Free Amanda's Story by Brian O'Grady Page A

The next word—another curse—was cut off. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was saying. I can be there in five minutes.”
    â€œAll right, five minutes. Now go,” Luis ordered, and he replaced the microphone.
    â€œWe aren’t seriously going back in there?” Jorge asked his father.
    â€œWe can’t just leave.”
    â€œIf you say so, but you’re paying for any bullet holes in me or my boat.” Jorge swung the boat around, away from shore, and steered east, then turned south once they had passed the long pier. “Here we go,” he said, turning west and then north back towards shore. After closing the distance by half, he pulled the throttles back and let the boat coast to a stop. “It’s probably best if we stay out here until we see her.”
    â€œGood idea. I am officially making you the admiral of Isla Madres’ navy. Congratulations.”
    Jorge laughed humorlessly at his father’s attempt to break the tension. Five minutes passed slowly, and then another a little faster. “How long do we give her?” Jorge asked after another five minutes.
    â€œI don’t know, but we can’t leave her.”
    â€œWe could contact the military with the satellite phone.”
    â€œLook,” Luis said suddenly. They both scanned the dock with their binoculars. A frail woman had just stepped onto the long pier. “What’s that she’s dragging?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jorge said after scrutinizing the woman for several seconds. She was pulling a large black object, about half her size, behind her. When she was three-quarters to the end he dropped his binoculars and gave the two marine engines a little gas. They purred quietly and the boat glided towards the dock at the end of the long pier.
    Luis continued to watch the woman with his binoculars. She was struggling under the weight of her mysterious burden. “I think, as crazy as this sounds, it’s a vacuum cleaner.” His mind had been trying to fit any known item into the puzzle of the black object, and an old-fashion vacuum cleaner was as good a fit as he could come up with.
    â€œWell, she needs to drop it and move her ass,” Jorge whispered needlessly, because they were close enough to hear her swearing at both her burden and the bodies that lay in her path.
    â€œJesus, what is that smell?” Luis asked, watching the woman finally reach the stairs to the dock. He checked the last two bodies that she would have to negotiate, and then panned upward. He saw her bare feet, then her legs; she turned her back to him and began to drag the black object over the first body, and Luis finally got a clear look at it. “Oh my God,” he screamed. “It’s some kind of bird.” It was hideous, huge, and very dead. Jorge had retrieved his binoculars. “What is that?” Luis asked again.
    â€œDad, I think that’s a vulture. Look at its bald head and legs.” He adjusted the zoom on the lens. “Vultures aren’t that big.” Having negotiated the last body, the woman turned and faced them.
    â€œJesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Munoz senior said and quickly made the sign of the cross.
    â€œOh, fuck!” Jorge said. Her face and arms were covered in sores that ran red with blood and pus. He looked lower and found the blisters covering her legs as well. “We can’t let her in, Dad,” he said flatly.
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” Luis said. Jorge turned the boat on its keel and sped out to sea.

CHAPTER 8

    â€œTela is a city of thirty-two thousand. It has been mostly evacuated, but the military estimates that there are at least two hundred citizens that remained along with military and police personnel.” Bernice was virtually screaming. The only space that could be found for their group was a corner in a military hangar. The collective voices of hundreds of soldiers, along with jet engines in the