Hurricane Gold Read online

  The road, which was slightly raised, stretched away across submerged fields towards the distant mountains of the Sierra Madre Oriental. The devastation caused by the storm seemed to go on forever. The wind and rain had scoured the countryside, drowning the land, stripping the crops and flattening trees. There were dead cows floating everywhere, their bodies swelling in the heat.

  James joined the procession and they crept forward, the sun burning down on to their heads. It was stop–start all the way and James had to keep turning the engine off to prevent it from overheating. By mid afternoon they had travelled only a few miles and the three of them were hot and grumpy and frustrated. Precious had done nothing but complain all day. She complained about leaving Tres Hermanas, she complained about James’s driving, she complained about the other people on the road, she complained that her cut hand was hurting, she complained when JJ complained that his cut leg was hurting. She complained about her servants.

  ‘They probably planned the whole thing with that woman,’ she said. ‘I bet they planned to rob us all along. You can’t trust a Mexican. That policeman, he was the same. He didn’t care one jot that we are in trouble. They hate us. They hate us because we are American, because we are rich…’

  At first James tried to forgive her. She was tired and scared and missing her father. She had shown some courage during the storm, but she wore him down, and no matter how hard he tried to shut her voice out of his head, it whined on like a fly trapped in a jar.

  By the time the sun was setting and the light fading from the land they could just make out the town of Puente Nuevo up ahead, but they had come to a virtual standstill. Nothing seemed to be moving and the people were getting even more packed together on the road.

  In the end, James found a relatively dry spot and pulled over to the side so that they could sleep.

  The night was crystal clear and cold. The great black dome of the sky was studded with thousands of shining stars. A full moon shone down, turning the standing water silver. James marvelled about how the deadly, stinging rain of last night had created this magical scene.

  He sat there watching the endless procession of people passing slowly along the road in silence.

  As the night became colder they wrapped themselves in the blankets that James had brought from the house and tried to get some sleep.

  By sunrise most of the refugees from Tres Hermanas had passed by. There were a few stragglers, but the road was much clearer.

  ‘We should make better progress today,’ James told Precious when she woke up.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said and checked her appearance in a small vanity mirror she had brought along.

  She was not pleased.

  ‘I look a fright,’ she moaned. ‘My hair is a mess. My face is sunburnt. This is a disaster.’

  James ignored her and prepared a breakfast of stale bread and cheese. They drank some of their precious water, and then, with a cool breeze blowing, James gunned the Duesenberg towards Puente Nuevo.

  They overtook a couple of broken-down vehicles: an ancient truck with twenty or so patient Mexicans squatting in the shade it cast as the driver tried to repair the engine, and a dusty Ford with a flat tyre. Then they came to a party of nuns on mules going the other way. James presumed they wanted to see if there was anything they could do to help out in Tres Hermanas.

  As they went past, the nuns pointed back towards Puente Nuevo, and all talked at once in high anxious voices.

  ‘What are they saying?’ said Precious.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘My Spanish isn’t that good.’

  ‘Something about a river,’ said JJ.

  James noticed another broken-down truck further along the road. As he was idly looking at it, he saw, with a shock, that there was a safe loaded on to the back of it. He made slits of his eyes and squinted into the glare of the sun.

  There were three men standing next to the truck. Unmistakably members of the gang who had come to the Stones’ house the night before.

  ‘Squash down on the floor and cover yourselves with the blankets,’ he hissed to his passengers.

  ‘Why?’ said Precious.

  ‘Just do it,’ said James. ‘And do it quickly. There are some people up ahead you don’t want to meet. This car’s pretty conspicuous and they’re bound to give it a look-over.’

  Precious and JJ did as they were told, and as soon as they were clear of the dawdling nuns James put his foot down and shifted gear.

  The engine gave a great crackling roar and James was forced back into his seat as they leapt forward. By the time they came to the truck, they were travelling at speed and the three men were a faceless blur. James kept his foot down, gripping the wheel tightly as he steered along the uneven, pitted road. For a moment all his worries were forgotten and he felt a wild exhilaration. He wanted to whoop and howl and drive on recklessly, but the next thing he knew they had arrived at Puente Nuevo, a jumble of buildings tightly packed together on either side of a wide river.

  The town was busy with refugees and James had to slow down and drive carefully through the narrow, winding streets, scared that he might run someone down.

  Puente Nuevo had been built long before cars had been invented and the length of the Duesenberg made it difficult to get round some bends. At one point they came to a crumbling archway and James scraped the side of the car trying to fit through it.

  ‘Be careful, you clumsy idiot,’ said Precious, wincing.

  ‘Perhaps you’d rather drive,’ said James.

  Precious said nothing in response to this and they drove on in angry silence until they came to the tail end of a traffic jam. A bus and several cars were stuck, and there was no room to turn round. The buildings on either side cut out all the light and kept the street in inky shade.

  ‘You said it would be better today,’ said Precious, grumpily.

  ‘I was wrong,’ said James.

  ‘Can’t you do anything right?’

  ‘It seems not.’

  ‘We’d be better off by ourselves. You’re only making matters worse, dragging us across the countryside.’

  James turned off the engine.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘That’s it. You’re on your own.’ He got out of the car and slammed the door.

  ‘Don’t leave us,’ whined JJ.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Precious, ‘he doesn’t mean it. He’s calling our bluff.’

  ‘Am I?’

  JJ began to cry.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a baby,’ said Precious. ‘If this rude English boy wants to abandon us, then let him. I’ve had enough of him.’

  ‘I like him,’ said JJ. ‘He saved us.’

  ‘You do not like him,’ said Precious. ‘I forbid it. You are my brother and you will do as I say.’

  James leant on the side of the car and glared at the girl.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go and see what the hold-up is. You can be here or not when I get back, I don’t much care either way. The choice is yours. If you want to go and find someone else to help you, that’s fine with me. But if you are here, you’re going to put up with me. All right? You’re going to stop complaining and you’re going to do as you’re told.’

  ‘Well,’ said Precious. ‘I think you have shown us your true colours, James Bond. You go off, if you like, but I can tell you now, we will not be here when you get back.’

  ‘Good,’ said James and he strode off angrily and squeezed past the bus.

  The street opened out into a small, busy square. On the far side was a bridge that was choked with traffic. James realised that it must be the only way across the river, which was why everything had slowed down last night as people approached the town.

  Garcia had said that they’d find the nurses in the mission house on the other side of the river. It looked like it would be some time before they could make it over. He wondered if there was anywhere he could buy some fresh food while they were waiting, but could see no shops or st
alls.

  There was a gaggle of excited villagers along the riverbank, and he now saw that some of them were carrying sandbags and rocks and bits of masonry. He went over to see what they were doing and his heart sank.

  The level of the river was dangerously high, and the locals were trying to shore up the bank.

  He looked back towards the bridge. The people making their way over looked nervous. The people waiting to cross looked even more nervous.

  If the river burst its banks there would be chaos.

  A thin trickle of water had already started to snake across the flagstones near the water’s edge. Four men rushed over with shovels and a wheelbarrow. They frantically started shovelling sand and grit into the breach.

  It was hopeless – just as they stopped up one gap another one would open up, until soon there were three or four small streams flowing into the square.

  James had spent many happy hours on the beach when he was younger, building dams across streams. Half the fun of it was watching the dams give way when the pressure of water behind got too great. He remembered just how quickly a tiny dribble coming over the top could soon turn into a raging torrent and wash away everything in its path.

  He turned and ran back towards the street where the Duesenberg was parked, then dodged in and out of the line of cars until he saw Precious and JJ waiting for him.

  ‘I wanted to leave but JJ insisted we stay,’ said Precious.

  ‘We’re not out of danger yet,’ said James, vaulting over the side into the driver’s seat.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Precious.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here, fast,’ said James, putting the car into reverse. Luckily there was no one behind them. ‘The river’s about to flood,’ he explained. ‘That must be what those nuns were trying to tell us.’

  He twisted round in his seat and started to move the car slowly backwards.

  ‘Look,’ said JJ.

  James faced the front. Water was beginning to stream down the road. A young girl and a woman carrying a baby squeezed past them, shouting.

  ‘Hell,’ said James. ‘It’s coming faster than I feared.’

  He stepped on the accelerator and reversed as quickly as he dared, bumping and scraping the car on both sides as he went. Precious shouted at him to be careful, but in a moment there was a great roaring, rushing sound and her shouts turned to screams of terror.

  James risked looking back the way they had come.

  A wall of water was surging down the street, pushing everything in front of it.

  He was going to have to try to outrun it.

  9

  The Return of Angel Corona

  Swollen by the abnormal amount of rain that had been dumped on the countryside, the river was carrying twice as much water as it would normally hold. There were breaks all along its length that were harmlessly spilling water on to the land, but here in Puente Nuevo, where it squeezed through the town, its pent-up force was potentially lethal.

  And now that force had been released, and it rushed free, like a genie from a lamp. Water surged through the narrow streets, searching for a way out. Anything in its path was picked up and bowled along.

  There was nowhere to turn the car around and James could do nothing except drive backwards down the street, the Duesenberg’s meaty engine howling in complaint.

  He was just managing to keep ahead of the racing flood, but a car can only go so fast in reverse, and the water was gaining on them.

  ‘Faster,’ Precious shouted.

  ‘I can’t go any faster,’ James protested.

  They came to the archway the car had clipped earlier. James swore. It had been hard enough getting through forward, going through backwards at speed was going to be nigh on impossible.

  Just as he feared, they hit the opening at the wrong angle and the car crunched to a halt, throwing the children back against their seats.

  They were wedged in the arch, unable to go either forward or backwards. They had lost the race. Before they had a chance to recover from the crash, the water hit them, smashing into the front of the car and foaming up over the bonnet.

  Unable to flow through the archway, the water rose steadily. Soon it was pouring over the top of the doors.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ said James. ‘We’ll have to get out.’

  ‘My things,’ wailed Precious.

  ‘Leave them,’ said James. ‘You’ll be drowned.’

  It was a mad scramble but the three of them just made it out of the rear of the car, which was acting like a giant cork stuck in the archway. Some of the water was getting past, but the bulk of it was being held back.

  James, Precious and JJ hurried down the street, ankle deep in filthy water. JJ was limping badly.

  ‘The car should stop it for a while,’ said James. ‘We might be in luck.’

  Even as he said it, though, there was a groan and a crack behind them and James looked round to see part of the arch give way and fall into the street. He took hold of JJ’s hand and pulled him faster.

  The next moment the rest of the arch collapsed and the car sailed out, like a great steel gondola.

  It barrelled down the street towards them, carried along by the sheer force of water behind it.

  Precious screamed.

  James tried to speed up, but it was difficult running through the rising water, which tugged at his legs. It was clear they would never make it as far as the next side street. James desperately looked for an open window or door, but the houses were all still closed up after the storm. Then he spotted, about 15 feet ahead, a stairway leading up on to the roof of a building.

  ‘If we can just make it to those steps we’ll be all right,’ he said, picking up JJ. With nothing to weigh her down, Precious overtook him, running surprisingly fast in her dress.

  Behind them they could hear the rushing, roaring sound of the water and the car grinding nearer and nearer, banging and crunching into the walls on either side.

  ‘Hold on,’ James gasped to JJ. His legs were giving out and he hoped he would have the strength to reach the steps.

  Precious got there safely and raced up to the roof. James was right behind her, but so was the car. It knocked into him and he lost his footing, then something else bashed into him and JJ was torn from his arms.

  James was thrown forward on to the steps, the water washed over him like a wave, then, coughing and spluttering, he got to his feet and dragged himself to the roof.

  ‘Where’s JJ?’ he gasped, sick that he had lost the boy when he had been so close to safety. ‘Can you see him?’

  Precious pointed into the street, too terrified to speak.

  There was JJ, being carried off by the water, clinging to the bonnet of the car.

  ‘We’ve got to help him,’ Precious yelled and James quickly looked out across the flat roofs to get his bearings. There was a clear view of the town from here, and he could see water flowing down all the streets on this side of the river. He saw the route that the car would take and he plotted his own route across the rooftops.

  ‘What can we do?’ Precious shouted.

  James sprinted along the roof and jumped across to the next house, and then the next, keeping pace with JJ. He thought that he could take a short cut and maybe get ahead of the car and, as he raced along, he checked the way ahead. Luckily the buildings were tightly packed, but there were still a couple of hair-raising gaps that he had to get across.

  He didn’t stop to think twice. He was used to this sort of thing and he ran as fast as he could, timing his jumps perfectly. The first wide gap he took in one clean jump, and on the second one he landed on his belly on the edge of the next building and, despite being badly winded, he scrabbled up and carried on.

  His calculations were right. Soon he had overtaken the flood. He ran on until he found the perfect spot and threw himself off the roof just as the car passed beneath him.

  He landed in the front seat. The car rocked from side to side. He held on. The Duesenb
erg was half full of water, but it was still afloat. And JJ was still clamped to the bonnet and holding on for dear life.

  James stretched a hand out over the windscreen towards the little boy.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right. Just stay calm.’

  JJ looked at him and nodded.

  ‘Can you reach me?’ said James.

  JJ said nothing. He steeled himself, then let go with one hand and held it, shaking, in the air. James grabbed hold and hauled him into the car.

  ‘That was kind of fun,’ said JJ, but James could feel his whole body trembling.

  ‘It’s not over yet,’ said James.

  ‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’ said JJ.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You won’t leave us, will you? Whatever Precious says.’

  ‘No. Everything’s going to be all right now.’

  But what James hadn’t seen was that just ahead of them three streets came together. Water was pouring down all of them and meeting in a great churning, foaming, turbulent mess of scummy yellow floodwater at the junction.

  The car steamed into the middle of it and its nose went under, throwing James and JJ out. James was spun over and over, round and round, with no idea which way was up and which was down.

  He was smashed into the wall of a building, then dragged along the ground, then somehow he was thrown clear and found himself washed up on someone’s window ledge.

  He vomited up a bellyful of water and looked for any sign of JJ.

  Two dead bodies washed past, but neither of them was JJ, thank God. And then he saw a tiny dark shape bobbing in the waves. It was JJ’s head. There was no way James could get to him, though. To go back into the water would be suicide.

  Maybe the boy would stay afloat. The escaping floodwater couldn’t go on like this forever. Sooner or later it would peter out.