The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three)

by Leo Romero

  These putas will pay for this, he thought to himself as he made his way down another shit-infested tunnel. Once he was out of this, the Inner Circle would have to hear of this outrage and act accordingly. Don Vasquez had to fulfill his duty of protecting him, just like he had to for all the cartel bosses in Mexico. They couldn’t be threatened in this way; it was bad for business. They were supposed to be in control now; the Chaos Order had finally moved from the shadows and become the new rulers of Latin America, pushing back officialdom. They were the new kings, guided by the Unholy Mother. They shouldn’t have their homes invaded by scum like this.

  As his feet splashed through brown water, he suddenly remembered that other gringo Chichi brought before him; el Sanguinario. A horrible realization hit him: maybe that gringo was the cause of all this. Maybe not directly, but because he was a bad omen. Maybe his arrival wasn’t to fulfill the prophecy of pushing the Chaos Order to global victory. Maybe the prophecy had been interpreted wrong. The gringo was really here to bring a bigger army of gringos to destroy them; the gringo in the red flowery shirt was indeed el Sanguinario, but his real purpose was to act as the opposing force to the Unholy Mother. He was the one who’d bring them down, destroy them from within.

  Víbora shook his head. That stupid old monk, Papa Esqueleto, had got it all wrong; the idiot had brought the Angel of Death to their doors and invited her into their business, told her to make herself welcome. Víbora hated to think what kind of destruction that gringo was bringing them at that very moment.

  Ach, it wasn’t time to think about things like that. At this moment he just had to lose the two assholes behind him, then get to the safe house and wait there until darkness. Then, strike back. Hard.

  He splashed through more sewage and into a new tunnel where four or five others branched off. He scanned them, unaware of where any of them would lead him. He picked one and jumped into its mouth.

  “Stop!” the bigger of the two assholes shouted from behind.

  Víbora had a brief look over his shoulder; the big asshole was aiming his gun.

  Víbora turned back and ran hard, avoiding the shafts of light falling from the grating in the ceiling like they were booby traps. In doing so, he slipped, his hands falling in the mucky water. But it wasn’t the shit now on his robe that bothered him, it was the advantage he’d lost from stumbling. By the time he got upright again, the two pendejos were rounding the corner.

  Víbora had no other choice; he had to make a sharp turn into the nearest tunnel otherwise they’d get clear shots at him. Just as he cut into the new tunnel, gunfire erupted. Panic fizzed through his mind. He spun his head back, his eyes fixed on the wall the bullets hit. He watched the ensuing cloud dust dissipate, realizing it could easily have been his head there. The knock would have thrown him off his stride, giving them enough time to catch him.

  Just get away from them, he urged himself.

  Now, in the new tunnel, he turned back to see where he was heading.

  His eyes bulged; he gasped in horror.

  Harsh light filled the end of the tunnel like spilled paint. Víbora came to a screeching halt; he stared at that nasty sunlight in terror.

  Puta!

  He’d taken a wrong turning; the tunnel led out into the open where the sewage water joined a small stream. If he went further, he’d be burned to a crisp by the intense Mexican sun.

  His eyeballs whirled, seeking an exit. The only way out of the tunnel was forward. And that way led to his death.

  A sound made him spin back. The two assholes were now in the tunnel with him. It was a choice; face them or the light.

  They both came to a stop. The bigger puto laid eyes on the light. A grin spread across his face.

  The smaller asshole took a moment to catch his breath. He then pointed at Víbora. “Give it up, Snakeface!” he said. “We got you cornered.”

  Víbora turned from the light to face them. His bulging eyes gleamed with terror. Dom nodded; it was either go into the fire, or battle past the two guys ahead of him. Víbora took a peek over his shoulder at the sunlight spread all over the end of the tunnel. He whipped back around, a malevolent snarl now carved into his face. Without hesitation, he roared toward them like a wild animal, his feet splashing through the shit-water, his robe flowing behind him like a giant wing.

  Dom reacted; he snapped up his dart gun and went to pull the trigger. But, Rafa got there first; he let rip on Víbora with his AK-47, pummeling him with bullets. The force stopped Víbora dead in his tracks, neutering his lunge. He flailed back, his body juddering under the impact as it soaked up the bullets like it was made of clay.

  Rafa wasn’t deterred; he advanced on Víbora, his trigger finger pulsing, the muzzle of his AK spitting bullets like it was a hose. Dom watched in stunned bemusement as the bullets appeared to vanish inside Víbora’s chest and stomach like they were chocolate chips pushed into cookie dough; it was a surreal spectacle, like nothing real. The bastard wasn’t dying, but the impact was forcing him to stagger back toward the end of the tunnel.

  Rafa kept up the pressure; he took a moment to shove another magazine into his rifle and let off relentless fire. He took quick steps forward, advancing on Víbora, ushering him back to the rear of the tunnel.

  “Puta!” Rafa screamed above the noise of his AK-47. He pushed on, the muscles in his forearm flexing, while Víbora’s arms flailed on the air, his stomach and chest dimpling like a golf ball. The end of the tunnel was fast approaching; Víbora teetered on the brink, his feet now on the edge of shadow. Rafa didn’t let up. He roared, closing the gap between them. Víbora had a moment to scream before he lost his balance; he flew back through the air, breaching the darkness and falling into the light.

  A shriek of anguish bolted from his mouth as he crashed into the connecting stream outside the sewer, filthy water splashing up. Rafa finally released his trigger finger and watched on in anticipation, Dom joining him. Víbora thrashed and writhed within the stream of sewage like a caged monkey. The scorching sun bathed him whole, soaking him in its sublime rays, its power amplified by the rancid water, which was heating up at a rapid rate alongside Víbora’s burning body.

  Víbora’s violent movements were accompanied by hellish screeches that split the serene ambience, the noise like feral alley cats fighting for their lives. The inhuman wail became gargled once sewage water spilled into his mouth, freeing them from its merciless grip.

  Dom caught his breath and watched on agape. He’d seen the reaction of vamps in the sun twice; his father and Leviah. Both had caught fire. But, with Víbora enveloped in water, that couldn’t happen. Instead, he boiled to death within the sewage. The nasty water bubbled with intense ferocity to the point where Víbora’s skin began to peel away, exposing rotten flesh. A fetid stench of putrefied meat cooked in sewage water hit Dom’s nostrils and he turned to the side to gag, his eyes watering.

  Oh man, that’s just nasty!

  He turned his head back, unable to stop watching. Víbora continued to thrash around in the muck, screeching in agony like a tormented coyote. His exposed flesh simmered in the water, becoming rubbery. His eyeballs had already broiled in his head, turning bone-white. As the relentless sun and water combo stripped the toughened flesh from his bones, his eyeballs popped and melted like marshmallows on an open fire; small, gooey globules ran down into the water where they liquefied.

  The screeching cut off once his tongue and cheeks dissolved. His uncovered skull bobbed on the water like a dinghy, the rest of his skeleton buoying and squirming in a frenetic dance as it stewed, the bones getting whiter all the time as if they’d been doused in bleach. They softened under the intense heat, soon melting into the muck like warm ice cubes, the whole noxious mess melding together to form a foaming, putrid dark-green ooze.

  Dom grimaced at the sight.

  The filthy water then settled, small bubbles popping on its surface as it swished from side-to-side in lazy arcs. It eventually came to rest where it continued to flow past
the tunnel, taking the liquid remains of Víbora along with it. It appeared calm, innocent like it wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  Everything then went quiet.

  Dom puffed his cheeks. “Man, that was pretty gruesome.”

  Rafa blew away the smoke from the muzzle of his AK. “First time a gun has killed a vampire, huh, amigo?”

  Dom sent him a wry smile.

  Rafa cackled like a maniac; he gave Dom a hearty pat on the back, almost knocking him into the filthy water to join Víbora. “We did it, hombre!” Rafa said, crossing himself and pointing to the ceiling. “We killed the bastard!” He turned and spat in the frothing section of slime-green water.

  Dom gazed down at the putrid water and nodded. Yeah, they did it! Now, all they had to do was somehow find a way back through the sewers to Castillo Serpiente.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  They didn’t even bother trying to find their way back via the sewer tunnels. Instead, they stepped through the stream that took Víbora and climbed up the bank. They found themselves on the edges of a small town, where the locals stared at the massive guy with the AK-47 in trepidation. When Rafa explained to them that they’d just taken out the head of the local cartel, their eyes flashed with joy. Word spread like fire, and soon, people flooded the streets to find out if the rumors were true.

  Dom and Rafa were whisked off to the town center where they were questioned and praised. Dom stood in the searing heat, filthy, dirty and sweaty. But that didn’t stop the women and even the men from kissing and hugging him. All the while they spoke to him in a language he didn’t understand. He just stood there nodding and grinning like an idiot. At that moment, he could care less. He was lapping up the love.

  Soon, they were swamped by people. A hot señorita came over to give him a kiss. Dom raised his eyebrows and grinned.

  This hero stuff does reward after all. About time.

  He went to move in to kiss her, when an old woman with no teeth jumped in ahead of her. She pinched Dom’s cheek and pulled him in toward her. “Gracias,” she said before planting a big kiss on his lips.

  Dom winced. “It’s okay, señora,” he said, trying his best to pull away from her. The old woman hobbled away, a big smile on her face. Dom looked for the younger girl, but she was gone. He cursed his luck.

  Rafa then turned to face him; he was being manhandled, people pulling at his clothes. “They say thank you, hombre,” he informed Dom.

  Dom wiped his lips. “Yeah, I realized.” He put on a grin and carried on nodding as the cacophony continued.

  More and more people gathered around and began jumping and dancing on the street once the news hit them.

  “These people have been oppressed by Los Verdugos for too long,” Rafa said, shaking multiple hands at once. “Now, they’re free. Estas libre!” he shouted.

  Loud cheers rang out around them.

  Dom grinned; elation was blooming inside him. Risking his life was producing rewards; adulation, praise. Witnessing the genuine joy on the faces of the locals was worth the pain, the hurt, the danger. Job satisfaction to the nth degree. This was what he signed up with Vincent for; moments like these, genuine moments of human joy and happiness after defeating an oppressive enemy. It was about freedom; freeing the human population from a parasite. And it felt good to be the one to do it. Frickin’ good. Like he had a purpose, like he was actually someone. It was all worth it, and that moment crystallized it for him.

  Tears threatened to jump out of his eyes, but he managed to hold them back; he didn’t wanna look like a chump. Instead he joined in with the singing and dancing, even though he didn’t know the words or the moves. They all jumped on the spot in unison like soccer fans, chanting ‘libre’ over and over like a mantra.

  When things died down, Rafa negotiated a ride back to Castillo Serpiente. He ordered the older guys to go and occupy the villa so no more cartel members could go there and hide out or set up again. As he spoke, he pointed up the hill at Castillo Serpiente, visible from the town center. It was an ivory tower, staring down at them all.

  Now, it was over. Los Verdugos had been dismantled. The farmers and local townspeople were free.

  Dom and Rafa took their ride back up to Castillo Serpiente in the rear of a truck; they were cheered like celebrities as they passed through the streets. Dom put on his shades, sat back, and lapped it up, waving to them like he was the Queen of England.

  They pulled up outside the villa grounds and the half-demolished outer wall where other autodefensa guys were securing the area. “El Víbora está muerto!” Rafa declared as he jumped off the truck. The news was greeted with cheers. Dom got off the truck and looked around. The autodefensa were patrolling the place, totally in control. Some were carrying out the dead bodies of their comrades, the ones who didn’t make it. Both Rafa and Dom watched them with solemn eyes, Rafa crossing himself. Dom then noticed the line of surviving cartel thugs over on the right; they were on their knees, guns pointed their way.

  “What’s gonna happen to them?” Dom asked Rafa.

  Rafa shrugged. “We don’t know yet. Maybe put them in jail. Maybe kill them.”

  “Kill them?” Dom asked, his voice laced with surprise.

  “Of course, amigo. They’re dangerous criminals. They’ve killed people; relatives of ours. They deserve to die.”

  Dom let out a long breath. Vigilante justice. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if it was such a hot idea. There was no judge or jury here, only the justice of the gun. He took in all the angry faces around him; one of the Sagrada Família guys spat at the cartel thugs, whilst throwing him all kinds of abuse in Spanish. The cartel guys were wide-eyed with fear, their limbs trembling. Dom kinda felt bad for them. Then he remembered being shot at by some of those assholes and the sensation melted away like Víbora in that river of sewage. If the autodefensa did end up executing these guys, would it really be a loss? The image of that thug Dom dropped off the side of the building then popped into his head.

  “You killed me, didn’tcha?” he said before he fell to his doom. Dom watched him go, watched him—

  “Dom!”

  Dom started, snapping out of his daydream.

  “Rafa!”

  The girls came running out of the villa grounds, their eyes wide with excitement. Dom and Rafa both faced them like heroes, their arms open and their chests puffed out. Trixie shot into Dom’s arms and he pulled her in tight; Alicia into Rafa’s. Dom closed his eyes as he rubbed her back.

  “We didn’t know what happened to you,” Trixie said, her voice full of relief. She then pulled back, her nose twitching. “You smell terrible, Dom,” she stated.

  Dom’s grin drooped. “Thanks, Trix. I have just been chasing a vampire cartel boss through the sewers of Tijuana, you know.”

  “And?”

  Rafa let go of Alicia; he ran a hand across his neck and made a croaking sound.

  “You killed him?” Alicia asked.

  “He got cooked,” Dom stated with a grim grin on his face.

  Alicia nodded slow, her mouth a slit. She muttered something, crossed herself, then pointed up to the sky. Dom guessed she was saying a small prayer for Lionel. He got his revenge, and so did Alicia.

  “Nice one, Dom!” Trixie said, giving him a wicked smile.

  Dom gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Well, it was easy.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Alicia then took the gun from her shoulder and fired rounds off into the air. “Viva Tijuana!” she shrieked. The others all cheered, some joined Alicia in raising their weapons and firing rounds off into the picture-perfect sky.

  The party was just beginning and a new dawn for Tijuana was about to get underway. There was a sudden sense of hope in the air, of a newfound strength coursing through the veins of Mexico and hopefully the rest of the Americas. The bright, brilliant sun beamed down on them all; the nemesis of the vampire. Its destructor.

  A round of joyful singing then set off, as well as gunfire, the noise reverberating over Tijuana. Do
m looked to Trixie and smiled. Trixie smiled back, resting her head in his chest. They stared out across the sprawl of Tijuana; above it, the flawless sky a beautiful gaseous blue blanket.

  The moment was perfect in its contentment.

  Dom could’ve stayed there forever, just staring out into the beauty with Trixie, but they had more pressing matters to attend to. Magdalena. They needed to find her, and now they’d helped Alicia get her revenge, they’d earned access to Lionel’s notes, which would hopefully lead them right to her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  La Sagrada Família got back to Valle del Paraíso, honking their horns and shooting their rifles into the air for almost the whole journey. There was a joyous party atmosphere going on in the surrounding area. Rafa pulled out a bullhorn from the back of the Humvee he was riding in and shouted victory slogans as they passed through the towns. They were declaring victory against the common foe. People tentatively stepped out of their houses, wondering if what they were hearing could really be true. Once they realized the local cartel had been put to bed, they began cheering and dancing. The parasite that had held down all the citizens of Tijuana had been eliminated. The people were now free of that burden. No longer did they have to pay extortion fees to thugs, no longer did they have to witness their loved ones decapitated and their bodies left to rot in the sun. They were free. La Sagrada Família, the people’s army, had gone to war and was victorious. Now, the autodefensa would spread across Mexico, wiping clean the infection of the Chaos Order cartels. Then, onto South America to strike at the heart of their operation. One village, one state, one country at a time, until they were all wiped out.

  Witnessing the joy on the faces of the oppressed people brought a tear to Dom’s eye; these people had suffered for too long at the hands of the Order. Retribution was long overdue. Even Trixie managed a smile on seeing the happiness they’d helped bring to Tijuana. But, they had to put all that to the side; they were here on business, they had a mission to accomplish. Vanquish Magdalena.