“You sure you can trust this gringo, Eddie?”
“Yeah, this shit is routine with me and Titus. We’ll take the brick in there, and Titus will be sitting on a bench under a little light pole. He’ll have two guys standing off on the edge of the clearing. Ignore them. They’re just there for show, like you two. I’ll give him the coke, he’ll give me a paper bag with the money in it, and then we all go home happy.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. We’ll make the exchange, and four hours later we’ll be back in Galveston. Then I’ll be telling Emilio you two passed with flying colors. So don’t get nervous and start reaching for anything. That will make his guys nervous, and then something stupid might happen. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good, because I sure as hell don’t want to be telling Emilio we got into a night time shootout with a bunch of rednecks just because somebody got twitchy.”
“Okay, Eddie…we got it.”
The breath of the three men packed in the car started to fog the windshield, and Eddie leaned forward to wipe it clear. While this exchange may have been the milk run he described to his cousin, he still didn’t believe in letting himself get blinded to his surroundings. Relaxed was good, but carelessness could be lethal. He hadn’t lived this long by being careless.
Two blocks ahead, a car flashed its headlights twice then pulled away from the curb. It passed them on its way back up the street beside the park.
“Okay.” Eddie reached over and pulled a lunchbox out from under the passenger side dashboard. “That’s the signal all’s clear. You two stay behind me and do whatever I tell you.”
The three men got out of the car and into the cool Texas night.
Moisture hung in the air like a shroud, creating halos around the street lights down the road. Water dripped from power lines and nearby trees. The trio to pull their jackets around them as they waded into the underbrush. They were three shadows, stepping into the blackness under the trees.
Eddie pushed ahead though the soggy terrain, his two henchmen-in-training in tow.
Their feet dragged through the slushy mounds of dead leaves, broadcasting their progress to anybody within a hundred feet. They pushed through the sodden brush, adding to the din. Eddie took comfort in the noise, knowing their loud approach would set their armed customers at ease. Titus was solid, and had no reason to antagonize Emilio by ripping off his representatives, but paranoia still ruled in this business.
The glow of a light post beckoned ahead, but the three drug runners resisted the urge to hurry. They proceeded with caution as they approached the clearing. Visibility improved as they reached the edge of the brush along the open area..
Eddie held up his hand and brought his little troop to a halt.
Something was wrong.
He could see no sign of Titus’ thugs anywhere in the clearing, and the person who sat on the bench under the path light was not Titus. A quick scan of the area revealed nobody else…no indication of the transaction scheduled to take place.
Only an old woman, in an ancient style bonnet and shawl, hunched over some garment she knitted on the bench. She appeared to ignore them as they moved out of the brush and onto the path. Eddie kept an eye on her, while examining the area for any other person he might have missed.. Nothing but the click of her needles carried through the silence of the heavy air, emphasizing the hush of the moment.
Carlos and Rueben’s heads swiveled in a continual nervous scan of the shadows and even Eddie started to get a first class case of the creeps.
Where the hell was Titus?
“Titus ain’t comin’.”
The three of them almost jumped out of their skins, startled by the way the old woman’s voice broke the silence. They stared at each other, and then back at the woman. She continued to look down at her knitting, clicking her needles at a steady pace.
“Where is he?” Eddie tried to keep the nervousness down in his voice and make a demand of it. He didn’t want to show fear of some old woman, especially in front of his cousin and friend.
“That ain’t none of your concern, boy. The only thing that matters to you is your money is in this here bag beside me. So quit jawin’ and drop what you brought with you, pick up your money, and git!”
She gestured at a paper bag beside her, then returned to her knitting.
Eddie Vega stared in disbelieving outrage at the old woman.
Who the hell did she think she talked to, that she could speak down to him like that? He was one of Emilio the Coyote’s right hand men. He had put men in their graves for less disrespect than this old bag gave him! He was…
“What you are, boy, is workin’ yourself up to die over somethin’ stupid. The money’s all there. Count it if you want to. But take it and git. I’m gettin’ cold.”
Was this woman serious?
Eddie looked back over his shoulder, to see his two companions looking at him with wide-eyed shock. Anger started to squirm in his gut like a coiled viper. This old witch had no business talking to him like this, especially in front of his men.
“I don’t know you.” He turned back to the old woman. “I’m here to deal with Titus. Either he comes out right now, or I walk.”
The old woman shook her head, still seeming to concentrate on her needles.
“Pride is a hell of a thing,” she sighed aloud. “It’s been too long. I should have expected this, and not made things worse.”
“What are you talking about, woman? Where is Titus! Look at me!”
“Titus is dead,” she snapped at her knitting, “because I needed him dead. I don’t need you dead so you can still walk away from this…with your money, too. But your time is runnin’ out.
“Hey, Eddie. Maybe we ought to…”
“Maybe you ought to shut up, Carlos! This old witch doesn’t seem to understand there are rules to this business.” He reached into his jacket and pulled the pistol out of his belt. “Look at me, woman!”
“You’re makin’ a mistake.” Her knitting never missed a beat.
He pointed the gun at her head.
“I said look at me when I’m talking to you!”
“This is your last chance, boy. Take the money.”
“No, this is your last chance, bruja. NOW LOOK AT ME!”
For a moment, he wondered if she would ignore him again. Her needles kept their rhythm for a few seconds more, as she came to the end of a row of stitches. Then she paused in her knitting. With another shake of her head and what sounded like a low chuckle, the old woman carefully folded the garment on her lap and set it aside.
And then she looked up into the gun.
“Madre de Dios!” Rueben muttered behind him, and Eddie noticed Carlos crossing himself out of the corner of his eye. He suppressed a gasp himself as her features became visible, and reflexively tightened his grip on the gun.
The old woman’s eyes were sewn shut.
Thick, dark thread in clumsy crossed stitches sealed her eyelids together, glaring out against her pale wrinkled skin. Scars on her eyelids bore witness that the process had been inexplicably undone and repeated more than once. And freshly scabbed blood around the suture holes showed the last re-stitching to be recent. Her mouth cracked into a horrid grin, with rotting brown stumps of teeth that tilted like old fence posts in her half empty gums, and the foulness of her breath reached him through the night air and made him want to gag.
“Boo!” she hissed, then broke out into a long cackling laugh as Eddie jumped away.
“You think this is funny, puta?” He aimed his weapon at her again. “I don’t give a shit if you are blind, I’ll blow your goddamned head off!”
She stopped laughing long enough to stroke her chin and grin at him as if the gun wasn’t even there.
“Time’s up, boy,” she chuckled. “You had your chance. Now let’s see which of us is truly blind.”
Then she vanished.
Gone.
Without a trace.
T
he three drug runners gaped at the empty space occupied by the crone only a second ago. There had been no puff of smoke, no “poof,” and no motion … only an immediate absence of the old woman. Nothing remained to suggest she ever sat there in the first place. Nothing at all.
Silence fell over the area, without even crickets or frogs to liven the cool winter night.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
“Screw this, Eddie.” Carlos backed away from where the hag once sat and sidled toward the trees, “This shit is messed up! I’m getting aiiiiIIIEEEEEE!!!!”
Several long, black, segmented legs stretched down from the foliage above and snatched Carlos up into the branches. His screams receded as whatever had him pulled him higher into the darkness. Eddie and Rueben watched in horror as the treetop thrashed while their partner’s shrieks tore through the night. Eddie pointed his pistol up into the murky canopy, but had no target and feared hitting his cousin.
Rueben had no such compunction, and fired two quick shots up at the tree.
“What are you shooting at?!” Eddie yelled at him. “Carlos is up there! You’ll hit him!”
The man ignored him and fired again. The cries above them sounded even more desperate and agonized than before.
“Stop it! You’ll hit Carlos!”
“So what!” Rueben glared at him with eyes so wide their whites almost glowed in the dim light. “That thing is killing him anyway! Why the hell didn’t you shoot the witch when you had the chance?!”
As if to emphasize the man’s point, Carlos’ screams stopped.
They ended so abruptly it was as if somebody threw a switch, once more leaving the park in eerie silence. The thrashing ceased, and the foliage above them grew still. Nothing but the harsh breathing of two frightened men broke the quiet.
Then the barking of distant neighborhood dogs, disturbed by the screams and gunfire, began to fill the night.
“Oh shit,” Rueben breathed, “the cops are going to be here. We gotta run!”
“No, wait!”
Rueben wasn’t listening. He bolted up the path, away from the tree Carlos disappeared into and in the direction of the front of the park.
“Rueben!”
The runner ignored him, accelerating up the pathway in a mad dash. Then, precisely as he passed between two trees he jerked to an abrupt stop…
…as if he had run into something Eddie couldn’t see.
Rueben screamed anew, and thrashed there in the path like he was caught in the grip of something invisible. Eddie had a horrible intuition of what that something might be, and a couple of seconds later his guess was confirmed.
A hideous silhouette detached itself from the trunk of one of the trees, and scuttled on the unseen web over to the struggling figure. It was the size of a large dog, and Rueben shrieked in high-pitched terror as it reached him. His screams cut through the night as the horror danced around his body and head. Its abdomen dipped as it threw barely seen sheets of silk over the writhing form and its legs moved in a rhythmic pattern, further entwining the thug in its web.
“Eddie! Help me!” Rueben regained the ability for words, only to have the shape dance around his head some more and gag him with silk. Eddie could only watch as his partner struggled for his life, tearing at the strands with his teeth now that his hands no longer moved.
A second later, the big spider stopped and crouched on the twisting man’s shoulders with its fangs and front two legs raised in the air as if anticipating its next move. Rueben’s cries were now muffled, tearful pleas to some saint who didn’t seem to be listening at the moment. Then he gave an agonized shriek when the monster drove its fangs into the back of his neck.
Rueben gave out a moan, and another couple of feeble twists, then hung still with the spider crouched by his head.
Eddie clutched his own gun, very aware he was the last one left.
He edged away from the tree line and toward the center of the clearing, constantly turning to make sure nothing crept up behind him. The little meadow had no exit that didn’t involve going into the trees, and nothing could force him to risk those again. Whatever terrors prison offered, they paled in comparison to what lurked in the blackness of those woods.
Better to simply wait here and surrender to the cops when they arrived.
“This is a goddamned park,” he muttered to himself. “How in the hell can these monsters live here without somebody noticing?”
“Oh, they’re just visitin’, dearie,” cackled the old woman’s voice behind him.
Eddie whirled, only to have his gun arm caught in an iron grip.
A tall woman, who hadn’t been there one second ago, now grasped his forearm with a strength that threatened to break bone. She had long blonde braids, and angular features currently marred by an angry scowl. Behind her, the old witch leered up at him.
“We brought them along,” the old witch continued, “in case you three turned out to be too stupid to live. And sure enough, you were. All you had to do was pick up your money and leave.”
Eddie cried out as the woman’s grip tightened and his gun fell from his now nerveless fingers. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He had never met a man this strong, much less a woman. His best efforts couldn’t even come close to pulling his arm free. In desperation, he threw a punch at her with his free hand.
It was like hitting a tree.
The blonde glared at him with contemptuous anger, the side of her face reddening from his blow, and twisted his arm in a way that forced him to his knees. Now his shoulder threatened to come loose from its socket as well.
“Easy, girl,” the old woman warned. “We can’t be havin’ any unfortunate breaks for the coroner to puzzle over.” She laid a soothing hand on the younger woman’s arm, and walked around as if to get a better look at the young drug runner feebly struggling in her grip. The old woman gave Eddie a gap-toothed smile, as if she could see him through her laced up eyelids.
“It’s alright boy,” she tutted. “I can see in your line of work, people don’t tend to live long anyway. You always expected to die young.”
She laid a withered hand on his shoulder.
“B-But,” Eddie whimpered, “not like this.”
“No,” she agreed, “probably not like this.”
Her sleeve writhed as if the skin of her arm had come alive, and Eddie screamed as a living carpet of yellow and black spiders poured out over him.
CHAPTER FOUR
HELLOS, FAREWELLS, AND GUNFIRE
Adam high stepped his way across the shag carpet with infinite care.
Rutherford Powell had a taste for extravagant comforts, and his condo was an exhibition of ostentatious wealth. Low thick-cushioned couches, massive leather recliners, and deep shag carpets covered the living area. Each of these confronted Adam with their own peculiar challenges.
The couches were traps from which he could barely escape. Several times he found it necessary to roll out onto the floor and crawl on his hands and knees over to the entertainment center, where he could lever himself to his feet. At least the chairs had arms.
But the carpet was the worst.
Even with his foot drop braces he still managed to snag his toe at least once a day. His cane also caught itself in the deep pile with irritating regularity. He learned in no time at all that he did not dare carry food in this condominium. Every item here seemed expensive, delicate, and designed to trip him up. It was enough to make him yearn for the Spartan existence.
With one exception.
Powell had a massive HDTV in his living room. The mere sight of it made Adam wish for football season. But absent that, he found an even better use for the electronic monstrosity.
He bought a new laptop computer and a long HDMI cable.
Bringing his new prizes home from the store, he unpacked them and went to work. Attaching the HDMI cable to his laptop, he ran it over the marble coffee table and to the back of the huge television. The pressing of a few buttons, a few m
inor tweaks to the computer’s display settings and voila…
…instant Internet in massive, high-definition glory.
He felt like an evil genius, sitting in front of his master view screen, hidden away in his secret lair.
The thought made him chuckle as he made his way across the shag carpet, his spill proof cup of coffee clutched tightly in his hand. One had to take pleasure in the small victories of life, especially when life handed out so many defeats. Now he could work in comfort, without the strain of staring at a small monitor all day.
Calling up an Internet map website, he summoned a satellite view of the cell phone tower that received David’s call. Ellen’s people had worked whatever magic they had and cut the search area in half. He now knew the phone call came from an area within thirty miles of the cell phone tower, but also within a hundred-eighty-degree arc to its south.
It still represented a massive area, but it gave him a place to start.
Pulling back from the cell phone tower, he reached a height from where he could survey the entire area. He studied the countryside from the vantage point of space, then slowly zoomed back in to get a better view. The area consisted mainly of rural farmland, with a few tiny towns thrown in here or there. Some were so small they were only visible when you zoomed in right on top of them, or turned off satellite view and looked at the map instead. A couple weren’t even on the map.
Texas featured many such towns. Communities that withered over the decades when railroads or highways went somewhere else. Some existed as nothing but an overgrown cemetery off in the woods somewhere, with a little green sign on the nearest road. Scant evidence of what might once have been a thriving township. Others might have nothing but a small gas station and store with a few houses nearby. Basically nothing more than wide spots in the road.
Somewhere in that back country maze of pastures, woods, and small roads…David had driven himself and his family into oblivion. Not a single trace left of them. Nothing remained but two cryptic cell phone pictures and the call to give any hint as to their fate.
But when he prodded, something had emerged from that oblivion and came after him with explosive deadliness. Something vicious, with people who demonstrated unbelievable abilities and an unswerving dedication to seeing him dead. And if the old man at the pool was to be believed, that something had Tucker.
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