can a frustrated single mom and failed big city journalist save her family and salvage her career by returning to a town run by a gang of bungling thugs?


“The Resurrection of Puerto Cielo” is a novella published in serial form, 43 posts.




3


He sprang from the shadows, the silver blade flashing under the streetlight.

The trio’s jaunt for late night pizza suddenly stopped.

The thin assailant with a hoody hiding his face, hissed, “Your money.” The obvious other choice was the knife.

The teenage girl wearing the cowboy hat responded calmly, “Smile.”

The blinding camera flash froze the mugger. Before he could blink, the girl kicked the knife out of his hand, punched him hard in the gut, then kicked him in the nuts with her pointed boots.

Grabbing his groin while slumping to his knees, the foiled attacker gaped up in stunned amazement.

The girl poked a finger into his wide eyed face, then unleashed a torrent of profanity, ending with, “Get your sorry ass out of here before I really hurt you!

Groaning, the hoodlum struggled to his feet, never taking his eyes off the girl who was a full foot shorter than him.

She lunged, “Move it, butt face!”

He vanished.

“Wow!” gasped the small boy beside her, “you’re amazing, Sis.”

She stooped, picked up the dropped knife, and tossed it in a trash bin.

Speechless, Esperanza Diaz watched her two children, hand in hand, walk on, her daughter’s long, dark pony tail swishing back and forth as if nothing had ever happened.

For Espy, two things were now perfectly clear. First, all those kick boxing lessons for Manuela had been worth it. Second, they were leaving the city before her daughter, the angelic assassin, needed to save them again.

And, Espy wondered, where did Manny get that language?

***

The car slowly slipped off the pavement onto the shoulder. With one last gasp, the engine quit and the vehicle jerked to a stop. The driver’s head popped up.

“Jeez!”

Esperanza Diaz peered out the front windshield. A flock of black birds flitted past, flying down the empty road beyond. She tried to roll down the side window, then remembered that, like many things with Barbara, it only worked sometimes. But it must be a good day, she thought, as the window opened easily.

Crisp, dawn air filled her lungs and her mind began to focus.

How stupid would that be, she thought, small town girl who left for the big city seeking fame and fortune, dies in a car crash returning home with her tail between her legs.

She considered her rash decision to drive all night, through darkness, through rain, without sleep. Wasn’t the first dumb thing she’d done and wouldn’t be the last.

She looked into the rear view mirror. The woman who stared back at her was not in her twenties anymore. There were flecks of gray in the long black hair piled atop her head, wrinkles on her face, and bags under her eyes. She was tired, so very tired. 

Espy slapped her cheeks, reminding herself that she was supposed to be the responsible adult in the family. She turned to look at the teenage girl curled up in the seat beside her.

Manny’s innocent face gave no hint of the enraged hellion who had exploded when Espy told the kids they were leaving the city and moving back to Puerto Cielo.

“Are you crazy!” Manny had shrieked, “We can’t go back to hick town, all my friends, my whole life, is here. What are you thinking? Have you got PMS?”

“No way, Jose!” she had screamed, then stomped off, punctuating the outburst by emphatically slamming her bedroom door.

The irate teenager had followed this tirade with three weeks of defiant behavior, ranging from sulking, to the loud and frequent use of the word,

“No!”

Then it stopped.

Yesterday afternoon, Manny had returned home, slipped noiselessly into the house and disappeared into her room. Her younger brother, Gabriel, had explained the dramatic change in behavior,

“Her boyfriend dumped her.”

Manny couldn’t get out of town fast enough.

Grabbing the opportunity, Espy had shoved kids and belongings into Barbara and taken off, intent on driving all night and leaving the city and a string of broken dreams behind.

She twisted to see her son in the back. Ten year old Gabe, head resting on a deflated soccer ball, lay sprawled midst boxes and clothes. The kid could sleep anywhere. She’d once had all her friends searching the neighborhood for her lost son, only to discover him asleep beneath his own bed. Comatose beside him was Arnold, the little chihuahua whose snoring far exceeded his stature.

Espy sighed; the world seemed so peaceful now. Peace, that’s all she wanted, peace for her kids, for herself. The city had become too big, too crazy, too dangerous. She shuddered, remembering the night they’d been mugged.

The early morning sun hit the faded car hood and bounced into her eyes. She squinted, pulled down the visor, and looked outside. It was so quiet, so empty, so green. Strange, she thought, this late in summer, everything should be burnt brown.

A butterfly landed on the hood and slowly fanned its wings in the sun’s warmth. How beautiful, Espy thought, a welcoming committee. But would her father welcome her back? Aunt Lucy had called the past week and shared that Sam, despondent and lost in drink since his wife’s death, had disappeared.

Espy fondly patted the car’s dashboard, “You’re doing great, Barbara.”

She’d named it after the woman who’d inspired her to be a journalist. Sadly, this Barbara, a vintage Mercedes sedan with three different door colors, had none of the panache of her illustrious namesake. Espy turned the key. The engine moaned, coughed, and Barbara sputtered back to life.

Sticking her head out the window, Espy smelled the ocean. Not far now.

***

Behind a rock wall, two wary eyes peeked at the coughing car lurching past. The coyote sprang over the wall and loped across the deserted road.

Trickster was on the prowl.

***

To be continued-

Copyright 2024 Tio Stib