Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

The priest clears his throat again.

“It’s a truck and now it really is coming closer,” Jimmy whispers.

Clemen cups his hand behind his ear.

“You’re right,” he whispers, then swallows hard. “It’s the National Guard. ”

“Or the army. ”

“It stopped. It’s about two hundred yards away.”

“Troop transport,” Jimmy murmurs, wide awake now. He sits up, pushes off his sheet, and picks up the gun.

“You think it’s coming here?”

“I hope not,” Jimmy whispers.

“Why did it stop?”

Jimmy remains alert; he barely shrugs his shoulders.

“They keep revving it, as if they’re waiting for someone,” Clemen whispers; he is squirming, anxious. “Could they be doing a house-to-house search?”

“We must be prepared. ” Jimmy says.

“How? What do you plan to do?”

“If they come in the house, we’ll retreat into that corner,” Jimmy whispers, pointing to a spot in the back of the attic.

“Don’t go shooting off your gun or they’ll kill both of us,” Clemen whispers, right then scurrying toward that corner.

As he moves, nervous, his knee hits the glass of water.

“Shit. the water spilled.”

“Was it full?”

“No. ” Clemen whispers, curled up in the corner.

“I hope it doesn’t seep through the wood.”

“I don’t think it will. Here they come. Listen.”

The roar of the engine approaches the house.

“Keep driving, keep driving. ” Clemen mumbles as if he were praying.

“Shhh. ”

The truck has stopped in front of the house. Orders ring out, there are loud footsteps. Knocks on the door.

“Open up. National Guard.”

“It’s not here,” Jimmy whispers. “It’s the house across the street.”

Clemen is paralyzed, his face full of terror.

They hear the priest’s bed creaking; they see a ray of light through a crack in the floor. Then they hear the priest’s slow footsteps to the front door.

“What’s he doing? Why is he opening the door when they haven’t knocked here?” Clemen groans.

“Shhh. ”

The priest has opened the door.

“Why all the racket, Sergeant Marvin? Did something happen?”

“Good evening, Father.” The sergeant’s voice sounds heavy, as if his words were sticking together. “Sorry for the disturbance, we’re just alerting the residents because we’ve received information that several communist traitors are hiding out in this zone. ”

“At this time of night?”

“Yes, Father. We just got word. Some officers who were at the Ilopango Airport during the rebellion. They say they came in this direction.”

“Come over here, Sergeant.”

“Yes, Father.”

From up above, they hear the footsteps enter the living room. Clemen squeezes into the corner; Jimmy doesn’t budge.

“You have been drinking on duty, Sergeant,” the priest says curtly, with reproach.

“No, Father Dionisio, just one little drink, I swear, just to make the long night easier.”

“One drink. Don’t swear in vain, Sergeant, and don’t go around frightening people in the middle of the night, this is Holy Week and it will be your fault if they get too scared to come out for the processions. ”

“No, Father. I’m just warning the residents in my zone. I’m just following orders. And the girls?”

Jimmy and Clemen look at each other.

“They are sleeping, son. At this time of night only lost souls stay awake.”

The footsteps move back toward the front door.

“May God be with you, Sergeant. And rest assured. if I hear of any strangers in the vicinity, you will be the first to know. ”

“Not all of them are strangers, Father,” he says, lowering his voice, as if he were telling him a secret. “My lieutenant suspects that one of the colonel’s grandsons, the one who insulted the general on the radio, came here to hide out. ”

Clemen tries to make himself even smaller and opens his eyes big and round like two saucers; Jimmy gestures with his hand for him to calm down.

“If that happened, the colonel himself would turn him in,” the priest says, with a slightly indignant, disapproving tone. “The colonel is more loyal to the general than all the rest of you put together. And don’t you forget that.”

Now out on the sidewalk, the priest issues a warning:

“Be careful with that truck, don’t go destroying the carpet of petals the congregation has made such an effort to spread around the streets.”

They hear the sergeant shout out orders, some running steps, the truck door slamming, then the engine revving up. The truck pulls away; the priest stays at the door.

“Good night, Father Dionisio.,” a voice sounds, from afar, not the sergeant’s.

“It’s the neighbor across the street,” Jimmy whispers.

“Good night, son. Go back to bed. ”

When the priest closes the door, Clemen lets out a loud fart.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Jimmy looks at him with disgust and brings his hand to his nose.

The priest has crossed his room; his bed creaks, the ray of light shining through the crack in the floor disappears; after clearing his throat, he sighs:

“Thank the Lord!”

In the darkness, Jimmy’s eyes shine with the desire to strike Clemen down.

“You’re disgusting,” he whispers, without removing his hand from his nose.

Clemen moves very carefully back to his mat; then he whispers:

“Fuck, what a nightmare. You think they’ll come back?”

“I hope not.”

“How could that lieutenant have found out I came here?”

“The sergeant said his lieutenant suspected, he didn’t say he’d found anything out,” Jimmy whispers as he straightens out his mat. “And the priest warned us about this lieutenant, that he has it in for your grandfather, though he can’t do anything because of his rank.”

“So, why did they come precisely to this house?”

“They were scoping out the area. You heard him.”

“Too many coincidences. ”

“Maybe the sergeant made such a big to-do because he likes one of the priest’s girls,” Jimmy wonders out loud.

Clemen keeps staring at him with astonishment, as if suddenly he too understood.

“It’s true. He asked about them. ” he whispers, and then, in a mischievous tone and bringing his hands to his genitals, he adds, “The one who served us dinner is just about ripe for the plucking. You think the priest has had her?”

“Shhh. He’s going to hear you. The things you think of. ”

“She would feel so good.,” he sighs, without letting go of his crotch.

They grow quiet. The night is cooler. A cricket begins to sing inside the attic, near the piles of junk.

“I’m not tired anymore,” Jimmy mutters.

The priest is snoring again.

“She’s going to turn us in.,” Clemen whispers, suddenly quite agitated.

“Who?”

“The little Indian girl who served us our dinner, the one who’s ready to be plucked. ”

“She doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“I bet the sergeant will come to court her when the priest isn’t here, and she’ll tell him that two strangers had dinner here.”

“I’ll warn the priest, but he said they were completely under his control.”

“Nobody controls women, least of all when the priest is out of the house at the processions all week.”

“You’re right.”

“If that sergeant starts sniffing around the house,” Clemen whispers, anxious, “it won’t take him long to find us.”

“We’ve got to leave here as soon as possible.”

“But, where?” Clemen moans.

“The colonel and the priest will find you someplace more remote, further up in the mountains. And I should continue with my own plans. ”