Page 4 of Serving my Dragon
Apparently she did, hence why I ended up with a lizard riding my shoulder as I trekked back towards civilization. I didn’t follow the same path because I needed to shorten my route, seeing how my new friend had eaten a good portion of my supplies.
The overcast day meant I didn’t have to deal with the blazing sun, however, the humidity in the air kept things damp. If I kept my current pace, I’d make it out just after nightfall and could be in my air-conditioned casa, sitting in front of my television, eating ice cream while watching the never-ending drama on Papá en apuros. Don’t judge. Blame my mama and tías for getting me addicted to the popular telenovela.
Just after midday—during which my pollita ate more than me, despite her tiny body—I heard someone nearby. Probably some hikers. I’d crossed a few on my return journey. Oddly, the lizard chose to hide in my knapsack before each encounter. This time was no different. The reptile disappeared into my bag.
“Hello! Excuse me, sir. Can you slow down a second?”
The request in English had me frowning and pivoting to see who the person spoke to.
Me, apparently. A woman stumbled towards me, dirty and disheveled, her blonde hair a messy halo around her head, her clothing torn in a few spots and dusty with dirt and dried blood. A bruise on her temple looked painful.
“Oh, thank gawd,” the woman exclaimed, beaming at me with a relieved smile. “I thought I was going to be lost out here forever.”
“Do you require aid, miss?” I asked, able to reply to her in English.
“Heck yes, I do, starting with, where am I?”
What an odd question. “You’re in Charcani Chico.”
“Is that part of the Grand Canyon?” she inquired.
My brow furrowed. “No. That’s in the United States. You’re in Peru.”
“Peru?” she squeaked. “What the heck am I doing here?”
Why would she ask me? “I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am.” My gaze swept past the strange woman to see if she truly confronted me alone. Most scams targeted tourists, still, one could never be too cautious.
“I don’t know either.” She put a hand to the bruise on her head. “This headache is making my memories hazy.”
“Judging by your appearance, you seem to have suffered an accident.”
“Did I? I don’t remember.” She chewed on her full lower lip. “And what kind of accident would take me from Ohio to Peru? Do you think I was kidnapped?” Her eyes widened.
“Why would someone kidnap you from Ohio, fly you to Peru, and dump you in Charcani Chico?” I pointed out the absurdity of it.
“Then what happened? Why can’t I remember?” Her lips turned down.
True amnesia or faking it? The mottled mark on her appeared real enough. “You have a bruise on your temple that most likely caused your memories to get jumbled.”
“That would explain the throbbing in my head.”
“What is the last thing you recall?”
“Getting ready for the start of the school year. I teach kindergarten.”
She was a teacher? I had a difficult time imagining this voluptuous woman in front of a class of young children. “Perhaps you took an impromptu vacation.”
“To Peru?” She shook her and winced. “Doubtful. I don’t have the funds to simply take off, especially not so close to the start of school.”
The statement indicated she did remember some things. “Do you know your name?”
“Yup. Kayleigh Carmichael.” She beamed. “Born and raised in Sugarcreek, Ohio. I’m thirty-one years old and I like corny rom-coms, karaoke, and cooking. And you are?”
“Mathias Sanchez.”
“Do you live here in Peru or are you visiting?”
“Live.” Then because she kept staring expectantly, added, “I have a dental practice in Villa de Cayma.”
