Responsibility & revenge

[Jay Carpenter]

Present day

Zacarías Secada Amengual
El Tiburón, The Shark
El volcán

The restoration of the Nicaraguan coast attracted the right kind of attention. Months following the declaration of his intent, Zacarias’ reputation expanded. People loved his flags flitting on ocean breezes. ZA had a nice ring to it and looked sharp on a logo. ZA, Zacarias Amengual, built legitimate business circling around tourism and property; but tourism was a flashy word for trafficking and property a screen for the poverty surrounding it.

He disconnected the call mid-flight, tapped his lip and peered out the window. Vast swaths of green hills stretched the earth below like shag carpet. Volcanoes dotted the curve of the horizon, but the power rolling under the surface was a sight he could never see enough. Where Andres loved the water and adopted the moniker of El Tiburon, Zacarias was fascinated by the power of the churning earth, and El Volcan was a new name now shared on hushed lips.

The call ended not so positively for himself, but despite the shallow disappointment in his American caller, Zacarias was optimistic. The potential was flush for the future; like the power just threatening to spill over the edges, the world would soon swarm in his product. As soon as it was perfected. They were so close, he could taste it. The people of Nicaragua had a sampling though. The mighty rich filling his resorts were only teased; enough dead sons of rich bitches might destroy the undertaking before the product had a chance to bleed into the larger market. But the jungles were a vast, dense canopy. They held many bodies; forgotten and soon returned to the soil like any other organic decomposed matter.

He summoned a screen and swiped through the various company websites his American friend described. Although of Nicaraguan descent, the good doctor was born and raised in the States. He trained there as well, but he could not forego his roots for they delved deep as the foundations of those volcanoes and what was inherited by blood was not always skin-deep.

Lucky for that cockroach, Diaz, the doctor was next to nothing to Zacarias. He would soon cross swords with someone far more interesting.