Outside El Morro, the first thing they encountered was the ruin of the Santo Domingo Convent as they stepped out onto Cristo Street. Even in its dilapidated condition, Old San Juan was magnificent, rich in the coin of history. The night before, Jamaisvous had commented that this part of Puerto Rico was essentially his own private lair. The old part of the city had originally been separated from the mainland by three bridges, and in addition, the buildings of the inlet were walled off, surrounded by high imposing towers thanks to the old fort nearby known as Castillo de San Cristobal.
Before leaving El Morro, Dean had taken a printed leaflet from a wire rack in the foyer of the fortress, next to what was once a combination information desk and souvenir stand. The pamphlet had obvi- ously been designed for the edification of visitors, and the boy had delighted in reading from the tri-folded sheet of glossy paper as the three of them walked along the narrow sidewalk.
“See that chapel, Dad?” Dean asked, pointing to a little building at the end of Cristo Street.
Ryan took in the decrepit church, noting the cross jutting from the roof was the only part of the construct still completely intact. “Sure,” he replied.
“They built it because a slowie retard was racing his horse and couldn’t stop before hitting the wall,” Dean said confidently. “The retard’s mom and dad wanted to help prevent more racing accidents from happening to other stupes.”
“Keep it up, son, and you’ll be giving Doc a run for his windpipe,” Ryan replied. “You’re telling me a lot more than I want or need to know.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” Krysty said, giving Dean a quick hug as they walked. “Somebody has to play tour guide.”
“Place feels like the walls are closing in. Lots of places for an ambush,” Ryan noted.
“Says here the streets and sidewalks are so narrow that ped…pedestrians must often walk single file,” Dean read, his voice stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “What’s a pedestrian, Dad?”
“Beats me,” the tall man replied. “Means ‘people,’ I guess. You’ll have to ask Doc when we get back.”
Krysty’s attention was on the street beneath their feet. The roadway was made up of a series of rectangular bricks of a dark blue substance. “Feels kind of strange here, walking down paths thousands of years old,” the redhead said. “Not a bad feeling, just… strange.”
“Old ghosts?” Ryan asked.
Krysty nodded and gave him a dazzling smile. “Mebbe so, lover.”
“‘Some of the streets in Old San Juan are still paved with the original blue-glazed blocks brought over on old Spanish sailing ships,'” Dean read aloud.
“Need to get your nose out of that pamphlet and look at what’s around you, Dean,” Ryan suggested, plucking the booklet from the boy’s hands and shoving it into the back pocket of his trousers. “You’re missing half the sights by reading about them.”
The morning air wafting through the streets of Old San Juan was pleasant, and Krysty was glad for the opportunity to lose the extra layers of clothing she and everyone else had grown accustomed to wearing at all times. It was much easier to wear a jacket than to tote it. Not having it on your person could also mean forgetting the item of clothing and leaving it behind if trouble started.
However, here in Old San Juan, things appeared to be much more relaxed.
A few of the locals gazed at the three, but didn’t approach or speak. One man nodded in passing but kept his eyes lowered. Once, on Luna Street-identified as such by a rusted old street sign-Dean spotted a deeply tanned boy who looked to be his own age and he walked over to speak. However, the child responded to his greetings in Spanish, and Dean returned to Ryan and Krysty wearing a frown of disappointment.
The houses along the streets were a crowded sprawl of color and design. Some were in good repair, others obviously abandoned. The narrow streets were the dividers between multiple grilled balconies, brass-studded doors housed in ornate doorways and an explosion of colorful flora. His own curiosity working against him, Ryan returned the tour book to Dean and asked the boy to go ahead and tell them what they were looking at. Meanwhile, he scanned doorways and walk-through buildings fronting on two streets and noted dead-ends.