Hiding

by N. M. Catalano

  For killing that girl.

  For almost killing Jesús.

  I’m going to kill him with the same knife I killed his brother with.

  As we move through the trees that surround the Mexican compound, my heart beat quickens, and I hear every noise. The unsuspecting guards are laughing at something as a car approaches the house. My muscles tighten with apprehension.

  Who the fuck is that?

  “Who let the goddam pigs in here,” one of the guards laughs out loud. “Michaels, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Michaels? I know that name…Who the fuck is that?

  My instincts tell me I know who he is. And not in a good way.

  Pig…cop…a fucking cop!

  O’Sullivan’s fucking partner!!

  He came to make sure they’ve got the right girl!

  I glance over to Scott. He’s got a finger pressed to the earpiece listening to information coming in.

  They don’t know a cop’s a part of this and working undercover. If they do, they’ll pull back and wait for more intel.

  If he’s not, he’s here as a bad guy.

  The worst goddam kind.

  A dirty fucking cop!

  Seconds seem like hours as my body is coiled and ready to attack.

  If they get the word to pull back, they can go without me. NOTHING is stopping.

  After a moment, he nods, giving me the signal that it’s still a ‘Go’. My muscles loosen as we start to move forward once again.

  He’s a bad fucking cop!

  We’re just inside the tree line now. Scott is looking left to right, searching to make sure the other team members that are within his vision are in place. He’s nodding as I’m sure the reports are still coming in through the feed, giving him up to the second information.

  We stand in the darkness. I’m calm and steady, I’ve spent the past twenty years of my life in the darkness, cocooned by my secrets, existing there. Darkness is my home, my lover, my sanctuary. You don’t meet the devil in the light, you can only find him in the darkness. My demon was born in the dark. That’s where he’ll win.

  I realize everything had prepared for this, all that I’d done had brought me here. The darkness and secrets had molded me, created me, I became what I needed to in order to be what I am right here, right now. Up until this moment, I’d been steel submerged in fire, forged into the perfect weapon.

  The time has come.

  The weapon is ready.

  A female sob cuts through the air straight to my heart, slicing it in two. A feral growl erupts from my chest as I lunge forward.

  MARIA!!

  Kill!

  Kill!

  KILL!

  The sob resounds through my blood lust, reigniting the fury burning in my veins as I catapult from the tree line straight into the compound and toward the guards outside the small building the wail came from.

  All around me hell breaks loose. Shots come from the trees taking out armed men as the army of ten lethal soldiers come out of the woods blazing.

  Instantly the false peaceful solitude turns into a war zone.

  I’ve already got my blade drawn as I grab the first guard by the neck, yank, and slice. He’s still fumbling for his gun as his blood pours from the long wound across his throat and he falls to his knees.

  I don’t stop. As I pull my knife away, I spin and bury it into the throat of the man who’d been standing next to him.

  Another sob comes from the building riding the wave of a scream.

  MARIA, I’M COMING!

  “MOTHERFUCKER!” the third man shouts at me over the gunfire.

  I crouch and just miss the bullet he’d had aimed for me.

  That’s fucking Michaels!!! Filthy motherfucking cop!!

  “Fuck you!” I snarl and shove my knife into his thigh as a bullet hits him right in the goddam head.

  Too bad I didn’t kill you!

  He falls back and hits the ground with a slow thud.

  I spit on him.

  The urge to plunge the knife into his temple grips me, but I ignore it, he’s already dead. Streams of crimson are pooling around me fast and thick from the bodies lying on the ground.

  They’re not the right bodies.

  The sound I hear next makes my skin crawl. I recognize it, I’ve heard it a million fucking times. Maria is laughing and crying all in the same breath.

  I realize she’s stoned, hallucinating, they’ve got her drugged.

  Rage engulfs me as I jump to my feet and run toward the shack.

  No one’s come out of there.

  They won’t.

  Ivan’s in there and he’s waiting for me. He knew I’d come for her, that’s why he took her.

  I’m here mother fucker!

  When I throw open the door, the image of what’s waiting inside severs the last tether holding the demon inside me.

  “Detective Santiago, so nice of you to join us. We’ve been waiting for you, haven’t we, Maria?”

  Ivan is standing propped against the wall like he’s waiting for a bus, arms folded across his chest, one foot crossed over the other, and a bloody whip dangling from his hand. Red splatters cover his front.

  Maria, my beautiful, strong Maria is naked and tied facing the wall, her arms spread open, legs stretched wide, and a fucking noose around her neck. The rope is fed over a beam from the ceiling and is pulling her, choking her, as she struggles to remain standing on her feet in her awkward position. Her face is beet red and saliva and spit is dripping from her blue lips.

  The most horrendous things are the bloody welts from the whip all over her beautiful body, her ink art shredded. The sick fuck smeared the blood from her wounds down her back, over her ass, between her legs, and up and down the insides of her thighs.

  He leers at me. “She likes it when you fuck her with her blood covering your fingers, don’t you, puta?”

  A strangled laugh/sob comes from her drooling mouth.

  What kind of demented monster does this?!

  I fucking snap.

  Possessed by the demon, my fury unleashes and I lunge, aiming the blade covered with the blood of the two men I’d already killed straight for Ivan’s heart.

  He expects the attack and lifts his leg, landing it right in the middle of my chest. The impact pushes me back, but not before my knife digs into his calf. As I go back, so does the blade, slicing the meat from the bone.

  He screams and drops to the floor.

  Pulling the rope around Maria’s neck with him.

  I watch in horror, every move in slow motion, as Maria’s body is hoisted higher, her arms and legs stretching so far, I’m sure her limbs have pulled from their sockets. The gurgling sounds coming from her stop my heart.

  I can’t move fast enough to get to the rope clutched in Ivan’s hand, each step feels like I’m trudging through quicksand. The sharp metal gripped in my hand glides through it as Ivan pulls his own from somewhere on his body and lands it in my arm.

  It doesn’t fucking matter.

  I’m beyond comprehension, the pain doesn’t register, nothing matters except shredding him to pieces.

  We’re savages, our hate for each other is its own entity, alive and moving in our weapons.

  My hand arcs through the air and I bring it down hard, but he blocks the blow.

  The crunch of the bones in his hand as it’s pierced makes me smile.

  I might not have penetrated his heart, but bludgeoning his hand is a good second best.

  Maria’s coughing and gasping desperately for air, still strung up by her arms and legs. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her floundering to stand, unable to because of how far her feet are tied, strangled moans and sobs escape her as she tries to breathe.

  I need to finish this. NOW!

  Grabbing Ivan’s injured hand, I squeeze it. He screams and tries to pull it free. I grip it tighter, trying to crush it, rubbing the broken bones around and around. I lower my face so I’m speaking directly into his ear.r />
  I want him to hear every fucking word I’m about to tell him.

  “I’m going to kill you with the same knife I killed your brother with. It’s only fitting, don’t you think?”

  Lifting my face so I can look into his eyes, his body bucking and thrashing beneath me, I bury my weapon in his side and pull it across his abdomen, gutting him open.

  “Tell your brother I said hello when you get to hell.”

  I pull it out and plunge it into his left eye right up to the hilt, through his brain.

  He stops moving.

  That was too quick, I wanted to make him suffer. Make him writhe in agony like he made Maria.

  There’s not time to dwell. Maria’s still suffering. I give the blade on final twist before pulling it out.

  “I’m here, everything’s going to be okay,” I speak to her softly as I wrap an arm around her waist to steady her. Her back arches away from me from the pressure on her wounds, then she goes slack.

  I bend and cut each ankle free as I hold her tightly so she doesn’t fall, “I know, I’m so sorry. It’s over,” I murmur gently.

  Her legs are like jelly, unable to hold her as I cut her arms loose. There’s a puddle of her blood at her feet and when I pull her away, she leaves a trail as I drag her through it.

  Cradling her in my arms, I sit with her nestled against me in the far corner.

  “Maria, talk to me,” I grip her chin and lift her face to mine.

  Her eyes flutter open and closed, her pupils are contracted and small, her face is pale and clammy, and her lips are still blue.

  Her eyes don’t open again.

  “Maria wake up!” I yell at her. I don’t want to shake her but that is exactly my first instinct.

  She’s not responsive.

  She might be overdosing.

  I’ve got to get her to a goddam hospital!

  Outside, the hysteria has died down to stray gunfire sounding sporadically.

  I scoop her up and cradle her in my arms. Sheltering her with my body, I leave the building and search for Scott.

  I need a fucking ambulance, WHERE ARE THEY?

  Running across the compound to the main house and driveway, Maria’s head rolls around her shoulders and her arms and legs swing like limp noodles.

  “Baby, wake up!” I growl.

  Nothing.

  “RICO!” Scott shouts from the house.

  Thank God!

  I reach Scott, but I refuse to let Maria go.

  “Where the fuck are the ambulances? She might be ODing!”

  He presses two fingers to her neck searching for a pulse.

  I want to rip his arm off.

  “She’s got a pulse, it’s extremely faint, but it’s there,” he says as he digs into a pocket inside his bullet proof vest. “I brought this just in case.” His voice is stern and official.

  He pulls out a needle, grabs her arm by the bicep, and jabs the needle into the lifeless limb.

  NARCAN, the antidote for an overdose.

  “Thank fucking Christ,” the words whoosh from my mouth in relief.

  I could kiss him right now.

  “Keep talking to her, monitor her for responses. The ambulance will be here any minute,” he barks at me.

  I don’t sit, I keep pacing while talking to her. Loud. I’m forcing her to hear me, feel me, even if it’s painful.

  I need her to live.

  “We’re getting you to a hospital, baby. You’re going to be fine. Hang on, Maria. Just a couple of more minutes!” My voice has risen to a yell by the time I finish.

  Eternity passes in a few minutes. It’s torture, the worst agony watching and waiting for any sign, anything to let me know she’s coming back.

  I almost missed it. Lost in the nightmare, I almost didn’t catch it.

  “Rico, stop yelling at me.” It was low, it was gruff.

  It was the most incredibly sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

  I laugh. I howl. I fucking cry.

  Then I kiss her. I smother her in kisses.

  And I’m never going to stop.

  Maria

  CHAPTER 22

  Everything hurts. My mind is a conundrum of colors. The sensations are severe, but muted, unending, but detached.

  I don’t know if I’m waking up or coming to.

  Falling asleep, or if I’m sleeping.

  I’m face down in a bed, a really uncomfortable bed. As I begin to focus, nothing is familiar. I don’t move, I don’t want to move, afraid that I’ll bring on something I don’t want into my wakeful dream.

  But I don’t care.

  I lay there and do nothing but stare at the wall in front of me through the metal handrails, content but leery, lost some place where the pain doesn’t matter and clarity doesn’t exist.

  Wait…when did I get rails on my bed?

  This doesn’t seem strange to me. Why doesn’t it seem strange? I think it should be weird.

  The walls got painted, when did that happen?

  I think I’m in my room, but it doesn’t look like my room.

  Does it matter?

  I’m seeing but not seeing, looking, but not paying attention.

  My mind is floating from one thing to next.

  There are voices, lots and lots of voices, and sounds, unusual sounds, sounds that you don’t hear every day. There are beeps and bells, men’s voices and women’s voices, wheels squeaking as they turn, and the loud scratch of something heavy getting pushed or pulled.

  Images pass through the dull colors of my mind, I’m unaware if they’re reality or my imagination.

  They take me on a carnival ride of emotions.

  Get your tickets and get on board, ladies and gentlemen!

  I giggle.

  Fasten your seatbelts, the ride is about to begin.

  I giggle again.

  I can feel the unreal jerk of the car of my imaginary ride.

  I smile as the imaginary wind tickles my face and the sun shines down on me, warming my skin.

  The ride begins.

  My smile gets bigger.

  This is going to be so much fun!

  The whoosh of sites begins to unfurl in my mind and starts a rollercoaster of emotions.

  Buildings.

  Sorrow.

  White leather seats in a bad ass car.

  Joy.

  A bowl of pasta.

  Apprehension and desire.

  Bare wooden walls.

  FEAR.

  Wooden beams.

  DREAD!

  A whip and a rope.

  HYSTERIA AND AGONY!

  Rainbows and monsters…

  A scream rips from deep inside me. My soul aches as terror engulfs me. The words, the thoughts, the visions all emerging and crashing down on me at lightning speed are embedded deep in my psyche and bring forth an avalanche of vivid memories from my living hell.

  As my body tenses, I grip the sheets tightly and freeze as a tsunami of pain sucks me under.

  I scream again.

  It hurts, IT HURTS SO FUCKING BAD!

  “Maria!” Through the blinding fog of agony, I hear Rico. “I’m here, you’re safe. Relax your body and it won’t hurt so bad.”

  I can’t comprehend anything, the only thing that’s real is THE PAIN.

  THE FEAR.

  THE TERROR.

  I lash out a hand to hit, to fight, to stop the torture!

  A strong hand grips my wrist to stop my attempted assault. I scream again and try to pull away from my abductor.

  Another wave from the raging inferno of unbearable PAIN floods me.

  OH GOD, PLEASE, LET ME DIE.

  I melt into the mattress, destroyed and beaten, and sob. My wails are gut wrenching and all consuming, despair a bottomless pit with thrashing jaws eating me alive.

  “Maria, I know. I’m so, so sorry…”

  Rico. He’s here.

  Even through the blanket of red pain and hopeless sorrow smothering me, I can hear his voice, strained and fill
ed with anguish.

  It takes herculean effort to open my hand to reach for his.

  I’m panting. “Rico…”

  I’m so afraid to move, to breathe, to do anything to not bring on another fire wave of torture.

  “I’m here, kitten,” he whispers through a choked sob.

  Even with the slicing agony, I smile.

  “I love that name,” I whisper harshly.

  He laughs nervously.

  “I’m so glad.”

  His desperation and anguish is heavy and thick, drowning him with its weight, like sadness regurgitated on him and smothered him with its filth.

  At first my breathing is labored as I clutch Rico’s hand and ride through the aftershocks of the fires of hell that shredded me. I don’t know if I flow in and out of consciousness, but I hold onto him for dear life. In my agonized state, I hear Rico talking to another man while never letting go of my hand. I try to pay attention, but my mind is so muddled, it’s hard to keep up with the questions and answers firing back and forth.

  “She’s awake.”

  “She’s in fucking pain,” Rico’s voice is tight and furious.

  “Did she exert herself? Some of the wounds on her back were deep. I’ll order more pain medicine,” the stranger replies.

  Wounds?

  I moan and squeeze Rico’s hand tightly.

  The whip.

  An image slashes through my mind just as quickly as the whip arced through the air and landed on my skin, ripping it open again and again.

  I flinch and clutch Rico’s hand in a death grip.

  PAIN.

  It shoots through me scorching every one of my nerve endings. I cry out again.

  “You said because we don’t know what they shot her up with, you didn’t know what the contraindications would be. You said you had no idea if it could throw her into a coma.” Rico growls at him.

  A pause, a momentary lull in their conversation gives me a grateful reprieve from the memories they’re conjuring. Every word they’re muttering is like an association game, and my participation only brings hell back to life.

  “Dammit!”

  “You think I like seeing her suffer?! I’d do anything to take it all away,” Rico can’t hide the sob this time, shoving its fist down his throat and making him gag.

  I squeeze his hand again.

  “Rico,” it’s barely audible. But he hears me.