A Cruel and Violent Storm

by Don M. Esquibel

  A pang goes through me at the memory. How can the man who told me that be the same man who gave me these injuries? Even now, I’m struggling to come to terms with it. All this time I prayed to find him alive—that somehow he found a way to survive. But to join the Animas Animals? To raid and kill? To blackmail and coerce? I would never have thought him capable of such things.

  Our ride is a short one, the trucks in our convoy coming to a halt not ten minutes later. Engines go silent. Doors open and close, jeers and taunts reaching us through the truck’s walls. There’s a metallic scrape and the doors open to reveal a line of five men, each with their guns pointed inside.

  “Out,” barks the thickest of them.

  Clumsily we climb out, our hands restrained behind our backs. A girl, one of Byron and Lylette’s recruits, slips upon exiting and faceplants hard onto the icy parking lot. A low whimper escapes her as the men laugh.

  “Get up you stupid hatchet wound,” sneers the man who ordered us out. He grabs a fist full of her hair and pulls her to her feet, making the woman yell out in pain. “Quit your crying,” he says yanking her hair further so she’s bent backward, staring up at him.

  “Enough!” I shout.

  The man’s eyes snap to me, his torment of the girl forgotten. A sudden hush falls as he advances toward me, every guard within earshot stopping to watch.

  “What did you just say?” he asks, so close the sourness of his breath fills my nostrils. He’s bigger than me. Armed and clearly callous. But I stand my ground all the same.

  “I said, enough,” I answer. He stares down at me long and hard, face angry. Then, slowly, he smiles.

  “You have fight in you,” he says. “That’s good. It’ll be fun taking it away.”

  He watches me close, looking for signs of intimidation, of fear. I show him none. Instead, I smile back, aiming to antagonize, to unnerve him in some small way.

  “You have no idea what I fight f—”

  His strike is fast and hard, catching me on the side of the head completely unexpected. Another strike lands and I’m forced to a knee. A third strike, and I’m flattened to the frozen ground. Damn he’s strong, my face aching from where his fist connected. I look up and Leon’s face swims in and out of my vision, his shaking head warning me to stay down. But then the sound of that bastard’s laughter reaches my ears, and I feel the rage rise within me.

  “Like I said,” he cackles. “It’s going to be fun tak—”

  I sweep out his legs in one smooth motion, the air leaving his lungs as he lands flat on his back. I roll over on top of him, knees pinning him to the ground. Hands bound behind me, I rear my head back and bring it down hard onto his. Pain erupts from the moment of contact, my vision going black. I’m violently ripped off him, the hands restraining me the only thing keeping me from hitting the ground.

  “Get off me!” I hear the man yell.

  I open my eyes at the sound of his voice, the world a blurry mess. He swats away the men trying to help him and rises violently to his feet. His nose is broken, dark rivers of blood flowing freely down his chin and staining his shirt. My head throbs and aches, but this site makes it all worth it.

  “You stupid son of a bitch!” he seethes, withdrawing his gun and leveling it between my eyes.

  “ENOUGH!” yells a voice I know. The man looks angrily to his left and I follow suit. Frank marches toward us, brow narrowed in disdain.

  “Lower your gun,” he orders. “I won’t ask you twice.”

  The authority in his voice is unmistakable, enough so that the man bottles his anger and lowers it resentfully.

  “But he attacked me, sir,” the man spits. “That can’t go unpunished!”

  Frank looks at the man in disgust. “I saw,” Frank says. “And if a bound grunt flat on his face can do that to you, you deserve the injuries he gave you. Now go get yourself cleaned up! I’ll take it from here.”

  The man looks mutinous, but he doesn’t challenge the order. “Yes, sir!” he says, shaking in fury. He spares me one last glance, and if looks could kill I’d be dead where I stand. Then he turns and walks through the guarded front entrance. It’s with a sinking stomach that I finally realize where we are: The DoubleTree. I haven’t forgotten the night we freed my cousins. The security was lax then, and still we needed every bit of luck on our side to succeed. Things have tightened considerably since then. I’m afraid luck won’t be enough this time around.

  “Leave him be,” Frank orders. I nearly buckle when the guards let me go, only just managing to keep my feet. I straighten myself out, fighting through the throb beating inside my skull.

  “Try that shit again, and you’ll regret it,” Frank says

  His eyes meet mine and it’s as if I’m seeing him clearly for the first time. Did we never laugh together, joke together? The early morning hunts and fly fishing trips—the ATV adventures and nights around the campfire—did they never happen? Or did the man I know die sometime between then and now?

  “Sorry sir, but she’s a friend of mine,” I say. “A man I once knew said nothing in this life matters without family and friends.”

  Something flashes behind his eyes, a flicker of emotion so quick I can’t decipher. But when he speaks, it’s with the same cold indifference as earlier.

  “Sounds like the kind of bullshit people used to believe,” he says. “But it’s a new world, and the only thing that matters in it is power: those that have it and those who don’t. The sooner you realize things have changed, the better off you’ll be.”

  My eyes never leave his, searching for the flash of emotion I saw only moments ago. I find none, his stare as cold as his words.

  “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that,” I say.

  “Good. Now fall back in line.” He waits until I’ve done so before addressing his men. “Let us show these grunts their accommodations.”

  Frank leads us around the north side of the building, my eyes soaking in as much detail of their fortifications as possible. The windows and sliding glass doors have been boarded all along the first floor. Lookouts have been posted at intervals along the top floor, their decks barricaded in the event of a shootout. One shifts his gaze from the highway and spots me, a grin splitting his face as he puts me in his crosshairs and mimes taking a shot.

  A sharp smack hits the back of my head.

  “Eyes ahead of you,” one of our escorts warns. I glare at him but raise no more issue. I don’t need to give them any more reason to injure me further. We reach a side entrance, the door opening at our approach.

  “Inform Captain Barr of our arrival,” he instructs one of the men standing guard.

  “He’s already sent word, sir,” the guard replies. “He asked that you begin overseeing the interrogations without him.”

  This catches Frank by surprise. “Did he specify why?”

  “No, sir. Only that he had other matters to deal with.”

  “Very well,” Frank says. “As you were.”

  We continue past the guards, a small flashlight in Frank’s hand the only light in the dark hall. Frank opens a door at the end of the hallway and steps back.

  “This will do for now,” he instructs the men. “I don’t want them speaking with the others before interrogations.” One by one we file in, but just as I’m about to enter, Frank throws out an arm to stop me.

  “This one likes to talk,” he says. “I’ll start with him. In the meantime, .keep the rest quiet. I don’t want any collaboration on their part.”

  “Do you need assistance, sir?” one of the men asks.

  Frank just smirks. “That won’t be necessary. If this grunt tries anything stupid, I’ll show him what real pain feels like.” His men nod their approval, leering grins splitting their faces as Frank leads me to another room several doors down. I enter the room, Frank lighting a lantern just inside the door.

  The room is as sparse as it is bleak, a quick survey of the place telling me all I need to know. Splatters of dried blood stain the carpet. Metal
hooks hang from the wall. In one corner sits a metal tub filled with jugs of water, a black tool chest filled with God knows what sitting in the other. How many have suffered within these walls? How many wills broken, secrets spilled? I think back to the night of Richard’s interrogation, of the tactics he used to ensure that father and son were not a threat to us. Perhaps I’m about to receive my penance for my part in it.

  “You truly have become an Animal, haven’t you?” I ask with as much bitterness as I can manage. Frank sets the lantern down on the room’s lone table, his back to me. If ever there was a prayer of a chance of me overtaking him, it’s now. But then he speaks, his voice filled with such pain that it freezes me where I stand.

  “No, Morgan,” he says. “I’m afraid I’ve become something far worse.”

  He turns, and the resentment inside me dies at the sight of him. Gone is the cold-hearted tyrant who brought me here. In his place, a man who is the embodiment of misery and torment, as if the dark energy within this room has taken over him.

  “Frank...” His name leaves my mouth before I can think of anything to say, the sudden change in his demeanor leaving me lost for words.

  “Don’t,” he lashes out. “I’m not worthy of your sympathy.” I watch him for a strained minute. I thought outside I saw Frank at his worse. But this is something else entirely.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Frank?” I finally ask. “How could it possibly have come to this?”

  He violently wipes the tears from his face, steeling himself the best he can with a steadying breath.

  “I’ve asked myself the same question a thousand times,” he says. “But in the end what does it matter? Regardless of my reasons, there’s no justifying the things I’ve done.”

  His eyes meet mine for the first time since entering the room, the remorse and self-hatred so potent it’s all I can do but not look away.

  “Maybe not,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean your reasons are irrelevant.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I’m here because I’m a fool. A fool who’s made more mistakes than I could name. Worst part is I didn’t even realize it until this morning.”

  He pauses, a visible tremor rocking his body. I have the sense to wait, to give him the time he needs to gather his thoughts. It’s his story to tell after all. He deserves the right to tell it in his own time.

  “When the pulse hit, I knew the world had just gone to hell,” he says. “Knew it the moment everything went black. But that doesn’t mean I had a clue on what to do, how to handle it. All I knew was that I needed my family together. That was the most important thing. I could figure out the rest after we were all under one roof. Felix was in Denver of course. Nothing I could do about that, except pray he could find his way home...and he did.”

  His voice breaks, and he has to pause for a moment. He works past the lump in his throat and continues.

  “That left my girls. I hated the idea of leaving Christina and Rob alone, but I couldn’t justify taking them with me. So I had them lock the place down, and told them I’d be back by nightfall, morning at the latest. I had my old Polaris, after all. I figured even if I lost the thing after arriving in town, we could make it back by then, no problem. But when I got to their place, they weren’t there. That put a hole in my plan, basically leaving me with only two options: either stay and hope they returned, or else leave and try and find them through chaos. I chose to stay.

  “I waited all afternoon, all evening. I fell asleep at some point, woke up just as the sun was rising. I couldn’t wait any longer. I left a note behind telling them I was there and to stay put, that I would return to the house if I hadn’t found them. I searched everywhere I could think of, any place I thought they might feel safe. No luck. And when I returned to their house, they still hadn’t returned.

  “I can’t even begin to describe how worried I was by then—literally sick to my stomach, my mind filled with every vile scenario imaginable. I knew first hand how bad things had turned. The things I saw searching broke my heart, made my skin crawl. Two days and the town didn’t even resemble itself. No law, no rules, it was an open free for all, everything up for grabs. And my daughters were somewhere in the middle of it, my wife and son on their own, wondering why the hell I hadn’t made it back.

  “I set out the next morning the same as the last, searching anywhere I could think of. I was driving down 3rd Ave when I noticed a truck pull up next to one of the houses. I knew what was going on, this wasn’t the first raid I had seen since I’d been in town. Even if it was, the tied and gagged women in the truck bed were clear enough. They hadn’t seen me though, and I had enough sense to keep out of sight until they passed. I waited, did my best to block out the gunshots and the screams that followed. I hated myself for doing nothing. But I couldn’t risk my life if my girls were still out there somewhere. The truck started again, and I could hear it draw nearer. Finally, it came within sight of my hiding spot, and my heart stopped. They were there, both of them, gagged and bound to the girls on either side of them.”

  A shadow crosses his face as he says this. A dark menace filling his words as he continues.

  “I never knew hate like I did at that moment. Never felt rage so pure. I didn’t even think, just acted. I took out the driver easily enough. They were barely moving, and I had a clear shot. The two in the bed were next, dropped both of them before the truck had even rolled to a stop. Without the guards, the girls were frantic. Half tried to flee, the other half were too afraid to do anything but try and find cover. Tied as they were, nobody could make a run for it. This all might have turned out differently if they could.

  “I had three down, but there were still three inside the truck, and they were smart enough not to give me a target. I emptied two full magazines into the side of the truck. Managed to get one, but the bodies kept the other two safe until they crawled out the back. I hoped they would make a run for it, try to escape. Instead, they flipped the script on me.

  “They took cover behind the girls, using them as human shields so I couldn’t take a shot. They told me I had ten seconds to lay down my guns and show myself. If I didn’t, one of the girls would die. I couldn’t show myself, it was the one advantage I had. So I called their bluff, and ten seconds later they put a bullet through one of their heads. They gave me another ten seconds. I didn’t need half that. When my girls saw me, they lost it. I don’t blame them, but that gave those bastards all the explanation they needed. I expected them to kill me then and there...hell, part of me wishes they had. But they had other plans for me.

  “They had their fun humiliating me in front of my girls, beating me till I lost consciousness. I don’t know how long I was out. By the time I came around, I was chained to a metal support beam in some garage, tied so tight I couldn’t move a muscle. I tried to break free, but all I managed to do was make enough noise to let them know I was awake. Three men entered, the two who beat me and a third. One look at the third man and I knew he was the shot caller of the bunch, and he didn’t waste any time letting me know so. He introduced himself as Boss—a vain, narcissistic name if there ever was one—and handed me this.”

  Frank reaches into his pocket and withdraws a wallet, empty but for several photographs of his family. But from the back, he takes out a single photo that stands apart from the other, one that makes my stomach churn and horrifying understanding blossom. Brianna and Lena, two girls I love as if they were my own sisters, kneel in the photo; hands bound, mouths gagged, cheeks slick with tears as two men hold guns against their heads. It all makes sense now.

  “He told me he was planning on building something, and that I had just been recruited to his cause. He would keep my girls safe, unharmed, so long as I did as I was ordered. Then he went on some about his vision for the future, how we would be the kings of this new world. It was all bullshit. All that mattered was that he had me by the balls and that so long as he had my girls, I would do whatever he asked.”

  I search his eyes, the self-
loathing I witnessed earlier as potent as ever.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me, Morgan,” he says. “But trust me when I tell you that it will never be more than I hate myself.”

  The room grows silent. He’s right, I think to myself: I do hate him. At least, I hate the things he’s done. But where there is hate there is also sympathy. Understanding. I know what it means to do things for those you love. Had I been in his shoes, I don’t know that I’d have done any different. Even so, his story doesn’t explain everything.

  “You claim you were coerced into this, and yet you walk through these hallways, unchecked, unchallenged. You have men calling you sir, obeying your orders without hesitation. How have you not figured out a way to get you and your girls free form this?”

  He laughs, a dark cackle of a sound, so unlike the one I remember.

  “Do you know where my girls are at this very moment?” he asks. “On the third floor, in a block of suites that have been sealed off from the rest of the hotel. It’s where Boss keeps high valued hostages—wives, children, whoever he needs to keep people like me in line. There’s a squad of soldiers he’s handpicked whose sole responsibility is keeping the area secure—nobody enters, nobody leaves without his approval. I can visit, but only under the supervision of the guards, my weapons stripped before I’m even allowed to see them. They are allowed time outside, but only within sight of the snipers, and never without accompanying guards. But yes, I’ve planned ways to free us of this hellhole, each one less likely to succeed than the last. We would be caught, and we would die a traitor’s death. I couldn’t risk it, Morgan. Not when I know the sick things that son of a bitch would subject my girls to. I already failed my wife and son...I couldn’t fail them too.”

  The anguish lacing his final words is undeniable. How long has he tortured himself over leaving his wife and son—how long has he mourned them, ignorant to their survival? He’s no longer the man I once knew. This place, the deeds he’s committed have changed him. But one trait that has endured is the lengths he would go through to keep his family safe.