Dolores Elias, a twenty-year-old retail clerk who lived in the neighborhood, said the explosion sounded like the end of the world, and she saw people flying through the air “like flies.”

Firecrackers are often produced in small, home-based factories that are unregulated and lack proper safety equipment. They are usually used in rural areas to celebrate weddings, circumcisions, and other festivities.

Last month, a spark set off boxes of fireworks in a market in Celaya, killing 55 people, injuring hundreds, and levelling parts of the downtown area. Most of those killed or injured were buying firecrackers for the celebration of the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

While Jesus, Pita, and Nitro debated with alacrity why Solano would care enough about a firecracker explosion to keep a newspaper clipping in his wallet, Elizaveta summarized the story for Jack in English.

“Maybe Solano caused it?” Jack said.

Elizaveta frowned. “Set off explosion?”

“Could be why he ended up on this island. He was wanted by the cops and needed a place to hide out.”

“For fifty years?”

Pita was listening to them and said, “What about the photographs?”

“What about them?” Elizaveta said.

“They’re probably of his family. You think he’d just leave his family behind?”

“Maybe they died in explosion.”

“But if he caused it,” Jesus said, chiming in, “you really think he would stick around to search the rubble for family photos?”

“The photos are all the same size, wallet size,” Jack said. “Good chance he always had them in his wallet. Anyway, whatever,” he added. “It doesn’t matter what happened. The question is: why would he hide the wallet and pictures in a basket in a root cellar?”

Jesus shrugged. “Painful memories?”

Pita nodded. “He wanted to forget them, forget his old life.”

“Why bother even keeping the wallet and photos then? Why not—” Jack cut himself off, and when he spoke again his voice was low and edged with caution: “Eliza, don’t move.”

7

Elizaveta froze, her muscles in lockbolt, every nerve ending tingling with sudden alarm. “What?”

“There’s something on your back,” Jack said.

Pita and Jesus were crouched before her, while Jack and Nitro were to either side of her. They both had a view of her back.

“Oh, fuck,” Nitro said, seeing whatever Jack had seen.

“What is it?” she blurted.

Pita and Jesus both scrambled around behind her so they had a view too. They gasped.

“What is it?” She couldn’t feel anything on her back. Nevertheless, she wanted to tear off her top and toss it across the room. She didn’t do this though. Whatever was freaking everyone out might bite her.

Jack was up and moving, looking for something.

“What is it?” Elizaveta said.

“Stay still,” Nitro told her. Then to Jack: “Get the saw.”

Saw? Saw? Did they need to cut it off? What was it?