Sheila felt as if she were on a boat wildly pitching in extremely rough seas. Her insides heaved. The world seemed to swirl around her. She held onto a thick stalk of the bush to keep from toppling over. Pajaro had murdered two men right in front of her eyes. Nothing she had ever seen on TV or in the movies could have prepared her for the reality of murder. She sat in absolutely stunned silence.
The lifeless bodies lay in the sun drenched opening. She forced herself to look at them. Much to her surprise, there was something almost peaceful and holy about them. She wondered if they’d been Catholic and if they’d been baptized and taken communion. “How long has it been since your last confession?” If they had spirits, their spirits had moved on to another world, where they may or may not have met their maker. Perhaps they’d entered that world as naked as they’d entered this one, their bodies left behind and the good or evil they’d done in this one washed away by Christ’s sacrifice. It didn’t seem right to Sheila that the two dead men and Vilar and even Pajaro should be given a ticket to ride.
“You look like hell,” Pajaro said. “Let’s move out. We’ll make camp and eat as soon as I can find a good spot.”
He checked the shelter half to make sure the snakes were gone and put it into his pack. Not long after they started off, voices came from behind them. They sat down carefully and watched the men wrap the bodies and shoulder them for the trek back to Vilar’s camp. When they were gone, the forest became deeply quiet, as it had been for millions of years. Again Sheila was struck with how puny and meaningless human lives were in the scheme of things.
“This is as good a place as any,” Pajaro said.
They made camp inside another huge, thick bush that was hollowed out inside where lack of sunlight had caused inner branches to die back.
“Better not risk a fire,” he said.
They ate military rations.
“The spaghetti isn’t bad cold.”
He tore open a vacuum pack, poured a little water from his canteen into it, and handed it to her. She pulled the plastic fork from the side and ate. He made the same for himself. They ate in silence. Then he took the nearly empty pouch from her and handed her two others.
“What’s this?” she said.
“My favorite dessert. Peaches in heavy syrup and crackers.”
She sat up and said, “My husband at peaches and crackers when he was in Vietnam.”
“No shit,” Pajaro said, “When was your husband in country?”
All of the old language from their war years came flooding back. “He was in Nam end of sixty-eight and part of sixty-nine.”
“So we were both there for TET. Nasty business. What was his MOS?”
“LRRP.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. I was a LRRP.”
“Were you at Cu-Chi?”
“Further north. I spent a lot of time in Cambodia.”
“William worked the Ho Chi Minh Trail and the Saigon River.”
“The whole place was fucked up. So was the whole fucking war.”
“I guess that’s why a lot of guys did drugs.”
“Not me. Too dangerous. What with Charlie out to get me and all. Started after I came home. Civilian life was more fucked up than Nam and the war rolled in one.”
“William had a hard time when he came back, too.”
“You stick with him?”
“’Til the day he died.”
“You deserve a fucking Medal of Honor.”
Sheila took a spoonful of the peaches and a bite of cracker. Smooth and crunchy mixed with sweet and salty. It couldn’t have tasted any better if it had been prepared by a five star chef. As she ate, she wondered what was going on back in the world. After a few moments, her thoughts were interrupted by a thrashing sound rushing toward them. The big, brown and black head of a bloodhound poked into their camp. Folds of skin drooped over sad eyes. Its nose twitched, taking in everything.
“Must have smelled the food.” Pajaro opened his canteen and gave the dog some water. Then he let him eat the rest of his peaches and crackers. He followed that with another drink. The dog circled around a couple of times and settled against Pajaro’s side.
“Looks like you’ve got a friend.”
He laughed as he petted the bloodhound and said, “If women were more like dogs, one of my marriages probably would have survived.” After a moment he added, “I didn’t mean that you…fuck…no wonder I couldn’t keep a woman.”
“So what’s the plan?” Sheila said.
“Rest until nightfall and then move out. We should be in Mateo by morning.”
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