Mules:: A Novel

by Jarred Martin

  The butch woman stood over the two men that had been shot fighting. She recognized one of them as the man who had degraded her by exposing himself and pissing on her. He had been shot high in the chest and in his throat. He was still alive, struggling to find breath through the hole torn through his neck. Air bubbled up in the blood as he tried to exhale. He was conscious and his eyes rolled to look up at her as she stood over him. His weapon had fallen beside him on the ground and she picked it up, looking for a moment over to the figure in black. If it objected to what she was doing, it did not register through the gas mask. She turned back to the dying man and pointed the rifle down at him.

  “We’ve seen what your little dick can do, you motherfucker. Now it’s my turn to show you what I can do to it.”

  His eyes widened in shock as she leveled the barrel at his crotch and squeezed the trigger.

  She held it down until the magazine was empty, shredding the insides of his thighs and groin into a wet red pulp.

  And when it was done, when the bark of machine gun fire had stopped, she threw the weapon away and spit on his corpse.

  The small black figure nodded and reached up to take the mask off from around its face.

  If they were surprised by the long brown hair beneath, and the young, bleak face revealed, they were beyond displaying it.

  And then the young, deadly woman spoke.

  “There are two vehicles here.” There were three parked alongside the warehouse, the rides of the thugs, two SUVs and a pickup, but one of the SUVs had been rendered inoperable by the wild gunfire, tires flat on one side and eaten through with bullet holes. “You’ll have to pile up, but you’ll fit. The keys are inside, and I have a map of the area.” She handed it to one of the women. “If you do not linger, you will be safe. If you go now and don’t look back, you will live. If you think there is still something here for you, if you choose to pursue it, I cannot guarantee your safety. But do what you must, you’re free now.”

  As the women crowded into the SUV and the back of the pickup, one stayed behind.

  “Excuse me.” Susan said to the young woman who had saved her. She turned from watching the trucks and looked at her. “I just wanted to say. . .”

  “Don’t,” said Els. “You don’t owe me anything. Just go.”

  “I will. But,” she paused, looking off into the distance before meeting Els’ gaze. “I had a friend, we all did. They we taken. Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes,” said Els.

  “Will you help them like you helped us?”

  “I’ll try. If your friend is still alive, I’ll do all I can to make sure you see her again.”

  “Thank you. Make them pay. Make the fucking pigs pay for what they’ve done to us.”

  “I will,” said Els.

  She watched the woman climb into the bed of the pickup and then they were gone. The truck followed the SUV and Els watched them drive away until they disappeared in a haze of dust.

  FIFTY FIVE

  Myles Wade had not killed himself, though the thought that he could go anytime like a poorly-wired electrical circuit was comforting to him. He was searching for a sign of some sort. He did not see it on the uphill drive to the makeshift HQ in Colzorona, but he remained ever vigilant.

  The last several weeks had been a blur of flesh and scalpels as he continued his work, slicing through women like a butcher on an assembly line. He knew that as long as he lived, the entirety of his existence would only contribute to the agony and torture of innocent people. And the only way to end that would be to end himself. It was an odd thing to continue serving the cartel, knowing that if he refused they would kill him, but also knowing that he would be the one to stop himself. It was only his own cowardice that kept him alive.

  He stopped his car outside the gates and waited as the huge bald one called Primo fumbled with the lock to let him in.

  The driveway was lined with trucks and he parked at the rear. Something different was happening tonight.

  One of the nameless, interchangeable thugs met him at the front door.

  “You’re late.” he said.

  Wade gave him a bored look and said, “I didn’t know anyone was waiting for me. I hope you don’t dock my pay.”

  The thug sneered at him and led him through the house, out the sliding glass door and into the backyard.

  There was a large assemblage of thirty or forty young Mexican men, a majority of the cartel if Wade had to guess. They stood around, waiting for something. He hoped the one that let him in had been wrong. If they were waiting for him he did not know why.

  He recognized the thug standing in front, facing the crowd. It was one of the higher-ranking ones who called himself Gusano. Behind him was Leon’s old pet and mascot, the lion. It was in its cage, pacing, obviously upset by the crowd.

  Gusano clocked the white man as he found his place at the rear, and he began to speak.

  “I think we’re all here, so we should get started. I hope this impromptu meeting has not disrupted anyone’s schedule too much, but our CEO has requested to speak to you all. There are issues that need to be addressed immediately, so, without further adieu, please welcome, my boss and yours, Calisto!”

  Calisto came to the front of the crowd to a timid smattering of applause. He looked pensive, carrying an enormous cut of steak in one hand.

  He did not acknowledge the gathering, instead he made a show of sliding the raw steak through the bars of the cage, dangling it in his hand. The lion sniffed it and he dropped it in front of him. The crowd watched the lion lay down and grip the steak between its forepaws and tear into it.

  Calisto turned to face the crowd. “By now you’ve all heard the rumors. It is with a heavy heart that I have to tell you they are true. Earlier today one of our operations was attacked by nameless cowards. Five of our best employees and comrades were murdered in cold blood and a substantial amount of property was liberated. I’m sorry to say that our property was unable to be recovered. We have not yet learned the identities of the attackers, but we have launched an investigation and they will be found, and they will be dealt with most harshly, I can assure you.

  “Perhaps some of you are afraid. I can sympathize, gentleman. I really can. After all, we are being targeted by a powerful unknown force. We don’t know if it’s the Feds, another cartel, mercenaries, a citizen rebellion, or something entirely different. That makes a strong case for fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of death! And if any one of you has fear, I beg you, leave this place. Go on,” he urged, looking over the sea of faces.

  “I have no need for fear. I have no need for the cowardice fears inspires in men. I ask you again to leave if it is inside you.”

  He paused, watching the crowd. None of them were stupid enough to leave. They each knew that their career path was for life.

  “Very well,” said Calisto. He paused again, craning his neck, letting his gaze meet the eyes of as many of the men as he could. “When I look at our numbers, I see that we a few. Today we are five less.” He spread the fingers of one hand apart and counted them. “Five. Five able-bodied men. Five of our friends are dead. Well, they can have them. They wanted those men, and they can have them. We are small by design, gentlemen. It is because we are elite that we don’t need the numbers that others have. Some may see this is a weakness. Some may see the loss of five men as a setback. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t. This is nothing short of an opportunity to prove to those who would know that we are few, but we are fierce. I expect each of you to pay back the deaths of those five men twelve-fold. I expect blood and lead, and fire. And I know you all are capable of providing it.”

  He pointed to a random thug in the crowd. “You there. Tell me, are you a rich man?”

  “Yes,” the man replied.

  “And who made you rich?”

  “Calisto,” the man answered.

  “And will you stand by and let some unseen hand take the money from your pocket?”

  “No sir!”
r />   “And what will you do?”

  “I will kill! Kill for Calisto!”

  Calisto nodded, satisfied. “Very good. Gentlemen, I would like you to know that management has not decided to take this lying down. There will be retribution. There will be a display that brings attention to us. And we will let the world know that we will not be fucked with!”

  Cheers from the crowd.

  When they had calmed a moment later, Calisto produced a plastic grocery bag that had been at his feet. “I have something for you all. Something to let you know how much you are valued. You are all important to our cause, and without any individual here we could not have accomplished so much. And the future of the corporation lies in you. We will surpass all. We will conquer all. If there is something to be had, it will be ours!”

  He pulled apart the top of the plastic bag and showed the men the glittering gold it held: three-and-a-half-dozen, clearly fake, Rolexes, most of which had never run and never would.

  “These are for you. They are the genuine article, gentlemen. There is over half a million dollars in merchandise here, and I give it to you willingly. It is yours because you deserve it. Take it and know your value. And don’t forget, I want to see all of you here every night to report to me until we figure this problem out, good night.”

  He shoved the plastic bag into Gusano’s hands. “See that these are distributed, and make sure they don’t fucking kill each other over them. I don’t need any more dead soldiers.”

  “Yes sir.”

  As the men collected their bonuses with sparks of greed in their eyes, Calisto made his way through the throng and found Wade.

  “I’m glad I could get to you before you left.”

  Wade turned to him. “A very inspiring speech, Capitan. It takes a great man to buy the bloodlust of so many all at once like that.”

  Calisto gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. “For you,” he said pulling one of the watches from his coat pocket.

  Wade shrugged and took it, putting it in his pocket without looking at it. “Thanks. You know, in the U.S. they give gold watches at retirement. More wary employees might be concerned for their future.”

  “This business often lacks the luxury or retirement. But you already know that.”

  “That’s right. We both know these men have no future.”

  “What about you, Doctor? How far in the future can you see?”

  Wade smiled, “It’s more like looking over the edge of a cliff.”

  “You’re sounding melancholy. I thought surgeons were supposed to be a little more arrogant than that. God complexes. Maybe the job is getting to you?”

  “Maybe I’m not really a surgeon. Maybe I’m more like the guy at the carving station at a buffet. You tell me how you want your prime rib cut, and I slice and serve it to you.”

  “Well, you can hang up the butcher knife. For now at least. I’m shutting the restaurant down while we restock. Maybe a little time off will do you some good.”

  “I won’t know what to do with myself.” Wade paused for a moment while he thought this over. “But the girls in there,” he motioned toward the house, more than a dozen women inside, imprisoned in a single room.

  “They’re fucking useless to me now that their counterparts are out of our control. It’s too risky.”

  “Two of them already have the implants in them. What about them?”

  “They’ve already been in contact with whatever companions we’ve abducted. They don’t know that they’ve absconded.”

  “I’m sure hatchetface will be delighted to know that he still has a job.”

  “If you’re referring to Mr. Spears, he would be happy to know anything. He’s dead. He was murdered this morning. Most likely by the same people that killed our men. In fact, I’d bet everything I own on it.”

  Wade was silent.

  “Does this worry you, Doctor? Do you feel crosshairs at your back?”

  “I’m less worried than you’d think. About the girls, though. You’re just going to let them go?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I see. No easy outs in this game are there, Calisto?”

  “There’s that clinical detachment I’ve heard about. No, the outs aren’t easy. They seldom are. Goodbye, Doctor. I’ll call you when I need you.”

  Wade turned and began to walk away. Calisto called out to him, “And Doctor, if you don’t answer when I call, I’ll assume you’re dead. And if you’re not, you soon will be.”

  Wade gave him a mock salute with two fingers. “No easy outs, Capitan.” He walked back through the house and left out the front door, found his car and turned it around and drove down the hill.

  He was still thinking about the conversation when he crossed the threshold into his own darkened home.

  No easy outs. That’s good. That’s real good. They aren’t easy are they? Christ no. Was that the sign? Was that the go-ahead to go ahead and end it? No easy outs. Did I say that? Did he say it? Does it matter? I guess not.

  He could find nothing for liquor but empty glass bottles, but in the bathroom he had a large bottle of Listerine. He poured himself a glass and sat down in his recliner. He sipped the stuff. It wasn’t bad. He’d certainly had worse mezcal.

  On the coffee table in front of him sat a loaded .9 millimeter pistol that he had been toying with recently, feeling its weight, tasting the cold oil when he put the barrel in his mouth and imagined pulling the trigger, his brains flying out the back of his head in bloody chunks and pieces of skull, the recoil smashing his teeth and ripping apart the roof of his mouth. He thought the polite thing to do would be to wrap a towel or something around his head. Help with the cleanup. But he realized his body would likely not be discovered until it was well on its way to becoming a liquefied stain on his chair. Not really doing anyone any favors there.

  He drained the glass of Listerine and put the gun in his newly-freshened mouth.

  And then from the darkness across the room he heard the unmistakable click of a hammer falling back on a handgun.

  “Drop it,” said a man’s voice. He stepped out of the shadows, a sick-looking Mexican man inexplicably adorned with sunglasses indoors and at night. There was a fucked-up white pit bull at his side.

  Wade took the gun out of his mouth. “You do realize how redundant it is to point a gun at a man who’s about to shoot himself, don’t you?”

  The man continued to hold the gun on him. “Maybe it is. But you’re still alive, and as far as I know, putting a couple of bullets in your kneecaps ain’t fatal. Are you curious to see what that feels like before you die? Let me know.”

  Wade considered this for a moment and put the gun down on the table in front of him.

  “Very good, Doctor. I can see you’re real anxious to get to the end. It’s a shame you couldn’t have evolved a conscience earlier in life, it wouldn’t have to come to this.”

  “You said it. I got a fucking conscience that could sink an oil tanker. So, as you can see, I’ve obviously got a lot on my mind and I’m thinking about adding a bullet to it. Forgive me if we skip the introductions and I just ask you what you want.”

  “I want you to do what you do best. I need a surgeon.”

  Wade snorted, feeling the effects of the Listerine. “Whatever you say, pal, but I think you’d look awfully silly with a pair of fake tits.”

  “Cute, but it’s not for me.”

  “Oh yeah? You got a flat-chested girlfriend I can’t see?”

  “No, it’s for me.” Els stepped out of the shadows and Wade’s jaw dropped.

  “Elizabeth! You’re alive! I. . . I didn’t know. I thought they killed you in Texas. I thought you were dead.”

  “Not quite. Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to cut me open again.”

  Wade stared at her in disbelief.

  “And I need you to do one other thing. . .”

  FIFTY SIX

 
Els came back from dreamless slumber like a limp body through a car windshield. She could almost feel a palpable impact as her eyes slowly opened. Everything came rushing back at once. The familiar throb in her chest, the sick dizziness, disorientation.

  The room was dark and she could only see in shades of black and gray, punctuated by strobes of red as the pain flared. She recognized her surroundings immediately, Seve’s villa, in an upstairs bedroom. The sheets were clean and soft. She had been here before, had slept in this room weeks ago when the world was less ugly.

  Trying not to move her body too much, she twisted her neck to see the bedroom floor. The box was lying on the carpet in front of the closet. Satisfied, she let the back of her head sink into the pillow.

  “Hello, Neesha.” She said, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we could be together again. I’m sorry I had to leave you for the past few days. I won’t do it again, I promise. We’re going to stay together until I can see you for real. I wonder what it’s like to be dead. Where are you?”

  A voice from the box answered her. It’s dark, I don’t think it has an end to it. I’m cold and shivering. I wish you were here to keep me warm. You protect me.

  “I will be. I’ll find you if I get there.”

  Do you promise?

  “I promise. Neesha, is it scary?”

  Yes, at first. And then it’s not really like anything.

  “That sounds nice,” Els half-muttered as she closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again some indeterminate time later, Seve was standing over her.

  “You’re awake.” he said.

  Els smiled and nodded her head.

  “That’s good. I heard you talking this morning. Do you remember what you were saying?”

  “I was? I don’t remember.” She turned to glance at the box on the floor.

  “Well, it probably doesn’t matter anyway. All the drugs the doctor gave you, it’s amazing I can even understand you now.” He went to the side table and rummaged through the various prescription bottles and bandages. “Speaking of dope, he also gave me this,” Seve held up a syringe. “Don’t try to move for a second. This will help with the pain, and then you can get up, okay?”