by Bobby Akart
Ashby strolled out from between the two buildings and stood near the top of the block steps overlooking the courtyard. The young boys saw her first and appeared to snap their heads toward her in unison. By the slow reaction of their captors, Ashby presumed they were drunk.
“Hola! Cómo estás?” Everybody knew how to say hello, how are you, in Spanish. It was a universally understood phrase, even for drunken Italian men.
Ashby glanced to her right and saw that Jake had his rifle pointed toward the men who had been manhandling the young girls.
“Ah, bellissimo!” shouted one of the men as he drew his fingers close to his lips and then spread them toward the sky. He pushed the Mexican girl onto the ground next to the young boys. They immediately huddled together and began to cry. “Vieni qui angelo!”
The man tucked his revolver in his waistband and began climbing the steps toward Ashby, who remained stoic. The idea was to separate the three men and keep the children out of the line of fire.
Ashby tried to recall any Italian from her days studying Vesuvius. It might not be grammatically correct, but the idea was to buy Jake time to take the shot.
She tossed her hair behind her head with her left hand and feigned a sly, seductive smile. “Ah, bella signore.”
The man approached the first step and said, “Sì, mio angelo.” Behind him, Ashby saw movement as the girl being held by the third man twisted her way free and started to run.
At that moment, the events occurred at the speed of sound in Ashby’s mind. Jake’s rifle erupted in a rapid-fire barrage of bullets, riddling the third man’s body and spraying blood all over the screaming children and their captor.
Ashby’s assailant didn’t hesitate as he raised his gun toward her. She had drawn her weapon and was prepared to shoot when the man’s head exploded from two more rounds fired by Jake.
The air was filled with screams and crying, creating enough chaos for the final attacker to begin his escape. He started running across the soccer field, dropping his bottle of liquor and firing wildly over his shoulder with a handgun.
Jake leapt over a half wall and jumped from the road to the grassy courtyard, skipping the three steps in between. The man was running faster now, and he’d run out of bullets, as his repeated pulls on the trigger only resulted in metallic clicks.
Fearing for his life, he ran faster and Jake chased after him. Then, unexpectedly, Jake stopped, fell to one knee, and trained his rifle on the man. He squeezed the trigger, firing four quick rounds in rapid succession.
All four found their mark, penetrating the man’s back and blowing through his chest on the other side. As if suspended in animation, his arms flung out, and then he appeared to make a swan dive onto the paved road that encircled the courtyard.
Ashby turned her attention to the children, whose eyes and mouths were wide-open in shock. She walked toward them, but they were so frightened, they jumped out of their huddle and began to run up the stairs past her.
“Wait! Wait! We just want to help you!”
But they kept going. Ashby tried to jog after them; however, the combination of fear and youthfulness was no match for her. The children disappeared between the buildings as Ashby stopped and hung her head. Then, suddenly, one of the young boys returned to the corner and spoke two simple words to Ashby that brought tears to her eyes.
“Gracias, señorita.”
Chapter 31
The Pacific Ocean
Isla Socorro
Ashby wiped the tears from her eyes. She’d taken a couple of steps toward the young boy, but he darted out of sight. By the time she reached the corner of the building, they had disappeared like ghosts. Ashby started toward the courtyard, and she saw that Jake was still kneeling in the grass. Concerned, she ran down the stairs and raced toward him.
“Jake, are you all right?” she yelled as she ran. Apprehension overcame her body. Was he shot by the escaping gunman? Did one of the wild shots he took found Jake?
He didn’t respond.
Ashby approached him cautiously, scanning his body for evidence of blood and then studying the grass beneath him as well.
Nothing.
“Jake, honey, are you okay?” she asked again.
His body was shaking, so she put her arm around his shoulders. She gently removed his rifle from his hands and whispered in his ear, “It’s over. We’re both okay.”
He nodded his head and then buried it in his hands. He began to sob.
Ashby wasn’t sure what to do. Jake had killed a lot of people since their first encounter at Pressley Farm. Too many to count. She couldn’t understand why these three bothered him so much. They deserved it. Ashby would’ve gladly done it herself.
No, this was something else.
She stood and looked around to make sure they were alone. It was an eerie feeling. Other than the three dead bodies lying around the courtyard, the entire complex was devoid of other human beings. She looked at the soccer balls and managed a chuckle despite the stressful situation. There they were—Jake and Ashby’s Wilsons, the equivalent of Tom Hanks’s volleyball.
But they weren’t alone, were they. There were children, and probably adults to go with them. There was another settlement on the island.
She turned her attention back to Jake, who’d stopped crying. “Jake, please talk to me.”
He finally responded, “I shot the guy in the back. I didn’t even hesitate. I shot him in the back while he ran away.”
“Hey, he was shooting at you, too, you know. You had every—”
“I heard the clicks. I knew he was out of ammo. I chased him down and executed him.”
Ashby tried to console him. She’d never seen him this distraught except after Rita’s death. He’d taken that hard and personal. This thug didn’t deserve anyone’s anguish.
Jake continued. “I couldn’t let him live. He had to be eliminated. He couldn’t live to fight another day.”
Ashby placed her arms under Jake’s and forced him to stand. For a minute, they held each other tight without saying a word. The rules of life, and the standards of morality, had been blurred after Yellowstone. As lawlessness spread, a simple rule trumped all others—survival of the fittest.
Jake recovered emotionally, at least enough to get his head together. He and Ashby worked together to move the bodies from the open courtyard and into a thicket near the road that descended toward the south shore of the island. They spoke very little, but Jake seemed to brighten his spirits when Ashby told him about the young boy returning to thank her.
“See, that’s what it’s all about now,” began Ashby. “This may sound corny, but anytime we can protect the innocents, even if it means taking another person’s life, good prevails over evil.”
They walked back into the middle of the courtyard and looked around, taking in their surroundings for the first time.
“We need to take the time to clear the buildings,” said Jake. He looked toward the sky and checked his watch. “It’s gonna be too late for us to return to the yacht, even with the golf cart available to us. If the buildings are empty, which I suspect they are, we’ll bunk in here for the night.”
“Okay, but I’ve got two things. One, the children obviously aren’t residents of this compound. They spoke Spanish. They came here to play because the courtyard is a perfect soccer field. And they ran off toward the north, running past me to get there. If they lived in the other direction, it would have been easier for them to go that way.”
Jake nodded. He was back. “The bad guys ran toward where the dock was shown on the chart. Whadya wanna bet they have a boat down there?”
“Well, if they have a boat, there may be more of them, right?” asked Ashby.
“I see where you’re coming from,” replied Jake. “The dock’s not that far from here. I have no doubt they would’ve heard my rifle. Yet the cavalry never came. Let’s drive the golf cart down the hill and take a look. We don’t have to get too close unless we want to finish the rest of these Italians off.”
“You recognized the Italian dialect?” asked Ashby.
“Oh yeah, I watched the Godfather movies a million times as a kid. It was my mother’s favorite.”
“Okay, then, Don Jacobi. Let’s go.”
After confirming that the only boat parked by the dock was an inflatable similar to theirs, they drove all the way to the bottom of the hill and parked the golf cart. Jake and Ashby were still cautious in their approach just in case there was someone left behind to watch over their boat.
Fifteen minutes later, they were satisfied that no one else had accompanied the Italians onto the island. Ashby pulled out the binoculars to determine where the men had come from. Jake walked out onto the dock and pointed to the diesel fuel pumps on the dock. They were padlocked, which could present a problem, but he’d find a solution. He commented that the tanks most likely had diesel in them; otherwise there would be no reason to lock them up.
They reached the end of the dock, and Jake began to scan the ocean, looking for a larger boat. To the southwest of the island, he could barely see the bow of a large trawler or an older passenger ship. He handed the binoculars to Ashby, who took a look also.
“It’s too small for a cruise ship and too crappy looking to be a yacht,” she commented.
“These guys were pretty crappy,” mumbled Jake. “The only way to get a good look is to walk to the west side of the island, but it’s too late in the day for that.”
“Do you think we’re safe? At least for now?” asked Ashby.
“Here’s what I think. These three clowns brought their booze on shore to party. They came upon the kids and young girls, which turned them into potential rapists until we came along. My guess is their buddies on that boat won’t care if they come back tonight or not.”
Ashby put her arm on Jake’s shoulders. “They’ll come looking at some point, don’t you think?”
Jake nodded, looked around at the rocky bluffs surrounding the dock, and smiled. “Yeah, and when they do, they’ll see what happens when people drink and drive on the water.”
Chapter 32
The Pacific Ocean
Isla Socorro
Jake and Ashby were on edge as they returned to the compound. An eerie calm had replaced the screams of the children and the gunfire that ended three men’s lives. Seabirds could be heard singing and chirping in the distance as night began to fall over the island named for the Virgin Mary, Our Lady of Perpetual Help in the Roman Catholic religion.
“Let’s start with this main building in the center,” said Jake as he led Ashby through the courtyard and up the short set of stairs that doubled as a retaining wall. “We need to clear all the buildings while keeping an eye out for others. Those kids may be back, with their parents. Then there’s the boat people, whoever they are.”
“You were right earlier,” began Ashby. “It’s too late to go back to our yacht. I don’t wanna trudge through the jungle on the other side in the pitch dark.”
“Yeah, I’m tired of surprises.” Jake approached the double set of doors with his knife drawn. There were glass panes inserted into the upper half of each door, but he preferred not to break them out. He elected to jimmy the lock instead, which he did easily.
The smell of stale office air forced its way into their nostrils as they entered the dimly lit space. Jake ran his hands along the wall until he found a bank of light switches. He flicked them on in rapid succession with his left hand.
“Let there be light,” he quipped as the reception area lit up. Four desks were lined up along the walls of the open space, each ostensibly guarding an office behind it. At the end of the rectangular space was a credenza with several framed photos and certificates standing at attention.
On the wall above the credenza was a large photograph of a man in naval dress whites in front of a battleship. Ashby walked closer to get a better look and pointed to a brass nameplate affixed to the walnut-colored frame.
“Contralimrante Carlos Lanz, Comandante Isla Socorro.”
“Obviously, Carlos is the boss man,” said Jake with a chuckle. “He’s got a lot of stars and quite a few ribbons on the shirt. My guess is he’s an admiral, or something equivalent, in the Mexican Navy.”
Ashby gave the photograph another look and turned around. “He’s definitely the commander of Isla Socorro. That’s a big ship, Jake. Way bigger than what could be parked at the dock we just left. Do you think there’s another dock on the island? Maybe where the Mexican families live?”
“We’re gonna find out tomorrow,” he replied as he turned his attention to the offices. He moved through the hallway, reaching into the office doors and turning every light on in the building. “First order of business is to find the keys to the various buildings. The tall building behind us appeared to be a warehouse or storage facility of some type. Plus, our comandante probably has a nice bungalow for his quarters. We could stay there for the night.”
“Okay, I’ll start in here while you check out the offices,” said Ashby.
The two of them set about searching for anything that might explain what the naval base was used for, and where its occupants went. The keys remained elusive as they focused their efforts on desk drawers and file cabinets. Ashby made the first meaningful discovery.
“Hey, I found a logbook, I think.”
Jake joined her at the desk closest to the commander’s office, which was designated by a brass plaque on the door. Ashby opened up the simplistic record book and pointed to dates.
“Look at the dates,” said Jake. He pointed to the handwritten notes on a page that preceded a series of blank pages. “They ended their entries about a week ago. The handwriting isn’t bad, but the words are just gibberish to me.”
“Same here,” began Ashby as she ran her index fingers down the page. “Maybe we can make something of it. Fortunately, both English and Spanish use the regular alphabet. Also, almost half of all words in English have a related word in Spanish. If we can make out a few words, it’ll give us an idea of why they left.”
“You’re pretty smart for a doctor,” said Jake as he bent over and kissed Ashby on the top of the head.
“Yeah, well, I’ve learned a lot of new stuff the last few weeks. Might as well try my hand at Spanish.”
She found a highlighter in the desk drawer and began to use the fluorescent yellow pen to mark over certain words that appeared familiar in English.
Evacuación. Inmediatamente. Completar. Todos. Frontera, No entrada. Indefinido. Muchos años.
“Whadya make of that?” asked Jake.
Ashby muttered the words. “Evacuation. Immediate. Complete. Total. Indefinite.”
“It sure seems they bugged out in a hurry,” said Jake. “Whatever the reason, it wasn’t important for them to take anything with them.”
Ashby continued, “Frontera, No entrada. No entrada means no entrance or entry. But frontera?”
“Frontier, maybe?” Jake added his contribution to the mystery. “Frontier, boundaries, borders. They closed their borders, and the navy recalled everyone on the base to assist.”
“Muchos años,” Ashby repeated. “Muchos means many. Anno Domini—Year of our Lord in Latin. Años refers to years. They expect to be gone many years.”
Jake pulled over a chair from the other desk and sat down. “They’ve abandoned the place, at least for a while.”
“Maybe even a long while,” added Ashby. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah. I think we could take care of it for them until they return.”
“Me too.”
Chapter 33
The Pacific Ocean
Isla Socorro
Isla Socorro, located nearly three hundred miles southwest of Cabo San Lucas, was discovered by Spanish explorers in the early sixteenth century. The naval station was established as a small outpost in 1957 and eventually grew into a recently renovated base, which included housing for over two hundred naval personnel and their families.
The dock con
structed at the southernmost part of the island, Cabo Regla, was used to bring in personnel and materials for the construction of the base. Over the years, the base had expanded to become a completely self-sufficient facility, with supply ships running weekly between the mainland and the base to provide food.
Electricity was generated by solar arrays spread throughout the compound. Fresh water was procured and stored with a massive rain catchment system stretching to the northern parts of the island. The elevation of the island was ideally suited for a gravity-fed water source down to the base.
Until the Mexican Navy established a foothold on the island, it was uninhabited except for a variety of birds and small mammals. The ocean surrounding Isla Socorro was teeming with a wide variety of fish. The sea-life-rich waters were the home to world-class yellowfin tuna and wahoo. In recent years, the Mexican government had closed the waters to commercial fishing operations, but limited licenses could still be obtained by charter boats.
Jake and Ashby finally located the keys to the facility in a simple metal wall safe that appeared to be an electrical panel. It took Jake longer to open the ten-by-thirteen-inch cabinet than a full-size door, but eventually it succumbed to the blade of his knife.
“There aren’t very many, considering the number of buildings,” Ashby remarked as she counted the eight keys on the ring.
Jake led Ashby to the front door and the two stuck their heads out into the night air. “My guess is some of these are master keys. Man, the sun disappeared quickly tonight. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Suddenly a crackling and hissing sound occurred, causing them both to instinctively duck. Jake raised his weapon and began pointing it from side to side, seeking out any threat.
The source of the odd noise eventually revealed itself as lights came on throughout the compound. Streetlights, together with ground lighting, illuminated the paths between the buildings and the courtyard.
“They must be attached to a light sensor,” said Ashby. “Either that or a timer.”