by Glenn Ball
Once behind the ridge Pedro looked around. It was nearly pitch black in the shadows where he stood, and the ridge shut off all view from the road. He had been cursing the darkness of the trailer for hours. Now he was thankful that his eyes had already been well-adjusted to the darkness. He would need every minute he could get to make his escape successful.
On the horizon he could see the sky lit up by lights from a town in the east. It couldn’t be more than a few miles. At least he hoped not. That would be where he could find food and supplies. It would be his mark. Stepping lightly through the darkness he set out immediately.
********
The jeep was going steadily faster, attempting to catch up to the trailer truck. “We should have spotted the truck by now,” Oscar said. David half listened with droopy eyelids. “If the trailer truck was travelling this speed, I guarantee you it would have an accident.”
The words were hardly out of Oscar’s mouth when he had to slam on his brakes. Ahead of them was the trailer on its side and the cab flipped over. It had smashed into an enormous tractor, and a car had come from behind and collided with the cab of the truck. There was twisted metal everywhere, and little pockets of fires.
David jerked alert. Oscar pulled his jeep to the side of the road, and both of them jumped out to check out the situation. With weapons concealed but at hand they approached the truck from behind. Oscar sent David to go around the back side of the trailer, to make sure it was still secured and advance on the opposite side. But David was no sooner at the back of the trailer than he motioned for Oscar to come too.
Dread rose up like the head of a cobra in Oscar’s stomach. Had the illegals escaped? One escapee and Antonio would have his head, literally. Worse: what if the chemicals been spilled out somehow? Death would be a welcome alternative to what Antonio would do to him if he failed to protect the operation. “No slip-ups” had been the warning.
“Some of them are gone,” David exclaimed. Oscar came around the backside of the trailer. Peering in he could see bodies scattered, some groaning, some still unconscious.
They took a quick body count, also taking stock of how many packages of drugs remained. To Oscar’s partial relief the chemical weapons were still safely stored and hidden.
After their brief but thorough investigation they shut the gates of the trailer again and locked it, ignoring the horrified expressions of those inside as they did so. Muffled screams could be heard of those pleading to be let out.
“Under no circumstances are the illegals allowed to live… Ochoa Machado’s orders. Start hunting them down while I call Señor Ochoa and the cleanup crews.” Oscar relayed the orders with authority.
********
Pedro had just begun his trek towards the lights of town when he heard the jeep skidding to a stop. It unnerved him. If he were spotted by anybody it could mean deportation, prison or death. He quickened his pace as much as he could. Only problem was he could barely see, and the footing was treacherous.
Then he heard it...a gunshot. Almost immediately it was followed by another; then another. His mind began to whirl with questions and fears. “Who is shooting? And who are they shooting at? How long till they see me? Will I be next?”
His foot slipped on a rock, causing him to fall to the ground with a jar, banging his elbow.
There was a blood-curdling scream followed by another shot as he was getting to his feet. Panic was rising up within him. He had to get away fast. It sounded to him like there was a death squad killing off all the illegals. If that was the case, his only hope was to get away before he was discovered.
Just ahead of him the ground was more exposed to the moonlight. He needed better footing to make good time, so he headed downhill toward the moonlit pathway. Behind him he could hear a man yelling just beyond the ridge. His voice was getting louder as he was approaching the crest of the ridge. “No, please don’t sh…!” Two shots fired. Looking back Pedro could actually see the silhouette of the man as he fell headlong.
CHAPTER 9
Under Fire
The buzz of his smart phone irritated his dream like a mosquito in the ear. There was a stir in one of the girls lying next to him, as the buzz again aggravated his ear. Antonio was jolted awake. He grabbed his smart phone and grumbled at being disturbed.
“Yeah, what is it?!” This had better be good he said to himself.
Oscar was brief and to the point.
Ochoa could not believe his ears. How could this key eighteen-wheeler have met with such disaster? “If the chemical weapons should be discovered…?” the question haunted him. Climbing over one of his naked companions he scrambled out of bed to take the call in an adjoining room. He did not want to consider such a possibility, nor would he. He would make sure that did not happen.
“I’ll have the cleanup crew in there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” It was imperative that none of the illegals got away. “Don’t waste anymore f***g time on the phone. Get after the five that have escaped ya. Apúrate! Don’t let any get away or they won’t be the only ones running for their lives. Comprendes?”
“Yeah, Alejandro, watch the road in front of you, but hurry.” Ochoa had already been dialing Alejandro on a second phone before he’d hung up on Oscar. Alejandro was in a van full of an emergency crew of assassins and evidence cleanup experts following a number of miles behind Oscar and David just as a precaution. Alejandro’s crew had trailed each of the eighteen-wheeler cargos of chemical weapons as an insurance policy should anything go awry, and this was to be their last trip.
“The f***g eighteen-wheeler with the chemicals crashed head-on not far in front of you. The chemicals appear intact, but they’ll need to be moved to another trailer and hauled out of there pronto. And the illegals will need to be disposed of. Make sure there are no witnesses. I’ll have the back-up trailer truck there within the hour.”
********
Pedro was running now. His heart was pumping, adrenaline shooting through his pores. But now a new silhouette appeared on the ridge, and this one had a rifle in hand. He was scanning the countryside to make sure there were no more escapees. Romero darted behind a tree.
Hugging the tree to stay out of view he could hear his own breath. It was an awful sound. With so much silence around him, it seemed magnified, like a bullhorn broadcasting his position. His mind worked a mile a minute.
Where could he go from here? His options of escape were few. He was hiding in a small patch of trees. He could go fifteen feet further to the other end of the patch and then make a run for it. Maybe there was another group of trees further on.
Should he go stealthily or go as fast as he could?
Had he been spotted? He remained in doubt, afraid to poke his head around the tree trunk to look.
His answer was not long in coming. A shot was fired in his direction.
Immediately he began the dash to the other side of the trees. From there he could see thicker woods beyond going up the side of a hill. He thrust his legs as fast as he could in that direction. Beneath his feet it was mostly sand, but there were rocks too. Halfway to the woods he stumbled on some loose gravel. There was a loud scattering and colliding of rocks as the gravel fell down the side of a slope.
Gunfire now ricocheted on some boulders not far from him. To his horror the moon now shone down on him like a spotlight putting in him on stage to be targeted. He made a desperate slide down the slope where the loose gravel had fallen. At the bottom of the slope there was a slight ridge that might protect him long enough to get to the edge of the woods.
Crashing and banging his way down he made terrific time, but the clamor offended everything inside of him. He couldn’t draw their attention better if he were to jump up and down waving his arms and shouting “I’m over here.”
Another shot bounced off the rocks below him.
In seconds he was at the bottom and running for the cover of the ridge. It couldn’t be but twenty feet away, yet it seemed as far as the moon in his terror of the bu
llets that were now showered around him. He was huffing and puffing, literally throwing his body forward, every muscle straining as they never had in all his life. The sweat poured off of him as he reached his momentary refuge.
There was one instant of elation at this temporary victory, but the next instant brought a startling sight that sent chills through him. There was a dark shadow not two feet from him moving ever so slightly under the ridge. It was the shape of a man. That was all his mind was able to register in that instant before the man grabbed him.
CHAPTER 10
Iraq
The wall exploded right in front of him.
Captain Adam Valencia never ceased to marvel at the seemingly miraculous appearance of the F-Eighteens when they came in to provide air support. One instant there was no sign they were coming, and the next instant they had already exploded past leaving their trail of thunder and destruction. He and his buddy Sam had a nickname for their F- Eighteen squadron: The Phantoms. They were rarely seen, yet they made such a commotion when they passed. This particular time they had disintegrated a building that housed several snipers and a mounted-machine gun that was giving them fits. Three of his outfit had been snuffed out before the F- Eighteen pass. The planes could achieve in seconds what it took his outfit hours to accomplish.
“C.O.C. got the F.O.G. that was on target…I repeat, that was on target.” He could hear their radio man communicating with the pilot.
The only downside now was that they had marked that building for a place to take cover. It would have enabled them to advance safely for the next few blocks for the same reason it had been a bastion of defense against their own attack.
With his binoculars in hand he began to scan the remains of the neighborhood in front of them for another high building where they could make their next stand. Clouds of smoke and dust rose everywhere through the streets. Many of the gray and yellow houses were missing walls and roofs. It looked like a graveyard with the bones of houses lying in shambles, the smoke of their destruction floating upwards like lost souls -- the ghosts of their previous inhabitants.
Car-15s and M240s were firing in rapid successions on either side of him.
In spite of the dry air sweat was pouring down Valencia’s dirty forehead. He had to keep wiping his brow to see clearly. The hot arid climate of Iraq sucked the life out of him like the fires of hell, magnifying his emptiness at missing his young bride Perle.
That morning he had seen one of his best buddies die right in front of him. A bullet had lodged in his bone, and he screamed “get it out of me! It burns! Get it out of me!” The screaming had continued for the better part of an hour, but eventually the blood drained out of him.
“There, that building will do.” His binoculars had landed on a large house with thick walls. It would take some heavy fighting to get there and it was nearly half a mile away. But it was in a strategic position for them and would be well worth the effort.
“Come on shoot 1235.” The sergeant was yelling the commands to coordinate the ongoing attack. Boom! Sounds like firecrackers, and another boom. Echoes of bullets rang out in the streets.
Lonely light-posts kept their tall heads bent as if trying to avoid the gunfire, much like ostriches that stick their head in the sand to avoid danger. Yet it seemed to work. Not one light-post had been hit.
Sometimes Adam felt like those skinny light-posts, exposed at unadvised heights to all the ammunition the Iraqis could toss at them. Yet he watched his buddies die while he struggled on untouched.
“Talk to me.” The radio man was coordinating the next air strike. The F- Eighteens must be coming around for another pass. “Copy.”
Two more buildings vaporized almost at the same moment. One moment they were there and the next nothing but smoke. Then a thunder-crack shook the air tailing the F- Eighteens that were already long gone.
“Okay, let’s go!” With the nearest enemy combatants taken out, the sergeant commanded their forward march. Valencia had already indicated to the sergeant his finding, and they would make for the building he had indicated. He had planned the safest and most direct route for the squad to take.
The rest of the company was already down the stairs as he helped the radio man gather the equipment from the roof. Watching the horizon for any last clues of danger to their route he could see the top of the radio man’s head as he descended an outside staircase that would be their shortcut. He was all set to take his turn as the last one down when he felt a gun at the back of his own head.
A deep voice said something like, “La tataharrako!”
CHAPTER 11
Night Predators
After Señor Ochoa hung up on him Oscar joined David in shooting down the other illegal escapees. There had been several by the roadside too beat up to make a good break for it. They were sitting ducks. There had been a couple of others making a better run for it, but David had successfully shot them down as well. Having taken a head count they knew that only two now remained. Oscar was now running up the ridge to join David who at that moment was scanning the other side.
Just as he came alongside of David his companion took a shot at a man running from a ditch just outside of a patch of trees below.
“Come on. Let’s get him,” Oscar barked at David as he began racing down the side of the ridge after the man that had run beyond the other side of the tree patch.
Once beyond the tree patch they had hoped they would see the man again, but he was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, there came a sound beyond where that man should be. It was the sound of gravel falling. Then it was that they spotted Pedro and took a shot at him. But after several more attempts he got completely out of range and out of sight behind a ridge.
Oscar was cursing at his bad luck. Should these two illegals get away, he had better hope that Ochoa never found him either. He wasted no time putting a new plan in action. He sent David scrambling down that slope in direct chase, while he posted himself on the upper side of the ridge to get an overhead view. Should they escape David at first, then he would have a clear shot, plus with their radios he could then guide David right to them.
********
Pedro’s heart had been racing as he approached the shelter of the ridge. Now it stopped as he felt the strong hands pull him close and clutch him covering his mouth. “Shush…” The man stifled his exclamation of surprise. “I’m with you,” he continued in a whisper.
He turned Pedro around and it was the man who had broken open the trailer gates and first escaped. Once again there was a moment’s reprieve that was not to last. The death squad was hot on their trail. They must get moving at once.
“The trees,” the man whispered, pointing in the same direction Pedro had planned to go. They started running, staying close to the overhanging ridge, hoping not to be seen.
They were making good time when the noise of rocks falling some distance behind them warned them that their hunters were again coming within range of them. A few steps further and a shot rang out, followed by what seemed the same instant a bullet whizzing by and pinging off a rock just to their right. All the more they hugged the ridge on their left as they sped their pace, grateful that it began curving somewhat to their left, once again taking them out of sight of their pursuer.
They had gone fifty feet when the next shot hit the wall behind and to their left. They were once again in his sights. But here the ground level dropped into something like a dry creek. Again, shielded from his view, they made tremendous pace for the woods just ten meters ahead.
Hope rose up in Pedro’s heart, like froth on his boiling emotions. Maybe they would make the shelter of the woods after all. Spurred on by this hope they were making headway down the creek when Oscar appeared on their left, quickly lowering his rifle at them and taking aim. Cold dread rushed over Pedro’s heart like a bucket of ice water.
The man ahead of Romero began to duck and weave as he ran haphazardly in a rather zig zag fashion. Pedro took up the strategy. As dark as it was Oscar cou
ld not get a clear shot.
There were a few pings of bullets shattering rocks and dirt to their right as they continued down the creek, but in a matter of moments they were in the darkness of the trees. Over the next few minutes, they made good distance down the creek; then climbed out to the right running through the woods as quietly as possible. It should be harder and harder now for their pursuers to follow them in the darkness.
********
They had been running hard for nearly an hour. As a fisherman, Pedro’s legs were enormously strong, having grown up on the open ocean and spending the day sunup to sundown maintaining his balance on their waves. His lungs were so well developed that he could stay underwater for minutes at a time diving for oysters and shellfish. He was not one to tire after running for an hour. Nevertheless, he was glad when they came across the perfect hiding place. It was a “cave” hidden behind some shrubs and bushes. They decided to take a rest.
Moving aside some branches the apparent pitch darkness gave way to a gloomily moonlit “cave”. It was rather like the entrance to a cave, without the cave; a cleft in the rock with a rock wall at the back of it. Though it had some overhanging branches, there were just enough moonbeams coming down through the top of it to give it a ghostly glow.
They looked around the crevice for several minutes while catching their breath. Once his breath slowed Nicolas stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Nick.” He looked to be in his late twenties, though his searching eyes indicated a man of experience beyond his years.
Pedro took the hand. “My name is Pedro,” he replied. They had been together since the border but had never had a chance to talk. There had been very little conversation with anyone north of the border. Their guides wouldn’t allow it, saying that the authorities might hear them, and they would be deported immediately. “When I saw you bust that trailer gate open it was one of the happiest moments of my life.”