A Thunderous Whisper by Christina Diaz Gonzalez Page A

seemed to be paying attention to what was happening. They were all too busy with their fish to be bothered with what was going on inches away from me.
    “Raúl,” the drunk man said as he slumped down again, “you’re my only ffffriend.” Guillermo slurred his words. “Don’t hate me.”
    Raúl glanced toward me and gave me a look, as if apologizing for his friend’s behavior.
    “De veras,” Guillermo continued as Raúl tried to pull him up again. “I had no choice. This sssstupid war will be over ssssoon enough anyway. Thissss was my chaaance.” He spun around in Raúl’s arms. “My one chance!” he shouted to no one in particular.
    “Sí, sí.” Raúl humored his friend. “You did what you had to do.” He looked around the pier. “Where’s my—Ughhh! I must’ve left my bag on the boat.” Propping Guillermo against a piling, he grabbed his friend’s face, forcing the drunkard to look at him. “Stay here,” he commanded. Then, turning to me, he said, “Don’t let him stumble into the water. I’ll be right back.”
    Before I could respond that there was no way I could stop a grown man, Raúl was running down the pier.
    Guillermo stared at me with glassy eyes. “You understand, don’t you?” he asked.
    I nodded, glancing around, hoping that someone else would come by so I could leave.
    “Look at them.” He pointed back to some of the fishermen. “Don’t even have shoes. I want more.… I deserve more.”
    I said nothing and kept looking around.
    “Right?” Guillermo asked.
    “Yes. Of course,” I answered, facing him again.
    He leaned back against the piling, a look of vindication washing over him. “That’s right.” He stumbled one step toward me and lowered his voice. “Waaant to hear a sssecret?” he asked.
    I shook my head as he leaned back against the piling.
    “Suuure you do.”
    “No, not really.” I didn’t want to think about what a man like this would consider confidential.
    “It’s the war that makes usss do these things,” he mumbled, scratching his unshaven cheek. “Besssidesss, those ships would’ve been sssstopped one way or another. Who cares iffff one more makes it to those ffffancy people in Bilbao? It wasss my turn to make sssome money from thisss war business. Plusss, they were being all sssneaky about it … coming in from Fraaance.”
    I straightened up. This wasn’t just drunk-man talk. “Wait, what? Señor , what do you mean … exactly?”
    “¿Señor?” He smirked and stood upright. “You think I’m the type to be called señor ?” He stared at me, then inched closer so that I could now smell the overpowering stench of alcohol, fish, and who knows what else. His face got very serious, and he whispered, “You just be careful tomorrow, little one. There’ll be potatoes flying through the air.”
    The idea of flying potatoes must have struck him as quite funny because he started to laugh right in my face. My eyeswatered with the vile smell and I almost pinched my nose, but I kept staring at him … trying to understand what he was saying.
    He stopped laughing and gave me a serious look. “Potatoes flying over the ssseven sssseas.” He clapped his hands together. “Boom!”
    “An explosion?” I asked, hoping to make sense of his words.
    Guillermo held up his finger. “Just one. One really big one. The price to pay for a better life.” He burped as he said those last words. “Why should I care about those money-grubbing Brits?”
    My jaw dropped and I inched back. “You—you’re going to set off a bomb?” I stammered.
    “Me?” He pointed at himself as if I might be speaking to someone else. “No, no. I wouldn’t do sssomething like that.” He started to slur his words again.
    He had my undivided attention. “But you just said—”
    “All I did was pass on some information that I happened to come across. Can’t help what other people do with the secrets that I overhear, right?” He smiled, showing off a couple of gaps