"Mr. Hueso!" they were already on Salvadorian territory when the suited one woke him up thusly.
He aroused to consciousness in a semi-abandoned graveyard, around noon, in the near-equatorial heatwave.
"Where am I?" he asked, with the voice of a half-dead man.
"In my native village. We arrived."
"What native... nohh-NOOO! GO AWAAAAAY!"
He got scared good and proper, once he was sufficiently awake. The skeleton has already thrown away his wrestler mask, while the ex-detective's anterograde amnesia symptoms have started to manifest again. He had to desensitize again to the sight of that bare skull, everything had to be re-explained to him. But first, he had to eat.
"Take this, enjoy your meal!" he handed some freshly roasted meat to the one laying on the ground.
Mr. Hueso reflexively grabbed the slightly bloody, sizeable piece of flesh. No matter his sudden fright, no matter his mental fog, he still had enough intellect working in him, to suspect that he's merely hallucinating the skeleton, due to being so malnourished. He began to gobble up his food with animalistic impatience.
"What is this?" he asked, only when he had to pause for a breath.
"A local villager, who spotted me carrying you."
Luckily, he fainted before he could vomit. He required the sustenance, he needed energy. They had a great big job to undertake tonight.
YOU ARE READING
A skeleton's trek
Mystery / ThrillerA resurrected Central American skeleton seeks out a New Yorker psychiatrist. An amnesiac FBI agent visits a fortune teller in East Harlem. Both of them get confronted with much more terrible truths than the troubles for which they sought help. May e...
