Stephen Randel - Trail of the Chupacabra

“No,” Cesar hissed as Barquero’s hands clasped around his neck. Barquero continued to squeeze for a second more, then let go him. “So this was your idea of a good plan?” Cesar asked as he tried to catch his breath.

“It was the only way for me to get close to the Padre. You knew that. Where is he?”

“Upstairs. Jesus, you look like shit, man. Are you okay?”

“I wouldn’t look this way if you had kept up your end of the deal. What took you so long? This was supposed to go down earlier.”

“A dinner meeting with the Padre and some of his top people. I made the decision to wait until we could get them all. Seriously. Are you okay?”

“You made the decision? I’m fine, but waiting wasn’t part of the plan,” Barquero said as he picked up an assault rifle and pistol from the unconscious cartel soldier at his feet. He gave the rifle to Cesar. “Show me where the Padre is.”

“Can I come?” Private Zulu asked from the bottom of the stairs. Cesar and Barquero turned, and both pointed their weapons at him.

“He’s not one of them.” Barquero lowered his pistol.

“Find cover,” Cesar said. “Help is outside. When this is over, they’ll come to get you.”

At the first sound of fighting, Avery, Esmeralda, and El Coyote headed through the kitchen into the sprawling farmhouse. Esmeralda unloaded her massive pistol into two cartel soldiers who burst into the room. El Coyote picked up a third and smashed his head into a wall until he stopped moving. Avery followed the two into the main area of the house. Moving from room to room, they searched for Ziggy and Private Zulu. Bullets from outside slammed through a large plate-glass window, sending all three to the ground. They were pinned down for several minutes.

“Check that room over there,” El Coyote said as he fired at a cartel gunman down the hall. Avery, more than glad to get out of the massive shooting gallery that the compound had turned into, threw open the heavy doors covered in murals. Inside, the room was filled with artifacts and weapons. He spotted a heavy wooden desk. Just the place to let this little kerfuffle work itself out , Avery thought. Climbing underneath the desk, he noticed a shiny new laptop computer sitting on top of it. Realizing the computer was way better than the one he owned, he pulled it down under the desk with him. Of course it was password protected, but Avery enjoyed hacking into other people’s computers the way some people enjoy working on crossword puzzles.

“Keep pouring on the fire!” General X-Ray encouraged his men. “Fire Team Leader! I’m still waiting for that status report on the wounded.”

“I think he’s going to be fine, General,” said Fire Team Leader Bravo. “Hopefully it’s just a concussion.”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t expect me to put him up for a battlefield commendation. Lose a limb, maybe, but not for a concussion.” A blinding light from above suddenly illuminated STRAC-BOM’s position. Violent winds buffeted the men as the whining of the helicopter’s engine and rotors bit through the air.

“This is the Mexican Army! Put down your weapons and place your hands on your heads. I repeat, this is the Mexican Army. Put down your weapons and place your hands on your heads, or we will open fire.”

“He’s bluffing, men. Hold your ground!” the General shouted to his men. A sniper from the helicopter fired a round over the top of General X-Ray’s head. “On the other hand…lay ’em down easy, boys. They’ve got us surrounded…again…shit.”

“Where are the rest of our damn men?” the Padre asked.

“Our communication network is down,” Carnicero said. “We can’t reach them to coordinate anything, but we’re pushing the soldiers back.”

“You’ve got to get me to the tunnel in the barn!” the Padre yelled at Carnicero.

“We’ve driven them back from the courtyard. I think I can get you there. What about the people in the safe room?”

“I don’t give a damn about them. Leave them. Just get me out of here!”

“I promise, Padre. All you men,” Carnicero yelled to his cartel gunmen, “on the count of three, fire everything you have. Give us cover until we can get the Padre to the tunnel. Padre, are you ready?” He looked at his savior, his father.

“Yes, my son.”

“Then stay down and follow me. Men! Do it now!” Carnicero’s men unleashed a hail of automatic weapons fire.

“Keep watching that door!” El Coyote yelled to Esmeralda as he reloaded his rifle. A few seconds later, El Coyote heard the massive boom of her long pistol.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” Private Zulu cried out as he stuck his head into the room.

“Get down!” Esmeralda yelled over the din of gunfire as the wall behind the private exploded with bullet holes. Zulu hit the deck and crawled on his belly to Esmeralda. Reaching her, he grabbed her leg and hung on for dear life. “Get off me! And stop looking up my skirt!”

Barquero and Cesar exited the front of the farmhouse. Quickly surveying the scene, Cesar could see that his men had been driven back to the north, near the fence close to a group of men prone on the ground with their hands on their heads.

“Where the hell are the ground troops?”

“There he is,” Barquero seethed as he saw the Padre and Carnicero sprinting across the open courtyard toward the barn. He took to one knee and fired his pistol until it was empty. He missed. He dropped the pistol. Halfway to the barn, Carnicero threw a grenade into the transport helicopter. Just as he and the Padre reached the barn doors, it exploded in flames. Cesar signaled to his men.

“Advance on the barn and the farmhouse,” he yelled. “We have to drive them back with everything we have.”

“Yes, Colonel,” one of his soldiers replied.

Ziggy slowly climbed to the top of the stairs, and got down on his belly and slithered through the main floor of the farmhouse. He cringed at the deafening gunfire and explosions. Bullets ripped through the wall in front of him and smashed out a window behind him. Crawling through the broken glass, he launched himself out the window. Bleeding from his knees, Ziggy looked up into the night sky as he pulled himself up. A sharp beam of light pierced the sky in a weaving pattern. Another explosion rocked the night as more gunfire erupted.

“Like, this is the worst flashback ever, dude.” He clamped his hands tightly over his ears and ran straight into the desert as fast as his sandaled feet could carry him.

Carnicero pulled the barn doors closed behind him. On the ground, three cartel soldiers lay covered in blood. Two were dead. One was semi-conscious.

“Get to the tunnel,” Carnicero said as he picked up one of the dead men’s AK-47. “I’ll be right behind you.” The Padre ran for a metal door at the far side of the barn. When he entered a code into the key panel on the wall, the door opened, and he disappeared.

“Take me with you,” the wounded man on the barn floor pleaded to Carnicero.

“I can’t. Stay here and hold them off until the Padre gets away.”

“I’m dying,” the bleeding man pleaded.

“Take this.” Carnicero pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to him. “Don’t let go until they come in.” The man started to weep. Carnicero turned his back on him and ran to the truck parked in the barn. Quickly, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled a rocket launcher from one of the crates in the back of the vehicle before following the Padre through the metal door.