not healing. Garcia inspected it, a frown on his dark, handsome features.
‘Be brave,’ he said. ‘You must hold on. Everything is going to be all right. I fixed up my radio. I was coming here to find you and tell you the good news.’
‘What good news?’ said Precious.
‘Your father is all right,’ said Garcia with a reassuring smile. ‘He landed safely in the jungle near Palenque, but his plane is damaged. He is stuck there.’
‘Did you speak to him?’ said Precious.
Garcia shook his head. ‘He made contact with the port authority in Vera Cruz. I spoke to them, and passed on a message telling him that you had come to Puente Nuevo.’ Garcia stood up. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we will need to find something to clean the wound. James, you come with me, we will see what we can find.’
James followed Garcia down a flight of steps to the street.
Garcia put a hand on his arm. He looked serious.
‘The boy IS not well,’ he said. ‘His leg is becoming infected and he swallowed a lot of dirty water. We cannot get to the mission now. The flood will have taken the bridge. We must find medicine and clean water on this side.’
‘I’ll go and see if I can find what happened to the car,’ said James. ‘I might be able to salvage something.’
‘Good,’ said Garcia. ‘I will meet you back here.’
James found the car about 100 yards down the street, on the outskirts of town, lying on its side, wrecked. He felt sorry that such a beautiful thing had been spoilt. There was no sign of the suitcases. They had been ripped from the sides. The food was ruined, but one of the water canisters was still in the luggage box on the back. He unscrewed the cap and drank some water. It was warm and tasted horrible, but he knew that it would do him some good.
He looked in the glovebox and found a pair of sunglasses and a soggy map. He stuffed the map into his pocket and put the sunglasses on. The sun was harsh and bright this morning and he had the beginnings of a headache.
He lugged the water back up the road to the house, but when he got to the balcony, Precious and JJ had disappeared. He called out their names and looked around, but there was no sign of them. He wondered whether Garcia had got back before him and taken them to safety, but when, a few moments later, the Mexican showed up, carrying a bottle of neat alcohol and a roll of clean bandages, he said that he had no idea where they were.
Then Garcia spotted a cigarette butt, still smouldering on the floor of the balcony.
‘That was not here before,’ he said. ‘Someone has come.’
‘Maybe someone’s helping them,’ said James, hopefully, though there was a cold feeling of unease in his guts.
‘Would the girl go without saying anything?’ said Garcia.
‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ said James. ‘I’m not her favourite person in the world.’
‘We must find them,’ said Garcia.
‘They can’t be long gone,’ said James. ‘Maybe if we split up. They didn’t go down the main road away from town because I would have seen them.’
‘And they did not come up towards the main square either,’ said Garcia. ‘They must have gone down one of the other streets.’
They walked back up to where the three streets joined and James and Garcia took one each.
James hurried along, glancing into side streets as he went. A few people were beginning to emerge from their houses and survey the damage. James stopped and asked a couple in a mixture of pidgin Spanish and dumb show if they had seen an American girl and boy. On the third time of asking, an old peasant pointed James in the direction he was already headed.
He ran on and, as he rounded a bend, he came to a small square. There was an arcade around the edge and a few tatty trees stood in the middle. He saw Precious and JJ sitting in the shade of a tree and was just about to call out to them when some sixth sense told him to hold his tongue.
He looked again.
There was a familiar truck parked
‘Be brave,’ he said. ‘You must hold on. Everything is going to be all right. I fixed up my radio. I was coming here to find you and tell you the good news.’
‘What good news?’ said Precious.
‘Your father is all right,’ said Garcia with a reassuring smile. ‘He landed safely in the jungle near Palenque, but his plane is damaged. He is stuck there.’
‘Did you speak to him?’ said Precious.
Garcia shook his head. ‘He made contact with the port authority in Vera Cruz. I spoke to them, and passed on a message telling him that you had come to Puente Nuevo.’ Garcia stood up. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we will need to find something to clean the wound. James, you come with me, we will see what we can find.’
James followed Garcia down a flight of steps to the street.
Garcia put a hand on his arm. He looked serious.
‘The boy IS not well,’ he said. ‘His leg is becoming infected and he swallowed a lot of dirty water. We cannot get to the mission now. The flood will have taken the bridge. We must find medicine and clean water on this side.’
‘I’ll go and see if I can find what happened to the car,’ said James. ‘I might be able to salvage something.’
‘Good,’ said Garcia. ‘I will meet you back here.’
James found the car about 100 yards down the street, on the outskirts of town, lying on its side, wrecked. He felt sorry that such a beautiful thing had been spoilt. There was no sign of the suitcases. They had been ripped from the sides. The food was ruined, but one of the water canisters was still in the luggage box on the back. He unscrewed the cap and drank some water. It was warm and tasted horrible, but he knew that it would do him some good.
He looked in the glovebox and found a pair of sunglasses and a soggy map. He stuffed the map into his pocket and put the sunglasses on. The sun was harsh and bright this morning and he had the beginnings of a headache.
He lugged the water back up the road to the house, but when he got to the balcony, Precious and JJ had disappeared. He called out their names and looked around, but there was no sign of them. He wondered whether Garcia had got back before him and taken them to safety, but when, a few moments later, the Mexican showed up, carrying a bottle of neat alcohol and a roll of clean bandages, he said that he had no idea where they were.
Then Garcia spotted a cigarette butt, still smouldering on the floor of the balcony.
‘That was not here before,’ he said. ‘Someone has come.’
‘Maybe someone’s helping them,’ said James, hopefully, though there was a cold feeling of unease in his guts.
‘Would the girl go without saying anything?’ said Garcia.
‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ said James. ‘I’m not her favourite person in the world.’
‘We must find them,’ said Garcia.
‘They can’t be long gone,’ said James. ‘Maybe if we split up. They didn’t go down the main road away from town because I would have seen them.’
‘And they did not come up towards the main square either,’ said Garcia. ‘They must have gone down one of the other streets.’
They walked back up to where the three streets joined and James and Garcia took one each.
James hurried along, glancing into side streets as he went. A few people were beginning to emerge from their houses and survey the damage. James stopped and asked a couple in a mixture of pidgin Spanish and dumb show if they had seen an American girl and boy. On the third time of asking, an old peasant pointed James in the direction he was already headed.
He ran on and, as he rounded a bend, he came to a small square. There was an arcade around the edge and a few tatty trees stood in the middle. He saw Precious and JJ sitting in the shade of a tree and was just about to call out to them when some sixth sense told him to hold his tongue.
He looked again.
There was a familiar truck parked
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