More Than Eyes Alone Can See
More Than Eyes Alone Can See
xmlns:st1="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"
xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40">
----------------------------------------------------------------
She watched from the upper window of a building across the
street from where the slaughter was taking place.
alike had battled for dominance . . . for victory.
unfortunate for the soldiers that the people of Culíacan actually believe in
what they’re fighting for.
defend the president, they’d surrender.
But when ethics and beliefs get involved, things have a tendency to get
rather messy. The best
All because loyalty can be so unpredictable and so easily triggered.
“The streets may not run red with blood tonight, but when the setting sun hits
these streets and buildings of clay, it’s going to appear as if they are.”
//Señora?
injured?
The woman turned
from her vantage point to address the young boy who had also sought refuge in
this formerly abandoned loft. //Marcos,
if I went down there right now, it is likely that I would either be shot on
sight by both sides, or taken prisoner by the cartel.
lightly. And if I were taken by his men,
how would I help your friend? she nodded towards the
street outside.
//Is he going to be
all right? “I don’t know,
Marcos. If what you tell me is true,
then he has lost a lot of blood. It’s
within the realm of possibility that he is still living, but I can’t do
anything for him until things quiet down out there.”
afraid that the American was indeed dead.
As much as she would love to undo as much of Barillo’s work as she
could, she almost hoped that the man was dead.
Surely that would be far kinder than what the cartel leader had done to
him.
But even as she
thought this, the man moved his head. He
struggled to move his body, bringing his mutilated visage up to face the
sun. She understood the desire not to
die with one’s face in the dirt.
//Señora!
//Sí, Marcos.
It appears as if he is indeed still alive.
building caught her eye and brought her wandering mind to a sharp focus.
Ajedrez.
The woman was beautiful, her face a study in cold and cruel
perfection. Most men were fooled by the
fullness of her lips, the lushness of her body, but she knew better. Knew
exactly what kind of product had been created by Ajedrez’s upbringing.
The woman was
looking out the window that had just minutes ago housed the image of the
president, and had more recently served as an exit for a man with several guns
and a sash that resembled the Mexican flag.
She was scanning the street below, apparently pissed that her father’s
plans had gone so far awry. Then, with
the suddenness of undeterable determination, she disappeared from view.
there in the dirt who sparked her interest?
As much as she disliked Ajedrez, she had no interest in a confrontation
with the woman. Especially when she was
unarmed and her opponent wasn’t.
//Marcos, will you please bring me my holster?
//But señora, I
thought yore are a doctor. What use does
a doctor have for a gun?
She looked at the
boy with a sad, wistful look on her face.
//Even doctors have to protect themselves at times, Marcos.
attention to the street, waiting to find out what her adversary’s next move
was.
Ajedrez appeared in
the street outside the two buildings.
She threw a quick glance up at the window where the lone woman was still
standing. She pursed her lips as she
mimicked firing a handgun. Then she
winked.
get my gun. Now!
agent’s position. Without a doubt she
was out for blood. For more blood.
//Here, señora.
weapon from its holster.
before the thought could be translated into deed, Ajedrez had reached the black
clad man lying in the road. She pulled
him up. By the way he staggered and was
holding his left arm it was a painful experience for him.
blocking any shot she might have been able to take at Ajedrez.
One of you move. She watched
as the former AFN agent picked a pair of sunglasses up out of the dirt and slid
them onto the man’s face. She felt her
stomach turn as the heartless woman below toyed with her prey, kissing him
gently. That self-serving, heartless. . .
cheerfully shot Ajedrez, and not looked back.
But before she would take any kind of action in more than her mind’s
eye, she saw Ajedrez stumble back from the man she had been toying with.
surprise and shock on her face. Still
looking up at a man who couldn’t see her, she fell to her knees and then to her
back.
man also collapsed, his own knees buckling under his weight.
loss. He’s going into a state of
shock. He’s going to need medical
attention real soon.
race down to tend him when she felt a chill run down her spine.
Once again the window
in what had once been the president’s private residence framed a figure.
last six years cleaning up after.
Despite the mass of medical gauze that obscured his face, she knew it
was him. Knew
it was Barillo.
She observed as he
spotted his daughter lying in the dirt of the unpaved road, next to the man he
had tried to punish and prevent from meddling any father in his private
plans. It hadn’t worked.
stubborn.
She watched as the
cartel leader’s eyes rose from the street to the surrounding buildings, to the
window she was standing in. She saw the
recognition, loathing, and unbelievable rage take up residence in his
eyes. Crap.
Before Barillo
could kill her with the sheer force of his hate-filled eyes, something or
someone in the room with him called his attention away.
seconds. Then there was a sudden round
of gunfire and his body came flying out the
window. He hit the ground hard, glass
fragments raining down around him like frozen tears.
no way he could have survived that. He
couldn’t have. If he was dead, then
she was finally free.
Go make sure.
She turned from her
window for the last time that day, and found behind her an empty room.
to the health of his friend.
Get downstairs, check on Barillo and Ajedrez, and then look after the American.
Barillo’s last victim. My last
charge.
******************************
The sun was
starting to set on this bloody Day of the Dead.
Not that night would bring peace, or wipe the streets clean of
blood. It wouldn’t bring and end to the
fights, the riots, or chaos caused by the attempted coup.
to carry out. Sounds of destruction and
mayhem floated on the sun’s setting rays to reach the ears of the doctor.
She ignored the
melody of hovering death as she worked her way across the street.
of partially dried blood marked the course he had taken.
Marcos is safe with him.
wide berth, she headed towards the place where Barillo had landed.
no need to search for a pulse. If the
angle of his neck and the arrested spread of blood across his chest was any
indication, then the cartel leader was well and truly dead.
She felt relief and
guilt flood her veins along with the knowledge that she’d never need to track
this man’s movements, never again need to clean up the ruin he left in his
wake. She was released from her oath.
Freed from her duty . . . except for the American.
she could celebrate.
Quickly she walked
back to where Ajedrez was lying. The
man’s trail started there. The sooner
they were tucked away from the sight of what remained of Marquez’s men, the
safer they would be, and the better she would feel.
//Traitor.
whispered word caught her attention. She
looked down at the body at her feet.
Barillo’s daughter wasn’t yet dead, but from the amount of blood
staining the ground underneath and around her, she soon would be.
//You call me a traitor,
but I’m not the one that just tried to overthrow the established
government. And failed miserably, I
might add.\
//You betrayed your family.\
Eyes and voice
cold, the lone woman replied, //I have no family.
I simply had people who found it was in their best interest to exploit
me. People like you.\
Ajedrez didn’t
bother to reply to this. //Father . . .
is he dead?
//As dead as you’ll
be in a few moments.
Years of cruelty and indifference were reaping their wages.
//Damn you, you
bitch. They
dying woman coughed painfully.
Watching without
pity or mercy, she answered, //I think that one damned bitch is enough for one
family. I’ll remain a simple bastard, if
it’s all the same to you.\
//Go to hell.\
//I think that’s
your trip, actually. Do you want me to
see you off?
There was no reply to this question.
No breath stirred the dust.
//Guess not.
She left the woman lying in the dirt that she had avoided for so
much of her life. The dirt she had let
others handle by having them do the messy and degenerate jobs required by the
cartel. Irony was a great thing.
make peace with.
******************************
She found Marcos
and the wounded man nearly three blocks away.
She arrived just in time to see him flip another man off.
undoubtedly both insulting and profane.
Amazingly, he was still on his feet, although it did appear as if the
wall at his back was doing just as much (if not more) to keep him upright as
his legs were.
She was unsure of
how to approach him, knowing there was no way she’d have his instant trust, or
even gratitude. Surely after the
treatment he had received at the hands of the cartel, he was going to be . . .
wary . . . of trusting a stranger.
to tie him to the bed and then pumping him full of sedatives?
She stood idly by as
she pondered that question, all too aware that every moment in the open upped
the risk of being caught while trying to get to her house.
silent, even the sound of her sneakers on the pavement silenced or drowned out
by the distant sounds of fighting. Not
even Marcos had noticed that she had managed to track them down, but that was
unlikely to last long.
of action before she was noticed.
pan>pan>//Señor, are you
alright?
//I don’t know.\
Marcos smiled.
The man neither
agreed nor disputed this statement. He
leaned his head back against the stucco wall that was helping him stay on his
feet. His face was a gory mess of dried
and fresh blood. His left sleeve and
both pant-legs were caked with blood as well.
Even against the black of his clothes it was possible to see it.
still be conscious, let alone on his feet.
She was puzzled by his stamina.
It had to be more than simple willpower keeping him vertically
situated. Drugs. If they gave him
something to keep him aware as they removed his eyes, then it could still be in
his system. Which would explain
Her
centered in them so prominently.
“Kid, get me outta
here.” He held out a hand in Marcos’
general direction.
If he trusts Marcos, then I can use that.
took the man’s gloved hand. He started
to lead the man back down the street, back to where he had left her – towards
the official residence which now more closely resembled a charnel house than a
place the president had stayed.
“No.
We just came from that direction.
Lots of big, dumb, hired asses ready to shoot
me on sight. Take me someplace else.”
When Marcos started
explaining in a barrage of Spanish that was hardly recognizable since it was so
full of street slang, she decided it was time to make her appearance.
explain what he was intending to do, she said, “Actually Marcos’ sense of
direction is surprisingly well developed for such a young boy.”
his face in her general vicinity and went for his handgun.
“Who are you?”
“A friend of your
rather loyal guide. He asked me to come
help you.” As she spoke the gun honed in
on her position. Clearly this man was a
threat no matter how disabled he was.
“An>“And that makes you
qualified or trustworthy how, sweetie?”
She ignored the
part of her that said this was a dangerous situation and that she needed to run
before she was shot.
anyway. Replying to his question,
she said, “I’m qualifiecauscause I’ve spent the past six years mending various
bruises, cuts, gashes, gouges, and broken bones.
medical school.” She shrugged rather needlessly.
does. That and I am possibly the only
person in all Culíacan who doesn’t want to kill you.
more than you trust me.” She watched him
weave on his feet. “And if we don’t get
you somewhere where you can lie down, you’ll collapse right here in the
street. Easy prey for the cartel, the
military, or any passing citizens who don’t like gringos.”
hospital, I can arrange for that as well.”
“No.
Too accessible.” He lowered his
arm, the the gun remained in his hand.
“Mmm.
sound out deliberately. They were loud
enough to be heard over the faint sounds of fightinpan
pan
style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He tracked her, tracked the sound she
made. It was almost creepy if she let
herself dwell on the fact that he had no eyes yet was still perfectly able to
tell where she was.
“I’m going to place
myself on your right side, señor.
she looked around, “and it would be best if we were quickly on our way.
He shook his
head. “I hate to argue with a lady,
can keep a weapon trained on you.” He
heard her footsteps stop.
“You want to
support yourself with your wounded arm?”
Her tone was disbelieving. “Are
you sure that’s a good idea? You’ve
already lost a great deal of blood. I’m
not sure that you can afford to lose any more.
And we still need to get to my house.
I’d rather not jostle that arm unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“You’re more
concerned about my blood cell count than you are about me shooting you.
I’m practical. I was expecting
you to do or demand something along those lines.
else.” He felt a hand on his arm – his
right arm. Apparently she didn’t have a
great deal of respect for his wishes.
“Just keep your gun in your right hand, like this,” she raised his arm
so that it rested around her shoulders.
The barrel of his gun was resting lightly against her breastbone.
decide that I’m up to no good, and I can keep you from falling flat on your
face and doing yourself yet another injury.”
“Lady, you’re
nuts.”
“You’re not the
first one to suggest that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
around the man’s slim waist, she said, “Okay, let’s start moving.”
******************************
Sands was sure that
he had somehow managed to stray into hell.
Every step emphasized the pain in his legs, his arm, and his head.
pain had spread and merged to become a single sheet of fire that was slowly
consuming his sanity. Or what was left
of it.
The woman at his
side hadn’t spoken a word since they had set off.
was roughly the same height as he – it made it easier to use her as a crutch.
Oh, the pain was
going to drive him crazier than a mad cow.
There had to be a way to distract himself.
by imaging the look on that bitch’s face when I shot her.
Imagine the look, hadn’t seen it, couldn’t see
it because he had no eyes, which was
why he had shot Ajedrez in the first place.
Well, that and she had betrayed him.
That didn’t work well.
wrist to help keep it in place contracted sporadically, then
relaxed.
“Most people call
me Tess.” Her voice was completely
neutral, purposely void of any kind of emotion.
“Why’s that?”
leave him to die in the dirt instead of dragging him through what he was
beginning to imagine purgatory was like.
“Because that’s
what I tell them to call me.”
‘Tess’?”
“’Fraid not.”
“So, what?
or something?”
“No.
one. In their way of thinking, bastards
aren’t deserving of last names.” This
was said so matter-of-factly, yet with a very strong “drop it” vibe that Sands
knew that this topic would probably piss her off faster than any other.
“If I wanted you to
know that, I probably would have volunteered the information.
only got one more block to go.”
“What can I
say? I’m bored.
sightseeing.” He let the subject drop
for the time being. He was quickly
losing the strength to irritate his guide.
“So, what’s for dinner?”
******************************
“Know what?”
patient up the three flights of stairs from the street, and semi-nervous from
the thought that her door could be knocked in at any moment.
residence safely, but they hadn’t escaped scrutiny.
escorting wounded today. We couldn’t
have looked that out of place.
was covered in blood from pretty much head to toe, was wearing sunglasses long
past the time when the sun had set, and a black sequined vest, she revised that
thought. Hopefully we didn’t look too
out of place.
“Are you going to
answer my question or are you going to stand there like a lackwit with your ass
bare and your pants around your ankles?”
“What?”
No. Actually it’s you who’s going
to be caught with his pants down, although I assure you that you’re rear will
be covered at all times.” She turned
from the bed for a moment. “Marcos?”
//Sí, señora
//Will you get the
really big pair of scissors from my left hand desk drawer and bring them here
and ran off. When she returned her gaze
to the bed, she found her guest slumped against the wall.
He raised his
uninjured arm, pointing a gun with an attached silencer at her.
me?” he shot back in a reasonable yet too-controlled voice.
day. A trying week, in fact.
can answer my questions, or I can give you your own wounds to tend to.”
******************************
Tess supposed he
had a point, but that didn’t mean she had any desire to have a conversation
while staring down the barrel of a gun.
“You can put that away, señor.
of here under your own power.” The gun
didn’t waver.
//Señor!
Tess waved a hand in his direction.
She’d answer his questions as long as it suited her to do so.
to ensure that everything that could be done to atone for the sins of the
Barillo family was done.
“You want to know
how I found you?
Your little friend here found me and asked me to take a look at
you. I agreed.
blood nearly from my doorstep to your location.”
“Why?”
“Why did I help
you?” Tess shrugged before she
remembered that he couldn’t see that. “I
enjoy tweaking the cartel’s whiskers when I can.
list for who is due swift and inproportionate retribution seemed as if it would
fit in with that agenda. In short, I’m
using you to spite them. Even though Barillo
is dead, and the cartel in temporary anarchy until a new leader murders his way
to power.” She crossed her arms over her
chest. “I suppose that I ought to thank
you for that. It’ll get some heat off my
tail long enough to disappear.”
Sands ignored that
last bit. “Why is it so important to you
to meddle in the cartel’s affairs?”
This was treading
close to the line that Tess didn’t want to cross.
In a deceptively
patient voice he said, “A lack of information can get a man in deep shit, as I
have so very recently rediscovered. I
have no desire to repeat the experience any time soon.
question, niña.”
“The cartel ruined
my life a long time ago. Stole any hope
of normality that I might have harbored.
But I’m not the only one who’s been hurt.
countless thousands with his violence, and his greed, and his drugs.
that. To piss him off as much as I could
and in doing so, try to restore the balance his family owes.”
you’re the last piece. The final weight.
when a bolt of pain worse than any of the others ripped through his head.
it! His entire body responded to it,
trying to escape the pain. That just
made things worse. His bullet wounds
reflexively.
Tess heard a harsh
intake of breath come from the man on the bed.
She spun around (she had been pacing) only to witness his futile
attempts to escape the pain.
been receiving instructions to sound the alarm.
That something is wrong. As
she was thinking this, she rushed to the bed, her mind also racing through all
the things that needed to be done, her will uncertain as to whether she could
carry it all out.
******************************
Sands felt his gun
fall from his hand as the pain finally receded to bearable levels.
his wrist, checking his pulse. From the
softly muttered Spanish curses that reached his ears, he knew that whatever his
hostess had found couldn’t be good.
However, when she spoke, there was nothing but calm and impersonal
professionalism in her voice.
“We need to stop
the bleeding and get you cleaned up.”
Where are you!?\
//Here, señora.
Sands, and sure enough, there he was standing idly by, concern in his
eyes. //The señor is going to be okay,
right?
She took the
scissors from him. //I certainly hope
so. Will you please go and get the black
case you’ll find under my bathroom sink and bring it here?
nodded and left the room. “Good
kid.” Addressing her next words to the
man sitting on her bed, she said, “Well, I’ve told you what people call
me. You want to return the favor and
give me something to call you?”
“Like my name?”
“That would work,
but so would a pseudonym if you don’t entirely trust me.
what to call him.”
Sands smirked.
Tess raised her
eyebrows. “That is not your name.”
“No.
But it’s been a fantasy of mine to find a woman who would call me
that. parents gave me.”
“O-
just trailed off. She really hadn’t been
expecting that name. she
was called back to the task at hand when she heard Sands start grinding his
teeth as another wave of pain flooded his system.
could see he was gripping the bed covers with his good hand.
and his muscles clench against the need to curl up in a fetal position.
wounds and trailing down his face.
She waited for the
pain to recede again before saying, “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”
Marcos come back into the bedroom, dragging her smallish trunk of medical
supplies after him.
“We’re going to
need to soak the areas around your bullet wounds.
would prefer to not just rip that off.
And you’d probably prefer that too.”
Sands didn’t respond.
She sighed.
more thing for me before I send you home for the night.
water from the kitchen?
carry out his task.
Tess got down to
her own work, removing Sands’ gloves, boots, socks, munitions belts (which she
sat on the floor by the bed within easy reach of either of them), and his
regular belt. Then she fetched a
hairband from her nightstand.
pink? Gently she got Sands to move
his head away from the wall, and more gently still she pulled his hair back out
of his face. Several of the brown locks
were encrusted with dried blood just like the rest of him.
//Señora –
with the water she needed. She could
tell that he was unhappy with the prospect of being sent home.
begging.
that you are still alive. Go now, before
twilight fades entirely. Keep away from
the fighting. You can come back tomorrow
and visit with your friend then, but make sure you come in through the back
door. Comprendés?”
He looked
thoroughly miserable, but he replied, //Sí, señora.
the room. //Hasta luego, señor.
he disappeared from view.
******************************
When she heard the
door shut, Tess dipped a clean cloth into the waiting water.
warmer.
“Why’d you make the
kid leave?”
“I didn’t want him
corrupted.”
“Why,
your bed for that reason.”
“I don’t.
bullets out of you and poking you with needles.
Something tells me that some choice language will be flying around, and
I prefer that that is not the English he learn.”
on the wound in Sands’ left thigh. About
to repeat the procedure on his right leg, she realized that this might be
easier if he were lying down.
if he’s sitting up.
“What are you
doing?”
“Wondering what the
best way to get you out of your clothing is.”
“Ooh.
raging hard-on.”
Tess rolled her
eyes. “I wouldn’t count on that,
more than you should have and still be conscious, but I’ll be applying Novocain
to those wounds before removing the bullets and stitching them up.
“Fun-sucker.”
leg. Shortly after that, he felt the bed
beneath him move as his hostess sat down.
He found out what she was doing when he felt another wet cloth start
being held against his injured arm. The
water trickling through the cloths, through his clothing, and over his skin was
distracting.
Tess watched her
patient’s face for any signs of distress.
It showed none. After five
minutes or so of silence had gone by, she removed the cloth she’d been holding
to his arm. “Let’s see how well that
worked.” With extreme care, she plucked
at the lose fabric of his shirt sleeve, slowly moving in towards the hole in
his flesh. “Tell me if this starts to
hurt or pull and we’ll soak it for a bit longer.”
him nod.
She had to soak the
wound one more time before she was able to remove Sands’ shirt.
clinical and detached doctor (more to suppress unmerited guilt and pity than
anything else) she couldn’t help noticing just how attractive her patient
was. The chest underneath the black
shirt was lean and tan, with just the barest suggestions of the musculature underneath
his skin. She couldn’t help but keep her
fingers from brushing against his skin as she tried to undo the buttons.
Suddenly aware of
what she was doing, she laid a hand flat on his chest.
hand. “Damn it,” she whispered.
“Something
wrong? I mean, normally I wouldn’t dream
of interrupting what is obviously an intimate moment for you –”
“No.
am. I thought that the drug that
Barillo’s men had given you would arrest the onset of shock as well as the delayed
feelings of pain. It must have, but the
drugs are wearing off. You’re going into
shock. Why didn’t you tell me you were
cold?” He shrugged.
Stay here, try not to move that arm.
I’m going to go get a blanket for you.”