Saint Death

by Devan Sagliani

  “I might need a little help,” Dave said, looping his arm over his old friend’s shoulder.

  “You too sweetheart,” Zack said, motioning to Maria with the gun. “Let's go.”

  “You're making a very big mistake,” Maria hissed. “The Holy Mother protects and watches over me. She will make you pay for what you've done here.”

  “Maybe she will and maybe she won't,” Zack said, pushing her towards the police cruiser with the barrel of the gun. “Either way you're coming with us. And if any of you try to stop us or slow us down she dies. Got it?”

  Officer Reyes just glared in reply. Zack marched her to the cruiser, helping Dave as they went. To his relief the keys were still in the ignition. He'd put on a good show, buoyed up by fear and adrenaline, but he doubted he'd be able to get the keys from Reyes without a fight, one he probably wouldn't survive. He opened the back of the cruiser and motioned for Maria to get inside. She complied with a sneer, a deadly rage covering her features like a widow's veil. Dave slid in next to her, wincing from the pain of the blade still stuck in his side. Zack handed him the gun.

  “Keep it on her at all times and don't take your eyes off of her,” Zack warned as he climbed into the driver's side. “Any sudden movements on your part and she dies. Understood?”

  Reyes nodded, his dark eyes moving back and forth rapidly like a snake.

  Zack turned over the ignition and the car roared to life. The sound of the engines smooth purring caused a flood of hope to shoot through him. We can make it, he thought in relief. A few minutes ago it looked like we were both going to die horrible deaths but now there is a chance we might just survive this nightmare.

  He put the car in gear and backed up slowly, pulling away from the site of the ritual killings. Saint Death leered at him with her bony face as he turned the car, yanking the lever down and putting it into drive. He sped off like a shot being fired out of a cannon, kicking up plumes of dirt and sand as they tore down the unpaved roads before shooting out onto the highway like a bat out of hell.

  It was only a matter of minutes before he saw Reyes behind him, racing after them in Angel's black Nissan with the cracked windshield. Zack jammed the gas pedal down as hard as he could, opening up a gap between them as they pulled away. He knew it wouldn't last long, that they needed a real plan, but his mind was racing so fast he couldn't think straight.

  “What are we going to do?” Dave asked.

  “We're going to get you to the hospital,” Zack said. “Just hang on.”

  “We can't go to the hospital,” Dave roared. “In a stolen police cruiser? Come on man. Think!”

  “We don't have any other options so unless you want to bleed out and die that's my plan,” Zack yelled. “We'll just have to pray the rest of the cops aren't in on it. Just sit tight and I'll get you there in one piece buddy.”

  They raced down highway 19 back towards Cabo San Lucas, not slowing for cross traffic or stalled vehicles. By the time they had passed the Super Pollo and turned left onto Padre Nicolas Tamaral the Nissan was right on their tail. Angel was in the passenger seat, his right hand cupping his bullet-damaged left shoulder, his eyes locked intently on the cruiser. Reyes sped up and rammed the back of his stolen cruiser with the Nissan, sending a loud vibrating hum through the car’s interior.

  Dave turned to look back as Reyes punched it again, slamming into them once more. Maria, who had ridden in calculating silence, saw her moment to strike. She grabbed the handle of the buck knife sunk into the soft flesh of Dave's side and twisted it free, causing Dave to let out a blood curdling scream of pain and discharge the gun. Maria blocked his arm as it came up with the gun, forcing it towards Zack's head. The bullet shot through the front windshield narrowly missing Zack's left temple and creating a dazzling spider web of cracked glass as it exited.

  “What the fuck?” Zack shouted, his ear ringing so loudly he thought for sure the drum was busted. He turned to see Maria plunging the blade into Dave's stomach several furious times. His friends face turned pale as milk, his expression turning slack. Dave's hand went limp and the gun dropped to the floorboards with a rattle. Holding the wheel with his left hand Zack swung at Maria in the backseat with his right hand, striking the high priestess in the face. She lashed out at him, thrusting the blade wildly at his neck and slicing into his right ear before burying the blade into Zack's balled up fist. Zack let out a wounded cry, his left hand instinctively jerking the wheel and running them off the road at full speed into the back of a parked car. An explosion of sound erupted as Zack lurched forward against the safety restraint, feeling the belt painfully cut into his chest and stomach. His head whipped around and something heavy and unyielding smacked him in the face, causing him to bite down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. There was a spray of glass as the windshield exploded and Maria and Dave were ejected. A loud popping sound went off and Zack was thrown back against the seat as the airbag deployed in his face, coating him with white powder and nearly breaking his nose. Somewhere in the distance he heard tires screeching then a loud crash of metal on metal, followed by the near musical tinkle of broken glass raining down on hot asphalt.

  Zack sat in shock behind the wheel of the demolished police cruiser, blood drooling from his swollen nose. A warm trickle ran down his neck. He sat up feeling like he'd just survived a kegger at the Frat house, his head ringing, and tried to remember who he was and how he'd gotten there. He reached back and rubbed the blood from his neck, working his way up. A sharp pain rang out as he touched his wounded ear, followed by one in his cut hand. He undid the safety belt and pushed himself out of the cop car.

  A small group of people had gathered on the side of the road to point and stare. Zack made his way around the car, limping like a zombie extra on the set of The Walking Dead. Maria and Dave laid about six feet apart, both twisted and motionless, like a child's dolls left out after a particularly rough play session. Zack stumbled quickly towards his friend, doing his best to ignore the blinding pain in his side from where the seat belt had saved his life. His legs felt stiff and his lungs burned. Passing Maria he saw that her journey through the windshield had nearly decapitated her. A dark pool of crimson oozed around her blood matted hair and face. Her eyes and mouth were open in a state of perpetual surprise. A dark thought occurred to Zack.

  Looks like your Saint Death couldn't save you after all, Zack mused, unable to tear his eyes away from the grisly scene of her death. Hope you enjoy your trip to hell.

  Dave's body looked serene by comparison. His eyes were half closed and there was the slightest hint of a bemused smirk on his lifeless, waxy face.

  He was probably already gone by the time he was thrown from the car, Zack realized. He looks more at peace than I've ever seen him.

  “Well Dave,” Zack said, tears welling up in his eyes, “looks like you saved my life buddy. I feel bad that I never got the chance to thank you. I hope you're someplace happy, with your father.”

  A primal scream brought him out of his dazed reverie. Zack looked up to see Officer Reyes stumbling away from the Nissan, which was now wrapped around a telephone pole on the opposite side of the street.

  He lost control right after we did, Zack realized. Looks like he tried to over correct the wheel and slid into the pole – Angel first.

  He strained but didn't see any movement coming from the passenger side of the car. It certainly didn't look like anyone could possibly have lived through it.

  Good, Zack thought defiantly. Death is what they worshipped and death is what they deserve.

  Reyes put his head down and charged at him. Zack tried to turn and run but only got a few steps before the enraged officer overtook him with a fierce tackle. The force of the impact took him clean off his feet and the two toppled to the asphalt, rolling over several times before coming to a halt with Reyes on top of the stunned young man. Zack covered his bruised face with his sore hands as a rain of angry blows poured down on him from above. He gasped as Reyes turned his attention to his b
ruised ribs and tender gut, doubling over onto his side.

  “You took everything from me,” Reyes raved, sounding like a demon dredged up from the bowels of hell. “Now I'm going to return the favor. After I kill you I'm going to track down the people you love, your parents, your brothers and sisters, and I'm going to make them pay for your crimes against me and my family. Their deaths will be slow and painful, I can promise you that. I will see to it that the women in your family are brutally raped and tortured until they beg for mercy, but I will show them none.”

  Reyes leaned over and picked his gun up off the asphalt, chambering a fresh round. He cast a long, dark shadow over Zack as he pointed the weapon at his head.

  “I will not rest until you and your family are wiped off the face of the Earth and forgotten,” Reyes continued to rant as he stood over Zack, his eyes filled with a delirious fire of righteousness. “There is nowhere the cartel cannot go, no one they cannot get to, even in America. They are in the streets and the prisons. They buy or kill judges, police, even politicians. If your loved ones try to run I will chase them down like animals. You have my word that I will not sleep until they have paid for your sins boy. Think about that as the light fades and Santa Muerte eats your eternal soul cabrón!”

  Zack raised his hands again to his face as Reyes leaned closed with the gun, ready to end his life. A loud crack rang out and Zack let out an involuntary scream as a fine spray of blood covered him. Reyes teetered back and forth in his cowboy boots for a moment before tumbling down on top of Zack. Zack scrambled like a panicked animal to get the dead cop off of him, pitching him to the side in his struggle and scurrying to his feet. He stared in confusion at the gaping hole of ragged meat in the middle of Reyes forehead leaking a steady stream of blood, unable to process what had just happened.

  “Over here,” a voice called out, breaking the spell. Zack looked up to see the limo driver, Oscar, still holding a gleaming fifty caliber revolver with a long shiny barrel and a black rubber grip. In the distance he could hear police sirens. “The cops will be here any minute! Let's go!”

  Zack hurried to the limo's passenger side door and climbed in. Oscar got back behind the wheel, tossing the smoking hand cannon between them on the seat. He threw the limo into gear and made a sharp one hundred and eighty degree turn, driving up over the curb and onto the sidewalk before slamming back down on the road and peeling out.

  Zack was still in a daze. “What's happening right now?”

  “What's happening is I just saved your life Holmes,” Oscar said, taking off his white dress shirt to reveal a wife beater beneath and skin covered with old jail house tattoos.

  “But how did you know I was in trouble?” Zack asked.

  “I didn't,” Oscar said, looking in the rearview nervously. So far they were still on their own but Zack knew from the amount of bystanders and witnesses that it would only be a matter of time before an APB was put out on the limo. “I told you before, I drive this road a lot for work. I was bringing back a group of kids from Florida but that mess you left in the road back there forced me to stop. When I saw Reyes tackle you I grabbed Eastwood here.”

  He gently patted his enormous gun with his right hand, the way a proud owner might pet his beloved pure breed after winning Best in Show.

  “At that point my fare jumped out and ran,” Oscar laughed.

  “You named your gun Eastwood?” Zack asked in shock.

  “You know,” Oscar said, his eyes still locked on the rearview mirror, “like Dirty Harry?”

  “I thought you were trying to stay out of prison,” Zack said. “Why did you save me?”

  “Shit. You could just say thank you,” Oscar chided.

  “I'm serious,” Zack said.

  “It's better to do what's right than what's easy,” Oscar said. “My grandfather taught me that. He was the most important person in my life. Besides that cocksucker got what he deserved. Between him and his flunkies demanding payouts several times a week it was becoming almost impossible to make a decent profit anymore. Trust me, a lot of people are going to be happy that he's dead.”

  “So what now?” Zack asked nervously.

  “I hope you brought your passport,” Oscar replied. “Otherwise you're fucked!”

  Zack felt in his front pocket. The passport was still there. He took it out and stared at it.

  “You said not to trust the hotel staff so I brought it with me.”

  “Good,” said Oscar, sounding relieved. “We're headed straight to the airport. We'll ditch the car in overnight parking and slip into the terminal. At that point we go our separate ways. I'm going to grab the first flight out of town and I suggest you do the same. Hopefully by the time they realize what's happened you'll be long gone. By the way, what happened to your friend Dave?”

  “He didn't make it,” Zack said, his eyes filling up again with fresh tears.

  Oscar leaned over and opened the glove compartment. Several pill bottles rattled out onto the floorboards as he dug through to find the one he wanted. He popped the lid and brought the bottle to his lips, gulping down a couple pills before handing them to Zack.

  “What are they?” Zack asked tentatively, staring at the little yellow pills inside the orange plastic tube.

  “Norco,” Oscar barked back. “Painkillers. They'll help you get where you're going. Take one now and put the rest in your pocket.”

  Zack did as Oscar suggested, dry swallowing down the first chalky pill before slipping three more into his jean pocket.

  “Thanks man,” Zack said. “For everything.”

  “I'm sorry about your friend,” Oscar said. “He was a man after my own heart.”

  “I can't talk about that right now,” Zack said, his eyes filling with stinging tears. “I just can't or I'll lose it.”

  “I knew that cop,” Oscar said abruptly changing the subject. “He's one of the most corrupt on the force. Who was the woman?”

  “His wife I think,” said Zack.

  “Why was he trying to kill you?” Oscar asked.

  “His son drugged and kidnapped us then brought us to some old ranch and sold us to some cartel psychos who were going to torture us to death in some freakish religious ceremony.”

  “Santa Muerte,” Oscar whispered, making the sign of the cross over himself. “Saint Death.”

  Zack's eyes went wide with surprise. “You know about that shit?”

  “I've heard rumors,” Oscar said, looking concerned for the first time since killing the cop. “They are bad news man. It's said they kill babies and virgins, shit like that, in exchange for power, protection, and in some cases eternal life.”

  “These guys preferred killing Americans,” Zack said. “They got off on it.”

  “Either way you are lucky to be alive,” Oscar said. “Just sit tight. We'll be there soon. Then we roll the dice and pray for luck.”

  Zack stared out of the window in a daze, fighting back tears. If there was one thing he could use at that moment it was a little bit of luck.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zack leaned over the bathroom sink and spit a fresh wad of blood up. He turned on the water, pulling a sip into his mouth, and washing down his second painkiller. Standing back up he gingerly washed the blood off of his hands, watching as it turned pink against the slick white basin and whirled down the dark drain. The painkiller had come on strong, blossoming like a warm flower in the middle of his chest that radiated relief. The hot water felt good too. Cautiously he filled his hands with it and began to wash his face and damaged ear. Unrolling a strip of gauze he began to bandage his ear first and then his hand.

  He'd taken the first aid kit from the back of the limo before they'd abandoned it in long term parking as planned. Zack tried to wrap his head around the idea that Oscar was willing to leave behind the life he'd built for himself just to save a strangers life. He honestly couldn't fathom why he'd done it, and he certainly didn't have the words to adequately thank him, so he stood there awkwardly as Oscar took a c
ouple suitcases from the back of the limo and set them on the parking lot floor.

  “I didn't have time to pack a getaway bag,” Oscar explained. “Guess I thought I didn't need it anymore since I was out of the life. Lucky for us the guys who bailed on my fare left their stuff behind. Let's see what they left us.”

  He unzipped the bags and flipped them open. Inside the first were several business suits, dress shirts, and ties. The second contained sportswear. Oscar wasted no time pulling on a Miami Dolphins jersey that read WAKE over the number 91. He found a matching hat inside and pulled it down over his hair all the way to his eyebrows. “How do I look?”

  “Like any other red blooded American football fanatic,” Zack said. “You should blend right in.”

  “Perfect,” Oscar replied, nodding his head in agreement.

  Zack pulled on a long sleeve shirt as delicately as he could then covered it with an expensive suit jacket. Both items were a little oversized but they'd do so long as he didn't get questioned. He turned back to Oscar who looked oddly excited for a man fleeing a life he'd worked so hard to build.

  “I'm taking the suitcase with me,” Zack announced. “It might look suspicious if we show up with no luggage.”

  “Good idea Holmes,” Oscar replied, grabbing the sports memorabilia filled duffle bag and looping it over his shoulder. “Well, I guess this is the end of the line for us. Good luck and don't get caught. See you in the next life.”

  Oscar hurried off through traffic towards the main terminal. After a few minutes had passed, Zack made his way in the same direction, trying his best to blend into the crowd despite looking like he'd just lost a prize fight against Mike Tyson, right down to his torn ear. He hurried into the first bathroom he saw and began the process of cleaning up. He'd been at it for over fifteen minutes. Strangers came and went but none seemed interested in him.

  Guess I'm not the first tourist to run into trouble south of the border, Zack thought as he applied the last bandage.