Dos

by Allen Gamboa

  Doc cursed from the pain of the watch being ground into his wrist. As the flesh eater bent down to take another bite, Morgan jerked the undead soldier off Doc and shoved him to the ground.

  “He’s dead, Sarge!” Doc shouted as he gripped his throbbing wrist. “He’s fucking dead!”

  Morgan struck the corpse with his rifle butt knocking it back away from the other team members. Hale ran up from the rear of the group and quickly drew his Beretta. Amatuzo had become just like the other cannibals that had attacked them earlier. Hale pointed the pistol at Amatuzo’s’ biting jaws and fired. There was a smacking sound as the round snapped the dead man’s head back, tossing him over onto his side where he lay unmoving.

  “What the fuck?” Duley rolled to his feet and pointed at the re-killed corpse. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Motherfucker! You better stop, you douche bag!” Cross’s voice echoed loudly throughout the team’s headsets, causing the already jumpy soldiers to immediately spin in her direction. The team turned in the nick of time to see Cross tackling the fleeing Camacho to the ground. The soldiers watched as the redhead rode on the back of cartel man as he slid face first across the hard cobblestones. When Camacho came to a halt, Cross quickly climbed over the top of the drug lord and planted her knee in the back of his neck.

  “You okay, Cross?” Morgan asked as he approached the soldier who now had the cartel thug pressed to the ground with her right knee and was rubbing her jaw with her other hand.

  “Scumbag tried to head butt me and ran for it.” She ground her other knee into the middle of Camacho’s back. “What the hell happened over there?” She nodded over at Amatuzo’s’ corpse.

  “I don’t fucking know,” Morgan said, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He offered Cross a hand up.

  “Thanks.” Cross stood up with Morgan’s help then turned and rested her boot on Camacho’s back. “What was that?”

  “Demons!” Camacho spat as he lay flat on his stomach and bleeding from multiple abrasions from the hard cobblestones. “Demons!”

  “If you would have said that to me a few minutes ago I would have laughed.” Morgan glanced over at Amatuzo’s lifeless form and shook his head. Morgan saw the Doc busy wrapping the bite on his wrist. “Doc, you okay?”

  “Just aces.” Doc gave thumbs up as he removed the damaged watch from his bruised wrist. “Just fucking great.”

  “We need to move now,” Hale said, stepping up next to Morgan. The team leader could see the sadness in the other man’s eyes.

  Morgan leaned down and roughly pulled Camacho to his feet. “How far to your vehicle?”

  “Around the corner,” he sputtered, trying to spit dust and dirt from his mouth. “I… I promise.”

  “I will kill you if you lie.” Morgan shoved him back over toward Cross who grabbed him by the arm.

  “Doc?”

  “I’m good to go.” Doc nodded as he got to his feet.

  “What about Amatuzo?” Duley asked, still spooked.

  “We have to leave him; we don’t know what the fuck was wrong with him.” Morgan glanced over at Kegy, who just slowly nodded back.

  “You guys okay back there?” Snake asked in his headset.

  “Just peachy,” Morgan replied as they team started to move. “Anyone approaches you, shoot them in the head. Anyone.”

  “Roger.”

  “Good.” Morgan fell in behind Cross and Camacho. “We are looking for a big brown building with double doors. That’s got our ride in it.”

  “Roger,” Snake replied. “Brown building, double doors.”

  BOB’S BIG ASS CAR

  CAMACHO’S COMPOUND

  The team had quickly made it to Camacho’s personal parking garage without another run-in with the flesh eaters. While the team waited outside the big building, Snake, Redwood, and Hale slipped inside a small side entrance. A couple of tense minutes later, Hale stepped back out of the side door and waved the others forward. Morgan pulled Camacho in close next to him.

  “Looks good for you so far, Bob.”

  “My car it is inside, Sergeant. I want out of this cursed place as much as you do.”

  “Cursed is right,” Morgan agreed as he led Camacho inside the spacious garage. Duley, being the last one in, secured the side door as he heard Vanelli whistle in awe. The soldier turned to see what his partner was excited about.

  Shee-it.” Duley smiled. A big zebra striped Humvee limousine with giant stainless steel steer horns on the front fender sat in the middle of Camacho’s private garage.

  “This is what you do when you have too much money.” He found himself whistling like his partner.

  “Over compensating, Bob?” Cross patted the cartel boss on the shoulder.

  "At least it will carry us all.” Hale pulled open the driver's door and looked over at Bob. “You have keys?”

  “Inside.” Camacho nodded then turned to Morgan. “Untie me?”

  “No. Not until we are out of here and in the U.S.” He opened the driver side passenger door and Doc Kegy slid inside. Morgan stuffed the cuffed cartel boss into the big vehicle as Duley and Vanelli followed.

  “Wow, Bob,” Duley said as he climbed into the plush interior of the limousine.

  “Ho-lee shit.” Morgan stuck his head inside. Two long leather couches lined the sides of the plush carpeted vehicle. Two full bars and neon light ropes filled up the rest of the custom Humvee.

  “At least we’ll be riding to the LZ like pimps,” Vanelli smirked.

  “Let’s go.” Hale climbed into the driver seat and grabbed the Humvee keys off the dashboard. He cranked the engine over as Morgan climbed up into the passenger seat. Redwood and Snake quickly pulled both of the oversized front garage doors open then hurried into the vehicle.

  “Got it?” Morgan asked as Hale shifted the vehicle into park.

  “Piece of cake.” He smiled. “Out the back gate and we’re home free.”

  As the custom Humvee rolled quickly out of the garage, several of the undead took notice of the vehicle and stumbled in vain after it. The remaining members of the team sat sprawled out in the extravagance of the cartel thug’s personal transport. Duley lay flat on his back in the thick carpeting staring at the mirrored ceiling. He just couldn't get the image of Amatuzo emerging from the body bag out of his head.

  “Drink?” Snake asked the team as he popped open one of the Hummer’s refrigerators.

  “Hells yeah.” Duley sat up.

  “You don’t mind do you, Bob?” Cross asked Camacho as he slumped in the seat next to her.

  “What do I care?” he said, venom in his voice. “Choke on it.”

  Snake held up a bottle he had pulled from the mini-fridge. “Zima, the whole thing's packed with Zima.”

  “Zima?” Cross winked at Camacho who just glared at her. “I pegged you more as a wine cooler guy.”

  “Drinks a drink,” Vanelli said, taking a bottle from Snake.

  “Some cokes in here too.”

  “Throw a coke, Snake.” Redwood held out a hand as the other soldier tossed him a cold soda can. “Thanks.”

  “Doc?” Snake asked.

  “Got some water in there?” Doc asked as he wiped some sweat from his brow. Snake handed the medic a cool plastic bottle. Doc nodded thanks then rolled the cold container on his cheeks.

  “You okay, Doc?” Duley asked as he held the open the Zima bottle in his hands.

  “I’m good. Just gonna grab some shut eye.” He grabbed one of his packs for a pillow then turned on his side facing away from the others. What happened to Amatuzo was just a little too much for him to take. “Wake me up when we get to the LZ.”

  “You are getting your shit all over my car,” Camacho growled at the soldiers. “You will clean up your mess when we are done.”

  “Done?” Redwood opened the can of soda and took a swallow. “Camacho, buddy, this is it for you. You are now property of the United States government.”

  “Fucking gringos.”


  “Keep talking, Bob.” The red- headed sergeant took a swig from the Zima bottle, grimaced at the awful taste, and set it back down. “I still have tape.”

  “The back gate shouldn’t be too far,” Hale said as he drove the big vehicle through the rear of the compound.

  The bright headlights cut through the thick darkness and rolling clouds of smoke. Morgan thought the powerful air conditioner felt great after running around in full gear in the one hundred plus heat. One of the cannibals charged from between a building and ran right into the front fender of the customized Humvee. The undead woman bounced off the vehicle and spun around sending her smashing into the adobe wall. Morgan watched as the body slid down the wall leaving a black smear of blood in its wake.

  “Fuckers are everywhere.” Hale wiped some sweat from his face.

  “What are they?” Morgan asked as he changed out magazines in his rifle. “I mean Amatuzo, he was dead. I saw him die.”

  “Morgan, I don’t have a fucking clue what they are.” Hale could see more of the dead start to move in their direction. “The only thing I know—other than that they aren’t breathing and that they want to eat us— is that head shots kill them… again.”

  “Fucking cannibals, Hale?" He sat the rifle against the door. “This morning, if you’d have told me you had three dicks, I’d have believed that more than this shit. I just don’t get it.”

  “Don’t over-think, Morgan. It just is, and right now all we have to worry about is getting the fuck outta here.”

  A line of the undead ran out in front of the limo. Hale didn’t have time to swerve so he just stepped on the gas pedal and drove over them. Black blood and flesh splashed across the windshield as the Humvee lurched over their bodies. Hale turned on the wiper blades in an attempt to clear the nasty splatter off the glass.

  “Fuck me,” Morgan said as he watched the blades thin out the mess on the windshield. “You see that?”

  Stuck onto the passenger's side stainless steel longhorn was a dead woman in the tattered remains of a big puffy dress. The cannibal was gored through the lower stomach with the fake horn. The dress flew all around the passenger side of the front end as the woman snapped her jaws open and closed and tried to get to the men in the cab.

  “Not the most fucked up thing I’ve seen all day.” Hale quickly glanced over at the other sergeant.

  “The glass is bulletproof.” Morgan thumped it with a gloved hand. “I can’t hit her from the open window right now.”

  “Leave her. The gate's coming up.” Hale juiced the pedal even more as they rapidly approached the double back gates. “Hold on to something!”

  Morgan nodded and glanced back over his shoulder through the open glass partition that separated the front of the limo from the rear. “Hold onto your panties! We’re going to run the gate!”

  “No,” Bob grumbled. “I just had this painted!”

  “Watch the Doc!” Cross said to Duley.

  “Got him.” Duley crawled over to where the tormented medic slept and gripped him by his harness so he wouldn’t be injured during the impact.

  The Humvee smashed through the gate, causing the vehicle to shake violently. There was the shriek of grinding metal as the Humvee forcefully crashed through, scraping the sides of the freshly painted vehicle from front to back.

  “No!” Camacho ground his teeth together at the sound of scraping metal. “I will kill you all!” he cursed in Spanish.

  “You can probably just buff that out, Bob.” Cross frowned.

  The scraping noise stopped as the Humvee forcefully pulled itself free from the opening and sped out across the uneven ground outside the compound.

  “The LZ is right up ahead,” Morgan said glancing down at his smartphone.

  The Humvee rocked a little as it climbed the rolling foothills toward the clearing. The undead woman on the longhorn had stopped moving when they smashed through the gates. Her body had been shoved so far down the fake steer horn her limp form was now face down on the hood, her dress flapping in the breeze behind her. Hale figured the impact of ramming the gates must have killed her… again.

  “Nothing on the cell.” Morgan shoved the phone back into his bloodstained tac vest.

  “We’re here.” Hale parked the Humvee and shut off the engine then grabbed his rifle and carefully climbed out. Morgan exited the passenger's side as the rest of the team also started to file out of the vehicle.

  “Snake, Redwood.” Morgan pointed to where he wanted them positioned. “Duley, Vanelli.” The other two soldiers followed his direction and secured another part of the LZ. Cross stood with Doc Kegy and Camacho at the rear of the Humvee. The crime boss looked down at the massive scratches carved into the side of the custom vehicle. He cursed in Spanish and angrily turned his head in the direction of the burning compound.

  “Once I am free, you all will pay,” he growled. “Do you know what you have done?”

  “Relax, Bob.” Cross ran a gloved hand across the beyond repair fender. “A little compound and some buffing; it’ll come right out.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Bob.” She shoved him hard against the limo. “I could kill you right now and not have a second thought about it. Two of my friends are dead because of you, and they were much better men than you’ll ever be. I’m not good at following orders so…” She pulled him back off the ruined fender. “Shut the fuck up and you might make it to that cell they have waiting for you.”

  Camacho wanted to say something but he could tell from the tone of the angry American woman’s voice that she meant it. She would kill him despite what her superiors wanted. Camacho just turned his head back in the direction of his former stronghold and watched it burn. He only hoped Salazar was still inside.

  SOME FUCKED UP SHAKESPEARE SHIT

  EN ROUTE TO THE LZ

  “Morgan,” Hale knelt down in the scrub brush clearing and picked something up. “Check this out.”

  “What is it?” Morgan walked over to where Hale was getting to his feet. Hale showed him the remains of Captain Galvan’s blood-covered sat phone. Morgan lifted it in a gloved hand and gave it a quick once over. “The captain’s phone. Looks like they didn’t get very far.”

  “Looks like the chopper was here.” Hale pointed at an area of crushed grass, obviously made by the landing gear of the Sea Stallion.

  “Makes no fucking sense.”

  “No.” Hale stood up, wiping his gloved hands together. “Not at all. Seems to me that we're on our own now.”

  “Fuck, Rollie. I don’t even know how to call this one.” Morgan shook his head. “I guess it’s just us back to the States, huh?”

  “Long fucking haul in that rolling billboard and we aren’t exactly here as tourists.” Hale glanced over at the garish Humvee. “We don’t have any ID and I’m not so sure we’d get any vouchers.”

  “Bob has money, right?”

  “For now.”

  “Rich guys have boats.” He turned back to the Humvee. “Cross, bring up Camacho please.”

  Cross quickly escorted the former cartel boss up to the front of the Humvee. Hale cracked open a water and took a big swig as Morgan twisted open one of the Humvee Zima’s and raised it toward Camacho.

  The sergeant took a drink then wiped his lips with the back of his gloved hand.

  “Must be an acquired taste.” Morgan tossed the bottle behind him. “Bob, how are ya?”

  “How do you think?” he snarled.

  “We have a problem.” Morgan smirked. “You included. We need a way back over the border.”

  “Ha, seems your government has fucked you over too.”

  “Don’t get all cocky, Bob.” Hale grabbed Camacho by the shoulder with one of his tree sized arms. “If we have a problem, you have a problem.”

  “Sergeant Hale is right. I will kill you and I think you know that.” Camacho looked up into Morgan’s eyes and could tell he meant it. “Understand?”

  “What do you need?” Camacho asked.
r />   “You have a boat nearby?”

  “I have a yacht,” Camacho said, correcting Morgan. “It is docked in Punta Aria. Why?”

  “Does it run?”

  “Yes, of course. I have two men aboard it right now.” He frowned. “Why?”

  “That’s our ticket home.” Morgan patted him on the cheek. “Those men armed?”

  “Yes. But one is the captain and the other is his helper.”

  “How far is Punta Aria from here?” Hale asked.

  “About twenty miles. I have it programmed in the GPS for my drivers.” He shrugged. “I never drive. Set me free and I will be more than happy to help.”

  “That's not negotiable, Bob,” Morgan said, stepping in closer to the cartel man.

  “Then we all stay here. I will not help.” Camacho smirked.

  “You will die here then.”

  “I have no doubt.” Bob smiled knowing this might backfire in a bad way on him. “You’ll never make it back home either.”

  “How about this…” Morgan rubbed his bearded face. “We get to the yacht and I’ll uncuff you. Hell, I’ll even put a good word in for you with the powers that be.”

  “Set me free.”

  “This is it, Bob. My only offer.” Morgan glanced around at the other soldiers. “Hell, we can find our own way home, Bob. What’s it going to be?”

  “Yes,” Camacho sighed defeated. “You keep your word about uncuffing me and putting in good words for me?”

  “Yes.” Morgan nodded, knowing that once the cartel man was uncuffed Hale would be stuck to Camacho like glue.

  “Okay. We have a deal.”

  “Looks like you’re going to the States in first class style, Bob.” Cross smiled, and then she noticed the puffy dress flapping in the front of the Humvee. “What the hell?”

  “Oh, yeah. We need to pull that off the horns.” Morgan nodded.