The Visitor

By Nelson Ancalmo

The prophecy has become a reality!
A stranger who washes up on a Central American beach triggers a series of events that changes the lives of the people who come to know him.
When his true identity and the reason for his presence is revealed, the entire world must confront one of the most feared events in human history: The Second Coming of Christ.
Through the heartbreaking journey of this unique man, the tragedy of illegal immigration becomes a reality, and the need for laws that would protect those attempting such a hazardous trip becomes evident.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nelson Ancalmo
• Release date: Apr 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311192929

Nelson Ancalmo

Nelson Ancalmo M.D. was born in San Salvador, El Salvador, Central America. After finishing his Medical School, he traveled to the United States to complete his training in Cardio-Vascular Surgery. Presently he is retired and lives in Austin, Texas where he devotes his free time to writing, graphic design, astronomy and music. e-mail: [e-mail]

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BOOK ONE: THE ARRIVAL

"Therefore be on the alert,

for you do not know which day

your Lord is coming"

(Matthew 24:42)

Chapter 1

It came suddenly, out of no where, unannounced. The local weather forecast had predicted only a few clouds, no chance of rain and the first day of the new moon.

When it hit the coast, it was a powerful storm. The wind was gusting at over fifty miles per hour, the rain was heavy and in sheets, and the worst was the lightning. Almost constant flashing streaks of fire covered the skies with the most intricate and frightening patterns, and the thunder was deafening, like a million trumpets blasting the air proclaiming the end of the world.

The people in the small city by the sea were already in bed at this time of night, and for most of them the storm went unnoticed. A few late wanderers having a last drink were caught unprepared and had to run for safety.

For the fishermen it was different. They lived in small huts close to the sea, so they were awake, concerned about the safety of their boats, and afraid for their own survival. But the storm lasted less than an hour and then, the stars came out, and the wind and the lightning and the thunder disappeared, and the night was quiet, with the smell of fresh rain on the ground and the sound of waves peacefully breaking at the shore.

Chapter 2

Somewhere near El Puerto de La Libertad, El Salvador, Central America, 5am Sunday.

Sargento Lopez! Sargento Lopez, wake up! It’s an emergency!

He was pounding on the faded, green-painted, salt-rusted door of the local Police Headquarters. He was excited and scared. It was not the first time he has seen one of those, but this one was different, and he felt the urge to get somebody to help him. The first person he thought of was the Sargento. He was the local authority and surely he would know what to do.

Antonio was only ten years old and if his father knew where he was, he would beat the hide off his back. He was on his way to get their boat ready for the daily fishing trip when he saw a body lying face down at the edge of the water under the pier. He ran to see if he could be of any help, and completely forgot about the boat.

It was still dark, but the sun was coming up and there was enough light to see that this man was not one of the local guys. Antonio knew them all. He was like everybody’s friend, always ready to help them, always sharing some imaginary fishing story, and these rough fishermen saw him as their good luck charm.

The man lying down on the beach was an outsider, maybe somebody from another fishing town, or maybe the survivor of a distant shipwreck. Antonio remembered the fearsome thunderstorm that hit the area the night before. He’d been really scared with all the thunder, the lightning, and the wind. He thought it had been the worst storm he had ever witnessed, and at ten years and living on the coast, he’d seen all kinds of storms. That could explain the presence of this man on the beach.

The Sargento was not answering his call. Maybe he was drunk? Or maybe he was not there? Antonio gave up and ran back to the pier. It was only a couple of blocks away and he felt responsible for the man lying there. By the time he reached him, the tide was coming up and the water was partially covering the body.

Antonio didn’t know what to do. The body looked heavy. How could he pull him out of the water? At this time on a Sunday morning the beach was deserted. Most of the fishermen were already out at sea, and he was supposed to be there with his father in their boat.

My father, he’s going to kill me! I forgot the boat, and it’s getting late, but I can’t leave this man here, he’ll drown.

Antonio realized at this moment that he was not sure if the stranger was alive or dead. He approached him slowly and kicked him in the foot. With the help of the next wave he turned him over and got close to him. He listened carefully. There was breathing, but very shallow. The eyes were closed, and the face, although serene, was covered with severe sunburns. A heavy beard and mustache and long hair disguised his appearance. It was difficult to say where he came from.

Oh my God, Virgen Santa, he’s alive! I need to get him out before the tide pulls him back to the deep.

He turned around and in the distance saw the answer to his prayers. Lying over a tree stump washed on the shore was an old wooden wheelbarrow. He ran and brought it next to the man. The waves were getting stronger and he was running out of time.

He placed the wheelbarrow on its side and using all of his strength, he managed to slide the man into it. He felt the pull of the riptide now up to his ankles, and with a final effort he pushed and reached the firmer part of the beach.

The sun was up by now and a few people were looking down from the pier and wondering what was going on. Antonio didn’t wait any longer. His young but powerful body was pushing the wheelbarrow with the man inside as fast as he could. He was heading home. He had to tell his father what was happening and he was hoping he would understand and help this unfortunate man.

Chapter 3

Guadalupe Ramos was born in a small village north of El Puerto. His mother, a single woman like most of those that gave birth in these areas, named him Guadalupe because he was born on December the twelfth, and that was the day consecrated to the Virgen de Guadalupe, and it just so happened that she was a devotee. The fact that Guadalupe was a name of female gender didn’t make her change her selection. He was born on the day of the Virgen, and Guadalupe was his name.

In reality it didn’t cause him any trouble in his daily life. There were hundreds of children born on days dedicated to female saints and they carried those names throughout their lives, proud of them and with the reassurance that their personal saint was protecting them from all kind of evils.

His name was Guadalupe, but they called him Lupe when he was young and Don Lupe as he grew older, so this was not something he was concerned with.

His father had also been a fisherman, and young Lupe had learned from him at an early age all there is to know about fishing. He’d learned to love the sea and had learned to respect it. His memory was full of wonderful moments, casting nets and fishing lines, hauling the harvest of the ocean, spending hours away from shore and feeling the waves rolling under their small boat.

He had met Rosario when he was in his early twenties. She was a beautiful dark-skinned girl with eyes like the black volcanic sand of her nearby village. They had fallen in love, and after the usual talks with their parents, they had decided to live together and to start a new family of their own. Rosario was the joy of his life, always happy, always singing some catchy tune, and every evening when he came back from the sea, she was there waiting for him at the beach.

Life was wonderful, but the years went by and Rosario didn’t give him what he wanted most: a son. He prayed and talked to the Virgen, asking for that small favor that would make his life complete. Day after day, always hoping for the miracle to happen, until one early morning when he was about to leave their hut, she gave him the news.

Listen carefully Lupe, from now on, you will have to work twice as hard. We will have another mouth to feed.

Guadalupe couldn’t contain his joy. This was the happiest day of his life.

A son, my own son.

The possibility that his wife could deliver a baby girl never entered his mind.

He kneeled on the sand and holding Rosario’s hand, he gave thanks to the Virgen for her blessings.

Antonio was born exactly seven and a half months later. A healthy strong boy, looking almost like a carbon copy of his beloved wife. The same color of her eyes and the same color of her skin.

But life can also be very cruel, and six days after Antonio’s birth, Rosario died when the illness she contracted couldn’t be controlled.

The Doctor at the local clinic told him that when babies were delivered at home, the chances of contracting an infection were very high. He even gave him the name of the disease, he called it puerperal fever. For Guadalupe all of this was meaningless. She was dead, the love of his life, his beloved Rosario lying in that horrible hospital bed, leaving him alone with a baby that by now, he began to think was the reason for her death.

Why did I ask her to have a baby? Why? We were so happy together, it’s all my fault, I killed her, now what am I going to do? Forgive me Rosario, forgive me my love, I am the one that should be dead.

He was at the bedside, at first sobbing but soon screaming at the top of his lungs. The doctors and nurses reluctant to give him the newborn baby in the condition he was in now, decided to keep the baby at the nursery and to wait for a better time or for a family member to show up.

Guadalupe’s world was shattered, all his dreams destroyed. He couldn’t understand why the same Virgen that gave him so much happiness was now taking it away from him. How was he supposed to live without his Rosario? How was he going to raise a child without his mother?

He became severely depressed and refused to leave his home for several weeks. He rejected food and visits from his own family and begged God to take him to Rosario.

He forgot his son, the one he had so much yearned for. And if not for his own mother who took the baby with her, Antonio would have died from neglect.

Fortunately, time is a balsam that can cure the worst of human sufferings. And Guadalupe was no exception. One day he woke up and realized that the greatest gift Rosario had left him was her beautiful baby with her smile, the color of her eyes and the color of her skin. With the help of Guadalupe’s mother, he devoted all of his efforts to make of Antonio a son that Rosario would have been proud of.

The memory of Rosario and the presence of Antonio were enough to fill his entire life with peace and joy. So strong was his love for her, that he never looked for female company again, and every time he looked at the baby, he saw Rosario, and his faith and all his dreams came back to show him that somehow the Virgen was always at his side.

Chapter 4

The morning after the storm, he was puzzled where his son had wandered to. He was not at the pier and he had to haul the boat by himself, and now he was out at sea and no sign of him. Concerned yes, but not so much worried because he knew that Antonio was capable of taking care of himself and, besides that, the rest of the fishermen were always on the lookout for him.

The fishing was good this day, and he returned early. He went to the local market and sold his catch at a fair price, but when he came back to his home that evening, what he saw left him stunned.

He lived with his son in a small hut close to the beach, and like most of the fishermen in the area, he had constructed this house for his family. Those were the days when his beloved Rosario was alive and his world had made sense. He built the roof out of palm tree leaves carefully intertwined so that their house was virtually waterproof. The walls were made out of wood and scraps he found at the sea shore. On the front porch there was a wood-burning stove made of mud, and next to it a small square table with three chairs. The floor was the same black sand that covers most of these beaches of the Pacific coast of Central America. The only, windowless room had a bed and a hammock. Antonio loved to sleep in the hammock, and he couldn’t even think how anybody could sleep flat on a surface. In the hammock he could swing back and forth until he fell asleep and the squeaking sound made by the ropes rubbing against the wood frame was as soothing as the sound of the ocean nearby.

A group of curious people were gathering in front of his house, mostly the local folks. He recognized them, but what were they doing just talking and pointing fingers in the direction of his house? What was going on? When they saw Don Lupe, they made room for him and started asking questions that for him made no sense at all.

He stepped into his hut and in front of him, lying on his own bed was a man he had never seen before, and Antonio was at his side washing the man’s face and caring for his sunburned skin. He was dressed in rags, emaciated, unconscious, and for a moment Guadalupe even wondered if he was alive, but there was something emanating from him, some form of peacefulness, serenity and helplessness that forced him to stand there for several minutes just contemplating this man that in some unknown way made him feel calm and without fear.

Antonio, who is this....

Papa, I’m sorry I found him at the beach under the pier this morning when I was on my way to get the boat ready. He was about to be sucked back into the ocean and I just couldn’t let that happen, I’m so sorry

Antonio, it’s fine, don’t....

Please don’t be mad at me, I didn’t know what else to do I even tried to get the Police, but couldn’t find anybody. Papa, he was going to drown and at the time I was the only one around him.

He was in tears, the last thing he wanted was to upset his father, so he stood there at the bedside, looking down and just waiting for him to react.

Guadalupe came to him and held the boy in his arms.

Antonio, you did the right thing, I am proud of you. In your situation, I would’ve done the same thing. Do you know who he is, or where he comes from?

He’s not one of the local men Papa, he doesn’t even look like somebody from around here. Maybe we should go back to the Police Station and report it to Sargento Lopez. I tried to do that early this morning but nobody was there.

Guadalupe began to search the stranger’s clothing looking for something that could identify him, but his tattered shirt and pants had no pockets or brand names, they were made of plain white cotton. He had nothing with him, not a shoulder bag, nor a necklace, a tattoo, or something that could give them a hint about his identity or his origin.

Guadalupe got close to him and scrutinized the man’s face. He looked so calm, so much in peace, a handsome face, but not from the area. No, he was definitely a stranger. The long hair and the beard made him appear older, but he must’ve been around thirty to thirty-five. He wasn’t in pain, he was just asleep. He thought of shaking him to see if he would wake up, but finally decided to let him rest. God knows how many days he’d been lost at sea.

Have you given him any water or food?

No Papa, he hasn’t ask for any and I was afraid he could choke on it. I was waiting for you.

The voice came from outside, and it had some authority in it.

Guadalupe Ramos, what is going on here? People tell me that you found a body by the pier. Why wasn’t I notified sooner?

Sargento Lopez moved through the growing crowd, entered the hut and stood there just watching the stranger in the bed, he wasn’t sure what to make out of all this incident. Obviously he was alive, so if he wasn’t dead, then no crime had been committed and he didn’t have to run an investigation nor file any reports, and that made him feel better.

He took a deep breath and filling himself with the authority of a Police Officer he turned around and paused at the door.

As soon as he is awake and well, send him to the Police Station so that I can interrogate him

He stepped outside and spoke to the crowd that was getting restless.

"Time to go home folks, it’s getting dark and all they have in there is a man who was apparently lost at sea. He is alive and all he needs