Green Ice: A Deadly High (17 page)

Leticia tentatively stepped into the room behind them and gasped in shock and wailed when she caught sight of her grandfather’s mutilated corpse. She engaged in a weepy conversation with the big cop as his younger colleague covered the six men beside the counter, diverting his aim with his handgun between them.

The big cop turned and barked out an order. The younger cop nodded and relayed the instruction.

“He wants the three of us to move away from the truckers,” Jorge said. “He wants to search us.”

Mancini groaned. They’d find the Heckler and Koch he had in his waistband and match it to the gunshot wounds to the old guy’s head and body. He knew he faced a homicide charge at the very least.
The cops would eventually find the bags of cash in their rooms and confiscate the whole bundle. Trey was concerned with the bag of green crystals he still had in his pocket. They both knew their trip down south was going to be cut abruptly short. 

The young cop
pulled on a pair of blue gloves and began his search, patting down Jorge first then moving on to Trey. He found the bag of green ice and barked to his colleague. The big cop acknowledged the find and spoke into his radio microphone. 

“Shit,” Trey hissed. “What the hell is he going to do with
that green ice?”

Mancini closed his eyes when the cop pulled the handgun from his waistband and lifted it for the big cop to see.
The younger cop placed Mancini’s handgun and the green crystals into two separate, transparent evidence bags then placed them on a table on the opposite side of the room.  

“What do we do?” Trey whispered. “Shall I try and bribe them?”

“No amount of money is going to buy your way out of this shit,” the young cop said in perfect English. “What the heck are you guys doing? Those truckers are talking about evil spirits and people rising from the dead, you two are carrying firearms and narcotics. This doesn’t look good for any of you.”

“There’s a crazy guy still on the loose around here,” Mancini said, trying to reason with the cop. “He killed the old guy and he’s going to attack anybody he sees.”

“Save it for the judge, asshole,” the young cop snapped. He retreated a few paces, holding Mancini’s handgun in a gloved hand. “Somebody butchered poor old Miguel in his own place and we’re going to figure out exactly who did it.” He nodded towards the old guy’s bloodied corpse.

“Look, I’m worried
that other guy is going to get away,” Mancini said. He seriously didn’t think the crazy big guy was going to be far away, but felt concerned the cops might be too preoccupied with the felonies right in front of them and allow the infected gang member to slip through the net.

“Shut up,” the young cop barked. “Don’t speak unless I tell you. Now, put your hands behind your head and get
down on your knees.” He repeated the order in Spanish for the trucker’s sake.

Mancini knew no amount of warnings or intended diversions would deter the cop from conducting his arrest ritual. He pictured images of some hell hole of a Mexican jail in his mind as he sunk to his knees. 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mancini wondered how long the police backup vehicles would take to get to the motel. He figured the cops would have called for an ambulance or some sort of medical vehicle to take the old guy’s body away. He glanced at Trey kneeling next to him and the young kid didn’t seem unduly worried about their precarious predicament. He probably thought his lawyer dad would wave a magic legal wand and make the charges all go away. Mancini didn’t share his optimism. Oreilles would be livid at them for getting caught by the cops and shooting an old man wasn’t exactly a forgivable crime.

The big cop wrote notes in a pocket book as Leticia tried to explain what had happened earlier in the evening.
The younger cop covered Mancini, Trey, Jorge and the three truckers with his handgun, his jaw jutted outwards with a determined expression.

The clock behind the counter clunked the seconds away and Mancini knew they had to get away somehow before the
law enforcement backup arrived. He thought hard but couldn’t think of any way to divert the cops’ attention. Trey’s dad, aka Old Man Coogan was going to have to work extremely hard to make all the charges they faced simply disappear. The temperature inside the bar felt as though it was rapidly increasing. Mancini felt his shirt stick to his skin and sweat roll down his back.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the internal corridor caused the older cop to cease talking to Leticia and spin around to face the doorway. The younger cop remained in position covering the six kneeling men but his gaze was averted to the source of the noise.

“
Alto, no se mueva
!” the big cop barked. He stuffed his notebook into his breast pocket and rapidly drew his handgun, aiming into the dark shadow beyond the bar.

Jorge didn’t have to translate for Mancini. He knew the big cop was telling whoever was approaching to stand his ground. If the perpetrator was the big guy with the bandana, Mancini knew the cop’s demands would be futile.

The three truckers whimpered and swiveled around, trying to catch a glimpse of who was approaching. The big cop hollered his instruction again and took a few backward steps. Mancini and Trey couldn’t see who the cop was yelling at, due to the bar counter obscuring their view.

Leticia shrieked and hurried away from the entranceway. A low growling noise echoed through the bar and the big cop took a few shuffling sideways steps. He fired two rounds, the crack of gunfire reverberating through the corridor and the stench of cordite hung heavy in the air. He babbled in a slightly high pitched tone and backed up again. The younger cop bounced on his toes, glancing nervously to his left and repeatedly questioning what was happening.

Mancini itched to make a move. He knew what was coming.

The big guy in the red bandana lurched into the bar area. His lower face was smeared with blood, surrounding his lips and chin and his teeth were bared in a snarl. He raised his hands in a grabbing motion and his jet black eyes remained wide, fixed on the big cop. The cop fired a third time, the round penetrating the left side of the big guy’s chest.
A spattering of blood caused by the exit wound hit the wall behind the big man. He tottered backward for a brief second but then continued his stalking approach.

“Shoot him in the head,” Mancini yelled, but his instruction was drowned out by the panicked shouts from the others in the bar.

The younger cop turned his attention to the big guy, swiveling at the hip and firing two rounds. One shot pinged over the target’s shoulder, slamming into the wall and the other clipped the collar bone, causing it to shatter and break through the skin.

The big guy roared and sprung at the older cop. The two of them crashed
onto a table, upturning it and sending several glasses tumbling to the floor. The cop dropped his handgun and struggled with his attacker as they rolled onto the floor amongst the shattered glass. The big guy scrabbled on top of his prey, snarling and growling in frenzied rage. The cop screamed when his crazed assailant bit into his the left side of his face, tearing at the flesh with his teeth.

The younger cop swiveled back and forth between the grappling men on the ground and the six kneeling by the counter to his right. The three truckers babbled incessantly, Mancini and Trey yelled at the cop to shoot the big guy in the head. Leticia pressed herself against the back wall, wailing in terror.

The big guy tore at the cop’s throat, snaffling at the gushing flow of blood from the wound. The younger cop fired a couple more rounds, the first hitting the big guy’s back between the shoulder blades but the second missed the target completely, zipping into the upturned table beside them. He fired again, the round slamming into his injured colleague’s upper thigh. The big cop’s body jolted on the ground. The color in his face drained away and his eyes glazed. He lay unmoving beneath the crazed attacker.    

Mancini had seen enough. It was time to act or they would all perish inside the motel bar.
He lowered his hands and rose to his feet.

“Stay down on your knees,” the younger cop screamed
, shakily aiming his handgun at Mancini.

The young cop knew he’d lost control of the situation. He was trying to play for time until the backup arrived but the situation was rapidly deteriorating.

“Watch out!” Mancini yelled, but the cop didn’t turn quickly enough.

The big guy leapt from the ground,
seemingly finished with the big cop’s corpse. He hurled himself at the young cop, snaffling his jaws and tearing into the flesh on the side of the man’s neck. The lawman released his grip on his firearm and went down sideways under the big guy’s bulky weight. The two of them fell to the floor at Mancini’s feet, the young cop screeching and gurgling under the furious attack. The truckers shrieked and shouted while hauling themselves up from their kneeling positions. They scattered around the room, slipping on shards of broken glass.

Trey and Jorge leapt to their feet and followed Mancini, stumbling over
smashed glass and busted furniture to the opposite side of the room. Leticia still stood against the back wall, trapped between the crazed big guy and Trey, Mancini and Jorge.

“Run over here,” Trey called out to her.

Leticia’s face screwed up in emotion. She bolted through the space beside the marauding big guy and the upturned tables, losing her footing as she slipped on a broken beer bottle. Trey rushed forward and grabbed her arm before she hit the deck. He wrapped his arm beneath her shoulder and hauled her away from the big guy, who continued his murderous attack on the young cop.

Mancini grabbed his bagged Heckler and Koch from the table. He scooped up the bag of green crystals and tossed it at Jorge.

“Keep hold of that,” Mancini yelled at Jorge.

Jorge nodded then his eyes widened in terror. Mancini swung around and saw the big guy rising from the young cop’s mutilated body. The black eyeballs narrowed, focusing directly on Mancini.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mancini furiously tore at the plastic bag, trying to retrieve his handgun inside.
The big guy roared and padded across the floor towards him. Trey pulled Leticia backwards towards the external door.

The truckers backed up
through the bar. Jose crouched down to retrieve the big cop’s discarded pistol on the floor. He felt a meaty hand grasp around his wrist and turned to see the big cop rising up into a sitting position. Jose gasped and watched the big cop’s eyelids open, orange pupils amid black eyeballs glared back at him.

“Fuck this,” Mancini grunted. He gripped the handgun butt through the plastic and raised the barrel, aiming at the onrushing big guy. He pressed his finger through the guard and squeezed the trigger. The round first tore through the plastic evidence bag, leaving a hole, scorched black around the edges, before ripping through the big guy’s skull and finishing the
short lived journey by slamming into the wall behind the counter.

The big guy’s head jolted backwards and the force of the round stopped him from continuing forward. The snarling expression slipped from his face and he sank to the floor on his back.

Jose screamed as the reanimated big cop’s teeth sunk into his forearm. Mancini spun around and saw the now resurrected cop’s corpse grab the trucker by the throat and drag him to the floor. Jose wriggled but couldn’t escape the vice like grip.

Mancini tore open the evidence bag
at the point where the bullet had left a hole and wrenched out his handgun. He aimed at the big cop’s head but refrained from firing when he heard shouts and heavy footfalls in the corridor beside the bar.

Jose screamed as the big cop tore through the muscles in his forearm, ripping flesh from bone with his teeth. The two remaining truckers picked up broken chair legs and battered the big cop around the head.  

Mancini herded Trey, Leticia and Jorge towards the rear door, leading to the bathroom block.

“The backup cops are in the building, we need to get the hell out of here,” he hissed, as they drew closer to the door. “Let’s just hope they’re not on their way around the back of the building.”
He shoved Jorge, Trey and Leticia outside and turned towards the truckers. “Come on, we need to get moving,” he called.

The two standing truckers turned to glance at Mancini. Behind the melee, Mancini saw the younger cop staggering to his feet, reanimated and blinking heavily. His eyes looked like gouged black holes in the dim light in the bar.

“Watch out!” Mancini warned, pointing to the lurching, younger cop.