Degüello

by Billy Kring

  The plane’s door opened, and someone rolled out portable stairs to the door. A heavyset man became visible in the plane door. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and aviators, and waved at the woman coming out of the barn to greet him. Paco told the others it was Kit.

  “The one that likes knives,” he said.

  Ike said, “I remember.”

  They watched the man descend the stairs and walk with Kit into the barn. Hunter said, “Let’s get closer while they can’t see us.”

  Ike asked Paco, “Are the kids inside the barn?”

  “The last time I was here, yes, that is where they are kept.”

  Hunter said, “I see a Jeep and the airplane, but no other vehicles.”

  Paco said, “The far side of the barn, there is a carport attached to it.”

  Ike asked, “When they fly the kids out of here, where do they take them?”

  “I hear it is Canada, someplace up there.”

  “Canada?” Hunter said.

  “It is a stop before they take them the rest of the way.”

  “Where’s the final place?”

  “It varies, but always in the Middle East somewhere, like Pakistan, Iran, those places. All of the kids are sold in the Middle East. The money’s too good not to.”

  Hunter’s stomach felt queasy at the thought of selling children to an unknown fate. “We have to stop them here. If they leave, we’ll never find them.”

  She walked down the slope toward the back of the barn, and Paco and Ike followed. They stopped under the shade of the large pecans near the corner of the barn, stepping over a number of branches that had fallen. Hunter heard the barn door slide open and moved her head to the side to watch.

  The pilot left the barn and climbed the steps to the plane, and in a moment, Kit, a big man, and two other women herded the children out the door. They walked two by two, as close to each other as they could, and even from this distance, Hunter saw their fear.

  She recognized Anita, who walked beside the girl she remembered from the photo, Kelly. Kelly looked around, not straight ahead like the others. Hunter thought, she’s looking for a way to escape.

  Hunter looked closer at their guards and saw they all carried shoulder weapons, Ruger Mini-14 rifles, with the long magazines. Fast to maneuver for a shot because of their short length, and the semiautomatic rifle could be fired almost as fast as a full auto M-4. All she and Ike carried were pistols. Plus, the children would be in the way in a shootout.

  Paco searched for a way to escape, but there seemed to be no chance.

  Hunter looked at the Jeep Cherokee, at the way it was parked, but she didn’t have the key. She glanced at Ike and said, “We have to do something quick, or they’re gone.”

  “But what? We’re no match for four rifles.”

  The pilot stood in the plane’s doorway, motioning for the others to bring the children as the big man trotted to the Jeep, keys in hand.

  There’s no more time, Hunter thought. She glanced at Ike, caught his eye with a get ready look, and sprinted for the Jeep and the man with the keys.

  Ike started to yell for her to stop, but caught himself. His focus was on Hunter and he didn’t see Paco pick up a broken branch the size of a baseball bat and swing it.

  The branch smashed against Ike’s temple, breaking the wood with an audible crack. Ike fell forward and crawled several feet before collapsing on the ground, unconscious.

  Paco ran towards Kit, waving his arms, “Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot me!”

  Hunter stopped running and stared at Ike’s prostrate form. She glanced at the kids and saw Kit and the others looking at her, and at Paco as he ran towards them. The big man with the keys yelled at Hunter, “Hey!”

  Hunter saw him reach for the pistol on his belt, and she ducked behind the Jeep but didn’t stop moving and circled the vehicle’s front to pop up and shoot as the man jerked down, dodging her shot and running toward his companions. Hunter saw Kit and the others with the children turn their weapons toward her, and Hunter again slid to the opposite side of the Jeep. She ducked beside the driver’s door and spotted the keys on the ground.

  Kit and Nadine shoved the girls toward the plane as Paco joined them.

  The Pilot started the engines and the propellers whirled into blurs as the powerful twin engines roared to life.

  Kelly shouted to the other children to stop, and they did. The rush to the plane halted, and Kit and Nadine yelled, “Get moving!”

  That few seconds was all Hunter needed. She started the Jeep and shot toward the DC-3 with the pedal all the way to the floor.

  Kit and Nadine opened up on the Jeep with their Mini-14s, and Hunter heard and felt the splang-splang of rounds hitting the vehicle’s body and fenders.

  A round blew out the passenger window when it hit the window frame and the glass, shooting fragments through the interior.

  Hunter felt a wasp-like sting on her cheek as one piece of glass struck her.

  The children stopped again as the firing started, and Kelly said, “Get away from the plane!” She dodged Nadine as the woman reached for her arm, and the other children milled around in panic as shots rang out.

  Kit watched open-mouthed as Hunter drove toward the plane, swerving at the last minute to swing the rear of the Jeep into the spinning propeller with a sound like a series of cannon shots.

  Bits of Jeep and propeller flew outward like jagged missiles, scattering the children back toward the barn.

  Hunter gritted her teeth and held tight to the vibrating steering wheel as the machinegun-like deafening hits of the propeller blades on the Jeep seemed louder than close-hitting lightning.

  The Jeep’s entire rear body above the tires shredded under the impact, and when it cleared, Hunter still had momentum. She spotted the pilot already on the ground and running to Kit and the others as she turned the Jeep in another sliding curve to send the mangled rear hard into one of the wheels, knocking it askew so that the plane lurched like a man with a broken leg.

  The Jeep wobbled out from under the plane and collapsed ten yards behind the tail, the vehicle resembling a relic from a tornado. The engine shuddered and stopped as grey whisps of smoke emanated from under the hood. Hunter looked for the children and saw a large van leaving from under the pole barn.

  The big man drove and slid to a stop by Kit, who, with Nadine, the pilot, and Paco shoved the children inside. He spun the tires as he left, throwing dirt and gravel behind him as he accelerated down the road and away from Hunter, who was on foot and holding her pistol ready to shoot, but she didn’t because of the children inside the van.

  Hunter teared up, she was so mad, and felt like a failure for not rescuing the children.

  Hunter caught movement at the side of the barn and watched Ike stagger forward holding his head. He stopped once and braced against the barn with one hand as he threw up.

  Hunter trotted to him, unaware of Paco’s attack, “What happened?”

  Ike told her, then added. “If I ever get my hands on him…”

  Hunter put one of his arms over her shoulder and they walked slowly, stopping every five minutes or so for Ike to retch. “My head is spinning like a top.”

  “You’ve got a concussion. Your pupils are different sizes. And you’ve got a heck of a knot on the side of your head.”

  “Just keep me walking. Let’s get to the truck. We’ve got to find those kids.”

  Hunter didn’t answer, but thought about what Paco and the other kidnappers might do. They’d tried to burn a van load of children down in the vega near Del Rio, and now, with them being spooked by Hunter and Ike, there was nothing to keep them from doing it again. The thought put Hunter in an anxious state, but she continued walking with Ike. An hour later they reached the pickup and drove away, leaving the wrecked plane and several hundred empty shell casings littering the area.

  Hunter drove as Ike continued to retch every five minutes, and after they made it out of the hills, she tried again to access her phone, and this
time it worked. She contacted the Sheriff’s Office and asked to speak to a Deputy. A minute later a man said, “Deputy Gonzales, what can I do for you?”

  She explained their situation, skimming over some of the particulars, to say, “A van load of kidnapped children is driving down highway 277 toward San Angelo. You need to stop it and rescue the children.”

  She heard the Deputy sit up in his chair, “Do you have a color, and make and model and plate number?”

  Hunter told him, all except the license plate that she missed seeing.

  Deputy Gonzales said, “Where are you?”

  “We’re coming in on highway 277, trying to find the van. I’m a Border Patrol Agent, off duty, and these kidnappers are bad news.”

  Gonzales said, “I’ll put out a watch on the van. Do you know where our office is?”

  “I don’t, but I can find it.”

  “I need to talk to you. Come by and ask for me.”

  Hunter lied and said, “Okay. It might be a few minutes.”

  He said, “This is a matter we can’t delay.”

  “I understand. See you soon.” Hunter cut off the call.

  Ike said, “You’re not through looking.”

  “I know. We’ll meet him when we can. Right now, we need to find that van.”

  Ike wobbled in the passenger seat as if it had come loose at the base. He said, “I’m still feeling kind of queasy.”

  Hunter glanced at him as Ike put down his window and threw up again.

  “Hey,” She said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m ok, just dizzy.”

  “I’ll get you to some help.”

  “What about the kids?”

  “We’re looking. They’re around, I can feel it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Good. I feel better if we both are thinking the same way.”

  “Oh, we are, and we’re pissed, too.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Ike said, “Then quit worrying about me and get to work, Agent Kincaid.”

  Chapter 10

  Kelly looked out the side porthole window of the van as they left the ranch and passed the disabled airplane. She hoped to see the woman that Anita called Hunter, who drove the Jeep into the airplane propeller. That terrified and excited her when she watched Hunter do it, like some movie hero.

  Her attention was diverted by the sudden lurch of the van as Kit went into the rear and cuffed Kelly. The girl half-dodged the blow, but it hit her hard enough on the neck to drop her to the floor. Kit said, “You little bitch, you caused a lot of trouble these last few days.”

  Carl picked up his phone as it rang, then handed it to Kit. “The jefe.”

  Kit’s tone changed as she said, “Yes sir.”

  His voice sounded angry, stressed, “You get this done, you hear me? We’ve got our backs against the wall and our money’s gone. The Zetas can smell blood in the water, Kit, our blood. We’re hanging on by our fingernails, and if this delivery doesn’t happen, we are done, and probably dead.”

  “I understand.”

  “We have to use what we have, no new places. We will trick our enemies and go back to the ranch a second time and fly out from there. I have a crew on the way to repair the plane, and Suretta is tracking Hunter Kincaid and Ike. I gave her specific orders for them. The Zetas or anyone else will never expect us to use the same place after we’ve been hit.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Use the safe house, and then get this done.” He hung up the phone.

  She listened for a few moments to the dead line, and said as she looked at the others, “We will.”

  She said to Carl, “Go to the safe house out by Goodfellow Air Force Base. We stay for a bit, give them time to take care of things.”

  “Then what?”

  “He said that tomorrow, to go back to the barn and the plane. They have people coming, and mechanics. And they’ve spotted that Kincaid woman and her partner. They have people following them right now. One of them is Suretta.”

  “And they’ll get them off our asses?”

  “He’s sure they won’t know we’re doubling back to the ranch.”

  Carl didn’t respond, but Kit picked up that he wasn’t keen on the idea.

  “When we get there tomorrow, you get your turn with the troublemaker here. Just remember not to bruise her face.”

  Carl smiled, “All right.” He looked in the rearview mirror at Kelly, and his smile was not nice.

  Consuela and Anita sat beside her, and Anita clung to her arm.

  Carl drove into San Angelo on Highway 277 and turned on North Bell Street, taking it south until the road turned into South Bell Street.

  Kelly looked out the small window and tried to memorize landmarks, hoping they might help her if the girls could escape. The van passed an athletic park comprised of baseball fields, and immediately after, crossed the Concho River.

  Carl slowed and turned into a neighborhood that was situated across the river from the sports complex on the other river bank.

  Kelly watched several streets pass, and then Carl turned into the drive of a large, brown, barnlike house that had no others between it and the brushy river. It was old, she could tell, but looked solid. The driveway circled the house and pulled under a long carport at the rear door.

  They ushered the girls into the house without wasting time, and Carl watched Kelly more than the others, not wanting her to get away before he had his fun.

  Kit ordered pizzas, and Carl handed out red solo cups so the girls could get water from the faucets. He made it a point to run his hands over Kelly’s shoulders and back, and sometimes her chest, laughing when she squirmed.

  The girls ate in silence, cowed by their circumstances, until Kit said, “Your bedrooms are over there. Get to bed and go to sleep. No talking, either.”

  The sun was barely down, but Kelly led them to the room. They remained quiet through the night, but many of them slept fitfully. Kelly slept little and twice saw Carl come in the dark room and stand by her bed, fondling himself and breathing heavy for several minutes before leaving.

  Everyone awoke at dawn, and Kit served them stale donuts and water. When they finished, the girls returned to the van and got inside.

  Carl and the adults slid into the front seats and left the safe house.

  The van drove back to the ranch in under an hour while receiving regular reports on where Hunter and Ike had been spotted. When Carl pulled to the barn, there was already a pickup and a huge wrecker there, and men working on the airplane. He pulled to the barn and he and Kit shoved the children inside, then he parked the van while Kit guarded them.

  Kelly knew a terrible thing would happen to her and she searched for some way to escape, but Kit watched like a prison guard. Kit said to her, “Just take it, it won’t kill you. Carl is rough, but not mean.”

  “I don’t want him to touch me.”

  Kit barked a laugh, “You don’t get that choice. Here he comes.”

  Carl leered at her as he grabbed her arm and took her to the small room in the rear of the barn. Anita tried to hold onto her, but Kit took her away, careful not to leave a mark on the younger child.

  Kelly struggled to get away, digging her heels in and pushing back, actually jerking the large man off balance. He glared at her and said, “All right, your choice. I take you, or I take your friend there,” he pointed at Consuela, “and ream her out like I’m using a wood auger. Your choice.”

  Consuela’s face blanched, and Kelly saw her friend’s fear. She stopped struggling.

  “That’s better, now come on.” He led her into the room and closed the door as Anita cried.

  The room consisted of the twin bed with the old mattress and squeaky springs, and a chair. A small pile of discarded clothing was in the corner. Carl said, “Take your clothes off, put them on the chair and get on the bed. Stay on top, you don’t need to get under the covers.”

  Kelly’s cheeks burned, “Are you going to watch?”

>   “You bet I am. I don’t want to miss the strip show. Now get them off or I’ll rip them off.”

  Kelly removed her clothes, feeling his eyes on her skin every second, and she hoped this was only a terrible nightmare.

  But it wasn’t.

  Someone knocked on the door and Carl growled, “Go away.”

  Paul, the pilot said, “Hey Carl, you gonna let me in for a look before you get all on that?”

  Carl grinned, “Come on in.”

  Paul’s eyes glistened with an ugly, wet look as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Damn, that’s a nice one.”

  “Go ahead, then you need to leave.”

  Paul walked to Kelly and ran his hands down her, turning her on her side to run his hands over her lower back and buttocks, then down her thighs, doing it slow and massaging the flesh with his fingers. “This one’s gonna be tight.”

  “I know. Now, get out of here, I got business to take care of.”

  Paul high-fived Carl as he passed by, then closed the door behind him. Carl said, “That’s my bud right there. We been friends for a while.” He looked at Kelly and licked his lips, “Now it’s your turn.”

  Outside, the children huddled together and whispered to each other, until the squeaking of the bedsprings started. They stopped talking. The girls watched the closed door with a nauseous sense of dread. The squeaking sound seemed to go on and on and on.

  When it stopped, the children breathed again.

  Inside the room, Carl lifted Kelly’s white socks from the chair and wiped himself with them, leaving pink, wet streaks on the white cotton, then he tossed them on the chair. He said, “Don’t take all day getting dressed.” He grinned, “I’ll visit you again tomorrow, so get ready for some more fun.”

  Kelly watched him dress, his pale skin showing the prison tattoos and scars, and his now limp phallus hanging from the thatch of pubic hair at his groin. He pulled up his pants and zipped the fly, then slipped on the shirt, leaving the buttons undone. He sat on the small bed beside her and put on his socks and boots, making sure to touch her thigh, until she moved to the top of the bed, as far away as she could get. He laughed, rose, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.