The Day the Rebels Came to Town Read Free Page A

good.”
    “Don’t smell so good, neither. How’s the rest of you?”
    “Nothing compared to the foot. Please... can you help?”
    “Don’t worry. Probably just some bad spirits. They get stuck together and cause pain. Lucky for you I wasn’t busy. I’ll have you feeling better in a minute.”
    With a grunt, the old woman lowered her sack to the floor. Fishing around, she pulled out a glass bottle about the size of a deck of cards. The bottle was half-filled with clear liquid. She took out the tiny cork and moved toward Carlos.
    “Now, I’m gonna put this under your nose. When I say ‘go,’ you sniff.”
    She wiped the tip of the bottle on her filthy skirt and placed it inside his right nostril. “Go,” she said.
    Carlos sniffed sharply. A river of poison flowed into his lungs and up into his brain. Hecoughed and turned blue. A second after that, the room turned soft, as if it were filled with jelly. He swore he could hear music playing somewhere in the distance. He watched the pain in his foot turn into a pale green cloud and float out the door. But the best thing? The shame he felt for shooting himself slipped away. He felt as if it had never been there.
    “What was in... uh...”
    “Extracts,” answered the old woman. “Herbs mostly. A cactus stem or two. Maybe some mashed beetles. All mixed with a little ether.”
    Carlos felt himself floating out of his body, settling somewhere near the ceiling. He rolled over and looked down. As he watched, the old woman took the bandages off his foot. She reached into her bag and pulled out a clay pot. After prying off the lid, she scooped dark green slime onto Carlos’s foot while rocking back and forth. To Carlos, whose back was still against the ceiling, it looked as though the old woman had gone into a trance.
    When his foot was covered in goo, she reached into her bag and pulled out a bunch of dried twigs. She lit them with a match andshuffled around the room while chanting in a low voice. The air filled with the scent of burnt almonds.
    After a few minutes, she stopped. Again, she reached into her bag. This time, she pulled out a small brush and a pot filled with orange powder. She brushed this onto the top of Carlos’s foot.
    Just as she began to remove the green mud, Carlos found himself being pulled back into his body.
    “There,” she said with a grin. “All better. Your ribs and lip will take care of themselves. Your mood is up to you. Now get some rest.”

Chapter Four

    Three days passed. Mostly, Carlos slept. On the fourth morning, he awoke with a strange feeling. Though his head pounded and his ribs still hurt with each breath, the pain in his foot seemed to be gone. Gently, he moved his foot from side to side, something that would have caused him to scream before. He sat up and pulled his legs around. Tough moving still hurt, he could now picture the day when he would be better. With that thought, a moment of intense fear passed through him. He had come so, so close to dying. He had come so close to not being .
    “Linda,” he called.
    The village girl came running. He paused for a moment, looking at her. “Tell me something,”he said. “Why are you all being so nice to me here?”
    She tilted her head and grinned. A dimple formed on each cheek. She shrugged her shoulders.
    “Please,” he said. “Tell me.”
    Without looking at him, she said, “You made the bad men go away.”
    Carlos cheered silently. It was her accent. She really was from the South. “They went away on their own,” he said. “I had nothing to do with it. It was chance and nothing more. And by the way, call me Carlos.”
    She nodded.
    “Oh, and one other thing. I think my foot’s a bit better.”
    Later, Linda came back with a tall, thin man carrying a tape measure. He had an Adam’s apple the size of an egg.
    “Hello,” he said.
    “Hello,” said Carlos.
    “My name is Ramon. I am a wood worker.”
    “I am...”
    “Please,” he said. “I know who you are.