Blurred by Peter Fugazzotto

Author:Peter Fugazzotto [Fugazzotto, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-22T22:00:00+00:00

11

They drove into the storm-darkened morning, heading towards a horizon narrowed with dark gray clouds. Rain sheeted so fiercely against the windows of the SUV that everything in the outside world was blurry.

Phil sat in the back, staring at smears of buildings, blobs of huddled people, the light that streaked through gaps in the clouds. His thoughts kept returning to the reflection of himself in the swimming pool and the thing of terror swelling behind him. Looking out the back of the SUV, he half-expected a gargantuan, tentacled shadow to rise up over the buildings - but nothing did. His mind was playing tricks on him. Because what he was seeing could not be real.

Maybe he needed to find a therapist to help him get this all sorted out. None of what he was experiencing was normal. Phil settled on a plan; he’d snap the photo, get back home, and talk to his doctor. This was more than just an afterimage from a car explosion.

Half an hour later, and after more greased palms at roadblocks, the broken asphalt of the highway gave way to a gravel road marked with muddy furrows; they were forced to slow down despite the urgency that pushed them.

Phil looked through the rear window. The capital had become small, insignificant, and it seemed the mountains and jungle could swallow it at any moment, and he wondered whether it would survive this war. But he did not really care. As long as the airport was still functioning when he returned, with the photo, the country could consume itself for all he cared.

“Another fucking roadblock,” said Xavier. “I’m running out of spending money here.”

Ahead, masked men had parked their battered pick-up trucks in a vee, barring the way; they flagged Halley to slow down. “These guys don’t want bribes,” said Halley.

“Then what do they want?”

Halley answered by gunning the engine as they got closer. The SUV surged forward, and as Halley veered left Phil slid towards the opposite window; the car bounced as it shot off the road. He gritted his teeth as the wheels lost traction for a moment before biting into firm soil. Halley corrected the steering, and they raced back onto the road, bypassing the parked trucks. One of the men chased after them, swinging a machete.

“Either of you have guns?” asked Halley.

Phil shook his head.

“We’re journalists,” said Xavier.

“That’s not going to protect you where we’re going.” Halley glanced into the rear-view mirror.

Phil looked over his shoulder. The trucks remained parked in a wedge. The men weren’t pursuing them. As he unclenched his fists, he realized he had been squeezing them tightly.

Halley continued. “Where we’re going, there are different rules at play. Your life isn’t worth a hundred-dollar bill. Money means nothing to the people we’re going to meet. You need to understand that. If you fuck up, you die. Got that? So, you listen to me, you do what I say. And maybe, if we’re lucky, we get out of here alive and unscathed.”

“I paid you,” said Xavier, his face suddenly pallid.

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