Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

They are lying next to each other on the mats, a few feet apart.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“They went by while you were snoring, that’s why I woke you,” Clemen whispers.

“Have you been up for a while?”

“I had a nightmare.”

“You sure you heard troops marching by or was it part of your nightmare?”

“The nightmare woke me up a while ago, and the marching happened just a minute ago.”

“Strange. ” Jimmy whispers.

“Yeah, it is. I’m not imagining it.”

Downstairs they can hear Father Dionisio’s rhythmic snores; above, the wind is whistling through the trees.

“What time is it about?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to see in this darkness,” Jimmy whispers, and he takes his pocket watch out of this trousers.

“I’ve got matches.”

“Are you crazy? The reflection will show through the skylight.”

“You think?”

“We shouldn’t risk it.”

Jimmy sits up and holds the watch face up to the skylight.

“I could light a match close to the floor and shield it with my hands so nobody can see it outside,” Clemen whispers.

“It’s midnight. Twelve fifteen.”

“I thought it was later. We came up here really early.”

Jimmy has lain down again; he yawns and turns over to go back to sleep.

“The priest is right,” Clemen whispers. “Anybody would lose their mind stuck too long up here in this attic.”

“You’d better get used to it. It’s not going to be easy to find somewhere else.”

Clemen sighs.

“This is fucked,” he complains. “How could everything have gone so wrong?”

“Complaining won’t do you any good. Let’s just thank God they haven’t caught us.”

“You aren’t married and you don’t have kids, so what do you care? Poor Mila must be having a really hard time. ”

“I don’t think they’ll do anything to her,” Jimmy tries to comfort him. “They’re not going to involve either her or the kids.”

“And my poor old man, a prisoner. Who knows what they’ll do to him. ”

“He was in jail, so he couldn’t have known anything about the coup. The general wants us, the rebel officers. He’ll never forgive us for betraying him.”

“That damned motherfucking warlock has made a pact with the Devil,” Clemen says angrily, raising his voice.

“Shh. quiet down, you’re going to wake up the priest.”

Clemen tosses and turns on the mat, restless.

Jimmy feels around on the floor to make sure his gun is by his side. Then he whispers, talking to himself, as if trying to convince himself of something:

“If they catch me, I’m a dead man.”

“Are you really going to go off on your own?”

“I’m going to rest tonight, recover a little. I’ll ask the priest for detailed information about ways to get to the train tracks. And tomorrow at this time I’ll start off. ”

“You’re nuts. What if you meet up with a patrol?”

“That’s why I have this gun and why I’m a military man. I still have two clips.”

“They’re going to kill you. ”

“That’s the risk I’ll have to take,” Jimmy whispers. “When you get involved in the affairs of men, you’ve got to have balls. I told you Lieutenant Peña and I were surrounded, and we shot our way out. I’m not going to let them capture me.”

“You should stay here a few days until the situation clears up,” Clemen whispers, cautiously.

“The situation is already very clear. I’d rather take my chances on the move than holed up here like a rat.”

They hear noises in the street; heavy footsteps approach the house.

“Listen. They’re coming back.”

Jimmy has now sat up, wide awake, clutching his gun on his lap.

They remain silent while the marchers pass by; then they hear the voice of the commanding officer repeating as they march away: “One, two, one, two. ”

“It’s a patrol,” Jimmy whispers.

“National Guard. ”

“No, local forces,” Jimmy explains. “Didn’t you notice that some were marching out of rhythm?”

“Fuck, I’m scared shitless.”

“Shh. ”

They’ve gotten used to the darkness: Clemen can make out Jimmy’s hand pointing down, toward the room where the priest was snoring a moment before and that is now totally silent.

“Why are they out marching at this time of night?”

“Emergency patrols. There’s a curfew.”

“Don’t you think they’re trying to tell us they know we’re here?” Clemen groans.

“Calm down and lower your voice,” Jimmy orders in a whisper. “If they knew we were here they would have already come in and gotten us.”

Jimmy keeps listening intently, but the priest has started snoring again.

“Let’s keep quiet for a while until the priest falls back to sleep.”

“He must be scared to death, like we are. ”

“Shh. ”

Jimmy has lain down again; he places his gun next to the cushion he’s using as a pillow. They each have sheets and a glass of water. And they swept the floor.

“I’m not going to be able to fall asleep,” Clemen whispers.

“At least let me sleep.”

“I need whiskey.”

“Drink water.”

“It’ll just make me have to pee. And in this darkness, I might miss the can and it’ll end up all over the floor.”

The priest coughs, clears his throat, then turns over in bed.

“I told you: shut your trap,” Jimmy whispers, irritated. “Let us sleep.”

Clemen sits down. He feels around for his glass of water; he takes a sip. He stares at the dirty skylight.

“I wish we could see the sky,” he whispers. “Looking at the stars would distract me.”

Jimmy has turned his back to him.

Clemen stretches, then lies down, clasping his hands behind his neck.

Jimmy’s breathing becomes heavier, more rhythmic; he seems to have already fallen asleep.

“The minute I found out that the ambush had failed, and the warlock had managed to get to police headquarters, I had a premonition everything would fall apart.,” Clemen mumbles, bitterly, talking to himself. “But it wasn’t my fault.”

Suddenly, an owl hoots very close by, as if it were on the roof of the house. Clemen listens carefully: he hears a buzzing from afar.

Jimmy moves around on the mat.

“What wasn’t your fault?” he asks, curious.

Clemen sits up anxiously.

“I need a smoke,” he whispers.

“You know the priest asked us not to smoke up here.”

“But I’m really anxious. Did you hear that buzzing?”

“Sounds like an engine. ”

“Sounds like it’s coming closer.”

They both concentrate on the distant buzzing.

“It comes closer, then moves farther away,” Jimmy whispers. “But anyway, what were you talking about?”

“That it wasn’t my fault the son of a bitch went to police headquarters.”

“Who said it was?”

“That bastard Juan José, because I announced over the radio that only the police and the National Guard weren’t supporting the coup, and that’s why the bastard went straight to the Black Palace. ”

“I heard you say that,” Jimmy whispers.

“But everybody was saying it. And that bastard Juan José was the first to go on air when we took over the station, and he claimed that the general had been killed in the ambush on the highway to the port. ”

“You civilians always run off at the mouth.”

“And you military men don’t do jack shit. First you duped us with your deadly ambush that never was, then you supposedly had the Black Palace under siege, and then you let him slip right through your fingers like water. ”

“Shhh. keep your voice down.”

“That Juan José. accusing me. even Dr. Romero announced on the radio that the general was dead, and the National Guard and the police weren’t supporting us. We were all left in the lurch by you people.”