by Mari Arden
Braidon is yelling and Jose closes his eyes, a tear dropping from one eye. "I'm sorry, nephew," he says in a choked voice. "But you cannot have her. You can never have her now. She belongs to Gonzales." I watch the drug take affect and Braidon goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud.
A tiny part of me remembers how he helped me when Grandma passed. It's enough to make me feel a little empathy for Braidon. In some ways, he can't be held responsible for his actions because he's mentally ill. In the end, it doesn't matter. I only see a criminal when I look at him now.
Jose touches Braidon tenderly. "You'll be all right. I love you. I'll never hurt you."
Drugging and almost suffocating your nephew to death shows that you love him? It makes no sense, but then I shouldn't be surprised. I've been thrust into a world of monsters.
Jose starts toward me. Instantly, I move back, shaking my head frantically. "I'm sorry, Julianna, but this is the way it must be. You can't see where we're going-"
"Blindfold me, please!"
Jose shakes his head. "No," he says firmly. "We can't risk you seeing anything. You need to go to Gonzales unconscious."
I'm breathing hard, as if all the oxygen's been sucked out of the room. This isn't part of the plan. I need to see where I'm going to find an escape route or leave a clue, at least.
"Jose, please…"
There's no swaying him. If he can drug his nephew without blinking, then I am even easier for him to hurt. My body is trying to get away, unwilling to go down without a fight. His hands are hard when he presses the same cloth he'd used on Braidon, to my face. I can't breathe. I feel lightheaded. Desperate, I picture Pax's face.
He is the last thing I see before the darkness returns to claim me.
CHAPTER 32
Something cold hits my body.
I jerk from the impact. It hurts. Stop, I try to say. The coldness lingers, creating a sting so sharp I cringe. The blackness shifts to a dark violet, sinister and gloomy. I'm scared in this place, but there's less pain. I drift, floating over a purple fog. I hear something and then…cold. It's accompanied by another harsh sting. This time the sting starts from my mouth and travels through my body. I cry out. The fog dissipates, and a bright light shines through.
"Open your eyes."
I struggle to obey. My body is ringing, and pain is everywhere. If it hurt to blink before, the pain is multiplied by a hundred now.
"Stop crying and open your eyes!" The voice orders. Smack! I jerk. Someone is whimpering. I want to shut out the sounds. I don't want to hear it.
"Julianna, you little bitch, open your eyes before I shut them forever."
The whimpering gets louder.
I realize it's coming from me.
I gasp with the effort, but I do it. I open my eyes.
At first, all I see a bright light. It's gray and white at the same time, reminding me of a hospital. Out of the corner of my eyes I see the figures of people. Two, maybe more. I turn my head, but the effort is too much for me, so I stay still instead. My wrist shifts, and the coldness hits me again. Instantly, I'm motionless.
Steel cold.
Handcuffs.
I'm handcuffed to a table. My feet are cuffed, too. Ironically, my head is the only part of my body not chained, but it's the part that hurts the most to move.
"Ah, little tigress, you are awake."
The voice sends shivers down my spine. It's haunted my dreams and now it's back in the flesh.
"Gonzales," I croak out. Whatever I'm lying on shifts, and slowly I'm moved vertically until I'm in a standing position with my body cuffed to the table. The shadow in front of me moves, coming into the light. He looks exactly as I remember: handsome with thick hair and perfect rectangle spectacles over the bridge of his nose. There is only one difference: Gonzales is limping. He follows the direction of my gaze.
"Crutches. They are not so bad once you get used to them." He smiles. "I've actually found very creative uses for these." Disgust boils in my stomach. "It's become a blessing you shot me in the hips. If you'd been a centimeter off, you would have gotten the family jewels." His heavy accent makes the words sound less deadly than they are. I'm not fooled. He's playing with me. He will find a way to hurt me very badly before this is all over.
I hear the sounds of a door closing. "Today is a good day," Gonzales begins with a large smile. "Two days ago, I gave orders for my men to find you, and today, you are here, perfectly wrapped." He pauses, grinning with white teeth. "Just for me." It's important to keep my eye on the predator so I try to follow him with my gaze even though I am terrified inside.
He makes a clucking sound. "You have caused me a lot of trouble, little chica. My enemies came for me. They heard a little girl had gotten the best of me." He reaches for my arm. "They wanted to overthrow me. Can you believe that?" He squeezes my arm, and I gasp from the pain. "They wanted to destroy me. They forget I am a ghost, and I can slip away from their grasp like mists." His fingers dig into my skin so hard that I'm sure he's broken it. He bends until his face is inches from mine.
"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Julianna. Tell me why I should not kill you right now."
"The FBI knows about you," I blurt out. I swallow and it feels like my throat has turned into sandpaper. "One of your henchmen snitched." I cough. I taste blood in my mouth. Someone has hit me.
He makes a sound like a click. "Ah, that has always been a problem for every man in my line of work. Loyalty is so easily bought and bartered." Gonzales doesn't seem concerned, and instantly, I wonder if I've made the wrong move.
"They will come for you," I say, struggling on. "They know everything."
That makes him hesitate, but it's brief. He moves behind me and disappears from my line of vision.
"Do you know why I chose to come here?" he asks, his voice more faint. He doesn't wait for me to reply. "I saw opportunity in this country. There was a demand for what I do, and I took advantage of it. I'm a businessman, Juliana. I supply the demand."
Gonzales returns to stand in front of me. "I'm a farmer. I plant Cannabis, among other things. I make marijuana and ship it to people who need it. Some use it for pleasure, others use it to help their body. What I do doesn't kill anyone, not directly anyway, and yet your country's government spends millions every year to take guys like me down."
He limps closer. "Your companies make many things and send the toxins into the air, hurting our atmosphere, helping to destroy our very planet, and yet they are not persecuted. They have white skin, blonde hair, and fancy suits and your government looks the other way. I have fancy suits too, but I have black hair, brown eyes, and an accent. So they come after me."
They come after you because you're a criminal, you idiot!
He's moving again. "We traveled to many places before settling here. The plants need many things and the winter is very harsh. Many friends laugh that I try to do this in Minnesota instead of places like California. But the police go there first, no? They never come here. They don't think anyone can make it here." He smiles. "But I did. I made it."
His chest puffs out a little. He can't hide his pride. "They can come here and burn everything. They can take it all away, but I will always rebuild again."
"Not if you're in jail," I say. "Not if they catch you."
He waves a hand in dismissal. "They may catch me, but they won't be able to keep me." He boasts. His connections are far reaching. A nagging doubt whispers maybe he's right; maybe he'd escape if he wanted to.
"Winter is here," he announces abruptly. "We have slowed down on our production, only making what the green houses can take," he reveals. "The money is not so good in the winter."
"You don't look like you're starving."
"No," he confirms. "I'm a businessman. I deal in many…businesses."
Red. The room. The people. The blood.
I quiver.
"Are you cold?" His smile is icier than the arctic. I can't move. If the cold isn't freezing me, the intense fear I feel right no
w is. "Do you know what I call this room, Julianna?" I don't dare answer him. He pushes his face closer to mine. "The meat room." He moves a strand of hair from my eyes. It's the touch of death. "Do you know what the meat is?"
My eyes fog up. Tears fill them until I can't see anymore.
"You."
He moves back. One hand reaches out to touch my abdomen area. "Do you know how much a kidney is worth on the black market?" A nail presses deep into my skin. I jump. "A heart? A brain?" He watches my reaction. "If there is a demand, I supply it. The demand for body organs is staggering, astounding really. There just aren't enough people dying to make up for what people want." His finger pushes hard against my stomach. "That's where I come in."
My teeth chatter. I can't control how violently I'm shaking.
"There is a demand for live subjects to test different drugs and chemicals. There is even a demand from certain clients for specific body parts." He pauses. "For example, human tongue, I hear is quite a delicacy in some parts of the world."
A graphic picture suddenly flashes in my head. Cannibalism. It isn't real. He's lying isn't he? Full blown panic reaches to every part of me. His eyes survey me like I'm merchandise. I gag. Whatever I have in my stomach comes up in a rush. It's thin and watery and I continue to heave even when there's nothing left. He watches me with a disgusted look on his face.
"You are not naive about this world, Julianna. I expected a little more steel from you. After all, you did single handedly burn down my farm."
I blink rapidly, not acknowledging it. In my fantasies, I stand up to Gonzales. I'm triumphant as I tell him what I did. In this reality, I don't do that. I'm shaking too much. My heart's racing faster than I ever imagined it could. I try to get my breathing under control.
"Yes, I've thought about it and have concluded it must be you. No one else knows where it is except the workers, and you're the only one stupid enough to try something like that. You can burn everything down for all I care," he dismisses. "The real money is here." He pinches my skin. I attempt to shrink back, but there's nowhere to move. My cheeks are wet with my tears.
A man in blue scrubs steps into my line of vision. "This is Doctor Martinez. He will be performing your surgery today." Before I can scream, Gonzales puts his hand over my mouth. He moves so fast I don't see him coming. "I'm not bothering to gag you," he hisses. "I want the others to hear your screams. I want them to tell everyone what happens when you cross Juan Gonzales. I want you to watch him cut your body and feel every single incision. You made a mistake when you chose to cross me, little tigress." He presses his face against my ear. "And now I want everyone to hear you purr."
His words paralyze me. I feel completely numb. I pray the feeling will remain. I close my eyes. They will come for me. They have the map. They will come…
I just need to survive.
Gonzales moves back, shoving me back against the board. He gestures to the man beside him. "You may begin."
I can't stop screaming when I feel the blade pierce my skin.
CHAPTER 33
The first cut is the deepest.
When the blade slices my abdomen, I feel the penetration to my core. The lights above waver before they're right on top of me again, glaring and encompassing. The pain is so sharp that the heat from the bulb seems to burn my skin, scalding it into submission. I struggle against my restraints, but it only causes my stomach to slide closer to the blade, and nearer to my torture.
Animal sounds come from me, raw, wild and uncontrollable. I've never felt any pain like this. It's as if every cell inside me has been torched, the fire burning them into ashes. I hear the sounds of metal scraping. I even hear the sounds of my blood dripping, spilling over me like the slow dripping of raindrops over leaves. Mostly, I hear my terror, shrill screams I didn't know I was capable of making. A tiny part of me begs me to resist, to quiet my cries and die in defiance. My body refuses to cooperate, shrinking and begging for mercy.
The pain is too much.
A heavy gray cloud descends before my eyes. If I peer closely, I see a tunnel. I feel something being pulled out of me, and abruptly, I'm moving toward the tunnel. A figure is waiting for me.
"Dad?" I whisper.
I've never seen his face before. For a moment, light pierces the darkness around me. For a moment, I feel a tiny spark of something other than anguish. Dad? The figure turns and the outline of his body becomes clearer. There was smoke around him before like the showers I used to take where steam would settle over a mirror. The steam is dissipating now and slowly his face comes into view. I reach out my hand to him. Something hard tugs at my midsection as if it's pulling away at my insides. I tremble.
Please, I try to tell him. Take me away.
The figure steps back.
Abruptly, his eyes start to glow. They become so bright they blind me. When the light starts to dim, I make out what color his eyes are.
Green.
Familiar.
The figure takes another step back.
He won't take my hand, I realize. He's stopped my pain before, yet he refuses now. Why? I want to shout. Why? He doesn't reply.
Then the blackness comes over me, washing over everything but his green eyes.
Survive.
* * *
I jerk awake. Screams surround me.
"Do you hear that? It's music to my ears."
Cruel laughter follows. Something tugs at me, pulling and bruising.
"Almost there…"
My whole body feels weightless. The screams get louder.
"There! We have it." His voice is calm and analytical. "Shall I take both?"
"No. Only one for now. I want her alive."
"What will you do with her?"
"Break her piece by piece and sell her to the highest bidder."
I feel a hand circle my neck. The screams stop.
I'm floating over an emerald city.
I see fields everywhere, stretching like thick fabric. There's a figure directly below me. Her skirt billows out as she tries to follow me, waving. A ghost of a smile traces her features, so familiar and comforting that I tear up.
"Grandma!" I shout into the wind. "Follow me!" I know she hears me because she continues to look up, forming words I can't hear. I shake my head. "We'll go together," I tell her. We'll be together forever.
She continues to look at me, a tender expression that stops the pain in my stomach. I want her to keep looking at me like that. I halt, slowly sliding down, drifting closer to her.
"She's losing too much blood. Pump another pint into her…"
I'm a shadow, translucent and broken.
"Heart rate's low. We'll shoot another..."
"I want her alive. We need her to barter with them." Gonzales cold voice seeps through my consciousness.
I'm a wisp of air.
I can't hold onto myself any longer.
"Go away," she tells me. She has a smile on her face though. She's happy to see me. I feel it.
I shake my head, clutching my midsection. "No." My feet are almost to the ground. I feel it pull at me like magnet. "No." She reaches out her hand like she wants to touch me. I hesitate. I want her to, but I'm afraid. I'm close enough to see faint marks on her body. Bloodstains.
"Does it hurt?" I ask. She shakes her head, her smile widening. "I want the pain to stop," I confess.
"We're sewing her up now. She's under heavy anesthesia and shouldn't feel a thing."
Silence.
"Shit, these American girls bleed so damn much…"
Laughter. "It's all the food in their country, amigo! American pigs," he spits.
I'm coming together, like colored pieces of a mosaic.
Then something loud pierces the air, shattering the quiet.
A man cusses. "They're close. Fucking policia!"
"Work faster."
I'm being pulled tighter, harder. I can't move.
"They are here for her."
"What's the difference between this bitch and
the others? We should kill her now and be done with it." The voice is angry and hard. I hear sounds.
Then the pain explodes inside me.
I break again.
She looks empathetic at my pain. Her eyes dart to my midsection. The compassion is fleeting, and lasts for only a moment. Then a determined look crosses her face, the kind that used to scare me. It makes her eyes hard and angry.
"Go back."
"No."
"There is nothing for you here." She gestures around her. "Nothing but fields and blue skies…"
"That doesn't sound too bad."
Her eyes narrow. "You've never wanted it. It's not who you're meant to be."
"I'm meant to be with you," I plead, trying to make her understand.
"No," the word is forceful. Her eyes get stormy. "You're meant to be with someone else."
Those words hurt. They remind me of him. I see his face in my mind's eye. I shake my head, but my actions are slow, uncertain.
Jules!
I hear his voice in the sky.
"What the fuck are we supposed to do with her? They're smoking us out!"
"Gonzales said we must stay with her. We need her!"
My head hits something hard. I whimper.
"She's fucking bleeding all over me. You didn't sew her tight enough!"
I feel something squeeze the breath out of me. I can't breathe. A struggling, guttural moan breaks from my lips. Then I hear blasts of sounds.
Gun shots.
"I'm not dying for this bitch!"
"You'll die if you don't have her when we meet Gonzales at the check point!"
"Fuck that. He can't survive that shit they threw at us. No one can! It's each man for himself!"
Another blast.
"Fuck!"
"What should we do?"
"Leave her. Let her burn like the rest of them."
