• • •
Closing on the compound at a high rate of speed, two Mexican Army helicopters skimmed low across the desert floor. One was a large transport helicopter carrying a team of Mexican Army special forces commandos; the other was a smaller gunship.
“Helo one-niner, this is little bird. Over.”
“Roger, little bird. Over.”
“Bring it in fast and shallow. Put her down in the courtyard between the two main structures. I’ll fly high cover with the sniper team. Over.”
“Roger, little bird. Going in now.”
• • •
“Are you sure we don’t have a signal?” General X-Ray asked. “I’m pretty sure we had one before. Maybe a whistle or something?”
“Naw,” said Private Tango. “The whistle meant retreat, or maybe chow time. I can’t rightly remember.”
“Was it a hoot owl?” asked Fire Team Leader Alpha.
“No, we gave up on that one. Remember, nobody could get it right,” replied Fire Team Leader Charlie. “It always sounded like the owl was dying.”
“Do we have any more signal flares?”
“Nope,” said Fire Team Leader Bravo. “We used them up at your birthday party.”
“Yes, I remember,” said the General. “Damn near burned down the HQ that night.”
“Yeah, but it was a hell of a party, sir,” Private Tango added. “When Zulu popped out of that cake and started firing off flares, it looked like the Fourth of July.”
“Only problem was that we were inside at the time,” Fire Team Leader Charlie said. “I’ll never forget when the town’s volunteer fire department showed up, all wearing tuxedos.”
“Yep, they sure was pissed off about being called away from their fire chief’s wedding,” Private Tango said.
“Dang it, men, stop reminiscing. We’ve got to come up with a signal, or we’ll be here all night. The thing about Foxtrot is that he never does anything without being told first. Decent trooper, but the boy has all the initiative of a wet turd.” All of a sudden, a huge roar passed overhead. General X-Ray and his men lay prone on the ground as the dry grass around them blew violently back and forth. A high-powered spotlight from above cut through the darkness like a laser, illuminating the courtyard. The guard by the barn dropped his cigarette and began firing wildly at the large helicopter, which bounced and skidded to a halt in the middle of the compound. The guard took cover inside the barn doors and continued to fire blindly from around the corner. Two more guards from inside the barn joined him. Army troops poured out from both sides of the chopper and began to set up a perimeter.
“Signal! Signal!” General X-Ray shouted as he jumped to his feet and began waving his arms over his head in Private Foxtrot’s general direction. “On your feet, men! Signal! Signal!” His men leapt up and began waving their arms with him.
• • •
Private Foxtrot ducked his head as gunfire exploded around him. Armed men began to stream out the farmhouse and fire at the helicopter in the courtyard.
“Holy crap,” he said. Striking a match and lighting the fuse to the stick of dynamite, the private went to throw it around the corner. In his haste, he didn’t reach far enough around the corner. It hit the side of barn and bounced back at his feet. The private dove on the sizzling stick of explosives. The hissing fuse burned his hand as he tried to pick it up. When he dropped the dynamite, it landed right in front of his face. From his belly, Private Foxtrot tried to blow out the fuse. It didn’t work. The fuse had already burned halfway down. Scrambling to his feet, he made a break across the open compound and sprinted toward the General and the rest of the men. Halfway across the courtyard, he spotted General X-Ray jumping up and down and waving his hands back and forth.
Oh, Jesus, he thought to himself, he wants me to go back. Private Foxtrot turned around and raced back for the still-fizzing stick of dynamite, dodging bullets the whole way. When he reached the explosive, the fuse was almost burnt to the end.
“The hell with this!” Private Foxtrot screamed as he turned around again and ran. “I never wanted to be in a militia anyway!” Two strides later, an enormous explosion rocked the compound. The force of the blast lifted Private Foxtrot off his feet and threw him in the air. Landing face first in the dirt, he skidded several feet before coming to rest with the trail of his landing stretching out behind him in the dirt.
“Man down!” General X-Ray cried. “Fire Team Bravo, go get him! Everyone else, concentrate your fire on the barn.”
• • •
In the dark room beneath the farmhouse, El Barquero woke to the sound of the dynamite explosion. Feeling the knife still in his hands, he began to cut himself free. He remembered Cesar giving it to him, but then things went black. It didn’t take long for him to cut himself free. As he rose to reach the door, a meek voice called out.
“Like, help, man.”
Barquero turned on the light. Across the room, he saw the two men looking at him plaintively. Barquero turned toward the door and then stopped. He turned back around and cut the two men loose. Ziggy kept his eyes shut the entire time. The sight of a naked, blood-covered man twice his size holding a knife was too much for his fragile nature.
“Get out of here. You’re on your own.” Barquero spun around and went to the door. It was locked. Taking a few steps back, he lowered his powerful shoulder and drove it as hard as he could into the middle of the door. It shattered. Reaching through the hole, he released the lock on the far side. Pushing what remained of it open, he ran down the hall toward a set of stairs.
“I’m with him,” said Private Zulu as he sprinted out of the room. Ziggy didn’t move. He was too scared. The sound of automatic weapon fire snapped him back.
“Like, wait for me,” Ziggy said as he crept out of the room.
• • •
At the sound of the explosion, the Padre’s dinner guests immediately hid under the heavy table, all except the Padre, Carnicero, and Cesar.
“Carnicero!” the Padre roared. “Get the men!” Carnicero ran from the room, shouting instructions. “The rest of you, follow me. There is a safe room.” The Padre led the dinner party out of the long dining room and down a hall to the left. Cesar lagged behind. When he exited the room, he went to the right.
• • •
El Barquero flew up the stairs two at a time. Turning a corner, he ran face first into one of the Padre’s soldiers. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he viciously head-butted the man. The man went limp in his arms. Barquero stripped the man of his pants and put them on. They barely fit, but unfortunately the man’s boots didn’t. Barquero froze; the sound of footsteps from above echoed down the staircase. He positioned himself. Just as the man came around the corner, he grabbed him by the throat.
“No,” Cesar hissed as Barquero’s hands clasped around his neck. Barquero continued to squeeze for a second more, then let go him. “So this was your idea of a good plan?” Cesar asked as he tried to catch his breath.
“It was the only way for me to get close to the Padre. You knew that. Where is he?”
“Upstairs. Jesus, you look like shit, man. Are you okay?”
“I wouldn’t look this way if you had kept up your end of the deal. What took you so long? This was supposed to go down earlier.”
“A dinner meeting with the Padre and some of his top people. I made the decision to wait until we could get them all. Seriously. Are you okay?”
“You made the decision? I’m fine, but waiting wasn’t part of the plan,” Barquero said as he picked up an assault rifle and pistol from the unconscious cartel soldier at his feet. He gave the rifle to Cesar. “Show me where the Padre is.”
“Can I come?” Private Zulu asked from the bottom of the stairs. Cesar and Barquero turned, and both pointed their weapons at him.
“He’s not one of them.” Barquero lowered his pistol.
“Find cover,” Cesar said. “Help is outside. When this is over, they’ll come to get you.”
�
� • •
At the first sound of fighting, Avery, Esmeralda, and El Coyote headed through the kitchen into the sprawling farmhouse. Esmeralda unloaded her massive pistol into two cartel soldiers who burst into the room. El Coyote picked up a third and smashed his head into a wall until he stopped moving. Avery followed the two into the main area of the house. Moving from room to room, they searched for Ziggy and Private Zulu. Bullets from outside slammed through a large plate-glass window, sending all three to the ground. They were pinned down for several minutes.
“Check that room over there,” El Coyote said as he fired at a cartel gunman down the hall. Avery, more than glad to get out of the massive shooting gallery that the compound had turned into, threw open the heavy doors covered in murals. Inside, the room was filled with artifacts and weapons. He spotted a heavy wooden desk. Just the place to let this little kerfuffle work itself out, Avery thought. Climbing underneath the desk, he noticed a shiny new laptop computer sitting on top of it. Realizing the computer was way better than the one he owned, he pulled it down under the desk with him. Of course it was password protected, but Avery enjoyed hacking into other people’s computers the way some people enjoy working on crossword puzzles.
• • •
“Keep pouring on the fire!” General X-Ray encouraged his men. “Fire Team Leader! I’m still waiting for that status report on the wounded.”
“I think he’s going to be fine, General,” said Fire Team Leader Bravo. “Hopefully it’s just a concussion.”
“Well, I hope he doesn’t expect me to put him up for a battlefield commendation. Lose a limb, maybe, but not for a concussion.” A blinding light from above suddenly illuminated STRAC-BOM’s position. Violent winds buffeted the men as the whining of the helicopter’s engine and rotors bit through the air.
“This is the Mexican Army! Put down your weapons and place your hands on your heads. I repeat, this is the Mexican Army. Put down your weapons and place your hands on your heads, or we will open fire.”
“He’s bluffing, men. Hold your ground!” the General shouted to his men. A sniper from the helicopter fired a round over the top of General X-Ray’s head. “On the other hand…lay ’em down easy, boys. They’ve got us surrounded…again…shit.”
• • •
“Where are the rest of our damn men?” the Padre asked.
“Our communication network is down,” Carnicero said. “We can’t reach them to coordinate anything, but we’re pushing the soldiers back.”
“You’ve got to get me to the tunnel in the barn!” the Padre yelled at Carnicero.
“We’ve driven them back from the courtyard. I think I can get you there. What about the people in the safe room?”
“I don’t give a damn about them. Leave them. Just get me out of here!”
“I promise, Padre. All you men,” Carnicero yelled to his cartel gunmen, “on the count of three, fire everything you have. Give us cover until we can get the Padre to the tunnel. Padre, are you ready?” He looked at his savior, his father.
“Yes, my son.”
“Then stay down and follow me. Men! Do it now!” Carnicero’s men unleashed a hail of automatic weapons fire.
• • •
“Keep watching that door!” El Coyote yelled to Esmeralda as he reloaded his rifle. A few seconds later, El Coyote heard the massive boom of her long pistol.
“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” Private Zulu cried out as he stuck his head into the room.
“Get down!” Esmeralda yelled over the din of gunfire as the wall behind the private exploded with bullet holes. Zulu hit the deck and crawled on his belly to Esmeralda. Reaching her, he grabbed her leg and hung on for dear life. “Get off me! And stop looking up my skirt!”
• • •
Barquero and Cesar exited the front of the farmhouse. Quickly surveying the scene, Cesar could see that his men had been driven back to the north, near the fence close to a group of men prone on the ground with their hands on their heads.
“Where the hell are the ground troops?”
“There he is,” Barquero seethed as he saw the Padre and Carnicero sprinting across the open courtyard toward the barn. He took to one knee and fired his pistol until it was empty. He missed. He dropped the pistol. Halfway to the barn, Carnicero threw a grenade into the transport helicopter. Just as he and the Padre reached the barn doors, it exploded in flames. Cesar signaled to his men.
“Advance on the barn and the farmhouse,” he yelled. “We have to drive them back with everything we have.”
“Yes, Colonel,” one of his soldiers replied.
• • •
Ziggy slowly climbed to the top of the stairs, and got down on his belly and slithered through the main floor of the farmhouse. He cringed at the deafening gunfire and explosions. Bullets ripped through the wall in front of him and smashed out a window behind him. Crawling through the broken glass, he launched himself out the window. Bleeding from his knees, Ziggy looked up into the night sky as he pulled himself up. A sharp beam of light pierced the sky in a weaving pattern. Another explosion rocked the night as more gunfire erupted.
“Like, this is the worst flashback ever, dude.” He clamped his hands tightly over his ears and ran straight into the desert as fast as his sandaled feet could carry him.
• • •
Carnicero pulled the barn doors closed behind him. On the ground, three cartel soldiers lay covered in blood. Two were dead. One was semi-conscious.
“Get to the tunnel,” Carnicero said as he picked up one of the dead men’s AK-47. “I’ll be right behind you.” The Padre ran for a metal door at the far side of the barn. When he entered a code into the key panel on the wall, the door opened, and he disappeared.
“Take me with you,” the wounded man on the barn floor pleaded to Carnicero.
“I can’t. Stay here and hold them off until the Padre gets away.”
“I’m dying,” the bleeding man pleaded.
“Take this.” Carnicero pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to him. “Don’t let go until they come in.” The man started to weep. Carnicero turned his back on him and ran to the truck parked in the barn. Quickly, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled a rocket launcher from one of the crates in the back of the vehicle before following the Padre through the metal door.
• • •
Cesar and his men had pushed the remaining cartel soldiers back. Advancing on their position, the Padre’s men began to lay down their weapons and put their hands behind their heads.
“Breach the barn door!” Cesar ordered two of his men. The men took positions on either side of the doors before one kicked them in. A second later, an explosion threw the body of one of the commandos back out into the courtyard. The other rolled on the ground screaming. “No!” Cesar cried as he unloaded his magazine into the barn. Barquero sprinted barefoot across the yard to the barn. As he reached the doors, he dove inside. Rolling as he came up, he scanned the interior for targets. Everyone was dead, and the Padre was gone. Barquero saw the open metal door at the far end of the barn. He approached it cautiously. Entering the room beyond, he walked through the vast rows of tables filled with drugs being prepared for shipment. A trapdoor in the floor led to some kind of passage. Barquero climbed down the ladder into darkness. At the bottom, a string of electric lights in the ceiling of a low tunnel pointed south of the compound. Stooping down, he slowly followed the sound of footsteps in the distance.
• • •
“General Morales, I have confirmation that the fighting has mostly stopped and that our ground troops are just now arriving on the scene.”
“Is Colonel Beltrán all right, Sergeant?”
“Yes, he’s with his men. They have three casualties and five more wounded, two critical, but the cartel’s resistance has been neutralized. Many killed, only a few prisoners.”
“What about the Padre?”
“No word yet if he is dead or captured.”
“Get medical eva
cuation in there now.”
“Wait a minute… General, look here.”
“What is it?”
“Right there.” The Sergeant pointed to the heat signatures on his monitor. “South of the compound. Two individuals. I have no idea where they came from. They just popped up.”
“Get the chopper over there.”
“General, helo one-niner was destroyed at the landing zone.”
“What about the little bird?”
“Still online.”
“Get it over there now!”
• • •
The Padre pulled the camouflage netting off the Jeep hidden by the exit to the tunnel from the barn. Climbing inside, he searched his keychain for the right key.
“Goddammit! Which one is it?”
“Padre, wait for me,” Carnicero called out as he climbed out of the tunnel, still carrying the ground-to-air missile launcher.
“Hurry up,” the Padre said as he found the right key. The Jeep’s engine struggled to turn over as Carnicero climbed into the back. The Padre tried it again. Just then, a large-caliber bullet tore into the passenger-side seat. From above, blinding light and a loud, whining roar erupted. Carnicero quickly tossed his rifle from off his shoulder. It flipped out of the back of the Jeep. Carnicero lifted the rocket launcher to his shoulder and targeted the small gunship in his target receptacle. Another sniper round impacted just behind the Jeep. Carnicero released the safety and fired. His vision went blind as the light from the missile’s propellant exploded with white light. The projectile streaked into the dark night. A second later, an explosion from above rocked the Jeep. Shards of burning metal rained out of the sky as the helicopter crashed to the ground. Carnicero’s vision slowly began to come back as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Trail of the Chupacabra: An Avery Bartholomew Pendleton Misadventure (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 2) Page 21
