Pain flared in my shoulder and spread like wildfire across my body until it completely engulfed me. My muscles clenched in a powerful spasm. My back arched and my limbs shot out. My eyelids snapped open. I was unable to focus on or comprehend the room around me. A blurry form reached out and pressed a short stick into the dog bite on my shoulder. Volts of electricity blasted through me, blowing out my circuitry as it roared across every nerve ending. The wave passed, leaving me limp. I could taste the salty iron of blood in my mouth where I had bitten a small chunk out of my tongue.
Somewhere in the blurred fog around me, I heard a man speaking Russian. An ugly pockmarked face leaned in close to my face. “You are who?”
I opened my mouth, to plead, to beg, to cajole, whatever it would take to make the pain stop. But I was betrayed by my gut, instead of words — a nicely chunky spray of vomit spewed.
“Vali otsyuda!” He jammed the cattle prod into my shoulder, but before he could trigger the jolt, he was pulled away by a second form. In the shadows, a guttural Slavic argument bounced off the walls. Focus was returning. Out of the mess, a barn or garage formed around me. I was strapped down on a work bench. On a peg board, power drills, saws and hammers rested, waiting to be put to bad use.
“It’s for you.” A furry man in a blue satin jogging suit pressed a cell phone to my face.
“Mr. McGuire, you have outlived my expectations.” The voice was dry, Russian and void of any human emotion. The old man in the white room. I should have killed him when I had the chance. “However, you have now outrun your expiration date. I now have one last offer to make you, the man whose home you have defiled has asked permission to exact retribution, slow, painful retribution. Apparently, you brought on the early demise of his beloved pet. And here is where the offer comes in, pay close attention. Tell me where I can find Anya and I will command Kolya to execute a swift end to your life.” I could hear his breath as he waited for me to reply.
“Suck… my… dick,” I mumbled as clearly as I could muster. The fur-ball in satin slapped me across the face. He spoke quickly into the phone, then snapped it closed and sent his pockmarked lackey out of the room.
“If your Armenian is out there, Zhenya will find him.” Picking up a rusted hacksaw, Kolya toyed with it. Running his thumb lightly down the blade, he looked me over like a butcher appraising a side of beef. “The boss doesn’t think pain will loosen your tongue. Is he correct?”
I had learned in prison to relax my face muscles, regardless of the storm in my head. A neutral face showed no fear. He might kill me but I wasn’t about to show him I cared one way or the other.
“I think maybe I will kill two birds with one blunt object.” From his pocket he took a small pillbox. “Do you know what is the great motivator? Not fear, no. Guilt. Pain fades and must be re-administered. Guilt can break a person for life.” Grabbing my jaw he forced my mouth open. Like you would an animal, he tossed several pills into my mouth, he chased them with a bottle of vodka upended past my lips. Glass smacked against teeth. My throat shut down. Short stubby fingers clamped onto my nostrils, I had to drink or drown.
The quart was halfway down when he pulled it away. Sputtering, I struggled to fill my lungs. The neck of the bottle cut my lip against my teeth as he shoved the bottle back in my mouth. Drink or drown.
Dropping the empty bottle, he looked at me and let out a small laugh. “Think of this as your last meal. Vodka, what more could a man ask for?” I was brain fucked. Searching for some bullshit comeback line. But he was gone. I was alone, me, my fear and whatever pill he gave me. That and the vodka. I wished it didn’t feel so good. But it did. That familiar glow, that everything-will-be-fine sensation. I knew it was a whore’s promise, but one my body was fighting to accept. Warm cotton candy wrapped itself around my pain and told it to go home, come again some other day. Somewhere in another country, men shouted in Russian. The rusting blade of a jigsaw came in and out of focus.
I am quiet. I wait. I hunt. I watch as the large American drops out of sight. I move around the perimeter. I hear a dog attack. I hear men moving. His problem. Below us a body moves. Only a glimpse. We are being hunted from below. I drop, silent. Hide behind an outcropping. I watch. I wait. Nothing. Someone is coming up from the valley floor. I can feel them. But I am blind to their movements. They are good. I close my eyes and flare a match to life. I feel my way to light a cigarette. I blow the match out. My eyes need no adjustment. I drop the cigarette. A hundred yards below something shiny twinkles. A rifle sight. It will take him time to find me.
Fuck. I fought to free my arms. Fuck. My heart was starting to race unnaturally fast. I fought to slow my pulse but it was a runaway train. Loopy thoughts crowded for attention. What was her name? The Ukrainian assassin, I could see her cards, but the name?
Thump thump.
Fuck, I was going to die.
Thump thump thump.
Angel, I wanted my dog.
Thump thump thump thump. My fucking heart was pounding like a pile driver. The throbbing in my temples climbed on top of the vodka and reminded me I’d been hit in the head with a shovel.
Time went sideways. Where the fuck had all the sweat come from? Beads rolled off my face, stinging my eyes. The furry little fireplug swam out of the shadows. His pockmarked pal was grinning down at me. Mikayla. That was her name and she hadn’t slit his ugly throat. I was well and truly fucked. Someone started laughing, high pitched and sad. It was me.
Nika lay alone in the dark. They had moved her into a small bare room. On the cold tiles, she lay without the comfort of a pillow or blanket. Her self-imposed fast had driven her into a soft madness. She could no longer remember why she had refused to go with the other girls, only that she couldn’t give in. She had made her peace with the fact that she would die on this cold floor. Whatever she had hoped or dreamed for in her life was now never going to happen. Oddly, she had come to be ok with this fact. She could see how silly her dream of being a star in America was. She was sorry that she would never see Anya again, but it was how it worked out. Fate had given her thirteen years and that would have to be enough.
A dog choker pinched my throat. Pockmark pushed his pistol into the base of my skull, yanking the chain at the same time. The floor felt rubbery and the walls kept tilting on me. Keep moving. Stumble and this twat will kill you. And thump thump thump my rapid-fire heart. Was I dreaming or did I have a raging erection? No. Not dreaming. It was hurting as it tried to explode the seams of my jeans. What the fuck? Really. What the fuck was happening?
From the hallway outside, she heard footsteps coming towards her, then the key in the large old lock. Light flooded in, hurting her eyes. Looking up, she saw a tall man filling the doorway. The huge man swayed as if he might fall over at any moment. With his wild red-blonde hair and beard, he looked to her like a wounded Viking berserker.
A party dress rag doll lay on the floor. Eyes open, looking up at me. Fawn eyes, caught in the headlights, more animal than human. A wave rolled across the floor, almost toppling me. I grabbed the doorjamb to keep from going down.
“This is what you came for, no?” Kolya’s voice traveled from miles away. I could feel his breath on my ear. The rag doll scrabbled away pinning her back against the wall.
“I don’t know why you have gone to so much trouble. She refuses to fuck. And what good is a pussy that won’t fuck?” The girl pressed her face into the wall. Kolya grabbed a handful of her tangled hair and dragged her to my feet. Tugging her hair back, he forced her face up. This is no rag doll. She is a beautiful child. The sound of her dress ripping exploded like thunder. I wanted to close my eyes, not have her see me leering at her young body. But I couldn’t.
“This one, she needs a good fucking, and you, well you look ready to help out.” He was looking down at the clear bulge in my jeans. I wasn’t a pedophile. I didn’t fuck children. But apparently my cock did. I hated the way it felt, blood-filled and ready. Hated that any part of me could want to fuck this child.
The girl looked out at me, her eyes pleading. Bile backed up into my throat, I was close to puking. Even in the face of that, the spinning room and the wanting to puke, the betrayer in my jeans throbbed out a rhythmic pulse. I leaned forward, forcing the chain tight, hoping to choke.
“You don’t look happy. Are you a faggot? You take this little bitch, or tell me where the big sister is hiding. Like god, I have given you free choice.” The sick bastard was enjoying this. Slowly I shook my head, the room spun slowly with the motion.
Kolya knelt down, a pair of wire cutters in his hand. “You don’t care if I hurt you, but what about her?”
“Don’t.” The choke chain turned my voice into a rasp.
“Don’t what? This?” One moment he was reaching for the girl’s foot and next she was screaming. Blood rushed from the stub that had been her little toe. He picked up the amputated toe and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.
I charged in blind rage, but I only took two steps before the chain ripped me back. My feet skittered out from under me and I went down. Pockmark pinned me under his boot, pressing my face to the floor with a revolver barrel. Kolya wrapped a handkerchief around the squirming girl’s stump. Grabbing a fresh toe, he looked over at me, “I hope you will be a man before I get to her fingers.”
“Stop. I know where Anya is…”
“No!” Nika yelled through her tears. “Please. Don’t. Look at me. We are dead. Don’t kill my sister too. I want you to have me. Not one of these fat pigs.” Cries became whimpers, “Please take me… I want you… please…” She reached a hand toward me, pleading. Kolya released her foot, he had finally broken her. He looked down at her with pride in a job well done.
“Then it’s decided,” he said. “She wants you to have her precious cherry, to save her whore sister. How fucking sweet, no?”
Nika’s eyes locked on mine, they begged me to do this thing. I was a dead man. But if they saw her comply, she would live. Dead whores earn no cash. That was the only hope I could find in this ugly mess.
“Bring him,” Kolya snapped. Pockmark walked me, crawling like a dog on a tight leash until I was almost on top of the girl.
Something has gone wrong in the hacienda. A man, a flashlight, searches from above. A light beam cuts through the surrounding brush. It’s been thirty-four minutes since they took the big American. I doubt he is still alive. The hunter from below still stalks my moves. I have doubled back twice and not lost or caught him. Whoever he is, he is good enough to kill me. Dead, I do no good. Trapped between the two. I crawl up the hill. I stay on my belly. I move towards the moving light. He is overweight. He has a child’s face. He has a machine pistol in his hand. When he turns away from me, I move. Springing out, I stand. I swing the razor. He turns. Instead of jugular I slice chunk of neck meat, severing his tendon. His head flops to the left. He lets out a scream. I swing again. He uses the gun as a shield, blocking the blade. My left hand pulls the hunting knife from my belt. I bury it in his back. His scream becomes a death wail. He drops the gun. The razor slices through his throat, quieting his scream to a gurgle.
Somewhere beyond the walls I hear an inhuman scream. “No rescue coming. That will be your boy dying. Now get to the fucking before I get bored and shoot you both.”
Fumbling, I unzipped my pants. My eyes stayed locked on the girl’s. She opened her legs as I climbed on top of her. Her eyes dilated when she felt the tip of my penis brush against her pubic hair. Pockmark had his boot on my ass, and he was starting to laugh and chatter in Russian. I wanted to tell her nothing real could ever be taken from her. But I know that was a lie. Pockmark pushed down, forcing me into her. The girl let out a stifled cry. As I felt myself entering this dry unprepared child, something snapped deep inside my soul.
Driving my fist down, I arched my back and swung up. The motion knocked the boot off me, as Pockmark stumbled I grabbed the chain around my neck and yanked him toward me. Rolling to the left, I pulled him down onto me. His pistol clattered from his hand. Grabbing his ears, I twisted and turned over, landing on top of him. With his ears firmly held, I drove his head down onto the cold tiles. He screamed. I screamed. I slammed his head down again, his skull made a sickening wet crunch. I couldn’t stop. Down went his head, he stopped screaming. His body twitched wildly. Blood and brains slopped from his skull as I continued to pound him into the floor. Somewhere in a distant world, I heard a gun cock. Dropping the ruined man’s head, I glanced up. Kolya was aiming a small automatic at my face.
A roar and flash filled the dim room. Kolya looked down, amazed at the blood draining from his chest. The second shot took him in the gut. His face went from surprise to rage. Then the third shot clipped his shoulder. He fell against the wall. Sliding down, he left a slick trail of blood. He looked down at the oozing blood, surprised, the possibility of being shot had never crossed his mind.
“You bitch, who do you think you are?”
Nika answered by emptying the pistol into his chest. He was dead before the gun clicked onto an empty chamber. She kept squeezing the trigger, clicking on spent shells. Taking the gun from her hand, I tossed it away. She didn’t see me, she was focused on something much farther than the small room could hold. Lifting the automatic that the dead man had dropped, I pulled the girl to her feet. She swayed weakly, her knees buckled. Slipping my arm under hers, I kept her standing. Adrenaline was doing a fair job of countering the booze. The room was still swimming, but I could navigate it. I closed one eye to keep my vision from doubling up on me.
“Where… are the others?” She looked at me, without comprehension. Her eyes rolled up and she went slack. Lifting her over my good shoulder, I dragged my gun hand along the wall for balance. I pushed into the hall. The house was still, in the living room I laid the girl down on a leather sofa. Slumping down beside her, I wanted to sleep, drift off and wake in my bed with Angel. Like a shark, I knew I had to keep moving or die. I didn’t know how many thugs were still alive in the hacienda.
Stumbling from room to room, I opened doors, but found no one waiting to kill me. In the back of the hacienda stood a thick oak door, it was locked, when I rattled the knob I could hear soft voices. Leaning back, I kicked the door, it bowed and cracked but held tight. I bounced backward. Hitting the far wall, I stumbled down onto the tile.
From inside, a girl cried out. Squinting, I pulled the door into focus. A large key jutted from the lock. Dumb fuck. I turned the lock and opened the door. A plump older woman stood in front of three frightened girls, she looked like a tarted up mother hen.
“Kak dala?” The mother hen moved towards me.
“English.” I leveled the small pistol at her.
“Kolya will kill you.” Her eyes were flaming mad.
“He’s dead.” Her face dropped its anger as she started to panic.
“Oh, thank god. You have come to save us,” she said, her eyes darting around, looking for escape at the same moment she was trying to convince me she was happy about this new turn of events.
From the canyon beyond the house, a large caliber gun rumbled, one, two, three shots, then it was quiet. “Time to roll.” I pushed off from the jamb, motioning with the pistol for them to follow.
The mother hen led the girls after me. Picking Nika up off the sofa, her eyes drifted open. She looked around the room with a vacant dreamy gaze. I lifted her up over my shoulder. The floor buckled. I wanted to puke, but kept moving.
Passing through the kitchen, I stepped out into the courtyard. Nika’s body went stiff. Something behind us had scared her. I swung around to find the older woman running at me; she had a butcher knife up over her head. I fired without thinking. A small hole appeared between her eyes. She dropped like a sack of round soft rocks. The three girls stepped over her body without even looking down. Apparently none of them would shed a tear for the old bitch.
Headlights bounced up over the front gate and I could hear the throaty rumble of the Scout as it skidded to a stop.
Peter’s pupils were pinned. “Who the fuck are they?” he asked, looking at the small tribe of girls following me. Noticing my damage, he let out a small gasp. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Bad things.” Setting Nika in the back seat, I almost tumbled in on her. Righting myself I motioned the other girls into the back.
Peter looked at the still rock hard erection outlined in my jeans.
“They fucking doped me — Viagra… let’s roll.” The ground was pitching causing me to sway.
“You can’t drive.”
“Fuck you.” I slid in behind the wheel, turning the key, I ground the already running engine. “Where’s Mikayla?”
“Not with you?”
“I heard shots.”
“There were some flashes near the foot of the mountain, but I didn’t stop to check it out or anything. You said if I heard shots I should come to the house and that’s exactly what I did.” He was speaking so fast, I was amazed he didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen. Whoever had been firing was most likely still down there. I mashed the gas pedal, spinning the Scout into a dusty 360; we almost hit the front gate.
“I can’t drive.” Moving into the passenger seat, I let Peter take the wheel. We caught air flying off the ridge. Slamming down, he fought for control and almost took us off the road. The xenon lit a bright path down the dirt road. Slamming around a rutted curve, we sprayed dirt and rocks out behind us. Hitting the door, my shoulder screamed red pain.
Peter was concentrating like a fiend. Bouncing up over a bump the size of a tree trunk, I flew up, my head thumped up into the roof. I squealed. I didn’t ask him to slow down.
Coming off the hill, the valley spread before us. Pounding up out of a small gully I saw a dark figure in the middle of the road.
“STOP.” It was almost too late when I realized it was Mikayla. Locking up the brakes, the Scout fishtailed sideways, Peter fought the wheel to keep us from either rolling or hitting Mikayla. When we finally stopped moving, I saw her standing statue still, with dust settling down around her.
“Fuck this.” Peter jumped out, kicking dust, screaming into the night, “Fuck this. I didn’t sign on for this shit, no way, ask a few questions, get an interview, fine. Not this crap!”
Mikayla leaned in the window, ignoring Peter’s rant. Noticing the shaken but free girls in the back she came as close as she was capable of to smiling. Then she looked at my raggedy ass. “You are alive.”
“More or less,” I said.
“You drunk?”
“As a skunk.”
“Interesting choice.”
Headlights flared up behind us. Mikayla dove into the driver’s seat, dropping the hammer, the truck lurched forward. Peter had to run to keep from being left. He climbed in next to me as we took off.
Our new shadow was coming cross country, angling to meet up with us long before we could make the highway. I silently thanked Jason B for the heavy duty shocks as we flew across ruts deep enough to cripple any soccer mom’s SUV. The speedo swept up past sixty. Cactus and brush were brown and green blurs out the side window. In the back, the girls were screaming and crying, they must have thought I pulled them from the frying pan and dropped them smack down in the middle of hell.
Mikayla was pure cold concentration. The chick could drive, I’ll give her that. Out of the side window, I could see that we were making ground on the bouncing headlights. If she kept the speed up, we would be well ahead of him before he intersected the dirt track. Gold eyes glowed red in the headlights, a coyote crossed into our path. The small critter was frozen with fear. Mikayla wasn’t slowing. I grabbed the wheel and spun us to the left.
I had already killed one dog that day, I didn’t think my karma could handle another. Bumping off the road, the windshield filled with brown and green. We hit a barrel cactus with enough force to dent the center of the grille and hood. Steam started to geyser up from the ruptured radiator. Mikayla fought the wheel. We swiped a small manzanita and skidded back onto the road. The steering was pulling hard to the right, she was struggling to keep us on the road. The temp gauge started to climb towards the red line.
We were running out of options, there was no way the damaged Scout would outrun our pursuer. Grabbing the emergency brake, she locked the back tires; yanking the wheel to the right she spun us in a half circle. Releasing the brake she headed away from the highway, back towards the hills.
“What the hell are you doing?” Peter screamed. “The road home is back that way, you crazy…” Whatever else he said was lost in the high pitched whine screeching out of the engine. The temp gauge was locked firmly in the red as 454 cubic inches of blueprinted horsepower started to rip itself apart. The road twisted sharply up, heading back to the hacienda. Foul black smoke joined the steam billowing up over the windshield. Visibility was down to zero. Keeping us on the road was mostly guesswork. The only good news was that I had yet to see any headlights behind us.
Cresting the hill, Mikayla hit the brakes, misjudging by only a few feet. We slammed into the side of the adobe wall. My head bounced down onto the dash. “This fucking night…” I mumbled. Our cargo was well shaken but they all seemed to be able to move.
“There’s a van,” I slurred at Mikayla as we piled out of the ruined truck.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked as I pawed at his pocket, coming up with the small envelope.
I didn’t answer him.
Nika was moving, but weakly. Mikayla gently put an arm under hers and helped Peter get the girls into the courtyard.
On the Scout’s dashboard I dumped out what was left of Peter’s coke. Two fat lines brought my eyes back into focus. I rubbed the last of it into my shoulder wound. It burned like a mother when I touched it, but the coke did the job, laying a layer of numb over the ache.
The tranny was fucked, it took three tries to muscle it into reverse. Swinging it around, I aimed down the hill. Out across the valley floor, blurry headlights sped toward us. Giving it some gas, the Scout groaned and started to roll forward. It was clocking about thirty when I fell out.
The ground jumped up and smacked my face. I could taste dirt as I did a painful somersault.
The noble Scout swerved right as it bounced down the steep hill. It made it about a hundred feet before it hit a rock and started an end over end tumble. I didn’t wait to watch it come to rest. It didn’t look like I would be getting my deposit back from Jason B. But what the fuck, it didn’t seem likely I’d be alive long enough for him to collect the forty grand from me.
“Give me ten, then get them out of here.” My heart was doing triple time. The coke had joined the Viagra in its battle against the effects of the booze.
“He can’t drive.” Peter looked to Mikayla for support. She shrugged.
The keys had been under the sun visors of both the panel van and the black Mercedes. After loading the girls into the van, I dropped into the German luxury cruiser. “I’ll meet you at the plaza in Tecate.” My voice sounded distant and much clearer than it felt.
“I don’t think we will be seeing you,” Mikayla said.
I wanted to puke. I wanted to fight the world. I turned the key.