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The driver’s door bursts off its hinges under the strength of my shoulder, and I spill out onto the pockmarked sidewalk and into the flames. Smoke rises from the Pinto and I have to scramble away to avoid the blast that follows.
In the distance, another building falls.
My heart aches as I realize there’s no way out of this chaos I’ve caused. I’ve blown every bridge and blocked off every street just to keep my family safe, and all it’s done is kept me from them even more.
Somewhere nearby, I hear the sound of approaching voices barking unfamiliar orders and I force myself to stumble into the nearest alleyway.
Blood seeps from my shoulder as I disappear into the darkness, my eyes desperately searching for any sign of my son.
But my brain knows better. He’s not here. Oscar is gone.
I’ve failed him.
27
Catalina
My eyelids flutter open and for one amazing moment, I dare to hope that I just awoke from a nightmare.
“Catalina!?” The familiar voice drags me back to reality. Horrible memories of fire and violence cloud my vision and I groan with pain as I remember that my baby boy has been taken from me.
“Catalina!?” I don’t want to look. I don’t deserve to ever see anything ever again. I’m a failure of a mother and I’d be better off dead. “Where’s Angel, Catalina?”
Juan’s tone doesn’t match my anguish. A small part of me wants to lash out at him, but the dread is too heavy to break through. Everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong.
“Where’s Angel?” Juan repeats, and his words bounce around in my fractured mind like shrapnel.
“I don’t know,” I snap, somehow gaining the strength to lunge out of my fetal position. “Where’s Oscar!?” A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead from even saying the words. They only serve as a reminder of my failure.
Juan doesn’t answer my question right away, and that makes two things very clear. Oscar isn’t with Angel, and he is almost certainly with Dante. “I’m not sure,” Juan finally lies.
“Bullshit!” I sob. “Dante has him...”
Another tense silence fills up the space between us. Eventually, it’s interrupted by an opening door. “Still no word?” Juan asks.
“Nothing,” answers a familiar voice. I look up to see one of the men who helped me escape the chaos last night. Wait, was it last night? Two nights ago? More? I can hardly remember...
In the man’s hand, he holds the cellphone Angel gave to him. It’s dark and quiet.
“How are you feeling, Catalina?” the man asks.
I choke back my pain and try to be grateful. “Fine, thank you,” I lie, before adding, “thank you for your help last night.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t get there sooner...” he sulks. “We’ll do whatever we can to help find your son.” His words are well-intentioned but they cut through my heart like barbed wire.
Juan sits up from his bedside chair and gestures for the two of them to talk outside. When the door closes behind them, a cold chill runs over my skin.
I’m alone.
My family has been shattered. My life has been taken from me. The country burns because of us.
I should have listened to Angel...
Suddenly, my pitiful daze is broken by the familiar buzz of a ringing cell phone. I look over to where Juan was just sitting and I see that he left Angel’s phone behind.
My first reaction is to lunge for it, but when my fingers wrap around the ringing device, I can’t help but hesitate to answer.
What if it’s not Angel? What if someone has killed him? What if they’re calling to taunt me? What if all hope is truly lost?
