El Paso Under Attack
by
Michael Clary
Copyright © 2011 by Michael Clary
All Rights Reserved.
Editing by Carol Vos, Chris Moran, and Gary Tillston
Cover art by Xavier Guerra
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Chapter 1
Jaxon
I became nervous the moment he walked into the room. This was going to be the biggest interview of my career. Every reporter in the country would kill to be in my position, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to stop my hands from shaking. He has wider shoulders than I thought he would, but he doesn’t look like some sort of superman. More like a regular guy. Handsome…certainly, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person that would be interested in saving lives. He looks more like the guy your mother has always warned you to stay away from. Still, there’s an aura of power that surrounds him. Or maybe not, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m star struck at being in the same room as a real honest to God hero.
Right now, this man is much more popular than any movie star or musician. He’s also earned his fame the hard way. I can’t stop thinking about that famous fifteen minutes of footage as I look at him. I can’t stop thinking about the things he was able to do. For a moment, I’m speechless. Then he offers me his hand and he gives me a lopsided smile.
My name’s Jaxon, where would you like to start?
“Um…can I ask what finally made you agree to meet with me?”
I guess it’s about time that people know what really happened in the beginning of my… career. All they ever seem to hear about is me getting into some kind of trouble. Thought it might explain some things if I agreed to let you tell my story. I’ve also been thinking about archiving our…situations. It might be helpful in the future. This is probably the easiest way to do it. So, by all means, fire away.
“How about the day it began?”
Alright, the day it began. I can do that. It was a Sunday I think, the beginning of summer. It was early morning and the sun was shining brightly. I remember this quite clearly because I stopped on top of Trans Mountain to check out the view.
I was coming back from Ruidoso where my parents live. I had taken the bike out over the weekend, because it had been raining pretty hard lately and I wasn’t able to ride much.
I own a Harley Davidson Super-glide. I love it. Black, chrome, drag bars, loud pipes, it’s the bike I’ve always wanted. I can’t explain in words the freedom that comes from riding a motorcycle. It’s something that every person needs to experience for themselves.
I just remember cruising over the mountain with music, that wasn’t really playing, pounding in my head. I was in heaven. Life was perfect. At least, that’s the kind of feeling I get when I ride. Maybe it’s different for everybody, but that’s the feeling that belongs to me. The sound of the engine and the almost violent response of the throttle…man, there’s nothing like it in the world. As soon as I’m off the bike…well, that’s a different story, at least around this time of year.
The morning air was getting humid. It was going to be bad today. My home, along with most of the other homes in the Southwest was cooled by evaporative air. This kind of air conditioning worked like crap when it was humid and let me tell ya…El Paso summers are always humid. So, during the time of year that you needed your air-conditioning the most…it doesn’t work worth a damn. Whatever, there are certainly worse things in the world than faulty air conditioning, trust me…I’m an expert on that.
Still, El Paso is one of the best places to live in my opinion. I love the Southwest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very much the outdoors type and I love my trips into the woods, but there’s something about living in the desert. Something about El Paso that always brings me back. Maybe it the culture, maybe it’s the city itself.
El Paso just has everything that I could possibly want. It’s too small to be a big busy city, and way too large to have anything near a small town atmosphere. The population is also pretty damn big, Five hundred thousand or somewhere around there I believe. Lots of people…maybe that’s why everything spread so fast…at least, that’s my guess.
‘Why everything spread so fast.’ I know exactly what he’s referring to. He doesn’t have to spell it out for me.
Anyway, yeah…I love the place. I grew up there. It’s just that this time of year always kind of created a sort of melancholy ache inside of me. It wasn’t the rain. Living in the desert, rain was pretty scarce most times of the year except for about three months in the summer. During those three months I actually enjoyed the wetness. It was a release from the humidity, if only temporarily.
I tend to think that my melancholy was caused more by my lack of direction, but why it only hit me in the summer was far beyond my scope of knowledge.
I guess I always expected something great for myself. I always wanted something more than what I had. I tried my hand at many different things, but so far nothing had panned out for me. I was almost in my mid-thirties and I just didn’t know where to turn.
I was nowhere near lazy, but the idea of doing some sort of office job was just too offensive for my tastes. I simply wasn’t cut out for one of those nine to five lifestyles. I had friends that went that route and they were always miserable. Besides, the last boss I had almost drove me to the point of throwing his condescending ass out of a window.
Yeah… I was looking for something. I just didn’t know what it was.
At the time, I was teaching cage fighting on the Northeast side of town. I enjoyed it. It kept me in shape and it seemed kinda right. It just wasn’t enough. The money wasn’t great and I just knew it wouldn’t be long before I started searching for something new and different. That’s how life was back in those days. I continually searched out and wished for a way to leave my mark on the world. I just never knew that I was wishing on a monkey’s paw.
He laughs at this. It isn’t a nice laugh. It’s a very cynical laugh as if he himself caused all the trouble that would soon be crashing its way into his life. Some people would bask in the fame that surrounds him. Yet, Jaxon seems to wish that he could go back to the life that he used to be somewhat unsatisfied with.
I was anticipating the return of my familiar melancholy ache as I rumbled to a stop at the top of the mountain and took in the view. I’d seen it a million times before, but this time…and don’t ask me why…it was different. There was something in the air. It took a few moments to be sure, but something was definitely different. I wasn’t the only one that had pulled over; fifteen other people were also absorbing the view. The sun was shining and the West side of El Paso was opened up and stretched out before me. The city was the same as always, but my heavy heart and melancholy feelings had vanished. Change was coming. That’s all I knew. I didn’t question it. I just enjoyed the feeling.
It felt like I might be able to make something out of myself very soon. It felt positive. It felt like I would soon find my place in the world, but I had no idea what had caused this change inside of me.
I sat there for about twenty minutes just taking it all in.
The loud yawn that exploded from my mouth told me that I was tired before I even felt the need for sleep. Once I noticed the yawn however, I realized just how exhausted I was. It wasn’t a big deal; I was about ten minutes away from my house which was in the Upper Valley. This is about as far west as you can go in El Paso. Any farther than the Upper Valley and you’re crossing into New Mexico.
I hit the ignition, rumbled the engine and put my half helmet back on as the other people watched me. I always seem to enjoy being the center of attention when I’m on my bike and
the loud growl of the engine makes me feel like Fonzie. I rode the rest of the way home slowly just to enjoy the ride.
At home, I pulled the bike into the garage; I was too tired to wash it. I called out for my wife…no answer…she had probably taken her kids over to her family’s house which was over on the East side of town, (pretty far away) so she probably wouldn’t be back until much later in the evening.
Actually, I should explain this. It’s real simple. El Paso is divided into four parts, East side, West side, Northeast and Downtown. Downtown is the city area, it’s between the West side and the East side. The East side is on the other side of town from the West side. The Northeast is easiest to get to by going over Trans Mountain, it’s a little ways north of the East side.
I looked around the house to see if my nephew Dudley was awake, (he stays with us over the summers) but he hadn’t managed to crawl out of his bed just yet. This wasn’t a surprise; he normally wakes up well into the afternoon and then hogs the computer for the rest of the day. The kid was twenty-two years old and though he was only about one hundred and fifty pounds, he was in excellent shape from all the weight lifting he did when he wasn’t acting like a computer nerd.
Alright, it was time for a hot and relaxing shower. Then it was off to bed. I guess it might be rather interesting that I remember all of these little details, but then again, it was the last time in my life that I was able to experience any kind of normality.
I woke up around 2:00 in the afternoon with my pit bull Merrick lying on top of me. She’s a great dog and I consider her a member of the family. She’s black with a white splotch on her chest and has a great attitude with people. Kind of like a child to me… and don’t ever let people tell you that pit bulls are dangerous. They are great dogs.
I’d have to take his word for it. The dog looked somewhat intimidating to me. I’d forgotten to mention her earlier, but she came into the room right behind Jaxon. Every now and then she paws at his leg for attention and glares over at me when she receives it.
I crawled out of bed still feeling good when I heard what sounded like screaming in the distance. I guess in every neighborhood you hear the odd noise now and again, so the scream itself didn’t really set of any alarm bells or hold my attention. I figured that it was probably just some neighborhood kids playing a game.
Then I realized that the scream wasn’t stopping.
I went through the front door with Merrick at my side and outside onto the front patio. I was standing in the courtyard looking up and down the street trying to find out where the screaming was coming from. It sounded like it was from inside one of the many houses on the block.
I heard the sound of traffic in the distance. Screeching tires, blaring horns and crunching bumpers, yet the chaos was far away and disconnected. Still, I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know how wrong. I couldn’t focus past those violent screams. It was a woman’s voice, shrill and in terror. And then...
The screaming stopped. I didn’t like the way it just shut off like that. It was like someone just clicked a light switch…that sudden. Dudley was suddenly behind me rubbing his eyes.
“What the hell was that?”
“No idea.” I replied and immediately changed the subject. “Do you happen to know where my wife is?”
“Just woke up,” said Dudley with a yawn. “I have no idea.”
Now, even the traffic noises began to quiet down. Somewhere above us, I heard the sound of a helicopter. I didn’t see the helicopter; I just heard the sound of one as it moved farther and farther away. My street had grown way to quiet. There should be some sort of noise. Where were the loud, hyperactive kids? Where were the teenagers with their motorcycles that constantly ran up and down the road?
No sound at all.
Not even a breeze.
The neighbor from across the street suddenly stumbled out of his front door.
He walked, tripped over his own feet and then fell. He was wearing a light colored shirt and the front of this shirt was stained in red. In a moment, I realized that it was blood and there was a lot of it. Like someone took a ketchup bottle and emptied it all over him. His mouth was also stained red.
He rose from his hands and knees quickly. Dudley and I were frozen solid. All we could do was watch him flounder with horrified expressions on our faces.
The man obviously needed help, but something was weird about the way he was moving and that alone made me hesitate.
“Maybe we should call 911,” said Dudley.
It took me awhile to answer, but I finally snapped just a little bit out of it and tried to respond. “I think......”
That was all that came out. My neighbor was staring at us.
He screamed, or maybe it was a roar. I don’t know. If you’ve ever heard the sound, all you can really say is that it’s inhuman.
I know exactly what he’s talking about. I hate the sound of those all too familiar screams. I’m sure everyone does. Even now, if I have the misfortune of hearing it on the radio or in a news broadcast during the day, I’m not able to sleep in the evening.
The neighbor charged us, and when I say charged, that’s exactly what I mean. Just like a bull, head down and full speed ahead. He ran across the street, past our drive way and head first into the metal front gate of our patio.
Both Dudley and I fell backwards in shock. We had been standing right behind the gate and looking through the bars when my neighbor ran at us. The gate bent and warped, but it held. My neighbor went down with a grunt, paused and stood right back up.
He blared out another bone chilling scream and rammed the gate once again. His head and face collided with the metal bars. His nose shattered on impact and miraculously, he gave forth no reaction to what should have been some intense pain. Instead, he began banging away with his fists on the metal barrier that stood between us.
He periodically stopped pounding the bars in an attempt to reach us through the open spaces with his clawing hands. He was blaring out that guttural filth of a scream and banging and screaming and reaching…
Dudley and I were frozen once again. Our faces were petrified into a terrible expression of horror as this lunatic went crazy on our gate.
Then, there was a woman with him. We never even saw her approach. It was if she had appeared out of thin air. She made the same noises. She made the same actions. Now there were two of them trying to get at us through the bars.
Though bent from the initial charge, the metal gate was holding up rather well. Unfortunately, the walls on either side of it were made of stucco and I could see that the bolts holding the gates hinges were beginning to rip free from the flimsy material. In no time at all, they would be through the barrier and on top of us.
Over maniacal screaming I heard Dudley.
“Look at her neck.”
I looked and I saw what I really truly wished I hadn’t just seen. Most of her throat had been torn out. All that remained was a large jagged gash with hanging pieces of skin. Every time she screamed at us, flecks of blood would spray out into the air.
I couldn’t stop watching the little pieces of skin around the gash flop around as she reached between the bars to grab and claw in our direction.
“What the fuck?” said Dudley.
“Let’s call the cops.” I replied.
I didn’t notice the rampant barking that was coming from Merrick until she launched herself at my neighbors.
If I wasn’t convinced that things were seriously fucked up before, I was certainly convinced now. At first, Merrick bit at the flailing arms. Each bite instantly left vicious, dripping wounds of dark blood, but my neighbors didn’t bother to pull their arms away from her attack. They just kept on screaming and reaching for us through the bars.
Then, Merrick latched herself onto the man’s forearm. Biting deeply, she shook her head from side to side creating a terrible gash and crunching the bone with her efforts. Nothing, there still no response from the man.
“Yeah,” said Dudle
y. “Let’s call the cops.”
We backed up rapidly to the front door. Merrick instantly followed us. I thought this odd in a distant sort of way. Normally, if something caught her attention she was quite difficult to get back into the house. I ran to our home phone and tried to dial 911. The line was dead.
“Use your cell phone.” I told Dudley. “This one’s not working.”
The 911 operator picked up her end of the line after what seemed to me, a long pause. I didn’t hear what was said, because at that moment the neighbors finally broke through my front gate. I heard the cracking of stucco and the twisting of metal from beyond the walls of my home.
Seconds later, they were banging on my front door. I ran forward, jumped over Merrick, and slid the deadbolt home. It was a heavy wooden door. It should hold… for awhile at least. Dudley was off the phone and not looking happy.
“The operator said that it’s happening all over town. She said that we should lock ourselves inside the house and barricade all the windows.”
“What about the cops?” I asked. “Are they coming?”
“Not anytime soon.”
I looked around the house. From where I was standing in the living room, I could see the entire layout. We were in a very bad position. The place was filled with windows and sliding glass doors.
We had no protection. We had nothing that could possibly come even close to barricading all the glass.
Dudley must have realized the same thing. He was staring over at me with the same worried expression that I must have been wearing on my own face.
“They’re gonna get in here aren’t they?”
I didn’t answer him. I was just now realizing that my wife was out there somewhere and I didn’t know if she was safe or not.
I took the stairs to my bedroom two at a time. Merrick was right next to me. I grabbed my cell phone from the night stand and called her number. She didn’t answer. I slapped the phone shut and called again. She still didn’t answer.
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