by Ty Marshall
Bree began to slide gently from the passenger seat over to the driver’s side. Halfway there, he was ambushed. Suddenly, a plastic bag was slipped over his head, and he could feel it being pulled tight around his neck from behind. Bree gasped for his next breath as he felt his lungs being restricted from expanding or taking in air. His eyes began to water as he flapped around like a fish out of water, kicking his legs and pressing his feet against the windshield until a crack began to form. Just as he was on the brink of unconsciousness, the bag was lifted off his head.
Bree inhaled deeply, trying to get all the air he could. His chest was heaving up and down as tears ran from both his bloodshot eyes. Just as Bree started to breathe normally, the bag was placed over his head once again. Then again, just when he was on the edge, the bag was removed. Bree vomited onto the driver’s seat, a foul odor permeating the car. Hearing the sound of loud and boisterous laughter, a chill raced up Bree’s spine. Fate had been both vengeful and vehement in its treatment of him, but the worst was yet to come.
Bree was solid, he had faced everything that came at him in life head-on, without trembling. But the sight in the rearview mirror made him shake, emasculating him as his eyes centered on a ghost. Cinco stared back at him from behind dark shades. A mangled and maimed replica of his old self, his appearance vastly different from last time they met but even more sinister and menacing and equally as demonic.
He grabbed Bree in a choke hold, placing a knife to the side of his face. “Where’s that bitch of yours?” Cinco asked. Bree didn’t respond fast enough for him, so he dug the knife into his face and sliced down the side of his cheek, opening up a grotesque gash, oozing blood. Bree screamed in agony; he could feel the warm blood streaming down his face like shower water. Cinco laughed, looking in the rearview at the frightened look on Bree’s face. “Why you holding out on me?” Cinco said before jabbing the knife into Bree’s stomach. “She left you here, alone, to die. Why protect her? She wouldn’t do the same for you.”
“Arrgh!” Bree shouted.
“Okay, have it your way. When I’m done with you, Bree, you’re gonna beg me to kill you,” Cinco said, exiting the car and signaling for his henchmen to retrieve him from the vehicle. He relished committing tortuous acts and couldn’t wait to exact his revenge on Bree. But he wanted China too. He didn’t like the fact that a woman had gotten over on him, and he wanted to make her pay.
Bree moaned as he was pulled from the car forcefully. Fear and hurt were fighting for real estate in his heart. Seeing Cinco’s evil glare as he watched from the backseat of the black Mercedes, Bree regretted not making sure he was dead. It was a fatal mistake. A man as powerful and ruthless as Cinco would be hell-bent on revenge. Bree’s mind jumped back to China. She had proved her disloyalty to him over and over again. Leaving him behind as the sacrificial lamb, hoping it would rid her of her enemies. Maybe Cinco would be satisfied with just Bree, she thought. But Bree knew better. Cinco cherished the opportunity for payback, and Bree thought of playing on his lust for blood. It was his turn for self-preservation.
“Cinco,” Bree called out while being held by a pair of his goons, “would it make a difference if I told you where to find China?”
“No, it won’t,” Cinco said coldly. “I’m gonna find her regardless. You just have to decide if you want to get a little bit of revenge before you die.”
Bree didn’t respond, he just put his head down. Cinco nodded, motioning for his goons to put Bree in the trunk. They dragged Bree to the back of the car and popped the trunk. One of the goons removed a bag, while the other stuffed Bree inside. The henchman with the bag untied it as the bag began moving frantically in his hand. He turned it over, emptying four large rats onto Bree, then slamming the truck closed. Cinco laughed, enjoying Bree’s terrified screams. His sick and twisted mind wanted to listen to him being eaten by the rats as he drove.
* * *
China slammed the door to the bathroom stall behind her and collapsed against the wall as a wave of regret washed over her, knocking the breath out of her. The whole world had come crashing down on top of her, and suddenly she felt nauseous. Her ill feeling was not from sickness but from guilt. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead like water on a steamy mirror. Tears swelled in her eyes as her mouth fell open, and she sobbed painfully without making a single sound. Overcome by grief and remorse, she had left Bree to die like a wounded animal on the side of the road. The pain and hatred she knew he felt over her abandonment weighed heavy on her heart, and the burden of stress showed on her face. She had never felt sorry for anyone other than herself, but right now she did. She felt sorry for her mother, she felt sorry for her father, and she felt sorry for Bree. Her tears were for all of them. I’m so sorry, she thought. China had set fire to her last bridge by leaving Bree stranded. Everything she touched always turned into shit. She felt guilty, a curse she would have to carry around for the rest of her life. She would have to live with what she had done to all the people in her life and the destruction she had caused to those relationships. She was alone, and her sense of invincibility had been shattered. Vulnerable and emotional, China’s hands shook uncontrollably as she continued to drown in her regret. But there was no turning back and no one else to turn to. She had run out of options. The days of leaning on Bree or her father to solve her problems were done. The cross was now hers alone to bear.
China took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. She opened the stall door and walked over to the sink. The person staring back at her in the mirror was unrecognizable. She wore her life’s stresses on her face. The dark circles and bags under her eyes had dulled her youthful glow. She twisted the knob, letting the water run some before cupping her hands under the stream, splashing water on her face. The cold sensation revived her, pumping life into her face and energy into her body. China snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and wiped the excess moisture from her face, then tossed them in the trash. She wrapped a black scarf around her head twice, letting the loose ends flow, then wrapped it around her neck once. She slipped a pair of dark shades onto her face, then exited the bathroom. Moving quickly and with determination through the bus terminal, China blended into the line of people boarding the Greyhound bus. Her shades hid the sadness in her eyes, but she was wishing she could hide herself from the world, disappearing into the deepest obscurity. She kept her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The line was moving at a snail’s pace, and her anxiety mounted. The closer she got to the bus, the more she peered over her shoulder, hoping none of Cinco’s goons were lurking. Secretly, she hoped Bree would come bursting through the door at any minute, racing toward her like the ending scene in a romantic movie. In a perfect world, he would pick her up and twirl her around, kissing her passionately as everybody in the bus station began to clap, then the credits would roll. But China’s life was far from the fairy tales in the movies, and there would be no happy ending for her or Bree. Only distress and unhappiness. An air of melancholy surrounded her as she stood at the bottom step of the bus. She turned to look back over her shoulder one last time, then stepped up onto the bus.
Expressionless, China sat quietly in her seat, staring out the window into space, fighting back tears as she let her mind roam. I had to do it, she told herself. Leaving Bree behind was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. She felt weak without him, but she would have been weaker with him. The gunshot had left him powerless; he could no longer defend himself. How was he supposed to protect her? China had grown a strong dependency on him like a drug, but she understood breaking away from Bree was going cold, and it wouldn’t be an easy task. Just like an addict fighting to break the stranglehold of a drug, China had to shut off all thoughts of him in order to avoid relapsing. Her choice to leave him was a selfish decision, but it had to be done. Her will to live superseded her will to love. It was her against the world. No Bree … no daddy … no one. I told him to come on. I tried to wait. If I had waited any longer, it would have gotten us both
caught or worse. China tried to convince herself more that her decision was just. If he really loved me, he would want me to survive. If it was me, I would’ve done the same for him. One of us should live.
China was a mess. The anxiety she was feeling made her body tense up, and her knee begin to shake. Soon thoughts of her dad invaded her mind. She truly had no one to turn to. She was on this bus, on her way to New York, all by herself with no family on her side, no boyfriend, and no allies. Had she not let Bree beat her father almost to the end of his life, she probably would have had the chance to make things right with him. Maybe she could have apologized for all of her wrongdoings and promised him she would start anew. She could have left Bree, told her father everything that had transpired, and gotten help. Nah, he wouldn’t have helped me. He told me I was nothing to him anymore. And even if he did, Cinco’s goons would have found me and killed me, and then him. It is good he wants nothing to do with me. It is the safest thing for him.
China took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to relax and accept what her life had become. After all, she had still come out on top. She was on the bus that would take her away from it all—Bree, her father, and most important, Cinco’s hit squad. She had outsmarted them all.
A smile slowly creased her lips as her thoughts turned more optimistic. She was getting an opportunity to hit the reset button on her life, something not many got the chance to do, and the possibilities were endless. China pulled out the fake passport with her new identity and checked it out once again. It was flawlessly done, but her nerves caused her to doubt it, giving her the need to look at it again. Satisfied, she pulled out the money they had scraped together while on the run and gave it a quick count. It was definitely enough to hold her down when she arrived at her destination, at least long enough to plot her next move. She placed the money and passport back inside a little bag she had picked up from the gift shop inside the terminal, then placed it between her legs for safekeeping. China pressed the button on the armrest, letting her chair recline some. Finding a comfortable spot, she laid her head back and closed her eyes as the bus continued to fill up. She was exhausted and planned on catching up on all the sleep she had missed over the past forty-eight hours. The long ride to New York would give her plenty of time to do so. Finally able to relax, she quickly began nodding off, as the bus remained idle, waiting to pull out of the station.
Just as she was sinking deeper into a well-needed slumber, China felt a heavy thud as someone sat down in the empty seat next to her. The bump disturbed her rest briefly, but she never opened her eyes, trying to recapture he sleep as quickly as possible. For some reason, China couldn’t get comfortable again, moving and shifting in her seat. An eerie feeling came over her. She could feel the aura of the person next to her, and the energy made her uncomfortable.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The hauntingly familiar voice shook her soul, and a gut-wrenching fear took over her body instantly. China was frozen as every muscle in her body tensed up, rendering her temporarily paralyzed. Suddenly, her seat violently lunged forward to an upright position.
“Look at me,” Cinco said, gripping the back of her neck and forcefully turning her face toward him.
Terror-stricken and breathless, China couldn’t speak or believe her eyes as she took in Cinco’s gruesome appearance. His disfigured look made him more intimidating than she remembered, and creepy. He sported dark shades to cover the fact that he was missing an eye and had a scar that stretched from the nape of his neck to the crown of his bald head, the result of a vicious beating.
“You thought you were gonna get away from me that easy?” he taunted. “Get up now,” he ordered, sticking a gun into her ribs. “If you make a scene, it’ll only be worse on you.”
China lowered her head, broken and defeated. “How’d you find me?” she asked in a low tone, timid and afraid. She had been caught by the grim reaper, only worse, and she was at his mercy.
Chapter 10
The black Lincoln Navigator pulled into the old condemned slaughterhouse in the middle of the desert. It had once been a thriving business that employed thousands of workers until the recession hit and the economic decline forced its door to close permanently. Now the plant was abandoned and overrun by stray animals and rodents. But meetings were still being conducted within its walls, just by figures in the underworld. The bloodstained floors told stories of not only the meatpacking plant once housed there but also the murders that had been carried out in the warehouse. The rancid smell of death made the air unbreathable, choking China as Cinco shoved her in the back, pushing her through the open door of the abandoned warehouse and making her keep moving. She knew her demise was inevitable. Her only hope was that it was fast and painless, but she would have no such luck. Cinco was a man hell-bent on revenge, and his payback would be taken in blood.
China tried to remain calm, not wanting to show any emotions, but her fear was raging out of control. Cinco was a heartless, cold-blooded killer with a blood lust. And he wouldn’t be satisfied putting a single bullet in to her head, ending it all. No, that would be too easy for a woman like China. She needed to suffer.
Cinco forced China deeper and deeper into the warehouse before striking her with the butt of his gun in the middle of her back.
She cried out, dropping to her knees as the pain shot through her body.
Cinco pointed his gun at her head, causing her to cower in fear as he began to circle her methodically.
“China, China, China,” he repeated, slow and deliberate. “You know I always liked you. I always thought you were such a beautiful woman. But I must admit I was a little disappointed at you choosing to be with a punk like Bree. You could have been on my arm.” He shook his head back and forth, dismayed by her choice. “You can tell a lot about a woman by the company she keeps. And I always questioned your intelligence for choosing Bree. But I never thought you were stupid enough to try and rob me,” he said, backhanding her across the face, causing blood to trickle from her mouth and nose. “I underestimated your stupidity, and you underestimated my vengeance,” he said with a smug grin, then motioned to one of his henchmen.
The man flipped the light switch, and Bree appeared before her eyes. China cringed in agony and screamed as tears began to fall at the sight of his bloody body hanging from the ceiling. He had been beaten and tortured beyond recognition. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she felt crushed under the weight of it. All the love she had tried to suppress came spilling out of her at once. She screamed at the top of her lungs, horrified at Bree’s seemingly lifeless body swinging by his arms.
“You thought you two fucks could outsmart me? You thought you could get away with it, huh?” Cinco seethed, removing his suit jacket, then unbuttoning his dress shirt and doing the same. He began circling a battered Bree, who was barely conscious and clinging to life.
The mixture of sweat and blood made Bree’s eyes burn. His vision was blurry, and all he saw was shadows in front of him as the lights flipped on. His body ached all over from the constant torture he had received at the hands of Cinco. His wrists were bleeding from the chain holding him up and digging into his skin. He was in tremendous pain and could feel death looming. The frigid chill in his bones told him the end was near.
“Bree!” China called out.
Cinco’s devilish grin turned into a haunting laugh as he continued circling Bree, preparing to attack. He picked up a bucket of water that rested on the ground near Bree’s hanging feet and tossed it on him.
“Wake up. It’s not time to die yet,” he taunted as the cold water splashed on Bree, reviving him. His body began to shiver involuntarily as all the nerves in his body began to twitch.
Bree was now fully aware of his surroundings, and he finally heard China’s bloodcurdling screams calling his name. He immediately felt guilty for exposing her whereabouts to Cinco. In a brief moment of weakness and anger, Bree wanted to exact revenge on China. But hearing her in terror didn’t
give him the sense of gratification he sought. He still loved her with whatever was left of him and wished he could take back what he had done. For her part, China wish she could take back her betrayal as well.
“Do you believe in God up there?” Cinco asked a hysterical China as he pointed to the sky.
“Yes,” she said, sniffling, trying to speak.
“Well, I’m God down here,” he said. “But we do share one thing in common.” He removed his dark shades, revealing his full face to China, who gasped in horror at the hole were his eye once was. “We both believe in an eye for an eye.” Cinco picked up a knife from the table and jabbed it into Bree’s eye.
Bree let out a high-pitched shriek that echoed through the entire warehouse as blood gushed from his eye. Cinco continued digging the knife in.
The gruesome scene made even some of Cinco’s toughest henchmen turn away. The grin on Cinco’s face showed his enjoyment. China’s skin crawled from the sound of Bree howling in pain. She dropped her head and began vomiting, unable to stomach the carnage.
Cinco was covered in Bree’s blood and reveling in the torture he was administering. China’s pleas for mercy were falling on deaf ears as Cinco continued the torture, firing up a blowtorch. He marveled at the blue flame, knowing the pain it could cause. He placed it to the side of Bree’s face and watched as the skin began to cook, bubble, and blister. The charred smell of cooked flesh filled the air. Cinco inhaled deeply, taking in a whiff of burnt flesh as Bree cried out in anguish.
“Please stop!” China shouted.