American Drifter

  He feared sleep; hated sleep. He should have thanked Guillermo and his family and left—and slept somewhere along the way.

  Sleep meant dreams.

  They came so often now. More and more …

  And he did dream. The dream seemed to pick up where the last dream had left off.

  Earth, dirt, and powder filled the air. There was that mist—the dark mist made of the destroyed earth. But lying with his ears ringing and half blinded from the sting in his eyes, he could still see them.

  The woman …

  He couldn’t quite see her face.

  And the child. The beautiful child … golden, laughing, so sweet as she moved. They came toward him as if there weren’t bombs everywhere, as if men weren’t screaming.

  As if they weren’t dying.

  He didn’t know why he awoke; he just did. And when he did and looked up, he saw a face—a child’s face.

  For a moment he lay there frozen, just staring at her.

  Then little Anna grinned and said, “Fox, chicken, cat—farmer!”

  “Very good,” he told her.

  “Very good!” she agreed, and ran off to tell her parents that she was awake.

  He could smell something good coming from the kitchen; it was very early, he thought, but this was a farm. And children had to go to school.

  He rose quickly. He was still sore, but nothing like he’d been before. He tested his ankle and it seemed much better as well. His sketchpad was still at the side of his backpack and he reached over to put it back in.

  His service revolver fell out as he did so. He moved to slide it back in as well, but noted then that he wasn’t alone in the room.

  Guillermo was there. He had come to call him to breakfast.

  He saw the gun.

  And now he looked at River with suspicion in his eyes.

  River thrust the gun into the backpack. He met Guillermo’s eyes. “I would never hurt your family—I would never hurt anyone on purpose who wasn’t … hurting someone else.”

  He didn’t know if the man understood him or his tone—or if he remained horrified.

  Vera came out to the living room. She looked oddly at them both.

  The children came scampering out.

  “What’s going on?” Juan demanded. “Breakfast is ready. Come, River, we’ll have breakfast.”

  River slowly shook his head. “I have to go,” he said.

  He didn’t understand Guillermo’s sentences, but he knew that the man agreed with him. Yes, this man has to go.

  Anna cried out with a little, “Nâo!”

  “Breakfast! You must have breakfast first,” Juan said.

  His father said something and Juan’s shoulders slumped in dejection. “He says that you will miss your ride.”

  “It’s true,” River said. “And I—I have to find my love, you know?”

  The children ran to him. Guillermo looked as if he would reach out to stop them but he didn’t. He waited; he watched.

  The children hugged him; River hugged them in return. He looked at Guillermo and Vera. “I can never say thank you enough. Obrigado, obrigado.”

  The two nodded. Vera stood very close to her husband. She couldn’t understand yet what had changed.

  She just knew that it had.

  River reached for his pack. He was afraid to dig into it—Guillermo might think that he was going for his gun.

  But he had a few bills stuck in a side pocket. He managed to slip them out and turned to the big leather sofa. Pretending to plump the pillow, he slipped the bills beneath it.

  Vera, he hoped, would find the money.

  She was a mother. She wouldn’t cast it away as an offense or ill-gotten gains.

  She would use it for her children.

  “Thank you,” River said one last time.

  Guillermo pointed to the southwest. River nodded; he would go that way to hitch a ride back into the city.

  He left the house. He heard them speaking for a few minutes as he walked away. The children were going to miss him. Vera was still confused. But someone said something that lightened the mood.

  He left, listening to the haunting sound of a child’s laughter on the air.

  CHAPTER 19

  Though Guillermo had been afraid of him when he left—or, at the very least, wary of him—River didn’t believe that the farmer intended to call the police on him. And if the men in the blue suits came stumbling upon the lone farmhouse there, Guillermo would most probably be too cautious to say that he’d seen anyone.

  River believed that the men were heading north still—in the direction he’d been heading until his turnaround.

  As he walked to the road, grateful for his time at the farmhouse, since he felt so much better and could move again, he started pondering Natal’s whereabouts again. His heart beat too quickly when he allowed himself to wonder if she’d been picked up by the men in blue suits. He didn’t think so—she had made her escape before he had seen them. He could imagine that she had gotten up—taking her bag with her precious computer with her—and headed to the car ahead of theirs that had a little café. She had seen the men then; she had been too smart to come back.

  No, she had eluded them.

  And she would have known that he had to elude them as well.

  His plan was the right one. Head back to the statue. The outstretched arms of the Christ the Redeemer statue seemed to be perfect for the city. Despite Tio Amato, River loved Rio—and he knew that Natal did too. The Christ the Redeemer statue encompassed all that was good and joyous and loving about Rio de Janeiro. People wanted to like their neighbors—they even wanted to like strangers. They were giving, and they opened their arms to the world.

  Yes, the statue. They both loved it so.

  His ankle was barely tender—Vera had wrought wonders. Or maybe it had been the hours in which he had stayed off it. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he could walk. He didn’t, however, want to walk forever.

  He wondered too if he should look for the farmer Guillermo had suggested. To play it safe, he decided that he’d be careful about which ride he’d accept. Not that he believed a man like Guillermo would ever willingly cause harm to another. But because he might be questioned, and if the men in blue suits did turn out to be criminal henchmen at the beck and call of Tio Amato, Guillermo might have to tell him that River had been there—and what he had advised River to do.

  He was hovering between the tree line and the embankment along the narrow two-lane road that ran among the scattered farms in the area when he saw that a van was coming. There were several young people in it.

  It was old and beat-up. From the antenna, he could see that the van sported a Brazilian flag—and the American flag.

  He hurried up the embankment and stepped out onto the road and lifted a hand.

  The van pulled to the side of the road. A young man was driving. He had light hair and bright blue eyes.

  “Where are you going?” the man asked, and then quickly asked the same question in very bad Portuguese.

  But a blond girl leaned over to the driver’s seat. “American?” she asked River.

  “Yes, I am,” he said. “I’m heading to Rio.”

  “We’re not going that far,” the girl said. “But we can take you partway.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Open the sliding door and pop on in. Marty and Alicia are in the back; I’m Susan and this is Blake.”

  He said hello to all of them. The couple in the back were young too. They appeared to be in their early twenties. Alicia had raven-dark hair and an accent when she spoke.

  “Brazilian?” he asked her.

  “Mutt,” she said dryly. “We’re on a special study program from NYU. My parents are in the U.S. but my mother was born in Brasília. My father is half Cuban and half American, and I spent most of my time growing up in New Jersey.”

  “Nice,” he told her. He turned to Marty.

  Marty laughed and lifted his hands. “Nothin
g exotic about me. Jewish boy from the Bronx.” River shook his hand.

  “Atlanta,” Susan said, lifting a hand and waving from the front.

  “Detroit,” Blake offered. “And you?”

  River was glad that he was preoccupied by angling out of his backpack because, for the life of him, he suddenly couldn’t remember where he was really from.

  “All over,” he said.

  “Ah, army brat?” Marty asked.

  “Something like that,” River agreed. “What kind of special study?”

  “We’re social science majors,” Alicia replied. “We’re going into some of the rainforests and meeting with indigenous tribes.”

  “That sounds fascinating.”

  “Oh, it will be. We’re here for three months; we’ll get to see so much. I’m sorry we won’t be able to take you all the way, but we’re right around Espírito Santo now. We can get you down as far as Campos. We’re about ten hours away—and then you’ll only have a few more.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Not so kind,” Blake said. “I’ve been driving for hours and we’re all taking turns. You feel like driving? I mean, you have a license? You drive, right?”

  “Yes—of course,” River said. He was a good driver, but he was still surprised. If they had a rental agreement, the slightest accident—even with a chicken truck—could be real trouble for him.

  But Blake, driving to the embankment so they could exchange places, grinned at him. “You look concerned. Don’t be. It’s not a rental. We picked it up from Alicia’s uncle in Natal. Altogether, man, from there, it’s about a twenty-five-hour drive. If you’re up and awake and in for it, you can take her for the next few hours!”

  “Sure, of course. I can put in for gas too,” River told him.

  “Now, you’re the best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up,” Blake said.

  For a while, when he started driving, his new foursome of friends chatted about themselves and their studies. They considered themselves incredibly lucky that Alicia had relatives in the country—it made it cheaper for them. Alicia talked about Brasília—how modern and new and big everything was—and Blake argued that São Paolo and Rio were his favorite cities because they weren’t new and big and modern.

  They talked about the amazing wonders of the country. Alicia hadn’t been to Santarém, their destination, a city of about a quarter of a million people where the Amazon and Tapajós rivers met. From there, guides would take them out into the rainforest.

  River listened to them talk. And, to his amazement, while he hadn’t been to the places they were talking about, he was able to converse easily.

  He’d done a lot of reading on the country.

  “You’ve been here awhile?” Alicia asked.

  “Yes, awhile. I should have gotten further,” he told her.

  “Yeah, well, you find something you like and you stay in one place easily,” Marty said.

  “Oh, please, we stay in places because of people,” Susan put in.

  “Or,” Blake teased, “we go places because of people.”

  “So that’s it,” Marty said, leaning forward. “There’s a girl in Rio.”

  “There is a girl in Rio,” River admitted. He was surprised that he was smiling—maybe a little foolishly. But it was nice, he realized, to be with these young people.

  They reminded him that he was still fairly young. And that it was natural to want to be with someone you cared about. And it was actually fun to have them tease him about Natal. He described her in glowing terms.

  “She’s stunning. She has huge blue eyes and her lashes are rich and dark and her hair … it’s glorious. When they say raven’s wing—that is the color of Natal’s hair. Her cheeks are high; she has a perfect nose. She’s about five-seven, slim—but beautifully shaped, mind you. Honestly, it’s not just the way she looks—it’s the way she moves. It’s that mischief in her eyes, or the sorrow and the anger in them when she’s seen an injustice. She writes—she writes about the world around her and what she sees and thinks. She’s … amazing,” River told them.

  Susan gave Blake a swat on the shoulder. “You should talk about me like that.”

  “I do,” Blake protested.

  “Wow. I know why you’re going to Rio,” Marty told him dryly.

  “Hey, you,” Alicia protested. She slapped his arm.

  “Okay, okay—wait,” Marty said. “My girl is … well, beautiful.”

  “Very good. Go on,” Alicia said.

  “She’s got dark hair and a pretty face.”

  “Never mind. Don’t go on—that’s terrible,” Alicia said. “Blake—what do you have to say about Susan?”

  “Oh, well, she’s beautiful, of course,” Blake said.

  “Standard start—let’s see what else you’ve got,” Marty said dryly.

  “Well, she’s blond. And energetic and athletic and—”

  “Stop! Athletic?” Susan said.

  “That’s not good?” Blake asked.

  “Hopeless,” Susan said.

  “Yes, the two of you just keep quiet,” Alicia advised.

  “I’m just saying,” Marty protested. “Come on, Alicia. I mean, I don’t have to go to Rio—I have you right here. Hey, River—way to make us look bad.”

  “Sorry!” River said. “I just—”

  “Don’t make it worse,” Blake teased.

  “You two are making it worse—you just don’t sound the same,” Susan said, sighing. She remained in the front seat next to River and spoke to him sincerely. “I’m so happy for you—and for your gorgeous beloved. Are you two going to celebrate Carnaval there?”

  “At this point, I guess we will,” River said.

  If Natal managed to get there.

  She would be there; she had avoided the men in the blue suits—she would be ahead of him. She would go every day to the statue.

  Until he found her.

  Or she found him.

  You will always find me, she had said.

  He smiled.

  “Look at him, Alicia—just when he thinks about her,” Susan said.

  Marty groaned from the back. “Okay, he’s poetic.”

  They laughed and teased awhile longer. Then, River realized, the foursome began to drift off. That was okay; he liked driving in silence as well.

  He kept his eye on the gas tank and the road signs, knowing he would have to stop. When he did, he put his backpack over his shoulder and went in to the store. He pumped gas and when he headed back to the driver’s seat, he saw that only Marty remained in the van.

  “Bathroom break,” Marty said. “You know girls. Well, and Blake too. No kidneys on that boy. I guess it will be easier for him, though, when we’re in the rainforest.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” River said.

  He stood by the van, waiting and watching.

  He was going to have to stop being so nervous; he was heading back to Rio. If there weren’t more of the blue-suited men there, the ones he knew about would figure out that he had headed back to the city.

  He and Natal would stay. Once he was with Natal again, they would make a new plan. Perhaps they would head to the rainforests too. A guide could take them and they could see the wonders of the Amazon River and meet indigenous people. In fact, it was something he was certain he had once dreamed of doing.

  “We’re back,” Susan said, opening the front passenger-seat door. “And I bought you a soda—they had them in bottles in there and I thought you might like one.”

  “Thank you,” River said. “What do I owe you?”

  “Don’t be silly—you bought gas and you’re doing the driving,” Susan said. Behind her, Blake and Alicia jumped back into the second row of seats.

  “You could have left that pack, man, I would have watched it,” Marty said.

  River was afraid that Marty had noticed his hesitation, but he quickly thought of an answer. “I needed money out of it—you know. To pay for the gas.”

  He revved the v
an back into gear and headed out to the highway. He’d been foolish. No men in blue suits had appeared at the station.

  They couldn’t possibly know where he was.

  He allowed himself to relax. Driving felt good. He didn’t remember the last time he had driven. You needed a credit card to rent a car—and he just didn’t use credit cards. It went against being a free spirit hiking his way through the country.

  The group in the van, awake now, sang.

  They accused one another of making up lyrics.

  They were entertaining.

  Then they began to drift off to sleep again.

  He drove with silence around him then, other than the chug of the van.

  Two hours later he felt Alicia’s touch on his shoulder. “We’re reaching the turnoff,” she said. “Would you like to come with us? We’re staying with an aunt for a few days.”

  “Oh, I would, but I really can’t,” River said.

  She smiled. “That’s right. You have a girl to get to in Rio.”

  He nodded and found a good place to pull off the road. When he did so, Alicia hopped out of the back door of the van and came around. No one else stirred.

  “Don’t worry, guys—I’ll do the driving now!” she said.

  She took the keys back from River. “When they wanted to stop for you, I told them no,” she said. “You know—you see all those movies about kids in the country and picking up a hitchhiker and the hitchhiker being a slasher and all, but … you’ve been great. You drove and got us here and you were fun and…” She paused, stood on her toes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you find your girl quickly. She’s very lucky.”

  “Thank you—thank you for the ride, and thank you for your words,” he said.

  She hopped into the van and turned the engine back on. “Happiness to you, River. All the happiness in the world.”

  He waved and the van headed off.

  Once again, he found himself watching from the side of the road before venturing out. He looked for trucks—he was pretty darned sure that the men in their designer blue suits were not driving a farmer’s truck.

  He saw a rusted old hulk coming down the road and he stepped out. The driver stopped for him. River wished him good day in Portuguese. He said, “Rio?”

  The farmer shrugged and said something, telling River he could hop into the bed.