I had just moved to San Antonio, Texas, and started working as a tour bus driver. My route covered the city's historic sites, ending at the Alamo.
One cool February evening, near closing time, I was driving back from the San Fernando Catholic Church. My bus was empty. I spotted a young man in an old buckskin jacket and a worn-out hat. Thinking he might be a historical re-enactor, I stopped and offered him a ride. He silently boarded and sat behind me.
"Where are you heading?" I asked.
He looked up through the rearview mirror and replied, "I must get to the fort and report to Colonel Travis that the Mexicans are here!"
Amused, I said, "I'm guessing you mean the Alamo?" He wasn't smiling. I drove on.
Throughout the ride, I watched him in the mirror. He stared in amazement at the towering skyscrapers and modern buildings.
"I remember when this town was nothing more than a little trading village," he finally said.
"Yeah, I've heard it used to be a small pueblo," I replied.
"It was," he nodded.
"So, what's your name?" I asked.
"Daniel Cloud. Yours?"
"David Zime," I answered as we turned the corner and the Alamo came into view.
I pulled over and opened the door. Cloud approached me.
"Thanks for the ride," he said, extending his hand. His palm was freezing cold, as if he'd just stepped out of a freezer.
"Not a problem, Mr. Cloud. Don't worry about the fee; it's on the house." He nodded in gratitude and stepped out.
Only then did I notice he was soaked to the bone, though it hadn't rained in over a month. Puzzled, I closed the door. I glanced ahead for other passengers, then looked back—Cloud was gone! He had vanished instantly. I shrugged and drove off for the day.
A few days later, while reading a book about the Battle of the Alamo, I made a shocking discovery. Listed among the 183 defenders was the name Daniel Cloud. He was only 19 when he was killed. The book noted he was the one who first spotted the Mexican army in February 1836, from his post atop the San Fernando Church—exactly where I had picked him up.
Since then, whenever I pass the San Fernando Church on my way to the Alamo, I look for Cloud, hoping someday to give him that ride again.