Excerpts: Hope Dies Last
Still carrying a crying Young Cash, Alvaro hurried to open the office door. He cried out when he saw Sara. She was lying on the floor, tied up, struggling to breathe through her nose. Her head, face and arms were badly bruised and bloody. There were two open cuts, still bleeding, stubbornly, on the top of her head. Her mouth had been taped shut. There were tears on her cheeks. Alvaro set Y.C. down on the floor. He was looking at his mother, touching her arms and crying.
Alvaro gently removed the tape, then he untied her hands and feet. He hurried to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel that he carefully set on her head. During this, he asked, worriedly, “How badly are you hurt?”
“I’ll live.” She paused, took a slow painful breath.
“Can you tell me what you remember?”
Sara nodded, winced, took another breath. “There were two of them, skilled professionals… I got the first one, but I had to turn around… the other one cracked my head from behind, with some kind of Billy club… twice…” She took another slow breath.
Alvaro frowned, took her hand…
She squeezed his hand. “Later, when I was tied up, they beat me up… my body, my arms, my face. They used the Billy club again. I think they cracked one or two bones in my ribs…”
“Bastards… Were they after the photo?”
“Yes. They wanted to know where the flash was…
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Alvaro was sleeping in a chair in Sara’s room. She, too, was sound asleep, in the hospital bed they’d assigned to her. It was 2:30 a.m. A knock on the door woke Alvaro up. He opened the door to an older well-worn policeman with two other policemen behind him.
“Hello,” the policeman began. “I’m Detective Rafael, Luis’s friend.” He showed Alvaro his ID, then said. “You must be Alvaro. We talked on the phone…”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m sorry to show up like this, but I wanted to talk to you now, in person.”
Alvaro nodded, concerned about Rafael’s expression.
Rafael pointed at the other policemen behind him. “These men work for me and they’re here to protect you and your family.”
Alvaro looked at all of them. “Why?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“What’s wrong?” just came out of Alvaro’s mouth.
“After you called, I went looking for Luis. When I couldn’t reach him on the phone, I called his father, Miguel.” He paused, clearly upset. “He hadn’t heard from him yet. He came with me to his hotel. I’m sorry to tell you this… but we found him, dead in his room.”
“No, oh no…” Alvaro cried out, “Oh, Jesus, no…” He covered his eyes, tearing now. “How?…”
“He was beaten, then they slit his throat.”
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That’s when Stanley spotted the first fishing boat, the one Corey was piloting, turn into their secluded cove. He signaled to Ruben and Carlos, who were bringing out high powered assault weapons. As they raised their assault rifles pointed at the first fishing boat, a second, then a third, and finally a fourth fishing boat surrounded the yacht in a semicircle, blocking their exit from the secluded hidden cove. In the boats, the fishermen and fisherwomen had taken cover. The snipers were in position, ready to fire, but hidden from sight.
Cash spoke into a bullhorn, “Stanley, this is Cash Logan. We’re here to free General Lopez. Put down your weapons and no one will get hurt.”
Stanley didn’t respond. Instead, he turned, gave a signal, and Ruben and Carlos began firing, each one on a different boat.
Instantly, before they could do any real damage, one sniper killed Ruben and another one killed Carlos. They tumbled to the deck, each of them shot in the head. It happened so suddenly that people on deck, including Stanley, were stunned, shocked.
Cash spoke again, loudly, “Raise your hands, all of you, instantly, or more of you will die.”
Stanley, Johan and Tim raised their hands.
Cash went on, “Several of our soldiers, and others, are going to board your boat, take you prisoner and free the General. You will be killed at the slightest effort or movement to escape.” A sniper fired a shot over Stanley’s head, a convincing warning.
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Not surprisingly, Callie had prepared a lovely dinner, as only she could do it, for everyone else. She had two charcoal grills going outside in front of cabin twelve. Old plates from the cabins were set on two tables they’d attached together. The Macher had inexplicably found, then set up, a combination of flame lit outdoor oil lamps and tabletop torches on each table so that there was more than enough light to see dinner and each other.
Abe, Callie and the Macher where especially pleased to finally see the General alive and well. They’d each worried, privately, that they’d never see him again. After a quiet, heartfelt moment, Callie raised a glass, “Mario, General Lopez, I’d like to propose a toast. I think I can speak for all of us that being here with you is a special moment… We’re a very close, very private, unconventional, extended family. It’s a loving group that has been together through many difficult situations—fierce adversaries, life threatening, unexpected hardships with dear friends and family member’s lives at stake. It’s a hard group to be part of, harder still to be accepted or included into. When you were kidnapped, when we feared for your life, all of us realized how you, in your low key, singular way, had become an important part of our extended family. Without drawing attention to yourself, you gently worked your way into our hearts… We’re thrilled that you’re safe. We’re proud, we’re lucky to call you a true friend… Mario Lopez we love you so very much.”
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After a festive interlude, General Mario Lopez, raised a large glass of scotch. He looked around purposely, making eye contact with each and every one of them, then offered, “I can’t tell you all how happy, how grateful, I’m feeling being with all of you tonight. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, but because of you, my extraordinary friends, I never lost hope. Early on, after they captured me, I started thinking about you. I actually came to understand something significant, after all of you rescued me… I saw the importance, the enormous value of hope.
The Macher asked, “I do know an expression that’s relevant. May I add a little something?”
“Of course.”
“The expression is “Hope Dies Last.” That expression came from a woman, a retired farm worker, she was recounting the days before Cesar Chavez and his stoop-labor colleagues founded the United Farm Workers… Studs Terkel, a wonderful writer, immortalized the farm worker, de la Cruz’s, words in his book Hope Dies Last: Keeping the Faith in Difficult Times… I think it’s what we, here, in our small extended family, work to do together.”
“Yes, you helped me understand that… Hope Dies Last… I never lost hope because of you, my dear new friends… Truthfully, you saved my life.”