“Holy shit, it worked!” Nero exclaimed as he sat upright in the passenger seat. “The keys were actually in here.”
“What do you mean? You didn’t know for sure?”
“It was a guess.” He smiled. “And it paid off. Thanks for saving me again.”
“You owe me,” Tanya said, shaking her head as she pulled the Range Rover onto the gravel trail that led out of the compound grounds. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch Nero.”
CAN YOU PLEASE GET THIS FUCKING TIGER OFF ME?
CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
Sergeant Darryl Travis slowly moved in the darkness as he trailed behind the rest of the team. Travis was covering their rear egress as they tried to exit the expansive compound. Travis was about ten yards away from the main group of soldiers as they moved around one of the bigger buildings. All the gunfire and the horrific screams had unnerved him a bit. Travis had been in a few fire fights and lots of patrols in the past, but something about this whole ordeal really creeped him out. He hadn’t been a fan of the mission at first; he thought there were too many ways for this to go bad. Though striking out against the drug cartels was an offer too good to pass up. Travis had grown up near the border and he’d seen a lot of the sorrow the cartels had caused. The soldier knew a lot of innocent people had died or were terrorized at the whim of the cartel. Capturing Camacho would be worth any sacrifice he might have to make if it would keep others safe.
The crack of a rifle from behind him caused the sergeant to drop to a knee and bring his weapon up to a firing position. From where he knelt, he could see something move at a fast pace in his direction. When he finally got a visual on it, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Contact!” Redwood shouted as a round crashed into the wall next to him. The big sergeant dropped to his knee and returned fire. A couple of Salazar’s security men had responded to his call for help and had stumbled right into the team. Before the two cartel thugs could get another shot off, Redwood and Vanelli had placed a round in both their heads.
“Targets down,” Redwood said into his headset.
“Roger.” Morgan signaled for the rest of the team to move forward.
“I have movement. What the fuck?” Travis said in the team’s headsets. There was a pop from his rifle followed by a loud scream. Morgan signaled another stop and the team hunkered down the best they could, weapons at the ready.
“Nooooo!” Travis' scream echoed throughout their headsets.
“Travis!” Morgan said into his mic. “Travis!”
There was another loud scream from the rear of the team. Travis had been trailing farther behind them covering their back. A deep growl came from the same direction of the soldiers screams.
“Hale, Vanelli, check it out!” Morgan ordered. “Everyone else watch your areas!”
“On it,” Hale said, crouching down and quickly moving over to where Travis should have been. Vanelli followed closely behind, rifle at the ready. There was another small scream through the headsets then a horrible silence.
As Hale approached where Travis should have been, he heard loud chewing and growling sounds. Hale instantly raised a gloved hand for Vanelli to stop. Both men couldn’t believe their eyes; a large Bengal tiger had Travis by the torso. A thick rope of entrails led to where his lower half lay several feet away. The tiger had torn the young sergeant in half, had ripped his head from his neck, and was shaking him like a rag doll. Travis was obviously beyond any help.
“Holy crap!” Vanelli froze at the sight of the tiger with his teammates’ body clutched in its powerful jaws. Vanelli was horrified at the sight of his friend having been eaten alive by the big Bengal tiger. “No fucking way!”
“What’s going on?” Morgan’s voice was filled with urgency.
“Motherfuck!” Hale quickly raised his rifle up to point shoulder and angrily fired at the tiger. The rounds struck the big cat in the shoulders, causing it to release Travis’ body from its bloody jaws. The remains fell to the ground with a wet thump. It brought Vanelli out of his stupor and he screamed as he unloaded his magazine on the massive beast. The big cat reared back on his powerful back legs and leapt at the two men. Hale slid to his knees and fired two more rounds into the tiger’s belly as it jumped over him and crashed heavily into Vanelli. The soldier hit the ground hard as the large tiger collapsed on top of him.
Hale ran over to where the big cat lay sprawled out on top Vanelli. He could see the tiger was no longer breathing. The sergeant threw a quick glance over to where Travis’s remains were spread all about. Hale shook his head and said a quick prayer for the soldier. A grunting noise next to him tore Hale from his sadness.
“Vanelli?”
“I’m… I’m… o… okay.” He breathed heavily from underneath the big cat’s body. “Can someone please get this fucking tiger off me?”
GLORIA’S STRUGGLE
COMPOUND COURTYARD
Gloria Camacho dragged the train of her ruined party dress behind her as she limped toward the courtyard. The cartel mother stopped and pulled out the knife she kept in her bra. She flicked the switchblade open and ran the blade lightly across the palm of her hand. The action didn’t draw any blood but the blade against her skin felt quite sensuous. She remembered how it had felt when she ran the blade across Robert’s father's throat. He screamed like a little bitch and died quite slowly. That was a good day.
Gloria was brought back to the here and now by the sounds of guns barking in the distance. She quickly took the blade and cut off the dress train that had been tripping her up. Bloodied and bruised, Gloria tossed the excess material to the ground behind her. She thought about replacing the switchblade but thought better of it when she heard the gunshots and screams. Whatever was happening now had to be Robert’s fault. She had warned him not to go into business with that fucking gringo Black. There had been rumors circulating for a long time about evil things coming from the compound. Gloria was very superstitious but she chose to ignore her own feelings when it came to making money. Now everything was falling apart. Maybe the gunfire wasn’t Roberts fault; maybe the Americans had reneged on their deal. Maybe Salazar had somehow fucked things up. Whatever it was, she knew that demons were loose in the compound. Real demons; not the Llorona or El cucuy—stories grandmothers told their nino’s and nina’s to scare them into being good. These were demons that ate your flesh.
Following more gunshots and screams, Gloria could see a couple of men running her way. She recognized them as Juan and Henry, two of her kitchen staff. She always liked these men. Gloria adjusted her ripped and torn dress and quickly ran her hand through her mess of wavy hair. The cartel mother hated anyone seeing her not at her best. She stepped out of the shadows and put up her arms.
“Juan!” she shouted. “It’s Señora Camacho!”
“Out of the way, puta!” Juan said, roughly shoving her to the ground. Gloria smashed onto her side, cracking more of her ribs. “Demons!” the man shouted as he ran full bore toward the parking lot. “Demons are everywhere!”
“Fool!” Gloria grumbled as she tried to get to her feet. She would have Juan killed slowly once she reached Salazar. Suddenly she felt a gentle hand on her arm. It was Henry.
“Señora Camacho, let me help you.”
“Gracias, Henry.” She groaned as she got to her feet. She could feel the excruciating pain in her sides from her ribs. “That pig, Juan, will pay,” she said, trying to take shallow breaths. “Thank you.”
“Let’s have a look at you, señora,” Henry said, ushering her over to a darkened corner.
“I’m fine Henry…” She groaned at the pain in her sides. “We need to find Salazar."
"Señora, it is not safe to go back inside,” Henry said as he helped to hold her up. “They are eating each other back there.”
“We need the guns to stop them Henry. The parking lot is also full of the demons. I need to get to Salazar. Help me, Henry. You will be greatly rewarded.”
The assistant pastry chef
took a deep breath. “Okay, Señora. There is nowhere else to go. I will help.”
“Very good, Henry.” She squeezed his arm. “You will not regret this.”
I hope not, Henry thought to himself as he looked back in the direction of the courtyard. He could see several small fires were now burning in some of the buildings and several figures were staggering about in the fire-lit shadows. Screams, gunfire, and that damned muzak filled the air. Henry nervously took Gloria’s hand and pulled her behind him.
“This way,” he said, cautiously taking a few steps toward the hacienda. “We must be quiet.”
“Yes, Henry,” Gloria said, watching ahead of them. She could hear the crashing of glass and wood and loud cursing as they made their way in the dim light.
Señora Camacho figured she’d have to write the compound off as a loss once or if they even regained control of it. This whole place would now be a cursed area. Maybe her sins were catching up to her and God and Saint Malverde were punishing her for them. Three men sprinted past Gloria and Henry heading straight for the parking lot, unaware of the evil that awaited them. Henry started to warn them but Gloria pulled him back.
“It will do no good, Henry, just get us to Salazar.”
“Si.” Henry nodded slowly. He was starting to feel apprehensive about taking the señora back inside the compound.
As they grew nearer to the hacienda, the sounds and smell of death became more apparent. Henry stopped suddenly as a group of the demons quickly approached them from the alleyway that led to the main kitchen.
The group of men dressed in torn mariachi outfits growled and stumbled hungrily in their direction. Henry turned to Gloria and started to pull her back in the direction of the parking lot.
“No! We will die there!” Gloria snapped.
“We’ll die here!” Henry almost screamed. He was so frightened he couldn’t stop shaking. Gloria just gave him a look of disgust as she flipped open the switchblade and quickly stabbed him in the side. Señora Camacho then shoved the surprised kitchen worker into the path of the emerging demons.
Henry was amazed at the strength and speed the old woman possessed as he tumbled into the demon filled alleyway. Gloria had obviously inflicted a minor but painful wound in his side. All of the undead eyes were now focused on him. Henry let out a high pitched squeak, grabbed his bleeding side, and fled out of the alley toward the courtyard. The flesh eaters in the alleyway ran after their fleeing meal, unaware of Gloria who had slipped into the cover of one of Camacho's statues of himself. Once they were gone, she carefully slunk over to the alleyway, peeked down it to make sure it was clear then quickly limped over to the kitchen doors. Gloria didn’t pause to have a look over into the courtyard. The terrible sounds of death were enough to keep her looking straight ahead.
REAL WEIRD SHIT GOING ON
EXTRACTION POINT,
SEVERAL MILES FROM CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
Lieutenant Kubicek lay in the scrub brush clearing watching the big Sea Stallion helicopter approach in the night sky. The officer looked around him to make sure he was totally alone. He’d heard that dipshit Morgan’s call on the sat phone for help and had gotten great pleasure out of not responding to it. Morgan and his buddy Hale had given him a load of shit for the incident at the kill-house. It wasn’t like Kubicek had actually shot that dirt bag Morgan. Now he had his revenge. Those two assholes would die right here or in a Mexican prison. Black would ensure that everything would go away and there wouldn’t be a trail that led back to him.
Kubicek watched the chopper set down in the landing zone. His leg hurt like a bitch where Black’s mercenary had shot him. Make it look authentic, my ass.
The aft hatch of the Sea Stallion dropped and the crew chief jumped out carrying an M4 rifle at the ready. Kubicek waved the soldier over to where he lay. The crew chief saw the officer was wounded and helped him to his feet. He threw the lieutenant over his shoulder and carried him up the aft ramp into the chopper. He carefully set Kubicek down on the floor of the aircraft.
“Sir,” the crew chief shouted above the engines and the whirl of the helicopter blades, “where are the others?”
“Dead, Chief,” Kubicek said with a finality that unnerved the crewman.
“What happened?” the crew chief asked as he started to take a look at the wound in Kubicek’s leg.
“We need to go. I think the cartel men are behind us!”
“All right, sir,” the air crewman said reluctantly. He then spoke into his headset mic to the pilots. “Take us up, Cap, this is it and we have bad guys in route!”
“Roger!” the pilot replied.
“Let me take a look at your leg,” the chief said, grabbing out the aircraft’s first aid kit as the helicopter started to lift off.
“The teams were ambushed inside. I responded, and met up with the Captain. Galvan had Camacho in custody but there were too many… Galvan said he called for the QRF but got no response.” He hung his head down. “Three of us made it to the back gate. We all got shot. Morgan and the Captain were killed. I still had Camacho but the fuckers were almost on me so I shot him. Killed him.” Kubicek wiped a fake tear from his eyes. “I crawled all the way back here.”
“Jeez.” The soldier shook his head. “All of them?”
“All of them.” The lieutenant said still hanging his head.
“Fuck,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Thank you.” Kubicek nodded, still not meeting the other man’s gaze. “They were all heroes."
"Sounds like you’re the hero, sir.” The crew chief cut his pant leg away from the bullet wound. “Doesn’t look too bad. I can patch you up enough until we reach the Truman, sir. They’ll have better medical on board.”
“What do you mean?” Kubicek wiped some self-applied grime from his face. “I thought we were landing on the Boxer?”
“The Boxer has been called in for air support off of San Francisco.”
“What?”
“It’s been on the comms all day. Some kind of massive civil disturbance is happening in a lot of the major cities. Real weird shit going on. It’s like the whole damn country is tearing itself apart. They even pulled the Quick Response Force off of this mission. That’s why we didn’t have back up. We didn’t even hear any transmissions from the Captain. If we did, we would have flown in and lit those fuckers up with our mini guns.”
“I don’t know.” Kubicek winced as the crewman cleaned his wound. “It happened so fast.”
“Well, relax, sir,” the chief reassured him. “We’ll drop you off in good hands. “
“Thanks, Chief.” Kubicek leaned back against the net seat and closed his eyes. He hoped whatever nonsense that was happening State-side wasn’t going to fuck up his play at being the big hero. After all, he did get shot in the leg.
HEARTBREAK HOTEL
CAMACHO’S COMPOUND
“He never had a chance,” Doc Kegy said, looking over the remains of Travis. The rest of the team had formed a protective perimeter around the medic and their fallen comrade. Kegy looked over to Morgan and just shook his head as he stood up. “Wasn’t quick.”
“Fuck.” Morgan looked at the others then over to Camacho who stood next to Cross just staring down at the dead soldier. The muzak was still booming loudly, a wordless version of Elvis’ Heartbreak Hotel crackled through the speakers and made the whole situation that much stranger. Morgan strode over to where the cartel boss stood and forcefully ripped the tape from his mouth. Camacho let out a loud shriek as he instantly reached up to feel if both his lips were still attached.
Morgan grabbed Camacho by the neck and dragged him face first over to where Travis’s remains lay. The sergeant pushed his face into a pool of the soldier’s blood then jerked him upright. Camacho was busy trying to catch his breath and blink away the blood that had splashed into his eyes.
“You fuck, that was a good man! He didn’t deserve to die like that!” He slapped him in the back of the head. Camacho gagged a little
and blew a bloody bubble as he tried to not throw up.
“Morgan.” Hale stepped forward and glancing around the surrounding areas. “We need to keep moving. There is still another one of those cats roaming around here.”
“Shit!” Morgan grabbed Camacho by the collar. “I lose another man to your tigers and I will personally shove this rifle down your throat and empty my magazine inside your bloated gut! Got it?”
“Y… yes,” Camacho babbled. He could see by the look in the American's eyes that he meant it. Camacho knew that Iceman was probably stalking about somewhere close; he only hoped the soldiers would kill it before it could strike.
“Should we?” Duley pointed an open palm at Travis’ mutilated remains.
“There’s nothing we can do for him,” Cross said quietly. “No ID.”
“Cross is right. As fucked up as it is, we have to leave him.” Morgan frowned. “Snake, you take point. Let’s get a move on. Camacho, you make any noise and you are a dead man. Understand?”
“Yes.” Camacho nodded.
“What the fuck is with this music?” Vanelli asked.
“Heck if I know,” Amatuzo said, dropping his rifle into patrol position. “Kinda like a weird soundtrack or something. Makes me feel like I’m in a movie.”
“Or something,” Redwood said, dropping back behind Snake. The big man turned to Duley and fixed him with an angry glare. “Did you eat one of my Snicker's?”
“No, Redwood, I swear I didn’t.” Duley raised one of his hands in the air and held the other on his rifle. “This bad shit is just that, bad shit. Ain't from no candy bar. I swear.”
“Let’s move,” Morgan said, giving Snake the signal to lead on. “Amatuzo, you’re rear.”
“Roger,” Amatuzo said unenthusiastically as he dropped to the back of the group. He brought his rifle up to a combat position with the thought he wasn’t going to end up like poor Travis.
Operation Zulu: Dos Page 31