Skeletons in the Rain

CHAPTER 22 | 27 HOURS AND 15 MINUTES AGO

As Abraham made a right onto Río Turbio street, his face flushed with anger.

Driving, something that would often help him clear his mind and outrun his worries, was souring his mood further. By the time they'd driven past the poorly lit town square twice in less than an hour, he could no longer stand the texture of his white polyester shirt plastered with sweat against his chest. Even though he'd floored the gas pedal since turning on the ignition, and the car windows were down, the night air had done little to lessen the suffocating heat.

Born and raised in San Isidro, he was more than used to this sauna-like weather. That wasn't what bothered him. Not really. What troubled him was Ismael. Despite the hellish temperature, in spite of the tragedy he'd lived through tonight, there was not a drop of sweat on the priest's forehead nor a trickle of fear on his face.

He's quiet as a cavern, Abraham thought, remembering his unpleasant experience at the Guácharo Cave National Park more than a decade ago.

The priest hadn't said a word since Abe had picked him up at the police station an hour ago, but when he finally spoke, Abraham quickly realized he would have preferred his friend to remain silent all night long.

"Abe, who is the Mime King?"

Right after hearing the question, the chief of police gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white and, without letting the speedometer needle drop a millimeter, made a sharp U-turn. The crunch of gravel startled a barking dog in a nearby alley.

"Dammit! That's it, Ismael. We are leaving."

"Abraham, where are you taking me?"

The priest's voice was dull but hostile.

"Maybe the bishop was right. Maybe you should stay with the nuns."

For the first time since they had gotten into the car, Ismael looked at him and said, "No. He isn't. Let's go home."

"Why? So you can make my wife cry again?" Abraham took his eyes off the road to glance at him. "Yeah. She called me. Told me all about your little pep talk. You are unbelievable, you know that? After what we've been through... I mean. Fuck!" He blew out a breath. "You had to die to bring us together again, man, and this is how you behave after a miracle?"

They drove in silence for a while.

"Perhaps I haven't been the ideal guest these past few days," the priest admitted.

"You think?" A smile of disbelief crossed his lips. "We are supposed to be a family, man. When you woke up, I thought it was an act of God, but... Come on, Ismael! I don't know what to do with you anymore."

Complaining was not something that came easily to Abe. His parents had raised him to be a man, and men didn't whine. Regardless of his beliefs, nothing in his upbringing had prepared him for Ismael's behavior since they left the hospital.

Weeks ago, Abraham had prayed every night for Ismael to come out of his coma. He had dreamed of having his old friend back home, the same guy who told dad jokes and used to smoke an occasional cigar with him while watching Sunday afternoon baseball games. A friend who always supported me whenever an asshole threw shit at my fan. He was sure his compa's recovery would be hard, but worth it; an ordeal they would endure together, like they'd done so many times before, only to come out stronger afterward.

Now, however, Abe feared Ismael wasn't even the same person. The priest looked and sounded just like before, but it wasn't him.

I'm starting to believe something else returned from the dead wearing his skin.