The Sun also Sets

"So what are we doing?" I open the action on the old Berretta in the hopes of finding a lone round in the chamber. No such luck.

"We need to get Jerry." Lou winces as he works the arm that he took the shot through.
"If I had a round in this gun I would try that gunpowder trick you used on me in Modoc."
"Yeah, like we have shots to waste."
I know he is serious, but I can see the idea working on him. Six shots or not, if he bleeds out we are done.
Taylor is confused as he watches Lou break down the spare shot gun shell and tap the powder into the hole in his arm.

"I need a light." He hisses... the gunpowder stinging the open wound as it sits in there.
I tap my pockets, know full well there is no lighter in there. Taylor reaches for his shirt pocket but comes up empty. Just when Lou feels like the fool for wasting the shell, the boy understands what we are looking for and pulls out a Bic and flicks it to life. Lou grabs his hand as he holds it and draws it to his packed wound until if flares off. The boy's jaw drops as he looks at the fireworks.

"SHHHHiitt... " He almost passes out, but manages to fight it back and stay on his feet. The smell of burned meat and smokeless gunpowder stings the nostrils. There are only two of us standing here that knows what that feels like. I wish I wasn't one of them.

"Okay... alright, I'm alright." Lou shakes it off and stands tall.
"We need to get Jerry." He looks at the boy and says something to him in mother tongue. The boy nods and Lou puts a hand on the slight shoulder.
"Junior here will watch the men at the plane. He will run back to the main house to alert us if any of them start back here."

We send him on his way and we start toward the house. It is pitch black now. Taylor leads us, having been back and forth several times. We find several lights on at the far end of the structure.
"Is that where Jerry is?" I whisper.

Taylor's hand points through the darkness, "He is on that side."
No light, no guard... at least not outside the building. They must have assumed that Taylor had run away. Hell... I would after knowing what he knows about what they did to these people here.

Lou's trained eyes see something I don't.
"One man, under the overhang of the roof where it drops down."
I see nothing.
"Wait for it."
A tiny orange light grows and then dies.
"No shit."

Lou goes left, staying low in the arroyo. We are left to create a small distraction so he can get close enough to dispatch this guy without making any noise. We count to fifty and then throw a couple of large stones out away from the house... toward the lighted side. When they clack down to the ground the orange light hits the ground and the man emerges. We can barely make out his shape, but we can see the weapon as it comes up.

There is a pause, then he calls a name. I am hoping it isn't loud enough to bring anyone out of the house. Before he can call again, he is brought to the ground. There is a short burst of a struggle, and then nothing. Slowly one man rises to his feet, then drags the other back into the shadows.

"Come on, let's go." I grab Taylor.
"What if that wasn't Lou that got up just now."
"It was Lou. If it were the other guy we would have heard about it by now. And why would he drag him off like that? He wouldn't give a fuck."

We stumble through the darkness until we are close enough to whisper a call.
"Lou?"
"Come on."

In seconds we are next to him. He is winded. There are more to his injuries than he is letting on.
"We have an AK." He hands the shotgun to me. I hear the clip come out of the machine gun and then lock back into place.
"Feels like a full clip."
He kneels down and frisks the body for a back up. Nothing.
"This night is getting better already."

We gather at the door and Taylor slowly turns the handle. It opens with little fanfare... or noise. We slip inside.

The only light is emminating from the cracks around a closed door. There is a foul smell in here. Not quite the stink of death, but pretty damn close to it. The floor is sticky.

"What the hell is on the floor?" I whisper, immediately feeling Lou's grip on my arm to silence me. We stand motionless for a beat to see if we might be discovered. Nothing.
"More like who is on the floor." Taylor whispers in response.
"Will you two shut the fuck up." Lou hisses.

We approach the door and brace ourselves. There is a moment where we wait for any sound... breathing... anything. When it seems we have waited long enough, Lou lifts the latch and tries to silently open the door. The hinges squeel, ruining any chance of surprise. He flings it open and we burst into the room, ready for a fight.

There is no enemy, not in here anyway. What is in here brings even Lou's solid demeanor to its knees. I feel my stomach churn and I turn and vomit, causing the two of them to do the same.

Jerry, or what is left of him, is tied above the opening at the top of fifty five gallon steel drum overflowing with a viscous fluid. It looks to be only his head and clavical, suspended by a leather harness that cups under his chin and then is hooked to a chain hanging from the rafters. His facial features tell the horrifying tale of his last moments of consciousness.

"Jesus... Jerry." I feel my emotions in my throat, replacing the sickening evacuation from moments ago.

"We're done here." Lou turns and exits, realizing that we may end up in the Pozolero's stew pot if we didn't get out of here. I turn to follow, but Taylor stands transfixed on the terrifying sight of Jerry's last moment.

"Come on, Taylor, we gotta go."
"He's gone... he's... How do we get out of here? I can't fly that thing."
"I will fly us out of here."
"You?"

I grab his arm and tow him out of the room. As soon as we close the door, he turns and leads the way out.

Lou is crouched down outside the structure, motioning us down. In a matter of moments I can hear it too. Someone is coming.

In the darkness the boy sprints across toward us from the buildings near the airstrip. He doesn't see us and when he passes us, Lou snatches him and holds a hand over his mouth.
"Easy... easy boy, it's us." He let's his hand drop and immediately regrets it.
"Están viniendo, ESTAN VINIENDO"

Lou puts his hand back over the boy's mouth, but it is too late.
"They're coming."

We hear voices, alerted to the kid's outburst. He had survived all of this... his grandfather and all of those around him murdered, the terror of watching and hearing the torture. It is too much for a boy to handle. He squirms and wrestles free and disappears into the night.

"Great... just great." Taylor says under his breath. "He couldn't just run by and whisper that they are coming?"

We see two men making their way around to our right. Whether they see us or not isn't as important as the fact that is only two of the eight and we don't see the other six.

Lou taps my shoulder and he leans in.
"You boys let me do the shooting if we mix it up. We need to conserve as much ammo as possible. If I have to drop one of them, get their weapon. We will arm as we go."

The two on our right walk on by our position about twenty yards off.

"Taylor... " Lou whispers so lightly that I wasn't sure if I heard him at all, but Taylor did. He moves next to Lou.
"How is your throwing arm?"
Taylor nods... "Good."
Lou places a good sized stone into his hand and then looks at me.
"When Taylor throws that rock at the house and it hits, you run like the fucking wind to Abigail. I have a feeling that the rest of these guys are hiding in the dark out here. The noise will flush them out, or at least draw their attention."

He puts a hand on my shoulder, "You might have to cap a couple of these guys. If you do, the rest will come running." He takes the pump shotgun from Taylor and trades the double barrel, handing the pump to me. I also get the extra shell and slide it as quietly as I can into the bottom of the gun.
Lou gives my shoulder a squeeze, "You be careful."

I am facing the other way when Taylor throws the rock. I can hear him make his move and it is a three count before it hits. I don't even look. Like a guy running 50 yard dash, the rock is my starter pistol. I bolt from my position and run like hell towards the buildings that hide Abigail from view.

Behind me the alert sounds as a half a dozen men pour from the house. No shots fired, not yet. I stay as low as I can in the wash and scramble toward the structures near the runway.

In an instant they are in front of me, running... make more noise than four men should. I drop and try to flatten out into the arroyo. They are heading right for me. One of them steps inches in front of the shotgun barrel.

Gunshots... pistol, I think. Not ours. I make the buildings in front of me and skirt around the side, low and quick. I can make out Abby in the darkness, her beautiful lines... like a statue at the Louvre.

Behind me, gunfire erupts... volley after volley. I hear the two blasts from the shotgun. They must be close to their position and desperate for Taylor to use the two rounds he has in that shotgun. AK fire is rampant. In the seconds I am focused on the gun battle I can hear the trigger-happy cartel guys... and then I can hear each single shot that Lou peels off. Deliberate and direct, he is culling them out and evening the odds.

I make the plane, winded and surging with adrenaline. The gun battle has done what he thought it would and has drawn the men away from Abby. I am alone with her. She is cold and still.

Inside I see the fuel bombs. No time to do anything about it. Before I hop up into the hold, I pull the chocks and toss them. Don't want to forget and have them hold us fast. As I scramble to the flight deck the gunfire is fully involved. I hear more shotgun blasts. Taylor has used his rounds which means someone else is chasing them down with a scatter gun.

I do a spot check of the controls, no time for checklists. Just as I am about to spin the number two engine, I hear the gun battle approaching. Single shots as Lou conserves his ammo, picking off the dark shapes that chase him toward me.

Abby's number two turns over very slowly. Someone has left a switch on and has sapped her battery power. I play with the throttle, hoping... praying that she will catch. If I can't start this engine we are through. This nightmare is going to end badly, I just know it.