The rich aroma of coffee woke Sheila. Colombian, she assumed. She check to make sure her backpack still was stowed under the seat in front of her. then she accepted a cup of coffee and a danish from the flight attendant. She took a sip and decided it was the best she'd ever had. Describing it to Nicholas when she returned home would make her sound like a wine connoisseur. Full bodied without being aggressive. She took another sip and savored it. The danish was dried out and cold. She dunked it in the coffee and ate it eagerly.
"Pardon me," the man sitting next to her said in a thick Latin American accent. "I notice you're alone on the plane."
"I am," she said cautiously.
"May I ask if anyone is meeting you after we clear customs?"
Sheila hesitated to reveal such an important bit of information to a complete stranger.
"Let just say that the airport is a very dangerous place. Men dressed like...what is the English...porters...will offer to help you with your luggage. Most of them are thieves. So are most of the cab drivers. Many of the people at the luggage," he made a circular gesture with his hand.
"Carousel?"
"Yes. Men and women go there to steal bags."
"I didn't check any bags. I only have my purse and a backpack."
"There will be lots of pick pockets."
"I'll be very careful."
"My name is Jorge. if no one is meeting you, I would consider it an honor if you'd let me escort you to a safe cab."
He was a big man. Probably thirty-five or so. The thought crossed her mind that he could be a thief or worse, but that was ridiculous. She told him her name and said, "Thank you very much, Jorge, I'd appreciate your help."
After a moment she added, "I'm not going to get a cab. I'm going to take the bus toward Cali. I'm going to Mateo. It's a small town about half way there."
"I could lie to you, Senorita, and say that I am taking the same bus. But the truth is that my country, I've very embarrassed to admit, is not safe for travelers. Especially a woman traveling alone. My business is such that I will be in both cities. I would feel much better if you'd let me accompany you on the bus - after which I'll go on and take care of my work."
"What an extraordinary offer," Sheila said.
"Then it is agreed?"
Jorge was right. The airport was crowded with many more people than could have had a legitimate reason for being there. She held the medicine bag in fron with both arms keeping it tight against her. The airport was noisy, dusty, and filled with the smells body odor and spicy food. The sounds of announcements she couldn't understand and of thousands of people talking very rapidly in Spanish and other languages swirled around her. She heard the occasional cognate, but it was really quite disorienting. She was very happy that she'd agreed to let Jorge act as her guide and protector.
"Stay very close to me, por favor," he said. As they walked toward the customs inspectors, he helped her loop the strap of her purse over her head. He went through first. He greeted the inspector by shaking his hand and speaking to him very pointedly. She understood him to say that they were traveling together and that they had nothing to declare. When Jorge released the man's hand, it went straight into his pocket.
Jorge turned to her and lifted her purse so it was in front of her and above her waist. "Hold your pack close to your body to protect this," he said.
They were immediately engulfed by the crowd. He always seemed to know when someone or a team was going to jostle them. He'd put his body between her and the others. Sometimes he'd put his foot against them and pushed them back. He even punched the most aggressive. Sheila did her best not to loose her footing as she struggled along beside him. All the while he shouted what had to be curses. Finally they went out onto the sidewalk and the crush of people thinned a little, but the attempts to steal from them continued as they walked toward the bus for Cali.
Headlights and bumper sagged making it look as if it bore a sinister expression. Its green paint had given way to rust. No tread on the tires. Luggage, bags, boxes, and a very large crucifix stowed up top caused it to sink well down on its springs. Worst of all, the engine sounded as if it might conk out at any moment.
Jorge protected her from the crush of passengers trying to board. He shook hands with the driver ans said, "Mateo." The driver nodded. Jorge guided her to a pair of seats. He very generously insisted that she take the one next to the window. Sheila settled into the seat, keeping the pack of medicine on her lap. When every person possible had crammed themselves and their possessions and animals into the bus, others climbed on top and stood on the running board. Finally the bus, with much straining and grinding of gears, shuddered forward.
Sheila's heart thumped a couple of happy beats when she realized that in a few hours she'd be with her brother. Doctor Neill would have the tetracycline. People wouldn't die. The thought of that made her feel a tiny bit like a superhero.
She would stay over night and maybe even tomorrow night. But then she'd have to get back to one city or the other and fly home. Nicholas would be anxious about her and her sudden departure. In his own way, he looked after her, albeit in much less dire circumstances, as fully as she would permit. She tried to imagine Nicholas kicking people away and punching them to protect her. It was a bit of a stretch. But maybe not. No telling how a person might behave outside their normal realm.
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