With a bit of a day buzz going on, we decided to try and walk back to the hotel. We’d go through the town on the Malecon and then walk north along the beach. If we got tired, we’d walk two steps to the nearest hotel and get a drink. It had all the markings of a perfect day. It was the perfect day.
We were walking through the town square, past the iconic church tower, when he squeezed my hand and said, “You know what, Alana?”
“What?” I loved the sound of my name with his raspy accented voice.
“Back in Minnesota, we have a saying that’s pretty applicable right now.”
I frowned, puzzled. “Minnesota? Isn’t that in the states?”
He blinked then said, “Yes. I played hockey there for a bit. Big hockey state. Lot of Canadians go down there to play.”
Made sense. “What is it?”
“I’m sweet on you.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “I think that’s what Americans in the movies say. Not ex-solider, hockey-playing Canadians.”
He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Well I guess I’m sweet on you too,” I told him. “You know in Mexico, we have our own saying.”
“Go on then,” he said with a grin and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me toward him. I stepped forward, careful not to put my cast on his toes, and pressed against his chest.
A deafening crack ran through the air.
I felt wind at my back and something solid hit my cast.
Someone somewhere was screaming. Maybe it was me.
“Run,” Derrin said through gritted teeth, staring up and over my shoulder, his grip on me like a vice.
I turned and followed his line of sight. There was a quick movement at the top of the bell tower. I looked down at the space behind me. The ground was split open from a bullet. Pieces of concrete had hit the back of my cast.
I was standing there a second ago.
That bullet was meant for me.
I couldn’t even process it. Derrin was pulling me along the square, racing for the cover of trees, while people screamed and scattered in all directions. I tried to run as fast as I could with my cast but it wasn’t cutting it.
Derrin knew that but did what he could to keep me going. Pigeons took flight as we made our way past the gazebo, where a band had paused and was looking around in horror, and we scampered toward the road.
Another shot rang out through the air, hitting one of the gazebo poles and ricocheting off. I would have screamed again if I had any breath left in me.
“We’re not going to make it on foot!” he yelled at me. He yanked me behind a tree, leaving me there to tremble like a dog, while he leaped out onto the road. A small motorbike was puttering past and he quickly knocked the man off of it. The man fell, crying out as he hit the road, narrowly being hit by an oncoming car and Derrin hopped on the bike, wheeled it around and jumped onto the curb beside me.
This all took place in the space of five seconds.
“Get on!” he yelled at me, his eyes blazing. But they weren’t afraid. They were determined.
I did as he said, leaning on him and awkwardly trying to get my leg over the back of the bike. The man who owned the bike was getting to his feet, yelling his head off, while another bullet hit the sidewalk. I whipped my head to the square to see two men running for us, guns drawn.
This can’t be real. This can’t be real.
But it was. Derrin gunned the bike forward and I quickly wrapped my arms around his waist, holding on for dear life.
Who was that? Who was that? Who was that?
I kept wanting to ask, to yell, to scream but I couldn’t. I could only hold on and try and catch my breath. My heart was playing drums in my chest and the city I knew and loved was zipping past me in a blur. In seconds it had turned from a warm safe place to one that wanted me dead.
Why?
We zipped along the street, Derrin handling the bike like it was second nature, dodging pedestrians, over taking cars, hopping on and off the sidewalk when we had to. All I could do was grip him and try not to fall off. Fear was in every part of me, begging me to pay attention to it, but I couldn’t. Once I did, that would be the end of me.
I put fear in a box and managed to look over my shoulder. You would think that after all of Derrin’s fancy maneuvering that we would have lost whoever it was. But there, in the distance, I could see two motorbikes. They looked bigger. Faster. They were gaining ground.
“Shit!” I screamed, finding my voice. It practically tore itself out of my throat.
Derrin quickly looked over his shoulder and only raised an eyebrow at the discovery. The bike went a little bit faster, but only a little.
We swerved to the right heading down a narrow lane, nearly taking out the patio seating area for a restaurant, while people shouted and yelled at us. The sound of the bike’s engine was deafening as it bounced off of the close walls, then multiplied.