Posts Tagged ‘October’

 

Outcomes like this were not unusual for Rocky. He had just killed a man, but he was more concerned about getting something to eat. The air was fresh and clear. There were no food smells. No tortillas, eggs bacon, no carne asada, beans, nothing. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since he left Hector and this was day two. The only scent was the dry acid odor of sage. He was walking out of buildings and looking at grassy, bushy, boulder strewn open hills.

He reached a high wall compound that did not appear to be a building, but consisted only of thick wooden walls. He reached an opening wide enough for a truck to pass through. The door opened in two halves, which were held together by two bony arms in a clinch-fisted grasp. It was a dead man’s grip that reminded Rocky of the Dead Truckers in the La Rumorosa Mountains.

On each side every wall appeared to be about fifty yards long. The ground around the structure was clean. There were no rocks, grass, brush and it looked cultivated by a furrow. It was flat clean earth.

Rocky spent time inspecting the structure, he pushed pulled and found nothing that would provide a way in. It appeared solid. He looked and listened.

Finally he sat down and leaned back against the rough timbers. What was inside was still a mystery. He thought he heard arguing voices between a man and a woman. At first the conversation was distant, but now was getting louder. They were walking inside the walls and approaching where he was sitting.

“Can’t talk about Lalo,” he killed Lalo. “He was the door for my recruits,” The womans voice was filled with frustration. Rocky dropped him in the grinding stones.”

“What about his people, what did they do?”

“Nothing, they were stupefied with the bone syrup.”

“I hear Rocky is good,” said the male voice. “He’s after me. I’m a little nervous.”

“If he got you, then you could come to me.”

“You know I will, but I’m not ready now.”

“You don’t say that when we’re making love.”

“That’s because I’m only thinking of you.”

There was a feminine sigh.

“What about Beatrice? Have you any thoughts of revenge?”

“Yes, but that may take some time.”

“Did Lalo say where I was?” The male voice sounded nervous.

On the other side of the wall Rocky was guessing who they were. But where was Beatrice? Arongo was just a job. But Beatrice had an insane edge of sinister. And Rocky knew she was dangerous.

“Not that I know of,” said the feminine voice. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know.”

     Now here’s Lalo wanting to play games. Rocky wondered if these strange people would help Lalo if he needed it. If   he screamed would they go against Rocky. He had to do something. Time may be running out for Hector and he was babysitting a possible murderous psycho. Beatrice acted nice with Rocky, but was she?     Rocky never turned his back on her.

Lalo gave Rocky a challenging look. His hands were hidden behind his leather apron. Was he holding some kind of weapon? Beatrice was edging closer and behind Rocky. He could smell her feint waft of cologne. It smelled sweaty. Would he have to deal with her and Lalo? They had a history of some sort.

Lalo walked along the edge of the pit between two beams pushed by his slaves. He kept pace with the movement of the turning bars. Rocky jumped up on the space next to Lalos and stood between two spokes pushed by what appeared to be a groggy crew. “So here we are rocky,” he chirped out and pulled a stevedore’s loading hook in each hand.

Rocky’s reaction was instant. A slap across Lalo’s face sent him over the edge and into the concaved depression. He tried to slow his descent with the hooks scraping against the metal surface that let to the grinding stones. His scream and wild look over his shoulder was rewarding for Rocky. Tired of the cocky misfit’s attitude he felt refreshed in a strange way.

Lalo involuntarily spun around the grinding stones. His workers were oblivious to their masters plight.

“My apron’s caught between the stones, help me out.”

“Where’s Arango?”

“Help me and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not buying that.”

Lalo’s hooks left circular marks in the metal panels of the dome.

“You’re not going anywhere without my help.”

“Okay, okay, he’s staying at the boneyard.”

“Where’s that.”

“Take the street out front down to the end. It’s there.”

“Okay thanks.”

“Now help me, please.”

“Why don’t you ask your people.”

“What, they won’t listen, they can’t”

“Then I’ll just let you figure something out.” Rocky turned away and climbed out of the slow spinning disc and walked for the outside door. Lalo’s painful screams were like music to his ears. They got louder and then abruptly stopped.

Rocky turned and looked for Beatrice. She was nowhere in sight. He wondered on side she was really on? It didn’t matter to Rocky, because he felt he knew. He knew she was a deeply troubled woman.

He rubbed his hand over the grip of his pistol. It gave him the same comfort as his Buddha. And he found his brass friend and gave him a few caresses, and it was soothing.

He immediately forgot about Lalo, but Beatrice remained in the back of his mind.

“May we get serious, you sure you want to go in there? This place is dangerous. You seem so nice.” Beatrice chuckled and winked at Rocky.

Rocky said nothing and walked though the open door. Empty tables and overturned chairs declared a party or a fight. A pool of blood surrounded an overturned chair. Against the wall there was a single faucet with a red handgrip. There were no bottles on rack, bartender, or waiter. It didn’t matter, because Rocky wasn’t thirsty.

A grinding and the gritty sound made the building shake.

A portly man with a thin mustache in white filthy clothes a butcher would wear cam out. He wore a greasy leather apron. “Hola, Beatrice how’s your virtue?”

“Very funny, Lalo! ” Beatrice sounded flat and angry.

“Have you seen Arango Mota?” Rocky asked.

“Who’s this?” asked Lalo.

“This is Rocky, he works with Roberto Cruz.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Follow me I’ll show you what I’m doing now.”

Rocky and Bernice followed Lalo and the grinding sound became more intense.

“You haven’t answered my question,” growled Rocky.

“No I haven’t,” Lalo chuckled.

The room was filled with people who pushed at beams that radiated from a central stone that turned on a stone beneath it. Male and female people pushed at the timbers that made the stone rotate. Others gathered bones and dropped them into a saucer shaped hallow that dropped to the central stones. Clattering down to the central stones bones were ground into pale dusty compound that dropped down between the revolving stones.

“I’m making bone syrup, it’s quite addictive and will give you a great inner bloom.”

Beatrice rolled her nose. Rocky said nothing. The workers were automatons appearing to be numbed, like walking somnolents.

“Where do you find the bones?” Rocky asked.

“Graveyards we dig them up,” Lalo smiled. “And we have other sources.”

“So where’s Arongo Mota?”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to make me tell you.”

“Lalo, be careful,” Beatrice spoke in a quivering voice. “This man is seriously dangerous.”

Keeping alert, he looked around for Beatrice and found he was alone. She probably ran out the door in frustration and was waiting for him in the street. Then he thought of that creep clavio. What if she ran into him?

“What you look for is not here,” the voice in the dark murmured. “But there will be more revelations to come. These will aid you in your quest.”

“Who is Lucille?” asked Rocky.

“You will discover that if you already haven’t.”

“Is my friend Hector safe?”

“He is as long as you don’t tarry. You must find a substitute to redeem him.”

“How do you know all this?”

A light dimly lit the face of a skull on a skeletal torso. It seemed to be suspended in the blackness. The eyes glowed red and faded to pink and then back to red. “Does this answer your question?” You might be able to solve your problem with Arango Mota. But you must hurry. A skeletal hand appeared and waved Rocky away. “Now go.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I cannot tell you. Finding him is part of your trial.”

“Anything is possible,” said Rocky. “Can I trust Beatrice?”

“She is a woman who has murdered. What can I say?”

“Did she work here with you and the establishment?”

“For those questions you already possess the answers.”

“You’re correct.”

“Then go.”

“One more question. Did you love Lucille?”

“With every feeling I possess.”

“She’s still a beautiful woman.”

“I know.”

“Beautiful,” Rocky repeated.

“I wish you well when you walk out of here.”

“Thank you.”

Rocky turned away and walked to the door. It opened without him touching it. He walked into the street. He saw Beatrice against the opposite wall. Clavio Aiella pushed against her. He held a hunting knife with a curved blade.

“Arongo gave you to me,” he laughed. “You are mine to do with as I wish.”

“I’m not going to be your slave,” Beatrice yelled. “You go to hell.”

“If I do, I’m taking you with me.” He grabbed her arm to pull her to him.

She hit him with her fist and grabbed his arm that held the knife. “I may stick that in you myself,” she screamed. She spun Clavio around and hit him again.

Clavio was agile. He wrenched his arm away from Beatrice’s grip and cut at her and missed.

She pulled a long metal pen from her hair. Rocky watched in fascination. This might be a good learning experience. He was also learning something about the woman who was his back in Tecate. She was obviously more than she was letting on.

Clavio saw Rocky. His face was filled with anger. “You gonna let her do what you were supposed to do.”

“Hey partner, you called the shot. You gotta live or die with it. I think it may be the latter.”

“Clavio lunged forward, to meet a fist full of hair pen.”

“Aheeeeee, he screamed. He sliced Beatrice’s arm with his blade.

“You little bastard, I’m bleeding.”

He leaped out at her swinging the blade, but missed. His arm was extended. Beatrice grabbed it, throwing her body against it. It snapped at the joint of the elbow. She gave him several elbows in his face, grabbed his knife and   gave him several quick jabs to his chest. He fell limp on the pavement.

“You still want me now, Clavio?” Beatrice screamed and kicked at the bleeding body.

Clavio was still alive, but bleeding. His body fluid filled the pavement cracks around his body. Rocky was impressed. He had a lot of blood for a little guy.

“I may want to cut his dick off,” hissed Beatrice.

“No Beatrice, you’ve done your work. Let‘s take ourselves somewhere else and find Arongo.”

“Oh Rocky, I feel so shamed that you had to watch what I had to do.”

“That’s okay. It told me a lot about you. You don’t have any more hair pins do you?”

“No I don’t sweetheart.”

“Rocky wondered.”

 

 

Just below that sign, in the foreground, is the In-Ko-Pah Spirit Mountains.

Rocky had been warned to stay away from them. They’re in Mexico. Below that line, anything can happen.

Read more about Rocky and his ‘adventures’ Monday.

     Her name is Beatris and getting into Rocky’s pickup was a squeeze . She shimmied and shook herself onto the seat. She still carried the shotgun, but not pointed at Rocky.

“Where we going?” she asked.

“Thought you said Arango was with a bimbo in Tecate.”

“Okay, I may get him and her, bam, bam.” She said gesturing recoil with the shotgun.

“That’s exactly what you should not do.”

They drove for an hour. Beatris was quiet, but gave Rocky affectionate looks. She seemed content and relaxed.

Entering Tecate, they were stopped by a policeman. “Ola, Beatris, where you been?”

“Hanging out with Aronga Mota,” she crooned.

“Oh, sweetheart, he’s lowlife, why him?”

“I’m going to fix him.” Beatris rested the shotgun out the window.

“Oh no, you can’t do that. We’d have to come and get you. All the boys, been asking of you.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“You know, they say, where’s that girl with all the nice things?”

“Oh, they have not.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Now you got a new man, eh?”

“No, he’s helping me look for Arango.”

“Yeah, I know him. He does things for Roberto Cruz. I feel sorry for Arango.”

“Where is my sweet Arango? Have you seen him?”

“No,” he looked at Rocky. “And if I did know I couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not.”

The policeman nodded at Rocky. “Because I know what’s going to happen to Arango, if I do.” He drove off shaking his head.

“Let me drop you off at the police station. You know those guys,” Rocky suggested. “They’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t want me with you?”

“No, not with that shotgun you’re carrying.”

“I’ll leave it in the truck.”

“You’ll behave? No screaming or fighting.”

“I like you, I wanna be with you.”

“Okay just leave the gun here and empty the loads.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“No, not once.”

Beatris opened the breech, and the two rounds popped out.

Rocky took it and put it behind the seat with the two loads. They got out of the truck. Beatris looked into the side rearview and adjusted her hair, shifted her outfit and freshened her lipstick. She smiled at the results and slid her arm around Rocky’s. Rocky accepted her gesture and they began their walk down Pliego Street.

“It’s a nice day for a walk,” she whispered.

Good news ran through Rocky’s head. Here was his truck. The driver was a creature who called himself Bonerag. “Thanks Bonerag,” Rocky nodded.

Bonerag growled back, “Fusss yousss. All the bone people hissed.

He looked inside and brushed away the dead skin fragments. He got in and started the engine and looked for his phone in the glove box. There were nine messages from Roberto Cruz, police captain and head of the Mexicali Cartel. He was screaming in the last message.“

“Call me you lame mouthed pendejo. Where’s Hector?”

Rocky pushed the last message and the phone dialed. It was eleven in the morning and warming up. It might be hot today. It rang, No answer. Then, “what the fuck, hello.”

“It’s Rocky.”

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, but there’s complications.”

“Don’t care about your problems. I want my stuff.” This was from a guy who already had millions.

“The Camineros Muertes have it.”

“The dead truckers, who are they.”

“Guess you’re not familiar with local folk lore.”

“Another cartel,” Bullshit.”

“You won’t believe this, but it’s a gang of dead people.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Dead people don’t steal. They’re dead because they did steal.”

“Well, these guys are dead and they’re holding Hector.”

“Fuck Hector, get back the goods.”

“I’ll be looking for Arongo Mota, in that case.”

“Yeah, he stole my stuff.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Make sure you do him nasty. Get Arongo, Hector can take care of himself.”

“I gave Hector my word I’d get him back.”

“Fuck Hector, get Arongo.” Then Rocky’s phone went dark. Cruz had hung up.

Roberto Cruz was only about Roberto Cruz, a spoiled rich kid from a powerful family. What an asshole. In Cruz’s mind people were just tools. But he paid his tools very well.

Rocky drove in the direction of Mexicali. He slowed when he came to the Laguna Salada. It was a flat sandy stretch that was considered to be the extreme tip of Sea of Cortez. Arongo Mota lived in an elaborate tent next to a hot spring. He called himself the Sheik of the Salada. He was a dangerous character who enjoyed hurting people.

 

     For what she was, she looked interesting. Some kind of erotic power still clung to her. The female creature, skeletal, skin hanging from her bones, yet endowed with curves, macabre, yet somehow had a seductive allure.

She looked at Rocky, the light in her eyes were flickering gray spots that filled emotionless cavities.

“I’m looking at you and I know what you do for a living.”

“Like everyone else, I have to work to earn my keep.”

“Yes, it’s just that what you do is so unique. You maybe have made some of my friends.”

“What did you do before you became what you are?”

“Answer my question first.”

“I take out the trash.” Rocky’s remark was delivered in a serious tone.

“That’s one way of putting it.” I like you. Why don’t you come over to us?”

Her tone was suggestive. But Rocky only saw a skeleton that was once a beautiful woman. Her skin hung but some areas had captivating curves that offered physical promise.

“No, that’s not for me.”

“But what about your friend?”

“No, no,” Hector groaned, “I don’t want to be bones.”

There were angry growls from the creatures that held Hector.

“What was your name,” asked Rocky.

“It’s not, was. I’m still Lucille.”

“You seem to know what I do. What did you do?”

“I was an entertainer,” Lucille laughed and adjusted her top. “I made house calls.”

“I figured that,” Rocky offered a sad smile.

“You’re guessing.”

Rocky shook his head and looked at Hector. “What do I need to do to get my friend out of here?”

“Because I like you I’ll let you trade him for someone else.”

“Alive or dead?”

“Better be alive, or the deals off.”

“I’ll need my truck.”

Lucille nodded to one of the bony guys and he left in one of the rigs.

“Just don’t take too long,” Lucille’s look was serious.

“Hey buddy, I’ll be back for you as soon as possible.”

“I know Rocky, just make it quick. Please.”