by James Hilton
“One pull on this trigger and it won’t be your problem to worry about.”
“You said you came here to take your family home. The men you just killed were like my family, but they were young and inexperienced. The men that are on their way here are full-blood enforcers.” Angel stared back at Clay, his face blood-streaked but unwavering. “Do you know what Los Espadas means?”
Danny answered. “It means ‘the sword’.”
“The swords, plural. There are many of us. We are guerreros del juramento de sangre: warriors of the blood oath. Each life we take strengthens the sword, strengthens the bond of the blood oath.”
“So how many men are on the way?” asked Clay. He tightened his finger on the trigger of the Remington.
“More than enough!”
“I think me and you are about done here,” said Clay.
Danny quickly raised the cell phone. “What’s the PIN for this phone?”
“Figure it out for yourself, tough guy.”
Clay jammed the shotgun deeper into Angel’s neck. “Tell him the number or I’ll leave you lyin’ here colder than a witch’s tit.”
Angel Velasquez opened his mouth as a shadow emerged from the trees behind Clay.
Whump!
Angel’s head snapped back, a dark hole appearing above his right eye. Clay pivoted in a crouch. “Damn it, Ghost! I almost shot you.”
“He had that coming. Him and those other assholes were all regulars at the compound. You’ve no idea what these animals are capable of.”
“Clay, we’d best get moving. We’ve no idea how close his men are, or their numbers or capability.” Danny moved closer to his brother. “We’re on the road to Crapsville here, Clay. We need to get back up the slope to their pickup and car. We can load any injured into your truck, the rest of them can trot along behind. It’s going to be slow going.”
“It’s the closest thing to a plan we’ve got, so let’s do it,” said Clay.
“You look after them.” Danny pointed at the freed captives. “I’ll go and see what I can lift from Los Muertos Espadas.”
61
Ezeret wrinkled his nose at the smell in the lobby. He had learned long ago that the dead and dying often emptied their bowels, but the knowledge did little to lessen the stench. It was a stench that had filled the chamber many times. The man that lay before him was spread out like a mutilated starfish. Ezeret recognized the denim-clad man as the light from his phone played over his corpse. He had been a loyal follower. Ezeret turned his head away. “This place is going to take a bit of cleaning up.”
“Master Ezeret?”
“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice?
“It’s me, Michelle. Michelle Getty.”
“Ah yes, Michelle. Are you alright? I heard what happened earlier with the Taser. Rest assured, Gunn will pay. Have you seen anyone else?”
“I heard voices coming from down there.”
Ezeret didn’t have to move his light to see where she was pointing. He too could hear sounds echoing up the stairwell. “There are flashlights in the kitchen, on the wall next to the big pantry. Go and get them.”
It took Michelle less than a minute to return with the lights. She held three under her arm, with one already illuminated in her right hand. “Big Peter is in the kitchen. His throat is cut.”
“Never mind Big Peter.” He took a flashlight from Michelle. “Follow me.”
He heard the gasp from Michelle as the light played over Dennis’s body. “Come on, we need to see who else is still alive.”
“Ugh, the smell.”
“That’s the smell of chaos made manifest,” said Ezeret. He returned her smile.
As Ezeret moved to the doorway, a new aroma greeted him: burned flesh and ammonia. He descended gingerly, moving the beam from the flashlight over the stone steps. Several bodies lay spread-eagled at the bottom. Two women, captives, stared back at him with dead eyes. The smallest of smiles crossed his face as he stepped over them. Weiss had probably dropped them when he was trying to prevent Gunn escaping the chamber. Another body lay to one side of the steps, a bloody ruin.
A figure lurched into view, eyes wide and angry, his white hair unmistakable.
“What happened to him?” asked Ezeret, pointing to the shredded corpse.
“He caught the worst of the blast from the grenade.”
“One of your grenades?”
Weiss grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes. That big American asshole kicked it back at me. I nearly broke my neck jumping down these steps to get away from it. Shoomey wasn’t so lucky. I think it went off between his feet.”
“Which one was Shoomey?” asked Ezeret.
“He was our mechanic, had all those freckles on his face.”
“Ah yeah, Shoomey.” Ezeret played the flashlight over Weiss. The right side of his face was swollen, his white hair matted with blood. His right arm was decorated with cuts. “You look like a lion used you for a scratching post.”
“I was out of it for a while. What’s the state of play now? Where are Gunn and the captives?”
“They got away.” Ezeret shrugged. “I sent Los Espadas after them. That should be the end of it.”
“If you had listened to me none of this would have happened. You could still have asked your questions and Gunn wouldn’t be running around like a damned chop-omatic leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him.”
“He wasn’t alone, though, was he? There was a big one with scars all over him, too, with a goddammed shotgun. I caught sight of him just before they all drove away in the vehicles they pilfered. I thought you said you’d killed the man he came with?”
Weiss ran a hand across his mouth. “I thought I had. I couldn’t see him after he went into the water in the sinkhole. I figured he sank like a stone.”
“Unless his name is Lazarus, he didn’t.”
“He won’t be alive much longer. The other men have taken the captives they managed to grab back to their rooms. There weren’t that many—only five, I think. The others followed Gunn out.”
Ezeret stepped close and rested his forehead against Weiss’s, with no aggression. “Doesn’t the danger make you feel alive?”
Weiss grunted something unintelligible, then said, “I’ll chase these hero wannabes down and fill them full of holes. I don’t need Los Espadas to do my work for me. I’ll take our men and finish them myself.”
Ezeret huffed. “Have at it, my warrior. Just don’t get in the way of the cartel. I still have to work with them after this is all done.”
Weiss stepped back from Ezeret and looked at Michelle. “You, give me one of those flashlights, then go and tell the men to meet me at the front doors in five minutes. Tell them to gather every weapon they can lay their hands on.”
“Ah, give me murder, give me rape,” said Ezeret, “give me anything but the mundane.”
62
Danny picked the manacle off his wrist as he spoke to Clay in a low voice. “Getting all these kids home is gonna be tough. Every time I look at them they seem to get younger and more terrified. One of them is gonna have to drive as well. We’ll need all three vehicles, especially with the ones already injured.”
“Celine stays with me,” said Clay. “We drive one each and Ghost can drive the third.”
“What I mean is, I don’t want their blood on my hands if they get caught in the crossfire.”
“I hear that, little brother, but right now we are the only chance they have of getting back to the world. It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
“Hey, I’m not having second thoughts. I just don’t want to see any of these kids breathe their last on our watch.”
“So, let’s keep moving and do our damnedest to stop that happening.”
“At least we’ve got a bit of kit now. Those cartel boys spent their money wisely. These pistols are top-notch kit. They’re all Coonan .357s. These have been customised by a craftsman, man-killers, no doubt. And they say crime doesn’t pay. I managed to rustle up som
e spare ammo from the dead desperados as well.” Danny handed one of the pistols to Clay. “They were wearing armoured vests; I’ve got those too.”
“Good. You put one on. Celine gets one too. Give the other two to whoever you think best.”
“You should try one. It’ll be a tight fit but better than nothing.”
Clay scowled. “They were made to fit guys your size, not mine.”
Ghost joined the hurried conversation. “I ended another of the team back up near the top of the hill. He had a pistol, but it’s somewhere in the undergrowth now.”
Danny looked at Ghost. “You okay?”
“I can’t tell where one hurt stops and the next one begins, but I’m still on my feet.”
“I hear that. I just got my arse thrown through the van window. Lucky for me, it was already smashed out. The landing nearly broke my back.” Danny twisted at the waist. “We need a third driver. You up for that?”
Ghost pressed her palm against her stomach. Her hand came away stained red. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“I didn’t find any car keys when I searched the men, so I’m hoping the keys are still in the ignition.”
Ghost bent at the waist.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Hurts like crazy, but I don’t think it’s too deep.”
“You want me to take a proper look?”
“I’m fine. As a wise man once said, ‘I ain’t got time to bleed.’”
“We need to get the worst injured into the pickup and on the move, pronto.” Danny pushed two of the Coonan pistols into his waistband. He passed the remaining pistol to Ghost. “Keep an eye out while I get them ready to move.”
He knelt down by the injured woman. “What’s your name?”
“Frances.”
“Frances, I’m going to have to move your leg, put it back into place. It’ll hurt like a son of a bitch, but I need to do it, understand?”
She gave something that loosely resembled a nod.
“Celine, try to hold her body straight. You too.” Danny pointed to the black woman at Celine’s side.
“Rebecca,” said Celine by way of introduction.
Danny gripped Frances’s ankle and pulled. The scream she emitted was enough to score glass. She struggled against him, her screams intensifying. A dull popping sensation reverberated through his hands as her hip clicked back into place. A quick inspection of her left arm told Danny that it was broken. “Celine, keep her arm cradled against her chest as best you can.”
Wide eyes stared back at him as he raised his voice. “Anybody that can walk on their own two feet, start walking back up the hill. The injured are going up in the truck. Move it!”
Several of the group climbed from the flatbed of the pickup, where they had been cowering. “Come on, we need to get moving. There are more gunmen on their way and I don’t know how long we’ve got before they get here.”
“Celine’s staying with me,” stated Clay.
“No problem. Get her in the pickup and you can drive it back to the road.” Danny cast another glance into the darkened treeline. The landscape was now an abstract picture marked with varying depths of black. Despite her vocal protestations, Frances was hoisted into the back of the pickup next to Marco.
Danny leaned in through the window, close to Frances and the young woman who had been shot in the shoulder. “Frances, I know you’re hurting really bad, but I need your help. You need to keep Marco here awake, you understand? If he goes under he may not wake up again. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I owe you one.” Danny turned his attention back to the rest of the group. Several sported cuts and scrapes but they were already starting to walk up the hill. “We need to keep the pickup as light as we can to get back up to the road,” he said as he caught up with them. “If it gets stuck we’ll need to push it. Once we get back up there we’ll take the other wheels and hightail it out of here as fast as possible.”
He looked back. Clay was starting the engine, Celine in the passenger seat. The bulletproof vest made her look like a kid playing dress-up.
Danny drew one of the Coonans, then gave Clay the thumbs-up. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”
63
Clay steered the pickup back up the path they had cut. The truck moved at a steady pace despite the incline and obstacles scattered in its way.
“I knew you’d get us out,” said Celine.
“We’re not home and free just yet, but at least we’re movin’.”
The truck bounced on its suspension as Clay manoeuvred around a rock. A loud moan from the back seat interrupted the conversation. Turning in his seat, Clay felt a lump in his throat. The back seat was awash with Marco’s blood. Both the shirt tied around his middle and his hands that clutched at it were stained dark. The dashboard display provided only meagre light, but still enough to see his failing condition.
“There’s so much blood.” Celine seemed to shrink a little in her seat.
“Wounds can often seem worse than they really are. When you wash them down they can look a lot different.”
“Is Marco going to die?”
“We need to get him to a hospital as soon as we can.”
“I’ve never seen anyone turn that colour before.” Celine dropped her voice to a whisper. “He looks like a wax dummy.”
Clay glanced again into the back seat. Marco lay barely conscious and blood-soaked. Frances was awake, her limbs swollen and dappled with livid bruises. The woman with the injured shoulder sat wedged against the door, her head lolling from side to side.
Clay leaned out of his window as Danny kept pace alongside. “I’m gonna have to take a good run at this last bit, build up enough speed to get over the crest.”
“Go for it,” answered Danny. “We’re right behind you.”
Clay spoke to the whole vehicle. “Hang on.”
The pickup lurched forward, creaking and shuddering. The engine bellowed as Clay forced it up the slope. There was a second of weightlessness as the vehicle ramped over the crest of the hill. Clay yanked hard to his right on the steering wheel, then they were back on the road. He slowed to a crawl. Ahead, the two vehicles that Los Espadas had used as a roadblock were still in place.
Clay slipped the pickup into park, its engine still idling. “Stay inside.”
“I will,” said Celine.
Cradling the shotgun, Clay moved warily back to the edge of the road. Within seconds Danny appeared. He began to usher the rest of the group onto the twin track road. One woman vomited into the undergrowth.
“Where’s Ghost?” asked Clay.
“She was here a second ago.” Danny looked around. “Ah, I see her.”
Clay followed Danny’s gaze. Ghost was already at the two vehicles. Her pistol swept left and right as she circled the pickup and the car.
“You mind the flock and I’ll get Ghost,” said Danny. Clay offered no argument. He didn’t intend letting Celine leave his sight, even for a moment.
“Listen up,” Clay said to the ragtag group, stark-faced and sweating. “Danny and Ghost are gonna get those two jalopies pointed in the right direction, then we’re puttin’ this place in the rear-view. With good luck an’ a tailwind we won’t stop ’til we see city lights. If we run into any more trouble, I need you all to keep your heads down and stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”
Three now familiar faces moved closer. Gillian, Laura and Rebecca—Celine’s friends.
“There’s space up front for one more in the pickup.”
The three exchanged a few words, then Gillian trotted to the front of the vehicle.
“The rest of you can split between the three. It’s gonna be another bumpy ride but it’s a lot better than walkin’.”
Two engines roared to life, one deeper than the other. Clay watched Danny reverse the second pickup, its tail end butting hard up against a tree, then turn it to face the direction they neede
d to go. Ghost performed a jerky four-point turn in the sedan. Danny held out his thumb in readiness.
“Time to get your butts in a seat. Don’t be too particular.” Clay made a shooing gesture with his arms. No one needed to be told twice. Laura and Rebecca joined Danny at the head of the line, the rest of the freed captives divided themselves up between the vehicles.
As soon as the vehicles were loaded, they moved off as a single unit, Danny’s pickup at the head of the short convoy, Ghost’s sedan in the middle. The road proved narrower than Clay remembered it as they picked their way back to the fork. The V-turn forced all three vehicles to slow to a crawl. For a dread-filled second, Clay was sure that Ghost’s sedan was going to become wedged between two trees, but with only the loss of a layer of paint she made the sharp turn.
“Look in the glovebox, see if there’s anything of worth in there.”
Celine did as he asked. “Nothing in here but a bunch of old papers. A packet of gum. Ah… and this.”
Clay glanced at the small package in Celine’s hand. The bright wrapping paper was decorated with cartoon characters.
“There’s a card taped to it,” said Celine. She moved the box closer to the dashboard lights. “It’s in Spanish. ‘To my darling baby girl Gloria, happy birthday. Love, Papa.’”
Celine placed the present back in the glovebox. “That belonged to one of those men. I don’t understand. How could men like that do such God-awful things but still buy a cute gift for their kid? How could they even visit a place like that camp when they have a family back home?”
Clay stared at Ghost’s tail lights as he answered. “What sickens me is that not only do they think they are not doing anything wrong, but they actually seek to justify it. One of the men in the house implied that this was an enlightened cure for boredom. Killin’ and torture and whatnot. Smiled as he said it.”
Celine moved a little closer to Clay. He could feel her unasked question hanging in the air. “We agreed to disagree,” said Clay.
“Good.”
64
The overhanging branches were now reduced to darkened tentacles, each seeking a hold on the small convoy. Danny glowered at the road ahead, each moment expecting the arrival of more cartel soldiers to be announced by a hail of bullets. There was nowhere to go, no avenue of escape if another squad of brutes did arrive, at least until they found a proper road. The single track they picked their way along wasn’t much wider than the vehicles, no room even to turn around if needed. Any threat would have to be faced head-on.
