Ungoverned: A Thriller and Suspense Novel (Ungoverned Series Book 1)

by Shawn Raiford

  Bernice noticed that he had a Mexico City accent. Bernice knew that people from DF, the Federal District, were called Chilangos. This was the only Chilango she had ever met. He was bad, but nicer than the ugly man.

  She grabbed one piece of chicken, and frowned at the fact there wasn’t any salsa. She took a bite, because she was so hungry. It turned out the chicken and fries were good even without salsa.

  “I like this chicken, there are no bones,” the boy said gleefully with a mouth full of chicken nuggets.

  Bernice and the boy played with the toys, which came with their meals. They did their best not to make too much noise, because the ugly man would yell at them, or even hit them.

  They took turns throwing broken pieces of French fries into the other’s mouth.

  Both missed.

  The boy made it once and yelled out, only to receive a smack upside his head by the ugly man. He stopped playing and laid down on the seat next to Bernice.

  God how she hated the ugly man.

  Bernice knew it was wrong, but she prayed to Saint Gabriel to come and chop off the ugly man’s hands so he couldn’t hit anymore children.

  The ugly man tilted his head. “I’m finished. You finished?”

  She glanced up. “Yes.”

  The ugly man turned around to face Bernice. “Listen, we are going inside so you can use the bathroom.”

  “Okay.” Bernice wanted to see the inside, plus she’d been holding it for a long time.

  They got out of the van and Bernice stretched her legs. It felt good to stand up. Although it was cold, she liked being outside, in the sun.

  “You two go ahead of me,” the ugly man said.

  Bernice and the boy walked to the entrance and the ugly man told the boy to open it.

  The ugly man grabbed the door as it was swinging open. Kneeling down, he said, “Go right, the bathrooms are over there.” He pointed across the dining area.

  She peered inside and noted doors with signs. Bernice walked to the door with the universal symbol for female. There were few businesses with the symbols where she lived, but she’d seen it before.

  The boy entered the Boy’s bathroom.

  She moved to enter the Woman’s bathroom but the ugly man stopped her.

  “Wait, I need to check it.” He poked his head in the bathroom. He waved at her. “Go ahead, and remember what I said about making any noise, and if you ask anybody for help, I will hurt your mother.”

  She believed him. “Okay.”

  Bernice entered the bathroom and closed the door.

  She scanned the bathroom and thought it was big. She walked over to the stall and locked it. She put toilet paper on the seat, pulled down her pants and underwear, and sat down.

  A black plastic trashcan was positioned next to the toilet, and she gazed down at the floor. Something small and metallic sparkled in the light. She tried to reach it, but couldn’t.

  Bernice finished and moved the trashcan, only to find a set of keys, and grabbed them. She looked at them as if they were lost treasure.

  What should I do with these keys? If I tell the ugly man about them he will take them away. What if one fit in the lock of the van, and she could open the van door with one of the keys?

  No, Bernice knew that was silly. All doors had their own keys. But she figured she and the boy could use them in a game. As Bernice came out of the stall the bathroom door opened.

  It was the ugly man. “What’s taking so long?” he asked. “Hurry up!”

  “Okay, I’m going to wash my hands.”

  He glared at her with mean eyes. “Hurry up! We’re leaving!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  These Tough Gangster Types

  Houston, Texas

  The cafeteria was located on the basement level, so I took the elevator up one level to the ground floor.

  I walked past the information desk. A uniform was talking to a lady, giving her directions on how to get somewhere within Ben Taub.

  I walked down the hallway and out the door, as I strolled outside, the chilly wind bit my cheeks.

  I walked on a temporary-covered sidewalk. There was remodeling going on, and construction workers and material was everywhere. To protect the pedestrians, the sidewalk had been covered, made of aluminum I-beams, scaffolding holding plywood. Tarps hung over the sides, helping to make a tunnel effect.

  I exited the temporary sidewalk and entered the parking garage. I wasn’t far from my car when I saw Louie, the guy I almost bumped into leaving Bunny’s earlier, he emerged into view, along with Archie.

  Both were big, and beefy. As stout as well-fed rhinos, which only meant strong, not fast. Archie stood a hair over six foot and weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds. Louie weighed less and was a couple of inches shorter.

  My mama was old school. She taught Henry and me to never back down from a fight. A person calls you out, face them. Toe to toe.

  Someone starts a fight, you finish it, or you try. I remember fighting Betty when I first arrived at the Foster Care Home for Children.

  None of the girls picked on me, they knew better. On my first day at the Foster Care place a fat girl pulled one of my braids. I turned around, and stared her in the eyes.

  Betty was tall and husky. But neither attribute helped her. I punched her hard in her nose. Blood spurted out of her mouth and onto her chin. I pulled off one of my shoes, and used it to beat her face.

  A lady pulled me off her, and Betty was saved from my assault. The next day I sat in an office talking to a counselor. The counselor gave me a piece of paper, I read it. The words ‘problem with anger management’ stuck out to me. If that meant ‘whooping somebody’s ass who started it’ then I agreed.

  When I rejoined the girl’s dorm none of girls messed with me. I learned that violence served a purpose.

  Steel-toe boots, with spikes peeping through laces, hugged my feet. Wore my survival jacket also, a special design for those independent-minded ladies like myself who liked to kick ass every now and again.

  Thinking about the situation, I decided, fuck it! I needed to release some tension, and make someone bleed. I quickly changed direction and walked back towards the elevators. I needed to poach these big boys discreetly, to thin Lukas’s hit squad a little. I turned, and glanced behind me. They followed.

  Didn’t waste time thinking about trying the elevator, I went directly to Stairwell A. Stairwell B was on the other side of the elevators. I opened the door and after examining the inside quickly, I knew it would do. I walked up a few stairs, sitting down about halfway between landings. The cold concrete felt like ice to my ass. I reached inside my jacket and unzipped a pocket, as I grabbed my special pair of gloves.

  The door opened, they entered the stairwell like fearless bulldogs.

  Archie stared at me, folding his arms in front of him. He sighed. “Rose, you got to come with us.”

  I stared at them.

  Louie followed me. Damn it, should have paid better attention. “I saw him leave Bunny’s. Where was he hiding?” I put on the first glove.

  “Just outside Bunny’s, waiting for me. I called him right after you left, and told him to follow you.”

  It might have been easy to spot me walking back to my car, because I parked two blocks away. “Not bad Louie.”

  He grinned.

  “Rose, you’re coming with us,” Archie said. “Come on down from there.”

  “Uh, I’m not going anywhere with you losers.” I put the second glove on.

  His eyes met mine. “Yes, you are. Lukas wants to talk to you.” He stuffed his paws in his jacket pockets.

  I glared at Louie. “You know, all I need to do is kill one of you, and the other will go down like an arthritic grandmother.”

  He tossed Archie a glance and laughed. “Bitch don’t make me laugh. You say you just need to kill one of us?” He bent over laughing, then straightening. “Look at you, how you going to do that?”

  I held my tongue.

  The
n he pulled a handgun.

  If I jumped, knee first, I could hit him in the jaw before he got off a shot. I noted Archie’s position, standing next to Louie. Then it appeared: Two birds with one stone.

  I was about to make my move, when Archie spoke up.

  “No! Put it away! Don’t shoot her, Lukas wants to talk to her. We got to take her to him.”

  “Come on, man. I wasn’t going to kill her, just wanted to scare her.”

  Archie gave him a look. “She doesn’t scare.”

  “I’m not going with you Archie and you know it. You should take your boyfriend and leave before you two get hurt.” I didn’t expect them to leave, but my words urged them to stop standing around.

  Louie’s mouth turned into a crooked line. “Bitch, you’re leaving with us.”

  “Why do you insist on calling me a bitch? You just heard him call me Rose. How about I call you Shit Pusher?” I winked at him. “You like that?”

  He turned to Archie. “I can’t kill her, but does Lukas mind me kicking her ass?”

  Archie looked up at me and smiled. “No, he doesn’t.”

  Louie waved me down. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s go.”

  Jutting my chin towards him, I puckered my lips. “Make me Shit Pusher.”

  His face pinked. He didn’t like me insinuating that he was gay, none of these tough gangster types did. Most were homophobic.

  Readying myself, I put my arms in front of me, locked my hands together, and placed my elbows on my knees.

  He skipped the first step and brought his bulk closer to me. I didn’t blink. He stuck out both arms, his meaty hands grabbing the collar on both sides of my jacket. He pulled me up, my elbows and knees separated. He stood two steps below the step I was on.

  My eyes didn’t leave his. “Okay, okay! I’ll go!” Then I dropped my hands to my sides.

  Louie released my jacket collar. He smiled, and turned to his boss. “You see, Archie, she knows who the boss is.”

  As he turned back to face me, I bent my right leg at the knee, crouching slightly. My right arm bent at the elbow, and I balled my right hand into a fist. My fist shot up like a hammer, connecting with Louie’s chin.

  Brass knuckles had been sewn into the knuckles of my gloves.

  A noisy crack echoed in the stairwell. His head shot backwards, and blood spewed from his chin. His eyes shut like a couple of frightened clams, his knees buckled, and his body fell backwards.

  Archie’s eyes lit up, and extended his arms. I cocked my right arm, and jumped forward like that chick in The Matrix movie. Archie gave Louie a welcome hug, catching him under the arms. Both men fell to the floor. Louie landed on top of Archie. Then I landed half a second later on top of Louie. Archie’s face wasn’t obstructed, so I brought my fist down hard onto his forehead.

  “Uhg!”

  Rolling over, I stood up.

  Archie’s forehead had a cut and was bleeding. He rose on his knee, and gazed up, he was dazed, and confused.

  Louie faced me as he lay on the floor. Attempting to blink his way back to reality.

  Archie stood.

  I moved my right leg half a step back, kept my hands at my side, my back straight, my shoulders set back. He balled his hands and brought them up.

  Archie sniffed. “Rose, I understand you’re good at what you do, but let’s face it, hand to hand I beat you.”

  “So how long you and Louie been dating Archie? Hope y’all are practicing safe sex.”

  He lunged at me, wanting to do violence. He led with a right hook.

  My body bent backwards as if I wanted to do the Limbo. Archie missed, almost falling. Standing upright, I cocked my right leg. He adjusted, and stood up at the ready, but not fast enough. I kicked him in the gut.

  Archie doubled over. “Good one Rose, but we both know that all I need is one halfway decent punch to your pretty little face and you’ll go down,” he said, breathing deeply.

  Louie laid on his back, it was as if he were a big baby trying to roll over in his crib. He brought his hand to his mouth, tentatively grabbing his jaw, coming back with red fingers.

  “Hey! That bitch broke my jaw,” he said.

  Archie, his guy on the floor, turned his full attention towards me.

  I angled my body and shoulders perpendicular to Archie’s, making a T.

  He stared at me.

  Uncertainty was in his eyes, a direct result of watching me slice Stan’s neck earlier. Coming up against me made him think of his mortality. Archie may have doubts about taking me, but I knew he wouldn’t back down.

  I faked a low kick and he did what I wanted him to, Archie threw down his right fist. My leg was faster, pulling my foot back wildly, kicking higher and faster above his out-reached, blocking hand.

  The spikes on my boot connected with the side of Archie’s face. His head whipped in the direction my boot directed it. Blood splashed the concrete walls of the stairwell.

  He backed away a couple of paces, almost tripping over the big baby on the floor.

  I stood straight, my right leg positioned just in front of the left. I rested my hands on my hips and puckered my lips. Expected more out a couple of tough guys. “What the hell Archie?”

  His face contorted, and then he came at me like an angry bull, baring his teeth.

  I hit his left temple above the holes that my boot spikes had just made. The force of my punch was not enough to change his direction. His momentum kept his mass coming, and Archie’s body slammed into mine. The crashing force embedded me into the wall. It knocked the wind out of me, and the back of my head smashed against the wall.

  He knelt down, falling face first.

  I had to delay my post-knockout jig, because breathing was difficult. Sliding down the wall, I sat. I didn’t move.

  Staying put, I leaned against the wall trying to catch my breath, but my lungs took a coffee break. If either one of these guys stood, I was done for.

  Calming myself, I forgot about everything, and only concentrated on my breathing. It seemed to take several minutes before I drew my first breath. Then another, and another breath. Finally, I stood up. The next breaths came easier and quicker.

  Both men moved slowly.

  On all fours now, Louie scrutinized a pool of blood on the floor directly under his head.

  I shook my head, as I was still feeling a little woozy. I reached around and touched the back of my head feeling a wet spot.

  I squared myself and took a couple of steps forward. Extending my leg, my foot connected solidly with the side of Louie’s ugly face. His head snapped back, his body rotated, and he fell to the floor, laid out on his back.

  He wouldn’t be waking up for a while. “Good thing he’s already here in the hospital.” Then I glanced down at Archie. He held himself up with his right arm.

  I moved towards the door to exit the stairwell. Archie’s left arm came up, and grabbed my jacket.

  When he didn’t let go, I hit his hand again and again. My glove was covered with blood. His blood. He was a tough son of a bitch. Then he finally let go.

  Straightening my jacket, I stepped away.

  “Get back here,” he said.

  “Got to go boys, y’all be sure to practice safe sex.”

  I moved towards the door and glanced back at them before exiting.

  Archie, on one knee, did his best to fight gravity, and Louie was laid out holding down the floor.

  I smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  New Merchandise

  Rosenberg, Texas

  Javier stood in the doorway, waiting.

  He poured another cup of coffee, waiting for the new merchandise. His cousin, Umberto, was running a bit late.

  Javier didn’t mind him being a little late as long as Umberto showed up with them. He needed a cigarette but wanted to quit. He was no longer a young man anymore, over fifty now, he had to start watching his health. He needed to quit smoking, watch what he ate, and get more exercise.

  Lalo ca
lled him yesterday to tell him they had acquired a boy and a girl.

  Javier paid fifty-five hundred dollars to men like Umberto and Lalo for each brown kid they brought him. Then Javier sold them for at least ten grand, depending how the bidding went. He rarely dealt in other races. White kids still brought the most money, but brought the most attention from police, and local and federal authorities. He would be lucky if he made a couple of thousand from selling a black boy or girl. His customers were mostly gringos sucios, and they liked brown skin.

  Brown was the new white, or the new way to make good money. There wasn’t much attention when brown kids went missing. In this business there were, at times, multiple middlemen. A good business if you didn’t mind selling kids.

  Javier never did mind it. He saw it as making money.

  Then, the dull red van emerged from down the street. Umberto smiled at him as he pulled into the driveway.

  The van appeared average, but the engine was well above average. It had to out run a cop car, and it could.

  He opened the garage and the van came in. The van was dirty and looked bad, but the engine was kept in supreme condition. It had duel gas tanks so it would go from the border to Rosenberg, where Javier lived, without stopping.

  Umberto waved, and opened his door. “Que dice primo?”

  “Nothing, just waiting for my merchandise.”

  Umberto got out of the van.

  “Any problems at the border?”

  “No, our guy at the border looked at our IDs and didn’t even ask us about the kids.”

  Javier nodded. “Que onda, Lalo?”

  “Nada.”

  Lalo had rough edges to his demeanor. Two years in a Mexican prison would do that to any man.

  Javier spent a month in a Reynosa jail before. He would rather die than go back to any jail or prison.

  He couldn’t imagine doing two years in a place like Lalo did. But Lalo’s unique experience helped him to be the man he was today. He would dispose of any evidence, even the merchandise, if law enforcement was nearby. Lalo mentioned he preferred to die than go back to prison, which was nice to hear.