Tainted Cure (The Rememdium Series Book 1)

by Ashley Fontainne

  And he’d been in Arkansas for the last eleven years, completely oblivious he’d been less than one hundred miles from his small spread in the outskirts of Pulaski County. Adding the latest new tidbits to the pile of other thoughts inside his mind from the events of the past year, Everett was surprised he hadn’t suffered a psychotic break.

  Unbelievable.

  THE END BEGINS - Present Day - Thursday - December 18th – 10:00 p.m.

  Maria Alvarado’s new huge breasts were still tender even though the surgery was two weeks ago. Though she was in first class, the flight from San Salvador to Phoenix had been full of turbulence. All the shaking and bumping made her chest ache.

  The throbbing pain she’d endured from the minute she awoke in her bedroom up until today was well worth the transformation. When Maria looked at herself in the mirror the first time after the bandages were removed, she saw the body of a real woman in the reflection. Finally, the bubble on the backside had a matching set in the front.

  Shifting in the seat, Maria stared out the window. The trip was her first airplane ride and taste of real freedom. When she first boarded, a fleeting thought of never returning danced in her mind. Knowing she would be hunted down like a lost pet, she quickly dismissed the idea.

  The plane started its descent into Phoenix. Lights glittered below as far as she could see. The excitement of seeing her sister and showing off the rock on her finger and newly acquired breasts made her giddy. Though they talked often on the phone, they hadn’t seen each other since their father had been murdered two years ago. Teresa flew down to San Salvador and attended the funeral then stayed an entire week—long enough to witness their papa’s killer die for his crime at the end of a rope in the stables. Since Teresa was the older sister, Benito allowed her to be the one to pull the lever.

  Though rarely discussed, both sisters knew exactly what their father and future husbands did for a living. They each liked to refer to themselves as businessmen, but Teresa and Maria both knew what the term really meant. Their father attempted to shelter his two daughters from the truth, keeping them away from the ugliness of his world, yet failed.

  Teresa and Maria Alvarado were the children of El Salvador’s biggest drug dealer.

  They grew up in the lap of luxury, no expense spared or request denied. Their mother died giving birth to Maria, so she grew up surrounded by men. Maria’s only interactions with females were with Teresa and the teachers brought in to provide both girls with an education. The flip side of being borne into privilege was neither of them ever went anywhere without bodyguards while on the sprawling, twenty-five thousand acre grounds.

  Up until Teresa fell in love with one of their father’s lieutenants, Roberto Sanchez, neither girl had ever left the estate. Teresa drove their father crazy with her requests to follow Roberto to Phoenix, eventually threatening to kill herself if Roberto left without her. Benito was instrumental in convincing their father to concede defeat. Mario Alvarado hated to lose, so to save face, he agreed as long as one condition was met: Teresa had to give up her heirship to his fortune and let it pass on to Maria. Blinded by love, Teresa eagerly agreed and a few weeks later, she and Roberto left for Arizona.

  Maria had been only seventeen and naively assumed Benito grasped the concept of love at all costs, sacrificing anything, including one’s life and rightful ties to a family fortune, to be loved. While she listened to the heartfelt speech Benito gave to their father, she felt herself fall head-over-heels for the boy. Up until then, she’d always considered Benito San Nicholas nothing more than an adoptive brother. She’d viewed Benito as common street trash. A boy rescued by their father on a whim one afternoon while in San Salvador conducting business was all he’d been to her for years.

  Not long after Teresa left the estate, Maria set her sights on snagging Benito. At first, he remained distant, ignoring her brash advances. Maria grew angry and confronted him one night, insisting to know why he found her so undesirable. Benito had laughed, his big, brown eyes lit up from amusement. When he informed her he shied away because he knew one day she’d inherit the business and he didn’t want to be in love with his future boss, Maria solved the problem. She went to her father and told him she had no interest in taking over his business, and handed heirship over to Benito.

  Less than a month later, her father was murdered by Eduardo Juarez, a lower-level urchin responsible for making deliveries. Maria woke up to the sounds of screaming coming from the east wing. Even from her bedroom, she knew the agonizing wails were from her father. She ran to help, yelling for anyone to assist her. When she opened the door to her father’s bedroom, Eduardo stood over the bloody mess that had once been the mighty Mario Alvarado. Dazed and still clutching the knife in his hand, the bastard fainted when Maria started screaming.

  Maria’s yearning to feel Benito’s lips devour her own happened less than two weeks later. She wasn’t stupid. Maria could tell he really didn’t love her the way she loved him. For the first month, she convinced herself she was wrong. Yet the more sadistic and painful their sexual relationship became, Maria knew her worst fears were real. She resigned herself to believe that giving up her body to only one man in exchange for continuing on in the life she was accustomed to, was much better than becoming a used-up whore on the streets of San Salvador. The thought of servicing nameless men full of God-only-knows what type of diseases or sick fantasies made her cringe in disgust.

  So, Maria hatched a plan. She prayed every night to the Virgin Mary. The request was simple and always the same. She wanted to become pregnant soon after marriage and give birth to a boy. That way, her father’s bloodlines and land holdings would continue on for generations. She was the last hope since Teresa was unable to bear children.

  Unwilling to reminisce on tragedies of the past, Maria concentrated on her sister’s upcoming nuptials. Since her measurements had drastically changed, the first item on their agenda was a meeting with the seamstress so Maria’s maid of honor dress would be altered to fit her new curves. Maria thought the dress was a hideous color and design, yet the low neckline would accentuate her cleavage.

  Everything would be perfect if her stomach would stop rumbling. She’d asked the stewardess for water so many times during the flight she’d lost count. Maria didn’t understand why her guts rolled or why she was so damned thirsty. Thirst gave way to hunger during the last ten minutes. She was ravenous, and for some strange reason, craved meat. Raw meat. Gobs and gobs of it. Maria almost laughed out loud at the thought of shoveling the nastiness into her mouth. She was a vegetarian, and had been since she was fifteen, yet when she tried to eat a fresh carrot she’d brought with her, nearly puked.

  Maria was on her period, so she couldn’t be pregnant. Looking around the cabin, Maria wondered if she’d come into contact with someone who had the flu or a cold. Everyone looked healthy, so maybe someone at the airport in San Salvador had been ill. Considering the city was a cesspool of filth and people, it was the most likely place she’d picked up a bug of some sort.

  When the pressure in the cabin changed as the airport came into view, Maria reached up and wiped her face. Heat radiated from her cheeks and forehead. She groaned. A fever meant she truly was coming down with something.

  Brushing the annoying symptoms away, she stared at the beautiful diamond on her finger. Teresa would be so jealous when she saw the enormous rock in person. Twisting it so the light from the moon made sparkles shimmer across the seat back, she thought about Benito. They had a wicked argument before she left about his decision not to join her in Arizona. Business commitments, he’d told her when she pleaded earlier in the week. When she pushed the issue and continued to beg, Benito yelled at her, which he never did, and stormed out of her bedroom.

  The ugly conversation had been three days ago and not a word had been exchanged between them since. Benito didn’t even come by her wing of the manse to say goodbye. Tears formed in her eyes at the memories, sliding down her hot cheeks. Brushing them away, Maria set he
r jaw and forced herself to concentrate her thoughts on visiting with Teresa.

  After a jarring landing, the plane taxied up to the gate and stopped. Maria was in the first row of seats and the stewardess handed her the carry-on bag, smiling and wishing Maria a pleasant stay in Phoenix.

  Once through customs, Maria entered the main terminal. Her anger at the situation with Benito disappeared. Less than ten feet away stood a man dressed in a chauffer’s uniform holding up a sign reading, “Maria Alvarado – Mi Cielo” in front of him. Her Benito loved her in his own way, and made sure she was taken care of and arrived in style. Maria smiled and waved to the nice-looking stranger. The man walked over and took the bag from her shoulder.

  “Ms. Alvarado, I’m Gregory, your driver for the evening. Your limo is waiting outside. Follow me.”

  A wave of dizziness made Maria’s vision blur for a second. Fearing she would faint, she reached out her hand and grabbed the man’s forearm. “How far? I’m afraid the flight left me feeling a bit off. Guess the excitement of my first experience in the air made me a little woozy.”

  “Do you need to sit down? Or, maybe I should get you a wheelchair?”

  “No, I’ll be fine if you’ll just let me hang on to you while we walk. Okay?”

  Gregory nodded and Maria clung to his arm while they exited the terminal. When they reached the doors leading to the parking area, Maria was soaked in sweat. Burning pain radiated from her chest, extending to her head, legs, and arms. Her thighs felt heavy and arms clunky and useless. She didn’t even have a chance to admire the black limo idling at the curb. By the time they reached it, Maria turned and threw up all over the sidewalk.

  “Here, ma’am, have a seat. There’s water in the small fridge to your left. I’ll get you to your destination quickly.”

  Unable to do anything but nod in agreement, Maria tumbled into the cool leather, her body splaying out across the entire back seat. She fumbled with her purse, trying to get to her cell to call Teresa. The bag slipped off the slick seat and landed on the floorboard out of reach. She heard the driver close the door, shutting out the murmurs of grossed-out travelers who’d witnessed her vomit.

  Trying one more time to grab her purse, Maria stopped short as the pain intensified. She was having trouble breathing. Her chest felt tight and heavy, like someone was sitting on it. Panic welled up inside her at the realization she was thousands of miles from home and was at the mercy of a complete stranger.

  The driver started up the car and she could feel the vehicle move as he guided it away from the curb. Grabbing on to the edge of the seat, Maria tried to sit up. Another wave of dizziness made the task impossible.

  “Please, I think I need a doctor. Take me to the closest hospital? I can’t…seem…to…breathe.”

  “Not a problem, ma’am. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  The tone in the man’s voice was cold, eerie. All wrong. Fear spread through Maria’s chest at the same time her limbs started to convulse.

  Then, everything went black.

  “Sure is a shame to let such a hot piece go to waste. I should’ve sampled some of her before you slit her throat. Then again, she’s only been dead less than an hour. She might still be warm enough to enjoy. Maybe I’ll just pretend she’s unconscious.”

  “That’s disgusting. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Give me a break, Carlos. You’ve done worse. Fucked worse. I still don’t know if the last one in Vegas was male or female. Do you?”

  Carlos Riviera snorted and wiped his bloodied fingers on a towel. He glanced at the metal doors across the room, wondering when Gregory would return to help them clean up and stash the corpse.

  Santos continued, “If I’d been the one picking a sacrificial mule to fill up with coke, I’da made sure she was so ugly her death would be a blessing on mankind.”

  Carlos ignored the blabbering of his brother. They had lots to do—and fast—and get back to Roberto’s bachelor party before anyone noticed they were missing. “There are plenty of others to fill the empty spot in Benito’s bed, I’m sure. Looks aren’t everything, Santos. See her fancy clothes and jewelry? I guarantee you she was a demanding bitch. She probably got mouthy with Benito. Then again, she was pretty sick when Gregory brought her in. Maybe Benito didn’t want to take care of a sick woman, so he found himself a new, healthier toy. Now, quit talking and finish up. We still have to dispose of her body.”

  Santos pushed back the fold of skin under the whore’s right breast, exposing the implant. The other one sat on a metal tray behind him. He tugged on it twice before it popped out. “Oh, shit. This one has a hole! Damn, half the product leaked out. Huh—guess she wasn’t sick after all. Just really fucked up. Oh, the irony! The great Mario Alvarado’s daughter dies from an accidental overdose. Fucking classic.”

  Carlos ran over to the other side of the concrete slab serving as the operating table. Roberto owned the empty warehouse they used as a makeshift drug den and kill room for those who dared cross him. The place had once been a slaughterhouse, complete with numerous slabs centered in the middle for slicing up meat. The sloped floor gave way to an old drainage area, which made clean up a breeze when Santos and Carlos were given such a task.

  With no electricity, the space was hot as hell. The numerous candles lit around the table gave them enough light to kill by, but added to the heat. Sweat trickled down his nose and dripped onto the dirty floor. Ignoring the bloody, cold body of the dead whore, he peered at the large bubble of silicon and then over to its mate on the tray.

  “Stop staring and set it down before you waste anymore! Great, just fucking great! Benito and Roberto will think we shorted them! This screw up is your fault! You probably nicked it when cutting the bitch open while ogling her tits! I told you to be careful and make each cut with care!”

  The men lapsed into a heated argument about what to do and how to explain to Roberto and Benito what had happened to the cocaine. Neither man looked at the dead girl resting less than two feet away.

  Santos heard the weird noise first. It was a strange gurgling sound, reminding him of his cat Escobar when trying to throw up a hairball. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, but not in enough time to warn Carlos.

  In shocked horror, Santos couldn’t get his mouth to form words at the disturbing, impossible sight. The slippery implant fell from his trembling fingers, exploding when it hit the floor. The liquid inside disappeared down the grate in the floor. The formerly dead bitch jerked upright and lunged. Thick, purplish-red blood spilled from the large gashes on her chest and neck. The mottled skin around the gaping wounds flapped in time with her quick movements. Grabbing Carlos from behind, she yanked his torso on top of her and sunk her teeth into his cheek.

  Carlos and Santos screamed at the exact same time.

  “Help me, Santos! Get this bitch off me!”

  Santos was frozen by paralyzing fear. He couldn’t stop staring, his mind refusing to grasp the unbelievable situation. The thing in front of him continued to tear chunks of flesh from his brother’s body, oblivious to the blows Carlos landed on her torso. They tumbled off the slab onto the floor right next to Santos’ foot. The creature was fast and used the opportunity to rip into Carlos’ belly. Bright, red blood burst from the wound and Carlos shrieked in agony.

  Adrenaline kicked in and the will to fight overrode the terror thumping in Santos’ chest. He snatched the scalpel Carlos used less than an hour prior on the bitch from the table. He buried it into her back, pulled it loose, and stabbed again.

  Carlos’ screams ceased after being disemboweled. Santos choked back tears at the horrible sight of his brother ripped to shreds. The thing that killed him grumbled again, turning her attention on Santos. Blood covered every inch of her face, strips of his brother’s guts hung from her mouth. Crouching, her flat, dead eyes focused on Santos, she spun around and nipped at his foot, gurgling and growling like a demon from Hell.

  Santos scrambled ba
ckward but lost his footing on the slick floor. He fell into the tray table, the bowl holding the other implant crashing to the floor. A strange popping sound followed. The scalpel clattered across on the concrete after his hands shot out to catch himself. The blade bounced away out of reach.

  The drooling, snarling thing came at him. Santos kicked his feet, landing a solid hit to her cheek, forcing the head to twist at an awkward angle. He could hear bones cracking from the impact, yet the blow didn’t seem to faze the creature. Her right hand caught his other foot, and though he tried to gain traction on the wet floor and move away, it was no use. Clamping her wet mouth around his calf muscle, Santos screamed as she tore off nearly all the muscle in his lower leg.

  Footsteps behind him allowed Santos to find his voice, “Help me! Jesus, kill it!”

  He heard the gunshot at the same time the bitch’s head exploded in front of him. The wet, sticky gore splashed across his face and body. The top of her head was gone, her mouth frozen wide, his skin and muscle dangling from it.

  “What the fuck happened?” Gregory said, his face pale and voice cracking.

  Out of breath and heart pounding, Santos shook his head. “Not a fucking clue. The drugs…they leaked into her…so all I can think of is they fried her brain or something. Just…help me, please? I’ve got to stop the…”

  Gregory leaned down and grabbed Santos, hefting him upright. After depositing him on the closest slab, he muttered, “Take care of your leg. Stop the bleeding so there’s less for me to clean up. We’ve gotta move fast, in case someone heard the gunshot. No time to waste. Where’s the cleaver?”

  Santos tried to remain stoic but failed. He leaned over and threw up so hard he feared his eyeballs would burst. Once finished, he yanked off his shirt and began to wrap his leg. “In the bag next to Carlos. There’s two, so help me get my legged wrapped because I want to be the one to chop that bitch up.”