by West, J. D.
“What hell happened out there bro?” he asked. “What the fuck did you see? Who did this?” He was trying to help his amigo and never saw the two figures come out of darkness. They had been concealed by the thick vegetation and cactus.
“GROOOWWWL!”
Even in almost total darkness and rocky ground the figures had tracked the injured man down. They lunged forward and knocked the drivers’ friend down. Then they started to bite and tear at his flesh but the attack was unseen by most of the others.
“CHOMP!”
The van driver tried to help him up but it was too late.
“Get the hell off him!”
“Ricardo! Leave him!” cried out another voice. “He's gone mi amigo!”
“No!” said Ricado the driver. “He might still be alive!”
In one violent motion Ricardo got his arm dislodged leaving it bloody with part of the bone sticking out. His breathing became heavy and erratic. He slowly bled to death on a patch of jagged rocks and ruff stones. More of those things came out of the desert. They closed in getting closer and closer with every awkward step. Droves and droves of killers started attacking us.
“GROOOWWWL!”
Just like animals some of the figures were solitary hunters while others were in packs. They converged on us and went on a killing frenzy. Everyone in their path was slaughtered because there were too many to avoid. No matter what direction our people chose they ran into a net of hands that randomly grasped for them. Some of the attacks were prolonged while others were over quick. Most people died from bites to their neck and throats severing nerves, vocal cords and carotid arteries. Others were shot by friendly fire. The beastly figures dragged some of the immigrants off into the darkness. The coyote leader pulled his gun and ordered his men too shoot them.
“POP! POP! POP!”
They must have had bulletproof vests on because they did not die or go down. I saw them being shot several times from only a few feet away and the bullets had no effect on them.
“BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!”
The bullets ripped gaping holes through their bodies.
“Who are these sadistic mother fuckers?” asked one of the gang members. “Is it another group of banditos?”
The situation had understandably worsened.
“I don't know but we are in serious danger!” answered the leader. “Pick up the drugs and get to the vehicles!”
The attackers followed the gang’s leader and his men. One of them got the jump on the leader, but he was able to get off a shot.
“Don’t push me man!” he yelled. “Back the fuck off!”
A single projectile discharged from the barrel sending its brass casing into the air. The bullet entered its chin. Traveled past the lower jaw and exited out the top of its head.
“That's right pendejo!” he boasted. “You don't know who you fucking with! What do you think you’re doing you sope de caca? If you think a couple of maricone gringo's can kill me your wrong!”
“GROWWWLLL!”
He beat on his chest and waved the gun around while his men pulled him away.
“Please boss we got to go now!” begged an older man.
They all tried to get away in the leaders jeep but the killers forcibly pulled him through the window before his driver could pull off.
The rest of his men heard him shouting and tried to help him.
“Get them off me!” he ordered. “Don’t let go! Don’t let go!” His lower torso was still in the truck and the rest was pulled outside the window. The men inside the jeep tried to hold onto him but the beasts overwhelmed them and wrestled his overweight body down to the ground.
“What are you doing?” he pleaded. “You’re supposed to be helping me! Aaaaaaahhhh!” He shrieked in pain as they bit into his soft flesh with unusually strong jaw strength taking chunks of muscle and bone.
“CHOMP!”
His men watched the life drain from his body. His brutal death was punishment for how he lived his life. One of the younger coyotes was scared and ran away. He was no longer confident that they could survive.
“Fuck the money! This shit is not worth it!” he said throwing his empty gun.
The other mysterious figures circled around the twitching leader. They hovered over him like vultures then savagely ripped his stomach open.
“GNAAAW!”
Blood spurted from his abdomen. Drops of it splattered on the dry grass and sparkled like dew drops in the moonlight. He howled in pain and begged to put death but none of his men could end his misery. His head got severed from his body and they began to pick his bones clean. The man who was sitting next to him in the driver’s seat sat motionless in the truck. He was devastated and in shock. The pistol in his hand vibrated as his body trembled. Earlier he had been so tough when he was rapping all the young girls and threatening the men.
“Shoot asshole! Just don’t sit there!” one of the other men yelled. “There are more of them!”
He just quivered in fear and starred off into the night. Most men think that when something happens that they will be able to stand up to the challenge. The reality is that when the shit hits the fan most guys act like cowards and try to save their own necks. The two other coyotes got out the jeep and emptied their guns into the leader’s attackers.
“POP! POP! POP!”
They did not notice the three monsters emerging from the darkness behind them. They took advantage of the low visibility. The gun shots had revealed their position. A large group of deformed figures moved toward them. The group slowly stumbled forward.
“GROOOWWWL!
Boney hands clutched handfuls of their hair and tugged on their clothes. The coyotes were armed but they could not stop them. Their rifles and machine guns inflicted heavy damage to the invaders. The problem was that every time they took up a defensive position they were forced to retreat because of their attacker’s animal like cravings for blood and guts.
The coyotes screamed for help but most of us took off running. We had no weapons but that was not why we didn't help. These were bad men who preyed on the desperate and weak. Now something else had them pissing in their pants. Our only chance make it out the desert alive was on our own. We had to get to the coyotes van since we couldn’t have made it out of there on foot. The keys were in the ignition and it was still running. “We have to get to the van,
“I yelled out, “Stay together!” “Go on. I'm right behind you,” my brother responded. My brother Anthony and I pushed and shoved our way through the crowd of killers. The throng of attackers was slow moving but deadly. One of those things grabbed my brother and bit a chunk out of his hand.
“CRUNCH!” Its rotted teeth sliced through his flesh making him scream out at the top of his lungs.
“Help me Juan!” he begged. “Get this guy off me.” I knocked it off him and we ran to the van.
“We have to get out of here Juan!” he shouted. “Let’s go!” A couple of people saw us get into the van and jumped in the back. Most of them were just as confused as we were.
“Move over!” they shouted. “Let us in!”
They had tears streaming down their faces and bloody clothes.
“What's going on man?” someone yelled out. “Get out of here quick!”
“Shut the fuck up motherfucker!” yelled Juan. “Be quiet and hold onto something!”
We didn’t have time to wait for anyone else. I hit the gas yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and drove it into the hoard of killers. They didn't even try to move or leap out of the way. Their bodies bounced off the vans grill and fell under the tires. Pieces of purple, pink and burgundy tissue splashed against the vans windshield. Everyone was very afraid as we set out. I had hoped we would be able to find a road or highway.
I drove through the rocky desert terrain until we ran out of gas. Three of the other survivors were hurt really badly. They were lethargic and unresponsive because of the injuries that had been inflicted on them. We did our best and tried to help them but we failed. They died from their injuries. They went into shock and bled to death in the back of that dirty van. Without a doctor there was no way they could survive after losing that much blood. Anthony and me left their bodies there and started walking. The terrain was rugged and unforgiving.
We wandered the empty desert landscape looking for help and hoping we didn’t encounter anything. Those killers could still be following us. We both were hurt and had no water so we didn't get that far. It is impossible to say how long we were out there. I tried to find a path but got us even more lost. My brother wasn’t looking that good. The deep gash in his hand stung and continued to bleed. Together we had begun our journey to a new life but now it was all about to end. At that point he was so weak he could barely stand. We were spotted by a couple of spooked ranch hands riding horses. They called the county sheriff and border patrol was notified. Within minutes a black hawk helicopter was en route to our last known location. We had just about given up hope when we heard the helicopter approaching. As it got closer to the sandy desert ground a small brown tornado of dust swirled around us. My brother had started hallucinating so I sat him down in the shade from a small mesquite bush. He was curled up on his side shivering. Even though he said he was cold when I felt his skin it was boiling hot. It hadn't even touched down when several armed men jumped out and told us not to move. That was easy since we didn’t have the strength to take another step. When they took us into custody my brother was going in and out of consciousness. I didn’t know what was going to happen next but I was happy my brother would be okay!”
******
“Don’t worry sir.” responded the agent. “We are going to get you both some help but that story seems a little farfetched!”
The agent could see needle track marks on both of Juan’s arms so he knew he was a drug user.
“Are you sure this wasn't just a bad drug induced fantasy?” asked the agent.
“You have to listen to me! I don't do that anymore! I'm clean!” said Juan. “I'm telling the truth!”
The Tucson sector chief thought the whole thing was nonsense but he called Homeland Security and told them the whole story anyway. They were more concerned about the drug dealing coyotes than the killers that came out the desert. Homeland Security told him to transport Juan and Anthony to Phoenix. The detainees flew on a UH-60 Black hawk medical evacuation helicopter to the Maricopa Hospital. The detainees would have to have a medical exam before they were moved to a holding center. Homeland Security had questions about the coyote camp massacre because it was similar to other attacks at the border and in the valley. Half the country of Mexico was under Martial law due to civil unrest. Back at the hospital Hernandez came over the radio and said we had an inbound helicopter. It would be here in forty minutes. I immediately went to the security desk and turned on the helicopter pad lights. It would take a minute for the HELO to show up so I went to check on the psych patient in holding.
CHAPTER 4:
The Spreading Sickness
I had just passed the nurses’ station when I saw the smiling face of Dr. Sanchez. She had the rare combination of beauty and brains. Around the hospital I had seen firsthand as she showed her compassion and ability to put other people first. With the body of an R&B diva and the mind of a rogue scholar she stood out in a crowd. One of the guys told me she grew up in California and was an only child. Her parents emigrated to the U.S. thirty years ago from Mexico. They worked hard and became U.S. citizens. Dr. Sanchez was born a few years later in Modesto. She graduated from Fresno State University. After that she attended medical school at the University of Arizona in Tucson. The demands of the hospital required staff to work long hours. Most of the women did not keep up with their appearance but Dr. Sanchez always looked good. She walked around the hospital full of confidence and sex appeal. It did not matter if her hair was in a ponytail or down on her shoulders. Her look always turned me on. I started to ask her out a couple of times but lost my nerve. I could take on a group of insurgents but fell apart when it was time to talk to a pretty girl. She was talking to a couple of her nurse friends.
Nurses are the backbone of the hospital and dished out quality care with a smile. From check in to discharge they were involved in almost every phase of the healthcare process. Most of them knew more about the patients than the doctors. They monitor machines, dispense medications and start IV's. At that moment they were helping Maria check on a patient who was admitted earlier. The patient was sent upstairs to the ICU after falling into a coma. Her friend admired her devotion to her work and let her know when they found out that the patient had died. That was strange because other than a few bite marks on his arm the patient only had a Fever.
Dr. Sanchez was confused but figured that the patient had other medical problems. She picked the phone up and was about to page the ICU physician that took care of him.
“Girl, look who is coming!” one of the nurses said to her.
“That is one fine piece of brown sugar!” said her friend.
“Yeah I see him.” She shot back with a smile on her face. Then she walked straight up to me and stuck out her hand.
“We weren’t properly introduced. My name is Dr. Sanchez but you can call me Maria.” I smiled back and shook her hand.
“How are doing, Maria? I’m Officer Robinson but you can call me Kevin.” I was about to ask her out when another voice chimed in from behind me.
“Dr. Sanchez I need you to come with me. We have a patient.” Dr. Black told her.
“Yes sir!” She told him. “Just gives me a second.”
“As for you Kevin I guess I’ll see you later!”
I smiled as she walked away. Dr. Black told her to examine the patient in room #6. He was the overnight attending physician in the ER and supervised the residents that were on duty tonight. Dr. Black was in his late fifties but looked a lot younger. He was a man that had swagger and arrogance. He trained all the residents and knew they could handle the pressure of the job. He was a born teacher and demanded the best from his students. The male patient in room # 6 was sweating and had a fever. His fiancée said he was fine two hours ago. The nurse thought it might be a heart attack so Dr. Sanchez went straight in.
“I’m Dr. Sanchez.” she said. “How are you doing sir?”
“I don’t feel that good doc.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“I keep throwing up and I feel dizzy.”
“Don’t worry sir just let me check you out.” His temperature rose from 98.6 degrees to 102.7 degrees in an hour.
“Sir you’re burning up. I’m going to give you some fluids and medication.”
“Thank you!” he added.
“I’m also going to give you an EKG test to make sure your hearts OK.” Dr. Sanchez was concerned about the man’s rapid temperature gain, and the nausea. His girlfriend was scared that he would not get better.
“Is he going to be okay?” the fiancée asked the nurse.
“Don’t worry. The doctor will take care of him.”
“I don’t know what I would do without him.” The patients nurse and a tech helped put a gown on him after he was undressed. That’s when they noticed he had a bite mark on his shoulder. The bite wound was nasty looking. It was also severely infected. They had seen a couple of bites like his already tonight.
“Where did he get this at?” asked the tech.
“Some dumb ass bit me!” He answered.
“Why does it look bad?” his girlfriend questioned.
“It actually looks infecte
d.” the nurse responded.
The patient was bitten at 6:00 pm. A homeless man attacked him. He was at a gas station in South Phoenix getting gas when a man wearing a tattered suit jacket came out from behind a dumpster. His hair greasy and he smelled. It was hard to tell if he slept in sewage or just hadn't bathed in weeks. The patient was pumping gas while his fiancée was putting on her makeup. She saw the homeless man stumble up and bite him. The patient knocked the homeless man into the gas pump and kicked him when he fell on the ground. His future wife opened the car door for him and he jumped in. As they drove away she saw the man get up and walk toward another car. An hour later they were at the diner where he started to feel sick. When Dr. Sanchez looked at the bite wound the area around it was red and swollen. She also noticed milky white pus leaking out the wound. This was a symptom found in the infected bites of rabies victims. She told the nurse to clean out the wound and then left to find Dr. Black. Dr. Sanchez found him in one of the triage rooms with Dr. Okonkwo another intern. I was at the ER registration window when Hernandez called out over the radio.
“Security needed in triage Robinson.”
“10-4.” I answered. “I’m in route.”
“The triage nurse said we have a disorderly patient.” I ran toward the commotion and got there pretty fast.
“Robinson to communications I’m on the scene.” All I heard was a lot of cursing. Dr. Black and Dr. Okonkwo were talking to a big man who looked upset. He was Native American and built like a tree trunk. The man was six foot six and weighed over four hundred pounds. He was physically imposing and loomed head and shoulders over all of us. His long hair was in a ponytail and he waved his fist in the air. The man was mad about having to wait so long to be seen by a doctor.
“This is bullshit! I’ve been here for over three hours!” the man barked. Dr. Sanchez and the nurse were standing off to the side and I just stood back and waited to see if they needed my help. It started to look bad so I stepped in between him and the staff. When I entered the room he balled up his fist and turned toward me.
