Ghosts of Guatemala by Collin Glavac

Author:Collin Glavac
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-26T03:00:39+00:00

* * *

John awoke to the sound of his Firm cell phone ringing. It was always on his person or sitting on the bedside table at night. If it rang it meant Esteban; although it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, at this time of night and unaccounted for, it meant an emergency.

In the throes of sleep the sound immediately made John smell smoke and taste sand, and hear the rattle of an AK-47 unload its magazine. He heard gravel crunch and smelled sweat and tasted blood.

The sensation happened so fast he hardly recognized it. He was up out of bed and moving before he was fully awake. By the time his senses were fully alert, he felt no grogginess or disorientation. Other than an underlying subconscious dread, he was ready.

He made his way quickly to the bathroom. There were no windows there and it gave him vision of the hotel’s front door. He was careful to avoid the balcony window, but took a moment to see if he could spot anything as he padded his way barefoot across the floor. His Glock was cocked and in his hand. He hardly remembered how it had gotten there. His eyes were adjusting to the dark slowly so he couldn’t see it, but the metal felt good in his hands again. The phone was in his other hand. He accepted the call.

“Carpenter?”

It was Esteban, which for some reason was a relief to John. It shouldn’t be anyone else on the other end, but stranger things had happened. The voice was low, whipcord and sharp. If a call in the dead of night didn’t give reason for alert, his tone confirmed it.

“I’m here,” John said. “What is it?”

“A situation. I need you moving.”

John eyed the door and then the balcony in two quick movements. “Is my location compromised?”

“No. But the mission may well be. I need you moving.”

John retrieved a pair of earbuds and plugged them into the phone. He threw on a pair of black pants laying on the edge of his bed and slipped on his shoes. He was already wearing a black shirt. His gun went into his waistband as he unlocked the hotel room lockbox. He pulled his small black backpack from inside and slung it over his shoulder.

“Carpenter?”

“Where am I going?”

He was out the door even as he replied. He made his way to the hotel steps.

The voice came clearly over the earbuds. “A hotel. Doña Maria. Address is 5a Calle Poniente 25. First floor, room three. You’re at your own hotel?”

“I’m outside it now.” The brisk night air met him as he felt the shadows engulf him. There were no street lamps. He picked up into a jog.

“There should be one hostile there,” Esteban was saying before he could ask. “The others are on the move.”

“Got it.”

No one roamed the streets of Antigua at night. No one who wasn’t suspect, that is. At one point he ran past two men carrying shotguns and reached for his pistol. They made no move to stop him, so he kept moving.

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