Dancing with Wolves

was trying to write a novel`

Dancing With Wolves

Prologue

Somewhere in the desert a conversation lightly picks up like a gust wind across the dirt then lightly thrown across the shaded red sand beneath the shade of a badly beaten up trailer inside its bareness voices trailed in the dark.

            He sat inches from me with a hand gun. I remember it so clearly.”  Grande whispers were a mounting peak then a chest heave apart.

“Said he was going to kill me.”

I can hear a gust of sudden wind arouse in his throat; muscles contract, his bones crack faintly in the dark as he continued on in talk.

“I smelt the fear before I tasted it as he nudge it under the table into my stomach. ‘Go’, His voice was sotto and cold.” Grande thick whiskers for a mustache cat whisked in the dark “I didn’t want to die but I knew if it was to happen, my time had come.”

A short heavy pant escape the entrance of his mouth before his voice could rise once more. It reminded me of a dog or the breath of this singer before my favorite song.

His throat faintly coughs before his need for water is recognize. Before his words spoke the roof of his mouth snaps against the dryness of his tongue almost sticking together shut and he wheezes this one “Took me up to a cabin, told me if the cops came back before he did I was a lucky man.  Then he tied me to this pole. He left on foot.” The thunder collapsed outside above us and I manage to turn overt off my back and see light. Outside looks so warm. “My throat had grown weary. The tongue tasted as ash before a burial. My nuts felt detach S”--- he cursed.  “I felt like a dead man already- like all my guts were butchered. I closed my sleepless eyes and believed in someone I never knew, knew I existed.”

His hands were shaking--- post-stress syndrome. I can hear his shackles like shingles obliterating the floor; raping her for God. For a moment his heart probably skipped its beat berating his breath guiding him onto a slow heat stroke death in the darkness of a trailer in the cavity of the desert. In the zone he became a dead man, that dead man tasting deaths kiss, engulfed by his enemy threats.

I reached into the darkness but he felt so far.

Tears touched the trailers floor. His ground unearthed; its ground not fertile but hard; dried and ruthless like a motherless thug and I waited for him to talk. Soon I heard a hard swallow and knew he was swallowing the remains of a dead man: His sultry, dark and hallowed ash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

A mans soul a wreckage if he stays here too long  Tommy Tony De Frank voice surprises him in thought as he eye up into the rear view mirror. An incorruptible patriot becomes a tainted b*****d with a tainted badge. He spits out the window with his hands on the wheel and turns off the highway into a dust filled road.

There were three things on his mind as he saw a glisten white spark shimmering in the heat of the day as he drive down a deserted road of a arid region in an uncultivated place of a God forsaken country that smelt of erratic rainfall and the permanent count of bodies charred to ash left dwelt, unsettle and vagabond under sand for a burial of interment. It was his love for life, the million dollar hit out on him that could not be bribed and the braced smiling picture of some Mexican born boy wanted dead or alive.

The burning sun casting its burnt offering over cursed land of disputed settlement between dead pilgrims and Aztecan warriors was slowly moving its widths end above the horizon stretching thin the darkness that lay bare within dark velvet blue skies. The stars rigidly hanging off the early morning sense was close to dwindling and obliterating into the coming  a commonly caliber ….. overtly a blue Cadillac bound further up north farther into the whisk of a lightly picking up desert storm.

He press his foot down harder on the gas as the car rev pass 90mph all alone out in the unproductive vegetation of hot air, rocks and sand. The wilderness tells tale on the ancientness of the place that had no desire for anything but the bereft of anything much to live.

He shifts the cars gear.

He had an appointed hour in time to be at an allotted place. It was another contact. It was another contact offering detailed insights on the kid. It was in a brief sweep of words though when he called Tommy Tony De Frank’s home this morning. He wanted to know if he was as interested as it gets. He told him if he wanted a thrilling ride towards the gas chambers of hell before his appointed date with his most obsessive foe death at the end of the line then this is for him.

“Hold on”

De Frank was sitting at the edge of a rumpled and rippled cotton linen sheeted bed in his short Irish styled looking trousers running his fingers through a cap of papers on the nightstand. His fingers finally finding the switch of the lamp hanging doltishly over the coverless fluffed down ‘till all the softness were gone’ pillows before rumpling through the scampered sets of papers till he found a blue inked pen.

“Say you are where?” his voice crankily ventured into his end of the phone to the mysterious callers voice on the other end.

“No. Meet me there.”

The man gives him the instructions on how to get to the place out in the scorching desert before warning him to “come alone,” before hanging up and leaving the vagueness of a dialed tone.

A man of few words was one not found of words De Frank thought before hanging up the receiver end back onto the hook. Then his head plops back down unto the bed before hearing light rain descend down onto the apartment buildings roof. It was then his head croaked to the other side still staring up at the height of the room he contemplates “Wait. How did he get my number?”

 

Now his eyes were bustling red hearing train wrecks upon train collision hauntingly to a screeching halt in his head the entire early morn. Tentative to the circumstances a lot weighed heavily on his mind. Yet he shift the gear once again and this time his car sped over 110 in the direction that was once step closer to finding the missing kid. He could not tell if his mind was slipping or one of his contacts had slip up or if this drive was a set up. Luckily he likes remoteness. The detachment reserved for bandits and the hopeful b******s who were making a jump for the border was a mere refugee to him than hiding behind fake alias and a grown thicket Mexican mustache belonging only to Mexican men. Yet it went thrifty with his face and features the way milk went with smoothies and milk shakes. He just could not have look right amongst all the general population under the designation of the sun if this hairy babe wasn’t kissing the pores on his face. The wind now circulating in a swift motion in the canals in his ear kissing him like one of the brown faced mujeres he had came to like, loved, and known.

Taking his one hand off the wheel he whips a finger across an itch on his face.

 It took a lot out of a man who had not made peace with who he is yet to continue on in what De Frank did. Impunity sometimes became uncertain. In an act of indecisive measures when it came to how sufficient or what had to gave to get at the wolves hidden in full veil of the casted shadows of the dense woods. He did it. No matter the consequences or the how poorly planned the outcome instances were he either had to shot out halves of a mans brain or pull a mans jaw off if he ever lied to him he did.

 He thought too long had he been chasing wolves tracking coyotes and still the scent of dangerous ground lingers astound him. Genuinely he did cared for a man in his line of work and wanted only to flex his army pumped guts about since the old war days were gone. The impulsion he got from the stuff, the adrenaline rush of a pure exhaust of ecstasy touch converting through his brain and veins were worth the every blow, mark and scar that was thrown lounge and badger into him. He learns to welcome the pain.

The hotness of the clamminess wax adhesively against his ears and eyes and head as too long he thought, too long had he been dancing with parlous sons of evil b******s of men in a beautiful country with blood for dirt but they kept his life completely riveted.

 Enthralled. Spellbound. Immersed into the diligence of evil working towards its perseverance because its pricks, thwarting excites and the unwillingness to merge with the gutting feeling he got with this job is what had him hook and sprung hunting coyotes before they were able to tear his heart out. It filled him. Renovated him. It had him compel. He was utterly arrested by its grip and intoxicated for its poisonous drink.

The miles blew up dusty high winds about his car and kept his mind cloudy as he travel further and further into the desert where the cactus looks is greener than emblem; where if sabotage a man 6 ft 2 inches could have his throat slit and decapitated at dawns break. He liked thinking luck was his brink and put a more peddle to it.

There past a bold eagle cry his stomach bald with his heart beating harder, a palpitating weight but his foot stayed off the breaks­­ �" there was a kid’s life at stake.

 There it was.

It was coming up into focus in all this smog and dust. De Frank turn abruptly the steering wheel and caused the car to jerk to swing crazily into the lot of the small square building with wide windows and a painted red sign that said “Diner”.  He ate the flying dust in his face before his feet could touch the grime on the ground- the car door flying open he stood any 2 foot taller than any Mexican he was sure as he combed his hand through his hair and made wave into the place to meet his contact. It wasn’t quite yet dawn.

Suddenly his lower torso hurt. One arm held a grip around his waist and in a smelly trench coat his right knee pick up a limp from some kind of eerie strain that relentlessly didn’t give in.  He then opens the door of the diner and swarm dangerously into the small crowd of alligators or snakes he is sure were waiting.     

 De Frank steps into the western looking parlor of a diner and flex his standards of a 6 footed 232 muscular pound man and shows he isn’t one to mess with. All the split seconds murmurs and glares crest from the moment Tommy Tony De Frank enters back to the gentle or the person sitting across caught up in some exchange. It was the way things went around here. This place, this land was so volcanic in all its madness in so much malice and bloodshed it save a life to never leave its bracket and never venture outside its realm. The thing was- you pretended not to notice the eerie things in what you’ve seen. And there was no anonymous call. And no one would show up or going missing.

The Diner was like an old Mexican tale alright reminding De Frank of the old John Wayne movies he hated so much growing up as a kid.

He lithe a cigar, raise it between his full lips and intake. He notices to the left of him the man behind the register gives him a churlish glare. He shot him back a smoke ring at his face. “Sir you can’t smoke in here.” The fledgling little b*****d said with a more intense glower. De Frank just let the boys words fade out and fester.

Two.  Three. Four paces now from the astronaut headwear for a bubble gum machine, De Frank limped and leaped counting to the fifth red 60’s stylish round halves of a sphere table with red smooth leather for a soft pad of a lunch table. Something good for his hard rear that hasn’t seen a soft bed in so long his footing relax, his butt almost relapsing into the one end of the chair. He let the cigars end its mark. Its fire kicked its last lap in his mouth as he lift the overcoat from in beneath him out onto the clean chair and ousted the now short butted cigarette into the smelly old thing.

Two years ago, his friend Bob asked him if he wanted to sell his soul, play pool with the devil and bleed through his pores. At 49, 6”2, bald from hairlines to middle him only wanted one thing before his 50th retirement- honor. Callous, he calculated callous heartedness working as a federal agent the weak minded peeve he was, only catching the small guineas when he wanted to poke and hunt hogs. A strong and bitter in smell and taste accrue enveloped in front of him etching at his inside caused him to wrench over in repugnance. The scents of grilling hog meat hit his nostrils and revolved his tongue out of the settlement of his mouth and rolled out like a swirl of cinnamon into the moist of the air abyss. Feeling it get to him he got up and limped pass the annoyed registered host that suspiciously eyed him entered the men restroom.

He felt the nudge rising like high tide in his throat.  The indigestion of yesterdays late night snack was erecting up out his pipe out into the diner bathroom basin.

Yuck.

He left it unrisen. Septic, like scattered sanitary pads around the inside of the bathrooms sink. He made a clean run for it after washing the waste from off his mouth walls and his dog panting tongue. “Left something for you pal” he felt his eyes wincing menacingly at the under paid butt sniffing clerk who probably inventory each day all the ‘run and go’ stolen things. Take that, he chuckle to himself funnily skipping a steps beat on the flower marble tiles going back to his assigned seat. Perks like this as childish as it was made his day. Grievances for others thrilled the devil out of him. I mean it was a little deserve for the laying the life on the line thing when it came down to the every second count thing. Almost as if he signed up for the bomb squad or something except Mexican drug cartels and his sidekicked corrupted deceitful officials were more of a nerve-racking game he anxiously awaited to play. It came with no perks but attentiveness and separation of all those loved, concubine and defiled from around you.

The boy with the name tag Karl with a K stiffen in posture and pulled on the sleeves for his red jacket white overalls and stared De Frank down before picking up an unring answered phone to a stalled  two way conversion call. 

His gaze adverting , De Frank gives a look over at the corners front window view a seat below where he once sat to see a tough guy seeming to find the outside billowing dust more interesting than sitting all alone unaccompanied inside an allotted dinner.

 His walk stiffens but he still limped as he catches a wind in his breath. His legs borrowing onto the other for strength while clamping onto the diner tile for the support a cane will give but he didn’t let them sing the way he did when he hopped earlier from his blue rusty car to the door of the diner. He recognized the gaudy Mexican colored wear to the bleak context choice of clothing and the protection of sun wear in a barely brightly lithe dinner in the middle of no where. It was his contact.

The man stood behind in the fourth chair. One less than the other he was staked in earlier. His back and head was turn in the opposite direction De Frank head would star in.

 He must have been watching him but from where.

A bit of chill surly went up the spine of Tommy Tony De Frank’s undershirt. He could feel it. Almost like a block of ice on top his chest sulking like a chunk of melted glacier dissolving him, creating a deviation of feelings about going back to his assigned station position. He just could not park his butt up to be shot. He just could not park his butt down to be gut to the heart.

The “what if” lectured now bowel into him. Frozen he just stood sedating and stared. What if? What if his own unit his own people had sold him out? To the wolves to the packs of gunsteres who knew not his face but what he did and how many of them he had set up and killed? What if this was his turn.

Or worst? Some kind of justifying sense of karma coming back to unearth him. What if God had planned this as a clearance of such eradication for a lifetime of wicked deeds?

His heart started up again the vultures crying “baw” in his head again. Where else but in a desert you carry a shovel in the back of your car and get the b*****d isolated and alone to corner him and center him for his own grave. Unmarked. Unnamed. No glory. No stars. No one would know what he’s done and did. How many kidnap victims he’s saved and how many unsolved crimes he’s solved or how much Intel he’s gotten over the past months. He didn’t even have a family to wonder about his misplacement. But then the brown skin guy looks up and he had to keep his composure.  Although he felt he was about to combustible about in his head and pants. He felt like he was going to burst. In this instant the cartel hit man dress like man up then looks away towards the window which meant he knew too it was him. The contact he called this morning. De Frank thought men oh men did this guy played it cool while he on the other hand was a bowel movements about a nervous fitting wreck.

A succession of musical tunes whistle was now lightly whistle through the diner as De Frank in ceasing his procrastination went to the end of the hall to the fifth table that stood a couple of feet away from the women bathroom stall.

De Frank sat down behind the contact even though his heart was bludgeoning him to bloody red, questioning the area, the spot, to why he hadn’t even see the guy sitting in a table across the hall if he was waiting to see his arota first.

He touches his chest.

 His heart was tightly clenching. He drew a short and hallowed breath.

The contact spoke first.           

 “Trust me Mr. Marco I am a simple and bona fide man. One with simple apparel and sense only for the touch of a woman. If you are nervous you can simply calm down. I’m on your side amigos, my friend trust me.”

Jaw unclenching as he tries to relax the fear that ran wildly in his heart De Frank words was quite unaffectionate and numb.

“Who’s this kid?”

De Frank breath was shallow and unfixed.

Again the fledgling looking worker at the register hand picked up this time a ringing call. His eyes still on De Frank, but De Frank unaware of this because his face facing the opposite of the skinny runt.

“Before we begin my new found friend let me just say this you never met me ever heard of me because this thing that I have uncovered runs too deep.”

De Frank could feel his mustache twinkle an inch he first hesitated to but then brush a quick finger under his nose.

“Seems we both uncovered the way things are run in this coup of a country but am more at wits ends with the justice system here. I’m just looking for the boy.”

De Frank was more now composed than ever.

 His arm length unstrapped from his chest now spiral about the little curve bending the 60’s stylish chair to the other end. A rectangle table was station where his food should be if he was ordering.  “Yeah yeah I’m very familiar with the routine. Let’s do this.”  He felt heart throb very like granite in his hand. He wanted to break some bones. He wanted to punch some holes in who so ever were responsible for this kids disappearance. He wanted to tore them apart and buried them in the holes they were burying innocent kidnap victims. He wanted to make them bleed hard. Even though the kid was no American he owed more to this country or any country matter of factly when it came to autocrat outlaws that took full swigs using oppressive methods or any means on their own or any one for that matter who got in their way when it came to making lucrative anarchic business. Someone had to take back order even if it took breaking their back to retrieve it.

You know the thing with what people don’t know will eventually kill them that how it was here. That’s how it was all over where outlaws run around with not the gun in the hoist or holder case but around his waist. How was it that in a country with the only gun shop owned by the military the sons of a gun were able to have more explosive power than the government alone?  De Frank had seen it alright. He already knew the answer to that. The piles of pinas, a Spanish term for grenade and the rocket launchers, the assault weapons to the same artillery the U.S Military used. It was all being smuggled in the same way they smuggled the drugs into the U.S. It was all driven and bought by the contacts here and there. It is like the war on drugs was a simple slack on the back. A seemingly shield of restraint and force to the public. A look of a bias quantity of police squads on almost every street corner when it was a only a mirage, a hallucination. Basically it made the public illusionist. They were witnesses to evidence of things that were a publication of counterfeited truth of an embodiment of lies. To him, the fast and the furious program the United States used to sell and track guns to the deceitful b******s were a joke. Most likely it was turn around on the government in Mexico and used on the U. S agents sent in covertly. Because of the flatulent results it sprawl it was recently ended.

He bite down on his lips when his thoughts  flip to the FBI agent that were recently tortured and whose sliced up boxed body was sent to the office when he had just been promoted from rookie. At one point in his short arrival here that too could have been him.  He turns his mind back to the contact who introduced himself as a flagrant named “Jose.”
“Mr. Marco the kid in the picture that was sent to you is the offspring of a very highly marked man on your list.”

Okay, in this case he is a son of a murderering thieving b*****d he had to beat with his bear hands, go on already.

“A son of a deceased drug cartel.”

“No grains. No.” De Frank lips upturn into a golly gee whizzed snippet.

Sensing the repercussion in De Frank’s voice his last statement because the man made a smear of a grin. “Well at least no one actually seen him died. He didn’t even see it coming. The poor putas was asleep while the U. S federal agents crept lightly around the soil of his manor and ka boom. There went his lights.”

De Frank said nothing. Except the external weirdest feeling like he was tuning into a sports radio show or something.

“His death caused his production commerce to weaken. His fatal demise out of the lucrative drug business on the end did well for another. It caused one of Mexico’s outlawed fugitive hold on more territory to rise.”

“Heard,” De Frank said suddenly frankly “he’s like what a Mexican Pablo Escobar now isn’t he.”

Jose chuckles. “Si. When the Colombian government took out Escobar, their biggest threat it was like there was a big hole. Likewise it caused Guzman to rise in the cocaine industry.”

“Isn’t that like the typical drug b******s story?”

Jose chuckle again. “After the father was killed the mother and the boy moved to Juarez where they tried to get into the U. S but were denied.”

“Really. Like try getting to get a country to take you in after they unmistakably kill your husband for killing one of their own.” He shook his head and thought there was no way that were ever going to happen.

De Frank gives a cold look to the California sun tan lady with the baby in a constructive holster on her chest as they were passing by. “If only you knew” his eyes blared at the woman with the sun bathing tan and California friendly smile. This isn’t a tourist screening country. Get out the burning gates while you still can.

“So why would they kidnap a dead mans boy.” The baby rattles still rattling in his brain. His eyes were still glued on the sign on the womans bathroom door. Feminism came at a different level of respect in this country. When it was mostly the males who barely made it to be 21 in his country, in Mexico woman was more told they were going to be assaulted or go missing.

“Maybe he isn’t dead. Or maybe he is.”

Marco could see that. At least he thinks he could. A powerful drug cartel that is forfeited into early hiding and retirement by the brutal forces out to get him or the small percent of  loyal Mexican police ought to take him more dead than alive fakes his own death to get by in a more sinister or deadlier threat than ever before. But was it possible?

Was it possible the body that was recovered by Dr. Green at the wreckage of a burning mansion burn down by elite task ranger dispatched team by his country to retrieve some kind of dignity or honor and broadcast you just couldn’t sever and killed an agent in such manner and walk away beating your chest like you were the almighty, on New York’s Empire State Building King Kong wasn’t him? What if it was somebody else who weren’t aware that the there was en ambush being entailed and encamped around his manor? Where were the bodyguards? The crazed men with the crazed looking faces?  Or the gun fight that will surely take place if they were closing in on Ghadaffi, the intimidating Libya dictator himself. Was the proof that the infamous Mexican drug cartel admissible as a doctor prescribed pill bottle enough even to swallow? Were there any large quantities of evidence at all to prove to the juror of his peers that this insidious man is dead? Misleading on such a target was injustice for all the horrible damage and cruel acts of violence raged at the peace of people of Mexico, De Frank thought still getting lost in the possibilities that the kid may probably be hanging with his father on some island elsewhere. But what about the mother?

“Kidnapping a child of an official or a profitable business man gets you twice the principal if it was just anyone kid Mr. Marco. I think the kidnappers just thought the widow wife of a billion dollar dead cartel would be plenty payment but then again it could be just a vengeance taken to another level. A vendetta.”

“The only reason to take a dead mans son.” De Frank can hear himself speaking loudly what he was thinking silently to himself.

“When did this happen?” De Frank was out not just for the boys kidnappers now but for the answers to oust the flames blasting fiery in the cell networks of his head.

“At his school last Friday.”

“If today is Tuesday then four days later this kids either dead or buried.”

“Not likely Mr. Marco the ransom hasn’t been paid yet.”

Jose accent is so thick and richen De Frank didn’t comprehend him at first.

“What in the high waters of hells flame did you just told me?”

He can hear the slurping of a thirsty tongue or converting of nervousness to dehydration as the man slurp the water out the glass water on the table in front of him. The man cleared his throat as if to untie the Hispanic ancestry he probably could never get rid of even if he wants to “I said the boys mother hasn’t been called yet about any ransoms.”

So that will means he’s dead. De Frank slightly turns almost into a jump when he hears a truck engine revving full speeding towards his way. He looks out through the glass stainless window in all this dust air to see a truck full speeding towards the parking spot or him.

The man sheepishly grins, “I know only one major clue that’s going to crack this case entirely open.”

“What’s that?” De Frank blinks.

“My son had seen everything?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Al can see it now. He waited a mile long of minutes to see a sunset glowering over the hillsides in the background. He smelt the fresh air. The meadows running flowering shrubs outside the courthouse like small walls to keep out outsiders where they did not belong. He smelt this and took in the sunrise before the smell of crackling flesh sour the moment. Almost in resistance to the unparallel momentum of the sunrise that was begotten to verge on the horizon he then fetched some diesel from the back of Honduras truck and places it in front of a suffering man.

Ah. The man screams were pitiless and fathomless and unheard in the desolate of this place yet neglected to the beauteous of the sun setting over the fact this might be his last breath. Al footed his next step and lean up against the other leg. Somehow this was getting sickening to him. He had been doing this since he was thirteen and thought this was all it was to be a man, to run with the big boys and maybe one day swim in the big ponds with the lawless men that run around making the entire congressional network cower in fear. But all that was left to do for him was to clean up their mess. Or to watch their necks as he was always just seen as the torturous Al. The man to call when the work needed to be done needs to be done. He and Honduras had been doing this for too long his eyes could see. He thoughts so but Honduras saw it another way. And when he came close to giving him an ear full of what Honduras called “the nonsense talk” his childhood friend would only eyed him in a brutish ‘if only looks could kill’ way.

The scene in front him had him swerving and turning his head every few seconds at the beauty of nature. Then he tried to remember how he got here. How did he manage to get out of bed to wake to this? Wild. Animalistic. There they were bestially devouring the life of another human being. He believed man could not take what they did not give yet here he was taking something he couldn’t ever replace. The taste of metal now liquefying in his mouth now made him feel nauseous. His head begins to thump and hurt in a migraine coming on way. Most days he found himself twirling robustly in thought until he smelt blood in his head or until his thoughts got lost in the glowering fear that someone was constantly stalking and following him waiting to crunch like a tiger and pounce to did what he did to others onto him. His heart feeling like it was about to burst began to hurt.

“I did it! I did it!” their prey captured and tortured agonizingly beneath their monstrous claws for hands began to thaw from his quailing lips to scream. “I’m sorry. God I’m awfully sorry.”

The man Spanish accent blurted out to him provably that he was probably of some Central American dissect.

They weren’t burning him yet. At least they weren’t burning him with diesel yet. It was just the smelt of ore burning acidly through the tiny pores on his stomach. Then Al looks at the traitors face which more looks like his. That could be him he thought if he ever left their torturous and maddening establishment. This could be him.

The man held scars of pokes quarter like size holes décor on his face that too were gauged on his stomach.

“Don’t kill me no more. I’m sorry.”

Of course sorry isn’t enough but at least that’s what they were going to tell him to drive him up off the grass willingly into the next location of his place of death.

“Then it’s all good mi amigos.” Honduras unfolds his ungloved hand into the man clenching own.

The tears flowing from the man face seemingly endless mixed even with the blood spattering everywhere made it even more cold-heartily to look at him. But this next to Honduras uncannily smiles as he helps the man up onto his unhinged legs wobbly looks mercilessly.

Honduras throws a foul smelling cloth belonging to another dead victim that were accustom to the mess of things that were skewered on the trucks floor unto his back. He slaps him between the fatty part behind the neck and the shoulder bone before opening the passenger trucks door for him “Get in pal. We’re gonna get you all clean up and parrr-ty.” He shouts into the air lifting one leg between his two arms up in a triumphant ‘hooray’ gesture.

On his way to the driver seat he passes me holding the diesel flashing me the smile I knew too well. “Al what are you waiting for put the diesel down we are not killing this man. He’s sorry.” Which were prettier words to “Al put the can in the back we’re going to lithe this son of traitor to Hades.”

He felt himself moving to the bitter momentum of his friend’s voice and his strenuous hunger for more blood. He jumps to the back of the truck. He looks at the man through the transparent back window as Honduras smile grows menacingly mean while he looks back into the same window to reverse. Was what they were doing right at all? Weren’t this for the same cartels that undermindly kill their same families if they have to. Mercilessly turn around and disturb their state of mind and made their countries current living situation pandemonium that you had no choice to believe that the devil is real even if you didn’t want to. He thought of how scared he felt as a boy. How he would watch lines of people with hands tied behind their back lithe on fire and burn in the streets for the whole city to see the cartels meant business. He bowed his head in sudden sodomy and began to toy with his hands the way feeling the need to report crimes as a child toyed with his mind. Over time the police were bought and the government overpowered had to save the lives of them and their families. It was all understood. His country had become a dog eat guts world and a shark infested tombs of dead children and Sodom.

 

Chapter three

This country have become the face on the milk cartoon for the disappeared and the missing Lt. Hernandez thought kissing his lips unto a fragile small cup of tea. He sips the last drop and gently rests it onto a small plate to keep it from staining his desk. A father had just came to report his daughters Sunday night disappearance and was turned away without much help.

He knew the truth though. He knew. His lips still kissing the bottom lip. His lips are sealed mostly frighteningly as if he was the fragile cup of tea. He knew if he did anything much about anything he would become the last drop of its cup contents. His arthritis arm raised and his fingers tried to unclamp his lips then next his tongue like a dead mans cleaving to the bottom of his mouth. Speak.

“Mr. Hernandez. Mr. Hernandez.” Rare but not unlikely a female officer with patted hands to the sides of the belt around her petite waist stood at his office door.

He made it his duty to remember every female officers name as the chief and Lt of the cities heartland station. He wanted to inspire the women with the respect he show. He wanted to keep them engrossed and not have it the other way around. Truth was he didn’t know what kept them or anybody of the matter here. They were outnumbered and not conversant when it came to archiving the crime waves that kept sweeping them as toy soldiers on around on a shallow sandy shore before the deep plaguing waters. Even with the pay grade and the minimum men on arms he wanted to aspire courageous availing hearts to preserve and stricken tear gases where the men failed to endeavor. In the public eyes the police weren’t doing their jobs, possibly covetously bought for a higher wage by the same men they were reporting crimes against and more than likely they were. He knew it too. He was one of them.

It didn’t happen voluntarily at first although if looking in up close you’ll think you see things that way but things fail to seem larger up close when appeared. It was seemingly different when he thought of it.

He always aspired to be a cop. He by no means took liken to gangs and only favored mostly on bringing them down but crime overpowered his country. First it started with threats, then acts of vile terrorist acts he called them then savage behavior almost like cannibalism he’d ever seen then recently the blowing up of official cars. Things were becoming like the other country Colombia. These b******s had to be stop but how. He knew. Everyone knew. When he found out most of the men assigned to him who pledge to perforate the uprising of such vileness took uprooted right in his station he grew frozen to fear. And the first time he tried to shift and change things from deterring everyone even senators called him. They warned him.

Soon he too was wearing cartel money clothing and using his baytobues to his own to repress and oppress them than to cease the wickedness spruning from glooming its vague head in his garden. Now he only looks forward to sip tea. It tastes like bitter blood though. The innocence lost blood he knew haunted him only seeking what every violated man deserve. JUSTICE.  But he knew as well as anyone knew such travesty were not welcome here. These blood stained plains were shadowed forever. It was best left now the way it is.

“Si Ms Garcia what’s the matter?”

“The man is back about the girl but this time with two U.S agents. What is it you want me to tell them?”

His eyes betrayed him “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute. Usher them into the next room I just need to make a phone call.”

The door closes behind her.

He wanted to say there is nothing he could do. If the girl had been missing for some time now she was probably already dead. Now the persistent unrelenting father of the girl was back for round two. He probably wants nothing but to make this bigger than it already is. Make it tabloid maternal, media propaganda and butchered meat for the external.

Chief Hernandez made the phone call quick then pick up the little golden star on his desk right between the pile of papers and the picture of his wife and daughter and went to face the music.

 

The father looks more edgy than when Lt. Hernandez had last seen him. The father looks more zombie than when he had first walk in hours ago not days freshly off the plane. Lt. Hernandez walks slowly up to the table and pull out a chair. In a more intensified seriousness than needed he sat across

The table to extreme shrew glares from the two agents. The atrocious behavior grips firmly on his broaden shoulders as he greeted the thrust of negative energy with almost a silent sour vigor.

“Lt. Hernandez, Agent Mercer and Agent Russworth.” The wave capped red hair one took Lt. Hernandez hand first before they shook then took a seat.

Mr. Voguer voice was far from composed as it trembles as his stare misplace the hatred he had for Lt. Hernandez and the Mexico City. “Let me just say my daughter is alive with life, resplendent with joy and awash with exultation when I had last seen her. But nonetheless she is a good person. She cares about people and about things most people would take a second glance to notice. And she’s missing and believe me,” he rose his eyes more demented to Hernandez “I will find her even if it takes sacrificing my very subsistence of life. I will give anything to have her.” The man touches his jowl that judders a bit around from side to side then rest his blurring drunken colored eyes back down to look at his old wrinkly and clammy hands. It looks as if someone had iron them there for him. Told him not to move or he will be shot to the head.

“As any father could imagine I trust you are adhere at how Mr. Voguer is feeling especially now to know nothing is being done about his daughters’ disappearance.” The oceans wave cap hair agent spoke first.

The Lieutenant maxilla bone drop open a slice across his lips. He tried to speak but his eyes only skid the situation beheld that have befallen before him.

“Ms. Voguer was last seen leaving the hotel on Saturday at 11am before she called her father and told him she was going to see some show. Then on 2pm you’re time she heads into a local store before heading down another street. Some kids said they saw a fellow in a brown shirt following her. Are you on board now?” the red haired agent toying with the black leather gloves on his fingers. “A brown uniform. A police state uniform. Then,” he slowly let the words press together out his mouth before lifting his head to meet the lieutenant while slowly lifting the glove off one hand. “That’s your police.”

Antithetically the tension in the room fell below zero. Stillness invigorates the installment of the last said words and the absence of acknowledgment angrier Mr. Voguer.

Mr. Voguer pepped up from his fetal position sitting in the chair across from the lieutenant smashes his hands down in a crush like manner against the table. “Speak, you spook, so God-cometh!”

But Hernandez couldn’t. He can not understand how the men were actually holding him litigable for what had happen. I mean he was somewhat held there. That was the only thing arguable. That he was the chief, captain, and lieutenant given the job everybody else didn’t want. They were too fool proof not to consider, to dare or to do so. The stripes on his jacket should have been marked out in the color of reddish dye. Acumen for blood.

“We are very aware of the way things are run down here. Very aware of the things so far out done to cover up certain sins. But I’ll let it ideate I’m a little bit of a sinner too, myself, sometimes.” The red haired agent pulling on a card from out his jackets pocket let his tongue lither to the corners of his mouth before sneering on a creepy simper.

The rest of the men stood up in a three are a crowd manner right after the red haired. The red haired creepy simper agent gives his card to the Mexican lieutenant.

The red haired eyes suppressed the authoritarian in the lieutenant almost domineering. “Sometimes it takes a bit coaxing and the slitting of the guts that leads a man to confession. I hope it doesn’t take that long for you to admit the sinner in you.” Agent Mercer words sounded lissome escaping the grin that high jacked the mean scoff he had when Hernandez first came in. 

He tips off his hat. Then open the door for Mr. Voguer and the Agent Russworth and turn leaving his grimaced words leading bureaucratically on Lt. Hernandez’s mind.

When he found himself alone he touched his throat and asks himself if he had let anything croak. Did he betray the company he had been voucher into? If his eyes did there will be hell to pay. He is sure.

 

Since the meeting everything to Hernandez seems a bit too overbearing. He felt as if he were being followed.

His throat kept going dry.

It parched as he tried to speak to the men blocking his way in front of his police jeep.

“Move out. Move out. Get out of my way.” He called in Spanish, beeping his horn and moving his hand in a bugaboo gesture to the crowd of boys.

Chickens flew out hands and arms and out across left out tables of dry fruits and goods. The owners squabble words with the boys as they run carelessly into another direction. Another woman that is walking with her hands cupped in a child’s tiny hands stops to help pick up the fruits.

They nod a notice to each other before departing and Lieutenant Hernandez thinks that is how everything in life should be. Happy. Accommodating. Instead of the hallowed end of a stick given to him and his people for solidity.

Unethically he didn’t want to do such misleading deeds against his own but sometimes the earth broke apart when it shook and men fell in to become the stones of that fecundate the very life of the general public. It didn’t have to be though. People didn’t have to get caught up in the crossfire if things were under control. Some in the government say legalize it but glorifying criminality wasn’t his standards to living. It shouldn’t be after all the bloodshed and so many casualties that the men who they stood to fight to stop the flow of violence and illicit behavior were to go free with a slap and a product fee. He agreed something needed to be done but no, not this way.

Out of the blue a burst of bullets from an automatic weapon crisp the air followed by piercing screams alarming Lieutenant Hernandez.

He stops his vehicle. Turn about his body to the side and reach into the dashboard for his weapon but before he could unlevel the safety off a bandit gunmen run up to his face.

His swallowing is hard. The thickness serving him was a glimpse inside the automatic barrel. It was uncertain and dark like the next turning of events that became to elapse and take place. 

“Get out. Get out.” The banded gunman shouts in Spanish.

Hernandez hands goes up into the air for refugee to keep the man from shooting as he removes his seatbelt. His hands up in the air he gets out of his car. Fear begins to insure into his most innermost parts. Into his most innermost parts he fell to terror throughout the gallantry he once thought he possesses.

“Get out and onto the ground. Get onto the ground.”

Hernandez closes his eyes. His wife face sings in front of him. Her voice calls out to him. Her smile held him.

A moment pass and he open his eyes to see if it were all a bad dream. His wife voice now shrieks to a long adhering scream. It isn’t. Now more men with machetes and guns are running out the back of a truck. He knew this had to be of the missing girl. He knew. This is his last thought before he felt a blow to the back of his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

There came a banging noise that startle Agent Kemper. Quickly she rose off her beach house hammock and reached in the slightly oppression in the spot of sand beneath the hammock and pull out her pistol before then spiraling onto the sand. She fell unto her stomach and held aim.

Her crystal blue eyes held focus at the darkness of the moonlight shadows casted almost by everything. From the ______ trees that abided by the walk way before the coral sand and the turned off light poles on sides of the brick houses that led dangerously into the ____ air streets.

“Hip Hip Hooray.” She can hear intruding into her peaceful solace of solitude from the few bars and ____ taco and burger shops down the street. “Happy New Years!” before a fiesta of fireworks burst up into the midnight air

Still this didn’t answer what or who caused the sound of distortion in her normally felt out routine and undercover life. Easing off her stomach her ankles smudge against the stand before her toes raises the heels axis of her foot and lightly paces of trodden steps crunched slowly.

She was open she knew this. The wide space give whoever is hidden behind the veil of night better focus, ______ ground to shot first and deadly wound.

“Cover your heart and eyes.”

She can hear the words of her instructor rousing her about.

“Keep aware that you’re the prey and the predator has better ground. His advantage is what caught you off guard”

Her heart pound but fearless she tried to remain. Agent Kemper drop down swiftly. She took the mind of a predator instead of herself as the objection lost in obliviousness and in desolation.  Short glances made her head swerve; her neck turn towards the driveway lost in the dim lithe starry heavens disarray.

Everything looked pretty dark.

Her balance strayed she thought as she eyed her black motorcycle before her sight fade into the traces of the darkness.

Bouncing back unto her heels, she licks the side of her mouth and made an unheard cover for behind the green trashcan. Next to it a small generate were generating a sharp knocks of noise humming veraciously into the canals of her ears before she could jump up and make a break for the handle of the slide door a gust of wind run out of her before her tumbling onto the floor.

“That’s why you’re just a rookie.” Harper scented cologne possessed the ocean air. She turns to see him standing 5’’9 in a Hawaiian shirt and a smear of a taunting grin just above his scarred chin.

“That’s why you almost got yourself killed.” Kemper jumped to her feet and raised her right leg in a karate high kick faltering an inch back from his face.

Harper raised his large palms in a defensive manner just about the length of his shoulder blades. “Ooh Ah.  I’m strikingly terrified of some Agent Bureau babe.” Before erecting over in laughter with his arm diagonally across his muscular abdomen.

Agent Kemper raised her hands to her waist and looking at the clown show in front of her. “I could kill you.” Her voice only appalls Agent Harper before he surged to the sands on the floor. “Eat that for humor.” Kemper humph at him in haughty breath before wallowing back into her den.

Inside the kitchen the two sat on high barstools on either side of the two ceiling lamps above their heads. The beautiful cutter stone garlanded the oven left of them Kemper barely bake in. okay hardly ever baked in because mostly she preferred take outs with her clients__________.

“Dr. Green is back in town.” Agent Harper crunch on the cubes of ice left over in his glass.

“Yeah. So what’s new?”

“Said he’s going to be taken down the operation from inside out and that you should be tying up loose ends now.”

A flash flicker behind Kempers blue eyes. “Too radical extreme at the moment. Trust me Harper when I say this.” She narrowed her lips when she says this and dims her eyes down “Too much heat on my end.”

Her cheeks bluffed now. It puffs like it was some cousin to a blow fish.

Harper can see the frantic frustration developing in stormy cloud bits behind her demurring gaze.

“Fredo. Fredo. He even thinks I work for the feds and jeez you know what” her one arm elapses up into the air space between them, “I do.”

“And that’s all I’m thinking, that’s all I’m thinking yesterday when they called me into one of their green houses up in the mountain side.”

One of Kempers hand forms a gun and she trains it on him before placing it to the back of her head. “They were going to put a bullet in the back of my head.” Kemper blow out a steaming breath that needed to be release from somewhere deep inside.

She was petrified and figured the fixtures of muscles contracting slightly on Agent Harper’s face said he have notice it in her demeanor too.

Still she continues. “I’m gonna freaking die Harper. I’m gonna die right here in this filthy green room, on the other side of the freaking mountain where not even the police seems to venture even those on El Dorado’s payroll will dare even report my body. You hear me? Nothing but a hot bullet and a shallow grave in the dirt. No ones will ever find me. You hear me? No one. Not even you Harper. Not even Green.”

“O- Kay.” Harper lips spread thinly across his face. It smeared. “I’m disappointed.”

“Why?”

“You’re one of our finest agents and in all the time we’ve worked together I’ve never seen you…”

“I know. Crack under pressure. I know.”

When Kemper gets up to move she felt a twisting and hardening of something in her chest.

Was it all getting to her now? Was the pressure really intensifying that it almost became impossible to escape? It wasn’t like it was back at home. Here it is different everyone on her team agreed.

It wasn’t like playing cops and robbers. It became more than just outsmarting criminals’ greedy intellect and tracing the route of the direct source. This is the real thing. What any agent were training for. Getting to role play with the big boys and rub shoulders with the worlds most wanted that were able to exempt the authorizes for years and every day of every minute her palpating heart reminded her how closer to apprehending them she were. But every agent knew everything came with a price.

She sighed. Gather the other glass from Harper and Kemper threw both of the glasses under the sink into the dish washer and closed her eyes and breathe in deeply.

Her muscles pushing closer to her heart, squeezing tightly drawing from her extra quaint and quiet breaths, hurt her needlessly.

“Relax Agent Kemper you are going to be fine. You have been here so long that making a split decision by now comes naturally for you. If anything ever happens you know me and the other team watching will close in swiftly.

“But you haven’t seen these men killed. They’re vicious. Like unsedeated animals on __________ or something. I mean- just last week they burned a man right in front of me.”

 Her eyes widen.

Her heart raged on and misses its beat. She bit down unto her tongue then tap the center of her palm down onto the kitchen sink before backing up into Harper’s arm.

Her voice broke again when Harper turned her around to face his. Her teeth were chattering now. Her jaw line clenching tightly he could feel her growing sickening in his grip before she rises her eyes again to meet his.

She wanted to speak but her lips only quivered in the numbness of a bitter crave. It was soft and low almost like a small craft humming over a grassy plain. “It’s like…It’s like there not even human.”

A tear drop fell into his hand as his thump wipe the sensitivity away.

But he still didn’t know what it felt like to taste the fear of danger. The adrenaline rush of death stalking your every move. The short breaths that becomes grave and shallow, unresponsive to the heart. He still didn’t know what if felt like to go dancing with wolves.

 

To take longer than usually to do something, that’s how it was feeling. After he left the woman he admirable had a crush on house he felt compel to tell her but her crying made his knees buckle and made his hands touch her glossy face. Her tears felt like antiques. It was glass he couldn’t afford to let touch the floor or break.

As a result, he spends most of his nights literally talking to himself engaging in a war of words.

A heave of breath causes his chest to rise.

He was sitting in his black sedan parked on the side of the curve Agent Hailey Kemper’s house was resolved. It was past midnight and he linger in the dark waiting and watching like an owl for intruders and sent assassins but mostly for his own containment of himself. He needed to know she is safe. He wanted to know that her work did not cut throat her literally. Standing guard at her well fare became his nightly and daily compulsive obsession. He felt the bolts in his head turning coherently and ghastly when it came to Hailey Kemper. Rotating on its axis overridingly on any maximum capacity almost sending him loony for this woman who has no clue his heart plunged deeply every time he saw her. He did not want to tune her into his true feelings though about the way he felt about woman joining the bureau. He felt like woman should be home cooking and cleaning and seeing about the kids. They did not belong in the work force. In conclusion he felt she could not handle herself. Despite all the best training and the extras she were included in before they were deploy out to the frontlines of another country. At another period of time when he first learn that a woman would be joining them on their special assignment task he was let down and angry. Felt like all the cores were softened and alleviate. All the secretive things and learned positions pertaining to the dangerous ground they were about to trod were water down with the presence of a feminist being. Touching his clench jar now he chuckle funny how a woman touch could change things.

Then something caught in his throat he grab his crutch and pulling on the ole nasty cold spat it right out onto the ground. That was where it went. All his coldish feelings and the moment that he had just let slip through like a war criminal in his hand slip timely and murkily out his chest out his window and out of his life on the patch of dirt curdling beneath the tires of the automobile. He turns on the ignition and drove slowly over the coastal clear on the streets other side. He grabs the gun from off the passengers’ seat and exit with a fright.

“Put the bomb down.”

The man cringing didn’t see it coming. He was tuning for tunes on his radio when Agent Harper had seen him. What caught him off guard was in the position he held the brown box packed of wires up in the windows view blocked his sight as his head bow to turn the radio to cultural likens.

The man cursed in Spanish.

“You sons of a deserts cactus you, you won’t be killing tonight.”

Then he felt the revolver rotate and his surge of impact that blow out instantly and c**k the man on the side of his neck. A chunk of skin and veins were left splatter onto his lap still seated in the cars seat.

He wasn’t planning on killing the man. It just happened. He heard himself repeating over and over as Agent Hailey Kemper came rousing out flying as the theory that “angels have wings.”

 

You weren’t surprise when someone from behind stark stalk himself up upon you without you noticing. It was a crisis. He had just shot a man in the center of rows houses that may or may not have ears for the bad men they were hunting. You just couldn’t hear the footsteps silently crushing down the freshly cut mowed grasses if the ringing of being a meter too closes to a fracture of gunfire that had just gone off had conflict your hearing. Then most certainly the women he secretively loved had his eyes and senses now strictly attentive on her suckling all the energetic force from out him. How could he?

Her startle eyes is what had alarm him as he spun to work his trigger finger but his inattentiveness seconds before give his footed ground a less advantage as he could feel himself slipping life, light, air and consciousness. The forbearing for an altitude took him hunger as his body hit the pavement floor.

“You move you thrifty b” the man point his rifle at Agent Hailey Harper. A glow left her and the gust of wind that left her took her subdue and seductively to the floor too. This time her hands in motion in nonresistance to the spiraling events that latter out before her startle blue eyes. “I’ll blow your fringing brains out on your friend here.”

The riffle holding bandit said before kicking Agent Harper’s side and then billowing out a call into his walker talkie.

“Got the lying” his words the spell out the terms of a female dog before he nudged his gun in the direction her back laid bare open graveness of the blind side. “Go get going to the truck now!” Hailey Kemper eyes dance like lightly colored flames of a campfire beneath darken skies on the motionless body of Jacob Harper before heeding to the commands of whose hands her life were in now. A strong sharp unpleasant taste taken her mouth hostage abound her as she turn around thrusting herself towards the truck. Once again the taste of danger aroused and the there were no one to alert.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The light turns to darkness and leaves irony as the once crude taste of sugar like hell stains on the bowels of his soul’s core. The pieces of conversations came back to him. Haunting him it did, like the woman of his dream he preferred to feel a wretched sense over than to give up ‘the nothingness to lose’ phase part of his job.

What a waste,” he blow out a rushing sigh and ran his one hand through his hair and try to shook out of him that what was evoking the presence of the woman after all these years still seem like sea salt to him.

Dead.

That’s how he chose to remembered now. How he chose to remember the contents of her face. The sugary touch of sense she’ll give when her hand brush against his skin.

 Yep.

It all felt like dirt now. A memory of a decade lost of ecstasies rush. That’s how she made him felt. The first time he ever intake and ache, needing a woman to make him feel alive. Her love a drug that made him high.

He shook his head side to side as the car vroom east onto the dirt road left of the diner to desist from the hungering for her. It is all he could have whole heartily done to avail himself from the ache that took, incarcerate and enslaved his groan.  

His contact Jose and him had find the spurning engine truck rushing too fast into the diners parking lot leaving dust tracks in its seconds past trail were onto them as it parked itself right in front of their meet and greet. They condensate their words then only speaking of the next location they were going to meet and left. De Frank still had more questions hazily buzzing around in his head though. He still wanted to know more about the mother and probably the fathers operation and contacts. Something weren’t quiet right. Something did not fit. Surely she had to know these men. The contact said when the two hulk looking men were walking up to the boy she just stood there almost disrupt in present and thoughts and just let the goons steal her son away. Right in the middle of the day. Right in the front of school with teachers, other parents and buses full of kids. She just stood frozen in time and fear and let them.

What sense did that make? Pieces of the puzzle felt like it was disengaging when he said the father was a dead cartel then the mother just leaving them taking her son away. He tried to make any out of it when he remembers seeing the white trailer bejeweling in the distance as he sparked miles earlier to meet the contact. There was some empty parked trailer there. He wanted to take a look see. Maybe it was a sick sense of a belief to believe the kidnappers would kidnap such a prize and leave him all alone unarmed. Yeah right. But still he wanted to suit the buggers in his mind pulling and tucking at his thoughts. Even bet him self the kid was in some other safe house in the mountains or in the caving hills highly gunmen entourage.

He can see it now. The yellow mercury clouding about before his headlights as he feed his car dust bugs and miles. He looked dangerously pale. His skin lost in temperature and weight. De Frank hadn’t eaten in days. He was a man running from fears and nightmares and hounds, ghouls and ghost tales. His red eyes itches him as he raises his hand to itch the spot above his eyelashes. He knew he was wanted. His meeting with death was coming.

His car speedily race through the fog. It bump and hit a patch of dirt before pressing hard down on the gas he took a quick glimpse at the gas gauge and saw the least expectations of his worries when his mind scorched on other things. The desert sand stretched for another quarter of a mile when he came to a taillight of a distant away. Time reveal the whiteness in the heat. The disclosure of a possible fugitive or dope hides out of a white trailer divulged into the sequence of things. He peer his eyelids down crushing his full view of things as his bodily form pressed forward unto the windshield.

He was this much into it; he was this much into his work. When it came to pedaling and pushing kids around like dope this is where he felt the hand of lawless men who infiltrated  dark rings of pedophilic hounds and whorehouses smelt of virginal blood and innocent were to go emissary with a steel toe boot and iron hands and tear the insignificant founds of life apart. To him it wasn’t crossing the line but preserving the benevolence, the prehistoric matter of mankind progression of life and to stabilize the mental imagination from venturing thus outside the walls of the humanitarian compassionate part if ever had any. Someone had to bend, beat down and welt with wails the animalistic nature of the b******s of perversion whose lines were to be disrupted and destroy than to be permitted to deflower not prohibited in the lives of our world. And somehow De Frank knew that someone did not need to be told to but would on impulse when come across. He was a hard man but not a man of involuntarily slaughtering emotions but a man nonetheless. Hell to bear for the b******s or him to take down. Every child needs a teddy bear or a mother’s nurturing breast. That’s how he saw things pervasively.

De Frank reaching grabs the crowbar from the inside of his toolbox behind his passengers seat open the car doors and exit with the straining limp bulging on the back of his legs muscles. His walk is faulty but he refuses to let the case of the missing kid be as he tried to open up the pad lock on the trailers door.

It frees.

He feels his heart release a pulsate beat.

Something indulges him. Something possessing him acquires what it was behind this door.

The door flanks widely open. It just flew open by the gust of wind that just whisks it out of De Frank’s hand.

He felt something in his chest knot. His ambition hardening; the dark brown Mexican mustache he has managed to grow twittering. His hands felt a snort of crackling fire racing through his veins. He felt as a diabetic man.

Then maddening, he took the weight of the crowbar and using the back of it beat and crush the old rusted hinges off. Everyone passing needed to see it. Everyone passing needed to see.

There was blood on the floor. Fresh. Pure. And innocent smelling blood. It isn’t clear whether it belonged to the kid or somebody else he just hoped neither.

He vowed to whoever did this there would be hell to pay he was sure as he threw himself back behind the wheel of his almost empty Cadillac and made waves towards the last destination of the kid. He needed to think like a coyote in order to track one. But first he needed to get to a gas station essentially and fast.

 

Okay first there were new rules to the game- to defy. There were absolutely no bargaining and the reward for the either, death came at certain. You weren’t hunting coyotes, hounds and wolves to just play in the dark. You were there to take down a massive threat to your camp and survival or to scrape the meat off his bones. De Frank did not see it any other way. This way he would know no one is to be trusted not even his new fond friendly contact. Anything psyche-wise was admissible.

He brakes.

The car takes a swig then swings into the intersect lane before down another lane to turn left up into the gas station right behind a free tank.

Anyone who can see De Frank can see he is a no nonsense man. Man who would only mess with sensible matter or nothing at all. He burped up some hog sweat digestion he inhale earlier into a cuffed fist brimmed at his lips. Looking up into the rear view mirror he touches his mustache with the pinky and thumbs of one hand and let it loose and surf on the beard hairs of his upper lip.

Something fishy was going on. The mirror told no lies as he played with his mustache his eyes held another object fondle in obsession behind his disguised gaze. Something is going on and it didn’t take long for him to figure the puzzle did not fit right.

There are three of them. There are three cars that had pre-orderly been on his tale since the diner and the other two when he had exited off the dust road back onto the highway. Like the truck at the diner the owl has been ogling his coup.  He was being watchful and tailing his prey. De Frank played his cool and slide on his shades, reaches for a breath refresher and ousted out the door of his car. Out the sides of his eyes he saw the men bulging muscles and thought well gosh they have to be awfully strong before limping into foot his cash gas.

He grabs a liter, an extra small container to pour extra gas and paid cash.

“Gracias.”  He mounts a thank you in Spanish to the lady at the register and saw one of the men that were pumping gas into one of the cars behind him in the corner of the store hawking him. He pleases the lady with a smile but it was actually meant for the b*****d with the hooligan looking face.

He limps to the tank and pumps his own gas first into the small container then into the back of his gauge. He let things mellow as he leans his self up and cross arm his fatty muscles up against the rear end of the car beside the gas gauge and slightly turning his jaw bone blow a mean exhalation noisily into the direction of the hounds.

Their eyes still train and transfixed with reference to him De Frank touches the elbow and then the crown of his head. An itch. Nervousness. He knew it could not be afforded in this time.

There. The numbers stops crazily spinning and finally ceases. He hops back into the car and slams the door. Starting the ignition he presses his foot down forcefully on the gas and sped dog hungrily at the madness he felt himself spiraling into. Hell had better make room for him or the lost souls he is about to be taking there too.

The cars reeve and roar behind him as they rolled down in a single line down a road. He was welcoming them into their death. His mind deplored human life when cunningly wickedness was taking place. It needed to be done. Just like jailing encaged atrocity of violence was once too the answer but the statics just kept gradually eventually growing. Like twain, these men weren’t going to quit at least till they had him engulfed in flames and acidly cook to charred bones in a pick and roll barrel.

Waxing hot was the metal clinging to the side of a hot steel of something under the hood of his car. De Frank can hear it and felt the oldness of the Cadillac tasteless appeal get to him. The bolts unhinging were letting loose into the bareness of the street as the lineage of cars sped and exempt through time unarrested. With his hand on the loosely shuddering wheel he using the other free arm pulls opens the ash tray and helped his crave to another cigar. Something to hold everybody, his were his nerves and arthritis.

Up a head was a little town within a town where most things were left alone. Involuntarily abandon due to heavy trafficking and the perceptive heavens asylum blessed elsewhere. The road leading into the adjacent of buildings plagued on both sides of the immediate road running along in the center of it all.

De Frank blew out a ring.

Truth be told as cool as he appeared sometimes in the narrowed demeanor he pulled in probability of circumstances, he wasn’t. As of the moment the cars behind him assail his heart became weary and overcome. He knew as well as it knew he was on the verge of doing something impalpable stupid. But that’s the kind of man he were. One who took chances and in most times were averse to find himself still standing below a flock of crows.

He shifted gears first high then low causing the car to sprung out of control and around in a cyclone. Because of the rate the car was going it began to toss it around in a whirlwind of velocity before De Frank shifting again somehow got it back onto the straight. The cars still trailing behind now edged closer to hit its bumper. But seeing what is being done De Frank rush into an ambush of bullets.

Soon unmasked gunmen stood align in the street before the causeway of cars happens to intrude the fulfillment of the arrangement to fill the baby blue Cadillac with a hail fire of shells. De Frank gripping the cross hanging from the car keys chain run right into the halo of bullets now bludgeoning into the sides of his car. He had seen them though black suited men heavily armed flanking out from the hidden to the sides of the street. But feeling luck is his brink he put the pedal more than ever to the meddle and duck, drove and dive into deaths digestion incinerating the blue metal bodily arm of his car he bought the first day he hit Mexico’s blood thirsted soil.

A collision occurred when all hope was lost and they thought he, De Frank is death. Better to I.D the body than to make such serious assumption especially when it came to a rival who wanted nothing but to see you bled. The blood rings around his pupils called out to death but how serious can it have been if he wasn’t hit.

Had he survive this thing?

He were only drunken with wakeful fright. Jitters transcendently ran through the entity of his body. He felt his head wonder at the thought of after life or the sleep after death. Of all the contemplating things that had diverted his mind he felt himself wheezing cold as he reached for the liter and kissed the loathing for such goodbye.

Yes. He had kissed the gloom of death yet survives its brinks somehow.

Now for the finale he fined himself starving for the exhaustion that was about to ablaze. A sound of sweet vengeance croaked through the tightly space in his throat “suck this.” He loathed to the nuisance of irritated pest behind him. They were running up to the rear of the bullet shredded Cadillac and boy were he ready for them this time.

There was a cloth in the back seat of his car. He picks it up and the small jug of diesel in the footed space of the Cadillac’s back seat.

He dips it in. Coughing De Frank undetectable open the drivers door and snaps the liter flames on.

“To hell with you b******s.”

Then an explosion unite the unsympathetic with the dead from the unearthed and the spoilage  of the wreckage became the moment and moment became the hour that death captivated in fixation released him from its clasp.  De Frank still marked but liberated became a freeman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Brutish bricks, which are the way De Frank, described the school in front of him. It became clear that either he is at the wrong address or his contact, the man named Jose he met back at the diner was lying to him. Whichever, through sucking air through a pack of straws for life was a handed down charge to the man if even he is a liar or decoy.

A solid stare unearthed the ground before him as he stared right across the charred run down building into an empty sandbox of play pen for kids. The park had a still squirting fountain and shinning new plastic rocking sea horses and a few rust-free swings. He notices the step-up isn’t right.  If the school is burned down and charcoal dust staining walls marble all the way down to the melted and tarred dried floor then the outside should look rather pathetic, right. The mess looks to him like it has been around for a while. Uncared for with no mechanics; hardly surveyed of any maintenance, it just sits quirkily unfunded to rebuild.

He runs his hands across the handles of the monkey bars while he walked over to the end of the sand box. He looked out pass the hazardous demolition onto a new dirt road. Not long he fined himself walking up the dirt path to take a look see. All the while his hands formed in creases of knuckles fold into a decree him thrusting himself further into a dense wood, saved for the son of a traitor who would soon be sucking the blood off his skin peeled bones.

Then an impenetrable sound ossified into the canal of his ears. A bright yellow and green tailed bird flew out from a low hedging plant saddle on the right side of his vision. It startle him as he jump adverting his body to the left into a turning like position before an ox handle became clearly thrown pass him almost cleaving half his upper limb and only settling for the piece of his torn sleeve. The ox fell into a trunk of a thick tree before De Frank’s eyes can be retrieve from looking at his sharpen blade.

His eyes bulge open. Widely now, because he did not see the ox coming. Frantically he looks around to see which direction it had been thrown before someone in a green overall came into prospect.

The crazed ox throwing man was probably 4’9 with exception that he looks Chinese De Frank got when the man holding up a finger in the open air as in ranking the number one open his mouth to speak “You and me have business to attend.”

He said first pointing to his chest then De Frank and level out the ground before them. He walks up closer.

“Oh Yeah.”  De Frank answers in a kindly manner assuming the position before on the skulk of a karate style attack.

The Chinese man just smile and lied in the waiting.

“I’m going to use your bones for supper.” A creepier smile smears across his round face.

“You first have to take my cramped foot out your rear end.”

De Frank rush across the trees shook autumn leaves and strike the first blow.

The target easily uses his small body to leverage and speedily move out the way before gripping De Frank from the side. Squeezing his shoulder bones between his two thumps and fingers he threw his prey across the forest halls and into the trunk of a tree before landing a karate style foot into his face.

Feeling the red hot string of pain from the struck surging through tendons in his face using his palms flattening hard onto the forest dirt floor he lifts his body weight.  Once up he turns his head frenetically to all sides before hearing the gust of a force wind from an upward swift motion and look up pass a tree trunk to see a midget balancing flying off the tree branch. The thrust of another hard blow into his head made his body waver giddily beneath a small halo light shone forth from a crack in the tall sky stretching along both sides like a shrub of hedge like trees.

“I’m gonna crush your guts.” De Frank standing giddily swaying drunkenly in a stature as if he was a planet orbiting around the sun. his mind twirling crazily as he tried the find the annoying whinny sound of the punk who fly kick him to his head and face.

“Ah. Ha. Ah ha. But first you have to catch me.” a voice called out from the nature of things De Frank only got that sense when he look about and saw the short shrimp no where.

His heart tightening, he felt his oxygen leaving his body more causing the violent crush of his muscles against his heart. It caused it to contract faster than it actually should. Breathing in and out his lungs burn but he tried to stand focus. Straitening his shoulders up him released his hand from off his chest and gaze instinctively into the shades of the trees. The moon kept his mind tired as he let out a deep sigh then started running in a strait path through the forest ground. A whisk of leaves were left shattering in scatters in less than seconds as he focus at the end of the tunnel of the dense forest trees. There was a halo of moon light circulating illumination from the darkness. It was all he sought. A clear find of enlightenment from the exudations of the night’s dark.

“You cheater,” He heard a voice from behind call. Then that’s when he heard it again a whisk of whirlwind spiraling in a formation of a cloud of rainstorm engulfed him. “Eat Kung Fu.”

De Frank was a fast learner. He knew the move too exactly for just a minute ago it was use to sneak attack against him and almost rapture his hearts vessels into a pandemonium of a bloody mess inside his chest cavity. Almost in swift motion he using his knowledge of martial art for his next motives for his present signature style move jump whisky into the air abruptly turning about his body 360 degrees rested one of his legs against a thick coated tree trunk and assailed for the b*****d that had it coming.  

Their eyes met then bruises subsided and they collided with a velocity of a stricken vigor.  The Chinese man couldn’t believe it but De Frank could. He had seen it before. And he knew though faster the shrimp would not be able to withstand the crush of his body steadfastly overcoming upon him. De Frank stood looking at his predatory skills ravage and razed diminished upon and laid desolate and broken boned and felt less his toes did recumbently tasting the sourness of defeat on the forest floor.

De Frank dusts his shirt back before arching his back and headed to the moon lithe path that led into a paved one-way street.

“I’ll refurbish myself and finish you.” the defeated one straining to lift his head said. His eyes beckoning for De Frank not to turn his back on him, eyes twittering his voice only peaked as a bird chirrup. He was finish.

De Frank could not believe what he was hearing or what he was saying. It all feels as if reading a comic book or watching a Kung Fu movie. He felt like the student turning its back on a deceitful master. Using everything he taught him as a vultures prey that swiped down and took apart its prey by blind sided efforts that he had been calculating all along on his preys weakness. First to at least pass the class but then after vouching securing evidence that the man was an inadequate piece of snake that did awful things relinquish of his skills after confrontational it sparked then De Frank had ousted him.

“And I’ll be awaiting your arrival.”

In time seasons began and close. It reverts and preempted things that coincidentally or predominantly variedly approach. We learn things we shouldn’t and in thus appreciate the giving of the lessons without the actuality of the loosing of preeminently something belong most dearth to us then how could there ever be a change. Some say death does that and others believe a loss of love in turns causing a succession   of events that tiredly holds us focus does this. But truly it is ourselves when we realize that in the churning of the defiant finally we are free.

Free. De Frank started to perceive.

Tire marks at the end of the forest ground illuminated by the moons shine to the one way road up ahead. He was sincerely tired but nonetheless jogged.

This was evidence he taught that this might have been the location. I mean- he means the school had to have been the boys present school before his most hastily withdrawn. He rips piece of the already ragged right arm sleeve off. Then grabbing a piece of earth up from the secluded area of tire tracks preserves it in his pants pocket. He would somehow have this tested for where the motto vehicle must have been before.

Thank God for the advancement of technology he thought and walks back to into the dense trees. He forgot something. He released the blade from eating tree chunks out of the bark and handed it from its handle down to his side. Whatever more is out waiting for him he had to be prepared? As of this one, he gave the midget a glace as he pass “Better call 065” the 911 emergency number of the country, it had caught him off guard.

 

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Chapter Seven

A Qualm, an easy feeling erupt between here and there when De Frank seen that the forest trailing one way street had led him to array of roads. They were bungle and jungle together. Grouped in such a way that De Frank knew whoever put them together we’re either lazily working or had not clue of how to do them right.

His stomach begins to growl.

It was well off into the ninth hour of the night when he remembers other than the bitter scent of hog molten in his mouth he did not eat for the day. He looked at his condition. He would either go on carrying himself trampling on a worn down leg that suddenly and irregular work when it want or go somewhere and freshen up. He did.

The street was quiet. Noiseless to abhorring police cars from down the way bar spots and Mexican spice restaurants, that is how the street sound. De Frank can even hear the gently sloping ocean waves coming asunder on dry sandy land for a backyard he thought Agent Hailey Kemper have.

Geez, why didn’t I take her gig? Oh yeah I don’t have big b***s which was a pretty silly thought because he like explosions, Ak-47 rifles, packed hounding wolves scooping out his last prob. At the end of that thought who would want to be a chick with pink panted lacy whose job was just to seduce and report. He had big ca unnas. In the English dictionary, that’s big balls.

He knew coming here is risky but he thought it could be the safety place from his restless manhunt. He was wanted dead or alive and he knows that but he also knew around here on a 24^th hour basis was back up forces. A team put together with highly trained martial art fighters and undercover twice and even black ops retired. How safe could it get?

He looked both ways as he cross the nightly lithe streets into her yard. He didn’t want to alarm her so he went to the edge of the front yard’s walk way pavement and an inch from the door took fourteen half inch steps. And with each steps his hip bone felt shattered and it hung. At least he felt it did. He bounces and went down as he counted fourteen. Then achingly bend over and reach under a dry piece of fake grass to soiled dirt.

The key. The key is missing. He swore he heard a foot creeping up behind him as he spun round and with everything he have sucker punch into where the man if 5’8  face would be. He was almost right on target. Instead he beat the man frontier head lid in. the man forehead hurt but he didn’t complain. He just put his hand to slightly rest on it and when De Frank saw him he just smile a “sorry.”

“Agent Frank you b*****d. After all this time I heard you where dead over there in____________.”

Frank smiling lifts his arms down in a presenting manner. “Look at me. Don’t I look dead?”

Then the two men let themselves inside with the key Agent Vince Van had already confiscated.

The little Vegas stylish looking front room he felt were a nice touch as De Frank made his way through a small cubicle size of a hall which led him into a space out living room with traditional Mexican fitting fixtures for furniture. But the Chinese vases were a dashing nice touch he thought winking his eyes at Vince Van before turning about face.

“So where’s the crew?”

The man went cold. The agent he knew as calm and collectable went ghostly pale.

“Judging by your complex state I am guessing there either dead or tied up in some manically depressing place with the exception that there DEA means there either tortured for two weeks or dead by night fall.”

“No they are not being tortured and we’re hoping there not dead. We just don’t know where they are at the moment,” blowing out his words in a sigh of reprieve before placing his hands on his hip.

“How weird and wonderful.”

 “Yeah. Well you look insubstantially great for displacing your position for the last two weeks and almost getting our cover blown in Tijuana.”

De Frank turning his bad hip around in a corkscrewing motion almost to winding and twisting the cover off a bottle began to limp towards the kitchen.

Pots and pans hung from the ceiling as he stops to sit on one of the bar stool chairs. “Like I said how weird and wonderfully great,” he said touching the soreness in his right leg and arm.

“So Rambo and I head down to this taco stand down the street from here to celebrate the New Years with a couple of locals then after getting a little lit we return back to the look out post.”

“And?”

“We see Harper’s car but no Harper in it.”

“Where was he position?”

Vince Van scratches the front of his head before blowing out another deep breath “Look I don’t know maybe in front of the house.”

“Flimsy”

“Yeah but one week into the undercover sting and we found that Harpers got this real weak heart for the girl so he never leaves his post lest he has to leave and we’re on it. Mostly he’s following like a dog trail behind her case.”

Vince Van throws him the old fashion tasting root beer in a glass bottle to him from the fridge.

“So we think he’s inside and call to make sure but…”

“But you get nothing. Uh huh go ahead.”

“We send once of our small guys to slip in from the sides of the night’s darkness…”

“And he finds?”

“Nothing.”

Taking a swig at the bottle De Frank hard head perceives but still had to say it although he knew his perfectionist friend knew he rather not hear it. “Seems like you lost your wolves footprints to the wilderness.”

“Big time.”

“You imagine how much of a burst this is more than what happened in Tijuana.” De Frank rubs in.

“Hey. You’re the one who killed all those people outside the massage parlor.”

“Well they had guns.”

“They were tyrannies.”

De Frank takes another swig then set his red hot eyes on the bottle. “Well they had bigger guns.”

Vince Van gives a chuckle before opening his bottle and glugging it all down pointed to the dishwasher. He opens it and reveals the contents of two glasses.

“He had probably came in to physically check on her and they both had orange juice.”

 “So we’re still in Pre School.” De Frank manages a smirk.

“It had to be them but then the trail goes colder after that.”

De Frank eyes trailing up to the hanging ceiled lamp his head were settle next to look up to the cemented second floor. “You checked the bed.”

“Covered as neatly in relation to, I don’t think they mess around.”

De Frank gives him a cold hard stare.

“I mean he likes her but she doesn’t know that. So more over I’m certain he doesn’t even know what her room looks like.”

“Okay. Whatever. We’ll just have to knock down a few dope barns and few muscles they have placed here and there and we’ll get their location.”

“Are you kidding me Frank?”

“Who’s kidding?”

“Can you imagine us going around blowing their hot spots up? Frank we’ll blow our cover. Then she’s dead for sure.”

“She’s dead either way if we don’t do this sooner. Are you forgetting she’s been kidnap? So overall they probably uncover enough dirt to cement her alive to the ground.”

Vince Van shakes his head. “I’m telling you Frank if we go bursting down doors then we’re just as good as dead. Every thing we’ve ever work for gone blown up in smokes. Pweff. All because of some...”

“All because of what? Some girl? Is it the same girl you enlisted though she was a rookie to be in this blood hunting country? You were the same agent in the beginning who convinced her to do this crap. You were the one who got  into her ear and told her this was going to be twice as safe and easy because you and the so called back up squad was going to be the darkness falls behind the full moon trailing her every move. Oh yeah? Then, where we’re you Vince huh. Where we’re you when they came and drag her out of the house. In some wooded bar getting lit when she was being beaten and dragged away and only God knows what else.”

Vince eyes now trail the floor.

De Frank got up and beat a fist into the kitchen wall. “It’s either now or never. Pursue the fresh scent of the trails until we find her. Dead or alive we take their bodies home.” He felt his eyes met a framed picture on the kitchen wall over a basket of roses. A painted image of a Mexican woman cheeks pressing against the lips of a child in her embracing arms. He felt his voice went low like in a humming tone “Everybody deserves a decent burial.”

Vince Van hearing an ear full walks out of the kitchen to the backyard. De Frank can see his body outstretched on a tree hung hammock melodies in the breeze while his mind is probably deeply immerse into guilt trying to separate the time from distance and space.  The recklessness of a night ago behavior probably weigh heavily on his mind. But no man can turn back time. He notice Vince Van noted it too when he saw one arm fling a tightly clenched knuckle into the air.

His mind had begun to wonder about the missing Agents. And even if they were just taking out of the house then it was up. The jig was up. All the entire pricks, the exhilaration that had completely driven him 007 hype, the entire convert had been brought to a bust. They were finish. It was either they were dead or going to be dead. Dead fishes in a pond left bloodily in a blood stained bath.

He grips the bottle tighter.

Death came as a solidify bewilderment to him. He could never see it. Only taste it when he saw the mouse traps set in his way and masked gunmen with rocket launchers and grenades badly out to get him. But he can never see it. Bombs bursting in the air, red and white stripes on a blue pilgrim flag placed over his casket that’s how he figure he wanted to be buried but the more he stayed in the desert plain land with glorified criminals and unmarked ash graves he thought this is how I want it. Want to be a nameless son of a badge unwritten on a wall or in some breaking news report. He wanted his body to become a part of the blood stained land. Something lived apart from dead here. He didn’t know what it is yet but he felt it and everyone whoever came here and never got to leave know exactly what it was and how consuming it became when it like an addict, it needing, the entity in you.

“T’is the seasons for killings.” Another voice entering the room interlude his thought. It roars mirthlessly at another being voice left trailing behind in the wind when the door closes behind him.

“Yeah hey! Look who it is. If it aint Ranger Danger in the flesh. ” he felt his voice uprising through the particles of rust and cough dirt in his mouth.

It was the Army Ex-Major Ranger. The sharp shooter. The punisher. The remarkable Mr. Don’t Break Slit but If I Have to You’ll Do.

Always armed. That’s how he had walked into the room. The man was always strapped even if he did not have to be but that’s not how he saw things. Every body had a wolf in them and as long as he was desert bait then he needed to use such travesty to escape the fangs of such beast.

“Didn’t know the serene lowland was your habitual habitat interest? Always thought you like it best when you did those what do you call them James Bond missions alone.”  Agent Folder fleeringly use his feet as a touch and lift off on an end table before hopping on top of the kitchens counter. He took an apple from a cluster of apples on a glass platter. He bites hungrily into before raising it into the light. “But first to old times and the atrocity of many more too come.”

De Frank smiling lifted the bottle in his hand into the air too before heading his gaze towards the window to the left of them. He watch the waves rushing pass another and the white caps that form about it. It reminded him of his sunny side lake terrace home in Florida and his boat.

“Too come, he scratches his beard “probably too soon since you credulous b******s let the paw print out of your sight.”

“Hey whoa, that wasn’t me, men. I was out watching some guys arm getting saw off. Pretty sight when you think about the fact he loves young girls.”

Then the moment gets tense. Then slinkiness sets in. He sees Frank is dissonantly calm yet anxiousness quakes in his eyes. He was craving for something. The swallowing of the ocean waves and its salty mist revolving periodically couldn’t make him dance. Unmusically he raises his question to his long time friend’s ear. “So Frank, I know you you only show up when theres something extremely withstanding happenings.  What in the world have you gotten yourself into this time? Or are we all in some knee deep murky creek my head won’t be able to see under? Tell me Frank are we all going to hell.”

“You won’t believe your ears.” A broad grin spread across his face.

“There was another kidnapping.”

“I know. The kid.”

“What kid?” his voice sorted in the notion he did not know about the missing son of the dead cartel.

De Frank caught his voice by surprise. “You mean you guys did not get the package or the detailed stimulus info that this kid is the big apple.”

“You mean somehow connected to all of this trafficking. Disengage.”  he interim using disengage as another one of his fixture of terms in his dictionary of culinary words he’s cook up to sedate his nature of things.

He stiffens up his posture and loose kicks one of his legs into the air space.

“I get this call from Stapleton. Says there’s been another kidnapping victim. I go out to this diner and this guy name Jose tells me he’s some kid of a dead cartel.”

“No.”

“Yeah, see that’s exactly my response to this man. And what he tells me next is this kids ransoms not been paid yet. So there’s barely any freaking clue where he could be then this truck comes full blasting through the parking lots dust at where we’re sitting and I’m like hot dang I just got here.”

Both men collar a chuckle.

 De Frank pulls a frowning of a grin followed by a swipe of the finger under his nose. “Then I’m bursting my butt out in my blue Cadillac. You know my blue Cadillac?”

“Yea. Like the one you spent the boat loads of cash buying at some junk entailer.”

Another grin splits across De Franks face. He lifts a finger to oppose. “Look that beauty wasn’t a bust until some three truck loads of gunners come shoot ‘em up at me.” He poses his bottle free hand in the sign of a gun.

Agent Folder slaps his hand down on his right leg swelling with laughter. “You mean a mean case of stranger reindeer game.”

His converse sounding a bit too contentious De Frank looks up at the clock and let it stabilize the time frame of the hour.

“It’s late.”

Agent Folder looking at his watch bite into the apple again and reinstate “It is getting.”

“Are you heading my way.”

“By evening tomorrow I’ll be heading back out to the hills. Why?”

De Frank then lit a cigar from out his pocket. “I got an old friend whose dying to see me.”

              

 

                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Officer Enrique felt the American spies were stupid. They were less highly unaware of the nature of things here than they were actually train to intercept like two way conversations picked up by a roadside vehicle just some feet down from its most neurotic object.

He ran his hands to swap the mosquito sucking the blood from off his neck. It obliterates. The swatting kills it. The blood is left on the back of his skin. Stains it. He smiles. That is how he seen the factors multiplying revealing itself in front of him. From contacts to undercover agents used as pillars to bring down the organized crimes that have come to distinguish it self from other continental criminal networks. He admits his countries crime level is ridiculously high and is more violent. But as anyone will agree you had to be feared to be respected and respected to become known. These men weren’t vicious vile monsters who used any means necessary methods to accumulate all the wealth they had the opportunity to come across. They were entrepreneurs. Over time branched out to become multi-millionaires to billion dollar cooperate lucrative who did not take no for the answer. If anyone ever did got caught up in their arena where combativeness for a variation of circuit lies at the lives of another adversary then it truly is just business. Like any other profitable billion dollar empire when anyone fault a threat it will have likely occur in an untimely demise. But it just wasn’t in the drug venue but in the political arena, in the financial banking, automotive industries as well. Every big building business in the industry that became to make bigger money knew that having a competitor knock the taste buds for being mega successful right out the mouth. They knew what it took? Niceness didn’t get you anywhere. It all begot to the roots of being down and dirty mean. An aggression had to be your force and getting things done the attitude no matter the losing blood part on your own side. You can ask the Sicilian Mafia. A hit was a hit and a wack took out the rat. It was that simple. So in many cases something had to be done and it was. Other times going into hands with the government brought that adversary down which was the more nonviolent approach. He knew how the game was played. Everything is a center stage. Everyone had their que and parts. Their scripts and positions and keys. You came in when wanted and needed and disappeared or drop off into loony bin when things were finish. Kings are set up and design to fall in their time and age. Others were rebuilding then to crumple to ruins when someone else rose to a greater power gnawing a thorn on their side. Drugs were needed. It really was. In order to keep two thirds of the world hooked on crap for the rest of their days so the rest of the world could be turn into what the b******s with the most money want. It was like human life was a game and there was barely any sympathy he had seen it. The real b******s behind it were going to be the same ones seen smiling kissing babies yet eating them and making the laws into existence yet breaking them. Those agents were just paws on a bigger board. Their operations here were rather pathetic than gathering intel. Smiling and rubbing his hand across a small dash a curl on a his head hid he reached once again for his drink. He crushed the ice between his teeth and felt at ease. If only they knew what were really coming there way.

Enrique sipping on his drinks straw lifted his curvy full lips from off it and then started juicing the piece of orange stuck on the side of his glass. Paradise never took its name back from his country the denomination of the U. S congress and the world’s board of fiancés did when they realized that the plan unbecoming was getting out of their hands. The funny thing about things were the way it was always doc spin around made to look anything other than what was inscribed in what seem like worlds plans were not on their were occurring in his country. Then the cartels went onto their hit list. Simple as that that is how he saw things. How the agent walking around his country in steel toe boots beating what they believed its third world grime back to dust. He chuckle. They weren’t even close.

“You just couldn’t leave it alone. Could you?” a feminine softness brush against his indulging of the conspicuous night air.

He opened his mouth to speak but then draw back his jaw to a close.

“You’re not alone. I’m kind of thir-sty.”

Her voice slurs so he then turns around to meet her brown eyes burning seductively through his. He huffed out a breath then turn back around to face the direction of the ocean waves licking into the shorelines sand.

“If you’re thirsty then you’re also dry so go away.” He rascal one of his hands to pursue the woman into another direction.

In mid-air she grabs his hands.

Pressing her razor sharp teeth against his ear so he can feel she was as nasty as she sound she growl. “I bet you’re here spying on that American w***e.”

After suckling all the juice out halves of the once whole orange he drops it into his half filled glass. “So is that what this is. Jealousy doesn’t look like your kind of dance.”

Tightly now her free arm claps tightly around his neck. She pulls him closer into her jawbone and bite.

The man doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even whiff out a couple of harsh agonizing “I’m in pain” breaths. He just grips his vision and sees himself floating on the surface of the bangalash waves sputtering wildly onto the closes of palm trees. He thinks of how much he would come all the way here to this place he called the paradise part to pick coconut with his father. They would fish and sell them to the tourists mostly Americans and he missed how it uses to feel.

Not long the ladies bite turn into a moist and erecting him long kiss passionately wiping away any bad feelings he had of her now. “There I made it better.” She unclasps her teeth grip but left a grim mark. “Bet you think lovely of me now.”

No. yes. No.

He couldn’t make up his mind but when her black long fluctuating dress went mopping the floor of the place he felt as if jealousy was still her taste. Then paying the tab he made trail for his American spies. They were sure as an inferno having a better moment in time than him.

It was all fun and games to them he thought, all fun and games. The women holding her baby newborn in her arm cuddling him. the husband with the muscular overtone stood in front of their house on their short cut green grass snapping pictures of his family.

He sat back in his chair. Grimacing, he then turns on the cars radio to a music station playing an awfully bad song. He let the music play a while. He tried to visualize himself doing something else other than his line of work. Nothing came. He reached into the back behind his passenger seat into the cooler and pulled out a soda. He quickly drinks it down. Gulping it quickly, he almost spills it when the couple went inside. The woman almost trips on the baby blanket that fell out of her arms and the husband using all the strength in his muscular arms lean back his one hand and strike her across her high cheek bone face.

He smirks a choke of liquid that came spurring out of his mouth. His hand holding refuge from keeping it off his seat he shakes his head.

And he always thought Americans were happy family friendlily boy was her wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Senator Foyer sat in a restaurants chair as he ran his eyes down the outside grounds of his apparent impetuous luxury and looks out beyond the balcony. He slightly turns his head unto the right side of his neck and sometime aching shoulder bone. Touching the fatty tissue of his cheek he looks at his people scrumming about. For the first time in all his years elected he look at his country. All he can see was trees, capillary ocean waves and beside the brown stoned walled stores that look like they belonged on some street on New York’s Avenue his countries poverty. Poor Mexican dirt blood red the color of war and infirmary was the outcome of the drug war in its unruliness.

He had turn his head back down to the menu when he heard a familiar voice behind him said “The element of a mans power is his attribute and not what he giveth but what he gained though vigorousness its not by persevering but belligerence .”

“If he was gullible.” Senator Foyer eyes disdain down at the leather bounded menu.

Foyer doesn’t turns around but sits provokingly scarce in his seat with his back turn to the black iron railing stairs that his long time friend Green Marci venture up on. He was wearing what he always wore the last time he met him. The cologne so strong it had to be drowning out the denounced apparel that looked wrenching fetching in the side of________because only they would actually wear what he had on.

“I bet you’ve miss me.”

Still not looking up his voice is thin and grim. “If you say so,”

The morning had just brink hours ago and Foyer felt his chest heaving at the wind rising temperature. He didn’t know why but he always felt and got cold every time Green came around. Sincerely every time his childhood friend would he wanted to bolt for any escape routes that were available. Every time that came with his friend and his job became his lifes most repugnant mistakes. He was sure if ever an biography was written about his life it would say “a war criminal unarrrested, unapprehended and needless to his countries democratic system. Most likely to turn on his own.” But for money how long down and dirty he really was. At home his wife didn’t want to look at him. He couldn’t even touch her soft milk skin. She will spit on his money. He was neither.  Just a goon for the chasing a bait for the real hounds. His mind cunningly devising things only to stir economically restrains on his own soil.

He raise his eyes up from the menu decidedly want he wanted and sentry deeply into the green eyes of Dr. Green Marci.

Green undeservingly not giving him any attention look down the documents in front of him before whisking a hand at the waiter. The waiter arrived in a tuxedo and empty platter balanced on his hand.

“Just bring me lime water. And my friend here is dietary reserved, probably, rather more will stick to breathing.”

Senator Foyer let out a huffed puff then angrily closes the menu book shut. The wind that blew hastily from when the menu shut alerted Green and the waiter sense hostility move away now with the orders. Dr. Green eyes now glued on his friend chubby hands wrestle with an afterthought before gazing into Foyer’s unsettling disposition.

“What? What is the matter? You look stunningly out of breath. Look at your face. It’s suddenly red. I’ll tell you my dearest friend getting angry isn’t a beckoning thing to do. It’s almost like begging.”

“Begging.” Humph Foyer. “That’s certainly what you’re good for.” He nestle under his breath

“Ah I bet you can’t imagine how piss off I am right now. Not that it’s in your designate to know but don’t you think it’s rather dashing if you guess.” Green flutters his eyes with a grimace smile and shapely white teeth.

Foyer rather embarrasses than disgusted at Green rolled his eyes and blew out a steam full of air. “No Green I don’t think I want to wave pomp pomps and don’t think you can become prom queen, I certainly don’t think your pretty and I am currently married.” He raises his wedding ban for all to see.

Dr. Green Mercer had a rat face with a most selfishness disposition. That is how Senator Foyer had remembered his childhood friend. One who was more unsympathetic than any war criminal driving into force fields of human ____ causing fatalities like the salt of the seas. More rigid and intending evil than any insurgents whose face made the news on 9/1 1 Foyer is sure. He was rather sunny like even when he was most not. But rather all the specs of little people Foyer had seen scurrying below the balcony was like ________ and human waste rolling in ounces out of a drain onto the streets. Yet this kept Foyer quiet and easily to instructively command.

As the wind blows Green raising his elbows on the surface of the table clasps his hands into a clap like motion as his fingers widget themselves into the spaces of the others hand. They kissed.

“Let me tell you I just flown on a 13hour flight from Washington DC and no I am not at all happy to see you or this wretched country. I have everyone from the director taking heat from the congressional office to the insolent picking the boors out my nose media on my tail. And let me tell you Senator Foyer I don’t like it much bit. No, if not undeniably, at all. Even after all that I have done for those frigging specs they sent the internal affair after my butt and shot lead up there.” He makes a swift gesture with his arm pushing his hand up a rectum shape hole. “I take out everyone from dishonestly thieving congressmen b******s themselves to preselected president hopefuls to the agents I teach and bring down drug cartels no body wants to go after and they try to shut down the operations I’ve work the  last 50 months on. Ever since I’ve join this unit, this underhandedly untrustworthy sons of cheap suited c***s they’ve had it out for me. They’ve had it out for me I tell you.” Green went without breath for every second he talk.

Senator Foyer shrugs. “Well maybe you aren’t as confidingly useful or undetectably gaining the output as much as been calculated inputted as expected so you become mutable.”

“Interchangeable. That’s how long eternity is. I did things for them that’s freaking interchangeable now. I made ground where feet were slippery and unfitted. No one will ever be able to replace Green.” Green argued still ranting on as his grimacing frown turn into a sneering smile as the waiter who came over brought his glass of lime water. He wipes his one hand around the rim of the glass, a thing he could never get rid of no matter what he did, before pulling a straw out the undercoat pocket of his jacket and into the cup. The water tasted dreadfully bitter.

“Well unless your in the boys club or in the bed with them eternity doesn’t equal the fat check they give you then the stamp of abjection they use to disclose you from their secrecy. It’s rather pathetic you want to stay in a boys club forever. You know someday, somehow one day boys become men and men become old hairless b******s who use too much grease on their bald head. What more do you want from yourself other than to just retire and go live somewhere in a paradisiacal state than the wrecked state they broke you down now, Green. You certainly have to get over yourself with this thing. You aren’t immortalized replacement of the characteristic James Bond.” Foyer looks Green square in the face and fakes a press on smile and said. “He’s fake you know.

Green looking down at his prissy looking hands glared a mean taste before saying “You’re nails are hanging you know. The only genre of men I know that does that is rather…..” he raises his eyes to meet his friend as his tongue quirks “flamboyant.”

Green gives his friend a bored stared before Foyer retorted and placing an arm on one of his meatloaf looking sides “and wasn’t it you who in the beginning wanted to be a prissy little princess.”

Green just give him that bored stared before things got more somber.

“Do you know how cold my shower was or what time I was waked out my bed this morning all because I had to make a sharply nitro stop here. On the plane my bagels were dry and the scramble eggs were too scrambled and warm. The coffee was simply awfully wrong. They had no cream. They didn’t put sugar. I ate it nonetheless and I bet you can’t guess who I had seen while getting into my cab at the airport.”

“Who?” promptly ask Senator Foyer

“If I tell you then I might have to kill you.” Green smiled menacingly at the drapes of sunlight stretching forth from beneath the clouds behind his friend spaceship looking head.

“So why’d you bring it up.”

“Because I might have to.” Green eyes now smear dauntingly with his eyes now. It begins to scare his childhood friend.

Below them a man with a tall black Lincoln looking hat ran pass in a brown jacket. It look like he was running to not fro and why is his face hidden Green thought as the scribbles of extra brows now bubble upon his forehead. 

“And how do you expect to pull this thing off you called me 2am in the morning to promptly enclosed on Green if their firing you from the position you have now.” Senator Foyer eyes now look inquisitively at Dr. Green Mercer has his attention look blankly startle elsewhere.

Clearing his throat Green turns back his face to Foyer. His hands began to shake nervously as beads of sweat now emerge. He felt quizzical sick. His stomach churning. His throat now bearing particles of an unmixed drink now floating around in his tube. His nostrils now felt like they were block. Chokes of air exhaust through out his mouth before he got up out his chair in a small crowded balcony of people.

“Why are you making such a fuss Green? When whatever you have plan is over you’ll have your job back and everything will be justifiably okay. Now sit down people are beginning to stare.” Foyer told him apologetically now looking back down at the leather bounded open menu. He really wanted that red stake.

“K. K. Tying lu kull me.” Dr. Green Mercer said without breaths of focus. Suddenly he couldn’t remember how to breathe as breaths of air weren’t getting to his heart to get to his lung. He released his hand from off his tightening chest to raise both of his arms over his head it felt like it was full of air or his ear hole had to be block because his brain was not getting any air. He collapses. Hardly onto the ground he felt a force of blow almost beat his head into halves and saw blood flowingly wreak from under his head and quickly soaked up by his white cotton shirt.

This fall to the floor sounded because now Senator Foyer now was havocked over his childhood friend asking him to breathe. Foyer can sees Green literally painting a face of green. Then suddenly someone with a photogenic grip on a handle of lenses came speedily running to the scene of a dying man or was it that it was the countries most contradicting senator over the body of a breathless man. Whatever it was it became enough to made streaks of blood from Senator Foyer’s shoes stream a color of extensive blood mark streaks all over the balcony placid clay marble floor before hopping down the last set of steps. He kept to the sides of the restaurants balcony walls to keep from being seen before ducking into his car and made tire marks out of sight.

Dr. Green Mercer just kept breathlessly bargaining with God while a photogenic man with bright lenses glamorously recklessly takes mass images of him dying like a bloody hog. Then before blanking out a badge over him showed and pushed the flashing lights that look like his last chariot to deaths canyon over him to his side.

“I think he’s saying they’re trying to kill me.’”

Before pausing and fetching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. His voice in a high pitching rise says “Who? Me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That is the most inconsistent reenactment of the kidnapping two Americanized looking kids were showing De Frank and the crew. It was pretty agonizing to watch. The kids had no skills whatsoever. But Agent Folder feeling an itch in his throat coming on coughed lightly than to let the two ching chung kids know. Their names were Billy Lee and Ming Lu. Off course they were here on vacation the boy screamed more eminently than he heard the sisters voice ever pitch the entire time they were standing on the exact corer Agent Harper and Kemper were stolen away into vans at least according to the girl eye witness report was precisely the relic.

“And then he hit the guy like this over his head.” The boy theatrical role playing got a bit girlish when he not with the fullness of his hands but the tip at the pivot stems where the fingers begin and the palm of the hand begun.

“Ow Billy that hurt.” The girl bawl before overpowering her brother and wrestling him into a choke hold to the grass.

“Stop. Stop Ming Lu I can’t breathe. Ouch. Ouch. You’re hurting me. Mom, Mommy.”

Agent Folder pressing his folded two arms that kissed his chest knew he was right... The kids such a wuss.

De Frank rolling his eyes nudges the kids apart. They were still going at it though. They were still trying to get at each other. The girl name Ming Lu was still coming wrestle mania style at her brother with her arms out aside her like Hulk Hogan’s muscles lounging at his side. The boy’s small arms flank wildly and loosely through mid air until his sisters locking arms somehow got a handful of his black silky hair.

“Aw. Aw.” His head flung back then forward in throttle motion now as the girl for some reason infuriated got away from De Frank and slam her knees into her brothers bent head. She rattles something off in Chinese first before twisting his head like a piñata throw him onto the ground.

A woman voice now sharply violated the air. A Chinese woman most likely the mother came running over shouting Chinese profanities at the men just standing by on her lawns grass looking clueless.

“Sorry. I never had kids.” Agent Folder said sarcastically to no one in particular raised his hands in the air as if he was ordered to surrender.

“Shut up. She isn’t talking to you. Well at least the dumb then using the profanity for a donkey part.” The shortest man in their unit obviously knowing Chinese said as the woman scramble to grab her kids in both hands.

“Well this is a waste.” De Frank wanted to say but thoughtlessly walk back to where Harpers car was still sitting with the ignition part literally melt off and the keys taken when they were capture by whoever kidnapped them lead so far away from calling any one of the other agents for SOS help.

He thump through the papers rolled up in the cars compartment before finding a picture of some Chinese woman. But it was a distant taken photo. One taken from an off dense point cause the light from distance made the photo useless her face in the image was all fuzzed out. He turns the picture on the back and saw 1600 in military time. Harper military loved was took everywhere even now he thought as he pulled his weight out of the car. Now his leg began to grow paralyzed and hurt. It aches and caused him to limp now. His hips feeling much better but felt rotten bad every time his right leg hit the pavement he still march on till he was face to face in the conflicted calamity and an inch from the kids mothers face.

“Hi. I was hoping if you could tell us who this lady is?” he smiled a charming bravo smile before turning the woman’s face in the picture away from his about to the mother. She shook her hastily no before she could actually say something like “the qualities too bad or I can’t see who it is” just no. De Frank stood noting her apparel skimpy and expensive as she marches across the street now pulling the kids by their ears.

“Ouch. Ouch mommy. You’re going to yank my ear off.”

“Ah. Ah. She’s killing me. She’s hurting me. Stop her you useless American men.” The boy overemotional screams as his face scrunching made his eyes less noticeable and his tears squeezed from his closed eye lids.

The house door close behind them and the men could hear the welts of belt blows being thrown from an angry mother. Agent Folder oozed his shoulder in an upward then downward chill as it remind him of the buckle part of the belt days he had with his father. But look how far it got him he smiled as he stood in the shadows of the men while they emerged and plunge in the car for more intellect after they had seen the faceless woman in the photo. He smiles.

“Geez lady have some sympathy.” He chuckle as he turn to go to the car.

All the men knew they were out in the open now as they search through the car. Nothing far but the womans picture was evidential significance of importance to the situation that lurked in their guts now.

“Pop the trunk.”  De Frank said.

Vince Van rushes his hand beneath the sides of the drivers’ seat and found the lever and pulled. It reflexes up into the air automatically as it reflected the sunlight on its black beauty behind. Pulse of loose breath frantically left the hallowedness of his lungs. He moving less feet from the cars trunk fell onto his knees grabbed his guts. His eyes let go a startle rush and in an instance the men join him in his disfiguration and fell over their bowels and took a look away.

It was wrenching. It was startling. It was readying in decomposing.

It couldn’t be. It just can not be. It is all De Frank can think of  while he positioned like a dog  on his hands on the street pavement arched his eyes now far fetched out into the openness of the road into nameless faces of neighboring houses driveways searching for a sign of life or even an answer to the headless body of a man they knew was Agent Harper rotting like a dead roadside animal in the back of his own car.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How convenient?”

Agent Red Malice didn’t mean to let the words slip from his lips. It just did. Luckily no one said anything as they sat with the blinds drawn inside of Agent Hailey Kempers undercover house.

When Agent Vince Van pacing up and down the living room floor suddenly startled by the ceiling winks at his ear “I think we need to vamp outside,” he bear down a look at De Frank who was plop down on the loveseat couch with his head tilting towards wondering thoughts. “It might have extra ears in here.”

“Oh yeah.” Agent Harley looking less severely train like an amateur rookie than a 5year train covets. “Wait. Be quiet a minute.”

The men let the room vamp of air and noises till silence evocated the atmosphere. It was like slow beams of a hum at first then it grow louder no longer hush by the running refrigerator and the other plug in utilities Red Malice and Vince Van went round about the downstairs level plugging out. It was like a slow hum beaming to an eccentric speed till it could no longer be held in contempt it became perceivable. It was a spying device spying on the men who were professional train coverts operators.

“You gotta be kidding.”  Red haired Harley said standing lanky for 5’8 in the center of the men circle formation on the furniture of the room.

De Frank head begins to rise off the axis of the universe and its head trip around the sun and heard it faintly at first then vamporant and fast like then.

The noise brought all the men to their feet as they hand signal to each other who was going to go where and where they heard the beeping emerging. They were soft and cautioning now as their variety like steps were sent trenching into all directions.

The tall ones hit the smoke detectors and Red Malice hit along the sides of the walls. One by one they remove the furniture and look behind. The emptiness suckling De Frank head in a motion every time he had to look less than 3 feet on low ground. His head spun around and around in an orbital phase incapable for him to keep hiss balance until he blanks out.

De Frank wakes to find the agents surrounding him. He woke to it on the floor.

“You weren’t gone but a minute.” Red Malice input helping De Frank off his back onto his toes to stand, “Are you missing your meds or something.”

Placing a hand to his head De Frank give a lightly chuck “No. I just haven’t eaten in days. I’m okay now though thanks buddy.”

De Frank wasn’t that kind of guy that sentimental guy who went around praising everyone for all the good hey did. He hated things like that but he fainting like that scared somewhat a little life out of him. When everyone around him was dying fainting just is not the convenient thing to do.

He gives the clock a quick glance. He was spending too much time here. He had his own affairs to deal with but his mind kept revolving around a headless body without a head belonging to a man he trained with. That was enough to make him angry.

“We have to interview the two kids again.”

 

They sat in on a hard carpet in the middle of the living room floor. De Frank aiming to sit height like with the gaze although he never really did this kind of work before sat with his legs crossed on the floor. His muscles ached but he kept it control with the desire to know what had happen the night his friend disappeared and one got his head severed and someone left somberly his body for a present for the rest of the agents in back of his car.

Dealing with kids was not in his daily life or written in his job description but only when it came to saving them did he had any appeasement to be within as close as he was next to them. They were sitting with the sister’s pink and the boys red socks on on a hard carpet for a rug on the floor. De Frank sat intentionally inputted into the middle in between them as the kids were ranting on and on about their favorite cereal and animation television show series. De Frank tried his best to release the tense muscles contracted in his face and listen lightly and to pick up where were jokes.

“Okay children I think this man has have enough of your games. Tell him what he came to know now okay.”  The mother came out of her room in a pink bathrobe and Donald duck slippers and give De Frank a wink.

He wink at her back.

He takes the kids by their arms and smile kindly.

“Do you remember what you told me and my friends today?”

The kids nodded.

“Okay I need to know exactly what you saw. And no made up stories you kids put together to make it sound interesting. Okay?”

“Okay.” The kids shake their heads yes again

“What we’re you guys doing when you heard the noise?” De Frank asks releasing his interlock from around the kid’s arms.

The girl spoke first raising a finger to a left nostril. She presses down softly on an itch. “Um we we’re playing right. It was late and moms said go to bed but we played anyway. Right Billy Lee?”

“Right. Right.” Her brother affirms his head up and down in a bobble head motion.

“It sounded like a gun shot.” The girl reveals.

“O no it didn’t.” the boy disagreed

“Oh yes it did!” the girls voice grow louder into an obnoxious high pitched squeal.

“If it ever did sounded like a gunshot I didn’t hear it.” The mother chime in pulling her bath robe around her body tightly. She stood in the background behind the couches just staring at them and the strange man inquiring about some incident she did not heard in her house.

“Well that’s because you were to busy snoring like a panda.” The girl started snorting like a pig before loudly snoring like a panda.

“Maybe because she is a panda.” The brother now laughs falling side ways unto the floor onto De Franks lap.

He bows his head and strangely looks at the kid.

The boy seeing his face turn gets up.

“Then I saw a woman running out from another direction before another man got shot.” The girl shout into the air.

“No. Me. Me. Me. Me. My turn. My turn to tell the police man what I saw.”

The police man. De Frank arch an eyebrow. Was he that much

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enrique had a courtside view when a tall muscular man came out of a house close to his target position. The man gives a quick look around before sliding into the passengers seat of a black escorted car. Two men came jogging up from another residential house to the car. Exchanging a quick debated heated in words the car turn down the road before the two men this time to the house garage drive out on two motorcycle. Something to see Enqriue said to himself and reversing speedily drove a short distance behind the commotion of vehicles till it became clear to him where they were heading.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

didnt go over it so errors frequent

Reviews

[LiberScriptus]

I think you have a very interesting start here. I know you said that you haven’t had a chance to read over it yet, so I will ignore the technical errors (although they do make it confusing to read). By the way, this website allows you to upload individual chapters as part of a book, just so you know (I also think it would help if you posted some form of brief synopsis so future readers know what they’re getting themselves into).

I think you have a great instinct for evoking a certain time and place. For example, this passage: “It was coming up into focus in all this smog and dust. De Frank turn abruptly the steering wheel and caused the car to jerk to swing crazily into the lot of the small square building with wide windows and a painted red sign that said “Diner”. He ate the flying dust in his face before his feet could touch the grime on the ground- the car door flying open he stood any 2 foot taller than any Mexican he was sure as he combed his hand through his hair and made wave into the place to meet his contact. It wasn’t quite yet dawn.” shows the reader exactly where the story is taking place in a wonderfully simple way.
I found the prologue to be somewhat confusing, but that’s probably because I didn’t know what the rest of the story was about at the time. However, it does a good job of setting up the tone for the rest of the piece, and with some editing it could be quite effective.
I like how in chapter one we find out what’s going on- you do a great job of showing the reader the setting and introducing the audience to the kind of world they will be reading about. The character of Tommy Tony De Frank seems intriguing, and you do a good job of showing the reader who he is. And I like how you set up the story through dialogue.
I got confused again around chapters two and three, since you seem to cut to other scenes separate from the one you set up in Chapter One. This is fine, but I think it would help if you were to add a little more of an introduction so that the reader is aware of the shift.
I think the most interesting parts are where you describe what’s going on in the characters’ heads and adopt a tone that feels almost as though they are the one doing the speaking.
Overall, I think you have a great start and clearly have a lot of potential. Keep going!

[Here here]

Sorry I do not have the time at the moment to finish the whole thing, but from what I read, I can tell it has lots of potential. You obviously love to write, and I think you write well. Keep it up! And have an extraordinary day! *thumbs up*
Esther.