The Dead Among Us (Chapter 7: Enter Sandman)
0900 hours"Beunos dias! Que pasa? It's a good morning, no?" I nodded towards my lieutenant, Ricky, as I was coming out of the master bedroom of our villa. Ricky Gonzalez and I are second cousins, but he and I grew up so close, we basically call each other brother. "Si, hermano. 'S a good morning indeed. Not a cloud in sight," I said, as I gazed off into the horizon. He chuckled, handing me a glass of orange juice. "Rosita just had it pressed from the harvest. It's a little pulpy, but you won't mind, me equivoco?" "No, Ricky, it's fine." I graciously took the glass from him, telling him, "Muchos gracias." I started drinking, and I must admit, it was sweeter-- and tangier-- than any orange juice I had tasted before. Just goes to show that fresh, off-the-tree oranges are better than anything in the world. This here would no doubt give me a decent start to my long day ahead. "How are our new guests settling in? It's been a week now, right?""I think they're doing just fine, Carlos. Hell, Rachel seems to love it here. She's a pretty thing, no?" The ocelot that was my cousin was chuckling along with me, bobbing his tail while we walked outside onto the porch. "Ten cuidado, cousin. She'd sooner kill you than lay with you," was what I told him before bursting out into a hearty laugh. Ah, wicked women always brought joy to the heart of men like us. I looked out on the yard, seeing dozens of armed guards patrolling the walls, women and young teens going to work in the fields tirelessly. We, as a family, did so much together to make sure this place survived. After all, that's what it means to be a Santana. I had a paw on my MP412, grinning like El Diablo, ready to meet with Richard Phillips uno a uno, to discuss our next plan of attack.Before long, that base will be ours.When the two of us met, the sly fox had his feet up on a coffee table, smoking a cigarette and smiling smugly at me, like he was proud of himself, or thought he was better. "Que estas haciendo?" I asked him."What?" he replied questioningly. "Damn gringo... I said what the hell are you doing? Do you always put your paws up on people's tables? That's very un-guest-like of you. How would you like it if I came up into your home and put my feet all over your tables, huh?" People like him got on my nerves. Already I saw our relationship would get a bit rocky, but this dumbass had promising assets. "Anyways," I muttered, sitting down on the sofa across from him. He took his feet off the coffee table, scoffing, and I squared up with him. "Now, look, I'm willing to cut a deal with you, give you a little asylum here, but I gotta know what me and me familia are going to get out it, capisce?" I grabbed the crystal bottle of tequila off of the coffee table, along with two of the four glasses next to it on the wooden platter, and poured the two of us a glass of the amber-colored liquor."Yeah, yeah," he said non-chalantly. "It's not a problem. That base, Fort Brazos? With the help of your 'amigos', taking that place down won't be hard. But it's not just them the Zetas are worried about." He reclined back in the chair, drawing a knife from his pocket. He started cleaning it with his shirt tail, shrugging. "I don't know if you know, but there's little 'safe-zones' like them scattered all over the state. Granted, no one else has the audacity to try bringing in new people by broadcasting their location, but, you know," he continued, picking up his glass and sipping lightly. "What goes around, comes around." He began a slow, rich chuckle, nodding his head. "Their little 'leader,' Storm... Guy was a cop, captain on the SWAT team. He had it out for me
but I blew up one of their fuel tanks and now the fucker's probably dead." His sick laughter continued, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him. It always made me feel a little light-headed when ever one of those blue pigs finally got their just desserts. I offered him a cigar, and he gave me a polite thank-you. I obliged and reached for another one for myself, putting it in my own mouth after clipping it, and then fished my matchbook out of my pocket. Igniting the little stick and lighting my cigar, I waved the match out and took a puff of smoke. I was about to offer him a flame as well, but apparently he already had a disposable butane lighter. I tapped my smoldering Jamaican masterpiece on the ash tray, while we continued on. "So, if you have indeed taken out their leader, than no doubt, their base is defenseless, no? All the people are, eh, panicked and disorganized, am I correct?" The slim, but muscular brown fox slowly shook his head, telling me, "It's not that simple. You see, they run that place like the Army never left it-- and with how many soldiers that are there, I'd say they really didn't. Which means, one one officer dies, it just falls to the next person in command. Storm, you see, I did a little digging on. Ex-Special Forces officer, a captain or something. Guy's seen it all, done it all. He had all the experience that base needed, and with him gone, who KNOWS who might get to take his place? Hopefully, it's some idiot who doesn't know what he's doing." The other man shrugged. I curled up on the sofa, wrapping my tail around myself, feeling a rather cold draft coming through our recently-repaired air conditioning system. He noticed it as well, and clung to his jacket a bit before taking another gulp at his tequila and continuing. "Now, no doubt it's going to be a little hectic while they try to work out their chain of command. The most senior officer will take over, and then we'll have to figure out who it is. I also don't doubt that they'll have a no-saluting rule and what not." He dulled on, waving his paw through the air while he spoke. "So," I asked inquisitively. "How, eh, difficult would this--" He interrupted me. How
rude!"That's a little more complicated. You see, it used to be a base for the 1st Special Forces, meaning they're going to have some of the most state-of-the-art equipment. If we're going to attack without any support from the higher-ups, we're going to need to go with the element of surprise."
Something wasn't right here. "What's this 'we' you speak of?" I asked him.He held his arms up, Jesus-style, saying, "You, me, my sister, and your whole family, duh!" He leaned forward tentatively. "Listen, compadre, I can get you that base, if you let me help you. My sister and I have been scouting every last inch of that place, right under their noses. We get in, do our business, and the other guys either die or get out. You see?" I nodded in understanding, pouring myself another glass of tequila after finishing my first one. At least, this way, if something went wrong, I could claim I was drunk when we made this deal. Instantly forfeits it. "I must say, jefe, you speak English very well." He chuckled lightly before finishing off his glass. "Better than myself, maybe." I shrugged meekly, smiling warmly, saying, "I have to! You don't run a cartel without speaking at least two languages fluently. What if you end up in court?" I grabbed out a few golden coins from my vest pocket, antiques handed down to me by my grand father. "You see this?" I laid them all out on the table. "This here is how you work the system. A silver tongue, and a little bit of gold. Comprende, amigo?"He laughed along with me, nodding and toasting. "Si, I 'comprende', amigo." Damn gringo. Funny, but can't speak Spanish well to save his life. Oh well, just the
same.I have no intention in letting him into my family's roaming space. I stepped outside, leaving Richard there, seeking a word with my cousin. "Ricky, you sure about this guy?" I said."Si, Carlos. If the big man says he's valuable, I trust him. Besides, those twins have a record of doing anything they put their mind to without any consequence." He rubbed the back of his head, scratched his ear, and shrugged. "Hell, they broke 'los Brazos de Dios.' If they can do that and get away without a scratch, I'd say they could help us take over, no?" I shook my head solemnly, closing my eyes reverently before looking back up at him. "No, brother. They carry too much karma to get away with something this big.""Aish! You still believe in that mess?" "Si, Ricky, and let me tell you something," I continued, looking him dead in the eyes. "They're going to help us get El Brazos, but that's that end of the line for them. Comprende?"He nodded silently, adjusting the Kalishnikov he held in the crook of his elbow. "I can agree with you there... They may be reputable killers, but that doesn't make them trustworthers protectors, no?" I tipped my hat, giving a gesture of accordance. There would be no way I could sleep soundly under the same roof a small a couple of psychopaths. I knew full and well who the Phillips twins were. "So Carlos," Ricky started. "You see los meurtos? Crazy, right?" I shrugged, unsure of what he meant. "They're rotting so... so fast. It's not like you see in the movies, Carlos... First four weeks, and they're almost bone."I nodded, sighing happily. "It may be," I replied, "that we won't have to worry about them long." I certainly hoped so. I imagined, what with the heat and the humidity of this area, that soon they undead would be gone, returned to their graves. "But moving past that Ricky... I heard from Raul that you had something to show me, si?"He nodded again, and walked off, saying, "Vamonos." I went after him, and he led me right to the tool shed. "Ay, ay, ay, Ricky, you didn't..." He cracked open the door, and there sat a rather skinny fox-looking vato, tied to a chair, blood running down his face. He had a black eye, a maybe a few other bruises, but my eyes were drawn to the scars all over his face. He was out of it, to say the least. Ricky stood there, proud of himself. "Ricky, who the hell is this?" "I haven't gotten a name yet, jefe," he said. "He's the most close-mouth vato I've ever seen. Got some real cohones, too!" "Ricky," I snapped, visibly frustrated. "I didn't ask for his name, I asked who the hell he is. What is he doing here?"My cousin rolled his eyes, putting his paws on his hips. "Caught the bastard in the garage. He was putting crushed glass gas tanks of the cars. Also found something taped to one of the villa's supports, looked like a bomb of some kind."My eyes widened. "A bomb!?" "Si, jefe! Look on the work bench!" I came in to analyze the thing. Sure enough, it was heavy, square, and packaged neatly in thick paper. There were wird coming in and out, and an obvious blasting cap near one of the ends of the wires. This thing looked like a military-grade plastic explosive (I've seen plenty) but there weren't any markings. I walked up to the crazy-looking bastard, holding it in his face, and screamed, "Where did you get this?!"The dude just looked up at me, cracked a blood-crusted smile, and laughed. It was sickening. It was a slow, rich chuckle, and this guy looked like a 170 pound cut of USDA Grade-A Choice crazy. "I made it," was all he said, in a thick, raspy voice."Where did you come from?" "Cardiff.""No, I mean, where do you live!?""Houston."He was beginning to get on my nerves. His face was completely stoic, and he somehow gave me the feeling like he was the one with the power. I knelt beside him, and said, "Sir, you had better start answering my questions, or I'm going to kill you."That obviously incited his mouth. "You think you can threaten me with death? We're all going to die, one day. Some of us just have earlier appointments on the calendars..." Reaching into my pocket, I flicked open a pocket knife and held it close to his face. "You got a real sick sense of humor,
hombre.""What now? You think carving up my face some more will hurt me? You'll be doing me a favor by evening out the scars..."I stood up, eyeing Ricky. "He eve talk to you think much, Ricky?""No," he replied, "He didn't even flinch when I punched him!"He then spoke up again, chuckling. "So you're the boss, huh? I would've expected someone uglier... At least I'll get some eye candy before I go..." I glanced back over at him, rather confused, and very disgusted. "What? Didn't think the other boss's be a fag?""Boss of what, exactly?" I straighter out, getting back in his face again. I waved Ricky away, and he left without a word. "Chief Warrant Officer Jack Taylor... At your service."