David Levien - City of the Sun

Esteban heard the shriek from inside the room down the hall and it stopped him from what he was doing. He wiped his bloody hands on the front of his pants as he ran down the hall. He tried the knob and found the door locked.

“ їPatrуn? ” he called out and banged on the door. “ їPatrуn? ” He put an ear against the door and finally heard Don Ramon ’ s voice.

“ Estб bien. Todo es tranquilo. Tranquilo…” came through the door.

“їNecesita algo usted?”

“ No, nada ” was all that came back. Esteban waited there for another moment, but on hearing nothing further, he returned down the hall to continue his work.

Ponceterra rested on his knees for a moment and slowly realized that the blade hadn ’ t killed him and was not going to, that it was a flesh wound. He peeled open his shirt for a closer inspection, the fine linen shredding around the embedded metal. He stood and felt a surge of power run through his body. Whether it was seeing his fresh blood or his own inner clock, he decided the wait had gone on long enough. Circumstance had brought him here today. And today it would begin at last. He worked at the cravat around his neck, his fingers fumbling at the knot in their excitement, and he realized he had been right, that he could live forever. I CAN LIVE FOREVER. He heard the words in his head. He felt triumph and confirmation, and also desire. He looked toward the rubio. The veil of the special had been lifted. After all his kindness and patience, this is how the rubio had repaid him. The boy was a piece of meat to him now, and it was time to feed. He moved toward the boy, speaking low.

Eres mi posesiуn, mi tesoro. Eres mi carne…

And that ’ s when the noise started.

Behr held the shotgun at port arms and twice kicked the front door hard near the knob. The fiberglass door bowed but didn ’ t open. He ’ d have it with another half-dozen tries, but he didn ’ t have the time. The car waited behind them, and beyond it the body of the guard lay motionless. Behr leveled the shotgun and fired, spending a shell blowing away the knob and chunks of the jamb. The door swung open. He handed the gun to Paul.

“Four rounds left in it.” Behr could scarcely imagine a scenario in which Paul would get the chance to reload. “Don ’ t forget about those dogs.”

They entered the building. Behr pulled out his pistol and led the way into a fussily decorated parlor. Someone had made an attempt to create an elegant old Mexican look but had succeeded only in making it cheap and tawdry. Behr nodded down a hallway lined with closed doors and Paul advanced that way while Behr continued on into a sitting room.

Paul kicked the first door open, falling to the ground for cover as he entered. A man wearing a holster, his gun already drawn, shot a naked, dark-haired teenage boy twice in the back and then turned the gun on himself, putting a round through his own temple before Paul could get to his feet and do it for him.

Behr registered the shots as he had made his way through the empty sitting room and went through a closed door. He found himself in a large dormitory-style room with three or four sets of bunk beds. A warm breeze greeted him as a metal grate had been peeled back and a window smashed. Looking out, Behr could see the lithe bodies of four or five dark-haired teens racing over the horse crippler and, as their feet were bare, hopping in pain, before making it through the front gate, which was swinging open and still abandoned. They continued on, around sagebrush and tarbush, and into the distance.

He left the room and reentered the main part of the house when behind him he heard the clink of a metal chain, then a growl, and turned to see the dogs coming at him in a staggered pair. He let them come. Their teeth bared and eyes mad and black, they were a tableau of fury. He raised his. 44 at the lead animal ’ s open mouth and fired. The dog slid to his feet in a heap, its face blown off by the hollow-point round. Behr heard the word “ Mierda! ” through the ringing in his ears caused by the shot. Out of the corner of his eye Behr saw the man who had released the dogs turn and run. Before Behr could redirect his weapon, the second dog leaped. Behr leveled a forearm and the dog went for it like it was a training exercise, colliding with Behr and taking him to the ground. He felt a bolt of lightning shoot through him as the Presa ’ s teeth went through his jacket, shirt, and then the flesh of his bad arm. The dog, a writhing mass of power, ripped its head from side to side, threatening to dislocate the arm. When it had and the arm was dead, Behr knew the dog would release it and move for his groin or his throat and he ’ d be done. He gouged the dog ’ s eye with his thumb, but the animal ignored it, so Behr took to fishing around in space with his right hand. Behr realized that when the dog had brought him down, he ’ d dropped his gun…

Paul continued on through two other rooms that contained shag carpeting, neatly made beds, and temporary-looking fiberglass sinks but were empty of people. He pushed the last door open. A slim, aged man came toward him, shirtless, covered in blood and wailing incomprehensible Spanish. A silver piece of metal protruded from his chest. And against the wall, partially obscured, was Jamie. He was taller now, very thin, and with blood on his hands. Their eyes locked in a split second ’ s recognition, which Paul broke by gun-butting the wailing man in the side of the head as he tried to barrel out of the room. The blow contained more than seventeen months ’ worth of frustration, agony, and fury, and the man went sideways, his skull yielding to the shotgun ’ s stock like an overripe melon, then collapsed to the ground and didn ’ t move again. The man ’ s breathing became a gurgle, weak and irregular, and then grew inaudible. Paul moved jerkily across the room. It seemed his legs would hardly function, and his knees wouldn ’ t bend. He looked into his son ’ s eyes in wonder at the brokenness he saw there. He reached out and felt his boy ’ s shoulders, thin but strong under his hands. He was alive. Paul grabbed his son in an embrace.

“Dad,” the boy said, the word muffled in Paul ’ s chest. “They stole my bike, Daddy…”

“Jamie, shh,” Paul said, then disengaged and spun toward the door as he heard someone enter.

Get up! Behr commanded himself. Get the fuck up, Frank. He could squat four hundred pounds easy, and though the dog weighed a third of that, having the thing swinging from his arm changed the equation. He managed to roll to a knee and drove the animal against the wall. Thin wood paneling buckled and snapped free, but the dog didn ’ t disengage. Behr tried to drop his weight on the dog, to crush it, but the thing writhed and squirmed and endured no damage. Behr ’ s feet were beneath him now, and moving. Improbably the image of a blocking sled flashed in his mind from his high school football days. He continued on a few steps and the struggling pair crashed through a temporary bar setup. Broken bottles rained down around them, and Behr felt his hip grinding in broken glass. He found a bottleneck with his loose hand and drove it into the underbelly of the dog. The glass just crumbled and could not penetrate the dog ’ s thick hide. Finally the Presa let go of his arm, but there was no relief. It lunged for his throat. Behr tucked his chin. The dog ’ s skull slammed into his jaw, and he was almost knocked out by the blow. The dog sunk its teeth into Behr ’ s upper chest and hung on. Behr threw himself down on the animal again, beginning to lose hope. They landed among the broken glassware once more, and also on a cutting board and a half dozen limes. And a paring knife.

The shotgun was leaning against the wall where Paul had rested it, and it may as well have been in the car for all the good it would do him, for coming at him quickly, with smooth, assured steps, was a sinewy man with blood speckled all over his shirt and face and smeared on his pants. That was all Paul had time to register as he was grabbed around both arms and had his feet swept out from under him. He went down hard on his shoulder and ribs, the air crushed out of him. A tunnel of blackness swallowed him for a moment and then opened back up into a searing flash of white light.