Recognition slammed into Craig.
It was Shaun.
“Shaun!” Craig broke away from his group and ran to his brother. Shaun slowly looked up at the call of his name, squinting his eyes from the sunlight.
Craig took one look at his brother and couldn’t believe what he saw. Shaun was a shadow of his former self. He was filthy, pale, and scarcely recognizable from the energetic young man he used to be. He was pitifully thin, and his skin was showing the gray, wooden flesh tone common to addiction. Craig could see dozens of needle scars running the length of both his forearms.
But at that moment, Craig didn’t care about any of that. He was only grateful he’d found his brother at last and that Shaun was still alive. Shaun said nothing at first, but simply stared quizzically at Craig.
Craig kneeled down to his brother. “Shaun,” he repeated, shaking him lightly. “Hey, mate. It’s me, Craig.”
A flash of recognition crossed his face. He finally understood.
“Yeah, Craig,” he said in a slow, faraway voice.
“God, what have they done to you?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Shaun cracked weakly, “but it feels good.” He paused for a moment. “Say, what time is it? Did I miss the whole day again?”
Craig looked at him blankly. “What?”
“They just gave me the works. Figures you’d be late for the party!”
Craig looked at him curiously. Shaun’s response made no sense. Then it hit him with sickening certainty. Shaun was flying again, floating in another world. His mind’s message patterns were completely, and probably permanently, altered. The brother that he knew no longer existed. His personality was gone, destroyed by the drug that now took up residence in his body. He was a zombie, dominated by the heroin. His eyes, once sparkling, were glassy and lifeless.
Craig shook him again, harder this time.
“Shaun, listen to me,” he said, almost urgently. “You’re going to be all right. I’m going to get you out of this mess, I swear it!”
“It’s okay, pal,” Shaun said, then looked at Craig directly, as if he were struggling to come out of his drugged world to concentrate on the words he was saying. “Listen to me. It’s Taylor. She’s—”
Just then two of the guards came over and roughly pulled Craig to his feet. They pushed him toward the fields amidst orders in terse Spanish. He tried to stop them, to go back to Shaun, but it was impossible. By the time he looked back to the truck scarcely a minute later, Shaun was gone.
The work resumed in the fields as usual, but Craig was too emotionally tense to concentrate. He scanned the area for a glimpse of his brother whenever he could steal a moment without getting caught, but Shaun was nowhere in sight. Craig couldn’t erase from his mind what Shaun looked like, and the guilt riddled him inside, knowing he was the cause of Shaun’s situation. But his mind was also active with questions about what Shaun said. How did Taylor enter the picture, and what was Shaun trying to tell him about her?
A few hours later Craig and the others became aware of a disturbance taking place about a hundred yards away. Three guards were gathered around someone, laughing obnoxiously and pushing around their prey. He caught a glimpse of their victim, and his blood froze.
It was Shaun.
Their eyes met over the distance. “Craig!” Shaun called to him, panic-stricken.
Craig started toward them when Shaun managed to break free. He began running to Craig, calling to him, reaching out for his brother to somehow protect him across the field.
One of the guards reacted instantly to Shaun’s retreating figure. Craig watched in horror as the guard poised his assault rifle, took aim at Shaun, and squeezed the trigger. A short burst of gunfire filled the air. Then Shaun staggered in the field and sank.
“Shaun!” Craig took off through the field, mowing down poppies as he tore through them toward his brother. After what seemed like an eternity, he came upon Shaun lying still on his back, gasping erratically as his body struggled for air. His shirt stuck to him like a second skin, soaked with fresh blood. He had been hit at least a half dozen times.
Craig bent down to cradle his brother in his arms.
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want—I don’t—” Shaun repeated softly, his breathing ragged.
“Shaun,” Craig moaned softly. “Oh, God, no, no!” He knew what was happening. He could feel Shaun’s blood coursing like a river from his back onto Craig’s shirtsleeves. The front of his shirt had soaked completely red. His lips already had a bluish tint to them.
Shaun’s eyes came slowly to Craig. His eyes silently conveyed to him what was happening.
“No!” Craig cried, although deep in his heart he knew it to be true. His brother was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. He simply didn’t want to face it, hoping his futile cries to the heavens would somehow stop the inevitable.
He held him tight. “Shaun, listen. You’re going to be all right, kidda,” Craig encouraged quickly. “I’m going to get you fixed up. I’m going to get you out of here, but you’ve got to hang on!”
Shaun shook his head slightly. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Listen to me. Craig, please, man!”
“No, no, no!” Craig implored. “Shaun, please, you’re going to be all right!”
“Shhh,” Shaun said, then took a deep breath. “Taylor—she’s in that house.”
The news hit Craig like a blow. His eyes widened. “What?”
Shaun coughed painfully, choking on the blood that was pouring into his lungs. He spoke quickly. “I heard her—I heard—them—heard them talking to her. She’s here, looking for us. Craig, get her—get her out of there now!”
He took another heavy breath, and his words began to falter. He was weakening even more. “She came to find us. Say you—say you’ll get her out of there!”
“We can get her together,” Craig offered quickly, hanging on to every precious moment, hoping for a miracle. “We’ll get you fixed up, and we can escape together and find her!”
“No,” Shaun’s voice had now faded to an urgent whisper. “Do it, man! Find her!”
“I will,” Craig relented. “I’ll find her.”
Shaun nodded slightly. His body relaxed, and his eyes began to cloud over.
“No, Shaun!” Craig’s voice cracked. “Hang on, don’t give up. God, don’t leave me!”
Craig felt Shaun’s body shake slightly. He reached up and weakly took Craig’s hand as he looked at him for the last time. Then Craig felt Shaun’s breathing cease. His hand jerked spasmodically in Craig’s, then went still. His eyes became fixed into a blank stare.
At that moment, Craig felt as if a part of his very being had just been stripped away from him.
Shaun was dead.
~ ~ ~
Later, Craig lay wide-awake in his bunk. The midnight sky held millions of bright stars, their myriad of tiny lights enabling him to see the dark shapes of the others sleeping around him. The field house was quiet now. In a few hours, the activity would begin again, as usual, but that didn’t matter to him anymore.
In the darkness, alone with his thoughts, he expelled his silent outpourings of grief. He was in such a depth of despair and shock, he couldn’t even shed tears. He mourned for Shaun deep in his soul, not only as his brother, but as a young, vibrant young man, innocent of the frightful events that had taken place, yet viciously struck down in the prime of his life for no good reason. His pain at that moment was unbearable.
Earlier, he had watched numbly while Shaun was callously pulled from his arms. The body was casually tossed onto a truck and taken away, perhaps to an unmarked grave, but more likely thrown into some open rock crevasse in the jagged mountainside. Craig’s shirt was still damp and crimson, stained from his brother’s blood, the only remaining eviden
ce of Shaun’s existence Craig had.
How, when everything was going so well for both himself and the band, could things have gone so catastrophically wrong in such a short time? To see a madman effectively ruin his life and to have his brother die in his arms was almost more than he could stand.
Though he was emotionally exhausted from grief, the hours wore on, and eventually his grief turned to white-hot rage. He was angry and growing more blindly so as the minutes passed. He had to find Robert Cabrera—find him and kill him!
The more he thought about his situation, however, the more the solution became clear. He knew what he had to do.
Escape.
There was no other alternative. He didn’t know what would happen to him now. With Shaun dead, there was nothing to keep Craig’s loyalty to the Organization. He could be done away with at a moment’s notice.
Even if he did manage to win back Cabrera’s trust and find himself back in the action, what would become of his mind, his sanity? He could well become as savage and mad as the rest of Cabrera’s army of traffickers. He would be consumed with so much suspicion and hatred for others that killing would become second nature to him. That trait had already started to show itself back in London and even here in captivity. It wouldn’t be long before his personality would be permanently warped.
And could he stand up emotionally to more of what he’d already witnessed? Under Cabrera’s control, he’d seen death, bloodshed, and the ruthless horrors that were usually only played out in B-grade movies. He didn’t know if he could take any more of the appalling atrocities that were commonplace in Cabrera’s world.
Most importantly, he considered Taylor. What would happen to her? He loved her with all his being, and his heart ached to be with her again. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again, or even worse, knowing that Cabrera would probably bleed her for everything he could, then get rid of her. Shaun was right. He had to get her away from Cabrera’s clutches before she, too, became another victim.
It all came down to that final decision which began to stick in Craig’s mind with rigid resolve.
He had to escape, or at least try. If not, how would he feel, knowing that Taylor was in Mexico, in Cabrera’s mansion at this very moment, looking for him, and he hadn’t even tried to reach her? Perhaps if he had made up his mind to get out earlier instead of succumbing to Cabrera’s threats and ultimatums, Shaun would be alive—
Craig shook his head to rid himself of the agonizing thoughts. Shaun was gone now, but Craig vowed silently not to let his death go unchallenged. He owed it to Shaun and to himself to find Taylor and get her away from Cabrera’s control. Perhaps he would die in the attempt, but he had to at least give it a try.
Suddenly Craig heard Jim stir. In the dim starlight, Craig saw him rise on his elbow and look at Craig curiously.
“Do you know what time it is, Phillips?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing at this hour?”
“Thinking.”
Jim’s voice softened. “Yeah, it was bad what they did to your brother today. Get some rest. You’ll be able to deal with it better after you’ve had some sleep.”
“I’m not going to sleep.”
“Come on, Phillips—”
Craig turned his head sharply to the dim shape next to him. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m getting out of here.”
“Shhhh!” Walden’s voice cut to a hoarse whisper, glancing around quickly to see if they’d been heard. “If someone hears you, you’re a dead man. Now I know this shit with your brother is upsetting, but you’re talking crazy. There’s no way in hell you can pull off an escape from here and live to tell about it.”
“You’re right,” Craig whispered back. “I can’t make an escape—on my own.” His voice began to surge with quiet determination. “But I think I might have a crack at it with some help, like from you, for instance.”
There was a long stretch of silence from the opposite bunk, and Craig was beginning to think that Walden had fallen back to sleep and wouldn’t remember a single word of their conversation in the morning. Then his voice broke in.
“I don’t know—”
“What’s the matter?” Craig’s whispers turned bitter. “You got no guts, Walden? I thought I could count on you.”
“Back off, kid,” Walden retorted. “I’d like nothing better than to blow this place myself, but I’m not keen on the idea of you becoming fertilizer for the fucking cactus around here!”
“All right, sorry,” Craig conceded, settling down. Walden cared about him, perhaps more than Craig realized. He didn’t want to see Craig make a fatal mistake. “I haven’t changed my mind, though. Shaun told me that Taylor is staying at Cabrera’s house right now, looking for me.”
“Oh yeah, you told me about her.”
“I have to find her. I have to get her out of there, or die trying. You’re the only one who can help me do it.”
Jim paused. “Are you sure you want to take this chance? One fuck-up could kill you.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then,” Walden said. “How do you propose to pull it off? You can’t exactly just check out of this place.”
“I have a plan,” Craig began. “It’s a long shot, but if those guards are as stupid as I think they are, it just might work. Are you in?”
“Yeah, I’m in, if you think it’s got a chance.”
“It will work,” Craig said with finality, then added, “It’s got to.”
The plan went into action the very next day.
He laid awake the entire previous night. The idea of what he was about to do kept the adrenalin pumping through his body so tirelessly that he couldn’t have slept even if he’d wanted to.
As usual, he and the others were taken out to the fields to work before the sun came up, and with each passing moment, Craig stayed silently on guard, waiting for the right moment to move quickly, a moment that could come at any time.
He had to be ready. He knew that if his timing were off, even a second, if the daily routine were altered in the slightest way, his plan would come to a crashing halt, along with his life. Nevertheless, he maintained a cool, practical self-control that somehow insulated him from feeling any fear or nervousness. He knew what he had to do; his mind and entire being were geared to that moment.
Later, as dusk began to fall, Craig scanned the area. Most of the guards were lounging around the truck talking, waiting casually for the day to finally end. They were paying little attention to the workers, as usual. Craig saw Walden on the opposite end of the field. Remembering his less-than-enthusiastic attitude about the plan the night before and his quiet, withdrawn attitude since their discussion, Craig began to wonder if Walden was going to help him at all.
Suddenly their eyes locked, bridging the distance between them. At that moment Craig knew that the time had come. It was all coming down. Walden’s eyes lingered a moment longer over Craig. Craig realized that his gaze was a silent farewell, knowing that the two might never see each other again.
Craig didn’t have time to feel any regret at leaving his friend behind, for suddenly Walden clutched his abdomen, screaming incoherently in Spanish and falling to the ground. The guards looked curiously in that direction while the other men began moving in to see the action. At that instant, Craig dropped face down to the ground and began crawling like a soldier in combat away from the group. He could hear Walden still screaming and the confused voices of the guards as they tried to make their way through the other men who had gathered around.
Craig began to feel weak with fear, but he kept on, moving on his belly as fast as he could down the slopes of hard, parched earth and through the endless aisles of poppies, toward the mountainous rocks ahead that lined the property. The fierce Mexican sun had scorched the ground, burning his chest, but still he concentrated on w
hat he had to do.
He thought of what was going on behind him as the voices began to fade. Did they know he was missing yet? he thought. He fully expected an onslaught of guards to pile on top of him at any moment and drag him back to the compound, and he didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him then.
He was nearing the end of the rows, where large, craggy rocks bordered the fields. A forest of pine trees, stood just beyond that. He had to get there, to the trees, to freedom—
Suddenly he heard guards yelling in the distance behind him.
They realized he was gone.
Then there was gunfire. Whining bullets whizzed overhead while he crawled at breakneck speed toward the trees. He reached the end of the row and stood up. Glancing back, he realized with horror that he had been seen. One of the guards in the distance raised his rifle. The others followed suit, and Craig began running away from the barrage of gunfire that screamed around him.
He quickly dodged behind a rocky ledge as the hard thuds of bullets slammed into the surrounding stones. Ignoring an almost primitive urge to run askew in sheer panic, he forged on over the hot surface of the rocks that surrounded the property. He glanced back as a bullet cracked only inches from his face. They were coming closer, screaming in Spanish through the poppies, moving in. Craig looked back and saw Suarez leading the way. He threw down his Uzi while he ran, a loaded revolver now waving in his hand.
The sight of Suarez coming after him gave Craig the fresh spur of adrenalin he needed to keep going. His breathing was labored, and his heart pounded with fear as he scrambled downward, over the boulders toward the forest.
He had finally made it to the tree line when suddenly one of the shots hit its mark. He fell with a cry as an awful burning began in his leg where the bullet had lodged. Craig looked down quickly. Pain stabbed through him like a thousand daggers, but he knew he couldn’t stop now, no matter what. They’d have to kill him first.
A Perilous Pursuit Page 26