a terrible suggestion as separating them to make her see that the only way for her child to be safe was to get out of Manaus. But how? She had access to Marcos' money and she was sure that she could find someone that would be sympathetic to her situation. Living in the jungle was preferable to staying here and living in fear that she no longer had the power to protect her own son. She had told Draven to never come back, but did he really have any control? If he decided to come back, there really wasn't anything she could do to stop him. He could come back at anytime to take Inigo away from her. She had to take another deep breath before she could go into Inigo's room. She didn't want him to see her thoughts so naked on her face. Inigo had a strange way of knowing what she was thinking and feeling and she didn't want him to know how distressed she was.

She sighed as she entered the room. All of the lights were off, but she knew that he was in here, probably huddled under the covers, which he often did when he was upset or trying to hide. She flicked on the lamp by the bed and saw that there indeed was a small lump under the covers. She sighed again. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the little upraise of the covers. It hit her then just how small and helpless he was. He could be so brave sometimes that she forgot just how young and vulnerable he was.

“C'mon, honey, I know you're awake,” she said softly, keeping any reproach out of her voice. The covers shifted and large, amber eyes stared back at her. She smiled at him and ran her long fingers through his downy, red hair. She loved him so much, she felt overwhelmed by her feelings. Though he moved the covers off of him, his body was still curled up tightly.

“Are you mad?” He asked in a small voice.

“Yes, honey, but not at you,” she said, finding that she couldn't lie to her little fox.

“Mommy, do you love me?” Inigo's voice became a little bit choked as though he was afraid of her answer. Terrible pain burst in her heart as she saw his fears in his innocent eyes. She gave out a small moan at the thought of her son thinking that she would ever not love him. She swept him up out of the little nest he had made for himself and wrapped her arms around him tightly in desperation, stroking the black stripe the ran down the middle of his hair.

“Oh, baby… baby, yes, of course I love you! I love you so very much!”

Inigo nuzzled against her.

“Even more than Daddy?”

She smiled and rested her cheek against the top of his head.

“Yes, Innie, I love you much, much more than your Dad. I love you more than anything else in the whole world.”

“You won't let… let that scary man take me away, will you?” He asked in a whisper, his voice filled with tears and fear. Her arms tightened around him convulsively.

“Never,” she whispered harshly, “Never, no one will ever take you away.”

They stayed like that for a very long time, Aleta's arms wrapped around Inigo and their bodies pressed against each other, as though just their touch could ward off all of the bad things. Inigo curled his hand around her own larger hand.

“Mommy… can you sleep with me tonight?” Inigo asked. Aleta stared down at him. He looked so shaky and so pale. She looked at his clock. It was only five at night, not even late enough for dinner, but she suddenly felt so tired.

“I'm… I'm scared,” her son finally admitted. She kissed his forehead.

“Of course, love,” she said and she crawled into bed with him, still wearing her best blue dress and stockings.

Inigo curled up against his mother under the covers. He smiled. She was already asleep, he could tell by how her breathing and heart rate changed, just a little. She looked so much younger when she was sleeping, so much less troubled. She had said that she loved him. She was his mother and somewhere deep down inside, he had known that, but it was good to hear it out loud. His heart told him all sorts of things, but he could never deny the things he heard with his ears. She had said that nothing would take him away and he believed her. If his mother said it was true, then it had to be true. He let the sound of his mother's heart beat drown out the sound of the rain on the roof until he was finally able to fall asleep.

 

Draven had visited them on a Saturday morning. Time and days didn't mean much to a farmer's wife as Marcos worked at home and she had stopped going to church. She supposed that she would be seen as a heathen for that, but over the years she had done a little soul searching. At first, she had believed that her faith in God was gone. She had always believed that God was kind and loving, so how could He hurt her son like this? But, she quickly realized that she did still believe in Him. How could she look at Inigo's innocent, smiling face and not believe? However, she did not believe in her husband's god. She could not believe in anyone or anything that would tell people to hurt a child merely on the circumstances of its birth. Marcos had given her a demeaning look when she had announced that she would not be going to church with them anymore. She could imagine what had been going on in his head. He probably thought that whatever evil he perceived to be in Inigo had made her give up her faith in God. Well, he could believe whatever he wanted. She had stopped being concerned about Marcos' thoughts a long time ago. She had given up her job as a midwife shortly after Inigo was born when she had realized that Marcos could not be trusted with the baby. She missed the look of joy on a mother's face when she handed her, her newborn baby for the very first time, especially since she knew that joy first hand very well, but Inigo's safety was much more important to her than her job. So, now the days bled together for her but she would always remember that her brother in law had visited on a Saturday. Monday, she finally dared to go into town. She needed to find someone that might dare to take them across the river and since she could not bare for Inigo to leave her side after what had happened with Draven, she brought him wit her. Inigo had not been in the inner village of Manaus since he had been very, very young and, since when she had brought him Monday, he had looked at everything with wide, interested eyes, he no doubt remembered next to nothing about his last trip. She had not taken him back for two reasons. The first was because their farm was so self-efficient there wasn't much of a reason for her to go shopping. Marcos often went to town to sell and barter and brought the other children with him while Aleta and Inigo stayed at home alone. The second reason was because Manaus was so small. She was sure that it was the same for all small towns; when something unusual happened there, everyone knew about it, whether it was their business or not. So, naturally everyone had been aware of the first time she had brought her little red-headed toddler into town. What she hadn't counted on was so many people having the same attitude as her husband. For the two hours that they had been there, nearly everyone that she had encountered had told her, in excruciating subtleness, that her son was no longer welcome among them. She had heeded their underlining threats, not because she cared what people thought, but because she did not want Inigo to know just how many people hated him. She was glad that Inigo had been too young to remember that first visit. She wished that there had been another alternative this time, but she couldn't find one so she had dragged him along. She still had mixed feeling about that. She knew that every heated glance, every stare, every terrible, hushed whisper that still carried a bit too well to not be intentional had hurt Inigo, yet he had still enjoyed himself. As she spoke to old friends and people she thought one could trust, they flitted from store to store and Inigo took in every detail like a sponge. They had gone back to their home without having talked to any sympathetic person or even seen a friendly face, but instead of reassurances, they returned with an armful of goodies and pretty things and art supplies. Inigo had left the house subdued, but had returned bubbly and irrepressible, as a five year old should act, so Aleta wasn't too disappointed. Inigo had been enthralled with the sugar cubes decorated in intricate patterns with strawberry dye and ate them, humming as he always did when he was enjoying something. She still felt a little bit depressed that she could not find one person in town that was willing to help the. She and Inigo really were alone, but that didn't changer her conviction to leave.

It was in town that Aleta had learned that Draven had come on a Saturday. With the exceptions of the whispers about Inigo, all anyone could talk about was the freak thunder storm that had started Saturday morning and vanished without a trace Sunday morning and how the storm had only been hovering over Manaus, completely stationary, before just dissipating. Aleta remembered Inigo's screaming nightmares that night as the rain pounded against their house, the nightmares he still refused to talk about. She remembered how… better he had seemed when he had awoken to see the sun shining cheerfully in clear blue sky.

That Monday when they had been in town, it had been such a nice day out; Aleta had decided to take the long, back roads back to their house. The road was a bit more unkempt than the main road, but it was nice to be away from home for a little bit. Aleta felt like she was breathing in fresh air for the first time in years. Theirs was not the only farm in Manaus by a long shot. They had been on the road for twenty minutes and they had already passed by five farms. Inigo seemed interested to point out the differences between these and their own. He was especially interested in the ones that only farmed one thing, like the small, old one at the start of the road that only farmed potatoes. She tried to explain to him about specialty farming and how sometimes it was cheaper and more efficient to grow only one thing, but she could tell that he didn't get it. Suddenly, he stopped and she stopped with him, not letting him out of her sight for a second.

“Mommy, what's wrong with that?” Inigo asked. Aleta looked to where he was pointing. The path leading to the farm house was covered in strawberry plants that had been blooming, but now their leaves were brown and bright red fruit had shriveled to almost nothing. Even the grass on the path had decayed. Inigo wrinkled his nose at the terrible smell coming from the plants. Even Aleta, whose nose was not as sensitive, made a face. A few fat, black flies buzzed around the dying vegetation. Inigo swatted one in annoyance as it flew around his head.

“It's just rotting, honey,” she said.

“But why?” He asked with an inquisitiveness that made his mother smile.

“Well it did rain a lot Saturday,” she tried to explain, but she saw that he didn't believe that anymore than she did. Inigo knew about rot. One hot, dry summer, his father's corn and wheat crops had rotted, but that had taken weeks, not days. Inigo remembered how his father had spent all of yesterday morning complaining about how his peanut crops were drying out, though they had been fine Friday.

It was strange, Aleta thought, all of the farms they had passed had shown some level of decay in the plants and flies seemed to linger, yet before yesterday, nothing had been wrong. She hoped that this wasn't a sign of a harsh summer to come. She shook her head. She was taking Inigo away from here so why was she thinking of the result of a bad summer in Manaus? She patted Inigo's head.

“Don't worry, baby, there's nothing wrong, it's just nature's way.”

Inigo didn't look reassured and as they continued, he looked back with a worried look on his face.

 

Tuesday morning, Aleta was beginning to share Inigo's worry. They had spent last night sharing amusing stories from their trip to town and eating the decorated sugar cubes, but the light hearted mood of the night did not follow them to the morning as Marcos burst angrily into the house. Aleta was on edge the second that the door slammed against the wall. However, for once her husband's anger did not seem to be directed at her or Inigo. As he stomped into the kitchen, he didn't even notice them where they sat at the kitchen table, Aleta reading an old beaten novel, and Inigo drawing with the pastels he had gotten in town yesterday. When Aleta first saw him, she gasped despite herself. Marcos was a mess, dozens of welts and punctures, some badly bloody, covered his arms, neck, hands, and face like some terrible skin disease. Aleta willed her eyes back to her book, though she knew that she would not be able to read anymore. That brief feeling of concern for Marcos' state bothered her. Her husband was in obvious pain, but what did she care? He was the enemy and she was glad that he was hurting! Yet there was still some part of her that yearned to run to his side and tend to his wounds.

Maria rushed into the kitchen. She had been in the living room when she had heard her son come in out of the fields through the back door in the kitchen. She screamed as she saw him hovering over the sink, both trying to clean out his bloody wounds and scratching viciously at his arms at the same time, only making the sluggishly bleeding punctures worse. Maria was instantly at his side, grabbing at his hands.

“Don't scratch!” She snapped, a hint of the mother she had been when Marcos had been a child showing.

“Itches like hell,” he growled. Maria wet a sponge and started to clean off the blood.

“What happened?!” Maria demanded.

“Fucking mosquitoes,” Marcos snarled. Inigo looked up at him with eyes that were wide with both fear and curiosity.

“Language,” Aleta snapped, but was ignored.

“Thousands of them,” Marcos continued grumbling, wincing as he mother found a bottle of alcohol and poured a liberal amount on the bites.

“They just descended from the sky, the little shits just freaked out and started latching on…,” suddenly Marcos' eyes grew large.

“The chickens,” he murmured, horrified. Maria grabbed at his shoulders to keep him still.

“No! You'll stay put right here! No one is going outside until we know that it's safe. The children are at school, so I'm sure that everyone will be fine,” Maria tried to reassure him. If what Marcos had said was true, the chickens and any other small animal outside would have been attacked already. The sound of Inigo's chair on the linoleum was harsh as he pulled back from the table and ran into the living room.

“Inigo!” Aleta cried and ran after him, terrified that he was going to try to go outside. Maria and Marcos followed her, curious, and a little bit suspicious as to what was going on. Aleta sighed in relief as she saw that he was still in the living room, struggling with a chair and trying to drag it to the window. She smiled at him and helped him carry the chair, lifting him onto it so he could look outside. All four of them looked out the window and Aleta gasped.

“What is that?!” Maria gasped. In the field, getting bigger and bigger, was what looked like a cross between a dust cloud or a tornado, except that it was black and climbing up, towards the sky in great, terrible spirals. The black thing was massive and looked like something out of a nightmare, spinning around and around from the ground to the bright sky. Aleta, through her fear, mused that if the thing had formed a few feet east, it would have blotted out the sun.

“It's a mosquito column,” Inigo said simply. Marcos stared down at him in equal fear and interest. That Inigo knew exactly what it was, was suspicious, but he still wanted to know what it was and how to get rid of it. The thing was terrible and he didn't want it on his property.

“They form like that when the temperature gets really humid,” Inigo said, “I saw it on TV,” he added almost as an after thought, as though he could hear his father and grandmother's suspicion. Aleta's eye stayed glued to the living spiral. Nothing like this could exist in nature, right? But if Inigo had seen it on one of his animal shows, it had to be normal. She shuddered. Just looking at the perfectly structured, moving mass of thousands of black dots made her sick inside. Inigo had said that they swarmed like that because of humidity, but…

`But it's not humid at all today,' she thought. They had air conditioning and it would have kicked on if it had been.

“How do you kill them?” Marcos asked as he kept his eyes on the mosquito swarm. Aleta raised an unseen eye row at him. She couldn't believe that he was asking his five year old son for advice. She noticed when Inigo gave his father an exasperated look as though he was looking at an immature child who had no common sense. Aleta had to bite her lip to keep form laughing.

“It's not the mosquitoes, it's the weather,” he said even as he realized that might not be true. It hadn't been humid yesterday and didn't seem to be humid today.

“So,” Aleta looked down at the child “the best thing would be to just stay inside and wait until they settle down?”

Inigo nodded enthusiastically, glad that someone was willing to take his advice to heart. Marcos snorted and turned around, not wanting to look at the bugs any longer.

“I got bitten hundreds of times, but I survived,” Marcos said arrogantly. Aleta glared at him.

“I'm not worried about you,” she said sharply, placing a hand on the back of Inigo's head, shuddering at the thought of him stumbling through the back door covered in bloody… holes, “Besides, who knows what diseases those thins could be carrying! For all you know, you could be sick right now!”

Marcos snorted again and walked off to the bathroom to get some bandages for his more severe bites. Inigo looked up at his mother, but she had returned to looking out of the window.

 

The Santiago's weren't the only ones in Manaus that were plagued by strange behavior and a surplus of the insect and arachnid population. Benito Manara had woken that same morning to the screams of his seventeen year old daughter, Josephina. The girl had been washing her hands in the bathroom when a horde of wolf spiders had come out of the sink. The girl had been bitten by the spiders all over her arms and had to be taken to a hospital in the next town, Solpanos, as the wounds started to leak pus and she had suffered from seizures. Paul Sanada's entire corn crop had been devoured by grasshoppers in only twenty-four hours. Most people in Manaus believed that the frantic behavior of these creatures was a warning of an upcoming heat storm, but everyone was also scared as none of them had seen anything like this, but they all had their secret suspicions. That night, the other six Santiago children had returned home, escorted in a truck by one of their teachers. Both the man and several of the children suffered from some mosquito bites, but not as badly as Marcos. Aleta spent the night watching her husband closely as he watched TV and scratched at his wounded arms and neck. The last thing she wanted was for Inigo to get sick. Despite everyone's suspicions, their talk of heat storms became a reality the next day.

 

Aleta looked at the thermostat in annoyance, pushing down the urge to tap it. Outside, the humidity was a tangible, physical thing, making the tall wheat grass droop heavily and waves of heat, like a strange mirage, covered the faraway scenery. She had taken a step outside that morning and had almost choked on it. She immediately had gone back inside, only to discover that their air conditioner was malfunctioning. As each minute passed, the air in the house became more and more unbearable. Yet, they did not dare go outside with the searing sun high in the sky. They couldn't last like this, she thought, they were drinking and eating cold meals nonstop and soon they would run out of ways to keep cool. All of Manaus was dealing with electrical shortages and Aleta considered them lucky that their refrigerator still worked. According to Laisa Bentio, who lived only a little further down the road, her husband thought that the electrical problems and abnormal heat were related, though Aleta had never heard of heat causing power outages before. Laisa had called two hours ago, but now the phone was no longer working.

Marcos, Maria, and the other children had retreated to the slightly cooler basement while Aleta and Inigo had stayed in the living room. Aleta didn't trust them with Inigo in this weather; heat made people do crazy things and she was willing to sacrifice a few degrees to keep him safe. The only good thing about this heat was that it had killed off all of the mosquitoes. Sleep had been impossible for all of them last night, staying awake, listening to the insane buzzing of the circling insects.

Aleta knew that this heat couldn't go on for more than a few days at the rate they were going. No one in town knew how to fix the phones and electricity and no one was brave enough, or stupid enough, to leave their houses and try to go to the next town for help.

Inigo was curled up next to her on the couch, wearing only a pair of Khaki shorts, his long hair plastered to his back, breathing heavily. His little body was having a harder time dealing with heat and he had retreated into sleep. Once in awhile, his eyes would open lethargically, glazed, almost unseeing, but he would quickly close them again. Aleta gnawed on her lower lip. The heat wasn't healthy and she was worried about how Inigo was sleeping all the time. She pressed two fingers against his pale throat. His pulse was thready and rapid. He couldn't possibly be dehydrated, she had made sure of that by making him drink water every hour, but there was something wrong with the deep flush on his face and the dark rings under his eyes.

 

Heat, it was everywhere. He could feel it pressing down on him, cradling his entire body. It was trying to kill him, he could feel it. It hurt just to breathe. All he could do was sleep and hope that when he woke up it would be gone. Suddenly he felt himself being lifted and he cried out. Something warm was wrapped around him and he felt that he was being moved somewhere.

“It's ok, Innie, we're just going t go take a bath now, alright?”

Inigo relaxed a little at the sound of his mother's voice. But, there was something wrong. Her voice was tight and panicked. He was scaring her again. A bath? No he just wanted to sleep, he was so tired. He felt himself being lowered on cold tile and heard the relaxing sound of running water. It was so soothing, the burning cold on his bare skin, the flowing water… his mouth was so dry and he wanted to drink some of it. He felt himself going under again, his heart pounding in his ears.

He faded in and out for several minutes. He heard his mother screaming his name and he could hear his own heart beat. Suddenly, he was fully awake and he gasped as he felt himself being submersed in icy water. His body shuddered twice, then settled and he felt his muscles relax in the liquid coolness. It felt so good… he felt the sickly clutches of heat finally let go of him. He opened his eyes, but closed them again quickly as a bright light hurt him. He let the feeling of the cold water soothe him and he waited for his heart beat to stop pounding. When he could no longer hear it, he opened his eyes again and saw that his mother was looking at him with tears in her eyes. He was in the upstairs bathroom sitting in the tub with his shorts still on, with cold water up to his chin.

“Feels better,” he said. That seemed to be the breaking point and Aleta sobbed in relief.

“Don't you ever scare me like that again baby,” she said, but there was no heat in it.

“How long can I stay in here?” He asked, loving how the water felt surrounding him. He felt weightless. Aleta smiled at him.

“You can stay in there for as long as you want, honey,” she said. She felt bad that she hadn't done this before for him, but she had been afraid of using up the water. If this heat wave continued for a few more days, they were going to run out of bottled water and would have to rely on the well and bath water. But, she hadn't counted on Inigo getting heat stroke and he needed the water more. Saving the water had been the last thing on her mind when Inigo had stopped responding to her voice and his heart had started skipping beats. Inigo smiled at her when she told him he could stay in the tub. He felt guilty about scaring her. Aleta laughed as Inigo submerged himself under the water and he stayed down there for a few minutes like a little river otter. When he finally popped his head back up out of the water, his bangs stuck cutely to his face and he joined in with her gleeful laughter.

 

Inigo had stayed in the tub for several hours, even after the water had stopped being cool. The water, though warm, was still not as hot as the air and it was comfortable to just sit and soak. The night came and the heat was still an oppressive thing and Aleta knew that sleep would not come easy. Still, she found herself nodding off in the guest room, her room since she and Marcos had stopped sleeping together.

She was awoken early the next morning on edge and confused. She blinked at the clock and was surprised to find that it was only 3:02 in the morning. She couldn't figure out what had woken her up so early, but it also came to her that she wouldn't be able to see the time unless the power was back on. She also realized that it was much cooler in the room and she could hear the humming of the air conditioner. She sighed in relief. Maybe they would make it through the heat wave after all. Then she heard what had woken her up; a loud buzzing noise. Whatever the sound was, it was unrelenting and blaring and it was coming form Inigo's room. In a moment of terror, a thought came to her: what if the mosquitoes were back and they had found a way into the house? Still half asleep, she ran into her son's room, his door still open to keep the room from getting too hot. Inigo was crouched on the floor and, with a huge bruise on his let knee, it was obvious that he had fallen off of his bed. He was staring in horror at the radio on his bedside table that was turned on, its volume on max. Little by little, Aleta's fuzzed mind cleared and she was able to piece things together. Inigo finally seemed to notice her and looked at her with side eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the room.

“A man…,” he choked out, “I heard a man!” He cried. Aleta scooped him up and placed him on the bed and quickly switched off the radio.

“It's alright, it's just the radio, baby.”

Inigo eyed the radio with fear.

“But I heard someone talking… and it wasn't on before! Things were screaming!” He said frantically Aleta hugged him tightly, careful of his bruised leg.

“No, honey, the power's just come back on. Sometimes, when we lose power, things reset. Your radio just came on very loudly when you were asleep and it scared you, it was just static,” she assured him. She looked at how close the clock radio was to Inigo's bed and wasn't surprised that the noise had scared him enough to fall out of bed. They were lucky that he hadn't hit his head on the table. Aleta's words managed to soothe most of his fears, but he still ended up in her bed with her, her own clock radio unplugged and in the hall closet for the night.

 

By the time that everyone had woken up the next morning, the heat, like the thunder storm on Saturday, had completely dissipated and all electrical appliances were working again. People in town were nervous about the strange weather problems, but that morning was calm and typical of a spring day. School reopened, though parents were cautious and anxious about sending their kids out of their houses. Marcos had debated wit himself about letting his kids go to school, but realized that it was for the best. As people came out of their homes that morning to escort their children or go to work, they surveyed their property as though it had been a tornado that had passed though instead of a heat storm. Even Marcos skipped breakfast so he could see the damage that the heat had done. To his surprise, while the heat had evaporated a lot of water in their well and made the ground dry like sand, it was not the heat that had killed all of their crops. From the peanuts to the tall stalks of corn, everything was rotted. On some of the ears of corn were even a strange black-green mold he had never seen before. He swore loudly trying to keep from screaming in frustration. An entire year's crop, gone, and he couldn't figure out why. He shook his head angrily and moved across the filed towards the cattle pens.

In the chicken coop, he found three dead chickens, their blood nearly all gone thanks to the mosquitoes and their bodies riddled with tell tale puncture wounds. The other chickens seemed ill and had laid no eggs since he had last checked on them, Monday. He didn't know if this was because of a sickness, the bugs, or the heat. He gave them new food and checked on the sheep.

The sheep had faired only slightly better than the chickens. There were only two dead sheep and the rest didn't seem too bad off, though when he fed them, they didn't attack the feed as they usually did and while there were a few sheep near one of the dead sheep, they seemed to be avoiding the second. The first sheep was a tiny thing and it was obvious that the heat had been too much for it. He shook his head. It was such a waste. He dragged the carcass out of the fenced area, and put it into the wheel barrow with the chickens. He wondered if Aleta could use the meat, then made his way back to the second sheep.

 

Balanced on a kitchen chair, Inigo peered out the kitchen window excitedly. The weather was mild today and he was feeling much better. It had felt like it had been forever since he had been outside instead of just two days. He wanted to feel the grass under his bare feet and take a breath of fresh air. He had finished his breakfast, made his bed, brushed his teeth, and had even washed the dishes; surely his mother would let him go outside.

Aleta watched Inigo with a happy smile. It really was a brand new day. The bugs had died and the heat was gone, yet she couldn't help but be worried. It had been a very close thing with the heat stroke, though Inigo was obviously better this morning. But, she felt bad about keeping the five year old from enjoying his day because of her fears. There wasn't anything out there to hurt him anymore, she told herself, if I think of just the possibilities of something bad happen, I might as well wrap him up in cotton the rest of his life.

“Go on, sweetie,” she said with a smile.

“Really?!” Inigo asked, almost bouncing on the chair.

“Yes, but watch out for your father, ok?”

Inigo nodded. Aleta chuckled as the small boy almost flew out the door. The door slammed closed and with that last sharp sound, the house was quiet. Maria was in the basement cleaning and Aleta would soon head upstairs to do the same. She remembered how she had worried about sending Inigo off to school in a couple years. She remembered how she had been scared about letting him go somewhere where she couldn't protect him. She also remembered her own selfish fear of loneliness. But, that didn't matter anymore. They would find someplace where no one knew who they were and it would be safe for him to go to school. Yes, she thought, she would still be afraid of her loneliness, but she was sure that all mothers felt that way. Inigo had been in her life for so long, always by her side, that it was hard to imagine him leaving her for most of the day.

Her first task, she realized, was going to be taking her clock out of the hall closet and resetting it. She would have to do so to all of the clocks, which could be a chore since some of the clocks were different than the others. All of the radio clocks were the same make and model but the ones in the kitchen were much different. As she held the white, plastic clock in her hands, a strange thought came to her. All of the clocks in the house were flashing 12:00 in an annoying spasmodic visual beat, as they always did when the power went out. She had told Inigo that things reset when the power went off and on and that was true, even Inigo's clock had been flashing 12:00 last night, but his clock was the only one whose radio had, not only been turned on, but it's volume had been all the way up. What made that even stranger was that the volume was a tuner dial. Could he have been awoken when it turned on and brushed the dial all the way up without remembering? Then there was her own clock. Hers and Inigo's were exactly the same, yet while his had flashed 12:00, hers had given her the correct time. Had she just been seeing things in her half asleep state? She gripped the clock tightly and walked purposively to her bedroom, hastily plugging the clock back into its spot. The red display flashed 12:00 over and over and the radio stayed silent.

“How odd,” she murmured. She quickly set the clock to the appropriate time.

“There were things screaming.”

“I heard a man.”

She marched out of her room and into Inigo's. She saw with pride that Inigo had made his bed and sat on it, staring at the innocent looking clock. She didn't think many people had five year olds that would make their beds without being asked. Of course, he hadn't done a very good job of it, but he had clearly tried. Taking a deep breath, she turned on the radio and turned up the volume as much as she dared. She sat there and listened to the static for several minutes before she turned the radio down and shut it off with a slightly shaky hand.

“What am I doing?” She asked the empty room.

She went from room to room, resetting clocks to the correct 7:47 and straightening anything that was out of place, then made her way downstairs . In the kitchen, she found with surprise that the oven light was on when it had not been before and the oven's clock read, unblinking, 2:10 and the microwave's display said 1:01. She shook her head. The answer was obvious now. There was something wrong with their power though she couldn't figure out how any electrical problem could made the clock set themselves to random times. She made a note to get an electrician up there as she turned off the oven light and resumed getting the clocks.

 

It was beautiful out and there was no sign of the things that had happened in the last few days. There was not so much as a fly as Inigo walked through the field past the corn stalks. However, Inigo was disappointed that there were no butterflies, either. The air was light and there was a gentle breeze. Even the sky looked good with small, fluffy white clouds. Inigo didn't think that it would rain, but after Saturday, he felt he could not longer predict anything. Suddenly, he saw a bright flash of color through the tall grass.

Whatever it was, it was orange and fast and staying low in the grass. Inigo crouched low and stayed still. He felt something feral inside of him, some curiosity that made him sniff at the wind and narrow his eyes, following the orange streak as it moved. Whatever it was, it was scared and hungry, never a good combination for an animal. Inigo was shocked to realize that he was stalking it and that he was doing a good job of it. It was like instinct, he just knew what to do to keep the animal from detecting his presence. Along with this knowledge, was the knowledge of how to kill the animal efficiently, yet even subconsciously, he didn't seem to look at that for very long. It was fun trailing the orange thing. This was hunting, not stalking, he realized, like a cat following a mouse without any desire to eat it. It would be even more fun if he could turn into a wolf. Then, he could chase the creature through the fields and into the woods. Maybe it would even play with him… Inigo stood from his crouch. What was he doing? He should go find his father and tell him that they had a predator on their property, not thinking about playing tag with it. And why was he thinking about turning into a wolf again when he had decided long ago that he would never do that? He shook his head. He wouldn't tell his father about the animal because he didn't want him to shoot it, but he wouldn't seek it out either. He had decided to be normal and normal boys didn't play with jaguars.

 

Marcos wondered why there were no maggots on either of the sheep's corpses. There were no flies either, though they had been out here for at least a few hours. Maybe they had died with the mosquitoes; that seemed the most likely reason. There was also the question of where the bodies of the insects had gone. With the size of the mosquito cloud, he would have thought that the ground would be covered with them, but nothing. The idea that frogs had shown up and eaten all of them seemed preposterous to him. He shook his head. He was no scientist, he was a farmer. The only thing he had to concern himself with was clearing away the dead animals and bringing his farm back to life after the previous disasters. Still, it was odd that all those things had happened and considering what he had helped brought into this world… Marcos started to check the sheep for ways it could have died, his thoughts whirling in his head. The rain had happened the day that Draven had come and Inigo had not wanted to meet him, but the day after Draven had left, the rain had stopped. Inigo had known all about the mosquito column and had even told Marcos not to kill the bugs. He couldn't see the reason for the heat or the rot, but he was sure the monster was behind it. Maybe it was just him having some sort of supernatural temper tantrum because Marcos had tried to sell him off to his brother. If it was Inigo doing this, there was only one thing he could do and if it wasn't him, he should probably do it anyway, just to be safe.

This second sheep had not died of heat stroke. The body was shrunken slightly, like it had caved in on itself in the midsection. However, beyond that, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. The only other thing was a red line running down the middle of it's underbelly like a zipper. He grabbed the dead sheep's front leg, he needed to get a better look at that line, it would give him a clue about what had killed the sheep, he was sure of it. As he lifted the leg up, the sheep's belly slit open like a grotesque venus fly trap and a thick stream of hot, sticky blood splattered on Marcos' face.

“What the fuck?!” He screamed, letting go of the leg and stumbled backwards. In disgust, he swiped the blood off with his hand and it hit the dirt heavily. The sheep's leg flopped down again, but the stomach did not close again, it remained open, showing Marcos its insides, red and nasty. Marcos breathed harshly, trying to get a hold of his rapidly beating heart. When he finally calmed down, he took a closer look at the sheep's insides, though he still remained several feet away from it. The other sheep watched this with large, innocent eyes. The wound was terrible. It was so huge it looked like the sheep had almost been slit in half. When Marcos managed to look into it, he saw that all of the sheep's organs were missing and that all he could really see was messed up inner tissues that were stringy like the insides of a pumpkin and the sheep's ribs. The gaping cavern that was the sheep's body looked like something had been eating at it; no, more like it had been dissolved. Marcos let out a shuddering breath. Nothing on earth could do that to an animal, he was sure of it. He one thing, there was no way he was touching it again until someone told him what the fuck was going on!

Marcos turned away from the carcass quickly. He couldn't stand to look at that mess anymore. He walked over to the fence and leaned against it heavily. Just what the fuck was happening in this town?! But, he already knew the answer, he had all along. He should have killed the boy the second he had known that his wife was pregnant, but for all of her disobedience and doting on the child, he loved her. He didn't love her as he had before, but some love still remained. That was the only reason why he had let Inigo live, because of Aleta. But no more, he had to die. Even if Aleta cried, he had to do it.

Inigo walked along the perimeter of the fence where the cattle were kept. He could smell them thickly in the air; he could smell their fear along with a sickening odor not unlike that of the rotting plants, but much stronger. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. That smell was worse than the fish guts his grandmother liked to cook or their garbage when his father forgot to take it to the dump in town. He continued to walk, tying to keep the smell from ruining his enjoyment of the field. However, when he got a to a small cluster of trees that were a few feet from the fence and near the tall wheat grass that was slowly rotting, he realized that he was walking towards the smell instead of away from it. His father was sitting on the fence near the trees, staring out into nothing, but he didn't seem to be absorbed in his thoughts, he was just staring. Inigo froze, not wanting to get his father's attention and wondered if he could go back to the house, without being noticed. Then, it was too late, his father's head turned to look at him, his blank stare turning to one of deep hatred and fury. There was a streak of dried blood across his face that made him look thoroughly insane.

“You…,” Marcos said through teeth that were clenched so tightly Inigo was amazed that they hadn't cracked. Inigo's eyes moved from his father's face to a point behind him and widened.

“Dad, look out!” Inigo cried. Marcos twisted to look behind him. A huge bull was charging at him, its steps chaotic and blood dripping from its nostrils.

“Shit!” Marcos snapped as he fell off the fence and rolled to the side into the grass. The bull broke through the fence, its horns splintering the wood and it ran head first into one of the trees. It reared back and hit the tree again and again and again. Then, the beast took a step back and shook its head spraying blood like raindrops, as though it were confused as to why it was in pain. Then its head turned and its red rimmed eyes fell on Inigo. Inigo stood completely still, afraid to move. The bull let out a loud, pained snort and reared to charge again.

A large streak of range leapt out of the grass and a huge jaguar wrapped its front paws onto the bull's flank, digging its claws into fur and flesh.

Marcos stared at this with wide eyes. This was crazy… a jaguar on his farm… He had brought a shot gun with him like always. It was leaning against the wheel barrow which was only a few feet away on the other side of the fence. If he made a move for it now while the cat was preoccupied with its meal, he could make it.

The bull screamed wildly as it was pulled down by the jaguar's strength. It writhed on the ground for a few seconds before stilling, blood pooling from its muzzle. Inigo stared at in amazement. The cat hadn't killed it… it had already been dying. Could cattle get rabies?

Marcos kept one eye on the jungle cat as he finally reached his gun. The jaguar paced around the dead bull, then reached its neck. The cat opened its mouth, giving both Inigo and Marcos a good view of its impressive teeth.

“No, don't eat that!” Inigo suddenly yelled. The jaguar's mouth snapped shut and it looked at Inigo, its ears perked, giving Inigo its full attention. Like a huge house cat, it sat, its long tail swishing on the ground as it looked at Inigo with great interest.

`That thing is listening to him! It's actually listening!' Marcos thought in surprise.

“If you eat that, you'll get sick,” Inigo told the cat. The jaguar cocked its head to the side, then took a step away from the bull. Inigo nodded, glad that the animal understood. Suddenly, Inigo heard a sharp sound and looked to see his father standing on the other side of the fence as though he though it would protect him and aiming his shotgun at the cat.

“Run!” Inigo screamed at it, “run back into the jungle and never come back!”

The jaguar turned quickly and darted back into the grass that it had jumped out of and disappeared. A shot rang out, but Inigo knew that it was wild and that it hadn't hit anything.

“You little shit,” Marcos snarled and leapt over the fence. Before Inigo had the chance to run, Marcos grabbed his arm in a grip so tightly he could feel the boy's bone. He marched towards the house, dragging Inigo behind him.

 

Aleta was folding laundry when she heard the shot. Her head shot up and her brown eyes widened in alarm. She abandoned the laundry in the drier and ran towards the kitchen. Why had she let Inigo outside by himself when she knew that Marcos was out there? She was so stupid! But Inigo had wanted to go outside so badly and she had a hard time denying him the few things that he asked for. The screen door in the kitchen slammed open and Marcos stormed in. Aleta's pounding heart did a strange lurch of relief when she saw that Inigo was with him, minus any bullet holes. In fact, it was Marcos that had blood on him, not Inigo, though Aleta was sure that the blood on his face was not his.

“Mommy!” Inigo chirped, relieved to see her. She would make sure his dad wouldn't hurt him. Almost unconsciously, Aleta grabbed a knife from the drawer behind her and kept it hidden at her back. Inigo stumbled as his father nearly hurled him across the room with a fierce shove. He scrambled to his mother, his shield, his protector, and gripped at her faded blue and yellow skirt. Aleta took one long look at the dark, finger shaped bruises on his pale, thin arm that were already turning from red to blue black and she felt a terrible rage fill her. Her grip on the knife handle became as tight as Inigo's on her dress.

“Do you know what that… that thing did?!” Marcos yelled. Aleta appeared to ignore him and looked down at Inigo, whose eyes were wide and his little body was shaking in fear at his father's anger.

“Go to your room, honey,” she said.

“Mom?” Inigo's voice was high and Aleta realized that she had only ever seen him this scared when Draven had visited. She wondered if he was worried about what his father would do to him or to her.

“It'll be ok,” she said, trying to soothe down his badly mussed hair. She patted his head and watched as he took off for the refuge of his room. She turned her attention back to her husband who seemed to be getting madder by the minute.

“What is wrong with you?!” she hissed.

“After everything that's happened, you still doubt it?!” Marcos snarled in exasperation, “the heat, the rot, the mosquitoes, those things aren't normal! That boy isn't human!”

“So you think that Inigo did it?!”

“Our cattle are dying, Aleta! They're being eaten from the inside out! Nothing on this planet can do something like that! He didn't want Draven here, and the second he shows up, it starts to rain! He knew about the mosquito column and just now, I almost got fucking gored!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She demanded. So, Marcus told her all about the chickens, the sheep, the bull, and the jaguar. When he was done talking, Aleta burst out laughing. Marcos grit his teeth. How dare she laugh at him?!

“Oh, Marcos,” she said, “I honestly don't know anymore if you're that superstitious or just stupid.” Marcos growled at her, but she refused to let him speak before she had said her piece.

“If he is as powerful as you seem to think, what would be the point of the rain?” For the first time since Inigo had been born, she saw doubt enter Marcos' eyes and she pressed forward.

“Why not strike down your brother with a thunderbolt or send a jaguar after him?” She said mockingly, “rot and disease happen all the time. Why would Inigo make it hot enough that he would get heat stroke?! Of course he would know about mosquito columns! All he watches on TV are nature programs! I'd be more suspicious if he didn't know about it. I could give you several reasons for why that bull attacked you, are you going to accuse me of witchcraft, next? Instead of looking for way to bully your son, you should be thanking him for saving your life!”

“How can you say that?!” Marcos screamed at her, “He is the devil! He talked to that beast and it understood what he was saying! HE is causing all of these things to happen! We have to take responsibility for what we've done, Aleta! We have to kill him, then all of this will go away! We have to-“

Aleta slashed at Marcos' face.

“Shut up, you bastard,” Aleta said coldly, the now bloody knife dangling without shame from her fingers. Marcos blinked at her in shock, blood dripping down his face, mingling with the dried sheep's blood. The cut was shallow, little more than a paper cut and was not life threatening, but it would scar and Aleta had clearly made her point. Marcos put a hand to his cheek and blood started to drip through his fingers. Aleta placed the knife on the counter, but Marcos was still too shocked to even consider attacking her.

“Do what you want,” she said, “but I will kill you before you hurt Inigo,” she turned and made a bee line for the steps. These fights of theirs had become so commonplace, only the thought of Inigo being hurt bothered her. The action of slicing open her husband's cheek didn't disturb her like it would have before, but any affection she had once had for him had died the second he had let their other children abuse Inigo. The incident with Draven had just woken her up to that truth. It had just been one more nail on the coffin of their marriage.

“Aleta!” Marcos called after her and she stopped.

“I need to replace the chicken and cattle and get a veterinarian up here. We also need more bottled water,” Marcos said weakly.

“Your mother can go get the water and you can get more animals. I'll go into town and find a vet to come up here,” Aleta said, her back still to her husband.

 

Inigo sat on his bed, swinging his legs, wishing not for the first time that his room had a window. He had the sudden urge to be surrounded by natural light. He glared at his clock. He still remembered last night, though that seemed so far away now. He remembered the cold, terrible voice that had come out of the radio. He remembered how the voice had said something to him, but he couldn't understand it. He had only remembered how horrible the voice had made him feel. He heard someone come up the stairs and from the sound of the footsteps; he knew that it was his mother. His bedroom door opened and he realized that he didn't have the courage to look up at her.

Aleta sat next to him on the bed and neither spoke. Once again, she was hit with a strong sense of hopelessness. She still couldn't see how to make things right by her son. She hated to admit it, but Marcos had said some things that had disturbed her. She would never believe that Inigo was responsible for the recent disasters, but her mind kept circling back to the incident with the jaguar. Inigo had told it not to eat the bull, and it hadn't. He had told it to leave, and it had. Had the animal really understood? What if… what if Marcos wasn't as insane as she had thought?

“You believe him, don't you?” Inigo's voice quivered with unshed tears and his soft, amber eyes stared at her. Aleta jerked and almost stumbled off the bed. What had she been thinking?! How could she have thought those things of her innocent child?! She felt like clawing her own eyes out in self-punishment.

“Oh, no!” She cried and hugged Inigo tightly, “not at all!”

“I didn't do anything wrong!” Inigo sobbed against her, “I just thought that if I yelled at it, it would be startled and not eat the cow! And dad tried to shoot it and the gun made that noise and it ran off!” Inigo's words poured out one after another, as frantic as his grip on her dress.

“I believe you, I believe you,” she chanted, clutching him just as tightly. Inigo's version made much more sense to her than Marcos' and guilt ate at her. Inigo stared up at her and stuck his hand out.

“Pink swear! Pink swear that you believe me!” He demanded. She smiled and curled her pinky around his.

“I pinky promise, I will always believe you.”

Inigo snuggled against her again.

“Honey,” she said, laying her head against the top of his, “your daddy and grandma are leaving the house soon and I'll be going into town. I want you to stay here, ok?”

Inigo stared up at her with wide eyes.

“No one else will be here, so you'll have the house to yourself, won't that be nice?”

Inigo's lip started to tremble and tears finally broke and streamed down his face.

“No, I want to go with you!”

Aleta sighed.

“I don't think that that's a good idea, hon'.”

A heartbreaking expression came over his face.

“You hate me…” he said with an unsteady voice. Aleta smiled sadly at him.

`So easily wounded,' she thought and hugged him.

“If you want to come with me, you can. I don't hate you baby, I could never hate you.”

Inigo snuggled against her.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Inigo seemed to take her promise to heart and they simply clung to each other. They listened as Maria and Marcos talked in hushed voices in the kitchen. Suddenly, Inigo's radio turned on and static screamed at them like something alive. With a cry, Aleta grabbed the clock's power cord and yanked it from the wall. The radio fell silent, but its presence was still threatening for some reason. Aleta and Inigo looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Let's… not plug that in for awhile, shall we?” Aleta said with a shaky little laugh. Inigo nodded enthusiastically.

“I hate that thing,” he said in a whisper.

“Oh, it's just the power, honey, that's all,” Aleta said, but she still felt fear when she looked at the now silent clock.

Aleta was glad that Inigo had taken the decision to take him with her out of her hands. She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone, especially after what Marcos had said. She didn't trust that when she had left, he wouldn't come back. Still, he had seemed eager to get away from Inigo. She didn't like the idea of bringing him into town with her, either. What if the people in town thought that Inigo was responsible for their recent hardships as well? There was absolutely no medium. But, at least if she brought him with her, she could keep an eye on him.

She heard Maria go out the back door, or at least, it had to be Maria. There was a spring past the fields that everyone used for bottled water. It was cheaper than buying the bottled water that the cities put out and just as clean. They both heard Marcos leave the house, but Aleta would not be satisfied until she heard his truck start.

 

Marcos sat in the car, staring at the keys in the ignition but not really seeing them. Instead, he was thinking hard. He had washed the blood off of his face and bandaged his cheek, but he still felt dirty. What was wrong with him? Why had he taken Inigo back to the house? Why hadn't he killed him when he had had the chance? Because, Marcos realized, deep down in his heart, he had still believed that he could prove to his wife that the boy was evil, but now he could see that the whole town could be destroyed and she would still be blind. If this plague was to be stopped, those that had created the sin had to destroy it and if Aleta wasn't going to be responsible, then he would.

 

Aleta breathed a soft sigh of relief when she heard Marcos' truck starting, then driving down their driveway. She smiled down at her son.

“Now we can go.”

He beamed at her, clearly eager to get away from the house.

Inigo slipped on his sneakers, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on trying them. He had told his mother the truth about the jaguar. He didn't see what the big deal was, the cat hadn't hurt anyone. But, then again, he hadn't hurt anyone, either, but his dad had talked about killing him. Inigo felt panic rise in him for a brief moment, but he fought it back sown. His mother wouldn't let his father do that, so he didn't have anything to worry about.

He thought about it, though. Was it possible that all of the bad things that were happening were his fault? The thing with the jaguar had been strange. It was true that it had followed all of his commands and he hadn't been afraid of the big cat like his father had been, but he couldn't remember ever being scared of wild animals before and it wasn't like he and the jaguar had talked. He hadn't heard the kitty's thoughts in his head and wasn't that how it worked? He had seen it on cartoon's before, when a character could talk to animals, they could hear the talking in their head. But, that hadn't happened. He knew that the jaguar had been hungry and curious about him, but anyone could see that, right? And the TV said that animals wouldn't attack you unless you hit them or something, so he didn't think there was anything strange about it not trying to hurt him. And he didn't remember doing any of that other stuff, so he couldn't have done it. He felt bad about making his mother take him to town. He wondered if she wanted some time to herself, he knew that adults were like that sometimes, but he didn't want to stay here, especially by himself. Electric problems or not, the house scared him, but most of all, he wanted to be with his mother. There was one part of him deep down that felt that being with her was important, but he really just wanted to be with her because he liked it.

Aleta took Inigo's hand as he finished tying his shoes and they made their way to town. The rot that they had seen Monday on the long stretch of road to town had only gotten worse. All of the vegetation, even the grass and leaves, had turned black and brittle and though it was warm, there were no insects to be seen, not even ants or butterflies. As they passed by the farms, Aleta couldn't see any animals in the fenced off pens or chicken coops and wondered if others were having problems like they were with their animals. Inigo, however, didn't seem concerned with any of this, happy to be taking in some fresh air and became a bundle of energy as he pointed out everything that he could see from brightly colored birds to the occasional dog that would bark at them from the houses.

Manaus was busy this Thursday morning and Aleta tightened her hand on Inigo's to make sure he didn't wonder off. She let him buy some cherry ice to munch on as she moved through the market place. She had never tried to find a doctor before and wasn't sure if she should just ask someone for help. She recognized a woman who was looking through a cart of freshly baked bread.

“Marleta!” She called, grabbing the woman's arm. Marleta looked at her in surprise, her dark brown eyes drifting down to Inigo, who was looking at the unfamiliar woman with interest. Marleta glared at the boy and shook off Aleta's grip, walking away without a word. Inigo looked up at his mother in confusion.

“Who was that, mommy?”

Aleta sighed.

“No one, honey,” she said, but he could hear her sadness. As she looked for someone who might actually give her some answers, she heard the gossip that people chatted about, though she tried to get away from it so Inigo wouldn't hear. She heard conversations about the heat and rot and insects every where they walked. She hated several discussions about how, after the recent cases of cattle disease that had hit every farm in Manaus, several families were considering leaving and after the insect attacks and heat wave, a few had already left. However, one conversation made her freeze.

“It'll be impossible to get anywhere for a few days,” she heard someone say.

“I heard about that. But… it's impossible, isn't it? How can the river flood when it had been so hot? It's not the rainy season yet and even with the Saturday's rain, a river the size of the Amazon wouldn't be able to flood like that, it's impossible!”

“Impossible, yes, but that doesn't mean that there isn't a reason for it, if you get my meaning?”

“Even impossible things have a solution…”

“Well, if it isn't taken care of soon, we'll all be out on the street.”

“Who cares about poverty? Better to be poor than dead. That'll be next just you watch.”

Aleta pressed Inigo against her, shielding him with her body. This was bad, very, very bad. She had entertained the possibility that people in town would blame Inigo for all that was happening but the reality was much more terrible. They had to get out of here, now. Why had she taken Inigo with her? His happiness would be of little importance if he was lynched by these… people.

“It's like in the Good Book,” Aleta heard one of the men say, “The Ten Plagues! The first borns'll be dead before this is over.”

“But the heat wasn't in the Bible!”

Aleta blinked in confusion, then paled as she realized that the last comment had been from her own son. The four men that had been talking heatedly looked at him in fear.

“And the river's supposed to turn to blood, not over flow,” the red headed child said logically, “and we haven't had frogs, or boils, or lice, or darkness, and fire hasn't fallen from the sky,” Inigo counted off the remaining `plagues' on his fingers, “so I think the first borns are safe,” he said with a smile. Aleta grabbed him and dragged him away from the men as quickly as she could. Once the group was out of sight, she leaned down and looked him in the eye.

“Honey, do me a favor and don't talk to any of these people, ok?”

“Ok,” he said solemnly. Suddenly, he brightened and looked around her.

“It's mister Roberts…!” He said excitedly.

“Who?” Aleta had asked in confusion…

“Mister Roberts! He's a doctor,” Inigo said seriously and Aleta's interest piqued, but she didn't turn around. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't see how Inigo knew about him.

“Daddy and Grandma don't like him,” Inigo said.

`Ah,' Aleta thought, `that explains it.' Though it didn't explain how Inigo knew that the man he had seen was Dr. Roberts when he had never met him.

“Dad says he's a fucking pri-,” Aleta put her hand over his mouth, her eyes wide in shock at the words coming out of her son's mouth. She'd talk to Marcos about using that sort of language in front of an impressionable five year old if she thought it would do any good , but it wouldn't. She could tell by Inigo's tone that he had no idea what he had really said.

“Baby, don't say that word.”

“What?” Inigo cocked his head to the side, “'fucking' or `prick'?” He asked, genuinely confused about which word was wrong.

“B-both!” She choked.

“Ok!” Inigo said with a bright smile. Aleta sighed.

“Alright, how do you know that this man you're looking at is Dr. Roberts?”

“'Cause he's American,” Inigo said in an obvious tone that made her turn round. Sure enough, in the throng of dark haired people, Dr. Roberts' tall, blonde head was even more glaring than Inigo's red hair. His complexion was slightly tanned, but she could see his tan lines and saw that he was naturally very pale and as he bent down to inspect some fruit at a cart, Aleta blushed at his handsome face.

`I must be lonely if I am attracted to some strange… foreigner!' She thought in disgust. Still, she led Inigo to the man as though that thought had never happened. She felt her heart pound, but not because of her attraction. What if this man refused to help them? She had been so busy looking for someone to tell her where she could find a doctor that she hadn't considered that when she found one, they might not be willing to help `the mother of the devil'.

The man, Dr. Roberts; she had to remind herself to call him, not `the man' or `the stranger', was wearing a clean whit t-shirt and brown slacks, a strange combination, she thought but it made him look charming. His blonde hair was straight and not exactly long but nearly shaggy and wasn't cut close to his head giving him an odd, shining look in the bright sunlight. As he looked at her, she almost gasped. He had green eyes, green! They weren't hazel, either, but a bright green that reminded her of freshly cut grass.

Dr. Roberts looked at her curiously and she imagined that in a small, Portuguese village, few women had dared to walk up to him. Well, she dared. Inigo stared up at the stranger; his eyes wide in curiosity and Aleta realized that he had never seen an American before except on TV. Inigo marveled how like himself and like Draven, this man looked nothing like the people he was used to seeing, but unlike Draven, he didn't fear him at all. Aleta watched in fear as the doctor looked down at Inigo. She waited for the fear and disgust to enter his eyes. Instead, the tall man kneeled down, looked at her son in the eye, and, with a pleasant smile, ruffled his hair.

“You must be Inigo,” he said. Aleta paled.

“H-how do you know my son's name?” She asked, her eyes looking around for an easy way out, wondering how quickly she could get her child away from the stranger and back to the house. Dr. Roberts looked up at her with his attractive green eyes and she blushed again.

`This is ridiculous,' she thought, `I'm a grown woman, not a teenage girl!'

“Mrs. Santiago,” the doctor said, a hand on Inigo's shoulder, who seemed oblivious to the situation, having never met a man who would smile and ruffle his hair like his mother did, “I have worked in this village for seven years and in that time, I was seen as a devil. Because I'm not from Brazil, no one would talk to me or even look me in the eye! As a doctor, I was struggling just to make a living, but then your son was born and these people found someone else to hate. So, you could say that I know your son very well.”

Aleta felt relaxed. This... doctor knew what she and Inigo were going through? The real question, though, was if he was sympathetic. Just because he was distanced from the community didn't mean that would be willing to help them. Still, he was the first person to approach Inigo was a child.

“You're a doctor,” Inigo chirped. Dr. Roberts smiled at him.

“That's right, kiddo. And how are you feeling?”

“I'm good,” Inigo said, “I was reeeeeeally sick last night, but I'm all better now!”

Dr. Roberts looked over the child with a doctor's eye, then looked back up at Aleta.

“Will I be overstepping my bounds if I asked to examine him?”

The mother in Aleta wanted someone to tell her that her child was ok, but she wondered if it was completely a doctor's interest that the blonde American wanted to examine her son, but as she looked at him, she couldn't see any ulterior motives in his face.

“Ok,” she said with a weak smile. She grabbed Inigo's hand again and they followed the doctor to an old building. Fear started to build in her. What if this was a trick? What if this man was leading them away to kill her son? But, when Dr. Roberts led them into the building she saw that the inside was clean and professional. He looked back at her as he brought them to an office with an examination table. There was no waiting room and it made the whole operation seem more intimate to her. She had only been to a doctor a few times and she had hated each time. The office had large photo pictures, not of doctor-like things like the doctors she had had contact with in her job as a mid wife, but of mountains and fields of flowers. It was nice, she thought.

“We haven't been formally introduced, have we?” Dr. Roberts asked. He was professional, Aleta thought, but there was also a kindness to him that she wasn't used to.

“I'm Jake Roberts,” he said. Her smile strengthened. It was such an exotic name, she didn't know if she could even pronounce it.

“Hello, J-,” as she shook his large hand, she stuttered on his strange name, “Dr. Roberts, I'm Aleta Santiago.”

He shook her hand.

“Hi, Jake!” Inigo said happily, swinging his pale legs as he sat on the table. Aleta stared at him as he said the doctor's name so perfectly that she didn't admonish him for calling an adult by his first name. Roberts' smile grew as Inigo pronounced his name without any trouble. Aleta imagined that he hadn't met many that could and she could help but feel pride.

“Can I call you Jake?” Inigo asked, finally remembering his manners.

“Sure, short stuff,” Dr. Roberts said as he took out a stethoscope and breathed on it to warm it. Inigo beamed at him.

“Are you really from America?” Inigo asked, impressed.

“Yep. Can you lift up your shirt for me?”

Inigo tugged up his shirt and let the doctor check out his heart. Aleta chuckled to herself. Roberts might as well have worn a cape when he said that since Inigo was now looking at the blonde like he was his new hero. Aleta was glad to see that Dr. Roberts was so professional. She had heard stories about American doctors doing things to the children in their care, but Roberts wasn't one of those doctors, she could tell.

“Which state are you from?” Inigo asked excitedly. Aleta felt her chest ache. She had never seen Ingo this relaxed with another person before.

“Illinois,” Roberts said, amused at the five year old's curiosity as he took out a pen light to look into Inigo's ears.

“You speak Portuguese very well,” Aleta said, also becoming impressed with the young doctor. Roberts put the pen back in the drawer and pressed his fingers to Inigo's throat, checking his thyroid.

“I was planning on coming Brazil in college, so I had plenty of time to work on my accent. Open and say `ah',” he told Inigo and looked at his throat.

“So, Mrs. Santiago, what is the reason you approached me today?” Roberts asked. Aleta blushed as she realized that she had completely forgotten why she had come into town in the first place.

“Oh… actually… it's about the illness that's been affecting the animals, but you're not a vet,” she said in a depressed tone.

“I'm afraid you and the rest of the town are out of luck there,” Roberts said as he went to another cabinet and took out a blood pressure pump, wrapping the cuff around Inigo's thin arm. Inigo's expression tightened at the pressure around his arm, but didn't try to move away or make any noises

“Dr. Catalo left Manaus two days ago,” Roberts told her, “right now Dr. Maluro and I are the only doctors left.”

“But then…,” Aleta bit her lip, “What can we do?”

Dr. Roberts made note of Inigo's blood pressure with a frown and took off the cuff.

“Dr. Maluro has been answering house calls for the diseased cattle. We may only have experience with people, but we aren't completely useless,” Roberts told her with a slightly sarcastic smile. Aleta brightened. He wasn't a veterinarian, but he was a doctor.

“Then, you know what's happening!” She said in excitement. Here was a man who must have a reasonable explanation, someone who would be able to talk some sense into her husband!

“No,” Roberts said sadly, “no one has asked for my help yet and I haven't had the chance to examine any of the sick or dead animals.”

“But, then you can help us, then? If no one else needs you, then you aren't busy,” Aleta said desperately, not willing to be brought down so easily. She had finally met someone sane in this town and she refused to let him slip through her fingers. He could help her with more than just the cattle and Marcus' deadly fanaticism concerning the animals, she realized. Roberts smiled at her and she felt that his clear green eyes were looking inside of her.

“Of course I can,” he said softly, “and I'm happy to say that, except for a very elevated blood pressure for someone his age, your son is in perfect health. Though, may I ask you a question?”

Aleta felt her heart speed up as Roberts mentioned Inigo's blood pressure. There was only one reason for it: stress. She felt her guilt try to disembowel her, but she pulled herself together

“Alright,” she managed to say though her voice was thick in her throat. Roberts looked at one of Inigo's ears.

“This scar on his ear, it wasn't accidental, was it?” Roberts pressed his fingers against the scarred puncture on Inigo's ear lobe.

“No,” Aleta said, looking away from the doctor in shame. Seeing that wound still hurt and having this man point it out to her reminded her of her past inability to protect her son. Roberts frowned as he looked at the ragged hole.

“My sister stabbed me,” Inigo said solemnly as he relived the phantom pain of the wound. Aleta winced at that admission. She waited for Roberts to turn on her with that look in his eye, the one that would scream `child abuse', the one that would call her an unfit mother. But, though he did look at her, his gaze was not damning, but sympathetic.

“It must have hurt,” Roberts said to Inigo. Ingo shrugged.

“A little bit,” he said bravely. Jake ruffled his hair again.

“Well, champ, looks like your mom's been taking good care of you.”

Inigo nodded vigorously.

“She's a good mommy.”

Aleta blushed. Dr. Roberts helped the little red head off the table.

“Since you came all of this way, I might as well accompany you two back,” Roberts said, smiling at Aleta.

“Thank you,” Aleta smiled back. Inigo also smiled at their exchange. He liked Jake and his mother seemed to like him, too. He grabbed Jake's hand on his left and his mother's hand with his right, feeling safe and comfortable between the two of them.

 

Aleta, the strange American, and her equally strange son, got a lot of stares as they left the town, but since they were left alone, she ignored them. Inigo stayed in between them and for once, Aleta felt confident about his safety. They walked in comfortable silence down the road for a few minutes before Inigo broke away from them to chase a red squirrel that had run across the path. She let him run after it, but made sure that he stayed in her sights.

“Having a child like Inigo must be difficult,” Roberts said, watching the five year old intently. Aleta frowned.

“No, it's not him that's difficult, it's everyone else.”

Roberts chuckled.

“Some in your position might hate their child for causing such a rift in their family.”

Aleta shook her head.

“No, I could never blame Inigo for this… mess.”

“That's a very good attitude to have.”

Aleta bit her lip. Should she really ask this man the question that had been burning in her mind for the last few days?

“I'm beginning to fear for his safety, actually,” she admitted. Roberts nodded.

“I've heard some of the disgusting thing people have been saying about him. I don't think that it's a good idea for him to be in Manaus. This town is on the verge of blowing sky high and when it does your son is going to be their scapegoat.”

Aleta felt tears prickling her eyes.

“My husband… his father, he's already talking about sacrificing him! I've tried to leave, but no one would help me.” Aleta refused to mention the incident with her brother in law, though why she couldn't bear to say that when she had admitted that her own husband was thinking of killing their child, she did not know.

Roberts was silent as they walked, watching Ingo finally gave up on the squirrel and waited for them to catch up.

“I'm not surprised,” he murmured, rolling the problem around in his mind until something seemed to come to him, “I know a man. His name's Nicolao and he runs one of the boats across the river.”

Aleta hung on his every word, but kept her face neutral. She knew better than to let hope overwhelm her at this point.

“And you think that this man will help us?”

Roberts rubbed at the back of his head.

“I think so. For years he was the only one who would ever talk to me. He's the one who brought me across the river the first time and I don't think that he's very superstitious. However,” Roberts paused and Aleta held her breath. Here it was, there was always something, some little thing that would try to stop her.

“Since the river's flooded, you won't be able to cross for at least a couple of days.

Aleta breathed again. Of course! She had forgotten all about the river. Every hour that Inigo remained here felt like a risk to her, but surely they could wait just two more days?

“Monday,” she said with determination, “I can't wait until later than that.”

“Alright,” Jakes said softly, “I'll tell him that you're coming.”

As the two of them caught up to Inigo, the little boy took their hands again and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

 

When they got to the farm, Marcos was already back, waiting for them impatiently in the front yard. He took one look at Jake and growled low in his throat, like a wild dog that has spotted another male in his territory.

“Who the fuck is this?” Marcos snapped. Jake didn't seem perturbed at the unspoken threat, but was instead annoyed at the man swearing in front of his son.

“This is Dr. Roberts; he's here to look at the sheep. He came all this way and you will be civil to him,” Aleta said calmly. With a polite smile, Jake extended his hand to Marcos.

“Mr. Santiago-,”

“This way,” Marcos growled, ignoring the doctor and walking toward the back yard. Jake laughed as Inigo gave him a comically suffering look.

 

“Oh, my god!” Aleta had to turn around as she got a look at the bloody corpse, its open insides, or what was left of them, were completely exposed. She felt her own insides churn while Inigo did not seem that bothered and she remembered that he had been out here earlier that morning. Inigo watched in fascination as Jake took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. The tall man kneeled down and stuck his hands in the sheep's body, looking for something.

“Well?” Marcos asked angrily, “don't you have to take a blood sample or something?”

Roberts withdrew his hand and snapped off his gloves. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, I'm afraid that won't be necessary.”

“Is it that flesh eating bacteria thing?” Aleta asked, still unable to look at the animal.

“No. See, flesh eating bacteria doesn't actually eat anything, it just kills the flesh.”

“You don't have any idea what killed it, do you?” Marcos said smugly, giving Inigo a heated look.

“No, I don't,” Jake admitted, “however, I can assure you that there is an explanation.”

Marcos looked puzzled. He wasn't expecting this. He had thought that the doctor would be shocked, not this calm surety.

“And what does an American boy like you know?” Marcos snarled. Jake narrowed his green eyes at him.

“Mr. Santiago, I am going to tell you what any credited doctor would, while I have never seen this happen before, there is nothing extraordinary or supernatural about it. I am confident that the people in this town would react the same way to a mutated case of e. coli.”

“Are you insulting us?!”

“Of course not,” Roberts said, his character exuding professionalism, even amongst Marcos' rage.

“The fact is, this sheep did die because of an illness.”

Marcos' eyes became wide.

“What?” He asked, surprised. No, there wasn't any illness, there couldn't be…

“Well, while it is true that I have never seen a disease quite like this, there is evidence here that it may be related to the Ebola virus, it might even be a mutated strain, though the way it works and how it dissolves flesh like this is both disturbing and elusive. Still, this sheep did die of a disease.”

Roberts stood and Marcos took a step away from him, temporarily surprised by his height.

“I suggest you burn this body. If this disease is as contagious as I think it is, disposing of anything showing symptoms might keep it from spreading too far. No one in this town or the next has the means to examine this contagion. We'll have to wait until the river is crossable before getting help.”

“By then, everything could be contaminated!” Marcos protested.

“The fact is that without the use of the river, we are alone here, trapped, really. Since this is a new virus or bacteria, there is nothing we can do without certain equipment.”

Marcos was incapable of accepting any of this, but he took the young doctor's advice anyway and brushed past them to get the wheel barrow.

“Thank you, Aleta said to Jake, “but is that all true?”

Jake nodded.

“I man not believe in your husband's superstitions, but I am a doctor and I would never lie.”

Aleta sighed in relief.

“Then, it really is some illness?”

“Yes,” Jake said with such conviction that Aleta had no doubts, “even if I believed in the supernatural, there would be no doubt in my mind that these animals' deaths were natural.”

“What do we owe you?” She asked. He raised an eyebrow in question and she blushed

“I mean, you gave Inigo an examination though he wasn't your patient and you came all the way out here though you aren't a vet…”

He smiled at her.

“Since you'll be leaving Monday, let's call it a parting gift,” he said.

“Will you come with us?” She asked.

“I'm sorry, but no. If this contagion starts to spread to people, I'll be needed,” he said sadly.

“Well,” she forced herself to smile, though she realized that they would never meet again, “thank you for helping us.”

“You're welcome. I suggest that you not let Inigo out here, at least not by himself. I'd never forgive myself if he got sick. Besides, I don't think your husband is going to take my opinions to heart.”

“I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere without me,” Aleta promised. Jake smiled down at Inigo, who was listening intently to them.

“You hear that, kiddo?”

Inigo nodded.

“I'll stay with mommy,” he said. Jake ruffled his fiery hair.

`I wish he was my dad,' Inigo thought, weighing his own father against the doctor.

“Good boy,” he shook the boy's hand and said his goodbyes. Aleta had been right, the doctor would never see the redheaded boy and his mother again.

 

3:02 AM, Friday morning, Francos Pasosos woke.

“The Damned Thing. It's here,” he muttered, shaking his head. He did not know what had woken him, but he left his bed and his wife, his sweet Marleta, sleeping peacefully. He was restless. He walked downstairs to the kitchen and poured himself a cold glass of water. All of the windows were open and the night air was cool, though there was little breeze. The light from the half moon that shone through the clouds lit the house just enough that he didn't need to turn on the lights to see his way back upstairs. He didn't trust the lights anymore anyway. Lately, the electricity had been screwed up like it had been all over town, lights flickered, radios turned on and off with static on every station, so loud that it sounded like someone was screaming, even their television was acting oddly. He stopped in front of his daughters' room and saw that all three of them were sleeping peacefully. They were his princesses, Bella, Crystal, and Rosi. They weren't triplets, but it was still early in his life for him to be worrying about having a son. He started with Crystal, she was the oldest. He sat on the edge of her bed and watched her sleep. She didn't sense him as he leaned over her, but her eyes shot open as he wrapped his hand around her neck. He pressed his thumb tightly against her neck, making it impossible for her to make a noise.

“Daddy?” He heard Bella murmur sleepily. Her olive eyes blinked at him through the dark of the room.

“Go back to sleep, honey,” he said with a smile.

“'k,” her eyes slid closed and she rolled onto her side. Crystal's limbs flailed, her nails scratching at him. He watched and waited as she started to weaken. Her muscles relaxed and she stared up at him with wide, unseeing eyes. He looked at her for a few minutes more then got up and walked to Bella's bed. She was fast asleep now and made little fuss as he strangled her in the same matter as her sister. She was half dead before she was able to struggle against him, but after a few minutes, she, too, stopped fighting. He heard Rosi, his youngest, start to scream. He let go of Bella, her arm falling limp off the side of the bed. He walked over to Rosi who was trying to untangle her legs from her blankets, looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Papa! Don't!” She cried. He grabbed her little head and twisted it, breaking her neck with a loud napping sound.

“Oh, God!” Marleta screamed in the doorway.

“Go back to bad, baby,” Francos said, letting go of Rosi's had. The dead child fell to the floor like an old wooden doll, complete with glassy eyes and askewed limbs. He heard Marleta run off and he went back to their bedroom. He heard her run down the steps as he slipped into bed. He hoped that she didn't trip and break her neck. He sighed. She had better hurry up with whatever she was doing upstairs. He hated sleeping in a cold, empty bed.

 

Aleta woke at five to hear the phone ringing. Still half asleep, she listened to it ring twice more, then fall silent before she could even realize what had woken her up. She blinked in confusion at the room around her before she remembered that she was sleeping in Inigo's bed, keeping her promise to Dr. Roberts not to leave her son alone. The sudden image of her husband creeping into her son's room in the dark, early morning with a shotgun or axe made her shudder. She looked down at Inigo. It was too early for him to get up yet, but she would not be able to go back to sleep. Her son was curled up in her arms, his back to her chest. He was crying and shaking almost violently, stuck in a nightmare.

“Papa, don't…,” he mewled. Aleta frowned. She had never heard him call his father `papa' before. She bit her lip. After what his father had said yesterday, she wasn't surprised that he was having nightmares. The phone started to ring gain and Inigo jerked and twitched against her, crying harder. She tightened her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

“Ssh,” she murmured, “its ok, just a few more days and it'll all be ok.”

The phone rang and rang…

 

At 2:51, across town from the Santiago's and Pasosos', Eduardo Beezera yanked the phone cord out of the wall and flung the phone into the basement door. The damn phone had been ringing or the past hour and each time he had answered it, there was no one there, only a high pitched static.

“Fucking kids,” he grumbled, “who the fuck calls at fucking three in the morning?! Fucking Dark Thing! I have things to fucking do!” The phone problem solved for the moment at least, he strode out of the house and into the barn. It was strange, the place being so empty. All five of his horses had succumbed to the strange disease that had hit the other farms. He picked up a wood cutting axe from the far wall and walked to the work bench. There was so much to do and so little time to do it. It was 2:56 which meant he had six minutes to finish this. He made sure that the electric circular saw on the work bench was working before he started. With how the electricity had been so screwy lately, he didn't trust it to work when he needed it and the saw was the only thing that could do the job.

He laid his left arm on the work bench and lifted the axe. Wielding the heavy blade was difficult with one hand, but as he swung it down on his wrist, he managed. The axe made a wet, `thunk' noise as it sunk into him, but only went halfway through. He swore and swung the ax one more time, crowing in triumph as the second blow finally severed his hand. If he kept it up at this pace, he could finish this in time. With his remaining hand, he switched on the saw motor.

 

At seven o'clock, as Aleta and Inigo were eating breakfast, the phone rung again.

“Will you get that?” Marcos snapped. Aleta sighed and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

Inigo watched in confusion as his mother's eyes opened and he heard someone screaming in broken Portuguese through the receiver. The only things that he could understand were `my babies' and `must kill yours,' neither made much sense to him, so he continued to eat his yoghurt.

“M-Marleta, slow down,” Aleta stuttered, “Stop it! What are you going on about?!”

Marcos watched her with fierce eyes. Inigo took his dishes to the sink where Maria had been washing silverware, but was now watching Marcos grab the phone from Aleta and started to converse heatedly with the hysterical woman on the line. Inigo somehow instinctively understood that something was going on and he needed to get out of there. He quickly dumped his dishes in the dishwasher and ran up the steps. How many times had he retreated here while his parents fought? he wondered. As he passed by his father's room, he saw through the window that grey clouds were starting to form and he could no longer see the sun, but it didn't look like it was going to rain yet. He wished that he could go outside today, but that probably wouldn't happen now. He wondered what Jake was doing right now and if he was just as lonely as him. He heard his mother following him to his room and was glad. That meant that they hadn't been fighting like he had thought.

Inigo made his bed and placed his sketch books in his black back pack and anything else that could fit including his stuffed bunny, Jam; so called because the bunny was a weird dark reddish-purple color. He didn't know why he did it, he just felt like he should. He found the secret compartment in the back of his closet and took out the allowances that he had saved up for the past two years; R$ 208,8* to be exact, he counted with pride. If they were leaving Monday, he supposed he had to gather all of this sooner or later. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't oblivious. He had understood everything that his mother and Jake had talked about. He understood that everyone thought that the bad things were his fault and that they, including his family, wanted to kill him to make those bad things go away. So, he knew why his mother was so anxious to leave. In fact, he was glad that they were leaving. He was excited by the thought of seeing other places. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with his family anymore. Deep, deep down inside, there was a tiny part of himself that still loved his father, grandmother, and siblings indiscriminately and unconditionally, despite their abuse, but he just couldn't take it anymore. He didn't wish them any ill will; he just couldn't stand being around them. That didn't make him evil, did it? To want to leave with just his mother? He wished it was Monday. He wished that he could just forget the bad things.

His mother finally came into the room. She was pale and looked disturbed. Instead of wearing a brightly colored dress, she was wearing a bland pair of pants and a brown satchel tied around her waist.

“Mommy, what's going on?” He asked as he saw her stricken face. She picked him up and at the on his bed.

“A couple of people…,” her voice started crack, “some people have died.”

“They think I did it, don't they?” Inigo said in a soft voice. Aleta's eyes were wide as she looked at her son. She wanted to tell him so badly that it wasn't true, that everything was going to be fine, that he was loved and people were just a little confused, but that time had come and gone. The air was thick with something terrible and even with those comforting words on her tongue, she realized that she didn't have the luxury of pretty lies anymore.

“Yes, they do.”

Inigo nodded, satisfied with her answer. People were dead and everyone except his mother thought that he had killed them and sooner or later, they would no longer sit back and let continue living while innocent people had died. But when? Today, tomorrow? Would they be knocking on the door in only a few minutes? Or would the job fall on his father's shoulders? Inigo shuddered.

“We'll last until Monday, I'll make sure of it,” Aleta hugged him, “But I think we should stay away from the house as long as we can.”

“k,” Inigo said and hopped off the bed. He didn't mind hiding outside, but his heart pounded as he felt they were on the verge of some great ravine, ready to fall of into the unknown. He felt anxious, like a rabbit that knows that a trap is near, but can't quite see it yet. He grabbed his bag and held his mother's hand as they walked downstairs. Aleta got as many bottles of water out of the refrigerator as she could and stashed them and some sandwiches into her and Inigo's bag. Marcos' money felt like lead in her satchel, but some part of her knew that she needed it as soon as possible. She wondered why, Marcos would surly find out she had stolen it by Monday. She had never stolen anything from her husband, but it didn't bother her that much now. Right now she was more concerned with what he would do if he ever found out what she was planning. She didn't know what to do; she was panicking. Now that four people were dead, it was impossible to say what was going to happen, all she could think of to do was get Inigo away from everyone else. Sharp, buzzing thoughts told her to just go, now, before anything else happened, but where would she go? It had only been a day, so the river was still flooded and hiding out in the woods was too big of a risk. Besides, they didn't have much food or water. She would just have to keep her eyes wide open tonight or maybe sleep in the filed where they would be harder to spot. She was sure that there was some way she could hide Inigo's red hair. She took a deep breath as she realized that her thoughts were taking on a babbling, hysterical quality. She would figure something out, they had survived this long, hadn't they?

Inigo tugged at her slack hand and they left the house through the kitchen door. The sky was strange, Aleta thought, dark clouds were quickly gathering and everything seemed grey, yet there was no rain, just almost black clouds in every inch of sky. Color had seemed to bleed from the world. She wished that it would rain, instead of this odd weather included tension. The clouds seemed to need it and perhaps she did as well. The grass was black and turned to a strange dust as it crunched underneath their feet.

The bark of the trees scattered along their property was peeling and only a few still had leaves on them. Through one tree was a large crack, like something had tried to split it in half vertically, but hadn't gotten all the way to the bottom. They passed by the barn, chicken coop, and fenced off areas of the field, but there were no sounds and not a single animal could be seen. There were no birds in the sky or horses or sheep wandering to the fence to get a look at them as they passed. The silence was almost oppressive. The image of the dead sheep haunted her as she plowed forward, past the fences and into the field. All of the tall grass had died and the trees were rotting. There was no place to hide and she didn't feel comfortable out here amongst the death and disease. No one had gotten sick from it yet, but it made her nervous. This place was so wide and grey; it scared her. None of this seemed to bother Inigo and he sat on a huge tree stump from an oak tree that Marcos had cut down last summer. Remarkably, no, more like strangely, there was no rot here; the stump was exactly as it had been since the tree had been cut. Aleta joined him and the two of them looked at the darkening sky. The wisps of clouds were curling in a strange sort of formation. When it finally did rain, it was going to be bad, she thought, but for now, besides how dark it was getting, there was no change in the weather.

They sat in silence, so close together that their arms touched. There was nothing left to say between them, no games to play on the decayed grass, no animals for Inigo to chatter about. So they sat and said nothing, watching the sky and the occasional wind that tore at the feeble, dying leaves. It felt like they were waiting for something; night to come so they could slink back inside for the pretense of sleep, someone to come looking for them, the storm to come, she didn't know. The waiting for something to break the calm was enough to make her mad, if not for the presence of her son, her only remaining responsibility, her most important responsibility, at her side. She looked at her watch, an old, plastic thing on a leather strap that she hadn't worn since before she had been married and had been lucky that it still worked. It was three o'clock, they'd been out there for hours and the sun would be setting in a few more hours. It felt strange; she had never been this unproductive in her life. She had dishes to do, windows to wash, and dinner to make. But that wasn't her problem anymore. She wondered briefly what would happen when she left. She wondered what would happen to her children. She had loved them once, but now it was so hard to see them as the babies she had cared for. Would Maria take over all of her responsibilities, or was she dooming her family to ruin and why did she feel so apathetic towards them and that fate? Even if she hated them, shouldn't she feel at least some sort of affection towards the people she had once loved?

She unconsciously scooted closer to Inigo, pressing her arm more firmly against his for some comfort. Inigo seemed to need it as well and leaned against her. She wished that she knew what he was thinking.

Inigo leaned heavily against his mother, feeling his eyelids droop. It was so quiet out here; he couldn't help but feel drowsy. Suddenly, he sat quickly, every muscle taut, his amber eyes wide, and his back ramrod straight.

“Mom…”

Whatever Inigo had been about to say was cut off by Aleta's scream as a large hand grabbed her by her hair and pulled her off the stump. She fought against the hand, grabbing at it, her nails digging into the skin, and when the person finally let go, she felt her body slamming into the hard ground. She gasped for air, panting, and looked up into the insane eyes of her husband.

“Marcos…” she panted. Inigo jumped off the stump and ran to his mother's aid, but his father backhanded him and sent the five year old sprawling to the ground. Aleta's eyes grew wide as she saw what was in Marcos' hand, an axe, it's blade seemed to shine even as there was no sun.

“Inigo, run!” She screamed, trying to struggle to her feet, but Marcos shoved her back down. Inigo tried to run to her. He couldn't leave her! He had to help her some how…

Either way, it didn't matter, Marcos grabbed him by his t-shirt and yanked him towards him, shaking him like a rag doll.

“Marcos, don't…” Aleta pleaded. Marcos looked at her with an incredulous expression.

“Four people are dead. Children are dead… and you're still protecting him?” Marcos asked in agitation, “how can you protect this… this thing!” He shook his son hard, his hand tightening on the axe.

“He is my son,” Aleta felt her breath come back to her, but didn't make a move, not while Marcos was looking at her.

“He is my son and he has done nothing wrong!” She yelled, anger boiling in her heart.

“He is a murderer,” Marcos snarled.

“No, he isn't!” Aleta protested, fear morphing into a rage so hot and sharp, it felt like it was killing her, “but if you do this, you will be.”

“So be it.”

Inigo lurched forward, his shirt ripping. His father grabbed his arm in a tight grip. Remembering what had happened with the soccer ball, he turned as much as he could and delivered a fierce kick to his father's knee. Marcos cried out and released Inigo's arm. Inigo darted forward and Marcos swung the axe, the red head screaming as he felt the blade slash through him. Marcos snarled at the sight of blood, but knew that it wasn't over. He reached out and grabbed Inigo's trailing hair as he tried to run, yanking him back.

With a feral scream, Aleta leapt onto Marcos' back. At the site of her son's blood, she became a raging animal, biting and scratching at every inch of skin she could get at. She hooked her nails into the healing cut she had made on Marcos' cheek and ripped it open. She felt like crying in triumph as Marcos screamed in pain. He fell to his knees in shock at the sudden pain and feel of warm blood dripping down his face. She fell off of his back and rolled. Marcos let go of Inigo's hair, but Inigo didn't move, he just stared at his father, frozen. Aleta didn't take a second chance, bypassing the axe and her fallen husband to sweep her child into her arms and ran as fast as she could into the forest.

As Aleta ran off of their property and into the forest, she could hear Marcos running after her. However, she was quicker than him and smaller, so she darted through small places through the thick trees and over thorn bushes that Marcos had trouble following through. She almost laughed as Marcos cried out in pain, having run into and gotten stuck in one of the spiky bushes. She ran almost blindly through the forest, clutching her bleeding son to her desperately. She had lost all sense of direction; her only objective was to get her child away from her husband. Her side burned as she taxed her body to its limits. She ran and ran until it seemed like running was all that she had ever known. Her whole world narrowed to the feel of Inigo's blood soaking her shirt, the pounding of her heart in the roof of her mouth, and the forest vegetation as it beat against her.

Suddenly, she realized that the sound of Marcos chasing after her had stopped, but she didn't stop, she refused to stop until she had put as much distance between Inigo and his murdering father as he physically could. The burning in her side quickly blossomed into a stabbing pain and she had no choice but to slow down her pace. She stopped running when her feet and legs became like rocks and she realized that she couldn't take another step. Her vision blurred and she put a shaking hand on a large tree to steady herself. She thought that her eyes were misty because of her exertion, but she realized that it was because she was crying. Her legs were no longer able to support her and she slid to the ground, leaning against the tree.

She took deep breaths to try to calm her heart. She slumped; all of the fight drained out of her. She felt like someone had scooped everything out of her, leaving her barren.

“Innie…” she murmured. Her pain and exhaustion was nothing if her baby wasn't safe. She looked down at the child still tucked in her arms. His shirt was ruined, hanging completely off one shoulder. His eyes were wide and he seemed to be looking at nothing . His skin was unnaturally pale and he was cold, too cold for the warm day.

`He's in shock,' she realized, but she didn't know if it was because of his wound or because his father had tried to kill him. She rubbed at his arms, trying to get some heat back into him.

“Innie,” she said, louder. He blinked up at her and his body shuddered as he came back to himself, little by little.

“Are we safe?” He whispered. She pressed her fingers against his wrist, but he didn't notice. His pulse was racing faster than hers.

“I think so,” she said. Inigo looked around. They couldn't see the sky in the forest, but it still seemed brighter here, somehow.

“He tried to kill me,” Inigo said softly. Aleta hugged him tightly, her heart racing faster and faster at the thought of Marcos succeeding.

“Your father… he was wrong, he was bad,” Aleta said, and sighed in relief as Inigo seemed to accept that. If she could just stay strong, she could get Inigo out of this with his mind in tact. She was once again surprised at now tough he was. His father had just attacked him and they now were stuck, lost in the middle of the forest with very little food or water and nowhere to go. Yet, Inigo seemed ok, a little shaky, but he was dealing with it well.

“Honey, let me see where you were hurt.”

Inigo nodded and showed her his arm. The cut that the axe had made was long and bleeding, but it wasn't very deep and, she saw in relief, wouldn't need stitches. She bit her lip. She needed to clean and wrap the wound with something. She had two bottles of water in her satchel, but what to wrap it with? She eyed Inigo's torn shirt. That would do, but she didn't want Inigo to be shirtless, especially if it was going to rain soon.

“I got's some clothes in my back pack,” Inigo said. Aleta noticed for the first time that Inigo was still wearing back pack and she laughed a choked, almost insane sound.

“Good boy,” she murmured as she slipped the straps off of him, careful of his cut. She exchanged one of the shirts in the bag for his ruined one, tearing it further to make long strips. She washed out the wound, which was only sluggishly bleeding now and bound his arm. His wound taken care of for now, Aleta found herself looking for some other goal, she didn't want to settle right now, she didn't want to think, but she had to. Monday was a long way off. They had four bottles of water each, Inigo had two shirts and a pair of shorts besides the ones he had on now, and they had a bunch of sandwiches. They had no shelter and Aleta wouldn't feel better until she had some antibiotics to put on Inigo's arm. Even if they only drank and ate when necessary she wasn't sure if they would be able to hide out here for three days. Besides, what if a jaguar or some other beast came along and decided that they would make a good meal? They didn't have anything to defend themselves with.

“Are you hungry, honey?” she asked as Inigo settled in her lap again. He shook his head. She supposed that was a good thing since they had to conserve their food, but it worried her. He hadn't eaten since that morning, so his lack of appetite wasn't a good sign. Aleta took a sip from a water bottle and screwed the cap back on. With all the running she had done she wanted more than anything to guzzle the whole thing, but controlled herself. She put the bottle into Inigo's back pack to keep the temptation away.

`Out of sight, out of mind,' she thought bitterly. As they sat there in the middle of the woods, the day's events finally caught up with Inigo and he dozed off. Aleta felt her own exhaustion, just as powerful as the stiff, burning throbbing of her legs, but didn't dare fall asleep. She was tired, but at the same time, she couldn't sleep, she felt too haunted.

Night descended and it still hadn't rained. Several times Aleta had to comfort Inigo as his sleep was interrupted by screaming nightmares. The forest was soon filled by night sounds, strange, terrifying sounds that Aleta could not recognize, but her imagination placed them with monsters, huge beasts with sharp teeth and claws that would tear them to pieces if they were discovered. These sounds scared Aleta, but they seemed to soothe Inigo as he slept silently. To a child like Inigo, who spent more of his days watching shows and reading books about nature, the sounds of the forest were probably a comfort. She heard his stomach growl, but didn't wake him.

Time in the forest lost all meaning. As the night moved slowly, Aleta must have thanked God for her watch hundreds of times. There was something about knowing the time, a single drop of human knowledge in the primal world of the forest that made her feel more connected to realty. As her watch told her 12:00 AM, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Saturday, just two more days. Her hunger ate at her, but she was too scared of those forty-eight hours to take out a sandwich. The peanut butter and jelly ones would last, but not the liver worst or the spicy chicken liver. She wondered if Marcos was still looking for them or had let them go in hopes that they would not survive in the wilderness. Perhaps he was scared of the forest or knew that trying to find them was useless and was scared of getting lost. What if he was getting a search party right now? Of course, she reasoned, it would be more like a lynch mob than a search party. Realistically, it had been nine hours and she would have heard something if anyone was looking for them. What if Marcos had never made it out of the forest? What if he was still stumbling around, as hopelessly lost as they were? She hoped that he got eaten by something huge and hairy, with a bunch of pointy teeth, it would serve him right! Nine whole hours and she still couldn't sleep.

Aleta felt Inigo stir in her arms and looked up at her sleepily.

“Wha day's it?” he slurred, disoriented.

“It's Saturday morning. Do you think you can eat something?”

Inigo's stomach growled and he nodded, embarrassed. Aleta just smiled at him, glad that he was acting more like himself. He seemed to have gotten over his shock and his sleep had done him a lot of good, he was no longer shaky or pale and was looking at their surroundings with an innocent interest that only small children possessed. He didn't seem scared that they were lost in the woods, his attitude was much like it had been on their trips into town, filled with curiosity and little fear, seemingly ignorant of the danger that was everywhere. Aleta was once again amazed how Inigo could seem so calm in a situation that made her want to scream. Any other child would be putting up a fuss and demanding to know what was going on, but Inigo was taking things in stride. As she handed him a bottle of water and half of one of the chicken liver sandwiches, she did not even have to tell him to slow down and not eat more than he had to, he took little bites and sips, relishing the little bit that he consumed.

“Is daddy gone?” Inigo asked once he finished his small meal, feeling better with food and sleep taken care of. He hated how he had felt before, like he was fading away, but now he took everything in, from the green plants that were all around them to the slightly unbalanced look in his mother's eyes. He realized that she hadn't slept or eaten and felt ashamed that he had dozed off and left here to worry.

“Yes, I think so,” Aleta tried to assure him. She felt her hands start to shake a little and realized that she needed to eat. She took a few bites out of what was left of Inigo's sandwich and a few sips of water before packing it away. Birds chirped prettily above their heads and Aleta wondered if the sky was still dark grey or if everything had cleared. It was going to be a long two days.

Inigo stayed on Aleta's lap and looked around, wishing he could take out his sketchpad and draw the bright greens and reds of the flowers, but he didn't think that his mother would let him. She seemed so tense, like a rabbit that was ready to run and he didn't dare make anything more anxious for her, so he kept quiet.

“It's safe here,” Inigo noted. Aleta stared down at him.

“What do you mean?” Aleta asked, puzzled. This forest was even more dangerous than their home right now! They were lost, alone, and running out of food. Inigo took another glance around him.

“Well, everything's green and alive, nothing's dead. The forest is alive,” Inigo murmured. Aleta's eyes widened. She followed Inigo's gaze and stifled a shocked gasp. It would never cease to amaze her how her child could see things that she had so easily overlooked. Inigo was right, the forest was alive. Every leaf, every petal, every single blade of grass was green and bright and full. As far as she could see, there were greens and reds and yellows, no black, no brown, no decay. There was nothing dead here, there was no nasty smell of rot, no disease. She could hear the sound of birds chirping and saw butterflies flitting around the flowers. Insects, living vegetation, no storms… how was this possible when their home was so devastated? Inigo had said that this place was safe… she didn't even want to think what was happening in Manaus right now. Still, she felt relieved with the information that whatever was wrong with Manaus was not wrong here. As Inigo snuggled against her, she heard his stomach rumble, but neither of them said anything. She didn't want to think of their problems, it made her too tired. What scared her was that their biggest problem was not that they were hungry; it was that they were lost. Even if they survived until Monday, she didn't know how to get to the docks or it if would be safe there. She knew that Marcos wasn't stupid, he must have figured out what her plan was. What if Nicolao didn't wait until Monday to leave? She had never met the man and only had Roberts' word about him. What if Nicolao wasn't the kind man that Roberts' had painted him as? Aleta shook her head. All of these `what ifs' weren't getting her anywhere. Her thoughts were just circling around in a giant loop, re-treading the same anxieties over and over again. She would cross those bridges when she came to them. Right now, she just had to stay awake and keep watch. The jungle sounds during the day were still frightening to her, but the sunlight shinning through the thick trees kept away most of the fear and mystery. She realized that it was a childish concept, that the light would keep away all the bad things and that the monsters would only come out at night. She knew now that real monsters walked around in the broad daylight, just like everyone else. She knew that the most terrible monsters were not hairy beasts or the shadowy unknowns. They were friends and neighbors, sometimes even you own children. They were the people who you loved and trusted, they were those that you had let so deep in your heart that it was so easy for them to tear you to shreds.

Aleta woke from a terrible dream that she could not remember, nor did she know why she had woken up so suddenly. Her head pounded and her neck and eyes felt heavy. Her legs felt like they had been replaced by rocks over night. Her mouth felt dry, like she had been chewing on cotton balls in her sleep. She saw that night had fallen because the rays of light through the trees had vanished. Despite the humidity of the forest, she felt cold. Why had she fallen asleep? She was supposed to keep awake, keep watch, not drowse off at the first opportunity! Her heavy lidded eyes widened as she suddenly realized why she had woken up and why she was cold. The body of her child, which had been keeping her lap and stomach warm, had disappeared. She jumped to her throbbing feet.

“Inigo!” she screamed, terrible visions of large cats and boars tearing her baby apart filled her mind.

“Up here, mommy!” the wonderful cry came and she looked above her. Her son stood high up in the tree on a thick branch. In his arms, Inigo had what looked like three large, brown, green, and red colored melons.

“Get down here right now!” Aleta cried, her heart pounding in her chest from her scare, but she knew that in the end, she wouldn't yell at him. He was all she had and she had never been able to scold him in the past.

“'K!” he called back. He dropped the fruit onto a thick leafed bush, cushioning their fall and scaled back down the tree.

“I found food!” Inigo said, proud that he had found a way to help his mother. She felt her anger melt away. Those soft amber eyes always had a way of doing that. She hugged him tightly, knowing that she was hurting him a little bit with her grip, but she needed the contact as her fear still pounded inside of her. She vowed that, even if she had to hurt herself to accomplish it, she would not let him out of her sight, even in sleep. Inigo didn't make a sound as his mother squeezed him in a tight embrace. He kept scaring her and that made him feel awful, but when he saw the dangling fruit high above their heads, he knew that he would be the only one who could climb up their and his mother would never let him do something so dangerous. But, it didn't matter, they had more food now and he was sure that the other trees had fruit, too.

“Don't you ever disappear like that again, you hear me?” Aleta demanded. Inigo nodded. He hadn't been scared of climbing such a high tree, or climbing down, but it did scare him that he could make his mother so scared.

“Promise me!” she begged.

“I promise,” he said solemnly. Aleta felt herself relax. She knew that Inigo would keep his promise. She swept him up into her arms and walked to the bush were the fruit lay. The skin of the melons was soft and she knew that she would be able to open them easily, but would they be edible? She had never seen fruit like this and didn't know how to tell if it was ripe, or even if they should be eating it.

“It's ok,” Inigo said, wrapping his arms around her neck, “they smell good and I saw some birds eating them.” Inigo was confident, but Aleta was still leery of giving it to her son to eat. She picked up one of the melons and sniffed it, but didn't smell anything. She put Inigo down and took a rock from the ground. Sitting cross legged, she balanced the fruit in her lap and hit it with a jagged end of the rock until it split open. The inside flesh was a yellowish green and seemed ripe, at least there was no rot and the flesh was supple, not hard, so she broke off a piece and, with a hesitant grimace, put it in her mouth.

For whatever reason, Inigo was right. The fruit was sweet and had a unique taste. She waited a few minutes as she chewed and swallowed, but her stomach didn't clench and she felt fine afterwards, feeling better as she catered to her empty stomach. She ruffled Inigo's hair and he smiled at her. She didn't know how he was right all the time, but did it really matter? He had found them food and she knew that they would be able to survive another day. The fruit was juicy and it made her feel as though she had drank and ate at the same time. She helped Inigo with another melon and they sat down together and ate their meal in a satisfied silence.

“We'll make it,” Aleta said, the words sounding good, but somehow small out loud in the vastness of the jungle. She ran her fingers through the black stripe of hair in the middle of Inigo's fiery mass.

“Mom, what are we doing out here?” Inigo asked. She looked down at him, bewildered.

“What do you mean? We have to hide until Monday you know that,” she said.

“But why?” Inigo persisted.

“Because of the river, Inigo. We can't cross the river until it gets back to normal,” Aleta said simply, confused at why Inigo was questioning her when she had been sure that she had explained all of this before. Inigo sighed in exasperation, knowing that he wasn't explaining things well.

“I know that, but if Jake's friend is willing to help us, why can't he help hide us someplace safer? It's just for another day, he probably won't mind,” Inigo said. Aleta's expression turned from one of confusion to one of amazement. She hadn't thought of that, but it was so obvious! She had been thinking that Nicolao wasn't a possibility until Monday, but it was just the river that was impossible. Just because they couldn't leave yet didn't mean that Nicolao wouldn't help them. Aleta once again fought the urge to slam her head against something hard at her own stupidity As usual, Inigo was right. Even if Nicolao didn't want to hide them, at least they would have exhausted all of their possibilities instead of just sitting here, speculating. There was just one foreseeable problem.

“That sounds like a good idea, honey, but we're lost. I don't know the way to the dock,” she admitted. As an adult, she knew that she shouldn't admit such fallacies to her child, but the situation had gone past such things.

“But, we have to try to find it anyway! And what if on Monday we don't find it in time and he leaves without us! If we start to find our way there now, we'll have a better chance of getting there!” Inigo protested. Aleta wanted to argue that they could get even morel lost, but she knew that Inigo was right. She would rather try to risk the jungle than be left in Manaus because she was too scared to be doing what she should.

“As soon as the sun rises tomorrow, we'll go,” she promised.

 

That night, Aleta had a terrible dream. She didn't know how or why, but she was still in Manaus, still in the forest, but it was far in the future, because this forest was not bright and thriving, it was long past dead. Every bit of green had decayed and it looked as though she were trapped in a land of death and ash. Off in the distance, she could see smoke and flames and the decaying trees were covered in red, which she somehow knew was blood. The sky was blackened by murders of crows. She heard mournful, pained howls that made her want to cry. She ran barefoot towards that sound. She had to help whoever was crying… but she knew that she would never reach them. She looked down as something tightened around her leg and screamed. A giant snake that could easily eat her whole, its scales silver, yellow, brown, green, gold, blue, and red, shimmering in an impossible rainbow, looked back up at her with as much of a bored expression as a snake could have. It released her and slithered away. She ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction than the snake had gone and suddenly the crow filled sky exploded in a storm of feathers, the black mass forming a terrible, snarling beast that mimicked no other in nature or human imagination. The monster formed of swarming crows descended on her from the sky, its jaws gaping and hundreds of dead, black eyes staring at her as they attacked….

 

Aleta shot upright from the dream, but those terrible eyes followed her and she shuddered. Her insides burned and she realized that neither of them had gone to the bathroom. In the light of things, it hadn't even occurred to her, but neither of them could afford to get a bladder infection out here. It was just one more ting for her to worry about. Suddenly, Aleta realized that they were no longer alone.

Sometime during the night, an occupant of the jungle had visited them and now, a huge snake was curled in the long grass, its eyes staring at her intently. For a moment, she was sure that she was still dreaming, but this was no serpent brought on by her imagination or subconscious, this was an Anaconda, its golden eyes sharp amongst the green grass. Its body was massive and its reality was terrible. It was not as impossibly big as the one in her dream, but it was big enough and a snake of that size could easily swallow her child whole. It was the reality of the creature that made her open her mouth to scream, but a sharp tug on her shirt stopped her.

“Don't,” Inigo said in a whisper, “you'll scare him!”

The ridiculousness of a small woman like her scaring such a huge creature almost made her laugh, but she kept still. She realized that Inigo had been awake for awhile now and had been watching the snake in fascination. The snake, in turn, was now looking at Inigo with great interest, but not as something that it wanted to eat. Aleta wondered how a snake could have such an expression.

“Hi, Mr. Anaconda,” Inigo said with a wave of his small hand. The snake flicked its tongue in his direction, then slithered off. Aleta clutched Inigo to her tightly, her terror of the serpent making her heart pound and she realized that they had just been very close to death. Inigo squirmed in her grip.

“C'mon, we have to follow him!”

Aleta stared at her child with wide, brown eyes.

“W-what… Inigo, how could you say such a thing! This is no time to go nature watching!”

“But, Anacondas like water, so he'll lead us right to the river!”

“We are not following that… that thing!” Aleta protested, “It could eat both of us alive!”

“But it won't!” Inigo insisted. Aleta shook her head. She didn't care if Inigo had been right about things so far, she was not following a bone crushing snake anywhere.

“And how do you know that?” she hissed, “Inigo, you can't read an animal like that, especially a snake! And even if it didn't try to kill us for following it, do you really think that it would lead us out of here? Why would it be here in the first place?!”

Inigo managed to struggle his way out of her arms, got to his feet and stared at her in the eyes. She stopped in her rant, his eyes were intense and it reminded her of the snake in her dream. But, that was ridiculous! She didn't believe that her dream had had any meaning. She was just scared and had had a nightmare, but she had seldom seen Inigo so driven and he had never stood up to her like this before.

“But he's not lost, we are!” he cried.

With that, Aleta paused. They were lost, that was a fact, and it was also a good probability that the snake would lead them to the river. She was scared again and making decisions based on that fear while her son was trying to make decisions based on things that he knew were a fact. The fact was, the snake knew where it was going, and even Aleta knew that Anacondas loved water. She was sure that following a constrictor, while dangerous, was probably a lot safer than going off in a random direction. Even if the snake led them deeper into the forest, at least one of them was confident that they would find their way and it was better than just sitting here and doing nothing. So, against every deep part of her that was terrified of the jungle, and had an even stronger fear of snakes, she stood and took Inigo's hand. She swallowed nervously, but Inigo tightened his grip on her hand and smiled proudly up at her. She smiled back, shakily, realizing the shamefulness of having her five year old son leading the way, and being proud that she was trying to conquer her childish fears.

 

One thing that Aleta had never known until then was how fast snakes could be, especially one as big as a constrictor. She had always thought that snakes were slimy, slow, bumbling creatures, but the one that they were tracking seemed more capable of speed and agility than she could ever have hoped for. On her own, she never would have been able to find its path, but Inigo noticed how the snake's heavy body had created grooves in the grass and they had managed to follow them. As they walked, the trees grew denser and denser and Aleta started to squint as the sun grew brighter. The day was clear and blue, things that surprised her just because it had seemed like forever since she had seen the sky, though it had only been two days. As they walked, the grass started to thin out and the grooves stopped, but before Aleta could panic, the trees opened to grassy fields and they could see a dirt road in the distance. Joy flooded Aleta's chest and she thought that she would cry, but didn't allow herself to. They were out of the jungle, not out of danger. A road meant people and people meant danger. They were out in the open now and there was nowhere to hide. They had been walking for hours and sat down in the grass to rest. They shared a water bottle and peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was now a bit soggy, but still edible. She refused to let her relief at finding their way to a sign of civilization make her drop her guard. They still had to conserve what they had. She was sure that the road led to the docks, though, and she couldn't help but feel excited at this very visible goal.

The open sky was a brilliant blue without a single cloud. Some red and green birds flew above their heads, chirping loudly. As in the jungle, here there was no sign of what Aleta had started call `The Plague'. She didn't know if that was a good sign or not, but it put her mind at ease. They walked for a long time and when they finally reached the road, morning had turned to afternoon and they were being pestered by gnats as the air turned muggy. There was no sign of the snake anywhere and Aleta felt grateful for that. It was true that the serpent had unintentionally saved them, but she wasn't about to throw away her fears of all scaly, legless things . There was no traffic on the road, but the lack of hiding places made her nervous. Anyone driving down here could see them plainly and days in the forest hadn't dulled the shine in Inigo's red hair. She looked left, then right. They had found a road, most likely the road, but she still wasn't sure where they were exactly. Which way lead to the docks and which lead back into town?

“This way,” Inigo said, pointing to the right, out of breath and wobbly from walking so far, “the river's to the east and we've been going north.”

Aleta opened her mouth to ask how he knew that, but closed it quickly. She smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

“If you say east, then east it is,” she said cheerfully. He smiled brightly back at her and they walked to the right of the road.

Where the forest had provided shade and shelter, the road provided none and the sun was harsh in the early afternoon. Out of the jungle and away from their dying house, the open fields and well groomed dirt road seemed like a whole world away, though Aleta knew that if her suspicions about the road were correct, Manaus was only a thirty minute drive away.

Aleta's belief that they were on the right road; and Inigo's belief that they were headed in the right direction, was soon confirmed as they passed by a red barn that was painted in bright, ludicrous colors depicting roosters and flying sheep. Only the Roulades would paint their barn so outrageously. In the past she would have scoffed at the bright colors and cartoon-like renditions, but now she smiled.

“We're going the right way,” she told Inigo with an almost childish, gleeful smile. He looked at the barn inquisitively.

“So, we're not lost anymore?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No. I know where we are and the docks are only a little ways off. If we follow this road, we'll have no trouble.”

She wanted to voice out loud how their luck had finally changed, but she didn't trust fate to not turn on her if she admitted to such luck.

As they walked, the sun was unsympathetic to Inigo's pale skin and Aleta knew that, within hours, he would burn, but there was nothing for him to take shelter under and she didn't dare stop walking, lest their good fortune would change and someone would come down the road. It was strange, really. It was the weekend, besides, Jake had said that many people were leaving Manaus, but no one was heading to the docks. In the time that they had been hiding had everyone that had been planning on leaving, left, or was there something else going on? For some reason, that thought sent chills down her spine. She thought back to Francos. He was such a pleasant, kind man, but had murdered his daughters with such nonchalance. If there had been something making those people do those horrible things, then maybe that same thing was keeping them from leaving? She shook her head. Such thoughts were ridiculous superstition! That was the same sort of thinking that had made them run from home in the first place. There was nothing supernatural going on in Manaus, odd, yes, but not paranormal. Those people had just been sick.

The only sign of people on the road came when Aleta spotted a red pick up truck parked on the side of the road. She halted, her grip on Inigo's hand keeping him from walking ahead of her. Her brown eyes stayed on the truck as they stood there, feeling very much like the proverbial doe in the headlights, but nothing happened. She started to relax as she realized that it there was someone in the truck, they would have seen them by now and she slowly started to walk forward warily. There was no motion from within the truck and she started to believe that it had simply been abandoned. It didn't look damaged or rusted, so it hadn't been sitting out for very long. The likelihood that the owner had left the keys in the car was unlikely, but she became excited just at the possibility of a car. Getting to the docks would take another hour at the very least on foot, but with a car, it would be practically nothing. She could get Inigo simultaneously out of the sun and away from the eyes of anyone passing on the road, if anyone did. She looked through the car window and instantly wished that she hadn't.

“Don't look,” she said, a sharp squeak and a tremor in her voice and she dragged Inigo away from the car. Inigo bit his lip to keep the questions from pouring out. It wasn't anyone she knew, which she was grateful, but the man's face was clear as day. His body was horribly gnarled and twisted like vine, his muscles taut, his eyes wide, blue, and starting, and his face a permanent expression of horror…

Aleta shuddered. The car hadn't crashed, so why had he stopped? What had happened to him? This wasn't rigor mortis, it was something else. Was this part of the plague or something completely new? Just what was going on in this town?! The car keys, shining, were dangling tantalizingly from the ignition, but Aleta couldn't bear to open the car door and grab them. There was no way that she was going near that car. She shuddered again and walked away quickly.

“Mommy?” Inigo asked, confused about what his mother had seen that was so terrible.

“Come on, we're almost there, we're almost safe,” she said, more for herself than her son. As they walked away, she tried to put the body in the truck behind her mentally like she was doing physically, but it was hard. She had never seen a dead human body before and every time she thought about it, her stomach rolled dangerously. Those dead eyes followed her and it took all of her will power not to throw up.

Thirty seven minutes later, the river showed itself in the distance. Inigo became fixated on the huge mass of dark water while Aleta focused on the fork in the road ahead. A sign told her that the docks were to the left and the next town, Solpanos was on the right.

The small road to the docks was just as desolate as the road they had found leaving the forest. The water level of the river was still high, but it was no longer overflowing, which filled Aleta with hope. There were five small docks but only one boat, a massive bright green river boat with the words `Emerald Seas' written in gold on the side. All of the other boats were long gone and she felt herself start to panic. What if Nicolao had already left? There was nothing else there and she didn't think that Solpanos was far away enough to make a difference. The river was still high, but Aleta wasn't a mariner and didn't know if the river was passable, but it was feasible that Nicolao had left and realistically, considering what had been going on, she didn't blame him.

Inigo broke away from her and ran towards the green boat.

“Inigo, stop!” Alta cried, worried that he would trip and fall into the river.

“Mr. Nicolao!” he began to yell. Aleta winced, her survival instincts telling her to stop him before someone came to investigate, but her common sense told her that there was no one around to hear him. Still, after all of the close calls they had had, it felt wrong to allow him to make so much noise. She cursed herself for leaving the car. It was so stupid, she had let her fears control her actions again. It would have been nice to have some place to hide.

The cabin of the boat swung open and a very tall, very tattooed man came out. Aleta took a step back at the strangeness of him. His height was enough to make her wary of him, but his tattoos were something else entirely. Black stripes, like tribal markings, trailed from each side of his eyes, the space in between them was a dark yellow color, much paler than the rest of his dark brown skin. His entire body was tattooed with large, black spots set in a very familiar pattern, though she couldn't remember where she had seen it before. His stomach was tattooed with speckles of yellow, brown, and black and there was a huge, puckered scar there. The fact that he was only wearing a pair of baggy pants only made him seem more imposing as she saw that he was decently muscled. His hair was short, slightly spiky, and mussed from sleep, the mass a strange mix of yellow, green, and a brownish-green that was the exact color of the river and his left ear was pierced with three silver rings. As he had walked from the darkness of the cabin to the bright afternoon, he squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his messy hair. As he got used to the bright sunlight he blinked his eyes open and Aleta saw that they were a strange color some where between yellow and olive green. He yawned, revealing two sharp, fang like front teeth and a very pale, pink tongue that had a thin white scar running right through the middle of it. His face was exotic in a way that Aleta couldn't place and, despite his scars and tattoos, found him to be very attractive, but he also terrified her. Inigo, however, felt no such fear. He had never seen real tattoos before and was fascinated with the patterned ink covering the man's body. The man's surreal appearance soothed the five year old. Ingo reasoned that such an odd looking man couldn't possibly find him strange. Aleta, realizing that her son was not going to run back to her, carefully walked to Inigo, her gaze fixed on the man, waiting for him to make any sudden movements, but he didn't.

“Are you Mr. Nicolao?” Inigo asked curiously. The man grinned down at him toothily, making Inigo's mother flinch.

“That be me, little fox,” the man said cheerfully, descending the ramp to the cock and got on his knees to shake Inigo's hand.

“And you must be the infamous Inigo!” Nicolao exclaimed excitedly, “I di'n't think you'd be so early, but always better early than late as my pap used to say!”

Aleta knew that she should get her child away from this scary man, but she stayed frozen in his fierce stare as he seemed to finally notice her presence. His hand dwarfed Inigo's and Aleta thought, horrified, that he could break that little arm easily.

Aleta was relieved when he let go of Inigo's hand, but her breath caught in her throat as he rose to his feet and fixed his yellowish gaze on her.

“A-are you really N-Nicolao?” she squeaked.

“Yep!” And you must be Ms. Santiago,” still grinning, he tipped an imaginary hat and Aleta blushed, noting his use of `Ms.' and not `Mrs.' He noticed her fearful look and his smile softened a little.

“Don't worry, I don't bite `less I'm provoked,” he teased and she relaxed at the joke. Then she remembered his two, sharp, upper teeth and wasn't so sure that it was a joke.

“Well, come along then,” he said and walked back on to the boat.

“W-what do you mean?!” she sputtered he smirked at her.

“The two of you look a bit tired. I'll be able to shove off tomorrow, but the rapids are a bit much today, but I'm sure ya'll feel much better rested and fed. `Sides, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let the two of you stay out here, bakin' in the sun now, would I? I live on this boat, so's a bathroom, some beds, and plenty of food. I'll keep ya's nice and safe from anyone unsavory lookin' fer ya,” he gestured towards the cabin. Aleta bit her lip, but followed Inigo up the ramp. She put Marcos against Nicolao in her mind and, no matter what scenario she came up with, she realized that Marcos wouldn't stand a chance against this man and that made her feel oddly safe. She and her five year old son were going to hide out in a rickety old wooden boat with a very mysterious, dangerous man to stay out of the way of her insane husband and the insane town that she had lived in most of her life. She had never been in such an unreal situation. She had no business feeling safe, but she did. This was Dr. Roberts' friend… but she had problems equating the kind doctor with this rough river rat. But, despite his appearance, he was kind, welcoming two complete strangers into his home just because a friend had asked him to.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Inigo suddenly asked meekly.

“Sure thing, kiddo, I'll show you where it is,” Nicolao said, escorting Aleta and Inigo past the first two doors of the cabin to the third. The `Emerald Seas' was like any other river boat, it was large and the `cabin' was a large, square structure in the middle of the boat that consisted of two small bedrooms, a room filled with miscellaneous supplies like rope, a first aid kit, and life jackets, a very tiny, almost primitive, kitchen, and a bathroom. On top of the cabin was the control room and not much else. It was small and simple, but it was functional.

After Inigo was done in the bathroom, Nicolao showed them around his boat and they ended up in what Nicolao jokingly called his living room in the wide open space in the back of the boat. It really did look like someone's living room with the whole area covered in a mosquito net, tables and chairs, and even in stereo. She saw that Inigo was comfortable on the couch, accepting some sun lotions from their host and spread it on her son's sunburned skin. Nicolao left them alone for a few minutes, allowing Aleta to sit down and finally let their situation soak in. They were safe here, safer than they had ever been at home. That was enough for her. She hadn't actually thought that things would have turned out so easily, but she was glad that it had turned out that way. She wanted to question what Nicolao was getting out of this, but he wasn't going out of his way enough to make her feel guilty about it and he wasn't putting himself in danger. Roberts had said that Nicolao was leaving anyway and that they were going to be his last customers, so she didn't feel like they were forcing him into anything. She just hoped that she would be able to pay for the trip, plus the food and dodging. That thought brought another painful one; what exactly were they going to do when they got away from Manaus? Where were they going to live and how where they going to buy a house? They could rent a room for a little while, but Aleta refused to deny Inigo a normal living. She would have to get a job, but she wasn't sure that she would be able to support both herself and her child. How was she going to educate him? Did she dare send him to school or could she attempt to do it herself? How, when she, herself, knew so little? The task of being a single mother seemed impossible to her. She took a deep breath. One step at a time, she reminded herself. She would find away to take care of Inigo, she had to. She felt Inigo place his small hand on top of her own.

“It's ok, Mommy. Nicolao's one of the good guys, we'll be alright!” Inigo exclaimed cheerfully and, looking into his soft amber eyes, she didn't question his belief, she believed him. Aleta sunk into her cushioned chair, her legs and feet throbbing. She decided that she didn't want to leave this chair every again. Her muscles, both in her legs and back, were stiff and she couldn't wait to return to normal. This sort of lethargic indulgence felt strange to her considering that they had been running and hiding for days.

Nicolao returned wearing a clean pair of pants and a green faded t-shirt with two tall glasses of ice water. Aleta downed hers in large gulps, the cool water soothing her chapped lips and dry mouth while Inigo was content to sip at the water. Nicolao sat down next to Inigo on the sofa and Aleta found that his proximity to her son no longer bothered her. She somehow knew that, despite his appearance, he wouldn't harm either of them. He still made her nervous, but she couldn't figure out why. She knew why she trusted him, though. For one, she trusted Roberts and she trusted his judgment. He had said that Nicolao was a good man and she believed him. Second, not once had Nicolao looked at Inigo with confusion or suspicion. He looked at Inigo like he would have any normal child and she knew that he was no more disturbed by Inigo's looks than Inigo was of Nicolao's.

“I think I'll use the bathroom, too,” she said, smiling and left, knowing that her child would be safe with the strange man.

 

Nicolao stared off into the distance as though he were keeping watch, and he probably was. Inigo swung his legs, enjoying the odd, mutual companionship that he felt between himself and the grown man. It was strange, but he felt even more comfortable around Nicolao than he had Jake.

“I like your tattoos,” Inigo said as he watched the black markings shimmer in the sun. The ink was strange; it looked smooth and shiny, reflecting the sun better than his skin. Nicolao stared at Inigo, weighing him in his stare.

“These ain't tattoos, kiddo, they're birth marks,” Nicolao said, watching the red head very closely. Inigo's eyes widened in an almost comical expression.

“But, let that be our secret, huh, little wolfie?”

Inigo paled at the nick name. He knew. He looked into Nicolao's yellow eyes and suddenly realized why he felt so comfortable around him.

“Our secret, right?” Inigo asked in a small voice. Nicolao nodded and patted Inigo's head.

“Yep. I think it would be best if your Mom didn't know.”

Inigo let it all wash over him. He should have been terrified that someone knew his darkest secret, but he wasn't. For some reason, he knew that Nicolao would keep it a secret, though one thing that bothered Inigo was how he knew. Still, he did know, and what was more was Nicolao's attitude towards the information. It was like he had just found out that it was going to rain, he was treating it like a normal fact of life. Would his mother react the same way? He didn't think so. She was pretty tolerant, but finding out that he was a freak would be a bit much, even for her. Having someone know but not be shocked or angry at him made him feel lighter.

“Can I touch them?” he asked, looking at the black spots on Nicolao' arm. The older man grinned and extended his arm to the child.

“Sure thing.”

Inigo ran his pale fingers over the black marks, finding them both hard and smooth, like scales.

“Wow,” he murmured.

 

Aleta, painfully, finished her business and washed her hands, taking the time to wash her arms and face clear of the dirt. She closed her eyes and just reveled in the feeling of `clean'. After having her little secret moment of calm and indulgence, she left the bathroom. When she returned to the sitting area, she found that Nicolao and Inigo were animatedly discussing the benefits between beef and fish and how fish shouldn't be called `meat'. She rolled her eyes. She sat back down in her chair, wincing as her legs throbbed as she bent her knees.

“Rest your feet,” Nicolao said, gesturing to the table.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her manners telling her that ladies did not put their bare feet on their hosts' tables, but when Nicolao nodded, she quenched that little voice and sighed in relief as she put her feet on the table.

“Do you only serve as a ferry to people, Nicolao, or do you have another job?” she asked. She wondered what he would do when he left Manaus.

“No, Ma'am, I also fish and sell `em at different town markets and help folks get nasty critters out of their homes.”

Aleta stared at him incredulously while Nicolao seemed to have risen even more in Inigo's eyes at having handled animals and doing something so dangerous.

“Oh, was that a joke?” Aleta asked nervously. Nicolao laughed.

“No, Miss, I've gotten rich off of getting' poisonous snakes out of people's toilets.”

“Then, you're a professional snake handler?” Aleta asked. Nicolao grinned.

“Nope, just a man dumb enough to do a few people some good natured favors and unfortunate enough to be labeled `handy man' afterwards. I'm also just dumb enough to be willing to be paid to get bitten, scratched, and stung by all creatures along this river, great or small.” Aleta was taken back by his apparent kindness in helping others with something that was not really his job and his bravery at handling dangerous animals. She wondered if that was how he had gotten the scar on his stomach.

“Are you married?” she continued to ask him questions, wanting to learn more about their host and hoped that she didn't sound like she was grilling him.

“Yep,” Nicolao said, not bothered by her questions. She stared at him. She had a hard time imagining this wild man as a husband. She blushed. She couldn't imagine what his wife was like…

“But, where is she?” she asked, hoping that she wasn't opening up old wounds.

“Oh, she lives in Clover Fields, `bout three days east from here. Durin' the rainy season or whenever I'm over in that direction, I live there. It's where I'm headed when I make my leave with you folks.”

Aleta frowned, her eyes getting a far away look.

“She must be very lonely without her husband.”

Nicolao smiled softly.

“She's a good lady. She didn't trust Manaus, too much of a small town thinkin', but she knew that this was the best way for me to make a livin'. She understands me and I love her. It's true, livin' on the river away from her is lonely, but we do what we have to do to get by.”

Inigo wasn't a hundred percent sure what Nicolao and his mother were talking about, but he knew what love was and he knew that the love they were talking about wasn't like the love he felt for his mother. One thing he was sure of, he was never going to get involved with something that made everyone so sad.

“But, what will you do if you're moving away from Manaus? Won't you be out of a job?” Aleta asked. Nicolao just smiled confidently.

“It's a big river, Ma'am, and folks like you will always need folks like me to give a helpin' hand,” he said, “now, how's about you tell me where you're headin'?”

Aleta was silent as she thought about that. She hadn't been out of Manaus since long before she had married Marcos. She had no idea where they were going to go or what they were going to do when they got there. She had been telling herself to deal with things as they came, but realistically, she had to come up with some sort of plan. She couldn't just tell Nicolao to float around until she found someplace. Nicolao's gaze was sympathetic as she couldn't come up with anything to tell him. Then there was the plague… would it stay isolated in Manaus? How far could she go to escape their problems? She just didn't know anymore. She had tried so hard to get to this point, but now that she was here, she didn't know what to do.

“How about Sturjes?” Nicolao suggested.

“But… that's five days away, at least, and it's in the west!” she protested, remembering that Nicolao was planning on going east. Nicolao shrugged off her concerns.

“That doesn't matter any. Sturjes is a good place with good people. Close knit, yes, but not as close minded as Manaus. `Sides, I got a friend in Sturjes that would be willing to help ya.”

Aleta knew very little about Sturjes and had never been there, but liked the sound of it already. With no more boats leaving Manaus, the people would be trapped there for a few days at the very least. By then, they would be long gone and the chance of anyone finding them was very small. She had met a few people from Sturjes and knew that they were they were keen on minding their own business. But five days on the river? Still, after the week they had been having, it didn't sound that bad. It was a stupid thought but out here on the river, nothing could touch them. She looked over to her son. Inigo looked more relaxed than she had seen him since he was a baby, settled on the sofa, sipping at his water and looking up into the deep blue skies as a pair of parrots flew over the boat. She studied him, her heart filled with a mixture of pain and love. She should have done this back when she knew that she was pregnant. She never should have exposed her baby to his family's hate. No child should have to deal with that, especially not one as sweet as Inigo. She was always amazed that a kind boy like him had blossomed from the ugliness that had spawned him. He was so beautiful, inside and out, and despite all that he had been through, he was strong and smart. She had eventually seen all of Marcos and Maria in her other children, but not an ounce of them in Inigo. He was different, special, and she just wished that she could be a better mother for him. He looked unconcerned about spending such a long time on the river, but he hadn't put up much of a fight about leaving home, either. Had that place ever been home? That house had seen a lot of good times, the birth of her other six children, many, many anniversaries and birthday parties, but then Inigo had been born and things had gone so wrong… At first it had all been about protecting her child, her conscience making it nearly impossible for her to abandon or kill her child for any reason. At that time, she had thought that she could make things work out and that, surely, her family would love her child. Now, though, it was about protecting Inigo and she was able to see that they had been on this road since he was conceived and there was nothing she could have done to stop it. That seemed so hopeless, but since it took the guilt out of her hands, it was also very relaxing.

Aleta nodded, finally coming to a conclusion.

“Sturjes sounds fine, but do they have any hotels?” she asked, uncertain. They had a destination, and that was all fine and good but they had nowhere to stay.

“How much money do you have?” he asked.

“About twenty thousand.”

Nicolao frowned.

“You might be able to live off of that for awhile, but not long, even a hotel room is fairly expensive.”

Aleta clenched her hands in her lap. She hated feeling this vulnerable. She had never been without roots before and it was a terrible place to live. She wanted to believe that if she could just find a home, everything else would fall into place. She knew, logically, that they couldn't hide away from the world, and they shouldn't, either, but she still wished that they could.

“But, like I said before, I do know someone from Sturjes that would be willing to help you.” Aleta immediately perked up.

“Really? But why?” she asked suspiciously. Were all of Nicolao's friends generous and kind like Nicolao himself and Roberts or was this `friend' of his looking for some sort of gratification? She shuddered mentally. What if this man wanted something from her? Just how far was she willing to go to protect Inigo? She glanced over at him again. He had tucked his legs under him and placed his empty glass on the table. His eyes were starting to droop and, after all of this excitement, she knew that he was going to be asleep in a matter of hours. It made her wish that she was a child again, to be able to go to sleep knowing that her parents would make everything ok by the time that she woke up, but that time was long gone and now she was the responsible parent and what a terrifying concept that was! She still felt like the same girl she had always been. It was amazing that someone like her could be called either `responsible' or `parent'. She certainly didn't think that she could ever hold power over anything, let alone the safety and well being of a child. Inigo stifled a little yawn and leaned his warm body against hers. She smiled down at her and rubbed her hand against his hair.

Yes, she would do anything for him, even something disgusting, something against her very nature. She was not a violent person, but she remembered how she had attacked her husband and threatened her mother in law. If she had done those things, she could do anything where Inigo was concerned, she was sure.

“She'll help you because you have the ability to help her as well,” Nicolao said. Aleta blushed as she realized that she had been making assumptions about Nicolao's friend. Just because it was a `she' instead of a `he' didn't mean anything, but for some reason, it made her feel better. Nicolao's gaze was piercing and knowing and Aleta blushed deeper as she realized that he had known what she was thinking. She knew that his friend could easily take advantage of her and she would do anything that she wanted but she, foolishly, instantly felt better about having another woman helping her. When was the last time she had a true female companion? She couldn't remember. All of her friends and family had turned their backs on her once she had decided to keep her seventh child.

“Her name is Isa Tiaolo. I met her during one of my travels there, dropping off a girl who lived there who had traveled to Manaus to see her aunt. One of Isa's brothers is a ferry man further down the river and she has a small interest in it. Her family used to live in Sturjes, but they moved out of Brazil to Argentina six years ago. Isa refused to move with them, but when she heard about what was happening in Manaus, she finally decided to join them. The only problem is that she has been unable to sell her house. It's her family's home and she refuses to leave until she can get someone trust worthy to take care of it.”

Aleta's eyes widened.

“But she doesn't even know me! She can't just give me her home, can she?” she protested. Nicolao shrugged.

“She owns the house, so she can do what she wants with it, I suppose. I'm just sayin', you need a home, she has one and needs it taken out of her hands. Your need for some place to live will probably be enough for her. As long as you don't end up blowing the house up and are happy there, that'll be enough for her. If it isn't, well, I'll figure something out fer ya.”

Aleta shook her head, feeling tears prick at her tired eyes.

“I don't know how to thank you for helping us,” she murmured. Nicolao snorted.

“It's not a big deal. I's leaving here anyway and talkin' to Isa isn't any trouble. Just deal with it, Ms, go with the flow and take care of ya kid, that's all you have to worry about.”

He smiled kindly as he looked at Inigo.

“Looks like the both of ya could take a nap. I'll show ya to yer room,” he stood up. Aleta looked down at her son and her smile echoed their host's. The little redhead was fast asleep against her.

She gently picked him up and cradled him against her. He made a small sound of protest in his sleep at being lifted, but simply butted his head against her chest like a sleepy kitten and settled down.

Their room only had one bed, but it was big enough for the both of them. She was sure that Nicolao had an air mattress somewhere she had been transporting families, but she felt no need to ask for one, over the past few days she had become accustomed to Inigo sleeping by her and knew that once this ritual stopped, she wouldn't be able to sleep. The warmth of that tiny body, the reality of him, was something of a comfort. But, even as she tucked Inigo into the bed and settled next to him, she couldn't fall asleep.

Aleta blinked her eyes open as she heard a very familiar voice swearing from far off. She stared up at the ceiling, confused. This wasn't the forest or even their house, so where… she sat up quickly as the last few hours came back to her. The last thing that she remembered was tossing and turning, trying to sleep until her exhaustion finally overwhelmed her busy mind. She wondered how long she had slept. As she looked around the small room, she noticed that Inigo was still beside her, but he was also wide awake.

“Mommy, why is Mr. Nicolao swearing?” Inigo asked. Aleta listened closely to the yelling that was going on outside. The familiar voice definitely belonged to Nicolao. What she couldn't figure out was why he was cursing. She was torn between not wanting for Inigo to see (or hear) what was going on and not wanting to leave him alone. She remembered what had happened when Inigo had been alone with his siblings and her fear of being separated from him won out. As they left the cabin and walked to the back of the boat, she had expected to see Nicolao wrestling with some big, burly thug from town that had managed to track them there or perhaps some huge animal. What she didn't expect was his sitting on the floor nursing a bleeding hand and swearing at a homemade, broken fishing rod. He looked up sheepishly at them.

“S'rry. Di'n't mean to wake y'all.”

“What happened?” Inigo asked, his eyes wide at the sight of all the blood. Nicolao picked himself off the floor.

“Don't worry yerself, little man. I thought I'd get some fresh fish fer you folks and instead hooked myself a whopper of a caiman. I figured, make lemons with lemonade, y'know?”

Aleta seemed disgusted and curious at the idea of eating a caiman.

“You can eat one of those things?” she asked doubtfully. He smiled brightly at her.

“Of course! One of my favorite things, really. Tore off more than I could chew, tho', this time. L'l' sucker bit clean thro' the line. Banged my hand on the whiplash, too.”

Aleta blanched at the thought of them eating reptile. Nicolao marched over to the supply closed and dressed his wound. He then walked to the very back of the boat and peeled off his shirt. Aleta blushed, not sure what was going on, but nervous at the look in his eyes.

“What are you going to do?” Inigo asked with wide eyes.

“I'm gonna catch it and kill it, course,” Nicolao said as he stepped up onto the edge of the boat.

“But you could be killed!” Aleta cried, “Besides, it doesn't even matter, we have plenty of food!”

“No, ma'am, that lizard broke me favorite pole, this is personal,” he said with a toothy grin and dived into the water. As he descended, his shadowy form became long and twisted until it was completely distorted by the murky water.

Aleta's eyes watched for him frantically when the minutes passed and Nicolao didn't come back up. Was he dead? Eaten or drowned? How stupid! If he died, they would be stuck here!

“It's ok, Mom,” Inigo said. Aleta sighed in frustration.

“People die, Inigo. Especially stupid men who feel the need to wrestle with large, dangerous animals!” she said angrily.

“But he won't be killed by it, he can't,” Inigo insisted. Aleta shook her head. She knew that her son was being silly but she didn't correct him like she would have her other children.

A huge, long shadow shot towards the surface, but before Aleta could scream in shock as it got closer to the surface, the shadow diminished and it was Nicolao that came through the water, not some huge aquatic beast. She breathed a small relieved breath and admitted to herself that she had been worried about him and not just because he was the only way out of Manaus. With one hand he grabbed the side of his boat and with the other he flung a dead caiman onto the deck. Despite herself, Aleta looked at the dead reptile. Its eyes were open and staring, blood red from burst blood vessels and its body looked pulverized as though it had had its bones broken. Nicolao hauled himself out of the water and shook his wet, spiky hair like a soaked dog, making Inigo laugh as he got hit by the water droplets. Aleta's eyes were transfixed by the crooked teeth of the caiman and the mangled fishing line dangling from its jaws. With no weapons, how had Nicolao killed it? How had he found the exact same caiman through the dark murky waters? Her curiosity begged her to ask these questions, but she didn't. She didn't want to give Nicolao any reason to revoke his hospitality, besides, those questions weren't really all that important in the scheme of things. Inigo watched the reptile in curiosity. The biggest animal he had ever seen was one of his father's bulls and while the caiman wasn't nearly as big, it was much more impressive. He wondered if such a thing could be eaten, considering how thick its skin was and how would it taste? Like fish, maybe? Nicolao dragged his kill to an old table that had been pushed off to the side and was riddled with nicks and deep cuts. Aleta turned away as Nicolao took a cleaver out of the bin of various tools underneath the table and started to hack away at the body using a lot force to tear through the thick skin, but she put a hand on Inigo's head to keep him from getting too close to the sharp object wielding man.

“Why don'cha sit down and relax while I make ya dinner?” Nicolao winked at Aleta, “And don't worry miss, I got plenty of food. I'll grab some chicken from the fridge and make ya something special. The little man and I will have some of this, unless you want some chicken with yer ma?” he asked Inigo. Inigo shook his head.

“I wanna try it,” he said excitedly. Aleta relaxed, realizing that Nicolao wasn't really going to make her eat anything weird. She looked at Inigo worriedly, but knew that there were few things that he didn't like.

“Can you teach me how to fish?” Inigo asked. Nicolao smiled at him as he started to gut the caiman.

“Sure, kiddo. It's real easy, ya just got to have patience.”

“I've got lots of that!”

Aleta smiled. It would be good for Inigo to have something to do.

 

Aleta tried her hardest to stay out of Nicolao's way as he made them dinner, but she still ached to help him. It was something that was going to be hard to get over for her. As promised, Nicolao gave her some chicken sandwiches and some sort of salad and he and Inigo ate roasted caiman meat with some rice. According to Inigo, it was very good, but Aleta still, politely, refused to eat any of it. Nicolao was obviously not a five star chef and their meal was very simple, but it was tasty and filling and at the moment, that was all that mattered to her. She went to bed with her son curled up at her side thinking, despite her caution, that they just might get out of Manaus alive after all.

 

Inigo was brought out of his slumber as the full moon shone through the tiny window of the cabin. He turned on his side and tried to fall back to sleep, but it was useless, he didn't feel tired anymore. He slipped out from under his mother's arm and left the cabin.

Nicolao was still awake and was on the deck, leaning against the guard rail and was staring into the star filled sky. The older man looked at him and his eyes glowed gold. White Christmas lights were strung up in the canopy that held up the mosquito net and they cast a glow on the water like shimmering fireflies.

“What are you doing up, short stuff?” he asked and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed tired and weary, but it was quickly gone, shielded by a bitter smirk.

“Can't sleep,” Inigo said, rubbing at his eyes. Nicolao nodded.

“You and me both,” he murmured, looking back up at the sky. Inigo stood at his side and followed his gaze.

“It's so pretty,” Inigo said in wonder. Nicolao crossed his arms on the rail and laid his head on them.

“Sky's about the same wherever you go, I s'pose,” he looked down at Inigo, “but I guess that you won't be missing this town very much.”

Inigo squirmed with guilt at the truth of that statement. He tried to dredge up some regret for leaving his home town. He thought of the town and shops and his home with the old, wooden doors and his comfy bed, but he didn't really feel anything for it. Out of comfort's sake, he would probably miss it a little, but everything that he had truly loved, he had brought with him. It made him feel so wrong, not missing his father or siblings.

“They tried, didn't they?” Inigo asked, unsure. He liked to believe that his family and neighbors had tried to accept him and he had simply been too young to see it. Nicolao's smirk disappeared and was replaced with a much darker look.

“Not hard enough. Not nearly hard enough.”

“What am I? Am I human or a monster?” Inigo suddenly asked. Nicolao ran a hand through his spiky hair and sighed.

“I'm no biologist. I don't really know what you are and I'm really not the person to ask those questions.”

Inigo bit his lip, questions wanting to spill out at having someone who could understand him. He was frustrated that Nicolao couldn't tell him anything, but relieved that he wasn't the only one confused.

“But am I bad?” Inigo asked. Nicolao smiled down at him.

“That I can answer,” Nicolao looked into Inigo's amber eyes, “you ever kill a person? Want to hurt someone?”

Inigo shook his head.

“Well, then you aren't bad. Trust me, kid, there are much more evil people in this world, in this town then you could ever be,” Nicolao's eyes got a glazed look as though he was thinking of something far away.

Nicolao's words soothed Inigo's worries, but he was still unsure and he thought that that feeling would never go away, even when he was an adult. But, his mother was sure, Jake was sure, and now Nicolao was sure and that was enough for him. After all, Nicolao was `different', too, but Inigo didn't think that he was evil. Nicolao continued to look haunted, thinking about something that was obviously troubling to him, when they heard a loud splash and they both jumped. Inigo grabbed Nicolao's hand, the larger fingers curling over his small hand protectively and Nicolao pushed Inigo behind his leg.

“What was that?” Inigo asked, his eyes wide in fear. Nicolao smiled at him, but even the child could tell how fake it was.

“J's a fish. Now, come on. G't back to bed before your momma starts think that I let you fall overboard,” Nicolao said as he led him by the hand back to the cabin. Inigo looked back towards the water. His senses screamed at him that there was something wrong out there, or at least something bigger than a fish, but he really didn't want to know what had made that splash, so he let Nicolao open the door for him.

“'Night, Nicolao.”

“'Night, Inigo,” Nicolao ruffled Inigo's hair and closed the door behind him as the boy slowly and carefully crawled back into bed so he didn't disturb his sleeping mother. With a sigh, he returned to the back of the boat. He looked out onto the water, through the darkness. He sniffed at the air, sat down in one of the chairs, and waited. The silence of the night was broken only by an orchestra of crickets and the sound of gentle waves rocking against the side of the boat as the current moved past. He sniffed at the air again and stood. The moon's glow was slightly distorted by the mosquito net, but it was enough as he pulled the plug on the lights and rooted around in the bin under the table for a flashlight. He found a large, powerful one in which the batteries still worked and shone it over the water until the light finally caught something. Stuck in the edge of the boat by the slow, lazy current was the shockingly pale form of a man, his throat open and bare, exploded outward as though he had swallowed a small grenade. The wound was gaping and clear in the flashlight's ray, the blood having been washed away. He sighed deeply again and grabbed a hooked pole that he used to free the anchor ropes and slipped it under the net, poking the body and dislodged it. He watched as the current took it past the boat and it floated out of sight, into the darkness. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his other hand pressed, subconsciously, to the scar on his stomach. It had come again.

“It's time,” he murmured.

`Love, I'll be there soon, please wait for me.'

 

They were moving. That was Aleta's first thought as she awoke late that following morning. At first, the thought only existed as a simple fact in the back of her mind, but as sleep vanished, little by little, it started to rise higher and higher until it was screaming at her. She sat up straight, panicked. Why were they moving? She turned to her side to wake her son, but he was gone and the spot where he had been was already cool. She swung her legs over the bed and ran out of the cabin, not caring how her long, flimsy night gown wrapped around her legs and almost tripped her.

Nicolao's cabin was exactly the way that it had been yesterday and the bed appeared to have not been slept in, while the kitchen was a complete mess of dirty dishes and the stove was wide open and cooling, but none of this information registered with her, all she knew was that Inigo wasn't there and everything else was unimportant. The back deck and dock were similarly empty and she climbed up into the control room, almost falling off the ladder as her gown tangled around her ankles. The door to the room was open and she sagged against it as she was greeted to the sight of Nicolao, sitting at the controls with Inigo balanced on his knees, her son's small hands clutching one of the long levers.

“So, if I pull this one, that makes it stop?” Inigo asked.

“Yep. You know now how ta drive. Not so hard now, is it?” Nicolao said.

“INIGO SANTIAGO!” Aleta screamed. Nicolao and Inigo jumped at the loud yell. Nicolao automatically wrapped an arm around Inigo's waist to protect him from falling. The two of them blinked at Aleta guilty, though neither was quite sure what they had done wrong. Aleta stumbled towards Inigo and fell onto her knees in front of them.

“Please stop scaring me like this, baby,” she said breathlessly. Inigo nodded and hugged her.

“Sorry, mommy.”

Aleta sighed and glared half heartedly at Nicolao who grinned sheepishly at her.

“Morning, ma'am. S'rry `bout scarin' you. I thought y'd want to be out of here as soon as possible, so I started h'r up as soon as I saw it was passible and the motor woke Inigo up. I thought it would be a shame to wake you, so I kept `im with me and showed him the controls. I hope that's ok.”

Aleta sighed.

“I'm sorry I reacted like that, it's just been a trying couple of days and I'm still on edge.”

Nicolao smiled at her.

“Well, the both of you are safe now.”

Aleta looked out the window at the wide, brownish expanse of water and brilliant green jungles in the distance. They really were out. She finally allowed joy to fill her. Nothing could touch them here. They had gotten out, for the most part, intact.

“How long have we been moving?” she asked.

“About two house,” he said, looking at the clock.

“We'll only need to stop for gas once, in two days. There's a little village with mostly fishermen, but they know me.”

Aleta nodded. Inigo lost interest in their conversation and walked down the ladder, running into the cabin.

“Think you can keep a five year old entertained for that long?” Nicolao teased. Aleta smiled.

“I think that, between the two of us, we can figure something else,” she said, leaving the control room and descended to the deck. She placed her hands on the guard rail and looked out over the water. It was so beautiful here, so peaceful, she had forgotten all about the wilderness that lay outside of the town. She had forgotten that there were kind people like Nicolao out there as well. A light breeze ruffled her hair. She closed her eyes as she felt the air brush against her face and she tucked her short hair behind her ear. She wondered what the people in Sturjes were like and if they would have a home when they got there. She wondered how she was going to get a job and how Inigo was going to survive without a father. Though, she supposed that he had survived without a proper one so far.

Inigo immerged from the cabin with one of his sketch books tucked under his arm and carrying a bunch of colored pencils. He sat down in one of the chairs and started to draw, looking off into the jungle, but his eyes were glazed as though he wasn't really seeing it. Soon, the sound of his furious scribbling filled the quiet morning. Aleta abandoned her spot by the rail and sat down next to Inigo. She watched as a macaw flew overhead and monkeys chattered over her as the boat sailed under some low hanging branches. Hours passed and Nicolao didn't come out of the control room. She wondered why he hadn't gone to bed last night.

Aleta snuck a glance at Inigo's picture and stifled a gasp. The picture was… horrible, a far cr from the still lives and drawings of animals straight from the mind of a five year old who had never seen the world that he usually drew. In the center of the picture was what looked like a tiny fox with a brilliant silver deer standing over it, protecting it. The two of them were surrounded by violet-black shadows and a figure loomed over the both of them; huge, dark, and grotesquely distorted, what Aleta assumed was it's head was wide open in a gaping snarl, though it clearly had no eyes. A long green shape that looked like a huge snake was off in the distance, too far away to protect the red and silver pair. The ground of the picture looked like water, but it was mostly red streaked with black and blue and the doe seemed to be sinking into it. Aleta looked over the river they were on and shuddered deeply, though she didn't know why.

“Inigo… why would you draw that?” she asked, scared for some reason. Inigo looked up at her, startled, as though he hadn't realized that she was there, then looked back at his drawing, his eyes haunted.

“I dreamed it,” he murmured, returning to the drawing. Aleta watched him, alarmed. She had known that he had been having bad dreams, but this seemed so… disturbing. Looking at that shadowed form drawn with the black pencil she had brought her son, she was glad that they had left Manaus, but she still felt a chill.

 

The day passed in boredom as Inigo moved on to draw the silver fish that seemed to follow the boat and Aleta sat next to him, sipping at the sun tea that Nicolao had made for her and read one of the books she had found in his room, with his permission, of course. She could tell that most of the time on the river would be spent this way, but in a strange way, the laziness was nice, though she knew that it wouldn't last for very long.

Nicolao left the control room and spent a few hours teaching Inigo how to fish using bits of raw chicken, two long sticks, and left over fishing line. All they caught were some little grey fish and grogs, but Inigo appeared to have fun with it. Aleta smiled half heartedly as she wondered why it was easy for Nicolao when it had been so hard for Marcos. They ate a quiet dinner of trout together and went to bed when Inigo couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

 

He was drowning. He couldn't breath. As he opened his mouth to gasp for air, only water flooded in and he gulped it down, trying to scream. Everything burned in a cold fire. He could taste blood in his throat. Something terrible was moving through the black water ahead of him, but he couldn't see it, his eyes hurt too much. He struggled in the water. He didn't want to be here, he wanted air! But, his body refused to move and he started to sink down like a stone into the dark, frigid depths.

 

“Mommy!” Inigo screamed in his sleep, jarring Aleta from hers. She automatically untangled him from the sheets as he thrashed and held him tightly.

“Ssh, baby, its ok,” she murmured, rocking him back and forth as he sobbed into her shoulder, but started to settle down. It was just a nightmare, she thought, her heart pounding.

“Don't leave me, promise me you won't leave me alone!” he cried, shaking in her arms.

“Alright, sweetie, I promise, I'll never abandon you! I promise!” she said strongly, rubbing his back in little circles.

 

 

Day 5: Thursday

 

The three of them fell into a ritual over the five days that they were together. Nicolao would get up before Aleta and Inigo and would do any of his duties as a captain that he needed to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE 5/29/08: I'll give a virtual cookie to anyone who can guess what Nicolao's secret is (at this point it should be pretty obvious). He is one of many characters/scenes that were not in the original script, but he has been in my head for awhile. Nicolao is just one of many minor characters that will be popping up and I'm thinking of giving them their own spin off novels. Maybe in the far off future…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

¹Uroborus is an ancient serpent who swallows its own tail and forms a circle. Symbolically it means unity or an immortal, perfect being. However, it can also symbolize a relationship that `eats itself', or two people who continually devour each other until there is nothing left.

 

 

About Portuguese Dishes: I hope this at least somewhat correct. Piri is actually a kind of chili pepper that bread is sometimes made with. In Portuguese culture, the bread is either eaten first or last, but not with the actual breakfast meal. It is served with butter, cheese, or preserves. I chose cheese, cause I think that it is interesting and I've never seen it done in my household. I chose the serra da estrela. This cheese is very strong in flavor and is made with fresh sheep's milk and thistle rennet. Yoghurt is also a popular for breakfast, but is not the kind of yoghurt that Americans eat; it is homemade and usually made with soy milk. It is usually plain or spiced with something, not usually with fruit in it. Malasadas are a type of Portuguese doughnut that usually don't have filling and never are ringed or have holes. Sweet pastries are very popular for breakfast.

Now, about the lunch/dinner. Some families only have two large meals a day and some have many meals, it all depends on where you live and where your ancestors came from, I chose the Santiago's to only have two large meals just because I'm lazy. I don't like spicy food and I've never really tried Portuguese food, but I have had blood pudding, and it doesn't taste how it sounds, it's all very good. Now, then, Cabidela. Cabidela is made with either chicken or rabbit. When the animal is killed, it is hung upside down and the blood is drained out for later use. Rice is then cooked together with the meat and blood. I'm amazed at how some people think that that is gross. I actually think that the greasy hamburgers and veal that we eat is worse. Alcatra I have actually had and it is soooo good. During the Middle Ages in Portugal, meat was seen as a status symbol. If you were really, really rich, you'd serve whole oxen with whole chickens as a side dish. The literal meaning of the word `alcatra' is an expensive cut of meat, but in Portuguese cuisine, this word is used to describe a dish in that in is beef marinated in red wine and garlic and then roasted. This dish is very rare, so I imagine that the Santiago's wouldn't have it a lot and Inigo would see this some Americans would see lobster or certain types of steak. This dish is also served with clams, but since they are living in Brazil, this would be very expensive, so they wouldn't eat it a lot. Aletria is dessert, but it is also pasta. The past is thinner than spaghetti and the pasta is set in an egg custard and stenciled with cinnamon power. Tripas is another word for tripe, or cow or sheep stomach, and Túbaros, or animelles, also known as Rocky Mountain oysters, are ram, sheep, bull, or boar testicles. Recently, this dish has grown less popular amongst Portuguese dishes and more popular in French and Italian. So, if anyone offers you mountain oysters, remember this: there are no oysters in the mountains.

Açorda is composed of mashed bread with garlic, coriander, olive oil, water, salt, eggs, and sometimes shrimp or codfish.

Alheira is sausage made from duck, pork, chicken, rabbit, and bread. It was made by the Jewish during the Inquisition so they could deceive prosecutors into thinking they were eating pork when the sausage was really made with other meat, so it was ok for them to have. It can also be made with turkey or partridge. Bizarrely, Alheira is also the name of a municipality in Barcelos. Alheira can be cooked in many ways, even fried, and is usually served with rice and vegetables, sometimes eggs.

*The Brazilian currency is the real and is, as of May 2007, worth 1.74 U.S. dollars. The way you write out the real is R$ and instead of a decimal point, it's a comma. If Inigo has been saving money for two years and got $5 dollars a month, that means that his R$ 208,8 is really $120. Not bad for a five year old. Though, since he hasn't spent any of it in two years, it's plausible and remember that Inigo's birthday is coming up in September. So, he's been saving since he was four.