Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

McKinney felt a sting in her hand and noticed an IV drip running from a needle taped in place in the top of her right hand. It led to an IV bag on a stand nearby. Her right leg felt tight near her pelvis, as though wrapped in bandages-and a biting pain came to her from somewhere deep in her upper thigh. She felt the tautness of stitches.

There was a gentle keek-keek sound.

McKinney looked to the footboard. A large raven regarded her and extended its wings. It then ruffled its throat and head feathers. Caw.

McKinney’s voice came out hoarsely. “Muninn.” She wasn’t sure why she knew the bird was female. Perhaps it was something in the bird’s manner. She just felt like she knew.

The raven caw ed loudly several times, then flew off between the gauzy curtains and out the window.

There were footsteps, and the heavy bedroom door opened to reveal an elderly woman with a deeply tanned, timeworn face. Her long gray hair was wrapped tightly, and she wore a dress of rough brown cloth with a richly embroidered white apron and collar.

McKinney nodded to her.

The old woman spoke soothingly. “Kehaca ti ictok.” She held up one hand.

McKinney tried to remember what Spanish she’d mastered on previous expeditions to South America. But then, she’d spent more time in the Amazon basin. Portuguese wasn’t going to help. Even so, this didn’t sound like Spanish. She cleared her throat and spoke in slow English. “Where is this place?”

The old woman smiled kindly, holding her arm and patting it gently. “Ni we-wen ci.” She turned to the heavy oak door bound by black iron hinges. “Lalenia! Lalenia!” The old woman’s powerful voice startled McKinney. Dogs barked from somewhere outside. McKinney tried to sit up a bit in bed.

More footsteps, and in a moment the heavy door opened again, revealing a much younger Latina in jeans and a white shirt. Her long black hair was tied back to reveal a beautiful almond-shaped face with mocha brown skin. She approached the bed and smiled, motioning to the old woman as she spoke in that same language. “Wala seh yanok Raton. ”

Then the younger woman turned to McKinney and spoke in Spanish-accented English. “How do you feel, Professor McKinney?”

McKinney looked around the room. “Weak. Where am I?”

“You’re in Tamaulipas near Kalitlen.” At McKinney’s blank stare she added, “Rural Mexico.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

The young woman leaned over to say something quietly to the elderly woman, who nodded and left. The young woman then approached the side of the bed, producing a penlight from her shirt pocket. “You’ve been unconscious for several days. You lost a great deal of blood, and we’ve been rebuilding your platelet count.”

McKinney kept her eyes open as the woman checked her pupil dilation with the light. “I got shot.”

“Yes, I know. The bullet nicked your femoral artery.” The doctor lowered the penlight. “You were very lucky the damage wasn’t worse.”

McKinney remembered wrestling with a hellish toy-one whose brain she’d helped design. “Yes.” She felt suddenly very tired.

“Mooch is a talented surgeon. He was able to stop the bleeding, but it was close. And having O-positive blood probably saved your life.”

“Who are you?”

The woman placed a hand on her own chest. “I am Doctor Garza. You can call me Lalenia. We are in a very remote part of Mexico here. We don’t engage in formalities.”

“Your English is excellent.”

“I went to medical school in the States.”

“What was that other language?”

“That was Huastec, a Mayan dialect. My family has owned land here for generations. Rosario taught it to me when I was very young.”

“Medical school. Your parents must be proud.”

The young doctor became subdued. “My parents are no longer with me.” She took McKinney’s pulse, listening for several moments.

The door opened again, and this time a well-toned and muscular African-American man with a smooth bald head entered. He wore a Nike tank top shirt and cargo shorts. He was a striking male specimen in perfect physical shape. But what surprised McKinney was that he was missing both his legs beneath the knees. In their place were metal alloy prosthetic legs that he employed with such grace, she would never have known it if he weren’t wearing shorts. The prosthetic limbs ended in brightly colored running shoes that he apparently tied on just like anyone else.

Lalenia brightened considerably when he entered. “Raton, look who’s up.”

The muscular man smiled a tight, distorted smile as he walked to the end of McKinney’s bed. She could see now that the right side of his face was disfigured from a grievous wound whose scar tissue pulled at the side of his mouth. A horrendous scar ran along the side of his head to a stunted ear. He also appeared to be missing his right eye and had in place a false eye as black as onyx. He placed his hands on the footboard and she could see he was missing several fingers from his left hand as well. He had once been a handsome man, but he seemed not to notice.

He met her gaze and nodded. Then he spoke in a deep, mellow voice. “So, you’re the one who broke out of Odin’s isolation facility.” He started laughing midsentence. “That shows dash, Professor.”

McKinney stared at him. “Raton… Mouse. You’re Mouse.”

“You’ve heard of me.”

“A man named Ritter mentioned you. He made it sound as though you were-”

“Dead?” He nodded. “On paper, I guess I am.”

Lalenia walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “Not even close, baby.”

McKinney could see how much they cared for each other. Whatever scars he bore, Lalenia clearly did not see them.

Mouse focused on McKinney. “You ran into some difficulties back in the States.”

“Are we safe here?”

“Safe is relative. From them, perhaps, but only because you’re in the middle of a war zone. The cartels killed thirteen thousand people here last year. There’s more killing going on here than in Afghanistan.”

McKinney was at a loss for words. “Are you serious?”

“Most Americans have no idea how bad the fighting is down here. This will be JSOC’s next battlefield, Professor. Mark my words. Mexico’s constitution might prohibit U.S. boots on the ground, but there are workarounds.”

Odin walked in suddenly from the open doorway. He was wearing a faded gray T-shirt and jeans. He nodded to McKinney and let a slight grin escape. “I was worried about you for a while there.”

McKinney suddenly felt the reality of the situation. “I’m still worried about me. I can’t go home. And how long until they send machines here to kill us?”

He met her gaze and nodded grimly back. “Get some rest, Professor.”

E xhaustion came quickly to McKinney for quite some time, and she slept often. A week later she was sitting in the courtyard of a substantial-looking stone hacienda with a terra-cotta tile roof, enjoying the sunshine. The Christmas holiday and New Year’s had already come and gone, and she was morose with worry for her father. And for her brothers as well.

McKinney watched local children playing soccer in a dusty road nearby. She could see them through a wrought iron gate in a stone wall that enclosed one side of the courtyard. Their shouts brought back memories of Adwele playing with schoolmates in Tanzania. She wondered how he was coping with her sudden disappearance. Reaching out to him now would only put him in danger. She was helpless to do anything.

Instead, she stared into the distance. Beyond the houses were steep forested mountains, with clouds towering overhead. It was beautiful, but all she could think about was how to get back to her old life-and how impossible that now seemed.