Alexander Death(19)

“This way.” Alexander helped her up into the back of a stripped-down Jeep, then sat down beside her. Ahead of them, the driver lit a cigar and cranked up the engine. Jenny could see nothing of the driver except for the glowing tip of the cigar.

“Wait.” Jenny felt the seat underneath her. “We’re just on a flat metal thing. Where are the seatbelts?”

“Seatbelts?” Alexander asked. The driver stomped on the gas, and the Jeep surged forward into darkness, fishtailing its way through low-lying limbs that snatched at Jenny’s hair. Jenny screamed and grabbed Alexander’s arm.

The headlights flared to life, casting dim light on the green mass of trees, limbs and vines surrounding them. They followed a narrow, overgrown trail, bashing through undergrowth along the way. She caught a glimpse of the driver’s battered green cap, his heavy black mustache, his grin around the cigar locked between his teeth.

Then the lights went out again, but the Jeep seemed to be accelerating, even as it made sharp turns along the winding trail. It skidded sideways at a tight bend, then straightened out.

“Why did he turn the lights off?” Jenny asked.

“Lights can make us visible from the sky,” Alexander said. “Not safe to leave them on.”

“Okay, but—” Jenny let out another gasp as the Jeep charged uphill, pushing her backwards. She flailed out her other arm and caught hold of the roll bar overhead. “Is this safe?”

“Manuel knows what he’s doing,” Alexander said. He wrapped an arm around Jenny’s waist, though, as if to stop her from flying out.

“I wish he’d turn the lights on again,” Jenny whispered. Her teeth chattered together as the Jeep bounced and slid its way through the jungle.

A minute later, the lights did come on again, to reveal that they were tilted at a sharp angle, following a narrow, crumbling dirt trail hacked into a mountainside. Jenny looked down along the steep, rocky slope beside her. If the Jeep toppled over on its side, as it seemed ready to do, it would roll and crash along more than a thousand feet of sheer moonlit rock.

Jenny closed her eyes again.

The Jeep plummeted forward like a roller coaster shooting down the first big hill. It slung her back and forth as it descended the steep trail, and then started climbing again. Jenny was starting to feel sick to her stomach, and she was pretty sure their driver was laughing.

They turned—sharply—onto a wider dirt road, which brought them to a high, uneven rock wall. The Jeep braked to a halt, and the headlights shone on a closed gate in the wall, which consisted of two large doors that appeared to be made of sheet metal. The driver, Manuel, hopped out of the Jeep, leaving the engine running as he approached the gate.

The wall was about ten feet high, a jumble of different stones cemented together. All over the wall, little glints reflected the headlights. Jenny realized that these were jagged pieces of glass embedded in the concrete. It looked the builders of the wall had stuck broken bottles everywhere, especially along the top, to slice up the hands and feet of anyone who tried to climb over.

Manuel unlocked the sheet-metal gate and pushed both doors open on rusty, screeching hinges. He drove the Jeep through, then hopped out again to lock the gate behind them.

They were on a paved path now, though many of the paving stones were missing, leaving empty sockets of water and mud. Ahead, Jenny saw a few buildings made of adobe, and a sprawling two-story main house made of stone, with balconies, staircases and chimneys jutting out here and there. The place looked almost medieval to Jenny. Candles burned all over the exterior of the house, outlining balconies, windows and doorways like strings of Christmas lights.

A low one-story cottage sat beside the main house, and a barn, and then the remains of another adobe building with a collapsed roof and hollow doorways.

“Welcome to Casa del Fuego,” Alexander said. He jumped out of the Jeep and offered his hand, but she didn't take it as she climbed down. She was feeling numb from the long, fast, jarring drive, and maybe from the painkillers, too.

“Is this where we're staying?” Jenny asked.

“This is my place,” Alexander said. “Nice, secluded, with strong ocean air to invigorate the mind. Can you smell the salt in the air?” He closed his eyes, and she studied his face in the moonlight. He looked so much younger when his eyes were closed.

“I think I can hear the ocean,” Jenny said. Waves crashed somewhere beyond the house.

“You can hear it all night,” Alexander said. “There's no sound more peaceful. Let me show you around.” He led her toward the house, across an unkempt yard full of tropical wildflowers. Behind them, Manuel drove the Jeep into the barn.