Mother’s Nature

“We haven’t heard from her,” said Hector. “Not a word.” He hiss-sipped from a paper cup.

“What’d you want me to do?” asked Rocky.

He seemed doubtful an old lady would come to the door if she saw him knocking. He only wore black and his left arm was gone. He looked like the reason people locked their doors.

Early morning, the sun came up waking bluish hills with warm color. They sat in Hector Rosales’ ’87 Jeep Cherokee and drank coffee. Crisp morning air shared the resinous scent of pine, sage and redshank mixed with the aroma of Folgers’s.

Hector lived on the Manzanita Indian Reservation. He was parked in one of the Tribal Parking slots near the front door of the Golden Acorn Casino in Boulevard, California. The parking lot was several acres. Rocky had parked some distance away from the casino entrance with the other Gringos.

“Just check her out, Rockito. See if she’s okay.”

“She won’t know who I am.”

“She’ll know,” Hector tapped his head in a knowing way. “She’s a curandera, a powerful one.”

“You afraid to go yourself?”

“She’s harmless,” said Hector.

Rocky knew he was acting innocent.

“Then why not you?” asked Rocky.

“C’mon Rock, got a business to run in Mexicali.”

Rocky knew the Tuna Club took all of Hectors time. Being the owner of a bar and brothel and operations manager of the Mexicali Cartel was time consuming. But Hector was his best friend. So why not help him out?

“Okay. Okay. She spooks me out,” said Hector, shaking his head.

“What I Thought,” Rocky grinned. “Sounds like she can take care of herself.”

“She’s tough.” Hector gave Rocky a funny look. “But Rocky, one thing I gotta warn you about.”

“What, she’s gonna eat me?”

Hector got quiet and stared at Rocky.

Rocky gave Hector a cold look. He worked as a hired killer and was used to giving death. But took the loss of a loved one hard. His remark had opened an event from the past. It was the day of the bomb blast that killed his lover Bo Kwan and when he lost his left arm. He had accidently tasted her blood. The experience still haunted him. Now Rocky tasted the blood of his victims in hope of bringing back her spirit. So far he had found nothing of her essence.

“You okay Rock?”

“Sorry Hector,” said Rocky. “What I said took me back to Macao and Bo Kwan.”

“Ah hell, I’ll look up Moya,” said Hector.

“No, I’m okay,” said Rocky. “Just need to know if she’s dangerous?”

“Don’t think so,” said Hector. “I mean she can be weird.”

“Then what is it?”

“If she offers you something, just don’t take it.”

“Like what?”

“You gotta know she’s a fucking witch,” Hector groaned.

“So you don’t know.”

“Not really.”

“I’m packing my magnum.”

“I would too,” said Hector.

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