More gunfire from the hangar. Human thought surfaces once again, questioning. Should she go back to protect her friends, or follow the blood bags running away like rats from a flood?
The decision is made for her. Vehicles with sides made of gray metal, a silver star emblazoned on the sides and front, thunder onto the airstrip after Pablo’s fleeing troops. They shoot at the backs of the soldiers who fall one by one.
No need for vampire here.
She whirls around. She can see what is going on inside the hangar. A giant snake has cornered a man and a woman. The snake hisses with a tongue like a split rope, turning every few seconds to strike at a soldier venturing too close. One is too slow. Snake catches his arm in his jaws, shakes him until the arm comes free, spraying blood. He deposits the arm in front of the cowering man like a cat offering a mouse to his owner. Bullets whiz through the air around it, but snake is impervious. The woman shrieks and covers her eyes.
Vampire knows there is someone else in danger. She looks around, senses alert for a familiar scent. She catches it above the intermingled smells of blood and body waste. There. Under the plane.
Instinctively vampire knows that he is who she must protect. He has his arm around a girl, pushing her behind him, shielding her body with his. He is firing his rifle, aiming at soldiers who pass too close or stoop to shoot at him. His face is serious, intent. The girl, whose hands are tied at her back, cowers close.
Vampire fights her way to him. She feels the sting of bullets in her arms, in one shoulder, but the soldiers feel more than pain when she’s on them and their blood flows in a molten stream into her eager mouth. One, two, three, four go down before her and then she’s under the plane.
The man smiles at her. “Anna. Take care of Adelita.”
The human inside responds to the name Anna.
The girl is smiling, too. Not afraid or preparing to flee. She holds out her hands. Vampire allows the human Anna to surface enough to tell her what to do. It is easy. It takes only a tug at the ropes at the girl’s wrists and they come free.
The girl touches vampire’s wounds. Her fingers are like a kiss.
The man is speaking. “Get Adelita out.”
Vampire gathers the girl, as light as her touch, into her arms. She listens to the rhythm of the gunfire, determines where it has slowed or stopped and leaps forward.
There is one corner where all the soldiers lie dead or still. It’s behind the giant snake and his captives. She makes for that corner.
Snake watches her come, but there is no challenge. Instead, he seems to bow his head at her in recognition. Vampire deposits the girl and leaves her in his care to go back to the man.
The sound of gunfire grows more sporadic. Most of it from the battle going on outside. But a group of soldiers are still firing at the figure under the plane. They are all around, knowing he is trapped, knowing he can only fire in one direction at a time. The plane reeks of spilled fuel as bullets pierce its metal skin. The stink curls vampire’s nose. The man under the plane motions for her.
“Get away,” he yells. “The plane may explode.”
But vampire makes for the two soldiers closest to her, tackles them to the ground, snaps their arms and throws their rifles out of reach.
The remaining three see what has happened. Turn their rifles on her. But bullets are no match for vampire speed. She attacks them before they can take aim. The first two, she kills efficiently—snapping necks that pop like dried wood. The third she takes her time, pinning him to the ground, letting him see her eyes before she nuzzles his neck for the first nip. He is too scared to move, to fight her off. His heart thunders in his chest, which makes the taking of his blood all the easier. She doesn’t have to pull with force or clamp tight lips against a squirming neck. His blood flows into her mouth with each beat.
His blood tastes the best of all.
In a minute his heart has stopped, his life force drained. Vampire rests her head against his chest.
Then her eyes drift to the man under the plane.
Blood. In a wide swath under him.
She doesn’t have time to resist the human’s pull. Anna is back.
CHAPTER 58
“MAX!”
I scoot myself under the plane, ignoring the flashes of white-hot pain that shoot from my arms, my shoulder. I leave a crimson path as I crawl forward. I don’t worry about the blood. The blood could be mine, it could be my victims’.
But I do worry about the blood around Max.
I look for the source. I have to raise him up to find it—center back. My breath catches at the severity of the wound. He coughs and I lower him again, gently.
But at least he’s alive.
I cradle his head in my arms. His mouth is ringed with blood, dark, viscous. For once, the sight and smell of blood does not tempt vampire to reappear. I think she’s sleeping it off.
I listen to what’s going on around me. It’s quiet inside the hangar and only an occasional stray bullet whizzes outside. I won’t try to move Max until I know it’s safe. I’m debating whether to leave Max and look around when a familiar voice calls out, “Anna. Where are you?”
Culebra.
“Here. Max is hurt.”
In a moment, Culebra, back in human form and dressed, is kneeling to look under the belly of the plane. “Can we move him?”
“I don’t know. He’s been shot in the back. It looks pretty bad.”
He scoots down to join me. After he’s examined the wound, he sits back on his haunches.
I respond to his grim expression, heart racing. “Don’t say it. Max is strong. His buddies are outside. They can call that helicopter, can’t they?”
“Let’s get him out from under here,” is Culebra’s curt reply.
We do our best to move Max as gently as we can. I keep expecting him to rouse and ask us what the fuck we’re doing.
But he doesn’t.
When he’s out in the open, I look around.
Bodies. Everywhere. Some I know I’m responsible for, others dead from gunfire or the fangs of a huge rattlesnake.
Adelita is still in the corner where I left her. Only now she holds a revolver on a trussed-up Pablo and a weeping Maria. They are tied back to back. And Adelita is smiling.
Until she looks our way and sees Max. “Dios mio. ¿Es él vivo?”
From beyond the hangar door, a voice interrupts. “Agent Avillas! Max? Buddy? Where are you?”
“In here,” I shout back. “He’s been hurt.”
Max still hasn’t made a sound except that cough and even now, his eyes remain closed, his face relaxed. Like he’s sleeping. It’s not a good sign.
I watch for the man who called out. He’s approaching with two armed men behind him, speaking into a radio on his collar. He looks Hispanic, dark skinned, dark eyed, built like a man who likes his beer. All three are dressed the same—khaki shirts and cargo pants, black DEA jackets. The one in front has a baseball cap and he’s the one Culebra moves toward. He explains the situation. Baseball cap looks in our direction, but directs the two agents beside him to take Pablo and Maria outside. Then he hurries over to us.
He kneels down beside Max. “Did he stop breathing?” is the first question he asks me.
It only takes a heartbeat to know the reason. The blood around Max’s mouth.
And around mine.
“No. But he’s lost a lot of blood. He needs to get to a hospital.”
The guy speaks into the radio. He uses the clipped, acronym-filled lingo of one agent to another. But when the answer comes back, it’s something I can understand.
They will have the helicopter here in thirty minutes.
I look at Max. He doesn’t look like Max anymore. He’s gone from pale to ashen. I can see through his eyelids. The pool of blood under him is too big, too thick. His breath is so shallow, it hardly flutters his chest.
I touch his cheek. I hope he has thirty minutes.
* * *
FOR THE FIRST TIME, C
ULEBRA, ADELITA AND I ARE ABLE to sit together without a gun or the threat of violence hanging over our heads. We sit close to Max so we can watch one of the agents, a medic, attend to him. The medic packs the wound to staunch the flow of blood, runs an IV to replenish liquids. He won’t give us a prognosis. And Max still hasn’t regained consciousness.
The medic looks at me, bloodsoaked but apparently unhurt, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t need medical attention, too?”
I shake my head. I can feel four bullets, one in each arm, one in my left shoulder and a fourth (which I didn’t know about until it started moving) in my right thigh. I’ve been shot before, but it’s always been through and through. I don’t know what to expect with these wounds. Will the bullets work their way to the surface of my skin and have to be squeezed out like metal blackheads?
A charming visual.
I’ve had a healthy infusion of blood so I’m not worried about my body’s ability to heal itself. Actually, I’m not even in much pain.
I dip my head in Culebra’s direction. “What about you? Were you hit by any of those bullets zipping about?”
He shakes his head. Out loud, he says, “Lucky, I guess.” Internally, he says, Hard to hit anything when you’re shaking so bad, you can barely hold a gun, let alone aim it. No human is prepared for the sight of a rattlesnake as long as two men.
Adelita wrings her hands. “Max will be all right, won’t he?”
She addresses the question to no one and everyone. I wish I could give her an unequivocal yes, but she’s seen so much death today, unless Max opened his eyes and told her himself, I doubt she’d believe it.
Open your eyes, Max. I want to believe it, too.
Outside the hangar, the agents have rounded up the survivors of Pablo’s gang and have them bound and gagged, awaiting the Federales. Only Pablo and Maria will be flown back to the border. I suspect most of the gang will be back on the streets in twenty-four hours. And with Luis and Pablo out of the picture, they’ll be jockeying for leadership of the cartel.
So what exactly have we accomplished?
I look at Max, lying pale and still on the ground. What did he tell Luis? We might not have made a dent in the drug trade, but we’ve taken two predators off the street.
If he dies, was it worth it?
Adelita is leaning over Max, wiping his face with a damp cloth. She’s alive.
There are four young girls in a safe house—unmolested and alive.
Max’s body suddenly jerks. His back arches, his chest heaves as if his lungs can no longer draw air. The medic shoulders Adelita aside and listens to Max’s chest with a stethoscope. “He has a collapsed lung.”
He goes to work with items he pulls from his bag—a scalpel, a tube, something that looks like a manual suction pump. He makes an incision in the skin above Max’s rib cage, inserts the tube and works the pump. Pale liquid flows into the tube and almost instantly, Max relaxes. The medic places an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He drops the suction pump and yells to his buddies by the hangar door, “How much longer ’til that chopper gets here?”
CHAPTER 59
I HAVE MY ARMS AROUND ADELITA’S SHOULDERS. WE watch the medivac helicopter rise into the air. I wanted to go along with Max, but they wouldn’t allow it. Family maybe, but a civilian, no. They’re taking him to a Texas trauma hospital in McAllen until he’s stabilized. Then he’ll be transferred to a hospital in San Diego, near his home.
He never regained consciousness. He doesn’t know that Pablo is in custody. He doesn’t know that Culebra, Adelita and I made it out alive.
We return to the hangar. A mop-up operation is in full swing. Body bags are laid out. Nineteen of Pablo’s men were killed, several Federales, two DEA agents. The injured are on their way by ambulances to Reynosa—under heavy guard. Those forensic reports on Pablo’s men should make for interesting reading. I don’t know what kind of explanation will be offered for the number of broken necks and bloodless bodies or the suspicious fang marks of a huge snake on some of the bodies. Maybe no one will care how the narcos died.
Two rows of weapons are laid out, too, thirty AK-47s, ten Glocks and revolvers, a couple of knives big as machetes. Culebra can’t seem to take his eyes off the rifles. His thoughts are cloaked, but I don’t need the link to feel his despair.
Pablo and Maria are on their way by a second chopper to the San Diego border where both Federales and Federal agents are waiting to take them into custody. And to make sure they stay in custody. The U.S. government made it clear that this time, there will be no loopholes for Pablo to wiggle through. There was another incident of American tourists killed in narco cross fire just this morning. If Mexico is unwilling or unable to hold him, Pablo will be extradited to the U.S. to assure he is tried for his crimes. Baseball cap accompanied them along with a half dozen armed guards. They are taking no chances.
That leaves ten DEA agents, some Federales, Culebra, Adelita and me. The pilot and remaining uninjured narcos have been taken into custody by the Federales. The hangar is heavy with the smell of blood and death.
One of the agents sees us standing by Max’s car and walks over. For the first time, someone asks for identification. Culebra fishes his from the pocket of his jeans. It takes me a minute to remember where mine is—the glove compartment of the Explorer. I retrieve it with my wallet and hand it over.
He examines them. “You are free to go,” he says, handing our passports back. His eyes go to Adelita. “Are you a Mexican citizen?” he asks.
Culebra answers for her. “Yes. I’d like Adelita to come with me. She may be called as a witness against Pablo Santiago. I’m sure you’ve heard how he allowed his brother to kidnap and rape her. Then they destroyed her identification and left her for dead. I would like to assume responsibility for her safety. Agent Avillas made arrangements for her a day or two ago. If you check—”
The agent waves a hand. “I’ll take your word for it. But she is going to need papers. I’ll check with our field office and see what we can do.”
Once he’s walked far enough away, Culebra whispers to Adelita. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Think maybe you should have asked her first?” I ask.
Adelita looks from Culebra to me, her face sad and serious.
Culebra draws a breath. “I’m sorry. You have family here. I should have thought. We can explain to the agent when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll make arrangements to get you home safely.”
Adelita shakes her head. “I do have family here,” she says slowly. “Family that did not raise a hand to protect me when Ramon came for me. No one held them at gunpoint or threatened them. They must have known there were no jobs waiting for us. Other girls have been taken. None returned. Yet they let me go.” She stops abruptly, takes a breath. “You and Anna and Max have done more for me in three days than they had done all the years of my life. I would be proud to go with you.”
I frown at Culebra. “You can’t expect her to live with you in the cave.”
Adelita’s eyes grow big. “A cave? Like Ramon’s?”
“Uh—no.” Culebra’s shoulders hunch a little. “But it will only be temporary. I’ll get you enrolled in a good boarding school in Tijuana. I’ll come visit you every weekend.”
Adelita hooks her hand in Culebra’s arm and turns my way. “Do you live in Culebra’s cave, too?”
I laugh. “No. More like the bar. Actually, I live in San Diego. My home is right on the ocean.” I give Culebra a glance, realizing he’s never been to the cottage. “We’ll get Culebra to bring you to visit soon.”
Culebra raises his eyebrows, but Adelita has already chimed in with, “I’d like that,” so he can’t argue.
The agent who checked our IDs is coming back. He has a paper in his hand. “This is a temporary ID,” he says, handing it to Adelita. “You were right. Max had already set it up. But this is only temporary. You need to get official papers as soon as possible.”
“I’ll see t
hat she does,” Culebra replies.
“How do you plan to get back?”
I glance at Max’s Explorer. “Can we take Max’s car? I’ll see it gets back to his apartment.”
“I don’t see why not.” The agent grins at me. “Max used to talk about you all the time. Then he stopped. If what broke you up can be fixed, I bet Max would make the effort. I’d never seen a man more crazy in love.”
I feel color flood up my neck. What broke us up is Max seeing something like what happened here—and running away from it as quickly as he could. Some damage can’t be repaired.
Even if Max survives.
The agent sees my discomfort. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He makes a self-conscious noise in his throat and changes the subject. “Do you have the keys?”
I cross to the driver’s side of the Explorer and look in. “Keys are in the ignition.”
“Then we have all the information we need. You are probably anxious to be on your way.” He gives us a two-fingered salute to the bill of his cap and turns on his heels. I think he’s the one anxious to get away, embarrassed he said anything about Max and me.
I gesture for Culebra and Adelita to join me. Hand the keys to Culebra.
“You want me to drive the first shift?” he asks.
“I want you to drive home. With Adelita.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not coming?”
I glance toward the helicopter still visible in the distance. “I’m going to the hospital. Stay in McAllen until I know Max is all right.”
Culebra tilts his head and peers into my face. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you at home?”
“Probably not,” I answer. “I’ll call Stephen as soon as I can.”
“Where are you going to stay? Do you have money for a hotel?”
I wave my wallet. “I’ll be fine.
Adelita steps up to me and hugs me so fiercely, I gasp. Then I laugh and hug her back. “Call me as soon as you get to Beso de la Muerte.”
Culebra watches as she crosses to the passenger side of the car. “You should be proud of what we’ve done today,” he says.
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