Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,43
Salazar. Don’t get your knickers all up in a knot. C’mon, let’s take this outside!”
Alejo’s fingers dug into her arm as he dragged her through the tent door. The others drew back to make room. Lázaro, apparently not satisfied in the least with Alejo’s calm explanation, swore foully and then rushed him, slamming into him from behind. Wara felt the momentum of the push twisting her off her feet. An arm caught her around the shoulders, yanking her back up to standing as Alejo released her.
She saw Alejo land on both palms just before hitting the ground and release a lightening backwards kick that caught Lázaro under the chin, spinning him around with a grunt. Wara struggled to look behind her and realized that the man now holding her was Benjamin, the one with the wire-rim glasses. One forearm clamped tightly around her neck, threatening to cut off her airway if she moved. Wara was trapped, watching as Lázaro and Alejo flew at each other again in some kind of martial arts stance, each taking a few violent punches.
Like Alejo had said earlier, most of the guys who had been up here on the mountain were already gone. An older guy Wara hadn’t seen before had appeared, however, watching the scene with displeasure, arms crossed in front of his chest. The man was actually much older than the others, wearing olive green pants with multiple pockets, a t-shirt, and one of those khaki vests full of zippers and flaps favored by foreign journalists in a war zone. A neatly-trimmed beard peppered with gray gave the impression that he could be a kindly grandfather, except for how his eyebrows were now knit into the perfect V, scowling first at her, then at the fight.
Confused and numb by all the blows and shouts, Wara’s mind finally registered that Alejo had launched himself from the ground with a somersault and brutally knocked Lázaro to the dirt with a kick to the ribs. Spinning in a half circle, Lázaro fell with a thud, swore at the attempt to rise, then gave up.
“Enough?” Alejo panted, sweat running down his back. “I like you, che, and I really hope that’s enough. I didn’t know, I promise you. Just for you, I won’t touch her again.”
“Yes, I think fun time is over.” The authoritative voice of the grandfatherly newcomer carried over the group.
“Asalaam alaikum, Ishmael.” Wara saw Alejo grin at the older man. Then Nazaret’s brother began speaking a different language, clipped, as if reporting facts. Lázaro was painfully picking himself up off the ground, a bloody gash running above his right eyebrow. He walked gingerly towards the rest of the group, keeping a wary distance from Alejo, listening. From time to time he threw a guarded glance at Wara.
Soon after their little conference, the older guy turned his beady gaze back on Wara. She was still pinned against Benjamin, eyes barely slit open, for the first time ever not trying to figure out what language everyone was speaking. Sweat dripped down her back and she was terrified.
“I am so sorry,” the older guy was saying with a smile in smooth Spanish, “that this has been allowed to drag on this long. I’m sure you are a nice girl. ”
The smile died away, and he unsheathed a long, curved hunting knife with a smooth whine, turning his gaze towards Lázaro. “My son, it’s time for us to move on,” he explained patiently to Lázaro in accented Spanish. “Apart from being a witness to the bus accident, she can identify you.”
A trickle of blood from the wound Alejo left was slowly winding down Lázaro’s face like a shiny maroon caterpillar. He gaped dumbly at the knife that the man now extended towards him
“Lázaro,” Wara stammered, heart slamming against Benjamin’s arm. The fact that Lázaro, too, was here, part of this, was absolutely surreal. “How could you do this? Noah was your friend, wasn’t he? How could you want to kill him? He never did anything to you! ”
Lázaro just stared at her, possibly realizing for the first time that Noah too had been on the bus. He glanced at the old guy, nervously, and his hand closest to the offered knife twitched. Wara took in that Gabriel, standing next to Lázaro, appeared ready to vomit, one hand clutching his throat, staring at Wara’s neck.
Feeling faint, Wara realized that they were going to slit her throat.
Lázaro stumbled a slight step back, and at that moment Wara saw the flash