Vice

by Callie Hart

  “Natalia!” My shout is deadened as soon as it leaves my mouth. “NATALIA!”

  Shit. Please let her be safe. Please let her be safe.

  I open door after door, not finding what I’m looking for, only smoke and more smoke. I can’t breathe. My eyes are stinging, running like crazy, and my lungs are on fire themselves. My body is telling me that I need to leave immediately, but I can’t. I refuse. Until I find her, I will not leave this house. I should have told her what I was going to do, but really what good would it have done? I didn’t plan on there being a fucking fire. I didn’t know I was going to be running blind through the house, screaming her name, unable to find her.

  I try three more doors.

  Nothing.

  And then, as I’m really beginning to lose my shit, I try to open a door and it won’t budge. I throw my weight against it, and still it remains firmly closed. It’s not locked, though. I can feel a little give before it jams, which means it’s probably been blocked with something.

  “Natalia?” I holler as loud as I can.

  A muffled cry comes from the other side of the door. There’s a scraping sound, and then the door opens. She’s there, in that beautiful green dress, though it’s ripped now, and she’s tied her hair back into a ponytail, out of the way. A dark smudge of soot marks her cheek. She looks wild and panicked. She rushes me, throwing her arms around my neck. “I thought they’d killed you,” she sobs. “I thought my father found you or something. I didn’t know where you were.”

  “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here.” She feels so small in my arms. So vulnerable. She would have found her way out if I hadn’t come for her, I’m sure of it, she’s capable of fending for herself, but damn. Knowing that I have her in my arms is the sweetest fucking relief. I kiss her temple, pressing my lips against her skin, and then I set her down. “Come on. There’s no time.” I sound like my sister, but it’s the truth. Somehow, the fire is contained upstairs right now, but it won’t be forever. And once the ceilings start to collapse…

  I take her by the hand, dragging her out of the room.

  “I thought I’d find you two together.”

  Ahead, hidden by the smoke, a figure stands, blocking the hallway. He’s taller than Fernando. Broader than him, too.

  Harrison.

  He stalks forward, and the first thing I notice is the gun in his hand, which is pointed directly at my head.

  “You’re a piece of work,” he snarls. “I knew you were full of shit. I fucking knew it.”

  I step in front of Natalia, holding up my own gun. “Get out of the way, Harrison.”

  “What the fuck, man? You seriously think asking me to move is gonna do the trick?”

  “Actually, no.” I lunge forward, ducking as I grab for his gun. Maybe he thought there’d be further preamble to this fight, but I’m not one to hang around. He seems surprised that I’ve just flown at him. He reacts quickly, but I’ve already got hold of his wrist, and I’m forcing his arm upward, so the gun is aimed at the ceiling.

  Harrison lashes out with his free hand, striking me in the throat. For all the shit I’ve given him about being hired help instead of military, the bastard knows how to hit. It feels like my windpipe has been crushed. Pain blinds me for a second, but that’s all it is…a second. I don’t release his wrist. He’s expecting me to back off, to let him go so I can recover myself, but this isn’t my first time at the rodeo. I’ve had practice at this, and I’m pretty fucking good at it.

  I headbutt him, smashing my forehead against the bridge of his nose—the strongest part of my head against the most sensitive part of his. I know I’ve broken bone when he yells out. He grits his teeth together, but he doesn’t release his gun, either.

  Natalia’s somewhere behind us. I clench my hand into a fist, driving it into Harrison’s ribs as hard as I can, trying to move him out of the way. I’m successful. He staggers to the right, his body slamming into the wall.

  “Natalia, go! Wait outside for me!” I shout.

  She hesitates, but not for long. She runs past me, and then she’s enveloped in the thick gray-white smoke, vanishing like an apparition.

  “You think he’s going to let her live after this?” Harrison spits. “He’s gonna fucking destroy her. He’ll take whatever he wants from her. He’ll make her beg for his forgiveness, then he’ll dump her body off the closest cliff face. Not even the wolves will be allowed to have her after he’s finished with her.”

  Harrison is right. Fernando’s such a selfish guy; he probably would rather Natalia was dashed to pieces on the rocks rather than hand her over, even to his pets.

  “You did this to her,” Harrison says. “When he’s done punishing her, and there’s nothing left of her, you’ll know that it was all your fault. You should have listened to him. You should have done as you were told!”

  Such bullshit. I grab hold of him by the hair, yanking his head back so I can smash his face into the wall. The impact is so satisfying. The plaster crumbles, small cracks appearing like a spider web in the paintwork. Harrison sags a little, but it’s only a moment before he’s back up and swinging. I’m so fucking dizzy, my head swimming from the smoke inhalation, that my response time is delayed. He clips me on the jaw, and lights dance in my eyes. Again, he hits me—the stomach this time—and I double over, trying to recover myself. Oxygen is already thin on the ground right now. I don’t need a slug to the gut to make breathing even harder.

  “But you never know,” Harrison says, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “Maybe I’ll kill Fernando myself. Maybe I’ll shoot the psycho in the back while he’s distracted. Then I can have Natalia all to myself.”

  If Harrison wants to pour gasoline on this fire, he just made the right call. He shouldn’t talk about her. He shouldn’t have even thought such a thing. I gather what little strength I have left in my body and I right myself, drawing up to my full height. Harrison knows he’s pushed the right button; he points his gun at me again, smiling like the asshole he is.

  “You’ll never best me, motherfucker. You keep throwing the fact that you were military and I was private security in my face, but it’s precisely why I will survive this and you won’t. All those rules and regulations. Always doing things by the book. We didn’t have to adhere to any bullshit rules when I was in the desert. There ain’t no Geneva Convention in this kind of war, my friend.”

  I can see it in his eyes. He’s going to shoot me, and he’s going to take great pleasure in watching me die. I don’t plan on giving in that easily, though. His finger hovers over the trigger, twitching restlessly.

  Any second now.

  Any second…

  Just as he moves into action, I drop to the ground, though. He fires, the loud snap and zip of the bullet rushing past my head. I roll onto my back, aiming my gun upward, and I fire. His shot missed me by a mile, whereas my shot hits home, driving deep into his shoulder. Harrison rocks sideways, his body hitting the wall, and his gun falls from his hand, landing on the floor at his feet. A stream of blood begins pumping down the front of his white shirt. The surprise on his face is classic; he really did believe that was going to be his defining moment of victory. Well, too bad so sad, motherfucker. Sorry to disappoint.

  His shoulder wound won’t kill him. He’ll lose a lot of blood if he leaves it long enough, but he’s not going to drop down dead immediately. He falls on me, strong hands clawing and pulling at me as he tries to overpower me. I’m done fucking around, though. Time for Harrison to learn a real lesson.

  I plan on shooting him in the temple, but he knocks my gun away in the struggle. It goes skittering off into the smoke and darkness, and I have no idea where it ends up as we wrestle. Harrison’s gun is down on the ground somewhere, but in the confusion of limbs and flying fists, it must get knocked away, too.

  I can feel my body starting to lag. I need fresh air and I need it badly. The synapses in my brain are firing in slow motion, and every single cell in my body is screaming for oxy
gen. I don’t give up, though. I can’t. My arm hits something, sharp and hard. I scramble for it, closing my hand around…

  …a handle.

  A knife handle. I can’t see what kind of knife it is, and to be honest I don’t really care. So long as it has a sharp edge to it, it will suffice. Harrison’s trying to get on top of me, to pin me to the ground so he can pummel the shit out of me, but I have other ideas. I drive the knife upward, slamming it into his torso, grinding the blade in between his ribs. This is a high damage zone. The lungs, the heart, the liver. The kidneys, depending on how big the blade is. I could hit any of these major internal organs, and it’s the long goodnight for Harrison.

  He goes still.

  Blood bubbles from his lips, trickling out of his mouth as he releases a strange, relieved sounding sigh. “Fuck…you…” he whispers.

  I lean toward him, shoving my face into his. “No, Harrison. Seriously. Fuck you.” I twist the knife, yanking it around, feeling the sharpened edge of the metal scraping against his ribs. More blood spews from his mouth. He begins to shake, his eyes rolling back into his head. I shove him away from me, pushing him off me, and I get to my feet. Harrison lies in a sprawled-out mess on the floor, hands resting gingerly on either side of the knife, which is still sticking out of his body. I leave it in there, not because I pity him. Not because I regret what I’ve done. I leave it there because I know he’ll bleed out if I remove it. He’ll lose too much blood too quickly and die, and where is the justice in that?

  I turn around, and I walk away. Harrison remains behind, choking on his own blood. The smoke will get him. If not, the fire or his injuries will. Either way, he is no longer my concern.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CARNAGE

  Outside, the place is laid to waste, bodies everywhere. The wolves are nowhere to be seen, though I can hear them yelping to one another excitedly in the distance. They won’t need to eat for days now.

  I scan the area, looking for Natalia. At first, I don’t see her, but then there she is, hunkered down, hugging her knees on the ground by one of the parked Patriots in the driveway. She sees me and comes to life. “Thank god!” She runs, barrelling into me, throwing her arms around my neck, and I catch her, laughing under my breath.

  “I’m okay,” I tell her. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine. It hurts to breathe, but I’ll be okay.”

  She’s right—it really does hurt to breathe. I wonder how many years being stuck inside the building, inhaling all of that shit has shaved off our lives. More than is fair. Less than I would have gladly traded to make sure she was safe.

  “Did you see anyone else in there?” she asks.

  “No. Not a soul.” I know what she’s thinking. Fernando. I haven’t seen him since before Ocho knocked me out. I have no idea where the fucker is, and to be honest I don’t want to know. We’ve taken too many risks. I hate the man, and he deserves to die, but waiting around here for him to show his face is a bad idea. It’s time to get the fuck out of here.

  “Where are the keys to this thing?” I nod to the Patriot.

  “In the maintenance shed,” Natalia tells me. “There’s a lock box on the wall where they keep the keys to all of the vehicles.”

  “Show me.”

  She leads me to the maintenance shed. I’ve noticed the building before, a decent-sized barn-like thing with a corrugated metal roof, painted green, presumably so it blends in with the surrounding rainforest. Inside, the open space is packed with all of Fernando’s gardening equipment: hedge clippers mounted on the walls; a wood chipper; three expensive looking John Deere lawn mowers; a small tractor, of all things, and a plethora of other random machines that are concealed in the dark. Along the back wall of the shed, a huge pile of chopped wood has been stacked; it almost reaches all the way to the ceiling.

  Natalia beelines for a metal box on the wall, which appears to be locked. She steps up onto a block of wood, reaching on top of the box, though, finding the key to open it up, and then she’s rifling through a multitude of labelled vehicle keys, searching for one in particular.

  “It’s not here.”

  “What about the key for the Humvee?”

  “Yes.” She selects the correct set and tosses them to me. “Ocho moved the Humvee, though. I don’t know where he left it.”

  “All good. I know where it is.” Or rather, Ocho knows where it is. Once I’ve found him and my sister, all four of us will be able to pile into the vehicle and burn it down the mountain. God knows where they are, though. I’m sure they’ve been watching the house. They’ve probably seen Natalia and me come in here.

  We’re about to leave the shed, when a loud metal clanging sound stops us dead. There, in the doorway, a figure stands in silhouette, just as Harrison did in the hallway outside the library. At first I think it’s Ocho, come to find us, but then I notice how tall the figure is. And the hammer in his hands. Looks like I won’t be leaving this mountain without fighting Fernando after all.

  “Oh, god.” Natalia sounds petrified. “He’ going to kill you,” she hisses.

  “No, he’s not.” My gun is gone. I left that knife behind, stuck in Harrison’s gut. I’m standing in a shed full of chainsaws and hedge trimmers, though. I think I’m going to be okay. Stooping down, I take hold of the closest object I can find: an axe. The handle is worn and smooth, obviously well used, and the edge glints in the darkness, wickedly sharp.

  “You were a guest in my house,” Fernando says darkly. “You betrayed my hospitality.”

  “Are we playing who’s more pissed at who right now? Because guarantee I’ll win that game.” My voice sounds as cold and empty as Fernando’s does. He takes a step forward, casting his eyes around the inside of the shed. He looks like he’s searching for something—his men, maybe? Or an extra weapon?

  “Why would you win, Kechu? I welcomed you with open arms here, when I was told to skin you alive and have you killed by so many people?”

  “Does the name Laura Preston mean anything to you?”

  Fernando frowns. “No, it does not.”

  “Well it should. You kidnapped her and kept her here against her will for years. And she was my sister.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fernando says, smiling. “The women that come here do so willing—”

  “Daddy. Don’t.” Natalia looks alarmed. “How can you lie so easily? None of the Servicio are here willingly.”

  Fernando shrugs. “Don’t they enjoy the free drugs I give to them? The free food? The free bed? The free clothes?”

  The man is fucking certifiable if he thinks he’s doing those poor bastards a favor. Natalia grinds her teeth together, pinning her father in a furious glare. “None of it is free. None of them asked for it, or wants it. They want to go home to their families. They would never have come here voluntarily. I know the truth, I always have. There’s no point trying to hide it from me anymore.”

  Fernando considers this. His expression is stormy, his eyes full of madness and anger. “All right. You are an adult now. Perhaps it’s time you knew the ways of the world.”

  “I’m twenty-six years old! I’ve been an adult for a long time, Daddy. And this is not the way of the world. It’s the way of your fucked-up, evil world, and I want no part in it.”

  “How do you think you would have survived without the money I make from my businesses here? Do you think you would have had such fine things if I were a fisherman, or a carpenter?”

  “I don’t care about fine things. I care about honor, and kindness. And I would gladly have starved to death before exploiting another human being for my own gain!” She’s crying, a river of tears rolling down her cheeks. Her backbone is straight, though, her chin held high. She’s finally facing him, and I am so damned proud. She needs this. No matter what happens next, even if we both die, she will die in the knowledge that she spoke her mind and stood up to him. Fernando doesn’t seem to like his daughter’s new attitude, however.

>   “You’re an ungrateful, spoiled little bitch,” he hisses. “I have given you everything, and you’re tossing it away for what? A man? He is no good for you, Natalia. He is the dirt beneath your feet. This is why I must protect you. This is why I must prevent you from making mistakes.”

  “You are the dirt beneath my feet. You are the black taint that marks my soul! You’re a murderer and a psychopath. You’re going to hell for what you’ve done.”

  The prospect of hell doesn’t seem to bother Fernando. Or the fact that his daughter has turned against him. He must have expected it at the end of the day; he must have known that eventually it would come to this. “Hell is of no concern to me,” he says. “My only concern is you.”

  “Bullshit! You sold your soul for power.”

  Fernando steps forward, a look of pure fury in his eyes. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, child. I will cut your tongue out of your head.” This, given what he did to Ocho, is no threat. Natalia pales.

  “You won’t. This is it for you, Father. This is the night you die. Don’t you see that?”

  He jerks back, confusion on his face. “Why? Because my house is in ruins? My guests are all dead, or gone? Or…” His eyes flicker to me. “Do you propose this man will kill me?”

  “Of course I’m going to kill you,” I say wearily. “You’re a grade A cunt. I’m actually really looking forward to it.”