The Lord of Opium

“The Bug tried that once,” said Listen. “He rocked Mbongeni’s crib back and forth until it fell over. Dr. Rivas put him into a straitjacket for a whole day.”

Matt had forgotten about the Bug. With luck, someone would have heard his screams by now, although Matt didn’t think his chances were good with Glass Eye Dabengwa’s soldiers. Of course, Dr. Rivas could have helped him, but the Bug was of no further use to him. The boy was just another rabbit.

Matt’s head hurt, and the aftereffects of the tranquilizer beads made him queasy.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Listen, shaking his arm.

Everything’s fine, Matt thought. Sor Artemesia, María, and Fidelito are hiding. Cienfuegos is missing. The Bug has lost a hand. Glass Eye Dabengwa has taken over Opium, and Mbongeni—

Glass Eye had needed a transplant as soon as he arrived. Matt was suddenly alert. That meant he was seriously ill and was probably close to death. Too bad Dr. Rivas hadn’t waited a few more hours before opening the border.

Matt shied away from what must have happened in the operating room, but he had to face it. He remembered the first time Celia fed him arsenic. She had known, as he did not, that El Patrón had suffered a heart attack. She had forced him to eat before going to the hospital, supposedly to visit the old man, but in reality to have his heart cut out.

The arsenic had made Matt so sick that he was unusable for a transplant. And El Patrón had to make do with a piggyback transplant, with a heart too small to do the job properly. Just as Glass Eye was making do with poor Mbongeni.

“I wish we could get fresh air,” Listen said. “The smoke is making me sick.”

Matt looked up to see the guards passing their hand-rolled cigarette back and forth. He pointed at the smoke and pretended to gag. One of the men opened the door. “Izvineete,” he said.

Matt calculated how fast he’d have to be to scoot out the door, but he couldn’t leave Listen behind. “Let’s see. Where was I? Samson was strong because he never cut his hair. It was a kind of magic.”

“Dr. Rivas says there’s no such thing as magic,” said Listen.

“Dr. Rivas is a jerk. One day Samson was out walking, and a lion attacked him. He killed it with his bare hands. Later he saw that a hive of bees had moved into the lion’s skin, and he ate some of the honey.”

“Didn’t the bees sting him?”

“They sure did, and Samson brushed them off like bread crumbs. Heroes don’t worry about things like that.” Matt told her about how Samson’s girlfriend Delilah betrayed him by cutting his hair off, and how Delilah’s friends turned him into a slave.

“His hair must have grown back,” said Listen, with her usual logic. “Then he could beat everyone up.”

“His hair did grow back, but nobody noticed because he was a slave. Samson waited and waited until he got his enemies all in one place. One night they had a big party, and they brought Samson out so they could make fun of him. Samson got hold of the posts holding up the house and pulled them down. The building fell on top of everyone and squashed them flat.”

“And Samson lived happily ever after,” finished Listen.

Too late Matt remembered how the story ended. “Not exactly,” he said.

“He got out, didn’t he?”

“I’m afraid not. He died along with his enemies. But he got revenge, and that’s important.”

“I don’t like that story,” Listen yelled. “I want a happy ending! He should have picked up a rock and let ’em have it.” She grabbed a pillow and began to pound it with her fists.

“It didn’t really happen,” said Matt.

“It’s a Bible story. Sor Artemesia says they’re all true.”

Listen started to cry, and one of the guards came over and thumped himself on the chest. “Samson,” he announced. He flexed his muscles.

“Did you understand what we were talking about?” asked Matt.

“Nyet. Samson.” Thump, thump.

“That’s his name,” Listen said delightedly. “What’s the other guy called? Delilah?”

“De-lee-lah,” said Samson, pointing at his fellow guard and mincing around.

“Boris,” corrected the other guard. Now he came over and with gestures invited Listen to a game of scissors, paper, rock. They had seen that the little girl was upset and wanted to cheer her up. For thugs, they weren’t too bad.

Night came, or what Matt supposed was night. There was no window in the room. The men made gestures that indicated sleep. They turned off the light but left the bathroom door ajar. Matt still had Tam Lin’s flashlight, and they used that to move around in the dark.