by Matt Rogers
As they crossed the open space a fight broke out nearby between a group of inmates. The sudden commotion caused King to react reflexively. He shielded Percy with a large hand and searched for the source of the screaming.
Two men brawled in the centre of a pack, vying desperately for the upper hand. A third joined, throwing wild punches with venom behind them. One of the original pair caught a glancing blow across the side of his face, knocking teeth loose. He spat blood and reached into his belt.
‘Oh, that’s not good,’ King whispered.
He came out with a makeshift shank, sharpened from a wooden stake. The guy who’d struck him couldn’t get away in time. He wrapped an arm around his enemy’s neck and viciously punched the tip of the shank into his chest; once, twice, three times. King lost count. The motions had the intent to kill behind them. The victim spluttered crimson and his eyes glazed over. Blood pooled from multiple stab wounds dotted across his torso, covering the attacker. He threw the stake away and let out a primal scream, his arms stained red.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Percy whispered.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ King said.
They pressed on through the madness. The spontaneity of the killing had taken him by surprise, but he imagined such a sight was a fairly common occurrence within these seemingly lawless walls. Just another reminder to secure a room before he found a shank sliding between his shoulder blades while he slept.
The hallway was dank and decrepit at this time of the day. It was approaching midday, and the sun had reached its apex in the sky. Only a sliver of natural light made it into the corridor. Percy walked timidly behind King. He heard the pitter-patter of the man’s feet. Like he didn’t want to disturb the residents.
Unfortunately, residents have to be disturbed, King thought.
He chose a room at random. One of the doors close enough to the pavilion to provide a means of escape into open ground should the opportunity be necessary. Far enough away from Tevin’s room to be able to prepare for an all-out assault. The door was shut. King looked back at Percy.
‘Maybe stay out in the hallway while I deal with this,’ he said.
‘W-what?’
‘They might not be too happy that I’m crashing their party.’
Percy looked at him, still perplexed. ‘Who are you?’
‘Just a guy.’
King thundered a foot into the door. It was weak, like Tevin’s. It sprang open, revealing another pair of bunk beds in a semi-spacious room that smelt like shit, just like everything else in El Infierno. Apart from the thin frames, the room was completely bare. Three tattooed muscle-bound thugs dozed in separate bunks.
One reacted faster than the other two. As King stormed into the room he swung his legs off the flimsy mattress and got to his feet.
‘Qué coño haces, gringo?!’ he roared.
King punched him in the teeth, mid-sentence. Blood sprayed and he fell back in a tangle of limbs. The other two launched out of their bunks, spurred on by adrenalin. They charged across the room at him. One had both hands up, balled into fists. King ignored him. The other was in the process of reaching for something in his belt, running with an awkward gait to compensate for the movement.
He’s a problem.
King bolted directly at the man scrambling at his waistband. It wasn’t a large room. By the time he produced the pistol, King was on top of him. He tackled the guy into the concrete wall, knocking him senseless. The gun clattered away. King pinpointed where the sound came from. In one motion he turned and dove. Fingers scrambling for the weapon. He saw it a second before he snatched it up.
Another Zamorana.
Seemed like the only thing going on the black market around here.
They must have missed it during the raqueta.
He sensed movement directly behind him. He turned and put a bullet into the third man’s foot. A geyser of blood fountained from the wound and the guy dropped like a sack of shit, reeling from the nerve damage. King had suffered a similar injury back in Australia. It had taken months to fully heal. The scar tissue remained.
He tucked the gun into his own waistband and took his time hurling the three men out into the hallway, one by one. The first man he’d punched in the teeth put up somewhat of a fight. He swung wildly, managing to clip King in the ear. He shrugged it off and returned with a blow of his own.
The patented liver shot.
Every ounce of fight in the man dissipated instantly. He groaned from somewhere deep within. King tossed him out after his friends. The three goons collapsed in the mud outside, dirtying their clothes — which were already putrid in the first place.
King loomed in the doorway and tapped the barrel of the Zamorana against the frame.
‘Anyone tries to come back and I kill you,’ he said, slowly and succinctly in an attempt to cross the language barrier.
To make sure they got the message, he mimed firing a shot at each man successively. They watched him from the ground like he was a lunatic.
He beckoned Percy inside, slammed the door shut and left the previous occupants to pick themselves up.
The dilapidated interior of the room was unpleasant to say the least, but at least it provided protection from a sneak attack. There was one way in, and one way out. There were no windows whatsoever, making it a little more cramped than Tevin’s room. But it meant they could barricade the door and take cover in the vulnerable hours of the night ahead, when they needed rest. Then they could head back out into the pavilion during the daytime. Fully alert. Ready to go.
‘Are you tired?’ King said.
Percy looked at him as if he were crazy. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a week,’ he answered.
‘You’ll manage eventually.’
King selected one of the beds and stretched out on it, keeping a finger tucked inside the Zamorana’s trigger guard — just in case. In the sudden quiet, Percy’s panicked breathing filled the confined space. King listened to it for a few minutes. He kept his mouth shut, deciding not to overload the man with information just yet. He needed time to process what had happened to him. Even though he could handle the drastic change of surroundings that came with being thrown inside a third-world prison, he didn’t imagine an ordinary civilian could.
He drifted into a state of tranquility. It came naturally to him. After spending years scouting enemy strongholds in the far corners of the globe, he found it effortless to tune out and simply be. He lay on the bed. He watched the door. He controlled his breathing. He didn’t let his mind wander. Percy sat sideways on the bed opposite, intermittently rubbing his eyeballs.
After what could have been close to a couple of hours, the man spoke. The words came quickly, in an outburst, like he’d been mustering the courage to talk for a long while. ‘How-are-you-doing-this?’
King rolled on his side and raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’
Percy repeated the question, slower, more controlled.
‘What do you mean exactly?’ King said.
‘I’ve never been more scared in my life,’ Percy said. ‘I think I’m going to vomit. How are you coping? This seems like just another day to you.’
‘Because it’s just that,’ King said. ‘Just another day.’
‘It’s madness! A few days ago I was holed up in a cubicle, filing tax returns. This is total fucking madness…’
‘To you it is. I’ve had certain life experiences that — to be honest — are far worse than this. These people are civilians. Sure, they’re violent drug addicts, most of them, but they’re just low-level gangsters and thugs. It’s all about perspective.’
‘You’re not scared of them?’
The conversation oddly mirrored Raul’s sentiments at breakfast.
‘I’m just as scared as you are,’ King said. ‘I feel the fear. I experience the same things you’re experiencing right now. You feel nauseous. Your throat’s dry. Your hands are shaking. But I control it. I compare the situation I’m in to ones I’ve been in before.
Then it doesn’t sound so bad.’
‘You used to be a soldier, didn’t you?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Prefer not to talk about it?’
‘You got it.’
Percy nodded. ‘Isn’t it ironic?’
‘What?’
‘The one time I decided to stray from the typical straight-shooter existence that I’ve been living my entire life, I end up here. In this place. The worst hellhole imaginable.’
‘There’s worse places than this.’
‘But you’re some kind of superhuman,’ Percy said. ‘Us normal folk lose our minds when this kind of stuff happens to us. Not sure if you understand that.’
‘Oh, I understand alright. I was exactly like you.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘That’s why I joined the military in the first place. Had high levels of anxiety growing up. Everything freaked me out. I’m naturally introverted. Then I signed up to serve my country and things ramped up from there. First time I got shot at, I thought I was going to die from a heart attack. I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. You want normality.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to live a peaceful life now. Seems like I keep getting sucked back into shit like this.’
‘What happened to you to change you into who you are now?’
‘My career happened.’
‘The one you’d prefer not to discuss?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘You’re scarred from it?’
‘I don’t know,’ King said again. ‘I honestly have no idea. I think death became such a recurring aspect of my life that these situations feel like nothing out of the ordinary.’
Percy smiled. ‘We’re the exact opposite.’
‘Are we?’
‘I’ve never been in trouble. Seems like you’ve never been out of it.’
King nodded, running a hand over the Zamorana. ‘Seems that way.’
‘I—’ Percy began.
King cut him off. ‘Look, Percy, I’ve had a hell of a lot going on the last couple of days. We got ourselves a room. We have all the time in the world to talk later. Right now, I need some rest.’
Percy nodded. ‘Got it.’
‘If I doze off, just yell as loud as you can if you hear anything suspicious. Or if the door opens. Got that?’
He nodded again. ‘Yep.’
The afternoon passed fast. They remained undisturbed. Every now and then King would wake to movement on the other side of the door, but it would quickly dissipate. Just prisoners passing by.
Nothing threatening.
Not yet.
His sense of time all but vanished in the space. The bulb on the ceiling didn’t rise or set. It stayed soft and flickering for hours. Without venturing out into the main area, King wouldn’t know when it was dark. And he didn’t dare leave the room. He’d made a lot of enemies during his brief time in El Infierno. Right now, he was priority number one on many hit lists. He wanted to let the nervous energy dissipate before he considered showing his face again.
At some point, Percy piped up. ‘I’m getting really tired.’
King smiled. ‘What did I tell you? You dumped all your energy when you came in here. Now you’ve crashed.’
‘Do you mind if—?’
‘Not at all. Get some sleep, Percy. I think we’re in for a long night ahead.’
King trained the barrel of the Zamorana on the closed door, well-rested and alert. If Tevin or his men or any of the thugs in the pavilion decided to bull rush their room, King would make sure he killed as many of them as possible with the fourteen rounds left in the magazine.
Because that’s what you do best, a voice in the back of his head whispered. That’s all you’re good at.
That’s all you’ll ever be.
CHAPTER 19
Almost exactly four hours later — according to the rough estimate of a clock in his head — King heard Percy jolt awake in a cold sweat. Perspiration dotted the man’s brow. He wiped his forehead with a filthy buttoned shirt and gazed around the empty room.
‘Fuck,’ he whispered. ‘Had a nightmare.’
‘Think you’ll survive?’ King said.
The corners of Percy’s mouth upturned slightly. He gave King a resigned look. ‘Still felt worse waking up to reality.’
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to hear that nothing happ—’
The door swung open, flooding the room with light from the hallway. Wide-eyed, King whipped the Zamorana into position, barrel fixed on the door. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness. Two figures loomed in the doorway. If he saw they had any kind of hostile intentions, he would empty the contents of the pistol in their direction.
But they weren’t armed.
They even had their hands raised in the air, signifying their lack of weapons.
It was the twins from the pavilion.
Raul and Luis.
King recognised them, but he did not yet trust them. ‘What do you want?’
‘To talk to you,’ Raul said.
‘So talk.’
‘We would both appreciate it if you lowered the weapon.’
‘Close the door behind you,’ King said.
The pair moved further into the room and shut the door, sending the room back into half-light, illuminated dimly by the weak bulb fixed into the ceiling. Raul and Luis sat on the empty lower bunk and rested their elbows on their knees. They both gave Percy a quick nod. He stared back, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen the twins before. King came to the conclusion that neither man was a threat and decided to lower the Zamorana.
‘We hear you’re in a bit of a predicament,’ Raul said.
‘I am,’ King said. ‘Tevin wants me dead.’
‘Why don’t you kill him?’
‘I’m getting close to doing just that.’
‘Then what?’
‘Huh?’
‘What will you do after you kill him?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.’
‘A lot of men in here depend on Tevin. He brings them good food, he brings them guns, he gives them whatever drugs they’re after. I don’t think it’s a wise idea to kill him by yourself.’
‘So what are you suggesting I do?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ Raul said. ‘But we are both willing to help you with whatever you decide on.’
‘You are?’
‘We’ve never been huge fans of what Tevin’s doing here. He’s started charging a protection fee to most of the pavilion. He gets us to ask the guards to retrieve money from our families or friends, and then we pay him to leave us alone. It’s getting too much. Most of us don’t like him. We just put up with him because he has the final say on everything around here.’
‘But he still has a lot of friends?’
Raul nodded. ‘Many will still stick up for him if we attack. But if we find enough who dislike him, we might get enough men on our side to lead to a stand-off.’
‘Then what?’
‘There’ll either be an all out war, or nothing. My guess is it will grow too large to justify conflict. If we get enough people involved, a battle will end up killing most of the men in here. I don’t think anyone wants that.’
‘Why are you getting involved at all?’ King said. ‘It’s probably safer to just keep to yourself.’
‘I respect you,’ Raul said. ‘I respect what you’re doing here. You’re not just rolling over for Tevin like everyone else does. I think others may feel the same; they’re just not vocalising it. It’s been a while since Tevin’s made an enemy with competence. And I wouldn’t mind seeing this place shaken up. It’s a madhouse as it is right now.’
‘Is this the only pavilion in El Infierno?’
Raul laughed and shook his head. ‘I think there’s six. Four for men, two for women. Plus private cells for privileged inmates.’
‘Why isn’t T
evin in a private cell?’
‘He’s on top in here, but out there he’s nobody. He’s been in here long enough to wiggle his way into an authoritative position, but that doesn’t mean anything to the outside world. It’s the businessmen and those with family money that get special privileges — because they can afford it. Tevin makes a bit through profits off his drug and gun running … but in the grand scheme of things it’s very little.’
‘Then I say we finish him off,’ King said. ‘It’s doing no-one any good to wait around like this for someone to jump us. I’ll go in there now and shoot him and his two bodyguards dead.’
‘You do that now,’ Raul said, ‘and you’ll be dead yourself within minutes. He has too many of them on the payroll. You’re a good fighter but you can’t take on the entire pavilion at once.’
King nodded. ‘So we get more men. I have cash on me which I haven’t shown to anyone yet. I can pay for help.’
‘How much do you have?’
‘Almost fifty thousand bolivares.’
Raul let out a low whistle. ‘Any of them catch wind that you have that kind of money on you and they’ll swarm you like vultures. Keep that to yourself.’
He turned to his brother and spoke in a hushed tone. King’s Spanish was not good enough to translate efficiently. He let the two converse for a minute, then Luis got to his feet and made for the door. On the way out, he nodded at King, a seemingly friendly gesture. Then he left the room, moving fast.
‘He likes you,’ Raul noted.
‘He said that?’ King said.
‘Many times. He’s still in awe, I think. The way you fought back against the guard, the way you fight back against everyone.’
‘Just who I am.’
‘I like it too.’
‘How did you two end up in here anyway?’
Raul sighed and bowed his head, recalling traumatic memories. ‘We both were sent here a year ago. I still can’t believe it all happened.’
‘What happened?’
‘We both worked for the Agente De Mudanzas for a few months. In English, that means Movers.’
‘I know,’ King said. ‘I learnt some rudimentary Spanish. Many years ago.’