CHAPTER 12: "Otherworldly Peace"
When Felipe woke up the next morning, the orange sun had just risen above the horizon. The boy's tears had dried on his cheeks.
That was an awful nightmare, he thought, as he pushed himself into a sitting position. I was so scared. I still am! He sniffled.
For a long moment, he just rested his face in his hands, trying to regain control. When he was satisfied that unwelcome sobs would not force their way out of his throat, he lifted his head and gazed at his worn-out, scuffed sandals.
Felipe had never been so frightened in his life, not even during the awful siege. At least, then, he'd had his parents to protect him and comfort him. Now, he had no one. Not only had he been deprived of his mother, his father, his speech, and his hearing in one fell blow, there was no one who knew to look for him. Without his voice, he could not call for help. If anyone did come along, unless he happened to see them or unless they saw him, he would never know they were there. Felipe was in desperate straits.
What can I do? I'm just a little boy; I'm only seven years old! I can't take care of myself. I'll die if someone doesn't find me soon!
Wearily, he rose to his feet. The sleep hadn't really refreshed him. He not only still felt sleepy, every muscle in his body felt stiff and sore. For a moment, he bowed his head to pray; as he made the sign of the cross, he begged God to help him and to protect him. He then left that tree. Maybe if he walked long enough, he would find someone to help him, or at least find some food and water.
It was a long, miserable day. Felipe trudged mile after weary mile, not at all sure he was heading to any place where help could be had. Moreover, he sensed he was wandering in circles. Twice, he came to a boulder he had passed the day before. As the morning went on, the air grew hot. Repeatedly, Felipe wiped beads of sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve.
Occasionally, he doubled over when a spasm of pain hit his stomach. He recognized that pain; he'd had it before when he'd had to go without food for a long stretch of time. That had happened when the crops had failed.
His mouth felt unbearably dry, yet his face felt damp with sweat. His clothes smelled of sweat and stink. Again and again, he would stop to wipe his face. He found nothing he could safely eat. Not a single river, creek, pond, or lake came into view.
I'm awful hungry, he thought. I'm awful thirsty! I'm awful hot!
When the noon hour arrived, Felipe stopped to rest and to try to come up with an idea. He thought of building a signal fire, but quickly gave that up. Not only was there nothing on hand to start a fire with, there was no one for miles around who would see the smoke. Unable to think of a useful course of action, he sat slumped and wept. When he stopped crying, he rose to his feet and trudged onward.
The afternoon slowly passed. He just trudged on and on, too tired and frightened and grief-stricken to pay any attention to his surroundings. When nightfall came, he sat under a tree again and prayed with his rosary once more.
It's been two days, the little boy thought. I'm still alone. I haven't ate nothin' in two days!
In that instant, an overflowing sense of peace welled up in him. It was an otherworldly sensation that calmed him, making him feel better.
It's God! he thought, thankfully. He's here! With me! He made the sign of the cross.
Felipe had felt this otherworldly joy twice before: once when his mother was very sick, and the morning he'd had his first communion. Just knowing that it was happening again made him feel better. God was with him; God was looking after him. Somehow, He would help Felipe. The little boy didn't know how, but he sensed that God would save him. He lay down on his side and inserted his index finger into his mouth. Soon, he drifted off.
"Felipe!"
Felipe shot up. His mother stood on a hill several yards away from him. The sun blazed behind her.
"Come on, son!" She held out her hand. "We're goin' home!"
Felipe leaped to his feet and raced toward his mother. As he approached her, she slowly faded. He could see the desert through her, now.
"No, Mommy!" he cried; to his relief, he could talk. "Don't go away! Por favor, stay! Please don't go!"
His pleas had no effect. Just as he reached that hill, his mother vanished altogether. "Mommy!" Felipe screamed. "Mommy, where are you?!"
Felipe opened his eyes. It was still pitch-black and totally silent; morning had not arrived, and he was still deaf.
Mommy! he screamed, soundlessly. Mommy! Not a sound left his throat.
Convulsive, yet silent, sobs forced their way out of his throat. He lay on his stomach and wept profusely. What was he going to do? What would he do without his mother and father? Without his beloved godparents and Rafael? And without his speech and hearing?
END OF CHAPTER 12