"You are a brave warrior. You have come to join the Juarez National Liberation Front obviously."
"I fight alongside the good people of this earth wherever I find them," he said truthfully.
Her eyes shone with a mixture of gratitude and frank admiration. It was a look the Extinguisher had seen many, many times. He met it directly, with neither embarrassment nor false modesty.
"Well spoken. My name is Assumpta. I am from a village near here. I go to join the Juarezistas, even though I am but a woman."
"You are a brave woman."
She threw back her head proudly, lifting a defiant chin, tossing her hair with the motion. It was very thick and black. It explained why her head had seemed so large under her ski mask.
"The men of my village do not believe women can fight, nor that they should fight," she explained. "But I go anyway to avenge my brother, Ik, who perished at the hands of the federalistas. "
"Where you go, I go."
And in the darkness they shook hands firmly.
The Extinguisher had an ally. Whether circumstances would force him to betray her was unknown at this time. But for the moment they were a team.
"Subcomandante Verapaz, it is said, is marching on Mexico City," Assumpta said. "That is where I go."
"Lead the way. This jungle is new to me."
As they started off, the Extinguisher recovered his survival knife, sheathing it with a curt "Souvenir. Might come in handy."
They had donned their black masks again. The jungle accepted them into its cool, treacherous embrace. They moved as one, the Juarezista named Assumpta taking point. It was not the Extinguisher's way to let a woman take point, but it was her jungle so he figured it would be okay this time.
Besides, from the rear, he could better keep watch over her.
Not to mention the fact that he was really getting into the easy sway of her olive drab hips.
Chapter 27
The market town called Chi Zotz was nestled in the shadow of a tablelike mountain range. The air was clean and sweet, laden with budding wildflowers.
An English sign said WELCOME TO CHI ZOTZ. TURNING FOR PALENEQUE RUINS. FOOD, COLD SODA AND SAFE CAR PARKING. BIRTHPLACE OF SUBCOMANDANTE VERAPAZ.
Near the entrance to the town, a shawled woman stood outside an adobe home preparing a chicken dinner. She had the struggling chicken by the neck and, spreading her legs apart, wound up her arm.
She spun the bird in a circle twice. The neck snapped on the second revolution.
Examining the now-limp bird with satisfaction, she turned to reenter the home when Remo called out to her.
"Excuse me. Is Boca Zotz near here?"
"Boca Zotz is no more, senor. "
"Damn. What happened to it?"
"It has been renamed. It is now Chi Zotz, which means Bat's Mouth."
"Boca Zotz is this place, right?"
"No, this place is Chi Zotz. Boca Zotz is no more, senor. "
With that, the women vanished into the shadows of her home.
Remo drove on.
The town looked deserted. No one was in the tiny town square or walked the dirt streets. Painted slogans marred almost every blank surface available. Remo didn't need to understand much Spanish to understand defiant phrases like Solidaridad! Libertad! and Viva Verapaz!
"I caught you eyeing that fowl," Chiun said sharply.
"I was just thinking I could go for some duck right about now."
"I do not know what duck inhabits this land, but I would not eat it. Nor the fish. We will have rice, which is always safe to eat. Besides, chicken is unclean and unhealthful."
"People eat chicken all the time."
"Yes. Unknowingly."
"What do you mean unknowingly?"
"Chicken are incapable of urinating. This failure of hygiene fouls the fowl's tissues. To eat chicken is worse than consuming the flesh of pork."
Remo parked outside a dingy Spanish colonial building that suggested a restaurant because it sported a painted oval sign that looked exactly like a beer label. It said CARTA BLANCA. Soft ranchera music floated out.
When they entered, not a single glance came their way.
All eyes were glued to a flickering black-and-white TV set in one corner of the room. Chairs had been pulled up in a semicircle around the flickering TV light, but many people also stood around.
"Wonder what they're watching?" Remo asked Chiun.
"I do not know, but the odor of fear rises from them."
"Smells like chili and tacos to me," Remo grunted.
As they watched, he noticed a man in a white Texas hat make the sign of the cross.
"Could be coverage of the big earthquake," said Remo.
"I will ask."
Lifting his voice, the Master of Sinanju rattled off a rapid question in Spanish.
"El Monstruoso, " a man called back, making the sign of the cross himself.