Guereca said, “Do I bring the stuff back up here when I’m through?”
“No. Leave the applicators and the container.”
Guereca asked, “How much time do I have?”
“Thirty minutes. The process is exact. These tanks are thin walled, so it will not take more than that.”
“Bueno.” He went down the ridge to the tank and squatted in front of it. Guereca removed the lid on the glass container and dipped the odd glass swab into it, then turned to the tank, painting it in smooth, even strokes.
When he finished, Guereca dropped his brush and stood, saying, “That wasn’t so bad.”
He re-climbed the ridge to stand beside Holland, who watched Riffey through binoculars.
Riffey was in the village, talking to a young girl as she fed her goats. Several people were doing chores, with old women tending small cooking fires while men and boys weeded the gardens and fed the pigs and chickens.
Holland lowered the binoculars and looked at his wristwatch. It was time.
The corrosive liquid ate through the tanks so evenly that the painted square disintegrated all at once. The sound was a sharp hiss as the pressurized liquid shot out and instantly turned to gas.
The snake-green cloud erupted so fast Holland jumped back and yelled “Get in the Bronco!” as he scrambled on his hands and knees toward the old vehicle. The three men dove inside and slammed the doors as yellow-green fog surrounded them, swirling and moving like a sentient cloud over the windshield.
“We are in Hell!” Guereca said as he panicked and claustrophobia overwhelmed him, “We are going to die!”
Holland grabbed his arm and applied enough pressure to make Guereca wince, “We are safe inside here. There are no leaks, so it will not get in the cab with us. The gas is heavier than air and will soon flow down to the lowest level it can descend to. After that, it will dissipate over the hours, leaving little trace.”
***
Riffey found out the girl’s name was Lourdes and she was 15. He enjoyed watching her with the animals. She had names for each one, and gave all of them attention and scratches on the head as she fed them handfuls of corn.
It had been a long time since he felt like an ordinary, normal person rather than a soldier or mercenary or marijuana smuggler. It was nice, and he started to think about maybe living here in this village, and finding someone to settle down with, someone like an older Lourdes. The thought brought him more peace than he could have imagined.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to looked up the canyon at a monster. The yellowish green cloud boiled like a thunderhead and filled the canyon from side to side, higher than the pines along the edges. It was silent, and rolling down the canyon faster than a horse could run.
He was transfixed. The cloud covered everything like a terrible blanket, and when it swept over pigs and chickens, he heard their alarmed squawks and squeals die quickly to strangling, terrible sounds of things dying. It soon reached the first huts and blanketed them, then the goats, the river and the plaza. Several people tried to run, but it overwhelmed them and they disappeared into the silent green cloud that stayed on the ground and moved relentlessly toward him.
Lourdes grasped his arm and pulled, “Run!” There was no place to go but the end of the canyon and the waterfall that dropped sheer for fifty feet to a pool of boulders and water.
Riffey ran with her, and glanced back to see the green hell gaining on them. The smell reached them, and burned their nostrils and lungs. Another glance showed the first edges of the cloud only twenty yards behind, with trailers of mist curling on the ground ahead of it like ghostly snakes.
He checked left and right, but there was no way to climb out high enough to escape. He pointed ahead and told Lourdes, “Jump!” He ran faster, hoping to get far enough out to clear the rocks and land in the center of the small pool at the bottom of the falls.
They reached the edge and Riffey leaped high and as far as he could. He bicycled all the way down and shot though the water to hit the bottom so hard he twisted an ankle. He pushed off and surfaced, looking first at the top of the falls, then for Lourdes.
He saw her near the edge of the splashing water. She did not clear the boulders. Lourdes lay on her back, rolling her head back and forth in the shallow water as if confused.
Riffey swam to her and saw the broken arm first, then he realized her back was broken. He touched her and said, “Lourdes, don’t move. I’m here.”
The strong smell reached him. Like straight bleach shot into his nostrils and into his lungs. His eyes instantly streamed tears and clear mucous ran from his nose in thick strings.
Green, vaporous strands leaked over the falls and spilled down to the pool, spreading on top of the water. He tried to move Lourdes and she screamed. She could not walk out of here, and he could not carry her, the terrain was far too rough to do
it, even with two good ankles.
Riffey inhaled and gagged from the stench. Lourdes coughed and strangled, then huffed and fought to breathe. Riffey looked up again. The green streamers were thicker, much thicker. Lourdes moaned, and seemed to recognize him. “I am sorry,” Riffey said.
He cradled her torso in his arms and as gently as he could, moved her to a second boulder two feet lower under the surface. The cloud’s smell made him retch, and his lungs and eyes burned as clear snot ran from his nostrils. Lourdes vomited and gagged as she struggled to breathe.
Riffey put his hands gently on both sides of her face and said again, “I’m sorry.”