Moondogs - Alexander Yates [164]
Chapter 33
SUMMER
On the morning after the eruption Monique dusted off Reynato’s sooty Honda and drove back to Manila. News of the eruption—her eruption—was all over the morning radio shows. It wasn’t so bad, thank God. No deaths or injuries; only minor property damage. A tremor had run like a shock down the archipelago’s spine, causing Mount Pinatubo, Taal and Mount Apo to expel plumes of ash. Southwesterly winds carried most of the debris into the South China Sea, but areas downwind of the three peaks saw a few inches, including Subic, Manila and Manila Bay and most of Basilan. It wasn’t until she got back onto the expressway that they even mentioned Howard’s rescue on Corregidor Island. Very few had survived the firefight. Reynato Ocampo, inspiration for the Ocampo Justice films, was in the hospital, but his injuries were not life-threatening. How could they be, after all? He was Reynato Ocampo. The announcer actually said this.
Monique tried to visit him as soon as she returned to the city—because she was concerned, but also because the news hadn’t dampened her resolve to break things off with him. The guard at the door turned her away. Her protests of being with the embassy, of being a close personal friend, of having a message for Reynato were all met with the same mute headshake. Finally, after allowing a handful of reporters into the room without similar scrutiny, the guard admitted that he’d been instructed to keep her, specifically, away. He had a picture of her in his wallet—a picture Reynato had taken—with a note on the back that said she wasn’t to enter.
Furious, Monique waited for the shift change and snuck past when the new guy was in the bathroom. She understood right away why Reynato had wanted her out. He shared the double hospital suite with a second patient. It was the scarred man. The one with the face like hamburger; the one who had attacked them at Subic Bay; the one she’d pepper-sprayed in the eyeballs and chased into the bamboo thicket. His bed was surrounded by bouquets of artificial flowers, just like Reynato’s. The chart tied to the bedrail identified him as Lt. Racha Casuco.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to see you.” She turned to face Reynato, who was trying to sit up. “But I was afraid that this would be awkward.”
She walked toward him, slowly.
“Aaaaand … it is. Shocker.”
Still he was being cute? After what they’d both been through? She reached out quick and slapped him across the face. The sharp sound echoed in the tile room.
Reynato ran a finger under his lip and examined it for blood. There wasn’t any. “I deserve that.”
“I don’t need you to tell me.” She looked back at Racha, immobile and flower-decked. “You arranged for him to attack us?”
Reynato shifted in bed. It looked like shifting hurt him. “Me. He just attacked me. And he wouldn’t have hurt either of us. I was just hoping … I wanted to make some magic happen. I wanted you to see what you really are. I thought that if he attacked me, then maybe that’d be the kick in the pants you needed. Maybe you’d use your bruha—”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed. “I don’t need you to show me who I am. I know who I am.” Saying this aloud, it felt like she really believed it for the first time in a long time.
“I see that,” Reynato said, nodding. “I do. I figure the tremor means you figured it out all by yourself.” He paused, regarding her cautiously. She realized that even now he thought he had a chance with her. It suddenly became impossible to comprehend how just a few days ago the sight and smell and sound of him had been so pleasant.