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The heavy pit in my chest gets a little smaller, but a whole lot deeper.
What the hell am I going to do?
25
Catalina
Did I fall asleep?
Oscar breathes softly on my chest as I try to blink through the darkness of our little bedroom.
“Angel?” The fire from our fight is still there, but at least it’s only smoldering now. I think we both had the same realization at the exact same time; if Ozzy’s going to stay safe, then it’s going to have to be a team effort.
“I’m right here,” he grumbles, playing with his phone by the shut window.
I sit up in bed, careful not to wake Oscar. “What are we going to do?” I ask, still a little drowsy.
“For now, all we can do is wait,” he sighs. “I finally got through to Juan while you napped, but he couldn’t talk. Once he gets back to us, we’ll know where to go next. Until then, we just need to rest.”
Angel looks tired. A stubborn determination laces his features, but it can’t hide his exhaustion. Fear nibbles at my pounding heart. Did I make the wrong choice earlier? Would we already be safe if I hadn’t resisted?
I don’t dare ask. If the answer is yes, and something ends up happening, I don’t know how I could live with myself...
Suddenly, the silence of the room is broken by a harsh buzz.
Angel immediately answers his ringing cell phone. “What is it!?” He almost doesn’t get the words out, because I can already hear Juan shouting from the other end of the line.
“You need to get out of there now!”
My stomach drops just as the first bomb does.
Wilmar’s house shakes and I’m thrown across the bed. Somehow, I manage to grab hold of Oscar before my back smacks against the nearest wall. For a second, the wind is knocked out of me. Everything is quiet again. Then, through the drawn drapes of our bedroom window, I see the orange glow of fire... and then I hear Oscar start to cry.
“It’s okay, baby,” I try to sooth him as Angel jumps to his feet. The blast was even strong enough to knock him on his ass.
Claws of pure dread slash across my pounding heart. How close was that explosion?
Another burst somewhere nearby shakes the walls. I curl around Oscar and Angel stumbles over to the bedroom closet. “We need to get on the roof!” he yells, throwing clothes from their hangers as he searches for the secret door.
A gust of wind tunnels into our bedroom and I know he’s found it. I’m immediately on my feet, Oscar braced against my chest, as I make a run for the quickest way out of here.
Angel holds the little half-door open for me as I crouch down and carry Oscar out into the fiery night. A strong humid wind greets us, as does shouts and wails and another explosion.
Unsettled dust rises from the short cement staircase that leads to the roof as I scurry up it. Angel follows close behind. The smell of fire is in the air.
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When I stumble onto Wilmar’s roof, it becomes clear why.
The slums are ablaze.
Great flames flicker up to the moonless sky as the orange glow of the destruction reflects off the bottom of the stormy clouds above.
A desperate sadness escapes my lips and my knees threaten to buckle... but then I hear Oscar’s cries and I force myself to push forward.
“Fuck,” Angel grumbles as he comes up from behind me.
For an awful moment, we just stand there and stare.
