by Riley Moreno
“No. He is though. I didn’t aim to kill.”
“Good. I don’t know how we’ll get him back down alive, but it will be good to interrogate him.”
“Sure. And what of Madelene? And there’s still one of these men inside.”
“I know. I think I’ll scope this out alone.”
“No.” Lee shakes her head in disagreement. “Let me go in there. I think this involves me, more than you.” She comes closer to whisper to Hona, “They’re meant to kill me. He said so.”
Hona looks down on him, “he looks like no rebel.”
“Because he isn’t. I say if you’re willing to help me out? Take him down. Find Darren, please will you? And then get him to Shandi town where I’ll come and find him. Let me give you my number.” Hona gives Lee his phone: she tabs it in and then gives it back. “Text me what you need to. But please find Darren.”
“Will you help me find Camila?”
“Yes. I think it’s become a priority that I do.” Lee says, sorry Henny, in the back of her mind.
Chapter 9
Darren can’t remember how he ended up in a wheelbarrow, but it’s where he is now. Well, with the blindfold and the squeaking wheels that are heaved up and down every few seconds, it’s defiantly a wheelie-of-a-time as he feels like lumpy coal that’s about to be dispersed into a burning hot furnace.
He feels a body on top of him. He pats it, strokes, and then holds his breath when he traces his fingers all the way to the decapitation that was performed on this poor sod. And he’s correct in thinking that there is no head on this body. Darren’s hands shudder when he feels all those vessels, nerves, bones, tissues and the missing atlas that conjoins the skull to the neck. God knows what complications this body is going through.
Darren doesn’t want to think about where the man’s head is kept, so he stays perfectly still and keeps himself humbled enough to not alert them of his awakened state. It smells of burnt hay and mowed grass from a lawnmower, toppled with a dead body with an unholy-than-holy scent of dried blood like the process of coagulation that will never heal.
After a few more bumpie-bump-bumps and no rest, Darren finds that he needs to urinate quite badly with the route they’re taking because it must be a whole load of rocks and ditches that these wheels are having to tread over.
There comes a point where there’s a full detener, Spanish word for halt, that involves a full turn and then Darren having to fill up the gaps in the wheelbarrow when the ascension nearly has him rolling straight out. He does the body a favour and holds it in-between his thighs. Not pleasant, but it beats them checking their progress as they travel up this hill.
At the top, the wheelbarrow is settled down, and Darren plays the dead fish role again. And this time he feels a machete poking into his chest. Luckily his contusions, if he has any, aren’t giving him that much trouble. “Out cold. We did a good number on him.”
“Anything broken?”
Darren can feel a hand checking both his legs for a concealed weapon, more than an actual injury. Then his stomach, waist, and hips get a thorough pattering. And when it comes to his chest and ribs cage, the man really lets him have it. “No. Nothing broken. Or we would hear noise out of him.
“Yes. We should bury this body here.”
Darren wishes that he could see. If they walk off a little, he’d be able to raise the blindfold up and take a peak. “We bring him back to Peacock. Both of them.”
“We’re going to be passing the outskirts of Shandi town. Remember that Peacock said to notify those blasted soldiers of our headway.”
“They’ll still be cleaning up the mess made.”
Darren finds they all have similar accents. To tell them apart, he listens to differences in how the present a full sentence, their finishing tone and how heavy or gruff it comes across. The guy who speaks next delivers everything so lowly with a tedious undertone. “I agree with Ion, let’s bury the body.”
“You see, Phillipe agrees with me.” Ion speaks as if each line is well thought out before releasing it.
Darren takes notes of names and then lifts his blindfold from his eyes when their speech starts to move further apart from him. “If we bury Peter right here, we’ll remember since it’s close to the hill for when Peacock wants us to fetch it out.”
“Good idea.”
“We have no shovels.” Darren gambles lifting it a little more but it pulls it straight back down when they all come back. “I’m not using my hands to dig a ditch for this body, Phillipe. We go on and risk those soldiers.” The shortest and most argumentative takes the hand grip and gets those tires rolling. Darren feels his legs bash against another set.
“After Peacock, I’m the next to give orders. Or have you forgotten that?” Darren hopes he’s avoiding Phillipe’s crotch as a repetitive bash happens that results with an annoyed Phillipe trying to topple the whole wheelbarrow over when he gets hold of the side and rocks the tray where Darren lays unsteadily.
“There are no ranks.” He aggressively let’s go of the elevated grip and Darren feels his body thump-them-bounce-up from the drop. “It’s what keeps us all equal. No one is better or higher than the other. I think my opinion, like yours, should be heard?”
Their pronunciation has improved since Darren last heard them converse. “We heard. And you’re outvoted.”
“But we have nothing to dig with. And we have no time to waste on a burial for him.”
“Then we leave his body against a tree and come back.”
Darren is elevated once more, “this makes sense to me.”
“I’m glad we can all come together on this one. You two, take him out and place him by that old oak.” And just like that, the literal dead weight is hauled off of Darren and he can freely inhale and exhale with no fear of catching the deceased letting off some stinky gas. His chest is the most relieved.
“We need to go. Peacock will be waiting.”
...
Darren’s close to pissing himself, but he holds it in with his imagination turning to a time when he had almost come close to declaring his true feelings for Lee. The rebels stop and eat what smells like a soft garnish of garlic cloves and lukewarm baked bread dipped in a chorizo sauce. It leaves his mouth with a grand opening for a taster; garlic and bread have never smelt so good.
He’d even sell his soul to have a bite of anything! Anything at all, that’s how hungry Darren is when he contemplates his desperation and concern all at the same time. He forgets his hunger and goes back to the time when he and Lee were walking back to his place after a work party that had gone sour due to the reason that led to Darren being fired the next day when he went to speak with Henny and that ass-wipe Lotan.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut and let me handle it, Darren.”
“I’m not going to let Lotan think he has my upper lip clipped onto the apex of my nose. I stand by what I said, he’s a crooked cop and was primarily involved with us both failing that bust-up after we barged on in and caught what looked like the swapping of draughts and a game of checkers. We aren’t the drug unit. Our task wasn’t to find a whole heap of narcotics, Lee. But we stumble upon it when who we needed to arrest was in the backroom getting a blowjob and being nicked for printing illegal foreign documents for his family who wanted to come over illegally.”
“It happens, you know.” Lee found it hard to not agree with Lotan’s insistence on solving everything and then shoving it under his unshaven armpits. Her shrug is a long and windless effort for a man she can’t linger around too long - before wanting to reach for an air freshener and clearing her airways. “Lotan, I agree, is a plant that you place on your window and let it dry. But you might accidentally water it sometimes out of having no choice. That’s how I treat his attitude. It will come to an end. You just have to ignore him and get on with your work.”
“You’re better than Lotan. Even though they all hide behind their fear of being beaten by a girl. Sorry, they really do talk this childish, they can’t help but see
you as one of the best heartbeats living to your own drumbeat.”
“Yeah. Well, in a few months I’m going to show them all what Lee Coil can do.”
Darren smiled broadly. “I hope I’m there to see that happen?”
Lee tried to slow down her pace, she didn’t want their conversation to end just yet. “I’ll do all I can to make sure you don’t get fired. But you disappointed me this evening, letting them get to you only plays to their egos.”
“I’m convinced that Lotan and Henny work with the idea that they’ll receive all the gold and silver stars.”
“You dared to ask the question that nobody ever asks... did you set me up?”
“He did. Those checkers where large ecstasy tablets. How was I supposed to know that it was a setup to pin down Zachary and it was assigned to Lotan to be the one who reigns victorious? Shouldn’t it be the case that from me making a smart and very obvious guess ... that I should be awarded instead of punished for them trying to pin a conviction on the guy to round it all off and send him inside?”
“Yeah bu–”
“Don’t side with Henny.”
“You’re getting worked u-”
“Because you always chose him over me!”
Lee couldn’t sense if Darren is jealous, or just passionate about their friendship not being more important than Henny’s and hers? “No other guy...in that unit...can ever say that Henny hasn’t been good to me. I wouldn’t have advanced like I did if it wasn’t for him believing and giving me a chance. So never ask me to pick a side when it comes to him.”
“The end result lies with Henny when it comes to the printed paper. He favors Lotan more than me.”
“And so, what? He thinks you’re a good cop. Me and Saul are on your side to back you. And when it falls to what I personally think about you ...” They reached the gates of Darren’s front yard where they both fell silent. It’s the 2nd time they’ve been in this situation with the awkwardness being chucked for the other to dodge for the safety of the clock striking 12 a.m., and leaving little option for the Lee, the female, to not walk home alone.
The gallant thing to do would be to invite the young lady in. Darren knows Lee could nail herself to the cross instead of her perpetrators doing it, but he wishes more opportunities to get her inside would come.
“Come in ... let’s not make this a 2nd charm where the awkwardness leaves us standing outside just because we want to avoid ...” Darren was going to say sex. But with no idea what Lee felt for him, the true embarrassment would be in confessing his attraction ran up her skirt and down her top. It was hormonal at best, but the sexual pulse couldn’t match his need to just want to give her a hug and kiss at the end of a tiring day when she had to put up with everybody’s shit.
A whole year of it had propelled when she started to climb the ladder by sheer hard work and nothing more. Her competition came from all sides of the compass; she was the star factor that they wanted to eliminate from twinkle-twinkle beating our asses. And ahead of that was Lotan who never made it easy when they worked on a job together. But still, Lee went in, faced the verbal abuse that was subtle but dangerously behind her back, and came out on top with her dreads whipping their faces and leaving scars.
Lee went home alone. Avoided any personal time with any male or female. And never spoke about anything besides work. Darren got to see more of who she was as time went by. And had found her alluring from the very beginning when she walked in, took off her black leather jacket with the initials LC on the back, and introduced that name that could sell magazine headlines; hi, I’m Lee Coil. And gave no smile because the room blatantly didn’t know what to make of her, and she didn’t give two mugs of coffee and a packet of salt and vinegar.
“Darren, are you suggesting that I have sexual feelings for you?”
He’s glad Lee has made the situation more flexible to handle, even if it’s a little plain with no titillation. “A little crazy of me, huh? But ... I’d just prefer for you to come on in and stay the night. Sleep on my sofa? Your choice.”
“I can walk home on my own. You’re no better than the guys at work if you think I can’t handle myself during unsociable hours of the night.”
“I’d have a clearer conscience if you do me a favor and stay.”
“I refuse to go into your home.”
There was nothing unappetizing about it; a one bedroom flat on the 2nd floor with the yard shared by another resident who lived on the bottom with a friend. The pathway was 50 yards if a person entered through the gate that was missing a screw to hold it upright, and Darren’s window was not double glazing, and on the inside there were a few technical issues in his bedroom; electricity sometimes giving him black-outs, gas not working, boiler needing replacing, shower with a temperature of its own, but apart from that, he didn’t understand her snub when she hadn’t seen it.
“I’m not a predator.”
“You’re still a man who has that funny look in your eyes.” Lee stares into them and teasingly tip-toes to reach his height when she does. “My mother, for all her failure, told me to watch out for the hunger that devours women before they even get into their beds.” She lowers herself back down. “Get rid of that hunger, and I’ll come inside and lay my head on that couch.”
“How would I do that?” Darren was tired. And more-so, dying to confess that ‘I care so much for you, Lee. No woman has had me wrecking my brains day in and day out’ for them with a fear that rejection would be the outcome. But he doesn’t. “I think you see a fire that’s always burning.”
“I do. And if you keep it up. Our friendship won’t last.”
It hurt at the time. And Lee’s lack of manners meant that she left Darren standing there until she was turning that corner and he was texting her to let him know when she reaches back safely. She never did. But he saw her the next day, acting more strong, distant and well apt to take on Lotan and his bullshit. But she wasn’t forthcoming in helping him keep his job.
Lee followed him to the entrance of the station’s building, “I did my best to win Henny over. Lotan got to him good.”
“It’s their man-code that I ruined.” Darren’s in a barrel of pissed-off and he wants to stay in that mood and space to make himself feel better. “I need a break from them. I welcome the break.”
“Keep in touch.”
“Not with your love for Henny.”
Here he goes with the jealousy again. Lee holds back the urge to slap the back of his head to knock some sense his way. “Put away the childishness.”
“Na. You said it best ... and I won’t ask you to pick between me and Henny because you made your choice already.”
...
It felt good back then, to let Lee know how wrong she was for placing him as an overdue problem. Darren wouldn’t call it jealousy as he let his arms limply hang from inside the tray of the wheelbarrow, his legs flopped at the front wide, and the lifting of his blindfold would come off every 50-to-60 yards when he could push Lee aside to keep an account of the route these rebels were taking.
So yeah, his resentment for Henny...Darren paused, it wasn’t distrust for the guy ... perhaps it was deep down? Or the way that his favoritism for Lee and Lotan came from that an age-old word called siding with the Hennessey potency of the devil. Lee was her own demon, and Lotan was his own saviour. The pair of them by his side would propel his unit to the northern star and light up a universe.
Darren felt Henny used them both for his own gain and importance. Why else would that old fart be so eager to see Lee rise? He knew she was bad-to-the-ribs. And out here to catch Shaka, who could go by any other name, would really give him that recognition to rise even higher in the ranks. Henny was ambitious, but he’d be fooled to think that somebody like Lee could be disciplined.
And that’s what makes Darren smile when he places that blindfold back down, just in time to avoid a barrel of punches that catch him off guard and swipe it right away.
“You’re awake! You’re awake!”
Phillipe is brandishing out a whip-ass of pham-pham-pham-pham-pham-pham-pham! whilst Darren is blocking each hit with his forearms as a defence manoeuvre to deflect the impact that he’s trying to deliver to his face, chest, and stomach.
Darren keeps lifting his upper back and using his biceps to repel Phillipe’s hits with counter-attack punches and elbow jabs that actually connect a few time with Phillipe’s cheeks; a left-hook-right-hook, and then a stub in the nose and a fist to his eye that Phillipe blokes. Darren goes for the lips that are now visible underneath the bandana and thrusts forward at Phillipe with both his hands gripping the back of his t-shirt, then fumbles to his neck where he hurls Phillipe to the other side of the wheelbarrow and watches him roll onto the other side scrappily.
They’d been observers, but now the other three come charging for Darren, who’s used much of his strength but finds the will to keep on striding when he leaps out of the wheelbarrow and dashes before a machete blade clangs the metal of the tray where Darren has just jumped out from, it would’ve connected with his neck!
He keeps them guessing by changing direction to the left, so it lands at a point where he would’ve reached if he had kept it that way when a machete is thrown like an arrow. Darren has to zig-zag again when another machete almost grazes his back with a sharp cut when he checks back to see. He alarmingly does a forward roll and then quickly flips around with his legs pressed together to kick that rebel overhead with his heels and watch as the machete falls out of his hand when he lands with a thump on the ground.
It’s his chance to get a machete before the other two catch Ion’s progress. Darren notices his way forward is just plains and flat land with a few trees and squared shrubs fencing off properties belonging to sheep and cow farmers, there’s even a vineyard on the far east... all this Darren takes in as he runs for that machete.
“Don’t let him get that ma–”
Ion tried to reclaim his weapon, but Darren came out of nowhere, kicks it forward a little and then picks it up. “heurgh,” before running at least 20 yards ahead and then turning around with the machete in hand to face them and let them know. “Stay the fuck back now!”
