When The Clean Get Dirty
A gripping mystery
Prologue
Rosemary walks in the room, her shiny ballgown reflecting in the fire. It’s a cold September night in 1950. I decided to pay my respects to Gustav Manning, the man who ran the best fur company in the world. He lost his life on a ship that was mysteriously exploded by a bomb. know one knows what really happened. Not a single survivor. “My deepest sympathies to your uncle, Rosemary” “Don’t be, he died the way many men want to, enjoying a smoke while playing and winning cards”. This is probably the first nice words Rosemary has said about Gustav. I only know why she cares about her uncle, because he left everything to his 2 children. Bruce, a stockbroker for Manning Inc. and Eleanor, the head chairman for Manning Inc. .The light from the fire casts a ghastly glow on her face. that reminds me of a side that I only know, a side that will do anything for money, even murder. People always respected Rosemary as an angel but, to me, I respect her as a fallen angel. Only to me, I think she brutally attacked Bruce and hid him in the basement so she could nab ½ of his inheritance before Eleanor could take all of it. The last time anybody saw him was in 1945. He’s been missing for about 5 years now. But hey, that’s just me thinking out loud. If I’m right, the next person to be “missing” will be the person with most money in what’s left of the family. Eleanor.
Chapter 1
Rosemary is one of those rich people who act like they care on camera so people will like them and won’t get angry when they don’t pay as much money as they promised. With tensions rising in Vietnam, their least concern is a millionaire fraud. That’s why I’m trying to bust her with what little evidence I have that’s why she’s trying to “snuff me out” before she gets busted and stripped of all her money and love of all American people. Since I’m trying to lay low, the cops sent a look-a-like to do all my regular routines. As I’m sipping my coffee in my temporary apartment, about 1 mile away from the estate, the phone rings. It’s the cops. They say the look-a-like has gone missing. The first thought that comes to head is that I should start snooping around the estate because they will never see it coming. “Thanks for the info chief”. I look out the window, at the estate. Something catches my eye though, it’s the glint of binoculars coming from a car. My god, they’ve been following me all this time.
Chapter 2
Looking back on it now, it was a poorly formed plan. It was to infiltrate the estate, find the body and the weapon and expose what a monster Rosemary Jones is. there was no Plan B or no Plan C. We expected this to be easy, it was anything but.
They must of seen me duck, because when I pick up the phone, the line is dead. It was a little blurry from that point on but, I heard a loud BANG and everything was white. When I woke up, I was coughing my head off. All signs point to a smoke grenade. A smoke grenade and a cut phone line, classic mafia warning. It’s like Rosemary to do this,get her hands dirty, except if she gets busted, the 1st person she blames is the illegal person who helped her. Except this time, it won't be as easy to pull off. The ones before were loan-sharks and drug dealers. If she blames the mob, she’ll be missing in a day.
As I’m going down to police station, I’m listening to the radio. Just then, it’s interrupted by some breaking news. The man says “Chairman of Manning Inc. , Eleanor Manning, has been reported missing. These strange disappearances of Gustav Manning’s children are classified as murder, but nobody has yet found any hard evidence to the case. Some people think it’s conspiracy”. Darn. You’re darn right it’s conspiracy though. I’m losing people by the minute. As I’m going through parallel streets, a taxi comes out of nowhere and smashes into my side. Everything goes into a hazy swirl then blackness.
Chapter 3
The 1st thing I think when I wake up is ‘The mafia knows I’m alive and they sent a man to finish the job’. As I wait through the day, I see no one suspicious come in and out of my room. Actually, nobody except the occasional nurse who asks how I’m feeling. When a doctor comes into my room I ask him what happened to me after the crash. He says that they studied the taxi and found out that the brakes were cut. He also says it was all over the news. But what interests me most is that the cab had a back seat passenger who jumped out of the car before the intersect and was reportedly fled the scene after watching the crash. I ask the condition of the taxi driver. The doctor says “He’s unconscious, but breathing”. I ask him if I can borrow some crutches. He replies “Before you run off, look at your legs”. I peer down at the large, thick white casts that cover my whole leg. “How long” I ask hoping a couple weeks. “2 months” he says. My last question is where the taxi driver is. He says to avoid reporters, they put him in the lower floor. I thank him as he walks out even though I want to wring his skinny neck.
At nightfall, I painfully hoist myself out of my heated bed. The only thing that keeps me going from falling asleep is exposing what a monster Rosemary is. I grab a stray pair of crutches on the wall. to avoid attention, I go down the empty part of the hospital. I take a ride on the elevator down to the lower levels where the doctor supposedly said the taxi driver is. the reason I want to protect him is that he’s my best and only witness. As I hobble down the long hallway, I hear voices. They say “They thought you were dead, but it seems you cheated it” I hear him crack his knuckles “But you can’t cheat it twice”. I jump in and jab him in the spine with my crutch. Then I sweep him off his feet with a quick sweep of my crutch. He hits his head hard on the ground and is unconscious. I wheel the taxi driver out of the room. I lock the door behind me. I don’t worry about him. I wheel the taxi driver out the back. As I’m walking home with an unconscious man on a cot, a cop pulls me over. I show him my badge he slaps it out of my hand. I take my crutch and knock him out. I slip his badge into my pocket. I jog on my crutches the rest of the way “home”.
Chapter 4
I shove the cot in the corner of my apartment. Even though it’s night time, I draw the shades shut. I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and call the chief. When he picks up, I say “Hey chief, do you know if this badge number is still active. It’s 5F82J”. “That’s odd” he responds, “It’s the same number as the look-a-like we sent for you”. I stare in disbelief. Rosemary Jones and the mafia is responsible for 3 missing people now. Then, the taxi driver wakes up, as if on cue. “Thanks chief, I’ll call you back later”. “Whe-where am I?” he stutters. “Don’t worry, you’re safe” I say in a reassuring tone. After I explain what's happening, and when he stops acting so surprised, I finally ask him the important stuff. “Who did you pick up before the crash?”. “Some punk named Frankie DePiro”. Frankie DePiro, the 2nd hand-man of the notorious crime boss John “Coronado” Valquez. Coming to San Francisco, Rosemary wanted me bad, so she sent me the baddest of the bad. “Where’d he say he was going?” I ask with curiosity in my voice. “He said he was going to the apartment on West 4th”. “Who was at your car last before you started driving it?”. “It was the new guy at the shop, Manny”. “Well, did you know Manny is in the mafia” I say, proud of myself.
Chapter 5
I ask him the best place and way to bust Manny. He says to go in disguised as a customer and ask for Manny, then “accidentally” trip over his lunch pail. Then, grab whatever is in it, then run. After this, he’ll try to flee but, surround the place with cops and arrest him. Now, this is a good plan. As I go in, big mistake. Manny is waiting for me, with an innocent civilian in his arms. He has him in an half nelson with a knife in his mouth. I reach to the phone on the wall to call the police but there is no phone. I turn around and see Taxi driver with a knife. Under his foot is the phone. He stamps on it under his heel until it’s completely destroyed. Under my only good foot, I stamp my heel down. A little knife springs out. I launch myself at Manny with my crutches. I hit him in the stomach with my crutch. I try to avoid hitting any of them with my shoe-knife. I need to keep them alive for interrogation. I smash Manny in the chest with the crutch. He releases the knife on to the ground and falls forward, knocked out. I’m really liking these crutches as weapons. The taxi driver lunges but I react too quickly. I nail him in the ankle and he trips over and smashes his nose on the concrete floor. The hostage gets up and runs down the hall and turns right. He comes back holding some type of rifle in his hands.
Just to let you know, I felt helpless at that point. Cornered by a mafia member with a rifle. Nobody knows I’m in trouble. The police think I’m pulling off the job but I’m about to get “snuffed” by the mafia. Whatever Rosemary thought about me cracking this case, dodging the whole West-coast mafia and surviving. There’s only happy endings in books, not the real world.
As the “hostage” is holding the firearm, I cringe in fear. I wait for him to pull the trigger. After a while, I realize he’s stalling so, I limp at him. He reacts quickly so, he swings the butt of the rifle at me. Then I realize, he’s not stalling, he’s bluffing. There’s probably no ammo in there.
Probably. I dodge the swing and try to sweep him off his feet. He must have been expecting it because he jumps and kicks me square in the gut. I go flying back and hit the door. I groggily get up. Something in my head is killing me. I put my hand up to my head and pull it down. On my hand is blood patches. The man must’ve known, because he has a smug look on his face. He slowly steps forward, as if he’ll enjoy cutting my life short. Just then, he drops his firearm, puts his hands behind his head and gets on the ground. I look back and smile. The SWAT team is there and they look as menacing as ever.
Chapter 6
As I sip coffee, wrapped in a blanket with my head bandaged (Like every key witness in any cop show. Totally cliche, I know, right!), the chief walks over. He gives me a fresh pair of crutches. He also hands me a packet. Inside is the taxi-driver’s and hostage’s profile. Taxi-driver’s real name is Nicky Almano and hostages is Louey “The Don” DeCarte. “Thanks to you, we have all the plans to the next kidnapping”. “Who’s going to go “missing” next?” I ask, waiting to be surprised. “You and Rosemary” says chief in a nervous voice. I’m shocked I understand me, but I don’t understand Rosemary. As I go home, a taxi starts following me. I put the car in neutral and turn around and take a picture of the license plate. The picture prints. It’s clear enough to see the numbers and letters. After a while, the cab stops following me. I was probably just paranoid. But the cab starts following me again. I can tell by the license plate. They’re really following me. I decide to go to Rosemary’s house. The police will be there. For once in a long time, I’ll be safe.
As I reach the estate, there’s a police blockade. They stop me and question me for my ID. I show them my police badge and they let me through reluctantly. I pull over on the main estate road and watch to see what they’ll do to the taxi. Then something that makes me want to call chief happens, he has a police badge! He drives straight through and drives right past me. I want to stay on the main path so I’m spotted all the time and so I won’t get abducted. But, I do want to protect Rosemary from abduction so I go in the main door. I walk in a Sistine Chapel like room. Rosemary is at the other end of the hallway When I walk in I see Rosemary in the doorway. She’s covered in bruises and cuts. A long bloody gash decorates her cheek. Tears are welling up in her eyes. “My good god” I say in disbelief, “What happened to you?”. “The-they got here here before you. You were right to try to expose me, because that kept the mafia occupied and their attention away from me. Before I knew it, my guards were dragging me and beating me and torturing me. I-”. She doesn’t finish. She falls down, motionless, on to the ground. She doesn’t move for a long time. I rush to her body, but I’m met by a cold hard leather boot to the mouth. I look up. It’s John “Coronado” Valquez holding a firearm with a silencer on it. He blows off the smoke from it. he chuckles, a cold chuckle. The kind of chuckle that makes me sick to call him human. “I know why you can’t catch me.” he says in a mocking voice. He gets up close to my face and whispers “Because I’m invisible”. I spit in his face. “If you’re so invisi-”, my comeback is cut short by a gunshot. Pain rushes through my bad foot. I realize he’s shot my bad foot. He looks at me with a neutral face as I yelp in pain and think all of this work for nothing can end so quickly . He stares at me with a hard face. He snaps his fingers and leaves the hall silently. He stops. “When you turn every corner, there will be a mafia member waiting for you”. I hear him bark orders and the ka-ching of a loaded gun. Then I hear nothing.
Chapter 7
For a long time I’m alone, to afraid to move, fearing what mafia members I’ll meet for every corner I turn. I’m getting a little dizzy, and there’s yellow spots dancing on the edges of my eyes. Probably from blood loss I assume. I try to call the SWAT team on my walkie talkie, but the lines are cut outside. Man, the mafia knows how to really do away with two people quickly. I’ve been in here for about 4 minutes now, and they’ve done ½ the job already. I rip off some of the gauze on the crutch pad. I use it to slow the bleeding. I wince as I get up and prop myself on the crutch. I go to the corner and peek around it. It’s a man with arms as thick as tree trunks in a suit. The most menacing thing about him though, is the huge rifle that he’s holding in his arms. I don’t know how to get by him. I literally have almost nothing. But I do have one thing, the element of surprise. I feel dirty as I search Rosemary’s body for any type of weapon. I feel something in her sock, it’s a snub-nosed pistol. I check the ammo in haste. I don’t know how long I have before the “guards” get suspicious and start looking. The pistol has 2 bullets. Just enough for my plan. I fire up in the air once. The guard tenses and goes to the other corner and aims. He comes, slowly walking toward my side. I have one shot to take the guard out or I’m another victim to the California mafia. I jump around and fire at his leg. For the split second, I see the sweat on the guard’s forehead, his surprised expression. His gun goes off, firing rapid bullets into the ceiling. After his screaming dies down, I search his body for ammo, then I take his huge rifle and hobble on. When recalling this certain event, I realize I had a bullet in my foot, but I had so much adrenaline pulsing through my body, that I didn’t notice at all. Only when I was walking, not shooting, it burned.
I deliriously turn corners shooting at whatever I see, dead or alive. I’m an easy trail to follow because I leave a trail of blood from my foot. To me, it’s like a pattern. Step Step Step Turn Shoot Shoot Rest, Step Step Step Turn Shoot Shoot Rest. After a while, I get sloppy. I turn around a corner, a guard, expecting me, shoots at my right hip. I hit the ground, ultimately giving up hope. I hear a klick klick of an empty clip. I look up. Wait, that’s the man that was watching me, that’s the man that tried to kill me. I make sure this one gets a more punishing shot. I aim and fire at his stomach. The bullet passes clean right through him, with a sickening splat. He falls back, and hits the wall. I rush to feel his pulse. Good, not fatal. I hear the squeak of leather boots rushing to see what the commotion was. I fumble with my clips as I quickly reload. As he turns the corner, I get up against the wall. His bullets hit the wall all the way on the other side of the corridor. This one, I can tell is younger. I take pity on him. I graze him in the thigh, just enough to make him fall down. I pick him up by the scruff of his suit. I wince in pain, my foot starts to burn. “Get out while you still can” I say, through clenched teeth. He gets up, and runs away. I shove him in the back with the barrel of my rifle. He runs down the corridor and turns the corner. I limp around the corner. There’s a window that’s just asking to shot open. Finally, I can get out of this maze of halls. I shoot twice, then kick the window open. I hear the whir of helicopter blades. I turn the corner. It’s Coronado trying to pull a fast one. I walk out into the clearing and start to fire rapidly. His assistant sees me and starts taking potshots at me. Coronado must’ve not put a lot of money into this because all of his men are young, inexperienced, and scared. He usually has the best of the best. I see the look on his assistant’s face. It’s scared. His potshots keep missing. I fired at the rotor enough that it explodes. It spins faster and faster until it hits the ground in a fiery explosion. Coronado jumps out last second and lands in an awkward position. There’s a loud bang. I cover my eyes and wait for it to stop blowing shrapnel at me. When it’s done, I look at Coronado. He lazily smiling like he knows something that I don’t know with a huge piece of metal lodged in his face. It’s just me and him. One last battle. Good vs. Evil. Man vs. Monster.
Chapter 8
I slowly walk towards him, not caring if there’s anyone behind. Good or Evil, they’ll see me kill a monster. I shoot once at the shoulder. I put it at semi-fire. I want this to be slow and agonizing, the way he expected me to die. The way he wanted me to do die. I shoot him in the stomach. Everyday, I thought Rosemary was the monster. The person who murdered Bruce and Eleanor Manning. But I realize Rosemary only hired the mafia. The mafia did the real dirty work. And Coronado was the head of it all. I shoot Coronado in the knee cap. I get close enough so I press the barrel to his chest. “Any last words, dirtbag?” I say with a hard look on my face. Not giving away any emotions he can use against me. His face is straining. He mumbles some words under his breath as a steady stream of blood trickles out of his mouth. His eyes are slowly closing. I realize he’s dying but it is too late to save him. If I wanted to get any last words or a confession out of him, it would have to be now. “Any last words, you sick monster? You have 5 words. I suggest if you have any, you say them now”. His strained smile through clenched teeth is cut short with a gunshot deep into his left thigh. “What to say? Only goodbye” Coronado says with short, shallow breaths. Then, with his good arm, he rips open his suit. On his chest is two clay chunks covered in plastic with wires jutting out of it. He holds a detonator in one hand. The last thing I see of him before the explosion is his lazy smile. The smile that knows he will die, but he would go out in a blaze of glory. An angry fiery white explosion hits my body. Everything burns except my leg, which is already half-dead because of nerve damage. I hit against the wall, not feeling anything. The heat blasts in my face, the numbing sense growing all over my leg and the rest of my body. Once the fire stops, the last thing I see of anything is a man with a face covered in soot rushing towards me. Whether the person is good or bad, it’s all right. I’m so badly injured, I welcome death. I don’t care. They can shoot me if they want. His cold glove touches my neck, checking for my pulse. When he finds it, he runs away. Then, I fade away from reality.
Chapter 9
I wake up in a hospital bed screaming “No, don’t do it!”. Once I realize I’m not in danger, I see a man sitting right next to me, his face deep in a newspaper. “Great, you’re awake.” says the man in a tired voice. Wait, that’s chief’s voice, I’d know that voice anywhere, anytime. He puts down the magazine. He has dark circles and bags under his eyes. “Wha-what happened to Coronado, to his gang, to the man that saved my life?” I say, in pain of remembering that fateful day. “You were saved by a cop who was on standard protocol when the 2nd explosion occurred. He was a first responder to the emergency the second it happened. He saved your life, while giving his”. I stare in disbelief, feeling so guilty and selfish. A man gave his life so I could live another day. “How did he die, I thought the explosion was so powerful because the helicopter was full on fuel and it crashed into the wall before it exploded?” I say, still guilty from the saddening news. “Some members heard the explosion and came to investigate. When they saw the wreckage, they secured it and were bound to salvage the mess. When all of them were there, the rescue party had finally come. Luckily for you, you were hidden in the wreckage. The mob members saw the team and started firing rapidly at them. There was only 1 casualty, the man that saw you, and organized the search party. Everyone ducked for cover but he was too late. They figured out his spot almost instantly. Quick, painless. Two very silent shots took him out. After his death, the rest of the search party sent someone to secretly to salvage your body”. I lay down my head in my bed, not caring about what else he has to say. Through bitter depression, I listen to snippets. I learn that The Jones Mansion is beyond repair, so it’s being demolished in a month. Also, 12 of Coronado’s men died in the crash and the remaining 54 were captured. Also, when the whole story was released, 6 people came to her funeral in all. Finally, I was one of the only detectives in the U.S. police history to single handedly to take down an organized criminal gang. I’ve seen so much in the line of duty. Too much. I don’t care if they honor me, I’m glad to retire. I don’t want to kill another man, I just want peace. “I want to retire, right now. No questions asked” I say not caring that I interrupted chief.
After a month of recovery, the hospital finally lets me go to my home. I know nobody will ever look at me the same way, but they will honor me as a hero, but I don’t want to hear any of it. I want to live the rest of my life in peace, and forget the 4 most terrible weeks of my life. Now, this is my story, and I’m beginning a new chapter of it. A chapter of peace. That’s why I plan to pack my bags and move to New York.
When The Clean Get Dirty 2
A gripping mystery
Chapter 1
As I board the plane, I look back at the city that I experienced the horrors that keep me awake at night. The city I’m looking at is San Francisco. Even though it was 5 weeks ago, I still see 3 phyciatrists to try to find some way to forget all of that carnage and, most of all, the last 5 words that I heard before I realized what I was doing young men who had a life ahead of them before I put them so close to death. Back then, coming close to death was around every corner I turned but, I hadn’t realized this man was only 23 when I shot him in the leg at my shooting spree. That made me sick with myself. I vowed not to hurt a single soul unless it was self defense. I turn away before I start get more savage pictures in my head.
The plane captain is nice. As he boards the plane, he sees me and comes over. He shakes my hand and says a few nice words. I look up at him and give him a fake smile as I thank him for saying the nice words even though I want everybody to forget about my “achievement”. The captain is a young man with a clean face. His body is slim and lanky with long arms. He looks nervous, but he had a look of reassurance when he sees me. The man sitting next to me shifts uncomfortably and starts sweating. The pilot looks over. His face darkens but, then he’s gone into the cockpit.
After a while into the flight, a U.S. air marshall is walking down the aisle, looking for trouble. When he gets to our seats, stops and stares at the man sitting next to me. He stops and stares at the man sitting next to me. I press the button to signal the flight attendant. When the marshall hears the ding ding ding, he quickly moves away to avoid suspicion from the man next to me even though I could tell he was even uncomfortable. I ask for some chips and Coca - Cola. While the flight attendant fetches my snacks, I turn around to check on the infamous man who’s disliked by everybody. He’s on his side pretending to be sleeping. I look over his shoulder. He’s checking some kind of documents that’s written in a different language. Now that I look at him, he does look foreign. I decide to follow him after the flight lands.
Chapter 2
After the smooth landing, and, after the long wait to get off the plane, I finally have a safe distance to follow the man. I see him heading down to Terminal 3. He’s looking more and more suspicious. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere specific. He’s just walking down the terminal, passing each boarding place. When he gets to the end, he just walks through an employee room, and doesn’t look back to make sure he’s being followed. “Maybe he’s not bad after all” I think in a positive way, “He’s probably just a confused employee that is lost”. But, soon after, there’s a blood curdling sound. A plane’s jets catch fire immediately and explode with a huge bang. I can’t tell whether it’s because the sound or somebody is sabotaging the airport. After the noise stops, the planes keep exploding. I react to late to the sabotage. Men with huge guns start rushing out of all the possible doorways as the sirens start to ring and blare. I do the same thing all the people are doing, drop to the ground with my hands over my head. When the men approach me, they stop and stare at me. The man yells rapid spanish at me. When I don’t react, he presses his long barrel to my back and yells the same rapid spanish back at me. But, luckily, one of the other men steps in. He pushes the man out to the side. Before I know, he shot a tranquilizer dart into my back. After a few seconds, I nod off into a hazy sleep.
Chapter 3
When I wake up, I see a face. It’s a bloody face, one that’s pained to be alive. But, wait, I know that face, it’s Coronado’s cursed face. “What to say? Only goodbye” he says, with a smug face. Then, there’s a huge explosion that rips up everything in sight. Then, everything blows up into a white fire that rips my body and everything around me. But, for some reason, the fire doesn’t hurt. I smile as the flames engulf me. Everything slowly starts to blacken. A voice starts to tell me “you bloodthirsty monster, you shot a man!”. I cover my eyes and ears as Coronado screams his last 5 words at me. They start to get louder towards me. I look at myself, I’m in the same clothes the day I got attacked at Rosemary’s mansion. They start to slowly burn away as Coronado starts to yell something in a language I don’t know. Then, it hits me like a bullet through the stomach, I’m in a dream. I take my gun and fire rapidly at everything around me. Everything slowly dissolves in front of me. I awake to the sound of an angry man with a huge bayonet yelling a certain command. When I don’t respond, his face gets as red as an apple and points his bayonet at me. A man puts his hand on his shoulder and he walks away. The man says in poor english “Get up, dirty american. You know too much already.
I stand up to check my surroundings. It seems like we’re in the middle of the jungle but, when I get up, he leads me down a small path that widens to a complex of small huts in clusters like a village. In the middle, there’s a huge building composed of what looks like wood and cement. I’m led to a hut that neighbors the large building. A man walks out of the huge building, accompanied by two huge men with AK-47’s in their arms. The man spoke english bows and speaks rapid gibberish to the man that I suspect is their leader. He nods and replies in the same language. The other man nods with a smile on his. One of the other men laughs and picks up a spare AK-47 leaning up on the side of a hut and starts to rapidly fire it into the air. My eyes go wide and my heart skips a beat when the man says “You will be executed in 5 days”. Then, one of the guards throws me into the hut and locks it. Then, I see them dig a ditch.
Chapter 4
My 1st night in the hut isn’t as bad as I think. The men are throwing a celebration for my death ceremony in 4 days. They let come out in shackles and let me dance with the music. They offer me a drink but, I turn it down. For my escape plan, I would have to construct some sort of natural vest to stop or slow down the bullet when they shoot me. That’s what I have so far. The one huge flaw is when will I get the materials for it.
Later in the night, after the party or the beginning of their sleep, I realize that the guards forgot to lock the hut. Then, I realize how to solve my problem. After they fall asleep, I go and grab all my materials. What I need is some water, dirt or mud, grass, and bamboo. What I need to do to assemble my vest is wrap the bamboo around my chest and tie it in place with the grass. Then, slather the mud around it and wait for it to dry to form something that will be hard enough to slow a bullet down. To make it thick enough, I’ll have to add a fresh layer of mud each night. If everything goes according to plan, which I know it won’t, I’ll have a natural bullet-proof vest. Though, getting the “ingredients” will be a tough challenge. Driven on my own thoughts, I leave the hut.
Thunder crackles as it starts to rain. The drizzle feels good against my dirt-covered skin. The rain is great because all the dirt will be changed to mud. I find an overturned bowl on the ground, half buried in the dirt, and wait for the rain to slather the dirt until it’s mud. As I wait, I reflect what the consequences would be if I were caught on the the spot. Instantaneous death? I’m let out in the jungle then, hunted by the men like an animal? So far, none of them look pretty in any way. I poke one finger in the dirt. Still hard. I decide to move and look for another “ingredient”. I don’t worry about the mud because the ground is made of slowly softening dirt. The bamboo is easy to find since it’s shoved in the ground to make a private fence for the big house. I rip 20 stalks out. I don’t care to measure the amount I need for my vest. I’ll measure later. What I need right now is all my materials. The rain gets harder by the the second. Now, instead of the little drizzle, it’s coming down in little beads. I hear the rain hit on top of the roof of all of the huts. I have to hurry because at least one of the guards should be awake. As I stumble blindlessly through the rain, I remember when I was lead to the complex through the thin path. There was no grass but, some long and very thick vines. Vines would even do better than long grass. Surprisingly, everything is going according to plan. As I turn a corner, I almost don’t pull myself back. I just jinxed myself on my good luck. There’s a guard pacing the entrance with a huge gun in his hand. From what I can make out of his blurry silhouette is that he’s holding an AK-47 in his huge arms, he’s wearing a camo bucket hat and a green poncho to block out the rain. And, to make him look more menacing, he’s wearing black face paint. I take one more look at him thinking if he’s sleeping standing up. My prediction is wrong when I see him start to pace. I think there’s only one option that doesn’t include “taking him out”, that option is taking the clothes of another soldier and disguise myself as him and walk right past the guard. Then unwittingly, a morning horn blares out and starts playing a foreign song. I watch in horror as one-by-one the soldiers get up, rub their eyes, and grab their firearms. I go into the nearest hut and slowly close the door. Then I hear horns blaring and the angry screams of the men. They must realize I’m out of my cage.
Chapter 5
I go into the nearest hut and slam the door shut. My eyes sting as fresh sweat runs down my forehead into my eyes. Out of the hut’s small and dirty window, I can see the headlights of the jeeps shining through the rain. I wait for what seems like forever crouching in this awkward position. Complete silence. I open the hut’s door a crack. Outside, they have set up a searchlight on top of the huge building. Like the ones they have in prison but, the prison’s ones are much larger. I have to come up with some way to- oh, forget it! I’ve wasted time throughout all of my problems and all of them have either got me captured or shot. I crouch behind the hut and look for the man in the bucket hat. He’s still there. I take a hand full of mud and lay on my stomach. When I start to crawl, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. The old me would just stay behind the hut and think of some over complicated plan and he would just get shot or captured. As I keep crawling through the mud, the man doesn’t seem to be noticing that I’m there. I need to get the right amount distance or he’ll realize I’m there. Just, about, there, now and,-perfect! I throw the mud in his face and mouth. He really must not known I was there because he drops his gun in surprise and falls back deep into the mud. I pick up his gun and run towards the big building. There must be some type of communications up in there.
Up in the building, things are not that different from any office building except for the occasional bullet holes in the wall. When I turn the first corner, I see there’s a camera in the upper left corner. With two quick shots, the camera is down. Uh-oh, bad idea to shoot the camera. A man jumps out at me with a machete at me. He tackles me on the floor. The only not making me a shish-kabob is that I’m holding the blade right over my chest. I’ll have one chance to knock his blade aside. I take one last glance at his bloodthirsty gaze before I knock his blade aside. His shoulder falls into me as the blade skids on the ground. I take the knife out of his pocket as we wrestle for dominance. When he’s on his side, I roll him over so I’m more dominant. I start to hit him in the face as hard as I can. He starts to slump on the ground as a steady trickle of blood runs down his cheek from his nose. After I release him from my grip, I search his body for any thing that could be useful. I find a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Useless, all useless.
I turn the corner and find a door that says escalera in big red letters. I open it and peek inside. It’s a bunch of rusty stairs going up or down. I decide to head up. Better radio connection up there. As I’m passing up the flight of stairs, I see a picture on a wall of a man saluting a foreign flag. Under it, a jumble of English characters mixed up.
