by Amy Isan
He's close enough for me to make out his features, but I still can't recognize him. He's Hispanic and wearing a white suit, a stetson and sunglasses. He shouts at me: "What the fuck do you want?" His accent is thick and full of anger.
I bite my lip and keep from screaming back. He comes right up to me and grabs my face with his fingers, digging them into my cheeks. He twists my face back and forth. "Fucking crying? What about?"
I shake my head and try to keep my mouth closed despite the pressure from his grip. "You're Logan's bitch, causing all this trouble," he continues. I fight back tears that are welling up in my eyes and try to shake his grip off me. A yell downrange turns his head, and I spit on the back of his neck. His hand instinctively goes to his nape and he turns to me slowly and takes off his sunglasses. "Did you just fucking spit on me?"
I keep my mouth thin-lipped and his friend yells for him again. He turns back and yells something in Spanish in response, before turning to me again. "Fucking do it again, and I'll make sure the next round makes you brain damaged. Not even dead."
"Logan will fucking kill you if you touch me," I say. I breathe deep and stare him down. "You idiots left the map on the computer, he'll find it and find me."
He stares at me and I realize I've done it. He didn't know. Is it a good thing that he knows now? He turns and jogs back down the range and skips over the barrier made of milk crates where the shooter and Damian are. He starts yelling something at Damian, and Damian falls to his knees, begging and grabbing the white-suited man's legs. The white-suited man tears Damian off him and kicks him back against the dirt. The white-suited man nods to the other, and the shooter points at Damian and lets a loud bang ring out. A plume of dust rises into the sky as Damian's body hits the ground and settles. Oh my fucking god they killed him! I scream, unable to contain myself. I squirm harder against the duct tape, but both men notice me and another shot rings off, splintering wood above my head. My ears start ringing as wood chips and splinters fall into my hair.
"Fucking Jesus christ," I scream. My heart is racing. I feel like I'm going to pass out. If I could just get free...
There's a jagged piece of glass near my foot from the broken bottle, but I don't know how I could possibly use it to cut my restraints without them seeing. They're just standing out there, looking at me. Damian's body has ripples of heat coming off of it and I shudder at the image. It has to be a mirage, it has to be.
This has to be a dream.
After kicking the body, the man in the white suit climbs over the milk crates and hikes back up-range to face me again. I try to look as unaffected as possible, despite feeling the dry channels of tears on my cheeks. He grins as he gets closer and I can make out his face again.
"Señorita, see what happens when you fuck with us?"
"You're psychopaths, that's all I see."
He reels his hand back to slap me, but hesitates as I keep my eyes locked on his. Is he heeding my warning about Logan? He kicks at my shin and I groan in surprise and pain. "Stupid bitch," he says. He spits on the ground and kicks at me again. I try and not scream, but it's hard. Logan will find me, won't he? I have to trust him.
"What do you even want with me?" I beg.
He shakes his head and chuckles like I'm a fool. I frown and want to spit on him again, but resist if it'll mean he'll break my shin. Or worse. "We know you're with Logan, and he's fucking around where his nose don't belong in our turf."
I can't help but smile a little, which makes his face transform from sarcastic to aggressive.
He kicks me again and spits on me. I bite back a scream and he turns his back on me and heads back down the range. I try and burn holes into the back of his head, but he doesn't even flinch.
Logan, what the fuck did you get me into?
A small vibration echoes off the hills around me. A motorcycle? The men down-range both look toward the road, and the one checks his gun. I stare down at the shard of glass and try to nudge it closer with my foot. I manage to scrape it against the dirt and bring it between my feet, but now what? It's a good thing they only taped my arms and upper body against the telephone pole. I wiggle and try to pick up the shard with my feet, but it slips free and tumbles. God dammit.
A plume of dust and smoke rise in the distance, behind the hills. It has to be Logan. The distinctive sound of his motorcycle grows louder, until it's swarming in the hot air. I stretch and managed to scrape the shard closer to me. I pinch it between my feet and try and lift it up, my muscles straining. I squeeze my abs as hard as possible to raise myself off the ground.
The men are still facing away, so I can't hesitate for a moment. I thrash as much as I can, while still keeping hard pressure on the glass with my feet. I eventually get lucky and the sharp edge of the glass strikes the lowest band of duct tape, cutting it and weakening it. I strain and thrash more, feeling sweat bead and drip down my forehead, catching and following the dried riverbeds on my cheeks.
Logan is getting closer, and I need to be able to help him. I can't be a useless burden again. I won't watch him fucking kill someone while I'm frozen on the ground in horrified panic. I've come this far, and there's no turning back now. I tear apart the bottom strap of duct tape and feel the rest of the tape-cocoon loosen around me. Now, I have more maneuverability and manage to thread my arm between two bands and grab the glass to free myself.
The sharp edge slices deep into my palm and I wince, but finish cutting the tape until I'm free.
The motorcycle is closer than ever, and just about to crest the final hill. I turn back run to hide behind one of the steel plates that's resting against the back of the range. I can still see down-range, but I should be safe if they look back and realize I'm gone. For a little bit.
I pull out my gun and check that it's still loaded. The four brass rounds with silver dots shine back at me, and I click the cylinder closed. I swallow my spit as Logan appears in a cloud of dust and smoke. Blood drips down the handle of the gun, but I ignore it and just tighten my grip on it. I need to do this.
CHAPTER 5 — LOGAN
I'm nearly at the shooting range. Every time I crest a hill, I can briefly see the outline of the long milk crates and shooting platform. As I get closer, I spot a white van. Then, two people standing at the range aiming down it as if they're practicing on a target. I'm sure they're well aware of me coming, since my motorcycle is so loud. But that's okay. I want them to know. I want them to be scared.
Two men are standing at the front of the range, and I slow my bike down and brace myself. One man is wielding a gun, and the other is dressed in a white suit, the same suit from the drug drop. Victor Martinez. The guy with the gun must be one of the Samson brothers, but I don't really care to ask for his name.
Their eyes are looking at me like I'm a piece of steaming meat. No words are exchanged as I power down the bike and climb off. A body is crumpled on the ground near them... and I immediately know who it is.
Damian. Fucking Damian is dead.
"Just stop right there," the man with the gun says as he points it at me. I hold my hands up and squint in the sunlight, peeling my eyes away from Damian's body. I stare at the men, judging them, trying to gauge what they plan to do. Fucking animals. The guy with the gun tilts his head as he turns to Victor. "This the guy?"
"Yeah it's him. Bomb."
I look around and try and find Cassie. She's nowhere to be seen. There looks like there is some shit at the back of the range, but she must be in the van that's behind me. I can't make any false moves, especially if a stray bullet will get her killed. I shouldn't have left her alone. I keep my arms stiff and stop looking around. "What do you want with me?"
"Honestly I'm disappointed in Damian," Victor Martinez says. He kicks the body on the ground and it slides a bit on the loose dirt. "Fucking ratting out on us before we could make use of the girl."
"Where is she?" I ask, hoping I didn't just make a grave mistake. The man in the white suit idly waves down the range without looking, and I stare p
ast his hand. She's out there? I don't see her... I nod anyway, and look back at him. My gun is holstered in my jeans, and there's no way I can reach it with them trained on me like two dogs ready to kill. I need time. I need a distraction.
"What do you want?" I repeat. "What the fuck do you want? I just talked to Gustavo. He said some shit about wanting the Skeletons and Ruin Outlaws fighting and keeping the status quo in Arizona. What does that shit have to do with Cassie?"
"Ah, Cassie is her name, huh?" Victor says. He starts walking towards me. I don't twitch, even when his breath threatens to choke me. He gives me a wicked grin and flashes his teeth at me. "I assure you it isn't shit, it's business." He reaches behind my back and pulls my gun out from my jeans. I want to spit in his face. Dammit.
He twirls the pistol in his hand and laughs. "You bikers are all the same, thinking you're strong and tough, but you're not. Just a bunch of stray dogs fighting over kibble." He pockets my gun and turns to his associate, before glancing down the range. "Where the fuck did she go?" His tone is one of genuine surprise. The gun man turns to look down the range, and I take my opportunity.
I take a step forward and wrap my arm around Victor's throat before dragging him back until I'm against the van. He lets out a wet cough, and his friend turns on me and raises his gun. With Victor shielding me, I don't have much to worry about.
I fumble around for my pistol and retrieve it from Victor's pocket and aim at the gun man. A standoff. He doesn't flinch, and Victor seems a little too pleased with it all, only barely struggling. "Logan, did you really think this would work?" he asks me.
I squeeze my arm tighter around Victor's throat. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up."
Keeping my aim and eyes focused on the gun man, I notice movement behind the hill next to the range. I don't avert my eyes, but bide my time. I pull the gun back and place the barrel against Victor's temple. Now he's squirming, the cold steel making him turn into a mewling coward. He tries to fight off my grip, but with anger and adrenaline coursing through me, he'll never win.
Victor chokes. "You're making a mistake."
"I don't care."
"What do you think will happen when Gustavo finds out what you did?"
"I don't care. Whatever your stupid plans were, they're not gonna happen now. You can't make the crews fight for your own benefit." I push the gun harder against his temple and he lets out a small cry.
Victor raises his hand and points behind the gun man. But he's too late. Cassie steps out from behind the hill and dashes behind the gun man, catching him off guard. She's fast, faster than I thought she could be, and she slides her foot and slams it into the man's heel. As he reels in surprise, Cassie grabs his shoulder and jams something into his back hard enough to make him stiffen instantly. Her gun.
I can barely see her face past the man's frame, but she looks frenzied. Her eyes are wild and have dark circles under them. And even from this distance, I can tell that the hand she's gripping his shoulder with is shaking. Victor cries out just as a muffled bang goes off and throws the gun man forward, knocking his face to the dirt and revealing Cassie with blood sprayed on her forearms and gun. She raises her gun to Victor and starts walking toward us, her eyes blue as ice. Her expression made of stone.
"Let me have this one," she says, her voice almost unrecognizable it's so filled with adrenaline. I release Victor and she grabs him by the wrist and takes him to the ground. I can't believe she's doing any of this, but she seems so calm about it. Victor is losing his cool rapidly, and he starts squirming to try and fight her off as she stomps her foot against his chest to hold him still. She points her gun at his face and he freezes solid, only melting a little with tears streaming down his cheeks onto the dry dirt.
Blood drips from the end of her barrel down onto his face, and each drop makes him wince in fear. "Actually, do you want to take care of this piece of shit?" she asks, looking at me. Her arms and legs are shaking and her resolve is fading away. I nod and step forward, before kneeling down next to Victor. I dig my gun against his head.
"Now, explain to me again, what's going to happen when Gustavo finds out I've killed his brother and intend to take over your trade?" He whimpers. I slam my fist into the ground and he squeezes his eyes shut like I just kicked him. "Tell me!"
"I don't know how you're going to do all that with that pathetic crew of yours. Gustavo will hunt you down. He'll find you and won't stop until you're dead. It won't matter if you make it back to Arizona."
"Why did you take Cassie?"
"Just as a warning. We were going to shoot her up and start mailing you bits of her body."
"I thought you were an admirable businessman, if just a little sleazy for trying to fuck us over in the desert that day. But now I know you're just a coward hiding behind the real power. I'm going back to Arizona. I'll tell Surge everything your brother and you have been doing, and we'll take you down together."
Victor laughs. His laugh is just as chilling as his brother's. I want to beat him for laughing at me, making me look like an idiot. He looks from me to Cassie. "What? You don't know?"
"Know what?" I ask. Cassie leans forward and puts more weight on Victor's chest, which makes him wheeze like a toy.
"That —," he coughs, "Surge already knows. How did you think we knew you were here? How did you think the drug drop was set up? You've been a fucking pawn this entire time. He knew what he was getting into when he started working with us."
"Stop. You're full of shit. I've known Surge longer than anyone."
Victor wheezes again. "Since California, huh?"
I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. I don't have to believe the words of a dead man," I say. Cassie slams her foot down on his ribs and makes him gasp. I stand up and guide her backwards with my arm. Then, I shoot Victor dead.
Fragments of skull and viscera coat the desert, not only from Victor, but Damian and the other henchman as well. I look at Cassie and meet her eyes.
As soon as I do, she collapses to her knees and starts sobbing. I kneel down next to her and comfort her as best I can. I'm still dazed and distant from the killing. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.
"I know," I say. "I know." And she clutches my arm and sobs deeper.
"I thought I was going to die," she says.
"You didn't though." I pause and let her cool a little. "I saw that look you had in your eyes, I had the same feeling with Rattlesnake. When you're fighting for your life, there aren't rules." I pause. "Especially when you're fighting to save the life of someone you love."
She stares at me and nods. She embraces me deeply, her hair catching on my face from my stubble.
After a few moments, I help her to her feet. "We have to leave town tonight. There's too much connected to us here. I don't believe Victor about Surge, but I do believe him about Gustavo. We need to get back to the States and warn the others. Even the Skeletons if we have to."
She nods silently and follows my lead to the back of the van. I pause and turn to face her. She stumbles forward and wraps her arms around my neck and we share a deep kiss. Its depth isn't like anything else I've experienced. Pure bliss.
My heart throbs as her wet tears fall to my cheeks and slide off my chin. Time doesn't exist. I don't want to bring her back to the horror of reality, so I keep kissing her, holding her close, and telling her everything is going to be okay.
It has to be, I won't let it go any other way. Not anymore.
Gustavo or Surge. Someone needs to answer for this shit. But who is it going to be?
I release her for a moment and open the back of the van. The cash from the duffel bag is stacked in a corner, along with a couple of other bags and ammunition. I resist pocketing any more ammo, but I need the cash. I grab it and Cassie helps me carry it back to the motorcycle, where we stuff it into the saddlebags. We drop our guns on top. I consider that we might have to ditch all of it if we want to get back into the States. I don't know if it'll be as easy to bribe someone on this side of t
he fence.
Still holding onto me, she climbs onto my motorcycle. I sit in front of her and start the engine, before starting the race back to town. I'll never see this shooting range again.
And I'm glad for it.
. . .
The sun sets on the horizon and fills Nogales with an orange glow that makes the town look unaffected, almost bored with everything that just happened in the desert. It almost makes me sick. We are only in the town for a brief couple of moments as I race past the stopped and startled cars, making our way back to the border.
It'll be a short drive back up, but the real challenge will be actually crossing. We still can't risk trying to find a portion that isn't fenced so I can get my bike across. To make matters worse, we both look like we've been in a gun fight. We'll have to take a less traveled route, maybe further west than Nogales. Those port of entries are less... guarded.
I clench my jaw and feel Cassie's grip tighten around my waist. Even with the desert heat and sun cooking me alive in my clothes, I can still feel the heat radiating off of her. I can still smell her. She washes over me like a river drowning its banks. The orange light creates a haze in the sky and blocks some of the lights from the border crossing station.
We have to make it across. Even if we have to ditch everything to do it. Money, guns — my motorcycle — it doesn't matter. I won't run anymore. I have to talk to Surge about everything.
"Logan...?" Cassie whispers in my ear. I strain to listen, and feel my grip on the throttle loosen a little.
"What's up?"
"I'm bleeding," she says. Without hesitation, I swerve to the side of the road and stop the bike with a jolt. I climb off and grab her. My mind is racing.
"Where? Were you shot?" I frantically pat her over, trying to see if there's blood staining her clothes. Why didn't I notice before! The darkening sky makes it hard to see. She holds up her right hand and there's a gash across her palm, dark blood is oozing from the wound. "Jesus, why didn't you say anything?"