Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 02 - Death in the Dark (7 page)

“How are his cocks?” I asked.

Malina laughed.

After taking his bird to the referee who attached the spurs and sprayed the lime juice, Frito, cock in hand, faced the other owner. They pushed the birds at each other, who squawked and clawed at the air. The crowd leaned forward and there was a final rush to place bets. “Benito is there,” Malina said, tilting her head to our left. “Next to him is Adolfo, the young man. And his children too.” I scanned the crowded benches until I saw a big man with a paunch sitting next to a stone-faced youth his junior not only in years but in girth. Two boys on the cusp of puberty sat next to Benito, their faces lit up with excitement. Benito rested his arm on the closer boys shoulder and smiled down at him. In his other hand he held a half empty beer. Adolfo, the young man, leaned against his elder and said something into his ear. Benito nodded and pushed his chin toward the exit. Adolfo got up and worked his way through the crowd. I lost him as he disappeared into the sea of men and boys pressing toward the spectacle.

A cry went out and I looked up to see the sand floor kick up dust as the two cocks charged. They met in the middle, airborne, like Greek gladiators. Their legs kicked as their wings flapped behind them. The spurs sliced through flesh and feathers, gushing bright red blood on the ring’s dirt floor. The white bird lay still as the referee pulled the other cock off. It was over.

Money flapped between sweaty palms as bets were paid and collected. “It was so quick,” I said.

Malina nodded. “It often is.”

Frito stood looking down at his dead bird. The winner held his bird aloft, the man grinned broadly, his cheeks ruby. I turned back to Benito who sipped from his beer and smiled at the scene. His youngest boy leaned across and asked him something. Benito nodded his head and the youth hurried off into the crowd.

Adolfo returned, his face a mask. “That guy does not have much expression does he?” I asked Malina. She turned her attention from the ring and looked over at Adolfo.

“No, he is one without many words.”

“What’s his deal?”

“His deal?”

“His story. Like, who are his parents, where does he come from?”

“He is an orphan, since he was very young, I think. Follows Benito like a dog.”

“Does he partake at your club?”

“Only on occasion. The boy does not seem to be one for pleasure.”

Adolfo was saying something to Benito which was clearly making the older man upset. He shook his head, then shrugged his shoulder and nodded. Benito looked over at Frito and I followed his gaze. The handsome man was picking up the bird’s corpse; he tossed it over the side of the ring.

“I was once here with a customer,” Malina said. “He was from China and told me that in his country, it is considered a great honor to eat the dead bird. But here, we just throw them away.”

Benito caught Frito’s eye and he started toward him. Benito stood and said something to his son then handed him some bills. The boy smiled and pushed the money into his pocket. Frito joined Benito and Adolfo, all three men headed toward the exit.

Malina followed them, taking my hand. The air cooled as the press of the crowd eased. Outside we spotted the three men under a tree that looked like it was the only one for miles. All three men held cigarettes. Malina and I stood in the shadow of the tent and watched the burning embers move up and down with each drag.

“If I sneak around I think I can hear them,” Malina said, and then before I could respond she disappeared into the night. I stood still under the starless sky ensconced in shadow and watched the three murderers of Paty Vaquez. It took most of my will, and all of my might, to control the emotions roiling inside of me.

Benito, the sturdiest of the figures under the tree, dropped his cigarette to the ground and twisted it under his boot. The other two followed suit and started to move toward the parking lot. Silently Malina appeared by my side again. We watched as the killers climbed into an SUV. The headlights lit with the rumble of the engine and they pulled out past the games and rides toward the open desert.

“They have another girl,” Malina said. “They are holding her in some abandoned buildings outside of town. I know where it is.”

I nodded.

“We must help her,” Malina said, her voice high and anxious.

I looked around the parking lot. “We need a ride. A pickup would be best.”

“I do not know any taxis that are trucks.” She pulled out her phone. “I can call around.”

I shook my head. “That one will do,” I pointed to a black truck in a spot near the rear of the lot. Mud splatters proved its rugged nature and the rust that pattered its side panels made me think it wasn’t anybody’s baby.

“Ah, I see.” Malina looked around the lot suspiciously.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “Act natural. Come on.” I walked toward the truck like I owned it. Not that there were many witnesses to my stroll. The tent was packed and anyone outside was much more interested in the rides and games than our trip across the parking lot.

Approaching the driver’s side, I pulled on the door handle but the owner was smart enough to lock his doors. Malina went around to the passenger side and found another locked door. “What do we do?” she asked.

Old trucks like this you could usually pop with a simple wire hanger but I didn’t have one. “Does your bra have an underwire?” I asked Malina.

She sighed and I figured this was not the first time her undergarments had been used in the process of a crime. She was on the hidden side of the vehicle and with a couple of well-practiced moves, was out of her bra. I heard ripping and then she passed the thin wire over to me. One quick glance around to double-check no one had noticed our behavior and I slipped the wire between the window and the doorframe.

It took me about ten seconds to pop the lock. The click of success was a wonderful sound. Reminded me of an ill-spent youth. This was the first time I’d ever needed to steal a car. My skills were honed joyriding. What boredom will do to the teenage mind….

I climbed in and unlocked Malina’s door. She hopped in and smiled at me. “Now comes the hard part,” I said inspecting the ignition. “Any chance you have a screw driver in your drawers?”

Malina laughed. “No, but I have a nail file.”

I looked up to see her holding it. “Brilliant.” I used the nail file to get the truck going. Only one of the headlights worked and the thing smelled like sweat, meat sandwiches, and spilled beer but it was our ride and I was proud of myself for stealing her. I pulled out of the fair and headed back toward town.

“Turn left,” Malina said.

“I’ve got to pick up Blue first.”

“Okay,” Malina agreed. I pulled the aging pickup truck in front of the hotel and left it running while I ran in to grab Blue. He was excited to see me and happily jumped into the back of the pickup when I patted on the truck’s bed.

“Head back toward the fair,” Malina told me. I watched Blue enjoy the fresh air in my rearview mirror as we drove through the congested streets. However, once we were out of the city and picked up speed Blue laid down, becoming invisible to the world. “What will we do if we find them?” Malina asked.

“The important thing is to help the girl.”

“Yes, but how? There are three of them and two of us.”

“I’ve got a gun, a dog, and the element of surprise.”

“I’ve got a gun, too.”

I glanced over at her. “That’s good,” I said.

She nodded at me. “Thank you for your help.”

“Thank me if we survive, okay?”

Malina nodded.

Past the fair, the night engulfed the road. Malina pointed ahead. “Turn there.” I slowed down and pulled on to a rutted road which lead into the rocky hills that line the US/Mexican border. There was no sign of life as we bounced down the path.

Blue stayed low in the back and Malina clutched the door handle to steady herself. Up ahead the road cut between boulders. My visibility was shortened by the sharp turns so when I came around a bend and saw the SUV blocking the road I had to slam on my breaks. Our truck kicked up dust and pebbles as it slid to a stop.

I barely had time to register the figure running toward my open window when Blue launched himself onto it. They went down, Blue on top, the man under him screaming. Slamming the old truck into park, I opened my door and began to pull my gun when I saw Benito taking aim at Blue. It only took two steps to grab his arm and aim the gun toward the sky. He looked at me with rage-filled eyes.

A shot rang out into the night, the sound bouncing off the boulders around us. “Put it down!” Malina yelled. I struggled to maintain my hold on Benito’s gun. We were both clenching it. “Sydney, let it go or he’ll kill me,” Malina spoke again.

I turned to see her standing in front of the one working headlight of our truck. Adolfo was behind her, his thin frame shielded by her curves. He pressed a silver pistol to her temple. I saw his lips move in her hair. “Call off the dog and let Benito go,” Malina said through trembling lips.

Blue was holding Frito on the ground. Frito was yelling and with each new outburst of sound, Blue shook Frito’s gun arm again. The pistol lay in the dirt a few feet away from where they struggled. “Blue, Out!” I yelled, as I felt Benito gaining control over the gun. Blue’s eyes landed on my face and he hesitated for a moment. “Out!” Blue released Frito’s arm and, grabbing the fallen gun in his mouth, shot off between two boulders.

I stepped away from Benito letting him have the gun. He smiled and threw a punch at my face. Instinct made me knock it away and elbow him in the back of the head as the force of his would-be-blow sent him by me. Benito fell to his knees and Malina screamed.

I looked over to see Adolfo wrenching her head back. She gurgled as he forced the gun between her lips. Benito scrambled to his feet. “On your knees,” he said. Blue began to bark. Benito swiveled his head looking for him. “Shut that dog up,” he said, starting toward me. I held my hands up. He grabbed me by my collar. “Shut that dog up!”

“I can’t,” I said.

“I’ll kill you,” he said, placing his pistol at my temple.

“Look,” I started, “you can kill us now or you can take us some place nice and enjoy your time. Either way, that dog is not going to stop barking. So why don’t we all just take a drive in your SUV? Somewhere you can’t hear the dog and we can work this out.”

Benito laughed. “Work this out.” He let go of my shirt. Frito was struggling to rise and Benito went and grabbed his good arm hauling him up. “You are going to pay for this. You came here to kill us, no? You wanted justice.” He laughed again. “How could you think that we would not hear about you and your pathetic little plan?” He walked back over to me. Blue’s barks continued their steady rhythm. “What a fool.” I closed my eyes and let the blow come. It knocked me sideways. Benito followed that with a blow to the back of my head that dropped me to my knees. I hovered on the edge of consciousness for a moment before he hit me again and everything went black.

***

The pain preceded consciousness. Blinking my eyelids sent ripples of hurt across my face, around the back of my head, and down my neck into my shoulders. I heard myself groan.

Forcing my eyes open I tried to focus them. My chin was resting on my chest and I was looking down at my wrinkled linen shirt. Slowly I was able to make out the fabric’s grain. The splotches of blood dripping from my nose made me feel the itch of dried blood on my cheeks.

With a Herculean effort I lifted my head and tried to take in my surroundings. It appeared I was alone in a large, empty room with a high ceiling. There was a doorway in front of me pockmarked with holes and standing slightly ajar. Moonlight streamed through the opening’s landing onto a dusty, uneven wooden floor. There were two windows on either side of the door coated in dirt so thick I couldn’t see through them. I sat on a wooden chair with my wrists bound behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw I was wearing handcuffs. Looking down I saw that my ankles were chained to the chair legs. I took a deep breath and silently thanked Merl for all the times I’d woken up pinned to my bed. I gritted my teeth prepping for the excruciating and awkward pain. I struggled not to cry out as I slammed my thumb against the chair.

My hands free, I leaned over to inspect the chains that bound my ankles. These guys were either amateurs or had severely underestimated me. I stood up, my head spinning, and sat back down.

Reaching up, I found the source of all that blood on my shirt and the dizzy spell. A clotted mass of hair and an open wound was at the base of my skull. When I touched it I almost threw up. I took a minute and a few breaths before trying to stand again.

The chains tinkled as I attempted to rise. They were wrapped around my ankles and in-between the legs of the chair. All I had to do was pick up the chair and shake off the chains to be free. Granted, my ankles were still chained to each other but at least I wasn’t stuck with the chair.

With my new freedom, I walked over to the windows on the far wall. Peering through a broken pane, I saw another building and an alley lined with tall grass and trash. Hearing a scrape behind me, I wheeled around.

Merl was standing there, leaning casually against the decrepit wall. Blue charged toward me and after sitting at my feet, leaned against me. I crouched down and embraced him. Merl’s three dogs flanked him, their eyes reflecting green in the darkness. “One thing we didn’t go over was how to not fall into a trap,” Merl said. “Obviously, you still have some things to learn.”