Free The Body of Martin Aguilera by Percival Everett

sky, then just the cap of Cepheus.
    He got into his car. He looked back into the office as he waited to pull into the street and saw Ernesto using the phone. He drove downtown and parked in front of De la Peña’s Restaurant, a few blocks from Salvador’s shop. He walked past the ice cream parlor, crossed the street and went down the alley to the back of the House of Boots. Ignacio and Salvador were waiting beside a pickup.
    â€œI thought somebody was coming with you,” Ignacio said.
    â€œNo, it’s just me.”
    Lewis didn’t think these men would hurt him, but he was glad he’d planted the suspicion that someone else knew with whom he was taking a ride. Salvador looked more nervous than the younger man.
    â€œTurn around,” Ignacio said, letting a scarf fall to its length from his hand. When Lewis complied, he wrapped it over his eyes and pulled it snug, as if to state again his disdain. Ignacio was a good five inches shorter than Lewis and so tied the scarf awkwardly low on the back of his head.
    â€œCan’t see a thing,” Lewis said.
    â€œLet’s go,” Salvador said.
    Lewis was helped into the truck. He sat between the two men. Lewis wondered if anyone would see and find interesting the sight of a blindfolded, black man seated between two Mexicans in a pickup in the middle of the night.
    Lewis caught himself instinctively trying to follow their route by noting turns and speed, but he stopped because he couldn’t keep it up and because he didn’t want to know where they were taking him. It was their secret and he didn’t want it. They made many turns, he thought, to confuse him. Once the sounds of other traffic were gone, the path was direct.
    They ended up on a washboard road. Dust floated freely through the cab. The truck skidded to a stop and Lewis was helped out. Someone was singing somewhere. Salvador talked to him, a hand on his shoulder.
    â€œLewis, this is a velorio de difunto and it is very important to us.”
    Lewis nodded, still blindfolded.
    â€œMany of our members will not like it that you are here. Many of them will not notice. You will see things that are sacred, private. Please see as little as you can.” The old man sighed. “Promise me you say nothing to anyone.”
    â€œYou have my word, Salvador. I have no wish to compromise you or your beliefs.”
    Ignacio pulled the scarf away from Lewis’ head.
    Lewis tried to aid his eyes in adjusting by opening them wide. He was standing in front of a one level adobe. A flame torch burned on either side of the doorway. There were several trucks and cars parked around in no particular order. The singing was coming from inside the building.
    â€œDo not look at anyone’s eyes, especially the rezador,” Ignacio said.
    Lewis didn’t understand.
    â€œThe singer.”
    Lewis nodded, frightened by Ignacio’s hostility.
    â€œIt would be best if you tried not to look at anyone at all,” Salvador said.
    â€œOkay.”
    Salvador and Ignacio looked at each other. Then Salvador led the way. Ignacio took Lewis’ arm. The room was lighted by more torches and the smell of incense was thick and sickly sweet. Figures moved about and Lewis tried not to see them or recognize them. He looked at Salvador’s back. He glanced ahead and saw the coffin, a simple, lidless box, but he couldn’t see the contents. The rezador was to the left of the coffin. Lewis caught his eyes drifting toward the chanting and pulled them back. Ignacio must have also detected the slip for he squeezed Lewis’ arm. Then, Lewis couldn’t help seeing the procession. Men marched in a wide circle around the body beating themselves. The beating kept time with the chanting. Most men used leather, one a chain. In the glow of the firelight Lewis saw two lacerated and bloody backs. The blood and the incense and strange light made him feel ill, dizzy and then he was standing over