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them, really. Although his face was as wrinkled in
the sunlight as it had been by starlight, the eyes set
in that face were much brighter and younger than
I d thought they were. He had the most beautiful
face I d ever seen, or would ever see again, I knew.
When it was light enough, he stood up and went
to his bicycle. He said something to me again in
Spanish, got back on his bicycle, headed in the
direction from which he d come, wobbling at first,
and then riding away from me very fast.
I watched him pedal away until he was only a
shadow, and then a mirage, and then a memory, and
then the sun rose high enough in the sky that I knew
it was morning.
That the night was over.
The dark had been so complete that it hadn t
seemed possible that in such a short time the sun
could be pouring down on everything every leaf
and bird, on my arms, on the black road (which
began to grow even softer under my shoes), and the
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dust at the side of it and bringing so much color to
it. I stepped off the road, into the shade. A few small
emerald lizards scurried away when I did.
I stood like that, at the side of the road, in the
emerald light, listening to the birds thousands of
them, it seemed, just waking up in the branches
and trying to breathe slowly, and not to cry.
It was morning. Daylight. The old man had gone,
I felt sure, for help. I was thirsty, and my head
pounded from the crying and the terror, but I tried
not to think about where I was, where Michelle was.
I trusted the old man. He would have taken me with
him on his bicycle, I knew, if he had not had a plan
that would be swifter, better
And then I heard the sound of tires.
A car, this time, traveling over that softening tar.
I stepped out of the shade and into the sunlight,
holding my hand over my eyes so I could see it. It
was still just an emerging shape in the distance, but
I recognized it immediately. Ander s Renault. I
stepped into the road, waving my hands over my
head, shouting, Please! Please! as it sped closer.
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four
Michelle
WHEN SHE OPENS her eyes again, it s daylight. She s
alone in a jungle lying on her side with her knees
pressed into her stomach, her arms wrapped around
her legs, her head tucked into her chest. When she
unfolds herself and lies back and looks around her,
she s stunned to see how beautiful it is. Creation. So
much whispering green, and, above it, a color there
is no word for, for which a word would have to be
invented.
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five
Anne
ANDER WANTED TO turn around, to go to the police in
Mérida near the ruins and the Club Med where the
boys had taken us, but I said no, that we had to go
in the direction they d gone when they left, that
Michelle might have been dumped along the way, or
she might have escaped. She could be anywhere
now. She could be wandering along this road ahead
of us, or at the side of the road, and that I had to be
able to look. The one thing I knew was that the boys
had not turned around and driven back down this
road. They had taken Michelle and they d kept
going.
So he agreed to go back to Cancún along that road.
Yes, he said. Perhaps we will see her. Perhaps
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We drove in silence for miles, and I kept my eyes
on the side of the road.
Could she be out there, somewhere?
Had she, like me, spent the night in the jungle, on
this road in the dark?
Had they kicked her out of the car, or had they
pulled over again, and she d regained consciousness,
escaped?
Had the Jeep broken down?
Maybe they d left it, with Michelle in the passen
ger seat. Maybe they d never intended to do her any
harm. Maybe it had been me. Because of Robbie.
Maybe they d simply opened the car door and let
her go, and she was wandering now, looking for me.
It seemed possible, and the only hope, in this
expanse of green and bush, that maybe Michelle was
on this road, and that we would find her if we kept
looking. After a while, my eyes burned with the dust
and sun, but I was afraid to blink, afraid to miss her.
Ander seemed to be doing the same thing scanning
the sides of the road, looking out the windows and
into the mirrors, but driving very quickly at the
same time.
I wept, but without closing my eyes, wiping the
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tears away as quickly as I could, so I could see her. I
thought of what I d said to her: I guess if he rapes and
kills you it won t matter, since you both enjoy sacrifices
so much.
It had all been because of me.
She had trusted him, and I had trusted them.
Ander put his hand on my shoulder, and we drove
like that until the ocean could be seen ahead of us
in all of its turquoise glory, and the frothing of waves
on that white sand, and the road cluttered with
beautiful students in bathing suits, holding paper
cups, glistening with sunblock and sweat.
Seeing them, like that the hordes of them, in
their ignorance, their drunkenness, their youth,
their oblivion, their joy took my breath away.
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six
Michelle
BLUE?
No.
There would need to be a better word.
Where is she?
Who is she?
She sits up.
She puts her hands to her face and feels it. And
then the hair on her head. She looks at her hands:
Are they hers?
If they are not hers, whose are they?
She uses the hands to push herself up from the
ground. To stand.
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She uses the hands to brush the dirt off her knees,
to rub her eyes. She is naked, but she isn t cold. The
air around her is soft and damp, and the sun over
head pours onto the leaves around her, and their soft
green light seems to clothe her.
She s surrounded by vegetation. Trees strung with
heavy vines. Bushes with flowers on them red and
blue, white, pink. She can t see anything in any
direction except overhead, because wherever the
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