“Are you fucking stupid? You can’t go in there. He’ll tear you apart. They both will. Karlstad doesn’t know you right now, he doesn’t know anyone. He only knows the hunger for blood, and it will be your blood he tastes if you go in there. He’ll kill you.”
Neesha, frustrated, on the verge of tears turned to Els. “Els? Let’s get the fuck out of here, please. Will you come with me? This is wrong. I can’t watch this.”
“We have to,” said Els. “We have to for Karlstad. It’s all we can do now. We can only watch and hope he doesn’t die.”
“What? No. Let’s get out of her. Please come with me. Please.”
“It’s too late. It’s going to happen whether we’re here or not. The least we can do is watch.”
“Yes, you’re right. That is the absolute least we could do.”
“It’s too late,” Els repeated.
And it was.
The man in the rhinestone shirt said something that got lost in the din of the crowd, he held one arm out in front of him with his fingers together pointing out like the blade of a sword. He dropped his arm and the two men in their corners let the dogs loose.
They met in the center of the ring, both on their hind legs, hurling themselves at the other and colliding in a frenzy of desperate snapping teeth.
As Neesha watched, she saw nothing elegant or graceful. It was clumsy and savage, something primitive and crude; the instinct to kill without the reasoning to understand why. She looked away and saw Seve. His eyes were like two dull stones set into his head as he screamed along with the crowd, enthralled by bloodlust.
In the ring, the black-and-white dog Hercules had his teeth clamped down around the skin of Karlstad’s face. His mouth filled with blood as he twisted and shook, and the blood and slaver flowed out of the dog’s mouth and splattered onto the dirt.
She looked at Els, hands together, clenched and brought to her chest in an unconscious expression of concern. Neesha reached out and took Els’ hand to hold it. She squeezed and held tight, Els squeezed back, not taking her eyes off the brawl.
The crowed cheered as Karlstad, at great pain to himself, twisted his face out of Hercules’ mouth, shredding his skin along the razors of teeth, and sunk his own teeth down high on the other dog’s shoulder. Karlstad shook his head, the fur matted with blood and dirt, and tore into the muscle. The blood was pouring out of the other dog now and his chest and foreleg were soaked with it. The dirt floor beneath them was turning to mud. Karlstad shook his head again, burying his teeth deeper while Hercules snapped at him in pain and desperation, unable to get his mouth around any part of him.
Neesha could smell it. Not just the wounds, the hot splash of blood mixing with earth, but another stink, something acrid and unpleasant. It was the sharp smell of adrenaline and fury and the pheromone scent of combat. It made her gag. As she watched Karlstad latch onto the other dog, her mind called forth images she had not been conscious of for days. She saw the bodies of the murdered family in the gas station. A man, woman and child slumped over like dolls, holes bored into them by shotgun blasts and dead in their own stinking bath of viscera. She saw it as clearly as she saw what was in front of her: humans deformed by death, only husks of meat left to rot and feed insects. In the spilled blood she saw every injustice and act of cruelty ever visited upon mankind. She felt the lights dim and the barn seemed to shrink around her.
She had to get out.
Els looked away from the fight to see Neesha back away, horrified, and then turn to push herself through an unconcerned crowd that barely noticed her. But there were two in the crowd who did notice her, and they pushed through to follower her outside.
Els watched the bodies fill in around the gap that Neesha had created. She thought about following her, and was prepared to do so when, Hercules, nearly blind with pain, made a desperate lunge at Karlstad’s back leg and managed to wrap his mouth around and bite down. Karlstad released his hold on the other dog and let out a surprised, high-pitched yelp. He wrestled his leg out of Hercules’ mouth and managed to put a little distance between them. They were both exhausted and circled each other, hackles raised, growling, their teeth exposed. They charged at one another again and came together. The black-and-white dog brought his teeth to Karlstad’s face once more and when those jagged spikes had done their job, Karlstad came away with a deep puncture in his eye. It was closed now and weeping something pus-colored out of the narrow slit that held it.
The crowd grew rabid as they sensed the end coming, screaming, spittle flying from their lips, no more than animals themselves in their frenzy.
But Karlstad was not finished. His pain and the loss of his eye had only fed his fury and made him more wild. He tasted death, and it would not be his own.
He flew into the other dog in a sudden burst of frantic intensity, slamming into him with a force like a train that had left its track. Hercules was caught off guard by the fervor of the charge and tried to brace himself with his wounded leg. It could not support him and he slipped for just a moment. But that short moment was all that Karlstad needed and he latched onto him again and started to thrash his head, bury his teeth in him. Karlstad had the other dog not by the shoulder or the head this time, but his jaws were clamped squarely around his throat in a death-grip.
Hercules, with the blood and life draining out of him from a hundred wounds, went down. He rolled over to his back in a display of submission, a plea for mercy, but there was no mercy in Karlstad, as he knew there would not be if the situation were reversed. This could only end in death.
Hercules, dying slow on his back, lay there with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, too weak to defend himself anymore. His eyes rolled and he saw the crowd cheering his death, the men excited, passing handfuls of bills to each other, jumping up and down.
And then he saw no more as Karlstad rushed in to deliver the death blow. He bit down on the other dog’s exposed throat with his wide, powerful jaws and he shook until there was no life in him anymore and Hercules became like a limp bundle of rags in his teeth.
It was over. The fat man came and grabbed Karlstad by the collar. He had to lift him up to get him to let go of the passive lump of dead dog. When he finally got them separated, Karlstad’s mouth came away red with Hercules’ ragged elastic tendons snapping back out of his clenched grip.
Seve climbed over the partition and walked calmly over to the victorious dog. Karlstad’s tale waved at the sight of his master as he kneeled down to run his hand over the dog’s wounded head and examine the weeping socket that Karlstad would never see out of again.
He turned back to the crowd to find Els, but she was gone. Left to find her friend, he presumed. The girls were not pleased with him, he understood that and had expected as much. This was a hard lesson he had taught them, that what one culture feigns to value can be something another culture views as, if not insignificant, then at least has enough sense of honesty to overcome the delusion of sanctimony. Life was a struggle, and as fast as the winds change, sometimes you will suddenly find yourself fighting for your life. The dogs knew it, it was simple to them and they were better for it.
The fat man handed the leash to Seve and he hooked it around Karlstad’s collar to lead him out of the back of the barn where the other dogs waited in kennels for their fights. There would be half as many after tonight. Karlstad would have the blood washed off of him and receive medical attention, stitches, painkillers. Maybe his eye could be saved, Seve hoped. Still. . . It could be worse, he thought, looking down at his dog. He was proud.
From inside the barn there was a sudden bang of gunshot, the consolation prize for the loser. Hercules was already dead, it seemed, but the bullet was tradition, to end the loser’s misery and prolong his owner’s.
Outside, the dogs were silent in the night, and the whole area was oddly empty. There should have been handlers and owners pacing nervously, waiting for their turns to fight. There should have been a vet waiting to attend to Karlstad. But there was
nothing, just the shade of black, hard tufts of scrub grass on the ground, the sound of crickets and the endless field stretching to become a single thing with the blackness before it.
He looked down at Karlstad, the loyal killer. If he was in pain he was to proud to show it. Seve admired that grim determination to live without fear or pain. He liked to think he had some of that within him. He tied Karlstad’s leash around a water spigot sticking out of the ground. He would leave him there while he searched for the vet.
The first blow shattered Seve’s skull like a poorly cracked egg. He was stunned, but he didn’t fall down. The dull thud of impact had left a numbness in his ears and an explosion of pure white light blooming from behind his eyeballs. As his hearing returned with a high ringing, he was vaguely aware of Karlstad barking.
Gusano swung the pipe into Seve’s head once more in the same spot he had struck the first time, this time when the pipe connected it was less unyielding, like beating a watermelon. The end of the pipe came away bloody and with a clump of hair stuck to it as he positioned to swing again. He brought the pipe down on his head again and Seve crumpled and fell limp into the dirt.
Again and again Gusano smashed the pipe into Seve’s unconscious head, and when he was done, when he was satisfied,Seve’s skull was deformed and no longer contained the shape of a human man. It looked like a huge swollen and squashed eggplant stuffed with bloody ground beef. Gusano tossed the pipe and calmly walked away with the dog still barking and Seve’s blood soaking into the earth.
Karlstad managed to slip out of his collar a minute later and he went to his master and he tenderly licked at the blood leaking into his hair.
TWENTY EIGHT
Els walked out through the wide barn door. She passed a small circle of men drinking beer out of cans and talking excitedly. She stood on the very edge of the light cast from inside the barn and looked out into the darkness. She could not see Neesha. She went around to one side of the barn and saw nothing. On the other she saw a man arguing with a woman, attracting half-hearted attention from a smattering of onlookers. Their attention was raised slightly as the man drew back his hand and slapped the woman across the face full force. She fell to the ground and as the man walked away, the onlookers chuckled lightly among themselves but quickly lost interest.
Els decided to walk to the car, Neesha would probably be there, maybe sitting on the hood to spite Seve when he finally found her. She smiled at the thought. Seve deserved a lot more than a few ass-shaped impressions on the hood of his car, but that was as good a place to start as any.
She wound her way through the parking free-for-all in front of the barn and when she came to Seve’s black Lexus, Neesha was not there.
Now Els was starting to feel the first hint of worry. Echos of their first night in Texas, when Neesha had been kidnapped. She tried to calm her active mind, but the more she did, the more scenarios it concocted, and none of them were pleasant for Neesha.
She turned to head back to the barn. She would search inside it when she got there. And if she couldn’t find Neesha, then she would find Seve. The important thing right now was not to panic, keep your head clear and think, she told herself. So she made her way back through the maze of automobiles, calmly, not rushing to any hysteric conclusions, not rushing anywhere. “Calm,” she said the word under her breath. As she approached the barn, she noticed a pain in her hand. She looked at it and saw it was clenched so tight she had to pry her fingers apart, and when she did she had little bloody indentions of half circles embedded in her palms.
A sudden blast of gunfire from inside the barn and she started. Her nerves were raw and the bang caused a tremor like a tight wave of dread through her body.
She started to move toward the barn again, nearing the entrance, the huge square of light with the men inside, packing down the dusty floor with the heels of boots and soles of tennis shoes. That was where she would find Neesha. She would find her friend and they would leave this ugly, hateful place and never come back. She didn’t fully understand what this night would mean for her future with Neesha and Seve and Karlstad, but she did know that she did want to be together with them right now more than anything.
She was almost at the door when she felt something hard jam up against her spine. She stopped moving.
“There you are,” said Gusano from behind her. “I’ll bet you thought you weren’t gonna see me again, didn’t you, little angel with the big tits?”
Els didn’t respond.
Gusano moved his mouth over her ear and she could feel his hot breath as he whispered to her. “You want to run?” he asked. “You want to scream? Look around. Go ahead do it.” Els looked at the men standing outside, the ones with the beer cans. “You see them? Answer me. Do you see them?”
“Yes,” said Els.
“Yes you do. They look like heroes to you?”
“No.”
“That’s right. And you know what you look like to them? You don’t look like anything, cause they don’t want to see you. And I’m the invisible man. You feel that pressed against your back? You know what that is?”
“Ruger SR9 nine millimeter with a ten round capacity clip.” Els answer.
Gusano was a little taken aback by her specifics. He jammed it harder into her back. “It’s a fucking gun. You know what that means, you know what you’re going to do now?”
“No,” said Els.
“Whatever the fuck I tell you to, or I’m going to put a bullet in your fucking spine. Might not even kill you, might just paralyze you from the neck down. You want that? You want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair, shitting in a bag?”
“No,” said Els.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. You see that blue car over there?”
“Yes,” said Els. There was a blue Volvo pulled up to the side of the barn.
“I want you to start walking towards it. You walk slow, unless you can outrun bullets. Can you outrun bullets, baby?”
“No,” said Els.
“No you can’t, not with those big tits flopping around when you run.”
Els started walking toward the car.
“Just in case you’re wondering,” Gusano said as they went through the bare patch of earth outside the barn, “Is he going to save me? He ain't. Your little buddy, the man with the dog, he’s dead. I killed him. As of right now, there’s no hero, there’s no Seve, there’s no God. It’s just you and me now. And I’m the one with the gun.”
When they reached the Volvo the back door swung open and Els felt a shudder of anguish go through her.
Neesha was in the car.
She looked small and frightened next to Primo. Tears were streaming down her face as the big man held the gun to her head. He was behind her, one big arm over her shoulder and folded over her chest, the other pressing a gun, an Uzi .9 millimeter, to her temple.
Stop crying, Neesha.
“Get in,” Gusano said, nudging her into the seat next to Neesha with his gun.
Gusano slammed the door beside her and opened the driver door to get in.
Els looked at Neesha, her wet face wracked with terror. Els moved her hand overtop Neesha’s, a feeble attempt at comfort.
She looked into her eyes, “It’s alright,” she said. “Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay. I promise. I won’t let them hurt you. They’ll have to kill me, and they might, but they’ll die, too. You’re going to be safe. I’ll do everything I can to make sure of it.”
“I don’t want to die. Oh my God, I don’t want to die, Els. They’re going to kill us,” Neesha said in a halted sob.
“No they won’t. I won’t let them. But, Neesha, I know you’re scared right now, I’m scared too, but you have to try and stop crying. Please, honey, don’t give them the satisfaction. They want you to be afraid. Don’t show them that you are. Don’t give them what they want.”
Gusano watched and listened to all this from the front seat, looking in to the rear view. He found it amusin
g. There was something almost dangerous about the little white girl. He didn’t understand it, but there was something savage in her eyes. Something deadly. He looked at Primo and spoke to him in Spanish, “Watch the little one. She might be crazy, suicidal or something. She’s gonna try and pull some shit when we get moving, so be ready. She wants to protect her friend. You keep that gun at her head, maybe hurt her a little if the other one gets brave. Maybe break the black one’s fingers or something.”
Primo grimaced at that. “Ugh, I don’t know. I hate the sound of bones breaking. It’s like some people hate nails on a chalkboard, you know?”
“I don’t give a shit if you break her fingers or not. I’m just telling you to watch out for the little one. I think she’s crazy.”
“No, I’ll do it if have to. I’ve done it before, I just don’t really like it.”
“That’s really great, man. I’m glad you’re willing to take yourself out of your comfort zone to torture people.”
“Well, it’s the job, isn’t it? If I didn’t want to break people’s fingers I would have to sell oranges or whatever.”
“Goddamn,” muttered Gusano. He put the Volvo into drive and took the car out of the field and onto the dirt road. He pointed it at Colzorona and drove off into the night.
TWENT NINE
As the Volvo drove through the darkness Els tried to keep track of their course. They seemed to be heading South-East, and she noted the few significant landmarks she could see, a neglected wooden fence, fallen down in places, the jagged key-cut of mountainscape, barely visible in the distance, scattered farmhouses.
The driver and his companion said nothing and their silence was maddening to Els. It was torture to leave the girls to the whims of their imaginations. Could anything the men did to them be as cruel as the grim possibilities their minds could summon and obsess over?
Els made a mental list of everything she kept in her clutch to see if there was anything useful. There was not much: a pocketbook with a couple hundred dollars in cash, - surely not enough to persuade the men, and if they knew she had it they would probably just take it from her anyway,- a debit card with less than eight-hundred dollars on it, useless, loose change, tissues, some candy she took from Seve’s house, and her passport. She wouldn’t be finding a way out of this situation inside of her little purse.
Mules:: A Novel Page 16