Marjorie Thelen - The Hieroglyphic Staircase

He considered their alternatives. He had a gun in the backpack slung over his shoulder, but the gun was useless since he couldn’t access it. On the other hand, he was physically bigger than José. The smaller man stood between them and freedom. The image of Jorge’s body at the base of the Staircase flashed across his mind. Jorge had fallen. The same ugly fate might await José. If he could push José over the side, it was a long way down that stone wall. He’d have to overpower him and soon. Dominic stopped.

“What now? Do you see her?” asked José.

“I thought I saw something move over there,” said Dominic. He pointed in the direction of the movement he had seen. “Let’s walk over and see. Maybe it’s Elena. Maybe she’s hurt.”

José stretched his neck, stepping closer to Dominic, squinting into the distance. Where Dominic stopped, the path ran perilously close to the edge of the wall. José was on his left closest to the edge.

“Where? I don’t see anything,” said José. He glanced around maybe thinking Paco might be close by.

“There. I saw something behind that stone wall.”

Dominic raised his left arm to point, and in the same motion he shoved his elbow into the side of José’s head with all the force he could garner. Bone connected with bone. José tilted to the left, his right arm with the gun going up. A loud retort carried over the Park as the gun went off into the air. Dominic swiveled and, as the policeman fell backward toward the edge, brought his leg up into José’s chest.

José tried to catch Dominic’s foot but missed as his arms flailed wildly into nothing but air. The gun dropped in his struggle to gain his balance. He lost the struggle and pitched sideways down the steep wall, his scream piercing the air.

Dominic had fallen on his side at the edge of the wall, narrowly missing going over the edge himself. He pulled back from the precipice, crawling on hands and knees until he was back on the path. Miguel helped Dominic stand, brushing twigs and dirt from his clothes.

“ Fantastico .” said Miguel. A huge grin spread across his face, and he gave two thumbs up.

Dominic hooked his fingers on his hips, trying to catch his breath, staring at the ground, oblivious to Miguel and his surroundings. He had never tried to harm someone before, and his capacity for violence shocked him. He had pushed a man to his death. Kill or be killed, the law of the jungle. He held onto Miguel’s shoulder and shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. They had to find Elena. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted, “Elena, where are you? It’s Dominic. Where are you?”

He listened and Miguel did, too, both looking around the Park from their vantage point high above it. The sound of footsteps running caught Dominic’s ear, and he turned to see Paco come up the path from below.

“What happened?” Paco asked.

Dominic pointed to the body of José sprawled below. “He had a gun on us. I pushed him.”

Paco nodded. “I’ve had my doubts about him but couldn’t find any concrete evidence. He’ll wait. Let’s look for Elena.”

“She may have gone up over the pyramid like I did,” said Miguel.

Dominic said, “I saw movement over there. Let’s look.”

All three shouted Elena’s name, over and over. The stones of the pyramids echoed with the sound. Dominic led the way to the wall where he saw the flash of movement. Maybe he had dreamed it. Maybe she had already left the Park.

Then he saw motion in the great plaza far below.

A slim figure moved from the shadow of a stone structure to the open space of the plaza, limping around fallen tree limbs and toppled stones.

Elena waved and shouted his name.

His prayers had been answered. His request granted.

“Dominic,” she said. “Here I am.”

His hand high over his head, he waved back.

And then she collapsed onto the ground.

Dominic sat at the kitchen table with a beer and a bag of potato chips, trying to fill the giant cavern in his stomach. His bare feet rested in a puddle of water, one of many on the floor in his house on Loma Verde Street.

The house had survived. But water had seeped through every aperture in the place. The journey back from the Hieroglyphic Staircase had taken the better part of the day. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten from the top of the pyramid to where Elena had collapsed. As he’d knelt by her side, feeling for pulse, checking her injuries, Elena had opened her eyes.

“Dominic,” she said.

He kissed her forehead. “You’re safe, dear Elena.”

One corner of her mouth turned up. “I know. You’re here.”

Paco reported that Jorge and José were both dead. The realization that he had caused someone’s demise sobered Dominic. But seeing how badly Elena was hurt took away any sympathy he might have felt for the dead men. He made Elena as comfortable as possible with what little he had in his backpack — acetaminophen tablets, three bars of chocolate split between the four of them, and one bottle of water. Miguel was physically unharmed, but he stayed pressed to Dominic, needing a reassuring touch. They rested, Elena at first too weak to walk the jungle trail, the only alternative open to town. Her second wind came after it finally sank in that the ordeal was over.

When he heard the bathroom door open, he called, “I’m in the kitchen.”

Elena appeared in the doorway in a clean white T-shirt and pair of drawstring shorts. They were the only things he could find in his wardrobe that came close to fitting.

She eased into the chair across from him. Her damp hair fanned over her shoulders.

“Hi,” she said.

He smiled and held up his bottle. “Want a warm beer?”

“I’d love one. Got anything to eat? My appetite is coming on like a hurricane.”

He squeezed her hand. “Since the power is still out, we’d better finish whatever is edible in the icebox. It won’t keep.”

He pulled a beer from the fridge, opened it and sat it before her on the table.

He couldn’t resist touching her hair. He brushed the back of his fingers across her puffy cheek.

“Does it hurt much?”

She shook her head. “No, it feels numb. Do you have any ice?”

Dominic opened the freezer and found tiny pieces in the ice tray. He put them in a paper towel and handed them to her.

“Here, this is all there is, but maybe it will help.”

“Thanks.” She placed the cool compress against her eye. “It’s not being able to see out of this eye that is the worst.”

He touched her hair again to confirm she wasn’t a dream.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

“I’m glad it’s over. It is over, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I promise you it is.” He caressed her shoulder. The ordeal was over, but he wasn’t sure about the nightmares.

“Let’s get you something to eat.”

He warmed beans and tortillas on the gas stove and fixed a plate for each with salsa picante and slices of cheese on the side.

“A feast,” she said, happily. She took a careful bite of cheese. “Ow, it hurts to chew.”

“Take it easy,” he said, sitting at the table across from her.

“Have any butter for the tortillas?”

He laughed and fetched some from the butter-keep on the counter by the stove.

“Mmm,” she said. “Tortillas and butter, the best.”

Dominic fixed coffee after they finished.

“Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked with a hopeful raise of her eyebrows.

“No, darling, I do not.”

She sighed. “Too bad, I could use one right now.”

Dominic lit the votive candle on the refrigerator alter to the Virgin of Suyapa. He said a little prayer of thanksgiving to the Virgin for Elena’s safe deliverance. He had not forgotten his bargain with God. Elena was safe. He would again become a priest in the Episcopal Church. He always kept a bargain.