CHAPTER 11: "Lost on the Desert"
When the blackness receded, Felipe found himself lying facedown on the ground, with grass tickling his nose. The two bundles containing his family's possessions pressed his back, pinning him down against the ground. His head throbbed, making him wince.
Slowly, Felipe raised his aching head and clutched the side of it with his right hand. The sides of the pushcart lay up-ended on the ground. It had been overturned.
Mamá? Felipe thought. Papá? Where are they? The little boy winced. Ow! My head hurts!
He looked around. Through the bars, he could see his father lying facedown in the grass, several feet from Felipe's head. Juan's gray felt sombrero lay askew. Where was Felipe's mother? He just had to find out!
Gritting his teeth, Felipe rose to his elbows and knees. Shaking his body sideways, he shoved the bundles toward the side. He crept out from underneath the overturned pushcart, and looked towards his left.
His mother lay sprawled on her side at the other end of the pushcart, her yellow shawl draped askew over her shoulder. Felipe crawled toward her and shook her shoulder.
"Mommy," he tried to say; nothing came out. "Mommy," he tried to say again, as he shook her a second time. No sound came from his mouth. His mother lay limp and motionless.
Fear gripped Felipe's heart. He clutched his throat. "Mommy!" he mouthed a third time, in an effort to shout. His throat did not vibrate as it usually did when he spoke.
I can't talk! Felipe thought. Mommy's dead; Papá's dead!
He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Dead peons and soldiers lay scattered in the grass and surrounded Felipe. He could see no one alive in any direction he looked; he couldn't hear a single voice. Even the victorious government soldiers had disappeared. He was alone. All alone.
Desperately, in an attempt to gain someone's attention, Felipe tried unsuccessfully to scream for help, wincing as his head throbbed. He clapped his hands, but no one came to his rescue. There was no answering shout.
Felipe clapped his hands again. This time, he noticed that the sound his hands usually made when slapped together was totally absent. He stared at his callused, workworn hands and clapped a third time. There was no clapping sound.
No! the boy thought. It's not true! It's not! His hands shook; he swallowed a lump in his throat.
Suddenly, he wondered what would happen if he tried to revive his father. Maybe his father was just unconscious. He rushed toward his father's side, bent over, and shook Juan's shoulder. Juan did not so much as open his eyes.
After a violent effort to shake his father awake, Felipe gave up. As he wandered away from the dead bodies, he found a fist-size rock and picked it up. In that instant, he decided to find out if he could hear or not.
Felipe hurled the rock at a nearby tree. It bounced off the trunk and landed in the grass. The thuds Felipe had expected to hear did not reach his ears.
I can't hear! he thought. I can't talk; I can't hear!
Panic seized the little boy, as he fully realized the mortal danger he was in. Unless someone found him soon, he would be killed by wild beasts or die of thirst and starvation. Felipe collapsed on the ground; for the next several minutes, he wept profuse, heavy, yet silent sobs.
When the sobs subsided, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Sniffing, he wiped his tear-stained face. In that instant, a small building in the general vicinity of the bastion and the other building exploded. Debris flew into the air, as Felipe stared. But the loud boom never reached his ears. It was, for him, a totally silent explosion.
Suddenly, he realized that the rest of the pueblo was going to explode, too. Unless he moved out of harm's way quickly, he would be killed for sure. He leaped to his feet and darted toward a tree with a thick trunk. He hid behind it and squeezed his eyes shut.
In the next instant, the ground shook violently. Felipe threw his arms against the tree to keep his balance.
A moment later, he glanced around the tree to see what had happened. To his horror, the whole pueblo was on fire. Yellow-red flames blazed into the air; thick columns of smoke rose toward the sky. Not daring to see what would happen next, Felipe ran away.
Minutes passed, as he ran and ran. A pain developed in his side; his breath grew short and came in gasps. But he dared not stop. He feared that something terrible would happen to him if he did.
At last, he stopped. He was too tired to run any farther. He flopped on the ground and lay there, trying to catch his breath. He felt his heart pounding, and beads of sweat trickled down his face. Gradually, his breath slowed down to normal.
Mommy won't be lookin' for me, now, he thought, miserably. She's dead. She's in Heaven with Jesus. No one's gonna look for me!
Suddenly, he remembered his nightmares. He'd had them night after night before the Cortezes had left San Miguel; then they had stopped until the night before.
It happened just like in my dream! The thought made him freeze. I got thrown from a cart! And Mommy—she said she saw market day, and we wasn't there! And we really won't be, will we? We'll never be at market day ever again! Never, never, never!
Felipe realized, then, that his nightmares and his mother's visions had been premonitions, warnings from God of what was going to happen. It had happened exactly as his dreams had foretold, and it would happen exactly as his mother had sensed. When the survivors had returned to San Miguel from those other places of refuge and began selling and trading their wares on market day, his family would not be there, though it was possible that the Lopezes would.
The thought was so awful that it terrified Felipe. For the second time that day, he lay on his stomach, crying.
Several minutes later, something the strange priest had told him came back to him now. The priest had called him brave, because he had come to his mother's aid. And their own Padre Pablo had told him, before that, that he knew Felipe could be brave if circumstances called for it.
Well, I'm not brave, Felipe thought, snuffling. I'm scared! I'm all alone, and there's no one to take care of me! He made the sign of the cross. Please, God, help me! And por favor, help me be brave!
Resigned to his ordeal, the little boy rose to his feet and began to look for someone to help him. Without thinking, he inserted his index finger into his mouth. For a long moment, as he sucked his finger, he turned around, scanning the desert, but saw no one. He could not remember where the town was. All he could see were trees and rolling hills. Where could he look for someone to help him?
With a sigh, Felipe rubbed his hands on his blue shirt, then wandered away. For the rest of that day, he walked on and on. Hour after hour, he trudged wearily onward. From time to time, he passed a group of dead soldiers. Not one living person came in sight. Again and again, tears of deep-seated terror welled up in his eyes. What would he do if no one found him? How would he survive?
Slowly, the pangs of hunger began to torment Felipe. He yearned for something to eat. When he saw a clump of green berries on a bush, he stopped to examine them.
He picked one off the branch it clung to and laid it on his throat. Instantly, it stung his tongue, and it tasted terrible. Felipe spit it out immediately and made a face. Then he wiped his sweaty forehead and trudged onward.
I want my mommy! he thought. Mommy, why'd you have to die?!
At last, the now-orange sun dipped toward the horizon. Felipe paused to look at it. It was going to be dark soon. He was going to be all alone on an empty desert in the blackness of night.
The exhausted boy approached a nearby tree and slid down to the ground. Crossing his legs Indian-style, he pulled his mother's rosary out of his white trousers and gazed at it for a long moment. As he did, his promise came back to him.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us now and in the hour of our death, he silently prayed. As he prayed the familiar litany and followed it up with his bedtime prayers, the sun set. One by one, the stars began to twinkle. The air grew chilly.
Felipe draped the rosary around his neck and lay cuddled on his side, wrapping his arms around his chest for warmth. The terrors that he had managed to hold at bay all day now threatened to totally overwhelm him. Convulsive, yet silent sobs forced their way out of his throat. He lay on his side, sobbing helplessly, till sleep finally overcame him and stilled his crying. As he lay in slumber, though, he found himself whisked back to the scene of the battle. He stared at his parents as they shoved the cart onward; cannonblasts and gunshots hurt his ears. In the next instant, the cart was knocked over, and he flew through the air.
Mommy!!
Felipe shot up and stared around wildly. Mommy! he thought, panic-stricken. Where's Mommy? Why isn't she here?!
As he scanned the dark, silent countryside surrounding him, reality hit. He was all alone, with no one to comfort him or protect him. He lay back on his side and, resting his face in his hands, sobbed again.
END OF CHAPTER 11