Hiding

by N. M. Catalano

  “No,” he inches closer, “she’s not. And I’m not going to let you do something you’re going to regret. What the fuck good are you going to do her when you get her back and your ass is in prison?”

  The common sense of what he’s just said shouts at my rage.

  It doesn’t give a fuck.

  “I’m going. NOW.” Jerking my hand free, I move toward the door.

  I hear the chain rattle behind me before Scott’s grabbed my arm again.

  I’m ready for him.

  As he pulls me back, I follow thru and punch him right in his goddam face.

  Scott’s a big guy, built, tall, and all muscle. He might be bigger, but I’m faster, and right now I’m a death warrant in flesh. I’m insane rage, and rationale has no chance against insanity.

  He’s my friend, but if he really tries to stop me, I’ll put a fucking bullet in his head.

  I don’t give a shit about me.

  Let them put me in prison for the rest of my life.

  But they can’t have me until I get Maria.

  Scott was going to try and handcuff me.

  Stupid son-of-a-bitch!

  Chaos erupts in my small kitchen. Fists pounding flesh, the crunch of broken glass as our feet skid across the floor, each of us pushing against the other trying to get control. The sickly heavy thuds of impacts as we beat the living shit out of each other echo a dull continuous beat in the room.

  “Just listen to me for one goddam minute!” Scott bellows.

  “There isn’t a fucking minute, don’t you get it?!”

  I’m choking on agony.

  I’m being pulverized by images of what he’s doing to Maria.

  This is nothing compared to the massacre happening inside me.

  My fist connects with his jaw as I yell back at him.

  “Me and the boys are coming with you,” he head-butts me.

  That one dazes me momentarily, but my fury shakes it off.

  “There’s no fucking time for warrants, Scott. She’ll be dead!!”

  A fresh raw wave of agony rips new gashes in my soul.

  “I’ve got a fucking warrant!”

  What?!

  I stop, my fist frozen in mid-air.

  Walking toward the door again, I tell him over my shoulder, “Get in the fucking car, then tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Maria

  CHAPTER 20

  I don’t know how long I’ve been locked in this room, naked, with a dead body.

  At first, I didn’t mind, but I’m really not sure because I was lost in the clouds of the high. I remember talking to the dead guy. Then when my head started to clear, the first thing I did was throw-up.

  I’m sitting in a pool of my own urine mixed with his blood and vomit at my side. It’s a smorgasbord for the flies swarming around both the corpse and me. With the door locked, I know it is because I’d gotten up and tried it, and the windows locked and shut, I tried those too, the air is stifling and rancid, but I’m certain it’s only going get worse once the body begins to decay. Before I came back to the land of the living, the flies apparently had a field day on my body because I’m covered in bug bites, my wrists are raw from pulling at my arms, and if I let myself think about everything, I’m going to lose my mind.

  I’d battled back and forth between being at the lowest of lows, catatonically depressed, insane with fear, hopeless, and complacent with accepting the fact I’m going to die. Then the next minute I’m enraged and ready to fight the moment I’m given the opportunity.

  My head is still pounding, God, it hurts so bad, but at least I can think, I’m thirsty, and incredibly exhausted. I’ve been able to sift through the sounds outside; they’ve got me in some kind of outdoor building. There are some voices, both male and female, but no one sounds nearby. There’s also a single vehicle running, but it sounds lumbered and slow, not like a car driving down a road. Either no one can hear me, or they’re ignoring my cries and the banging. If I had to bet, it’s the second one.

  Squinting at the man with the smashed in head lying in front of me in a mangled heap, is it wrong to be happy he’s dead? Is it a sin that I’m glad he got what I feel he deserves? Through the fog that is my memory since being kidnapped by the man from the restaurant, I recall seeing him too and I know that he killed him, I remember the dead guy touched me. I’m sure he was going to rape me. It repulses me how my body reacted to the touch, I remember wanting more of it, while still feeling terror. It’s all dizzy and disconnected, like recalling a television show I’d caught glimpses of through sleep fuzzy eyes.

  Except this is real.

  Don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutit!!

  As I’d sat during the hours, it must have been hours although sometimes in my stupor it’d felt as fleeting as minutes and as stretched out as years, visions and memories flitted through my mind as soft as butterfly wings.

  With those memories and thoughts came feelings. Some of them made me ache with such deep sorrow, others made me euphoric. I’d been with Rafi at times, young, naïve, and innocent. Even growing up in Spanish Harlem, I’d been innocent, I just didn’t know it at the time. I’d been thrust into the world of the vile and the wicked by force. For once, sitting here in the filth I’d help create, I was grateful for that. If I’d found myself in this position before now, I don’t honestly know if I would have had the capabilities and faculties to survive, to think, to detach myself from the situation and have clarity.

  I might be naked, tied, and spending the day with a dead body and covered in its blood, but I’m strong.

  That’s something they’ll never take.

  With my head resting against the wooden wall behind me, Rico fills my thoughts.

  How unfair life is to tease me with glimpses of a life I didn’t think was possible, only to snatch it back and laugh in my face. Life is a petty little bitch. Well, fuck her, I’m going to fight for it, I have nothing to lose. I know he’s coming. I also know I can’t rely only on that. I have to prepare myself, be ready when the monster comes back. I’m not naïve anymore, I know he’s going to do whatever he’s got planned when he returns.

  I’m not going down without a battle.

  Men’s voices prick my ears as they get closer and closer. My heart beat accelerates and I begin to sweat as a jolt of frightened nervousness sizzles through me.

  I thought I’d be ready, dear God, give me the strength to deal with this!

  “It’s none of your goddam business what I’m going to do with her!”

  I recognize that voice, it’s the thug from the restaurant, the man who smashed this guy’s head in with no emotion.

  It’s the monster.

  My breathing is quick and labored by the time they open the door.

  His body fills the doorway, looming and dangerous.

  “Maria Reyes,” my name is like poison on his tongue.

  I want to cover myself, hide myself from his intense glare. I even consider sidling up next to the corpse and using it as a shield. As quickly as the thought comes, revulsion pushes it aside. I have no choice but to face him. Gathering as much false bravado as I can, I straighten, bend my knees and tilt them to the side, and lift my chin at him defiantly.

  An emotionless smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “It seems our guest is back to normal.”

  “What do you want with me?” the hate I feel for this man is stronger than my fear of him.

  He laughs at me, the bastard.

  FUCK YOU!

  “Honestly? It’s not you I want, but you are quite a bonus.”

  Shock flashes hot through me, leaving me completely confused.

  “Get this trash out of here,” he commands the man behind him as he steps into the small space.

  His silent minion steps around his bulk and drags the decaying carcass from the room.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask as I scoot closer against the wall trying to put some distance between us.

  “Lik
e I said,” he sneers, “it’s not you I want.”

  “Then what the hell am I doing here?” I snap.

  I’m confused by his words, enraged because what’s happening is not what I thought it was, and ashamed of my nakedness and filth.

  “It’s your boyfriend, Detective Santiago,” he smiles broadly at me, acting like we’re having a friendly conversation.

  “You’ve got a problem with a cop, so you kidnap someone?”

  He lowers until he’s squatting in front of me, his sadistic smile taunting me and my state of helplessness and undress.

  If my hands were free, I’d claw his fucking eyes out.

  “No, Maria Reyes, it’s revenge.” He carelessly shrugs a shoulder. “And then you came along. From the minute I saw you,” his filthy gaze rakes over my bare flesh repulsing me and his closeness, “something about you intrigued me. You can imagine how happy I was to find out you are a wanted woman. Then when I realized you’re Santiago’s girlfriend, it was like I hit the jackpot.”

  Revenge? I don’t understand!

  Since he’s being so open, I press further. “Revenge for what?”

  He studies me, his dead eyes dancing back and forth across mine.

  Whatever he was deliberating, whatever argument he might have been having with himself seems to have come to a resolution, because he gives me a reason, a reason that literally surprises the hell out of me.

  “He killed my brother.”

  The words Rico had spoken to me the night I first saw his gang tattoo whoosh back through my brain sucking themselves to the forefront of my understanding.

  I made mistakes, stupid mistakes.

  He killed his brother when he was in the gang.

  Rico’s words keep coming like an avalanche out of control.

  My girlfriend.

  His brother killed his girlfriend.

  Dread, anger, horror all overwhelm me like a two ton wall collapsing on top of me.

  I hid, I was so careful.

  Maybe I hid from the wrong ones…

  The instant he reads my emotions a satisfied smirk slowly spreads across his sick fucking face.

  He takes the moment I let my guard slip and is on top of me, straddling my legs with a hand around my throat. “He took what was mine, so I took what’s his.” His fingers tighten until I’m sure he’s going to crush my trachea.

  I thrash my legs beneath him violently, desperately trying to suck in some air. My vision is blurring and my head is throbbing so hard, I hope it explodes to ease my pain.

  “Pedro!” he calls. I barely register the other man is now standing next to him. Then pain as he shoves a needle in my arm.

  Slowly, so tortuously slowly as I’m fighting for consciousness, the high begins to seep through me once again.

  No…

  He stands. “Pedro, time to get our guest cleaned up and ready for the evening’s festivities.”

  “Bueno, jefe!” comes the man’s shout from outside echoing in my rapidly clouding brain.

  Panic quickly joins the party of the dull storm of emotions that’s quickly lessening inside me. My one working eye moves back and forth between my abductor and the open doorway. Trying to hold onto coherency, my heart feels like it’s going to beat itself out of my chest, I can’t draw enough air into my lungs, I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. Until the drugs grip me, then the rainbows and monsters come floating back in.

  My senses are still on alert and I hear the rustling of something being dragged, not the body, it’s not that heavy. Then the other man’s there, Pedro, in the doorway. He’s holding a hose.

  “I’ll be back for you, Maria Reyes,” the rainbow monster smiles at me before he leaves.

  Pedro laughs before opening the hose to full force and blasting my naked body with a frozen shower as I’m pressed against the wall, still sitting with my hands tied behind my back. The steady baritone of his laughter begins the bass of a new tune in my rapidly hallucinating mind.

  I start to hum.

  No…

  Yes…

  Rainbows and monsters…

  RICO

  CHAPTER 21

  Scott already had men in place around the perimeter of the farm. The rest of us parked our vehicles on the adjoining property just before dusk. In the car, Scott filled me in on the information he had so far. We know that there are men on the farm positioned throughout the property with assault rifles, there’s a building where workers enter and leave wearing face masks and full hazmat suits, there’s also the main house, some out buildings, and what we assume is a bunkhouse.

  Whatever the hell they’re cultivating, I sure as shit don’t think it’s corn.

  And the men with the automatic weapons aren’t fucking farmers.

  Gangs had gotten smart over the years. They knew if they were going to play for higher stakes, they had to step up their game. Especially if they were ‘doing business’ with the likes of the cartels out of Mexico and the high rollers in New York. Years ago gangs began sending select members off to join the military in order to get battle trained. Carlos had been one of them.

  I’d bet anything, given the location and the heavily armed guards, this is an enterprise worth millions of dollars, a very illegal one. It wanted to remain nondescript and off any and all radars. Whoever is in charge is brilliant actually. The geographical location is ideal, in the middle of the East coast, right off the water which allows for ground, water, and air transport.

  They’re not going to let us walk up to the front door with a search warrant and let us waltz right in.

  I knew I was going to war.

  I thought I was going alone.

  I’m not.

  I’ve got a fucking platoon at my back.

  Scott and his DEA SWAT team (Special Weapons and Tactics) have been studying satellite surveillance of the farm land for the past seventy-two hours. Because of the murdered girl found in the park this morning, and Maria’s kidnapping, he ordered an expedited search warrant.

  We’ve got that bitch in hand.

  Procedures and protocol.

  I’d have gone in with or without it.

  As the sun sets, the team is gearing up. Snipers stealthily took their positions earlier after studying the layout of the buildings, their heights, window placements, and confirming which structures had the most traffic and what kind. We have a direct feed from headquarters as the captain and another stationary commander continue to monitor the satellite video and the movements on the farm.

  It’s killing me to wait, but there are too many civilians on the premises that will get caught in the cross fire, I don’t have any choice.

  The official word has come in, all the workers have exited the hazmat area and returned to their bunker.

  We’ve been given the all clear.

  We’re going in.

  I’m coming for you, Ivan.

  HOLD ON, MARIA!

  My breathing is even, my focus is steady, my blood is boiling. I might be a part of the police team, but tonight I’m not a cop.

  I’m retribution.

  The warrant I’m holding is a death warrant.

  It’s for Ivan, and for any motherfucker who gets in my way to Maria.

  The department is just my ticket in.

  The guys are an added bonus.

  Everyone is silent and alert, we’ve gone over the plan of entry and all the men are in position. While the farm is in transition, that’s when we’re going to hit them.

  Scott is a bad-ass motherfucker. He may look and act casual and polite, a perfect gentleman, but make no mistake, he can kill you instantly without you even knowing he’s there. He was Special Forces in the Army, and a master at unconventional warfare and fucking up the enemy, doing it silently like a damn ghost.

  Under the cloak of darkness, the men silently move forward from all sides. We circled the area but the path Scott and I are following lead directly to an outbuilding where earlier reports stated a body had been removed. When it came in I
ripped the receiver from Scott’s hand, I had to know if it was a man or a woman.

  The seconds it took to zoom in on the image for gender identity I died a tortuous death a million times. I was enraged, furious, my demon demanded to be set free to exact revenge NOW! Although the report came back identifying it as male, it did nothing to quell my need to kill, kill, KILL!

  Maria is in there, God only knows what they’ve done to her, and it’s my fault.

  His preferred method of destruction is a machete.

  Gruesome images have been haunting me since the moment I received Julie’s phone call.

  Scott read the agony written all over me, he’d seen how I moved to run to her, to save her, ready to jeopardize their entire operation.

  He knew I didn’t give a fuck about the operation.

  He’d seen the demon I carried within myself, hungry for blood and vengeance, starved to feed on Ivan’s carcass, the only thing that would satisfy it would be Ivan’s beating bloodied heart in its hand.

  He knew it.

  I knew it.

  I had to have it.

  “You’re going to get what you want, I promise,” he’d told me with a look I’d never seen on his face before.

  It was that promise, that look, that helped me wait.

  The waiting is over.

  My gaze is focused like a laser on my destination, each step taking me closer.

  I’m a machine programmed for destruction.

  And salvation.

  One is not possible without the other.

  A grin spreads across my face, sick as it is, at the thought of killing Ivan. I know it won’t only get Maria back, it will bring satisfaction for what he’d done to Jesús, and what his brother had done to Isabelle.

  He is evil.

  Death and horror is his choice of poison and sustenance.

  Right now, it’s mine too.

  My mouth is practically watering as I imagine his blood covering me, his cries piercing the air, until his lifeless body crumbles to the ground. I stroke my fingers along the cool blade resting against my thigh, the weight a welcome old friend.

  He has to pay for taking Maria, for touching her, hurting her, threatening her.