by Rick Potter
Once inside, they were led to chairs behind a table, and offered cigars and their choice of brandy, whiskey, or tequila.
"Tell the boss they've arrived," a guard told another.
Chavez's men raised their voices over the echo of rain slamming the roof overhead. Guards stood their ground, spread throughout the front half of the warehouse. Nervous with anticipation of the gun battle that would soon take place, Sam's group waited against the stacked pile of crates. Maddie remained in the doorway of the room, taking up the rear. She waited for Sam's signal to join them. He heard the buyers had arrived, and wasn't quite sure what to expect. The only thing he did know for certain was, they would soon be discovered missing. "Now," Sam mouthed to her.
In the midst of her first stride, two men appeared from across the warehouse and caught a glimpse of a figure darting behind crates. To get a closer look and confirm what they thought they saw, they strolled closer to the crates. Hearing shuffling sounds the men raised their rifles.
Sam heard their shuffling footsteps getting closer. With his finger on the trigger he knew the second he fired, all hell would break loose. He wished Joseph would have been there for added courage, but convinced himself he didn't need him. He was going to do this himself. Besides, they had rifles and all the ammunition.
When the two men neared the crates, Sam stepped back from his position and pulled the trigger. Two thunderous shots echoed the warehouse, interrupting the sound of beating rain. The blast could have been mistaken for thunder if it weren't for the two thugs dropping dead on the floor. Sam's group had lost the element of surprise. 'It's showtime,' he mumbled.
Thugs yelled, "Detenerlos!" then scattered, taking cover wherever they could find it. Unaware of the exact location where the shots came from, they commenced firing over the dead bodies of their two compadres. Explosions of gunfire and zinging bullets rang throughout the warehouse as they unloaded their ammunition aimlessly toward the rear of the warehouse. Bullets ricocheted off the floor into walls, metal plates above flickering light bulbs swayed, bullets embedded in crates and pallets. Sam recognized their erratic shooting, and told his group to hold fire until he gave the order. "Why?" Jake asked.
"They don't know where we're at yet," he answered. "Let them use all their ammo up first, then we'll surprise them. Just stay low and ready."
"Good idea, Dad."
Inside Chavez's office, gunfire aroused Andrea from her chair, still weeping at the death of her brother and the brutal tabletop punishment Chavez had given her. Chavez leaped from the comfort of his chair, dropping the bottle of tequila on floor. "What the hell's going on?" he bellowed, in a furious tone. "Get out there and see what's happening."
Grabbing her pistol, Andrea darted to the door with Chavez close behind. Before she could get a glimpse of what was happening, Chavez shoved her into the warehouse adjacent to the crates where Sam's troop were hidden. "Get out there and handle it," he yelled.
Maddie spun toward the door at the sound of Chavez's voice. Standing in the corridor was Andrea. With the rifle at her hip, Maddie fired a shot. Andrea grasped her thigh, knocking her back against the wall. As she wormed her way back into the office, Andrea fired a shot, fatally striking Pilar in the back. Filomena let out a shriek of terror witnessing her sister hitting the floor. She set the little girl down, picked up Pilar's rifle, then without showing an ounce of fear, opened fired at the guards.
Andrea scampered past Chavez's feet just inside the door, as he yelled orders in Spanish to his men. His thunderous voice was cut short as a bullet from Sam's rifle scraped his shoulder. Chavez flinched back and retreated into his office. He fumbled for his cell phone, then punched in a number. "We need you!" he said. "Get over here, now! Bring everyone you got." Then he slapped the phone on his desk.
Now that all the guards knew where they were, Sam yelled, "Everyone fire."
Aiming from behind the crates, Sam's troop shot at random at anything that moved. Guards kneeled on the floor with no protection, while others hid behind a stationary forklift in the corner near the dock. The only other barriers were the stack of crates directly in front of Sam and his troop, or the many stacks behind them. Anyone attempting to get to either, were shot dead.
Ramona remained against the floor of the crates, draping her body over Emily and the little girl. Chavez's men dropped where they stood, or kneeled. A thin cloud of gunpowder began forming, and its smell smothered the mildew odor from before.
The warehouse grew silent while guards fumbled bullets to reload. Like a platoon leader on the front lines, Sam motioned his troop to the next stack of crates across from Chavez's office. The transport truck was in clear view, ready to take them away from there. "How far from here to the truck do you think it is?" he asked Maddie.
She was still firing and killing men when she answered. "Not far, probably about thirty-feet, give or take."
Rapid gunfire from guards commenced again. "Hold your fire," Sam yelled. In the midst of the war zone, Chavez cracked his door open and yelled in Spanish. A bullet fired from one of his guards struck the doorjamb next to him. He slammed the door closed. "What he day?" Sam asked, Filomena.
"He said more men are on their way."
He turned and resumed shooting. Thugs fell at the relentless onslaught of bullets from Sam's troop.
After thinking of what Chavez had just informed his men, Sam made a decision. "We gotta make a break for it." Those were the words he hadn't looked forward to saying, and hoped he wouldn't need to say. All they meant were one of them, if not all, were going to get killed.
"I'll go first," Maddie said.
Sam didn't want anyone going first. He had hoped they could kill all of Chavez's men, and just walk out. It wasn't an impossibility, but with backups being there soon, there was no telling how much time they had left. The ammunition they had wouldn't last all night.
"Are you sure you feel well enough?" he asked, Maddie.
She reloaded her rifle, then took a deep breath. "I do now."
"Okay, wait until they reload again," he replied, aiming like he would've at ducks in a carnival booth.
Jake learned to cushion the kick of the rifle. It was like target practice in the backyard, except these targets were shooting back trying to kill him. Ramona had resumed her position on the floor, remaining with her body draped over Emily and the little girl, as their predators dropped one by one.
"Get ready," Sam told Maddie. "They've gotta be getting close to reloading."
Clutching her rifle with her finger wrapped firm around the trigger, Maddie took another deep breath, ready to sprint. "Cover her," Sam yelled to Jake and Filomena.
She mouthed a countdown from three, then started to zigzag the thirty or so feet to the dock, killing anything that moved. "Run, Mom!" Jake yelled, over the endless onslaught of bullets.
Chavez opened the door hearing Jake's voice. Jake turned toward Chavez and fired a shot. The bullet grazed his shoulder, then entered the wall next to him. Chavez grabbed his shoulder, then retreated back inside.
Several feet from the edge of the dock, Maddie leaped like an Olympic long jumper into a minefield of puddles between the sedans and the truck. The rifle tumbled from her hands as she hit the ground. Before she could reach for her rifle, one of the buyers aimed a pistol at her. "Where do you think you're going?" he said.
Maddie closed her eyes waiting for the bullet.
The pistol clicked. Then clicked again, and again. As if trained in military tactics, Maddie grasped the rifle. "Go to hell," she said, then shot both men dead.
After working her way to the cab of the truck, she peered inside and saw the keys dangling from the ignition. After shooting the rear tires of the sedans, she crouched behind the edge of the dock and fired at the security lights. She then turned and commenced firing at the thugs. They were taking gunfire from both directions now.
Back inside the warehouse, bullets appeared from all directions, leaving a minefield of dead guards. Oblivious to their ne
ar defeat, Ramona offered a continuous string of prayers and soothing words of comfort to Emily and the little girl.
Sam motioned to Filomena, "You're next. Can you carry the girl?" he asked. He knew her chances of making it were slim, with, or without carrying the little girl.
"Si, señor," she said.
Ramona helped her situate the girl in Filomena's arm, then took her hand. "Be careful, and may, God be with you."
Sam asked Ramona to take a rifle, it was the rifle Pilar had used. "We're going to need all the firepower we can get," he told her.
Ramona held the rifle, like it was the first time. "Have you ever shot one?" he asked.
"I've never even held one."
"Just keep pulling the trigger and aim the tip of the gun toward them when she runs across, that's all you have to do."
Sam could tell she didn't want to harm anyone. She didn't seem the type of person who could kill a fly. "You might be saving your friend's life, and you'll increase the chance of seeing your husband again, soon," he tried to convince her.
"Okay, I can do it."
With the rifle in one hand and the girl in the other, Filomena made her dash through the blitz of bullets toward the truck. Steps from the edge of the dock, a painful penetration entered the back of her leg. Filomena dropped the rifle and soared forward. The little girl flew from her arms over the dock's edge. Maddie dropped her rifle ready to catch her. The little girl's body landed into Maddie's clutches knocking her to them both to the ground. Maddie worked her way up and slid the little girl across the bench of the cab toward the passenger window. "You're safe now," she whispered. "We'll leave here soon."
Filomena lifted her head as she attempted to crawl the last couple feet to safety, when Maddie returned. "Help me," she cried, reaching for Maddie to take her hand. Maddie reached over the dock to grab her hand. Filmonea's fingertips stretched out to Maddie's, but when their hands clasped, Filomena's head slammed to the floor of the dock. Rain washed away the blood as fast as it drained from the back of her head.
Ramona's scream muffled the sound of gunfire. The sight of her friend lying face down gave her the strength to volunteer. "My turn," she said, with no regard for losing her own life. Her only thought was to get to Filomena.
Before Sam could utter a word, Ramona had already kissed her St. Christopher hanging from around her neck, and had begun her stride toward the dock. Sam, Jake and Maddie covered Ramona, as she made the desperate attempt to the dock. The few remaining men sought protection from behind the forklift, fearing to come out from behind it.
Under the darkness of the pouring rain, Ramona fell beside the fatally injured Filomena, sobbing. She whispered to her as if to be giving her her last rites. "Come on! Get down here! She's gone," Maddie screamed.
Ramona was oblivious to Maddie's pleas. Maddie stretched over the edge of the dock to reach for her. "Grab my hand," Maddie shouted. Ramona was determined to remain with her friend. "Get in the back of the truck and keep your head down. Now!" Maddie's tone reminded herself of Andrea giving orders on the boat before passing out.
Ramona completed her ritual with Filomena and crawled to the rear of the truck and disappeared between the canvas flaps. The last time she was in this truck was during her abduction when she was brought to the warehouse. She flinched at the stench inside. Carlos lay gutted like a fish next to a man whose chest cavity was open with missing organs. On a humid day, it would be a nesting ground for flies and maggots. The scent of her own vomit made her more nauseous.
Sam turned to Jake, "Okay, buddy, your turn. Do you think you can do this?"
"No problem, there's only a few of them left." Jake's fear was buried under ten-feet of confidence. He had made it this far, there was nothing he couldn't do.
"I want you in that truck in five-seconds."
"What about you and Em?"
"Don't worry, we'll follow you shortly."
Dead bodies scattered the concrete floor of the warehouse where Chavez's thugs once stood with pointed rifles. The sound of the pounding rain rose above the sparse gunfire. Sam figured they were running low of ammo and were conserving it for when they had a clear shot. Those who ventured from behind the forklift to retrieve one of the loose rifles laying beside their dead comrade's, were shot themselves. It was like shooting ducks in a pond, something Sam had never experienced before.
He fired a few more rounds, then paused in the silence. "Get ready," he said.
"I'm already there." Jake's response was without fear as he reared back like a lineman waiting for the hike. With clenched teeth, he tightened his grip on the rifle. Gunfire from Sam and Maddie forced thugs to remain in safety behind the forklift. It took only seconds for Jake to dart across and leap over Maddie. He sprung to his feet and twirled toward the warehouse. "Come on, Dad!" he yelled.
"Get in the truck," Maddie instructed. Jake ignored her and perched his rifle on the dock, aiming at the men around the forklift.
Sam positioned Emily high across his shoulder, while holding the rifle in the other. He waited until Maddie motioned him to run. The signal came. Sam charged through gunfire, discharging bullets toward the forklift. He felt like Rooster Cogburn without the patch, and hoped the outcome would be the same.
Ten-feet from the edge of the dock, Sam released his rifle and positioned Emily in his arms, then went into a baseball slide, feet first. He slid off the dock and landed safely on the ground with Emily still in his arms. "Get Em in the truck and start the engine," he yelled, climbing to his feet and grabbing Jake's rifle out of his hands. "I'll keep them busy."
Moments later, Maddie and Jake were crammed in the cab next to Em and the little girl who was still unconscious. Emily muttered inaudible slurs with fractions of giggles. Maddie turned the ignition, but the truck just stammered. After a few pumps of the gas pedal, the engine popped and sputtered to a steady roar, emitting a dark exhaust from the tailpipe. Maddie tapped the horn. "Hurry, Sam. Come on!"
Alarmed by the sound of the horn, Chavez ran from his office with Andrea limping behind him. She fired into the darkness at Sam, while Chavez screamed, "Get them! Ram the truck."
Bullets sprayed toward Sam as he back pedaled toward the cab of the truck. When Sam was a steps from climbing in, he took a final shot, striking another. He dropped the rifle and turned to leap in, but shots fired from Andrea exploded into him. Blood oozed as he slumped on the seat behind the steering wheel. "Sam!" Maddie yelled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chavez's men shuffled alongside the forklift pelting the truck with bullets. Maddie saw blood draining from Sam's shoulder as he struggled to shift the grinding gear. Sam pressed the gas pedal to the floor expecting to pull away from the dock, but the rear tires spun, sinking deeper into the mud. "I can't get traction," he said in a panic.
Cramped between the kids and Sam, Maddie didn't have room to shoot back like she wanted, she'd have to depend on Sam to break free of the dock.
Ramona fidgeted in the truck as the sound of Chavez's voice approached. She was ready to plant herself on Carlos and the other corpse to fool them into thinking she had been shot. Instead, two steel forks entered through the flaps and began to rise, lifting the rear of the truck. There was nothing she could do.
Pain eclipsed his thoughts, while pain shuddered through his body. He had to find a solution before it was too late. While keeping the pedal to the floorboard, the truck lifted, jerking it forward as it peeled away from the dock and out of the puddled hole. "Hurry, Dad!" Jake yelled.
Sam cranked the wheel, his foot heavy on the pedal. As the truck broke free from the forks, the truck backfired down the road through the rain.
"Don't let them getaway," they heard Chavez yelling.
"How do we get out of here?" Jake asked.
"I'm not sure. I'm just following the road."
Sam peered through the outside mirror, as water flowed over it like a waterfall. Before a bullet shattered its glass, he saw Chavez's men emptying their rounds into the tru
ck.
Sam tried to focus on the limited visibility. "Where are they?"
Maddie leaned and glanced through the mirror on the passenger side. "They've stopped. We did it."
In the distance, they heard Chavez scream, "Tomar los coches. Obtenerlos!" Then he pointed to the two cars.
"They'll be on our tail soon," Sam said.
"Not if they think they're taking the cars, they won't," Maddie responded.
Metal from the wipers scraped the windshield making visibility through the torrential downpour worse. Sam navigated through the mangled maze of severed limbs and branches scattered along the road under the umbrella of horizontal mangroves. "It would be easier if I knew where I was going," he shouted, above the pelting rain against the metal rooftop of the truck.
Jake noticed the pain on his dad's face. His shoulder had become a solid blanket of red. "Mom, Dad's really hurt, we gotta him to a hospital."
"No, I'm okay."
"Let me drive," Maddie said. "We need to get your shoulder wrapped, pullover."
Jake glanced down, noticing blood on Sam's pants. "Your leg's bleeding, too."
"I'm fine, just let me concentrate." He was getting irritated. "Let me get us to the main road first, then you can takeover."
Maddie glanced down at Sam's leg. Blood was seeping onto the seat, but she dared not say anything. She was sure he knew it.
"How do you know we're going in the right direction?" Jake asked.
"I don't know, but it's the only road there is right now. Please, let me drive."
Sam rambled the truck along the road, weaving around obstacles of debris when he noticed bright lights ahead.
"I see lights," Jake said.
"Yeah, I see them too," Sam said.
As they drove closer, the lights got brighter. "I don't think they're there to help us," Sam mumbled. "It's Chavez's backup gang. It's a barricade." Then he whispered to himself, "We're not out of the woods yet." He meant no pun.
As they motored closer to the bright lights in their path, he could see a half dozen, or more men perched in front of parked cars, taking aim. He knew death of his family would be certain if he slowed. "Get everyone down and hang on," he said.
