Green Ice: A Deadly High (43 page)

Trey shook his head. “I have to admit, I’m not much good at playing a badass. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of shit, man. It’s exciting and all but I couldn’t have got myself out of that warehouse like you did, man. That was awesome.”

“You could have burned that damn car, same as I did,” Mancini sighed. “It didn’t take a genius to work that out.”

Trey shrugged and the car became silent for a few seconds. Mancini tossed his smoke out of the car, closing his eyes and allowing himself a few minutes of dozing. 

Trey glanced at Mancini in his rear view mirror. “So, what’s your story, man? Are you some kind of fucked up, super Black Ops veteran or some shit, man?”

Mancini opened his eyes and laughed. He usually kept his past a guarded secret but saw no harm in telling Trey about his military background. There were no guarantees they were going to make it back to the States alive in any case, so what did it matter?

“Nah, I’m no kind of super guy, Trey. Just some old, ex-army grunt who managed to get
himself expunged from the service through my own stupidity in trusting the wrong people.”

Trey nodded. “U-huh, I knew it. I damn well knew you were ex-military. I said that to myself after five minutes of meeting you, man. I said – this guy is ex-Special Forces or some shit, man. I could tell just by the way you walked and talked. You walked the walk and talked the talk and the way you handle those guns
, it’s just like watching
Rambo
in action, man.”

“Quit blowing smoke up my ass, man,” Mancini croaked. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Trey laughed and realized he’d gone far enough with his appraisal. “You from LA or someplace else?”

“South Pasadena, originally,” Mancini mumbled, feeling the increasingly overwhelming
sensation of fatigue.

“
I hear it’s a kind of cool place out there.”

“So nice I joined the army
a day after I turned eighteen to get away,” Mancini muttered, closing his eyes again. “I was from a poor Italian immigrant family and we lived in what you could describe at best as a wooden shack near the railroad. Trains would rattle by day and night and I shared a room with my two brothers. My old man died of a heart attack when I was fifteen and my mom passed away a month after I joined the army. I went back for the funeral but I haven’t set foot there since. The more places you see, the more you realize nowhere is that paradise on Earth you dream about finding.”

Trey remained silent. He realized his own privileged upbringing was on a totally different scale to the one Mancini had endured.
He’d always had everything he ever wanted, showered with gifts and cash from his rich lawyer father and inherently wealthy mother.

Trey
had pretty much flunked High School, infrequently attending classes and mocking the kids who had their noses permanently inside a text book. He didn’t see the point in attaining any kind of exam grades. With the wealth his family had at their disposal, Trey knew he’d never have to bother working for a living if he didn’t want to. Instead, his hang-outs were at the beach or mingling with the rich and famous amongst the LA nightclub scene. Surfing and partying were the only vocations he’d ever been good at but all his pals the same age had recently drifted off into their own lives, with career commitments or engaging in serious relationships. Trey had neither a career path to follow nor seemed capable of holding down a girlfriend for more than a couple of weeks. He’d grown bored on his own and wrongly believed he could become some sort of criminal entrepreneur if he gained a little experience into the murky underworld scene. Trey knew he’d never be like Mancini. He didn’t possess the steely determination to succeed or the ruthless kill or be killed resolve running through his veins. Those qualities were inbred and probably could never be taught.           

The road remained fairly quiet, with only the odd truck or van rumbling by in the opposite direction.
Mancini slipped into the world of slumber, dreaming about his childhood home. His family was reunited in the small house and he was a teenager again but the property was surrounded by a crowd of present day infected people.

Trey
knew he’d feel exhausted later during the oncoming day but felt he had to play his part. If that meant driving to La Paz without stopping, then so be it. He thought about what Mancini had said about a career change and began to imagine himself as one of a new breed of movie makers and which famous actor he could cast to play himself.

Trey’s mind whirled with excitement. With his father’s financial backing, he could become a
legendary film director and move in all kinds of privileged circles, rubbing shoulders as an equal with Hollywood’s finest.

A sudden sense of clarity and realization dawned on him and he felt a cold chill run up his spine. For his new career as a movie maker to come to fruition, Trey had to survive the ensuing perilous situation of battling armed cartel and retrieving the green ice,
then continue to survive against the infected onslaught on the return journey back to the States.

Trey
realized the odds of continuing to exist throughout the whole scenario were extremely slim.

Chapter Sixty-Six

The impending sunrise projected an orange glow across the clear sky as Trey drove closer to La Paz. The change in light stirred Mancini from his troubled sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat forward in his seat. Jorge and Leticia still slumbered. Jorge’s head lolled around with the motion from the car and his bare foot shook left and right, while resting on the top of the front seat behind Leticia’s head. She leaned her head against her hand, resting her elbow on top of the door.

“You okay, Trey?” Mancini croaked. His throat and mouth were dry and parched.

Trey rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. I could do with a cup of old Joe though.”

“Yeah, good call. I could use a drink myself. Stop when you see a stall or a store.”

Trey turned his head slightly. “You sure? I thought you said no more stops until we hit La Paz.”

Mancini nodded. “I did but we must be
almost there right now and we don’t know what kind of god awful mess is going to be waiting for us when we get there.”

Trey nodded. “I saw a road sign that said La Paz was
nine miles away a few minutes ago, right before you woke up, man.”

Mancini reached into the pocket flap and retrieved Trey’s Heckler and Koch handgun then passed it over the top of the seat.
Trey took the firearm and stiffed it back into his waistband.

“We could all use a bathroom break and maybe find a bandage for Hop Along here,” Mancini said, slapping Jorge’s face with the back of his hand.

Jorge snorted and stirred, awaking from his sleep. “What? Where the hell are we?” he grunted.

“I see you’re full of morning joy, Jorge,” Mancini sighed.

“My ankle still hurts like hell,” Jorge whined, leaning forward to move his leg slightly.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that we’re nearly at La Paz and we’re going to make a stop at the next store or roadside stall we see.”
Mancini figured he also had to call LA to divulge the details of the latest situation report. “I’ll make a call for some more guys to come down and help us out here.”

Trey
spotted a trailer on the roadside with signs hanging on each side of a counter window and pulled the Thunderbird onto the shoulder. Leticia awoke when the wheels bumped on the rough terrain. She yawned and glanced around, taking in their surroundings.

“Hey,” Trey muttered and flashed
her a smile.

Leticia only nodded in return and Trey figured she was still brooding about lying to the cops
back at the blockade. 

Trey halted the car directly opposite the beverage trailer. A greasy looking, unshaven guy peered out from the counter window at the Thunderbird. He had a slightly wary look on his face, which Mancini found a little disconcerting
but the smell of fresh coffee was too inviting to pass up.

“I’ll stay in the car,” Jorge groaned. “I can’t walk on this damned ankle.”

Mancini was reluctant to leave Jorge in the Thunderbird with an array of loaded firearms tucked away but knew Jorge couldn’t move freely and wouldn’t be physically capable of reaching under the front seat with any great ease. He decided to collect his handgun from the glove box though.

Trey and Leticia got out the car and Mancini hopped over the side. Trey rolled his neck and arched his aching back, squinting into the early morning sunlight
and pointing out the shoreline in the distance. Mancini used Trey and Leticia as a shield from the trailer guy’s prying glare and retrieved his own Heckler and Koch from the glove box.

Leticia order four coffees from the trailer guy and he grunted in reply. He came back with four steaming Styrofoam cups and conversed in Spanish with Leticia. Trey handed over a bill that the guy snatched away without
a glance in his direction.

“You sit tight there, Jorge,” Mancini said quietly. “I will be watching you.”

Jorge muttered under his breath and Mancini made his way over to the trailer and collected his coffee cup from the counter.

Leticia turned to Trey and Mancini with a concerned expression.
Trey picked up on her anxiety.

“What? What is it? What did this guy say?” he asked, glancing briefly at the man inside the trailer.

Leticia handed Trey his cup and took her own from the counter. “He was asking where we are heading and warned us not to go into La Paz. The whole place is in lockdown with some sort of contagious disease running rife through the city. The entire area is on high alert and the military and law enforcements are everywhere.”

“Shit,” Mancini hissed. The situation was worse than he’d anticipated. “Hang here a moment and keep your eyes on Jorge,” he said to Trey. “I don’t want him going for those weapons under the seats, although I seriously doubt he will. I have to make a call.”

Trey nodded. “Got it.”

Mancini
walked a few yards away from the trailer along the dusty shoulder, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket. He speed dialed Eddie Reinbeck’s number. The call was answered almost immediately.

“Talk to me, Marco,” Eddie barked on the other end of the line.
His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

“We got a big problem here, Eddie,” Mancini said. “We’ve reached the outskirts of La Paz but there are cops and military all over the god damn place. I don’t know how we’re going to find our way through the city.
”

“You found out where
Luiz is holed up yet?”

“We know he’s around here someplace but only Jorge knows the exact address and he ‘
aint spilling until we get near the place,” Mancini explained. “These infected fucks are crawling out the woodwork almost every place we go. We’ve had some hairy moments out here, Eddie. How’s it looking for some backup down here?”

“No can do at the moment, Marco,” Eddie sighed. “I’ve been up all night trying to organize things
right here. There’s some kind of terrorist alert or some damn thing going down in LA. The airport’s closed, the train stations are sealed off and the traffic routes are gridlocked. It makes moving anything around almost impossible. I’m relying on street guys to cart all kinds of important shit around the city on foot. And we both know how unpredictable those guys can be.”

Mancini was barely listening. He’d stopped taking in what Eddie was saying after he’d refused them any backup.

“Call me when you get some good news, Marco,” Reinbeck continued. “I don’t want to hear any more sob stories. I’ve got a whole bag full of
can’t do’s
right now, from these useless motherfuckers on the street. They’re all going to give me an aneurism by the end of the day.”

“Okay, Eddie, I get it,” Mancini groaned, now desperate to get off the phone. He had enough on his plate without Reinbeck’s griping rant. “I’ll call you later.” He folded up his cell phone, leaving Eddie Reinbeck to continue complaining into a dead line.

“Shit,” Mancini muttered to himself. They’d been left isolated and high and dry. They were now forced to complete the mission on their own.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Mancini slipped his phone back into his pocket and made his way back to the beverage trailer. Trey and Leticia sipped their coffee while standing beside the Thunderbird and Jorge held his cup, resting it on his chest.

“What’s the story, morning glory?” Trey asked.

Mancini shook his head. “I asked LA for backup but it ‘aint going to happen.”