GREED Box Set (Books 1-4)

by John W. Mefford

  “You know when I got to the school, a counselor warned me about something that did have me a bit concerned. Now I'm probably more curious than worried.” She laid out the bait.

  “What could be the big concern in the center of suburbia USA?”

  “I'd heard about all these teenagers dying from drug overdoses. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no prude,” she said, squeezing his arm and smiling. “When it's time to party, I'm at the front of the crowd, but I don't want to take any freaky shit or anything.”

  Zachary's expression remained unchanged. “I hear what you're saying.”

  Andi was frustrated she couldn't get him to open up, get mad, show some emotion that might allow the truth—whatever that was—to spill out. Maybe he was nothing more than a spoiled teenage junkie.

  Zachary pulled out another joint, as if he needed something to control his nerves, possibly his thoughts.

  “Wanna a hit?” he asked.

  Not able to fake it this time, Andi accepted and immediately felt her head spin. This is some strong weed, she thought.

  “So, it seems like you enjoy hanging out with the public school kids a lot,” Andi pointed out.

  “Yeah, they're fun, not as stuck up as the rich kids.”

  Purposely giggling, Andi replied, “Aren't you one of those rich kids?”

  “I guess so. Hey, let's go over there behind that sand dune where we can be private,” he said, leading the way and changing the subject.

  Without hesitation, he began to pull out drug paraphernalia from his multi-pocketed shorts. Andi was amazed to see him so comfortable with the dangerous instruments.

  “I heard that the only reason I was able to go on this trip was because of the last girl that died. I think her name was Courtney,” Andi said, interrupting Zachary momentarily. After a slight pause, he continued with his setup. “I guess I feel a bit guilty. She could be having all this fun. She could be here with you, holding your arm.” Andi batted her eyelashes at the younger boy.

  “She was a fun girl.” He gave her a half grin then returned to his duties.

  “Oh, you knew her?”

  “Uh, yeah, we hung out some at parties, you know, like the other girls at the public school.”

  Zachary became more focused and deliberate, as he tied off his arm. Andi scooted a few inches back and looked around for a potential escape. But she only saw sand dunes and beach vegetation. She could hear the ocean in the background but nothing else. She knew this was her only chance to take the conversation further, yet she wasn't about to stick poison in her arm either. Hesitantly, she held out her arm, and he tied it off.

  “You're telling me this is clean shit?” He nodded but focused on the needles, flicking the edge like a medical professional.

  Then she had a thought, a possible excuse not to take the drugs. “Just to let you know I'm not very good in bed if I'm high, so feel free if you want to. I'd rather take it once I've sent you to the moon and back.” She ran her hand up his thigh.

  She untied the band as he nodded.

  More motivated than ever, he stuck the needle in his arm. Immediately, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell over to his side. “Fuckin' A. Wow, that guy was right. This is prime shit,” he said, his voice a half-octave higher than normal. “Come over here, Andi. Undo my shorts, get on top of me.”

  She fidgeted with his zipper and touched his chest.

  “Zachary, were you with Courtney the night she died?” she asked simply.

  “Huh? I don't know what you're...” He was so out of it that he couldn't finish the thought.

  “Did you give the drugs to Courtney the night she died?”

  “What? She was a good lay, especially after we shot up. Now get on top of me, damn it,” he said, slurring his words.

  “Zachary, I know you want me. I want you too,” she whispered in his ear, causing him to giggle like a young child.

  She exhaled and decided to swing for the fences.

  “Did you shoot up Courtney the night she died and then drop her off at the hospital?”

  “Who else do you think did it, Jesus fuckin' Christ? Of course I did it. I didn't want her to die though. I dropped her off at the hospital,” he said, his voice growing somewhat agitated, but still in a daze.

  “Why'd you do it, Zachary?”

  “I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it.” His eyes swelled, and his face contorted. “Now just get on top of me.”

  Andi didn't move a muscle. Gusts of wind whipped sand against her face. She was stunned she'd been able to entrap the teenager into admitting his role in Courtney's death.

  Without warning, Zachary reached up and backhanded her across the face.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  I tilted my neck back and emptied the last of the water bottle, careful that I kept an eye on the terrain of the dirt road. Thus far, we'd only seen a couple of vehicles traversing the treacherous path, trying to avoid the multitude of crater-like potholes and enormous boulders. The sun had set behind the thick, tall trees, forcing us to stay close to our kidnapper guide, Benicio. We hiked another quarter mile or so, then turned right and walked about fifty yards through an overgrown path.

  “Estamos aquí,” said Benicio. “We're here.”

  He extended his arm, almost like he was a maître d' at a restaurant escorting us to one of the nicer tables. Instead, in between the lush foliage, we paused and saw a large structure, covered with vines. It was mostly made out of warped wood with holes and gaps everywhere.

  Benicio asked Arthur to unlatch the door. Arthur opened it slightly but only saw darkness. He then looked back at Bencio, who wrinkled his eyes, apparently puzzled by the obscurity.

  “Wait, I hear something,” I said out loud. None of us moved, including Benicio, oddly. It was a muffled sound, but I couldn't make it out. I looked at Francisco, whose concerned expression matched mine. Arthur, eager to find and hold his Trudy, entered without prudence.

  “Trudy, Trudy, are you here?” Arthur took two steps into the dark edifice. The muffled sound became more pronounced but was still a distance away. Francisco and I both moved forward cautiously. I held my aching left forearm tight against my chest, bracing for a major impact.

  “Luis, you are here, si?” said Benicio from behind us. He now was holding up a lighter which only provided light about five feet in front of us. We paused. The sounds became more audible, like a person's voice grunting, shifting, even some squeaking. Without warning, a single light popped on at the other end of the deep, rectangular-shaped garage. It was Trudy—without a stitch of clothing on her. Holy shit. Her hands and feet were tied to some type of bed, and she was gagged. A sinewy man was standing over her, wearing only his underwear.

  “Gringos, it's about time you made it,” he said, shaking a gun in our direction. He had a disturbed look on his face. “You see what I've been tasting the last few weeks? Well, I thought I needed one more taste before, unfortunately, we have to do away with you. All of you.”

  “My dear God, Trudy!” Arthur yelled out, taking a step forward before being halted by the thin man waving his gun.

  I looked back at Benicio, who appeared angry but not shocked. I glanced downward and saw he also had a gun, resting next to his beefy leg. We locked eyes. Francisco turned back to see the same thing seconds later. We were trapped. It was now apparent that Benicio and Luis had planned to lead us to this rundown garage and kill us. All breath was sucked out of my body. I had naively convinced myself we wouldn't be in harm's way. And I now realized my ignorance would lead to us being killed.

  “Luis, what the hell are you doing, you stupid little prick?” Benicio narrowed his eyes and took two steps toward the distasteful scene.

  “You stay back too, Benicio. I'm going to screw this Americana one more time, and all of you can watch,” he said, laughing like a wild animal. He snorted through his nose a couple of times.

  I could see the horror on Trudy's face, which appeared swollen, like she'd been punched. It was
partially black and blue. I stared at Trudy's eyes, which were begging for a savior.

  Arthur started to break down, crying, reaching for Trudy, as I, with my one good arm, and Francisco, both held him back. Yelling ensued. The thin man, Luis, in his underwear, screamed back at an emotional Arthur. Benicio, in Spanish, yelled at Luis. We tried to calm Arthur. It was a nightmare....a chaotic, repulsive scene, bartering over this naked, traumatized, innocent woman. Luis lowered his underwear and waddled towards Trudy, who was desperately struggling to wiggle out of the knotted ropes. Behind us, Benicio paced, rubbed his nose, appearing unsure what he should do.

  Just as I turned back to Trudy, a gunshot whizzed past my face, causing my stomach to leap into my throat. We ducked and snapped our heads back to look at Benicio, then over to Luis, injured and down on his knees. The thin man spit fumes at Benicio, berating him with Spanish curse words. Suddenly, a silver streak flew by my ear and came smashing down on Benicio's right hand. He let out an agonizing, high-pitched scream, and the motion caused his gun to fire again. Instantly, the single light in the garage vanished. More gunshots followed, and we hit the dirt. My heart raced, but I kept one arm on Arthur.

  Seconds later, my ears heard cathedral bells, but the rest of the violent sounds had ceased. But for how long?

  “Francisco, you there? Arthur, how about you?” I said, breathing heavily but lying chest down, unable to see anything other than my hand in front of my face.

  “I'm here, I'm okay,” Arthur quickly replied. Francisco didn't respond. I could only hear multiple voices moaning in the darkness.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Feet shuffled on the dirt surface. Agonizing groans permeated through the squalid garage. Not able to see, I was as still as a squirrel, waiting for light, or something to provoke a response. Suddenly, two lights flickered near Trudy's bed, then darkness again. I thought I saw a person moving, but I wasn't sure. The shuffling became more prominent, moving closer to me. I think someone stepped over me. The garage door opened and someone ran out. But who?

  I couldn't wait any longer. Using as little of my left arm as possible, I crawled slowly, first beyond Arthur, telling him to stay put. I got to Francisco, now able to see the outlines of images two to three feet in front of me. He was unresponsive, but I think I felt a slight pulse. The machete was still clutched in his right hand. I uncurled his fingers from the grip and took ownership. It felt heavy, and I knew it could do some real damage with the appropriate type of leveraged force behind a swing. I slid in the other direction, unsure how far I'd go until I'd run into something, someone.

  I slithered over something that felt like a stone. I grabbed it. No, not a stone, a lighter. Had Benicio dropped it? I didn't know, but if it was the one that had been in Benicio's hand earlier, I knew it worked. I also knew I couldn't turn it on until absolutely necessary.

  I paused, even holding my breath, to make sure I was hearing every audible noise. Only some grunts and groans, but they were dissipating. Seconds later, my head rammed directly into the metal bed frame. I rose to my feet, hoping, praying a gunshot wouldn't be fired. I knew the ropes were tied to the frame, but I needed light to know the exact location of the ropes. I could feel the bed shaking slightly. I gave myself a count of three...then flicked on the lighter and used three powerful swings to sever the ropes. Trudy rolled off the bed and onto the ground. Quickly leaning down and giving the lighter a quick flick, I could see Trudy was in great pain, her face contorted and...well, a mess. I saw a flash of another person too. Luis.

  I lifted the heavy machete in one hand, and with more adrenaline flowing through my body now, I quickly flicked the lighter again with my other hand, preparing to land a direct shot to Luis' body. But at the last second, I held back. He was curled up in a fetal position, blood gushing from his shoulder. He'd been the one moaning, most likely. He turned his head slightly toward me, then back to the ground. He wasn't going anywhere, I thought. He will die in this filthy garage, bleeding to death. I turned away. I took Trudy's arm and walked gingerly back to the door, using the lighter as a guide. I found Arthur, and he and I dragged Francisco's body out of the garage, where a full moon now provided more constant light. Arthur and Trudy began hugging, crying, while I tended to Francisco. I looked around and saw no one.

  “Dear God, you're alive, you're alive!” Arthur said over and over again, holding Trudy's face and her naked body. She tried to speak, but her sobbing interrupted any possible verbal response. Distracted momentarily by the unforgettable reunion, I felt something hitting my knee. Francisco was moving his arm.

  Arthur still had water left in his bottle, so we poured it into Francisco's mouth. He became more lucid then held his hand up to his head. I hadn't noticed the bleeding until then.

  “Did you get shot in the head, Francisco?” I asked.

  “I think it just grazed me, unless you see a bigger hole than I feel,” he said sarcastically.

  I looked back at Arthur, and the three of us let out grateful sighs amidst half smiles.

  “Did you rescue Trudy?”

  “No, Francisco, you did. You saved all of our lives.”

  Trudy buried her head in Arthur's chest, her emotions gushing from infinite relief.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Andi touched her lip and saw blood on her fingertip. She was a workout fiend, but likely not strong enough to fend off Zachary if the fight continued, especially someone so out of control because of the toxins coursing through his veins.

  “You ask too many questions. Who the hell do you think you are?” Zachary said, his voice fumbling the last couple of words.

  “Zachary, I'm your friend and—” Zachary grabbed Andi's shoulders and shook her violently, then slapped her across the face again.

  “I don't have a true friend in my life. You tricked me to say things that I should have never said,” he screamed, then put his hands to his head and yelled out. “Ahhh!”

  Andi tried desperately to lower his level of agitation, hopeful she could find a peaceful path to escape the scene.

  “Zachary, let's walk back to the party, get a beer, and just chill out,” she said in her most pleasant voice, though her pulse raced under her skin.

  She tried to get a read on him, his mood, but it changed every few seconds, frightening her more. He rolled to the left and dropped his head in his hands, talking to himself. Slowly, she rose to her feet, looking at him as she took one step to freedom, then another. Suddenly, he turned and lunged at her legs, buckling her knees and knocking her down next to his makeshift drug station. She struggled to get back on her knees and crawl away, but he became more relentless, punching her in both kidneys as she lay on her back.

  “Please stop!” she yelled out in vain. He growled with rage and flipped her over. He tried to unbutton her shorts, but she slapped him away. Then he tried to paw at her breasts. She reached to grab his wrists, but he twisted away and threw a solid punch directly at her mouth. Thinking she was either going to be raped and or beaten to a pulp, she turned and saw the one remaining needle—initially meant for her arm—lying on the sand. He now had his hands around her throat. She grabbed the needle and rammed it into his neck. He fell to one side and yelled out.

  Finally able to jump to her feet, Andi ran three steps, then turned and saw him on the sand, rocking left and right, holding his neck, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Blood seeped through his fingers. She went back and grabbed her purse, which contained the verbal evidence of him admitting to killing Courtney. Then she ran off to find someone to call an ambulance for the teenage boy who might be dying from another drug overdose.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  The unbearable pain could hardly be contained. If he looked at it, or even worse, jogged a few steps, it nearly made him vomit. Still, Benicio hadn't stopped moving since rushing out of the garage with the gray backpack, believing he held the golden parachute that would liberate him from all his stress and anxiety. He stopped to catch his breath, praying the throbbin
g would subside. He took a quick glance at his wounds. His right forefinger had a deep cut down to the bone. His thumb was all but gone, dangling, held on by no more than a tendon or loose skin. Blood dripped onto his grubby feet.

  It would be dawn in a couple of hours. If he could continue his path moving north out of town, at daybreak he'd have more options to finally consume water and food. He knew, however, he'd die if he didn't find some way to stop the blood flow. The excruciating pain could only be relieved by some of the potent shit—chiba chiba, straight from Colombia. He closed his eyes and imagined taking a long drag.

  Burning pains slammed his mind back into reality. A pool of blood had formed around his feet. Weary from being up for more hours than he could count, he took a deep breath, knowing the pause could only be a temporary one—he had to keep moving. Stealing money from a drug cartel leader would make him famous for all the wrong reasons. The tattooed man with silver-tipped boots would show no mercy. Would Pedro accept a bribe to leave him alone and let him move on? Money, after all, dictated everyone's loyalties. As Enrique's new chief security officer, Pedro likely wouldn't fall prey to the temptation of a quick fix. Benicio knew the Sangre cartel's long-term rewards far outweighed the small pittance he had at his disposal.

  Benicio trudged forward, but each step became an enormous task. The ground appeared uneven. He looked skyward and tree branches spun left then right. He blinked his eyes and took a few more steps, finding himself at the edge of a bridge, the same one he and Luis had carried Trudy across the night this entire nightmare began.

  All he wanted—all he'd ever wanted—was money and, with that, the proper amount of respect, like the tourists and rich bitches sailing around in their million-dollar yachts. He envisioned captaining his own vessel, powering through the choppy sea as the ocean winds sprayed salty water across his face. Lost in his own thoughts, he briefly smiled. Money...it would bring so many comforts he couldn't count. He could have all of that, if he could only escape to a place where he could start over.