Run (Part 6)
David lay in his bunk in the mostly-empty barracks. He was still pretty new to life in Iraq, but he was smart enough to take downtime seriously when he got it. He chewed the wad of tobacco that was stuffed into the side of his mouth as he watched his new roommate, Luis, who was bent over, pulling a shoebox out from under his bed.
David propped himself up on one arm. “Whatcha got there, Luis?”
Luis looked up, at David and smiled. Back home, David had only met a handful of non-white folks. They were always around, but his people didn’t typically make friends with theirs—and the feeling was generally mutual. But as they’d gotten to know one another over the previous few weeks, David had come to truly respect, even love, Luis and the other brothers-in-arms that he worked with. Despite Luis’s brown skin, he was a standup guy.
Luis opened his shoebox, revealing a large black candle, rosary beads, a box of matches, and a small framed portrait of a skeleton wearing nun’s robes. The skeleton held a scythe in one hand and a globe in the other.
Luis pulled the objects out, methodically, one after another. He first propped the portrait up so the undead nun stared at him. He then set the black candle down next to it, lighting it with a match. Finally, taking the rosary, he began flipping through them, one by one. Glancing up at David, Luis explained: “This is Santa Muerte. Back home, my tía would sometimes perform little services for folks who had been hurt by someone. She would pray to Santa Muerte for them, they would light a candle, and then...”
Luis trailed off. He looked at the painting of Holy Death, and in the flickering of the black candle, she looked back. “Well,” he said with a chuckle, “I don’t really know what would happen then. But I was always told that Santa Muerte would get revenge for those treated badly, sinned against. She would protect them from harm.”
David cocked a dubious eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Luis waved him off. “Listen man,” he said, “I know it sounds like bull****, and it probably is. But we’re out here fighting for our lives. It can’t hurt anything.” With that, Luis turned his back on David, picked up his rosary, and began muttering under his breath, down on his knees, looking intently to the lighted, robed skeleton.
Santa Muerte, gripping her scythe and her globe, looked right back.