Threshold
The Shadow Inside Me
Shadows Fall
Dark Corners
The Faction
Gateway
Rise of the Zombie
artwork by optic-echo
Threshold
The Shadow Inside Me
Shadows Fall
Dark Corners
The Faction
Gateway
Rise of the Zombie
artwork by optic-echo
Inside Buried Treasures, Ruben and Rosita Lopez are mystified by the sudden loss of power. All of the cars on the street have stopped in their tracks, the sound of their engines suddenly silent. Rosita is sure the anomaly will pass, but Ruben, isn’t as optimistic. “I’m telling you, Rosa, this is bad. Really bad.”
“Just give it a few minutes, and stop pacing. It’s going to be OK.”
“There is no way on earth to explain what just happened. Just listen. Do you hear anything?”
“No. Well, just people outside.”
“Exactly. Everything that runs on electricity is dead. That’s serious. We need to get the boys back here right now.”
“The car won’t start. Will it?”
Ruben takes a long pause, sighs, and admits, “No. no it won’t, Rosa.”
“What are we going to do about the boys?” As Rosita speaks, a small vibration tickles the antique shop. Then another.
Ruben’s eyes search the room. What was that?
The cascade of vibrations continues to grow. Boom. Boom. BOOM. Small ornamental objects begin to dance on the shelves of the store as the rumbling of the ground intensifies. A blinding light in the sky illuminates the room with a brilliant white that Reuben has never seen before. He and Rosita cover their faces with their hands from the intense glow that flashes through the windows. But just as fast as the light and sound arrive, the sounds move off into the west, leaving nothing but broken antiques in their wake. After the light subsides, Ruben peers outside.
Rosita’s voice, normally stable and optimistic, begins to crack. “What was that? What happened?”
“I don’t know, Rosa. I don’t see anything.”
“Do you think that was the Air Force Base?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But a lot of people are hiding in the shade. We better stay in here until things calm down.”
“What about the boys? We need to get them!”
Ruben stares blankly back at Rosita. “Of course. I’ll go get them and bring ’em back. Relax, Rosa.”
“You mean I have to stay here—by myself?”
“It will be OK, Rosa. I won’t be gone long. Just lock the door, and hang onto that hay knife. I don’t think anyone will bother you, but if they do, just show them that thing.”
“No. I’m going with you. I need to know that they’re OK.”
Ruben rubs his forehead. He feels perspiration and realizes that he’s clenching his teeth. I need a damn drink. “Stop it, Rosa! You’re not going. It’s more dangerous out there than in here. I don’t want you getting hurt. I want you to stay here and watch the shop.”
Rosita growls her disapproval towards his chivalry. “Fine! Go ahead. Be the machismo you always try to be.”
Ruben shakes his head. Rosita has always hated losing an argument. It’s never her fault. I am always the one to blame.
As Ruben heads for the door, Rosita notices that he is empty-handed. “So, no weapon for you? Huh? I need one inside the locked store, but you’re perfectly fine outside with nothing but your fading charm to keep you out of trouble?”
Her devious smirk hits home. His eyes pinch close. Ruben is empty-handed on a hot summer day and about to trek an hour or more in the city. Grrr. A mumble slips from his lips as he turns to face the back of the store. Ruben returns to his workbench, grabs the long-handled scythe and a bottle of water. He pauses to stare at a small wooden box, a thin wooden box on the counter that holds his matches and cigars. Most definitely. As he turns back to face Rosita, his hand slides into the pocket of his trousers. “Alright. Happy now?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Thank you. Shall I go now?”
Her hand reaches up to caress his face. The hostility of another argument slides off him in that instant. Her soft warm touch always had a way to calm his nerves. “I want you to be careful and bring my boys back to me. Ok?”
“I know dear. I will. You can count on it.”
The comforting kiss on the cheek reminds him who he shares his life with. This empowered woman is a menace to fight with, but her warm, sensitive nature is a reoccurring treat for the ages. He had known quite a few women in his younger days, but this woman right here in front of him, had stolen his heart forever. As the lock turns behind him on the storefront, he sighs a breath of anxiety. What crazy event did all of this?
The streets for as far as the eyes can see, are filled with people. Confused, panicked, and excited beyond rational thought, the level of hysteria elevates by each second.
A businessman in a fancy suit stands outside his BMW, searching for answers among the crowd catches Ruben’s eyes and tries to connect with him. “Hey! Do you know what happened?”
Disturbed by the growing chaos, Ruben doesn’t want to get sucked into the crowd. He quickly moves up the street toward the corner that leads to the suburbs. “Nope. Sorry.”
Just as he rounds the corner, a gasp of fear encompasses the crowd behind him. His quick glance behind turns into a moment to absorb the ominous trouble. Smoke plumes rise to the sky as grey powder begins to fill the air.
Is that…ash? Are the Sandia Mountains actually volcanos?
The blink of time that Ruben holds his gaze to the sky brings him back to reality. No. don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably just a fire at a local electrical substation.
Whatever the event was doesn’t change a thing. His first and only objective is to get the boys at soccer practice back safely to the shop.
As he moves through the quiet neighborhoods, a trend emerges. The city is powerless, the sky continues to darken, and already noticeable temperatures continue to climb. Pausing for a breath under a pack of aspen trees, he wiped his brow and discovers that he too, has ash on him. The dingy grey soot sticks to his sweaty skin. Rosa would not have made it very far. This heat is relentless.
Taking a quick gulp of water, he presses on into the suburbs. Only now he moves from shade to shade to avoid the heat that radiates up from the concrete surfaces. Surreal moments poke up from time to time as Ruben continues his journey. Down a normal neighborhood, he can see chaos unfold as one family raid their garage spaces for survival gear, then simultaneously, the very next yard over, a woman busily weeds her rose garden as her children giggle and play.
Only parts of the city have come to grips with the event. Some ignore it, expecting it to blow over, while some radicalize the event as an attack on the country, and prepare for war. These moments will define the human condition.
Being a pessimist, Ruben knows this will not end well. His growing up in Mexico City showed him all he needed to know about life. When people are pushed with adversity, revolutions begin, and blood is shed. Humans do not panic with grace. As the radical thoughts creep into his head, he once again, picks up his pace. Closing in on the park where the boys should be, Ruben winces from a harrowing scream. Quickly to the edge of the park, he stops at the sidewalk edge to survey the grassy soccer field. It’s completely empty. As his search for the boys becomes frantic, he hears a whisper that sends a chill down his spine. “Get down.”
Ruben spins on his heels to find the source. Again, the voice whispers. “Get down. They will see you.”
To his right, two boys cower in the bushes with tears in their eyes. “What do you mean?
"Who will see me?”
“Them.”
Another scream erupts across the street as a crazed woman charges down the center of the street in pursuit of a man and a pre-teen girl. The young girls face is of pure horror. The delirious wave of arms at full sprint, speaks of a darkness not yet seen by Ruben.
The fast track of the three individuals disappear between two houses and the screaming stops. Ruben just stands there. Mouth agape, eyes wide and hand firmly wrapped around the scythe. He takes the image in, with a hope that he would never have to know what it was about, or what happened in the end. With quiet calculating steps, Ruben ducks underneath the bushes to join the boys. “I’m looking for my boys. Have you seen them?”
…
“Dominic and Antonio Lopez…have you seen them?”
The boys tremble as they stare downward. They refuse to look towards the field. “Alright. Both of you. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Ruben stands up and steps out into the field when a boy grabs his ankle. “Don’t go.”
“I have too. My boys are here. I have to find them.”
Wrenching away from the grasp, Ruben feels guilty. If my boys had someone to protect them, and they walked away…dammit. What am I doing?
His conscience screams over and over with forceful intent. I will not forget about them. I will come back. I have too.
A white-knuckle grip clenches the scythe as he moves toward the center of the soccer field.
The raspy whisper of his voice calls out, “ Antonio…Dominic.”
Another whisper creeps out from the bushes across the field. “Papa! Over here papa!”
Ruben’s heart stops. There they are, healthy and waiting for him. A sigh of relief bellows from his chest as his muscles relax. “Are you both ok?”
“Yes, we are fine. Get down papa.”
“No more hiding. Here, drink some water. It’s time to go.”
As Ruben pulls on Dominic’s arm, Antonio pulls them back into the bushes. “No papa. They will see you. Follow me.”
As the three slip in and out of the trees and bushes around the park, Ruben tells his boys about the kids he met. The two other boys should still be hiding near the parking lot. “They are over there. In those bushes. I don’t know their names, but we need to go back for them.”
Antonio is very insistent As he tugs on his father’s shirt. “But, we need to leave. Now papa.”
Ruben nods his head in understanding as he presses on to the parking lot edge. Arriving at the bushes, he becomes fraught with concern. “I swear they were right here. Why did they leave?”
Dominic grabs Ruben’s arm with a tight grip. “Papa, look!”
A dazed teenage boy walks down the street, eyes focused on the ground. His clothing is clean, his appearance is that of a jock with a clean haircut and pants pulled up. The stripes that run across his chest resemble an adopted rugby clothing fashion. His demeanor is one you might typically trust on any given day. Except today is anything from typical. His mannerisms and gait, tell another tale. That boy looks high on a methamphetamine, he’s completely dazed. Don’t get ahead of yourself, dammit. Maybe he was in an accident and his head is concussed.
The boy continues down the street on a path that will lead him right past the family.
Ruben decides to hold his ground and just watch. He calculates what the teenager might be up to, where he is going and what might have happened. Dominic’s grip on his father’s arm is increasing, much more insistent. The closer the dazed boy gets, the more jittery and desperate Dominic becomes.
Antonio slowly slides behind his father’s shape with one eye on the boy. “Don’t move, papa.”
Ruben doesn’t seem to understand his boy’s nervous energy as he shakes his arm for Dominic to relent. “It’s ok, you can let go of my arm. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“No papa, let’s go.”
“Just stay behind me. It’s ok.”
Ruben, tucks Dominic behind him and steps out of the bushes onto the sidewalk. “Excuse me…are you ok, son?”
The teenager stops dead in his tracks, looks directly at Ruben, and yells a barely coherent growl. “IT’S BROKEN!”
Ruben, caught off guard, is jolted by this outburst. His arm extends with the scythe toward the teenager as a cautionary gesture. “Easy there, dude. Keep it calm.”
Through the minute ash particles falling gently to the ground, Ruben’s eyes focus in on the boy. His face looks hollow, upon closer inspection. His eyes are dark and his skin is discolored as if he has been on the beach too long. The overcooked pink skin of a nap, on a long, lazy summer day. The teenager’s stare does not relent. He just stands there, staring blankly.
Driven by his immediate goal, Ruben feels the situation is over. It’s time to move on. “Come on boys. Let’s just go. Mom’s waiting for us at the store.”
As Ruben breaks eye contact, and attempts to shuffle the boys off, he hears a second growl as his boys gasp. Shoes slapping the pavement echo off the houses that surround the park. Antonio lets out a blood-curdling scream as he can see the teenager’s fast approach.
Ruben’s instant response is to step back and protect the boys. But the moment he can see the teenager about to attack, he lifts the scythe above his head, and swings down hard and straight.
The long-curved blade of the scythe is dull from decades of use. It had cut down tall stalks of hay, cleared vines and even killed a few varmints’ in its days on some ranch long forgotten. But this was the last adventure for the tool. The late 1800’s hand held yard implement is now buried in the teenager’s arm. The heavily used blade has slid down between the boy’s index and middle finger. His shattered wrist is now dividing the radius and ulna bone, stopping just short of the elbow. The broken handle still resides in Ruben’s clenched hand. He recoils at the moment, letting go of the wooden handle in a fit of apologetic panic.
The teenagers face lights up with pain. With a howl, he runs off hunched over to the shadows of a nearby home.
A wave of confusion from the sudden unexplainable event, Ruben feels his hairs stand on end. “Holy shit.”
Both boys look up at their dad in awe. The smooth, fast end to the problem was pure luck to Ruben, but both Dominic and Antonio now see their dad in a whole new light. He is a warrior now. Cunning, lethal, and fearless.
As the family quickly move away from the scene, Ruben tries to catch his breath. The attack has overwhelmed him. The thought of what might have happened had he missed, or if the teenager came back for more, disturbs him.
Now, more nervous than ever, Ruben scuttles the boys as fast as he can through the suburbs.
This is the story of a small city with various souls that move about their lives on an ordinary day. 24 hours before the end of the world. The desert southwestern city of Albuquerque becomes the focus of carnage as the lights go out one Tuesday summer morning. The events that follow become increasingly significant as survivors’ group together to escape the ash and decrepit environment. Little do they know the horrors aren’t easily understood. Deep within the crumbling city, a darkness builds. A madman begins his rise for control of the fleeting assets and remaining citizens. But that’s not the end. Another threat lurks in the shadows, just out of sight. A threat that will rewrite humanity in ways no one could fathom.
No one is safe. No one is secure. This is the precipice to terror. 
mid-chapter: Into Corrales
A simple smile acknowledges her back as Leon moves down the hall, cautiously checking each and every room and closet. At the end of the hall, the boys room beckons.
From the approximation of his possessions, he must have been a pre-teen. A gaming system on the floor, beanbag chair in the middle of the room and a STAR WARS poster on the wall. These tell-tale items are clues to his mentality. He was still in the age of clumsy boy. That simple age where pretty girls have not yet shown up on the radar.
Below Leon’s feet, a thick pool of blood has soaked into the carpet, and a streaking trail of carnage leads out into the hall. The boy had his life snatched from him by his own father.
Leon shakes his head at the thoughts of the moment. He probably didn’t even see it coming. What the fuck is wrong with this world? Is it not enough that the sun took away our communities, tore us from our homes and destroyed our families? No, this wasn’t enough, it had to tear the life out of some people and send them back as hollow humans to kill the lucky ones? Maybe we aren’t lucky at all. Maybe the lucky ones were burnt in an instant, and we survivors are to become the new monsters of the world.
These thoughts bring Leon to his knees. Uncontrollable tears flow down his face as he stares blankly at the empty beanbag chair. He had a beanbag chair just like it when he was a child, in a time not so long ago. It seems like yesterday. His youth was still sliding off him as he was settling into the definition of a man.
It’s imagery like this, that takes him back. Life was so easy. Do chores, play video games, eat snacks, and find trouble with friends. Wash, rinse, repeat. No worries about food or water, life or death. Just cheap entertainment. Now…this.
This world will try and kill anyone, at any time, for no other reason than it can.
With a slight of his arm, Leon brushes the flash of his childhood away. The sudden jolt of time and space brings him back to reality.
Chapter:
You need a reservation, sir
The walk across the ash grey city is torturous to the Albuquerque detective, Kyle Parks. The slow plod goes against the grain for the fast thinking analyst. Time to retrain his tactics are at hand. The view of the super store under control by thugs gave the chill of danger. Each step on the pavement jars the senses. His mind races over and over the scenario of the isolated family. Dark images dance across his eyes. The daughters face locked in the basement. Her smile of lost hope is etched forever. The volatile father figure with antisocial behavior teetering on insanity. Their outcome now rest on his mental erosion. Kyle still carries the weight of his choice. Did he make the right move? The uncertainty of the outcome eats at his psyche.
The stark contrast of grey soot on the landscape brings a tinge of depression. The once familiar is now aged, hallow and haunted. With a blink and a shake, Kyle Parks tries to erase these thoughts. Just keep moving. My best help for the city is to assist the officers downtown regain law and order.
Another wave of emotion hits him square in the jaw. Elliot and Chachi. Brothers in blue. As they pressed on north, resisting the obvious degradation of the surroundings, they never thought of the people they swore to protect. They gave up. Maybe I’m the one with a false sense of honor. Meh. Fuck those guys. Well, Elliot anyway. I hope Chachi stays safe. He seemed like a good guy.
The plod southwest. So slow. So many potential pitfalls. Turn a corner. Interact with this person. Step inside that house, fall into a trap. All the calculated moves in a random day can now change his fate drastically.
Up ahead to his right, a local gas station he frequented quite often comes into view. On initial glance, it appears to be the same as every day before this one. Cars at the pumps and the front glass door propped open. A smile grows at the corner of his mind. Maybe I can grab a snack or two. Hell, an energy drink would kick me into gear, all the more.
The decision to cross the street and inspect grinds to a halt. The doors propped open are not a welcome sign anymore. A dead body is stuck in the opening with a pool of dried blood soaked into the concrete walkway. His eyes dance from edge to edge of the storefront as his hand clutches the loaded pistol at his hip. Shit. Are those fucking shadows inside? Move. Get out of here. Now.
Now out of range from the store, Kyle exhales a sigh of discontent. He needs stability. A purpose to work towards and stand for. This mindless meandering eats him from the inside out. At work, his mind was always clicking like a well-oiled clock. Chase this lead, interview this person. The brain needs stimulus. Things were so simple in retrospect. Surrounded by like-minded individuals with daily goals in place. A regiment full of structure. Do this, end result is that. New tasks always had a visual goal. Life is supposed to have structure. Structure in each day keeps the mind sharp. Now, the world has nothing to offer but despair. The building blocks of his accomplishments erode before his eyes.
With a self-inflicted task of self-preservation put forth, detective Kyle Parks moves toward the downtown police station. A goal that keeps his mind from the abyss that he may never recover from. The zig-zag path south, then west, has been to maximize the shade in the hazy smoke. A turn of the corner brings a surprise image before him. He has reached the New Mexico state fairgrounds. The large facility taking up several city blocks has the potential to be a refuge for thousands of homeless citizens. With the block wall and wrought iron fencing, this oasis might possibly be his best shot at safety and a purpose.
Kyle smirks again. This could be one hell of a fortress. I wonder if anyone is still here.
The north east corner wrought iron gate is locked as expected as Kyle reaches the opening. “HELLO! ANYONE IN THERE?”
…
“HELLO!”
“Shhh, not so loud.”
Startled, Kyle grabs his pistol and peers up at a man on the block wall, several feet away. “What do you mean, not so loud?”
“You haven’t been around much, have you?”
“Yea. I have seen things. What do you mean?”
“Behind you.”
“What?”
“Behind you. WATCH OUT.”
Kyle spins on his heels to see a woman at full sprint headed directly at him. The spittle of saliva and blood splashes her shirt as her growling grows more and more intense. The smack of heel-less shoes on the pavement echoes off the walls in a most bizarre scene. Her attack is clumsy as the smooth soles slip and grind on loose rock. “What the fuck?”
The man on the wall chuckles as he leans in to see the outcome. “Yea, you better kill her before she gets to you.”
The gym bag with six cans of soda whip around just at the moment she arrives. Smashing her upside the head, she crashes to the ground in a heap as a soda explodes in the bag with a fizz.
“You better finish her… she will get up!”
Kyle looks to the man on the wall with confusion. He just sits there with a calm demeanor in this hostile event. The semi-auto rifle sits silently on his lap as he grins from his own amusement. The woman growls a bit of a whimper as she rises to all fores and looks Kyle dead in the eyes. Her taught skin and hollow stare with grit teeth resembles a demon. A monster in sheep’s clothing. Something sinister has moved in and wears her skin. From her fore stance, she lunges with abandon. Kyle draws his pistol with accuracy, sights and fires.
POP POP
Both shots are point blank and center mass. The woman folds in a heap as one long gasp of air slips her body.
The man on the wall gives Kyle a sarcastic clap of admiration. “Nice shooting, Tex!”
“What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t you shoot her?”
“We have rules here mister. Very simple, organized rules.”
“Like, what kind of rules? Let people get mauled, and don’t help out?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, who the fuck is in charge?”
“Right here, and right now…I am.”
“Fuck your rules, let me in. I am a detective of the Albuquerque police…”
“Don’t care. Sorry. They’re not my rules, I just control my shift on the wall.”
“How do I get in?”
“Ok, So the rules are, no one on the wall gets involved with outsider problems. Ever. If you want in, you must wait twenty-four hours outside, within view of the wall. If you’re still here after the time frame, you can come in. Unarmed. All weapons become our property. Once inside, you get twenty-four-hour protection. All day, every day.”
“That’s the craziest bunch of rules I have ever heard.”
“Sorry. But that’s it. If you have a beef with someone outside, and they are chasing you, it’s your problem. Not ours. If we let you in and you are being chased by someone violent, then they become a threat to all us inside. We can’t have that.”
“That’s just fucked up, you know this, right?”
“Yea, I know. It’s crazy the things you see up here.”
Kyle shakes his head in disbelief. This can’t possibly be the rule. Sleep on the sidewalk, out in the open for twenty-four hours? Defenseless, shelter less, and without any support? All the while, some guard just watches people get killed.
The guard on the wall finishes his cigarette and tosses it off to the city street. “Hey police dude, how many bullets you got left?”
“Eleven. Why do you ask?”
“Eleven huh? Your gonna need ‘em.”
This is the follow up to The Warm Shadows Threshold. The story falls deeper in despair as the pieces on the chess board find their calling. The defiant grow stronger, The distance becomes greater. Humanity rests in the hands of a small galvanized few. The darkness in the shadows have risen. An ever present threat that stakes its claim to the environment. But just as one enemy is understood, another breaks civility and challenges for territory. There is not enough space, and no one will recede. A showdown is inevitable, but at what cost?
As the eyes focus on the objective, the peripheral is missed. What lies beyond the reach? It is in plain sight. Never underestimate your opponent.
sorry...at this time i cannot excerpt any part of the story from this book.
what every i could say, hint, foreshadow, or quote...would be too much insight.
please stand by.....
Welcome to the new world. Revenge is a bitter drink. The consequences are vast and expensive. For each action, an equal and far more dangerous reaction will take its place. This is far from over. The darkness is closing in on the survivors. Neither side is safe. Evil lurks in the middle.
The comical smirk on his face slips to dismay as the initial attempt at starting the Jeep returns nothing but silence. “Oh, come on.”
Click
Click
The tiny gauge needles all read zero. Not one single twitch of life.
“Ahhhh. Damn it.”
After a solid fifteen seconds of his head buried in the steering wheel, Sawyer lifts his head again to the trees. “Shut it. Don’t say a damn word. I know I have to walk down. This is ridiculous.”
As his first foot touches down to earth outside the vehicle, a tiny vibration tickles his bones.
Then another.
Then another.
A third impact tickles the senses. But this one is longer and closer. The growing vibrations are closing in on his location as he pivots his head for signs of munitions igniting somewhere in the distance. He continues to search the sight-lines right to the moment he turns to the most unlikely of directions. The east. Now why would that come from there?
His question is most peculiar because to the east of his mountain location is a handful of sporadic townships and open farming terrain as far as the eye can see. We don’t do training exercises this close to the highway. What is that noise?
As the thumping grows closer, his eyes scan incessantly for movement. Is that logging? That’s it. Trees coming down. That’s crazy. They are so close together. There’s no way someone can drop that many trees at the same…time.
Sawyer’s face grows cold as the noise connects with a vision. It’s not trees falling or military artillery. It’s the sun raining down. Small objects of pure white energy split the sky open and spike the ground in the most violent of displays of power he has ever seen. The wave of pain cascades towards his location faster than his head can process the information. He has zero time to react. He doesn’t even shield his face as the wave slides over the earth and continues on to the west out of sight.
Trailing the energy down at each impact, a pure white light follows a large crack of sound as the atmosphere collapses behind on its self. In the wake of the impacts, the sky grows the most brilliant of white light that even though his wraparound sunglasses deflect some of the brilliance, he still winces at the sheer beauty of color.
Down in the valley of Albuquerque the ground dust plumes up into towers as flames grip hold of each location. The city has been decimated by this blatant bombardment of our closest star. All of our centuries of worship to the warming rays of vitamin D have proved useless.
Staff sergeant Sawyer Patuk, proud Inuit and faithful soldier of the United States Air Force, is the lone witness to the grand display. He is the man on the mountain to watch the world crumble.
A chill rolls over him as his eyes move from the far away events to something closer to home. The air force base is burning. A direct hit to the southern runway is consumed by fire and debris.
“Oh fuck.”
As he closes his eyes, Sawyer reaches into his shirt and removes a tiny amulet tied to a leather necklace and utters a whisper of hope. “Oh Anguta, please divine mercy on us. Let the transition be merciful and quick. Let Silla find balance and show us the way.”
The tiny moment of peace is met with a gentle breeze of air through the trees surrounding him. Mother earth exhales a long breath as the time to access her damage is at hand.
The calm moment is over as Sawyer returns the amulet back under his uniform and begins his trek down to the base of the mountain.
A new group of survivors plunge themselves into the deep recesses of a secure underground military base. Salvation from the horror just outside. Or is it? The degradation of morale soon becomes a threat to itself as the monsters in our head are set free. What was worse...inside or out?
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CHAPTER:
ABSOLUTION
A Spanish cover of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” encapsulates the car interior as the radio carries Leanne’s mood down the backcountry roads outside a small Mexican city. Leanne Carotte is in need of medical attention as she slumps in the driver’s seat. The blood pool at the base of her back sticks her to the leather seat as her driving becomes erratic. A loss of control veers the car off the road as she snaps her attention back to the moment. Both feet fumble for the brake as the car grinds to a halt on the loose gravel. She leans her head on the steering wheel as a black and white jigsaw puzzle dances her vision.
A long pause to collect her head rolls her eyes to the briefcase in the backseat. The bag of white powder is a curious thought as she dips her finger in and gives it a taste. Cocaine. No question. A healthy left handful flips over her shoulder as she rubs the open wound. A euphoric tingle eases her tension as the numbing agent takes hold. With her hand back in front she holds it to her face a takes a deep inhale from her coated palm.
Relaxation is upon her. The pain slips away to a charge of energy.
Back on the road she holds her hand out to the wind as the BMW picks up speed. The white powder disperses across the evening countryside as she cranks up the music even further.
A few miles closer to town the gravity of her situation sets in. She is in a blood-soaked car, busted window, bullet holes throughout, loaded pistol and a book sized bag of pure cocaine. The image of Policia catching her is not a pleasant one.
The cell phone of the dead man sits on the floorboard under her feet as she knows she must now leave the car somewhere inconspicuous.
Ring…
“Hello?”
“Renee, it’s me. I need you to pick me up.”
“Holy shit! Are you ok?”
“No. No I’m not. I’ve been stabbed in the back.”
“Ok, ok. Where are you?”
“I’m just west of town. Costa and Vallejo. I’m gonna park this car in the trees.”
Leanne looks the car interior over in a hurry for a marker. On the floorboard in the rear a tiny piece of red is stuffed under the seat. “Look for a…red tie on the side of the road.”
“A red tie?”
“Yea, a red man’s tie.”
Back to Renee’s house the dawn light stimulates the neighborhood as she helps Leanne to the bathtub. Renee has seen a lot of blood in her time living in the barrio, but the amount drenched all over Leanne is surreal. Under her fingernails, behind her earlobes. It takes a whole bottle of shampoo to scrub it out of her beaten body as Renee works the sponge like a hazmat cleanup team. A clumsy stitching of the gash in her back is a learning moment. Two more towels in the trash. The habitual destruction of mind and body has its residual effects.
As Renee tosses the last of the remnants in a black trash bag, she ponders how this will end. The crisp sunshine of the morning sky illuminates the kitchen as Renee reaches a decision. This psychotic woman needs more than I can give. She’s going to get us both killed. Or worse. I wonder…
The cell phone rings on the other end as Renee moves as far as she can from the bathroom.
“Tio’s…”
“Hi, I umm, need to speak with Chico.”
“Yeah, that little bitch left town with Esmerelda. Try Tijuana.” Click
Rinnngg.
“Tio’s...”
“Is this Santos?”
“Yea, who’s this?”
“It’s Renee. I used to date Chico. I need someone to talk to.”
“I’m sorry.”
…
“What do you need Chica?”
“I have a friend that can’t help but…do bad things to people.”
“Bad things? What the fuck do you mean? Spill it bitch.”
“Hey, fuck you cabron. This Chica over here gets her kicks killin’ cartel fuckers. I need to talk to someone.”
The snide sarcastic tone can’t be helped as Santos chuckles at her. “Shit. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that.”
“I’m not kidding. Check around. Last night someone lost a lot of blood in a beemer and it’s all over my friend.”
“Alright, alright… Call back in one hour.” Click.
Renee spends the next hour on her laptop flipping through news reports and headlines. The report of an unknown killer creating a scene at a drug lord home is sporadic and vague.
A slight shake to Leanne still in the bathtub brings a groan and squinted eyes.
“Hey…did you kill a guy named Ignacio last night?”
No deep detail from Leanne but a slight snicker as she dazes back to unconsciousness.
“Maybe.”
Rinnngg.
“Tio’s.”
“Hey, it’s Renee. Did you find out?”
“Maybe. How do I know you’re not fucking with me?”
“Because I got the girl who did it. She’s out cold right now.”
“Where you at?”
“My house.”
“Ok. Bring her ass and five hundred dollars to the market by the taquito hut. If she can give details that match, I’ll bring you to see the boss.”
“I told you, she’s out cold. I can’t lift her, and I don’t have five hundred dollars.”
“Yeah I hear ya. Be there in three hours or don’t show at all. You hear me?”
“I hear you. Three hours.” Click.
Outside the taquito hut, Santos sits positioned under the umbrella while the remaining seats are under the furnace of the sun. A snide smirk sits on his face as both women squirm as the heat pummels their senses.
“You brought payment for the visit?”
Leanne is hesitant as Renee pries the carved wooden box from her grip and slides it across the table.
“What’s this?”
“Payment.”
Santos slowly opens the box and peeks inside. “Well, shit. This is better than five hundred dollars. Let me buy you two a lemonade!”
A snap of his fingers brings the cashier from the hut to his table. “Three lemonades, por favor.”
As the cashier heads back inside Santos leans in to whisper to Leanne. “You know chica, this is a hell of a way to try and make friends or enemies.”
Leanne just stares off toward the crowds that move past as Renee becomes desperate. “Listen, I get it. This isn’t your problem. Hell, I’m just glad you showed up. But I got a real fucking problem here and I think it would be in your best interests to keep listening.”
“Shit, I have met a lot of people that talk a big game. It’s like a fuckin playground around here. Oh, if I had a knife right now, I’d cut him up so bad, blah blah. The world I live in doesn’t have rules, or care for your feelings. This is real time dark sinister shit. The cartel kills whenever they feel like it. They don’t follow a code. If it gets in the way, they cut it open.”
“Well I’ve got two choices. Find somewhere to lay low or run. I know the run doesn’t work for most people. That can be just as bad as them finding you. The twenty-four-hour stress of looking over my shoulder. No thanks.”
Santos leans over the table again to whisper his insight. “As far as I know, they have never heard of you. You could run and probably make it. Now her on the other hand, she’s fucked. They caught her killing two men on camera and found Ignacio’s body in the ditch. Her face, what’s left of it…is all over the country.”
Leanne pops up from her seat from the news. “Wait, they had cameras? I didn’t see any.”
“He he. Shows how ready you are for this. Bitch, you need to disappear.”
“Fuck you. Come on Renee, we don’t need this shit. We can handle ourselves just fine.”
As Leanne shoves her chair away and turns from the table, Renee grabs her arm for a private conversation. “If we don’t find someone that can get us underground soon, they will find us. Put your attitude away for a minute. Let me finish this.”
Leanne huffs out loud as she moves closer to the building for shade. The heat of the sunlight is driving her emotions. “Alright Santos, what’s it going to take?”
“Well, I need you to tell me and my associate the story in detail and it will be up to him where this goes.”
Renee looks to Leanne with her answer. Leanne nods to Santos in agreeance.
“Ok, follow me around back.”
As the conversation moves to the back of the parking lot, they all gather under a large oak tree and begin. Santos calls his associate and puts the conversation on speaker. Not a single word is spoken from the phone as Leanne and Renee recall the details from the first meeting to this very moment. Santos keeping one eye on his surroundings uses the other to watch the women’s body language and eye contact with each other as the story unfolds. “So that’s it?”
Both Renee and Leanne nod. The story is out in the wind.
Santos picks the phone up off the hood of his car and returns the speaker to normal. His walk away has him in a whisper as he confers with the associate. CLICK “Ok, he told me to bring you to meet him. Get in the car.”
Leanne moves around to the backseat when Santos stops her from opening the door. “Naw, I don’t think so. You sit up with me. Renee, you get in back behind her.”
The drive across the outskirts of town is one of few words as the blare of Mexican mariachi music through static speakers fills the interior. Santos turns down a long concrete road to nowhere and pulls the car over. In the console he pulls out eight long zip ties and hands them to Leanne. “Ok, tie your hands and feet together. I don’t need any trouble from you two.”
As both women tie their feet together, then hands, Santos reaches over and ties them both to the overhead seat handles. “Alrighty. Now just relax and let’s take a drive.”
Both women look to each other for comfort as Santos opens the case and inspects the engraved pistol. “Fuck this is nice. Shit for this payment, I would have let you follow me on Instagram.”
His chuckle to amuse himself falls on deaf ears. Being tied for a ‘a little drive’ to nowhere has a way of killing any sense of humor. “That old guy you killed in the Beemer last night…did you know who that was?”
Leanne rolls her eyes at the comment. “Nope. Don’t care.”
“Well you should. That was Leonidas’ uncle. He was a high roller in the horse racing circuit and a major player in the local winery.”
“So?”
“So? He is up in the governmental system. Big time. Any time a Politician needed to get paid, Yo, he was the one to do it. You not only pissed in the cartels business, you pissed off the system. You’re practically famous now. If it was actually you, of course. Hehe.”
Renee can’t believe what’s being said. Her face is one of shock and awe. As Leanne looks back to Renee for understanding, she looks away in disgust. “I told you. I fucking told you not to create a bloody crime scene. So, what did you do? You created a bloody crime scene for the history books.”
“Sorry. He didn’t exactly tell me his background while he was trying to kill me.”
CHAPTER:
DESERT DRIVE
Down the long road a solid twenty miles Santos slows the car to a crawl until a turn off. A quick move of a barb wire fence, he returns to the car and drives several hundred yards to the edge of the forest. “Alright ladies, time to meet the boss.”
Still zip tied to the car grab handles both women snap their view across the tree line. The creeping feeling of death is upon them as nothing but pine needles and tree bark stare back. “What the fuck is this? I thought we had an arrangement.”
“Oh, we do. And this is how it all unfolds.”
Santos reaches in and unclips Renee from her handle and guides her to a slow rolling mound of dirt ten feet away. “On your knees.”
Renee is shaking uncontrollably. Her voice cracks as she pleads. “Please don’t do this. I haven’t done anything to anyone.”
Santos pops her in the small of her knee with his foot and Renee collapses to the ground. “Nope. You haven’t. I completely understand this. Just stay down there and wait. If you run, I’ll end you.”
Back to the car Santos unclips Leanne and holds the pistol barrel tight to her neck. “Don’t be stupid. Just move over there and drop. It’s time to hear what the boss has to say.”
As Leanne drops to her knees she whispers to Renee for consolation. “If this is the end, I just want to tell you, thank you for saving my life.”
The view is majestic atop the natural dirt mound. Just beyond the tree line the earth slopes off to reveal a valley of rock face mountains and rolling hills of mesquite and cottonwoods. The rustling behind them is a handful of awkward noises as a trunk lid opens, a metal clunk and the distinct sound of a large sheet of plastic grow closer. Santos voice breaks the roar of silence. “Yeah, let me speak to Jardiel.”
…
“Hey boss. Ok, we’re at the pit. You’re on speaker.”
A deep gravelly voice crackles through as both women listen intently. “Ladies, you have been through a rough few adventures. So, I did my research on the both of you and have a few questions.”
…
“Go ahead boss. They're listening.”
“Renee Escobar, you have found yourself in quite the predicament, haven’t you? Ever since your little boy was killed in a school shootout, you have struggled to find yourself. Office supply warehouse, burger joint, medical data input…not much of a future for you. It seems you haven’t let go of the tragedy. I can respect that. Family is a strong quality to hold on to, and when it’s ripped from your soul, you have two choices. To let it eat you alive, or to rise up. My question for you is, are you ready to make a difference in the world, or would you prefer to have the pain stop?”
As Jardiel finishes his sentence, she hears Santos roll the pistol hammer back. Renee stares out to the pasture with the longing of her child. Her mind fractures again as she sobs uncontrollably. She is utterly broken.
“And you, Leanne Carrote. You are an enigma. You have dug a serious hole that most would never ever see their way out of. On one hand you have been a puppet for the cartel, a user, a manufacturer. A lost soul without a purpose. Manipulated for years and a wildcard at your core. On the other hand, you have single handedly brought the entire faction to attention and disturbed a nest of hornets. They want you to be made an example of. If you actually did what the rumors speak of, you truly are living on borrowed time.”
A long pause from the cell phone is followed by a deep exhale of indecision. “For all my searching and digging, I can’t conclude if you’re a mole working your way in to us, or simply a pawn of your own weakness.”
Santos moves closer and puts the gun barrel to the base of her skull as the man on the phone continues. “I need to know whether you have chosen a life of retribution, or one to fulfill any whim that presents itself. I have had a few run-ins with people like you in my time, and they never turn out the way I expected. Give me one reason to believe you’re any different than those that failed me.”
The stoic expression on Leanne’s face is one of vitriol. To be put in this position by some unknown man infuriates her. “Well, you know what? I think you should go find a sharp pole, or blunt object and literally go fuck yourself.”
A long pause and a deep laugh emanates from the phone as Leanne closes her eyes.
“That’s what I needed to know. Thank you.”
…
“And what about you Ms. Escobar…what do you want most? Is the pain too much? Or are you willing to rise up above yourself and begin again?”
“I want to live. I want to see those that create this horror to die mercilessly. Those bastards need to stop kidnapping and killing children. I want to change the world.”
“Santos?”
“Yes boss?”
“Let slip the dogs of war.”
“Yes sir.”
Snip…snip. Both women feel the zip ties snap free from their feet as the long heavy breath of relief fills their lungs.
“Welcome to Savajes de la Arena.”
Santos hands Renee the wire cutters to finish and heads back to the trunk with a shovel and a roll of black plastic.
CHAPTER:
TIO’S Tequila & Tattoo
The drive back to town is dead quiet. Both women stare out the window and inhale the sights and smell of the open Chihuahuan desert. The distinctive bouquet of rosemary mint blooming goes hand in hand with the sporadic pale blue and white flowers. The smell tickles memories of childhood. The moment a child becomes cognizant of their surroundings to embrace the world before them. These pungent smells have long become an afterthought until one is reborn. The heady space right after a seemingly certain death where everything becomes more vivid and pronounced. The rolling hills and sand dunes give and take with the red tipped cactus, cottonwood trees and yucca’s as they jockey for survival in the harsh climate. These images are fresh now. The tones of color and ferocious aromas tingle a regret. The lost feeling of innocence and wonder dance by just out of reach.
Now deep in the barrio, Santos weaves the car in and out of the city streets. A quick turn into the parking lot of a seedy biker bar on the edge of Juarez Mexico give both Renee and Leanne a pause of regret. “Follow me through the bar. Don’t stop, don’t look around.”
Inside, the bar is clustered with loud conversation, arguments and harsh stare from the patrons as Santos directs both women through a side door to the tattoo parlor in back. A long vinyl sofa dominates one wall with an old Vietnam storage trunk on one end and a wrought iron and wood end table at the other. The low-level lighting is a shock to the senses as they blink erratically to adapt. “Sit. OC will be with you in a minute.”
As both women sit and adjust their eyes to the room, the images on the walls come into view. Serpents and daggers alongside naked women. Bold italic scripts and elaborate art for the day of the dead. One masculine tattoo design after another blends with the musk of sweat, rubbing alcohol, dust and peeling paint in the neglected shop. Tucked away in a solitary corner a collection of trinkets draw the eye of Renee. A confusing blend of bizarre voodoo straw dolls, bone carvings and incantation script decorate in a peculiar order. The ominous tone of evil spirits and a caution toward the underworld. Renee nudges Leanne with an elbow and points to the display. “What’s that about?”
“Sister, this is Mexico. There’s a serious culture down here that don’t play games with their beliefs. It would be best if you don’t stir drinks you don’t want to swallow.”
A pair of footsteps approach as a slick haired militant enters the room with a swagger. “Ok darlings…you in that room, you over there.”
Once inside the small room, Renee takes it all in. A sprawling doctor chair, a footstool and a chest of inks are spread out in disarray.
The door closes on Leanne’s room and the man returns to visit Renee. In his hand is a well-worn machete and a pistol on his hip. “Ok sweetheart, strip to your thin linens and put your stuff in this bag.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, relax doll, I’m not here to get my feels. You’re not my type. I like my women fierce.”
“Are you kidding me? You want me to strip in front of you?”
“Yuppers. That’s how we do things ‘round here.”
“Can you look away, please?”
“Shit, what good is that? I got to watch you like a hawk. If you’re up to no good, this would be your chance to drop a bomb.”
A long sigh from Renee as she drops her shorts and peels off the spaghetti strap top. Now clutching her elbows, she holds a pose of insecurity.
“Hehe. Alright, arms out and legs apart.”
The embarrassment of the moment shows as her face is flush. Her eyes watch his every move.
“Ok cutie, I’m gonna sweep you with this metal detector, so don’t move. I got a twitchy swing and I’ll turn this place into a tomb if you so much as scratch an itch. You feel me?”
“Yeah, I got it. Just don’t fucking touch me.”
A snide mumble from his mockery is followed by a chuckle. “Don’t fucking touch me…that’s what all the chicas say. One day, I swear, one’s gonna ask me to give them a good feel. Hehe.”
The wand moves over her body slowly as he takes it all in. His white-knuckle grip on the machete keeps Renee silent as she waits for this to end.
“Ok. You’re CLEAN. Too bad…I’m excellent at giving sponge baths.”
He looks into her eyes as he waits for her to laugh. “Damn. That joke never works. Oh well. So just outside this room is a locker on the floor next to the sofa. Dig through it and find some clothes you like. I’m gonna go visit your friend.”
As they both exit the room, Renee offers a warning to him. “You might wanna ease up off the jokes with her. She’s not so pleasant to be around.”
His eyes light up with a smile. “Really? Is she feisty?”
“She’s well past feisty. Most would call it dangerous.”
“Oh, goody goody. Just you wait right here, I’ll be right back.”
The muffled conversation behind the door gives little as the rock and roll plays in the bar but the distinct sound of a full contact slap to the face rings above it all. Three minutes later both Leanne and the man emerge from the room as he rubs his cheek.
“I like this one! She’s a keeper.”
A single middle finger rises to the air as Leanne digs through the locker on the floor.
“Ok ladies, my name is Oscar, but you can call me OC. I’ll be your contact during all your excursions. Here’s my number. Memorize it. Anything that needs to be discussed goes through me first, then to Jar. Santos runs his own operation and he can be called on if needed. In a minute Jar will see you so just relax and have some fuckin' pretzels.”
On the side table to the far end of the sofa a small bowl of peanuts and pretzels offer up a healthy layer of dust and stale salt. Both women sneer at the thought. As Oscar carries both bags of clothing and accessories outside, a scruffy man enters. His posture is that of an older man that has seen his fair share of hard work. His skin is dry, and the black and white pepper beard put him in his early 50’s. As he approaches his deliberate cross of his hands reveal both of his index fingers are missing. Both women raise their eyebrows to this discovery as he studies them. “Hello Ms. Escobar and Ms. Carotte, my name is Jardiel, but you can call me Jar. I run this fine upstanding establishment and all of the inner workings. If you have a problem with anything that has happened to you, it is a direct reflection of my work.”
Both women just wander their eyes over his frame and demeanor. The long sleeves hide a series of tattoos that disappear up his arms. His hands are distorted from years of abuse. A dingy set of denim jeans have cuts and tears on front and back no doubt from adventures and interesting locations. On his waist an old brown leather belt, a small pouch containing a small Leatherman tool, and on his other side a brown leather holster containing what appears to be a very large caliber stainless steel revolver.
“I suppose your first question would be what is it that we do around here? Well, this is a bar and tattoo shop just like any other. At some point each of you will be required to serve our fine patrons drinks and engage in small talk. If either of you has a particular talent with artwork, you may even be assigned to ink our brethren.”
Renee is confused as she fidgets on the sofa. Her looks to Leanne and then Jardiel show a collection of questions bursting to get out. “Ahh…”
Leanne reaches over and stops her. A simple nod of “no” says everything.
“So, we have one more thing to discuss before we can get to business. The articles that you arrived here with. Follow me.”
Out the rear door to the fenced in yard a barrel sits with a raging fire as both Santos and Oscar paw over the clothes and personals.
“What do we have gentleman?”
Santos looks to Oscar and Jardiel with a shrug of his shoulders. “It all looks good Jar, what have you got OC?”
Oscar drops the pair of shorts Leanne wore into the fire and holds up her phone. “Yea, everything seems fine, except for this. It’s a burner. There’s is only a handful of calls on it.”
Renee steps up. “Yeah, I can explain that. I bought her the phone for when she went out. I didn’t want her to get caught and trace it back to me.”
Leanne turns with a stare of betrayal back at Renee. “What? You didn’t trust me?”
“Well, what do you expect? Your off fucking with cartel assholes and you want me to give you a registered phone? Are you insane?”
“Shit. No trust. I should have climbed over the other fucking fence.”
“Fuck you.”
Leanne crosses her arms and turns away from Renee. Her scorn is plain as day.
A grin and a snicker pops from Santos as he adds his opinion. “You two needs some gloves to work this out?”
Oscar smiles. “Oh man, this day just gets better. Two chicks gonna duke it out. I love my job.”
Jardiel holds his hands out with palms down to gain the attention of the situation. “Ok, relax. Renee did the right thing. Leanne you need to learn that when taking a risk, there has to be an understanding. When you go to work for us, the same situation will apply. If you are caught, there will only be so much we can do for you. Any association with us brings risk upon us all.”
As the personal items all end in the fire, Jardiel pockets the cash and redirects them back inside. “If you are hungry, you make your own food in this kitchen. If you have any special requests, write them on the board. Once a week a random patron will do our shopping for us. This keeps us under a low profile. Everyone in this bar is considered a friendly. No one gets in without a reason. Period. So, you will treat all of them with respect. Is this understood?”
A simple nod from both clears the air.
“Ok, so we need to move forward with this relationship. You both need to prove your worthy of the risks we have taken. The first step of this process is we check your history and story. We have chronicled both of you in grave detail. The more recent adventure was confirmed by your old neighbor Juan Hermosillo. I do hope you remember him. The poor man lost his mother, father and his woman to the explosion in the meth lab.”
…
“You remember the explosion, don’t you Leanne. The one that killed his family?”
Leanne looks away from Jardiel as he stares. Renee can’t help but gasp at the realization of it all. “You mean, he knows you? Holy shit.”
“Yes. You are correct. The man whose future was snuffed out by her actions, has saved yours. If it weren’t for him vouching for you, you would be deep underground feeding the ants.”
Leanne returns her gaze to defend the moment. “Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone besides that bag of shit Buret. All I knew was, I needed the pain to stop. I did what I had to do.”
“Yes. This is understood. But know this…you will forever be indebted to him. If the moment arises that you can take a bullet for him, it will be expected of you to do so.”
The hard look of denial on Leanne’s face provokes Renee’s sympathies. “Listen, we are truly sorry about what happened. That moment after the explosion I saw Juan in his backyard. It was one of the most heart-breaking things I have ever seen. But I see Leanne’s point as well. She was in a bad place and nowhere to go.”
“It does not matter now. What is done is done. You cannot reassemble your past, you can only dictate your future.”
Back inside the entire crew assembles down the hallway into the warehouse. Stacks of cardboard boxes line the walls with steel storage shelving units scattered about. In the far corner an illuminated desk sits with rolled maps and stacks of papers. With a wave, Jardiel brings the attention to the desk and puts forth the first objective for the women.
“Ok, in order for us to come together on the like-minded goals, we need you to complete a very dangerous task. This is your last chance to back out. Once we begin, there is no turning back.”
Leanne leans over the desk and smiles. Her intent pose is of excitement and pent fury. “You know I’m in.”
Santos rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s all fun and games until the shit gets real. Then we’ll see how in you really are.”
Leanne steps up to Santos face and bumps him chest to chest. “How many throats have you slit this week, huh?”
“Back up before I give you a limp, little girl. You sure do act tough, but how are you face to face?”
“Try me.”
“Oh yeah, maybe I should.”
Jardiel can see Santos fists are tightening. He knows this could get ugly. “Alright children, focus. We are not here to beat each other up. Remember? This is about the Faction.”
Renee steps in between them and deflects Leanne away. “Come on. You need to quit making enemies wherever you go. This is our last chance at hope. You fuck this up, and we’re on the run forever.”
“What are you, my mother?”
“Maybe I need to be. I don’t wanna, but you need someone to keep you in check.”
Leanne scoffs at the thought as she returns her focus to the desk.
A chuckle slips from Oscar as he wanders behind the crowd. Jardiel can tell he has plenty of sarcasm to add to the moment and gives him a stare to check his comments.
“So, what about you Ms. Escobar? Are you in?”
“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a killer, if that’s what you’re asking. But I will do what I can. All I know is the Faction is the greatest threat in my life right now. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Everyone here has a purpose. If you can offer a skill that’s useful that doesn’t include death, so be it. But know this…at some point you will be challenged with life and death. Prepare your mind and your body will follow.”
Renee just nods in understanding.
A sharp slap on the shoulder from Santos jars her deep thought of the comment. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll show you how to fight fast and dirty.”
Leanne just shakes her head again at his alpha mentality. “And when your done dicking around with him, I’ll show you how to kill without a fight.”
Jardiel slams his fist down on the table with authority. The power from his booming hit and deep anger brings the warehouse to a silence. “Now stop! Everyone shut the fuck up and listen. We have an assignment to discuss.”
Santos whispers to the table with a sheepish tone. “Sorry boss. No disrespect.”
“Fine. So, the target in question is Sanchez DeMarco.”
A gasp of surprise slips from Oscar as he stops his pacing. “Seriously? Your gonna send these unproven women up against him, of all people?”
“Yes. I think they are perfect for the job.”
“Damn. That’s one fucked up dude. He gets off on torturing people well past them spilling any information. I swear, that guy would give up his day job of human trafficking and extortion if he could torture people all day.”
CHAPTER:
SET THE TABLE
The file folder hits the table and flips open to a grainy shot of a man in a t-shirt and military cargo pants. A thin manicured moustache and dark eyes hide under the shade of a straw cowboy hat. Jardiel thumbs through the paperwork as both Leanne and Renee lean in to see the file and the collection of photos.
“This is your first task. This puta cabron needs to be removed from the planet. This is one hell of a class act to get your feet wet with.”
Leanne paws over the intel and points to a weakness. “Look, right here…he likes his security to all look the same. Easy pickin’s. Does he like women?”
Jardiel just looks to Santos with an inside knowledge too dark to mention. “Let’s just say he likes girls who fight back, he’s a sadist. But whatever you do, don’t get into a fist fight with him. He will kill you.”
Oscar boasts again as he bangs his finger on the picture. “The last I heard, this fucker knows kung fu or some shit. He’s got a rep on the streets as one fast ass kicker. I tell you what, under that shirt are maniacal tat’s of dark death honor bullshit. Like old torture methods in action.”
Jardiel drops his shoulders in dismay. “OC, will you please just leave. You’re not helping.”
“Sorry boss. I don’t want them to take this prick lightly. That’s all.”
“Yeah, we get that. Let me do my job, you do yours.”
As Oscar leaves out the door, Jardiel apologizes. “Hey, don’t let that street rep shit get in your head. That’s how they manipulate the locals. Through fear mongering. Trust me, he will never see you coming. He looks down on women as inferior property. He will not have his guard up with you.”
Leanne studies his picture with a smile of violence. “Good. It will feel so nice to watch him die questioning everything he knows.”
“Now easy there Leanne, never underestimate your opponent. If he reads your body language as a threat, you won’t see him coming either. It goes both ways.”
…
“This right here is his night club. Its full of locals that are on the faction side, and tourists. You can’t burn the place to the ground, this needs to look like a sneaky kill. We need the element of disruption to sift through upper management. I want them to rethink how security is done. This might just open a window of opportunity for us to get a mole inside their detail.”
Jardiel raises his stare to Leanne as he mentions the mole. His eyes search for a flinch or tell. Leanne can feel the heat pour on as she waits for more information. “So how do we get in?”
“Your face needs to change. The faction has your likeness on every kill list from here to Mexico City. I’m talking complete transformation.”
Renee looks Leanne from top to bottom. “Yeah, we can do that. But what do I do?”
“You’re going in with her. They don’t know your face. I need you to be the diversion. Keep his attention on you and let Leanne blend into the background.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not some covert infiltrator. This is a suicide mission.”
“We don’t need you to be an infiltrator. We need you to be everything this guy likes to manipulate.”
Leanne nods her head. She gets it. Renee will be the plastic duck bobbing around in the lake. She will be the hunter hidden in the weeds. A soft comforting hand on Renee’s shoulder signals that there is work to be done. Jardiel lowers his tone and directs a specific question to Renee. “Do you understand what I mean when I say… you need to be a cleaner”?
Renee holds a dumbfounded face while Leanne just smiles. “No. what do you mean?”
“A cleaner is someone who cleans the problem. They come in and eliminate all the loose ends that could create a situation if left unchecked.”
…?
Leanne boasts her knowledge in the most inappropriate way. “We fucking kill everyone that sees or knows anything. Yeah, count me in.”
“So, where do you draw a line in this…cleaning?”
“The line is, if they’re still breathing, you’re not done working.”
Jardiel just smiles a sinister stare into Renee’s eyes. The scars tell the tale of a man that has done exactly what he is asking her to do. “You’ll become a Sicario. A ghost. Ruthless. Haunting. Vengeful in every way.”
Leanne just shrugs off the wild request as if it’s another day at the office. “Don’t worry, I’ll show her how it’s done.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re too much of a loose cannon. A diablo in stretch pants. I need this one to be more… reserved. She needs to keep you in check.”
“Shit. I don’t need anyone to watch over me. I can get the job done without any rules.”
“Yes. I am aware of this…flaw.”
Leanne scoffs at the comment but quickly retracts her insubordination. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you.”
Jardiel just grits his teeth at her defiance. “I swear to you, if you get out of hand, I’ll peel your eyelids off and make you eat them. Watch your tongue chica.”
His cold comment reverberates through both ladies’ heads as he rises from his chair.
Renee still shows signs of apprehension as Leanne quick steps to the door. “Come on. Let me show you a few things.”
Jardiel grabs Renee by the arm and holds her from leaving as he waves out the door to Leanne. “You go ahead. I need to talk to her, alone.”
As the door to the hallway closes, Jardiel lowers his voice with an ominous tone. “Listen, if you want to live past this task, you need to agree to one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you feel that at any time that she is out of hand, and going to get you killed, you must kill her and get out. This is not something that can be debated. You must keep her in control. This woman is a weapon in the hands of a child with blood filled eyes. Nothing good will come from her if she gets reckless.”
“You expect me to control her? She is the reason I’m here.”
“And she will be your end if you follow instead of lead. The choice is yours. Just remember the faction’s first choice may not be to kill you.”
As Jardiel leads her through the rear door into the bar area he requests three cervesa’s and opens a toast to the inhabitants of the bar and tattoo shop. Oscar passes the beers to Renee and Leanne as Jardiel raises his bottle. “Gentlemen, I want to introduce you all to “Garrote” and “Mother”.
Both Leanne and Renee peer across the room as the surly group of hardened criminals raise their glasses and grunt in acceptance.
CHAPTER:
SANCHEZ DeMARCO
Outside the club both women sit in the car as they prepare for the task. Renee fidgets with her makeup as Leanne hikes her skirt up and checks a tiny Velcro storage attachment between her legs. Her face is chalky white with black highlights to her eyes. A distinct edgy euro- vibe with slick shaved neck, short hair and bold red lipstick. A pair of barb wire earrings dangle as she checks her outfit into place. The bold white leather dress leaves little to the imagination. The faint flesh tone cover-up hides the deepest bruises alongside the poorly designed tattoos that have gathered through the years. The fresh stitch and puffy skin of the stab wound in her back is a tender reminder of what’s at stake.
As she stares to the club from the driver seat, Renee is noticeably nervous. The flashing lights of neon pulse with the heavy bass notes inside. Her heart attempts to outrun the rhythmic tone. Leanne tries her best to focus Renee to the task at hand. “Just breathe. You know what to do. Go inside, order a drink, and scan the room. Keep your body busy. Don’t freeze. The security guards look for tense people.”
“I know, I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“If you feel like things are awkward, just look at your phone. Type in something girly. Look up butterflies or puppies. This will change your intensity. Don’t forget that I will be watching you.”
Renee bites her lips and clocks every move in the parking lot. “And what if something goes really wrong?”
“Then I’ll come rescue you. Simple as that.”
Renee turns off the car engine and slides the keys under the floor mat. A deep shaky sigh of indecision grabs her phone and closes the door. Her walk to the line outside is tentative at best.
Leanne grabs the small walkie talkie from the glove box and initiates the evening to Oscar. “Ok, I’m going in. Don’t let me down.”
“You’re covered out here. Just don’t get sloppy.”
She sneers at the comment as she closes the door and begins her transformation.
Through the waiting line and in the front door, she bumps and pries her way to the bar like royalty. “Tequila and cervesa, por favor.”
She slaps an American hundred down on the counter and requests a cigarette from the bartender. “Don’t let me get dry, understood?”
“Yes ma’am.”
With her arm bent in a fashion model pose, Leanne surveys the club. The strobe light pumps as the sea of bodies writhe and contort to the newest blend of techno and urban hip hop. Undistracted by the flash and pop of the seducing display, Leanne clocks the potential threats and layout of the situation. Four security guards, two bathrooms, staircase and long hallway. With a strut she mingles through the center of the dance floor to the opposing railing and pauses. Across the floor, next to the hallway, Renee is positioned against the railing with her head up and a margarita in hand. Good. She looks natural. Now where is Sanchez?
Her eyes slide over the crowd again and lock on the distant leather seating area in the corner. Aha. Two more guards. You dumb fucks are easy to spot.
In between two women and the guards, Sanchez sits in all his sleezy demeanor. Leanne begins the first signal to Renee. To the center of the floor Leanne bumps and gyrates with both hands in the air. A lock of eyes with Renee and Leanne bobs her pointed fingers to his location. Renee points to the air and gives out a loud whoop as she bobs her head to the beat. Signal read loud and clear. Renee spins from her spot and slowly walks to the nearest wall with a view of Sanchez. Both ladies that flank him are overly grabby as he keeps watch over his domain. Now, the waiting game begins.
As the clock ticks by Renee deals with random men that approach her with pick-up lines and masculine moves. Her resistance to their charms is one of will and focus. A shift of the security guards that protect the table leads to both amorous women leaving the table and head towards the bathrooms. Renee spots the moment and scans for Leanne in a panic. As both women approach, Renee gives up on her search and steps in front of the women with accidental force. The collision is awkward as Renee spills her margarita to the floor. “What the fuck???”
“Watch where you’re going bitch!”
Renee grits her teeth and leans in nose to nose with one woman. “You better back the fuck up or I’m gonna shove your head up her ass.”
The arrogant woman reaches forward to shove her. In a smooth precise move, Renee grabs her arm, pulls her past and raises her elbow to connect with her face. The second woman reacts and grabs Renee by the hair and doubles her fist. As the white knuckles approach, Renee drops her face to expose her forehead. The fancy manicured fingernails of the woman bury in her own hand as the solid crunch of skull is more than she expected. As she doubles in pain to her broken fingers and throbbing wrist, Renee pulls back, and open palm slaps her with force and energy. The impact sends the second woman crashing into another groups table. With a furious grin, Renee smiles as the embarrassing tumble amuses her. As fast as the enjoyment arrives, it quickly departs as an unexpected hand grabs her by the throat from behind. Renee spins to see the first woman back on attack. A quick two hand grip on the extended arm twists to remove the hand. Renee plants her right foot in front of the other woman’s and pulls with all her might. The trip and stumble puts the first woman on top of the second under the collapsed table. “I fucking warned you bitch!”
Across the dance floor within sight of the event, Leanne smiles with pride. The limited training has worked. The plan is in play.
The scuffle of Sanchez’s women in trouble brings both security guards to detain Renee and assist the women up from under the table. Blood runs across their faces as the public beating has left its mark. The pair of thick hard hands begin to yank Renee toward the rear of the club when Sanchez stops the trip. “You got quite the attitude on you missy. What’s your name?”
“Mother Theresa.”
“Oh yeah?”
His smirk to her sarcasm is followed with a harsh backhand across her face. A short yelp of pain hunches Renee over as the guards hold her in place.
“Take her up to the office.”
A loud scream from the crowd of onlookers brings Leanne front and center. “What the hell are you doing to my woman?”
“Your woman?”
“Yea, my woman. You best get your hands off her.”
“Bitch, do you know who I am?”
“Nope. Don’t care neither.”
“I fucking own this place, and everyone in it.”
Leanne laughs in his face as she tries to slip past him to save Renee. Sanchez snatches her arm and pulls her close to his face.
“You’re kinda gutsy chica. I think we need to talk somewhere quieter.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“You don’t get that choice.”
As Sanchez yanks her toward the stairs to the office, Leanne reaches her free hand down between her legs and reaches for the syringe to free it from its storage. Timing is crucial now, plan the perfect moment. Just inside as the doors close. That will put Renee, two guards and her in one room. Sanchez will get the injection and be on his way to the floor when it all goes down.
Ten seconds away. Steady now… Nine. eight, seven….??
A harsh tone from inside the room at the top of the stairs gives Leanne a shudder of heat. “What the fuck, Sanchez? Where the hell did you find this one?”
Leanne’s eyes fill with rage. Inside the double door opening at the top of the stairs is a scarred and disfigured man leaning on a crutch with a martini in one hand and a small bandage over his ear. The club music disappears. The flashing strobe lights shrink away. Leanne snaps into a cold sweat as Sanchez chuckles and continues to push and pull Leanne toward the double doors. “These two started some shit with my girls. We’re all gonna sit down and talk this out like adults.”
“Well, I fucking recognize this one right here. She’s my old neighbor before the house blew up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Kinda a funny coincidence, don’t you think?” The disfigured man leans in hard to stare at Renee as she is pulled inside. “Remember me bitch?”
“Yeah, sure. I thought you were dead.”
“It will take more than that to kill me.”
“Bummer.”
The harsh bit of sarcasm hits him just right as he tosses his martini in her face. “Hey senor, I don’t like this. Not one bit.”
“Relax Buret, your pills have you wound too tight.”
The mere sound of his name being mentioned gives Leanne a shiver of pure adrenaline. Her temperature spikes as her fists turn white with fury.
“And who the fuck is that?”
“Apparently this one’s girlfriend.”
As Sanchez crosses the doorway inside, Buret leans in to give Leanne a good look. “She looks kinda freakish. Too much makeup. I bet she’s a fuckin’ dominatrix.”
Sanchez chuckles as he tosses Renee to the sofa. Two guards glare intently at her as the door close them in the room.
The office has a creepy feel to it as Renee looks the walls over. A jungle motif floods her senses as horns, heads and skins decorate most of the open space. Centering the room, a double pane window and an end table with an ornate table lamp with buffalo skin shade.
Members of an anti-cartel group find themselves in a journey they never saw coming. What once was another day of righting wrongs and a struggle to survive the harsh realities of a drug focused environment, turn to something even more sinister. The end of humanity as they know it. This is the story that carries the weight of each move toward justice to become cloudy with doubt and the relentless erosion of life. The apocalyptic event of the sun burst of plasma and devastating EMP waves knock the world and these poor souls back on their heels. A time for judgement and self-doubt emerges as the cartel seizes the opportunity to run roughshod across the land. Each character must put aside their own personal objectives and work together if they have any desire to live past tomorrow. Welcome to the Sombra Negra. Former paramilitary, Policia, farmers and civilians that are bonded by tragedies and unspeakable acts, work as resistance to an ever-growing force of evil. The blinding path of revenge is hazy. Don’t blink. They’re watching.
The bustle of shoes sift by as a woman exits the orange juice shop with her two children in tow. The bright sunlight glows the airport boarding zone and seating area as she plops down in the red canvas chair.
"Mom, what time is it?”
“We have another twenty minutes. Just relax. Dad will be here soon.”
Young Jordan shifts in her seat as she stares out the window at the runway planes taxiing in and out of the Albuquerque sunport. Stuck in between both her mother and older brother, she twiddles her thumbs as they are glued to their cell phones.
“Mom, can I go buy a book or something? I’m bored.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have got in trouble now should you? You would still have your phone. This is the effect of your mistake.”
“But mom…”
“Not my problem.”
Jordan crosses her arms as her frown is evident. “So, can I?”
“I guess so. Anything but a trashy magazine. You got me?”
“Yes mother.”
Betsy reaches into her wallet and hands Jordan a twenty-dollar bill as she looks up at the flight arrivals and departures board. “Take your brother with you. I don’t want you wandering around alone.”
As she returns her eyes to her phone, she can see a pair of legs position themselves in front of her.
“Can I grab something too?”
Betsy drops her arms in defeat as she peers up to her son’s puppy dog eyes. “I’m betting you’re not going to buy a book, huh?”
“Nope. I need new earbuds.”
Sigh. “Fine. Only if you can promise me that you’ll keep them in one piece for more than a week.”
“I can try.”
The smirk on Adam’s face is one of attempted honesty.
As both kids dart off into the local shop, Betsy takes a long look about the long corridors of busy travelers. Suitcases roll as the blur of chatter echoes amongst the tapping and shuffle of feet. Overhead the seating area clusters of televisions broadcast different channels of information. She tries to focus her hearing to the discussion of the moment but the static noise from some televisions distorts the topic.
That’s odd. Two of the channels are color bars. You would think someone would change the channel.
A squint towards the corner store gives a glimpse of the kids moving about grazing over the options. Money in hand will be spent. That’s never the question. The question is how they will get rid of every last cent. Her eyes return to her phone as a new email pops up. Another sales ad from a popular clothing site is advertising 20% off with free shipping. “Nope. Don’t need anything. Thanks.”
She swipes to delete the message when her phone goes completely blank. Another quick swipe, button push and a shake gives nothing in return. Betsy tilts her phone and holds the power button down as a collective groan emanates from the airport halls. The early morning hour is so bright with sunlight that the fact the airport lost power takes its time to connect with the various people.
A pair of men in overalls rush past seemingly on a mission to resolve the power loss as a hush rolls over the crowd.
“Well, this isn’t good.” A man in a well-dressed suit mutters as he brushes past a family and heads to the check in desk.
A surreal moment tingles Betsy as her thoughts move to her children. To her feet she searches the sight-lines for both Adam and Jordan. Where are they? Dammit.
The silence inside the airport begins to crack as worried travelers begin to question the problem with anyone employed within the glass structured building.
A loud thud snaps a chill through the air as a store worker accidentally slips his grip on a rolling security grill. The stores are locking things down to prevent chaotic theft during the power loss.
Inside the bookstore a crowd forms at checkout as the people clamor to exit with their purchases.
A tiny glimpse of Adam in line gives Betsy a pause of relief. No doubt Jordan is next to him.
Outside she can see all the runway support vehicles are stationary. Ground crews scurry about in a panic. What is going on? Why are they all running around?
A lady in a official airline uniform steps up on a chair and tries her best to answer the myriad of questions that are flooding the staff. “Yes, I know. Hang on. If I can have your attention. As of right now we don’t know exactly what has happened, but we are doing the best we can to solve the power outage. If everyone can remain calm, we will get everything back on track as soon as possible. Thank you.”
“But what about our flights!”
“Are the planes ok?”
The same lady now down to the carpet area is now under even more scrutiny as the crowd gathers. “Like I said, I don’t know what is going on any more than you do. We have professional crews that are well trained to handle this situation. As soon as they can, this will all be fixed. Please be patient.”
The footsteps in the hallway have gained momentum as a frantic energy builds. The polite society is turning sour as suitcases clash and personal spaces break down.
“Adam! Where’s your sister?”
“She’s right here ma. I got her.”
“Get back over here.”
Adam now has Jordan’s hand as they maze their way through the doorway and exit the store. The speed of human traffic out front is gaining as Adam steps from one hole to the next in his attempt to cross. Midway across the stream of humanity an urgent family clips Jordan’s heel as she tumbles to the floor. Her newly purchased book flies out to the polished floor and is kicked by the heavy traffic. The cry of shock spikes above the intense chatter as Betsy charges out to rescue her child.
“My book! Mommy, I lost my book!”
With her elbows up, Betsy protects her daughter as they slip past the stream and return to the seating area. “Are you ok?”
“Somebody stepped on my hand and my elbow hurts.”
“I’m sorry darling, people can be so inconsiderate.”
“I lost my book.”
Adam has his eyes on the floor when all of a sudden he perks up. “I see it!”
He darts off over and around several sets of seats and dives under a chair.
“Adam, get back here. Don’t worry about it.”
A hand with a torn book shoots up above the chair line with excitement, “I got it!”
“You see, your brother does care about you.”
“Pffft. Yeah. Sometimes more than others.”
In the hills that guide road travelers to the city of Albuquerque, an oasis springs up. Outsiders who witnessed the event are given a world they always wanted. Quiet. Alone. Simple. Off the grid just became the standard. No longer do the tourists bother, the static of business is gone. The tentacles of commercialism will never return.
Down below in the city streets, the population will eat itself. This will not be our problem. They chose their fate.
But how long will it last? Darkness goes where it wants. It consumes everything including the hearts and minds of the innocent. Stay unified, no matter what. Sounds easy. What could go wrong?
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The north gates open to the sound of men arriving. The heavy footsteps and clank of collectibles carries another inspection and item separation. Now stripped of weapons and items, the scouting party ducks inside the cantina to decompress and cool off. Some sprawl across the cool concrete floor while others wipe down with wet towels and shed their boots. The scourge of the city is not for the timid or weak. The heated meetings with survivors add on to the pressure of the sun beating down on them every step of the way. Eduardo Cortes rips his boots off and tosses them aside as he drops to the floor. His core temperature is at his limit as he closes his eyes. The cool bottle of water in hand is half gone as he holds it to his forehead. A collective sigh amongst the men is understood. Rest is needed.
The moment is short lived. A solid strike of boot to Eduardo’s feet startle him from his relaxing state.
“What is it?”
“Boss wants to see you in his office.”
“Now?”
“Yes now.”
“Well, fuck me. I just got back.”
The guard shows zero sympathies as he waits.
Across the fairgrounds Eduardo trods his way to the meeting. His gait is one of exhaustion. As the French doors open, both Zombie and Rico sit with drinks in hand and smiles on their faces.
“Eduardo, come in come in. How was the search?”
“It was ok.”
“Just ok? I heard you found weapons, jewelry, food and…*ahem*…sex toys. Bravo my good man!”
“Yeah i did. It was all to please you sir. I know there are somethings you just gotta have and I took it upon myself to bring them back.”
Rico just sits there in his seat with a flat face and quietly applauds the return. The mixed signal between the two bosses confuses Eduardo.
Zombie springs to his feet, slides around his desk to approach Eduardo and wraps an arm around him. “You look a bit warm. Do you want a drink? Scotch perhaps?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Well my good man, I don’t think that expresses my appreciation enough. Take a walk with me. Let’s talk about dinner.”
All three men move back across the fairgrounds and enter the kitchen to greet the two butchers in full smocks and shields. The disturbing image sets Eduardo back. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, I just told them to be ready to prepare your dinner, that’s all. Come on, follow me downstairs.”
Eduardo’s eyes are wide. He has never seen the inner working of the kitchen let alone the cellar. These things had zero interest to him. Just because you like hamburgers doesn’t mean you want to meet the cow first.
The lower they move down the stairs, the cooler the air becomes. From one end of the room to the other, slabs of meat dangle from the ceiling. Long hooks attached to dog cables anchor to the rafters. The smell is intense of pepper, lemon, ginger and salt. So much that his eyes burn from the fume. The radical departure of vivid sunlight to the dark cellar puts his attention to a frenzy. So much to take in, his pupils expand beyond normal and his stomach bubbles bile up his throat.
Mr. Zombie retracts his arm from Eduardo and waves his arm around the space in pride. “You’re gonna get your pick of meat for dinner tonight. Whatever your desire. Ribs, thighs, whole leg perhaps? We have an excellent selection of Cajun seasoned cheeks and rump if you like.”
A slight rub of elbow from Zombie to Eduardo with a smirk, leads his comment. “Hell, I might even throw in some noodles if the ladies are pleased with the toys.”
Rico is directly behind Eduardo as Zombie explains the meats hanging on the racks. “And over here…we have an empty hook waiting just for you, you FUCK!”
“Wha??”
Eduardo’s stumble backward is short as Rico shoves him back toward Zombie.
“That’s right. You’re going on the grill tonight. You fucking lied to me. Those teeth you collected were from Donovan. You never made the kill.”
“But…”
“To top it off, you fucked one of my slaves as a reward. Now I find this out? You pinche cabron, no one lies to me and lives.”
As Eduardo tries to dart away from the ensemble of men, Rico kneecaps him with a knock mallet. “Ahhhh, no Mr. Zombie, it’s not like that…I can fix this.”
“It’s too late cabron. I need to taste you. The first piece I get is your lying tongue. Soft, juicy, with a tang of deception.”
As shackles are placed on his hands and feet, Eduardo refuses to relent. Mr. Zombie snatches the knocker from Rico and pops Eduardo at his jaw joint, breaking his jaw. With an open mouth, a pair of forceps extend his tongue out and a pair of snippers clip it from his bleeding mouth. The gurgles of pain bubble out of his lungs as Zombie inspects his prize. Spasms of drowning flop Eduardo as the moans of pain build.
The small butcher holding Eduardo still, begins to collapse from the weight until Eduardo is flat on the floor and motionless. “Sir, I think he’s dead. I think he drown in his own blood.”
“That’s fine. I was done listening to him. Prepare the body. I want him on the grill tonight.”
The small butcher gasps at his instant reaction then pauses. “Ah, sir. We have plenty of aging meat that should be served first.”
The stare from Mr. Zombie says everything he needs to know.
“Yes sir. I’m on it.”
This is the culmination of everything. The collision of dark forces and righteous survivors in the final act of attrition. Pure loss. Pure hated. Pure sacrifice. The decisions that will ring out in history for all to speak of. The good and the bad. Against mounting odds and evil behind every corner, multiple sides will clash leaving no stone unaffected. These moments will be remembered as not how we got here, but what humanity has become. The monster is no longer under the bed. He is no longer in your head. The monster is outside your door and here to collect your heart.
This will not have a happy ending.