“Yes.” Tanya stepped forward. “Where is he?”
“Not here.” Alexi started to close the door when Nero blocked it with his foot and pushed it back against the Russian.
“Doctor, where is he?” Nero demanded.
“Okay, okay.” Alexi let go of his hold on the door. “He was taken to the building next to this one.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a key ring. He removed one of the keys and tossed it to Nero. “You will need this to get in. Now leave me the fuck alone!” He slammed the door shut behind him before they could ask him any more questions.
“Nice guy,” Baylie said.
“Come on.” Nero jerked his head in the direction of the other building. “Let’s get your friend.”
“Why is he over there?” asked Tanya, concern thick in her voice.
“Maybe he’s just resting?” Baylie shrugged.
The two women followed Nero over to the strange windowless building that was behind the clinic/lab. Another thick steel door greeted Nero as he inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. The horrible familiar smell of death caused the ex-soldier to quickly pull it shut.
“What’s going on, Nero? Why did you close the door?” Tanya asked.
“Look,” Nero rested his hands on her shoulders. “I think maybe you should let me go in first.”
“Why?” She frowned, knowing that something was definitely wrong with Leeland.
“I think something terrible has happened to your friend. Maybe you two should stay out here while I have a look.”
“No, I want to see,” Tanya insisted.
“So do I,” Baylie said, trying to put on a brave face.
“Okay, just stay behind me,” Nero said as he drew his pistol. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tanya pull the .38 out from her waistband. Very good, he thought to himself.
Nero slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The same smell of death assaulted all three of them as they stepped inside the brightly lit room. A solid eight foot partition separated the front door area from the rest. Nero knew as the smell grew stronger that something terrible lie behind it. Raising the pistol to a combat position, he careful moved around the partition and into the main room.
“Dios mios,” he said under his breath. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he’d stumbled into a butcher's shop crossed with a surgical clinic. All the tools and blood…
“No!” He heard a scream from behind and quickly turned. Nero had momentarily forgotten the two women behind him. The site of the big man dissected on the table had temporarily stunned him. He had never seen such a mess made of a human being by another before. The woman called Baylie fell to her knees and started sobbing. Tanya tried to cover the younger woman’s eyes with her hands. Nero could see Tanya’s face was white as a sheet.
“We must go,” he told them. “Now.”
“What is this? What the fuck is this place?” Tanya demanded as she tried to calm Baylie with her hands on her shoulders.
“I don’t know. This place belongs to one of Camacho’s partners. He’s an American, other than that I don’t know.”
“Leeland…” Baylie sobbed.
“I know, sweetie.” Tanya and Nero helped Baylie to her feet. “It’s okay, Baylie,” she said softly.
“What do we do now?” Baylie asked, wiping the tears from her face and shaking a little. “What the fuck do we do now, Tanya?”
“We get the hell out of here,” Tanya said, forcefully turning Baylie around as she took one more peek at the bloody, butchered remains of Leeland. She felt sad and angry. If she had truly loved the man, who knows what kind of wreck she would have been right now. “Nero?”
“Come on.” He held the Glock in close to him. “I’m with you. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
THE BIG SURPRISE
CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
“So, Mama, I have a big surprise for you.” Camacho rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation of her reaction. The cartel boss had gathered his mother, Salazar, and Blanca in the plush living room of his hacienda. His mama sat on the expensive over-stuffed couch next to the young girl, Blanca, who looked more terrified than joyful. Salazar stood silently beside his diminutive boss who was just bursting to tell his mother the good news.
“Is it that Bando de Gigantico has finally showed up?” She stifled a yawn.
“No, Mama.” Camacho rolled his eyes.
“Are we going to do the piñata soon?” she asked, peeking at her watch. “It is getting late.”
“Yes, Mama,” he said, frustrated. “But listen, I have a huge surprise.” He opened his arms wide to emphasize it.
“So what is this ‘big surprise’?” she said, mocking him.
Knowing his mother was hard to please, he just shook his head. Camacho was always vexed by his mother's total contempt at anything he tried to do for her. Nevertheless, he motioned for Blanca to stand up. Timidly, she stood and smiled weakly.
“Mama. Blanca is pregnant!”
“So?”
“So? Mama, Blanca is pregnant with my child. Your grandbaby!”
“My son.” She quickly stood up and unexpectedly gave Blanca a big hug. “That is wonderful news, Robert.” She squeezed the girl tightly.
“Mama.” Camacho sighed, obviously relieved. Robert wasn’t used to anything good coming from his mother. Her reaction was thrilling to the drug lord; Camacho felt like he was on top of the world. “If it’s a girl we are going to name her Gloria.”
“Mijo, this makes me so very happy. Now I have an heir. Someone I can train up right to run the business.”
“Si, Mama, we—"
“Ah.” She raised a pointy finger at him. “There is no we. You see, Robert, lately you have been drawing too much attention to yourself.”
“Mama?” Camacho frowned not understanding.
“You know… killing the American vice president’s daughter. That is bad for business. Now we have the Americans breathing down our necks.”
“Mama, it was an accident.”
“Accident? You have fucked us, mijo. And… and this deal you have with that creepy American, Black? I do not like him or it.”
“Mama,” Camacho pleaded. “I thought you liked Black?”
“I cannot stand the man. He creeps me out.” She shivered. “I am a good actress, no? I should have been on the TV. At least one of us would have been a celebrity and not only on television because they are a fuck up.”
“The deal with Black has been quite profitable for us. Anyway, I was going to have him killed tonight.” He glanced over at his second-in-command who just stood staring at Gloria Camacho. “Tell Mama, Salazar.” The cartel lieutenant remained stoic and silent. “Tell her!”
“Salazar works for me,” Gloria said sternly. “And I already knew Blanca was pregnant. Salazar has always reported to me. Why I Iet you run this cartel in the first place is a mystery to me, mijo. A big mistake on my part. I was trying to make you a man like your sainted father.”
“What?” Camacho looked incredulously over at his former second-in-command. “I do not understand!”
“Of course you don’t. I am taking charge of the business until your child is old enough to handle it themselves—be it a boy or girl. I will train them right. I will not be as soft as I was with you. That’s where I screwed up.”
“What? What?” The room started to spin. Camacho started to feel out of control; obviously his Zima had been drugged.
“Oh yes, you feeling a little strange.” His mother looked at him with deep disappointment in her face. “I put some of that GHB in your drink. I thought it might stop some of your squealing.”
“Mama…” he slurred and sluggishly reached out to grab her.
“Salazar.” She nodded. The big cartel lieutenant quickly grabbed Camacho and slammed him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. With very little struggle, Salazar dug around Camacho’s suit coat until he found his ex-boss’s personal handgun. Ejectin
g the small magazine, he tossed it away and proceeded to quickly bind the drug addled man with zip ties.
“Very good, El Jefe.” Gloria Camacho playfully rested a hand on Salazar’s shoulder.
“El Jefe?” Camacho squirmed in his bindings. “Salazar is just a fucking pimp! I’m El Jefe!” he spat.
“No problem, Señora Camacho,” Salazar said, ignoring the little man twisting on the floor.
“Call me Gloria.”
“Si, Gloria.” Salazar grinned smugly as he smoothed his suit coat.
“I really wish you would have been able to get Bando De Gigantico, mijo,” Gloria said to her son who was still face down on the tiled floor. “Thank you for the party. It was a very nice try.”
“Mama…” he blubbered. “Do not do this.”
“You know what to do with him, Salazar.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I will be leaving soon.” She turned to Blanca and ran a hand through the girls’ long black hair. "My dear, come back to Mexico City with me and I will take good care of both of you.”
“Si, Señora Camacho.” Blanca knew that Señora Camacho wasn’t offering; she was ordering.
“Please, mija,” she said coolly, “call me Mama.”
DRUNK RUSSIANS ARE DICKS
CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
“Fucking Black!” Alexi swept his arm across a row of beakers and test tubes that covered one of the tables in the clinic/lab, sending them crashing to the floor.
“Fuck you!” he screamed, tears streaming down his unshaven cheeks.
The broken-hearted and devastated Russian stalked angrily back and forth across the lab. Alexi had finally found a woman he could relate to, one he could love, and Black stabbed her through the eye. Just like that. Not a thought or a care to the Russian.
“You take my Esmerelda from me.” He turned over another table sending an active, still flaming, Bunsen burner to the linoleum floor. “You take my beautiful Esmerelda from me! Now, in return, I take your world from you!”
He kicked some of the kerosene canisters over on their sides, spilling the flammable liquid on the floor.
The Russian could feel the fire quickly growing behind him. The lab would soon be engulfed in flames, along with everything else inside; whatever was left of Black’s Krokodil business would be destroyed. He turned away from the building fire and saw all the locked doors that filled the rear hallway. A light suddenly went on in the drunken scientist head.
“I will not just burn your world.” Alexi stumbled toward the locked rooms that were filled with the ravenous undead. “I will eat your world!”
He grabbed the key ring out of his pocket and quickly unlocked the first door, threw it open, and began yelling for the dead to come out. He did that five more times until the hallway was filled with the hungry, rotting zombies. Alexi kept a safe distance away from the walking sacks of flesh as he led them out of the rear door of the building away from the fire.
“I will eat your world!” Alexi giggled as he stumbled out of the building toward the courtyard. The Russian, still giddy on revenge, tripped on a raised cobblestone and snapped his ankle. He fell to the ground and before he could crawl away, the crowd of voracious zombies was upon him. The Russian, in his drunken stupor, had underestimated the speed of the ravenous undead.
“I will eat your world!” he screamed as his eyeballs were ripped from their sockets by broken and greedy hands.
“I…
will…
eat…
your…
world!”
The Russian gurgled and spat up blood as he was swiftly devoured by the hungry undead. His last thoughts, besides the horrible pain, were of Esmerelda.
A GOOD TIME TO BUG OUT
CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
When Camacho and his mommy had excused themselves in the courtyard to head into the hacienda, Black thought it was probably a good time to bug out. The millionaire was going to stop at the lab and see what kind of results Alexi had made, if any. Black gave it some more thought as he strolled through the compound and he came to the realization that the drunken, crazy, Russian would probably never find an antidote. Maybe stabbing Alexi’s pet zombie in the head had been a bad idea. Black didn't feel bad about it, he was just pissed at himself for acting out of annoyance and not thinking ahead and keeping his cool.
Well, Black thought to himself as he walked past the lab, Alexi can stay behind in this shitty country and mourn for his twice dead sex toy. Black, on the other hand, was ready to leave. As he approached his work shed, he noticed the front door was slightly open.
Black looked around the surrounding area and saw not a soul. He just heard the loud music from the courtyard and what appeared to be the faint sound of glass breaking in the lab.
He slipped the sharp scalpel he kept in his suit coat out into the palm of his right hand. Black knew how to use a gun, he’d been to a private range enough times to become quite proficient, but gun’s seemed rather savage and droll to the multi-millionaire. He liked the way a sharp-edged weapon felt in his hand. It gave Black a rush to know he was the one inflicting the pain and whoever had broken into his work area was for sure going to feel the pain. He hoped that person was still around.
Black quietly closed the door behind him and locked the deadbolt. No one was getting out if they were still inside. He crept around the partition and slipped into the work room. It was empty except for the chopped up corpse on the table. Disappointed, Black turned on the interior light and did a fast check of the premise. No one. Whoever had been there hadn't disturbed anything, but they had for certain seen the remains on the carving table. Not good. Black would have to leave right away.
He hurried over to his desk and opened the big bottom drawer. Inside was a medium sized metal case which he quickly removed and set down on his desktop. Black popped the lid and began filling the case with his leather-bound journals and project notes. He always knew he might be in a situation where he couldn’t get to his private room so he had a false bottom made in his desk to keep his escape items.
Black drew open the false panel and removed several stacks of money along with a couple of passports and a small .380 pistol. He tossed them into the case with the rest of the things he deemed important. Once he had everything he needed, Black shut the case and glanced around the room, trying to see if he forgot anything. Black nodded to himself, confident that he had all he needed. Now Black just had to make it to the tunnel that would lead him close to his pick up point. Fuck this place, Black thought to himself as a petty but deliciously evil thought came to him. He had one more thing to do before he left.
CHEECH AND CHONG
OUTSIDE CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
Sergeant Cross watched as the guards patrolled listlessly on the big white adobe walls that surrounded the Camacho compound. She had figured the bearded man sporting a fake-Mohawk on the far end of the wall would be the first to go, followed by his way too short shorts-wearing partner a few feet away. What grown man wore those anyway? Cross considered the faux hawk to be the douchiest of hairstyles. Faux hawk definitely would be the first one put down.
The two other guards on the wall had been standing close together for the last few minutes, sharing what appeared to be a joint. Cross dubbed them Cheech and Chong. Hopefully she could smoke both of them before they would have time to react. Cross listened intently on her headset for the go ahead from Morgan. The rest of Bravo team had made it to the rear gate and were waiting for the green light from Captain Galvan so they could go ahead and breach the target area.
“I guess they don’t have rules about getting high on duty,” Amatuzo said quietly as he watched the men through his night vision monocle.
“Appears they don’t have rules about much here. Who does security in short shorts?” Cross said, focusing back on faux hawk.
“Maybe pants restrict his movement?” Amatuzo frowned.
“Tuz, does that guy look like he moves around a lot? The only thing restricting him is his gut.”
“You have a point,” Tuz said as he watched the overweight cartel man scratch his crotch.
“Looks like he should be guarding a recliner instead of a cartel compound.
“This will be easy; like shooting ducks in a barrel.” Amatuzo continued to scope the wall.
“Or like getting herpes from a stripper.” Cross returned her eyes to faux hawk.
“Never ever been to a strip joint, Cross.” Amatuzo said earnestly as he focused his monocle on the Bravo team soldiers that were stacked up by the rear gate.
“Me either. Well, Chippendale's once for a bachelorette party. The bride-to-be slept with one of the strippers and she got herpes.” Cross shook her head. “Who’d 'a thunk a cowboy with tear-away chaps would have an STD?”
“I don’t know.” Amatuzo shrugged. “I married my high school sweetheart, never done any of that stuff.”
“Hold old are you, Tuz?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And you married your high school sweetheart?” Cross zeroed back in on faux hawk.
“Sure did.” Amatuzo smiled in the darkness as he thought about his wife.
“Well, good for you.” Cross slapped him quietly on the shoulder. “That’s sweet.”
“We have two sons, five and six. You?”
“Me?” Cross resumed her scan of the wall. “Cats,” she lied. “I have cats.”
“Well—” The headset clicked on, cutting Amatuzo off; it was Morgan. Cross breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be able to put an end to the conversation. Cross never liked to talk about her private life; hell, that’s why they called it private.
“Bravo Three, we have a green light. You are a go.”
“Roger.” Cross drew faux hawk back in her scope and eased her finger back on the trigger. Faux hawk never knew what hit him. His head and shitty haircut exploded with a wet thunk and his headless body dropped straight to the floor. Short shorts had just watched the entire Love Boat series on DVD and was busy trying to hum the theme song. A silenced round from Cross’ sniper rifle quickly cut him off in mid-hum. Short shorts body quietly tumbled over the outside of the compound wall. Cheech was next. His face splashed all over Chong’s as the bullet entered the back of Cheech’s head and exited the front. As Chong was starting to take a hit off of the joint they shared, he also took in his buddy’s bone and brain tissue. Before Chong could scream, Cross cut him down with a round between his eyes.
Operation Zulu: Dos Page 24