Chapter 21: Road to the border - Part 2
Opening the battered car’s fuel cap, Pancho pulls a disgusting grin, the likes of which Valencia and the boys have never seen before. A horrific look of victory, almost as though this depraved act of brutality will somehow get one over on the troublesome young group. He produces a box of matches from his pocket and with one deft swipe he tosses the lit match into the heart of the fuel tank and starts walking away from the wreck. The car explodes into flame, engulfing the elderly couple and sending debris raining down across the rocky landscape. Realising he has misjudged the fallout, Pancho starts sprinting. As he runs he is struck by a chunk of metal, which digs into his back, knocking him to the ground. Emilio sees that this is their shot at freedom, and shouts to Valencia as he stoops down behind Cathos forming an arc with his back. Valencia pushes Cathos backwards, causing him to fall over Emilio’s arched frame. Valencia grabs for the machine gun, while Emilio pushes his thumbs into the furious man’s eyes. Cathos roars in agony as his eyeballs start to dislodge, and relinquishes his grip on his gun. Valencia tears the firearm from him, and stands with her shoulders set back and head held high, holding the gun confidently. She looks for a clear shot at Cathos, as Emilio pushes his body away, keeping his thumbs firmly planted in the bleeding eye sockets. Pancho looks up and sees Valencia aiming the gun at his brother and charges at her. Valencia catches the movement out of the corner of her eye and turns, instinctively squeezing the trigger. Pancho screams in agony as his groin is riddled with bullet holes. Emilio releases Cathos in shock. Partially blinded, Cathos hobbles to his brother’s side and crouches beside him. Pancho is losing blood so fast that he has no chance of surviving. Valencia stands transfixed, showing no sign of remorse, before raising the gun a second time and firing directly at Cathos. Emilio and Karl look on, stunned, as his jaw is torn away from his skull in a shower of blood and flesh. Valencia keeps firing, until his face is completely shot away, and the ground is a deep, satisfying red. Emilio stands behind Valencia, shocked and horrified. After a few silent moments he speaks softly.
“I think it’s time to go.”
Emilio shoves Karl, signalling for him to get in the black car, before turning slowly back to Valencia, who is standing majestically over the carnage. Emilio tears himself away from the bloodbath and jumps into the driving seat. Valencia feels no sympathy for the brothers, only a sense of righteousness. Emilio can see Valencia bending down and saying something to the corpses, but he doesn’t care for what is being said, he is more eager for her to get in the car so the group can escape. Valencia walks with measured dignity back to the car, and casually slides onto the back seat, taking her hair band out and reorganizing her black locks, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Emilio slams his foot down on the accelerator, adrenaline surging through his veins. The car spins and fishtails along the sandy road, until eventually the wheels grip and Emilio gains control. The group travel silently down the long open freeway.
“What the fuck just happened?” Karl whimpers.
“Revenge.” Valencia calmly replies.
“Why did you have to kill them? It’s bad enough the old people were killed. Now we’re the fucking murderers. Fugitives, man! Accomplices to murder.”
“Don’t worry, Karl, you haven’t killed anyone.” Emilio’s voice lacks confidence.
“Yeah, but she fuckin has. We should turn her in and tell the cops everything.
“Hey, those pigs killed Elmanda, they deserved to die.” Valencia retorts angrily.
“I’m not going to jail for something I haven’t done, man. No way!”
“We can’t turn her in, Karl. If it wasn’t for Valencia we wouldn’t be free right now.” Emilio reasons.
“We’re not free, we’re criminals. She killed Cathos, man. He didn’t kill anyone. And what about those poor people, those poor innocent people, they’d probably never done a bad deed in their lives, and they’ve been killed, and for what? And what now, Valencia’s just murdered the fucking General’s brothers. He’s gonna find out! We’re as good as dead! I might as well just get a rope and hang myself from the next tree.” Karl eyes are streaming with tears as he rocks forward and backwards in the passenger seat in a futile attempt to comfort himself.
“Just try and chill, Karl!” Emilio is in no mood to console Karl, as he’s feeling immense pressure from the current situation.
“Everyone just shut the fuck up, I am not a murderer! I was trying to protect you guys! We had to escape! They would have killed us all, and you know it! Look, let’s just all calm down a minute. No one is looking for us yet. It could take hours before anyone finds and reports the accident. We may need to drive off-road as soon as possible though, because this road could go on for miles, and this is the way they’ll come looking for us.” Valencia speaks calmly.
“We’ve gotta get off this road, man, we have to get off this road. Emilio, let’s go off this road right now! If we don’t were going to get caught, for sure!” Karl’s frantic panic grates on Emilio’s raw nerves.
“I will, Karl, but we have to make sure we make the right turn!”
“How will we know when to make the right turn?”
Emilio looks over at Karl several times trying to think of a reply.
“Yeah, I don’t actually know!” He concedes. “Valencia! Do you have any ideas?”
Valencia looks out of the window and across the orange sandy plains to the distant cliffs beyond.
“None!” She says quietly.
“Great, that really helps. Thanks!” Emilio runs his hands through his hair, as if to coax a thought from his brain.
“Something really smells around here!” Valencia pinches her nose. Karl shamefacedly removes his damp trousers and hangs them out of the window, winding the glass up to hold the trousers in place.
“Did you wet yourself, Karl?” Asks Emilio
“I passed out at the wheel. Pancho wouldn’t let me go take a leak, and I couldn’t hold it. What was I supposed to do?”
“I can’t believe it. You may have just saved our lives by pissing your pants.”
An hour of travelling up the same stretch of highway makes Karl feel sleepy. His head lolls on the headrest, which is bouncing steadily with the motion of the car. He drifts in and out of sleep until he falls completely into a lucid dream. Within his dream he is walking through the Death Valley basin. The heat is so intense that his arm is starting to sizzle, but he feels no pain. At the end of his arm a suitcase is chained to his wrist. The suitcase has contraband inside it, and is identical to the one he remembers seeing at the Casino. In the distance is a lavish swimming pool oasis with a thatched poolside bar. The bar is being tended by Samuel from the Tropicana Hotel who stands, massaging his handlebar moustache. A diving board assembles it self and Valencia appears, walking provocatively along it. She is clad in a skin-tight pink bikini, flicking her dark hair flirtatiously. Karl becomes aroused. She stands at the tip of the board and springs three times, before launching herself into the air, where she completes a full rotation, finishing in a pencil dive. Samuel holds a perfect ten score card up, as she swims towards him for a Pina Colada. Karl starts to jog, anxious to meet up with her. He hears a scampering sound behind him and turns nervously. Three evil, fanged, monkey-frogs spring frantically towards him. He feels helpless, which cause his legs to vanish beneath him. He is besieged by the ravenous mutated monkey-frogs, which feast on his sizzling arms, eating him alive and causing him to awaken suddenly with fear, jolting bolt upright in his seat. Emilio looks over to him, but says nothing. After another hour on the highway the group approach a rare turning in the road, which branches off in three separate directions, heading north, northeast and northwest.
“I think we should just try and head home.” Emilio says wearily.
“Where’s home?” Valencia’s voice is quiet and introspective.
“If we make it back to New York, you can come and live with me.” Emilio offers.
Valencia looks down to her grubby unkempt nails and smiles.
“Whoa, hold up! What do you mean “if”? You don’t think we’ll make it, do you.” Karl is immediately fearful and agitated.
Valencia shuffles up behind his seat and wraps her arms around him.
“We’re gonna be fine now, Karl. You don’t have to worry anymore.” Valencia is not entirely sure of what might happen, but clings to the illusion she has painted for herself in the meantime. “Let’s go north east then, Emilio, and get onto the smaller country roads for the time being.”
Emilio steers off the highway onto a country road that leads through a string of small villages.
“I feel weak. I’m starving. I’m exhausted, and I swear to God I’m starting to waste away. I must have lost a ton of weight this week. What do you think, Emilio?”
Emilio looks at Karl, slumped lethargically in the passenger seat, and scans his friend’s torso, eventually coming to the conclusion that Karl seems to have lost little, if any, weight at all.
“Yeah, Karl. A ton of weight, for sure.”
Karl savours the rare ego boost, before slipping back into his usual sombre mood.
“We should really try and find somewhere to get something to eat.” Karl has started to daydream about French fries.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Emilio looks across at the slumped lump. Karl returns a bewildered grimace. “Money! We have no money.”
“Hey, Valencia’s just murdered two members of a drug cartel, do you really think she’s gonna give a crap about stealing candy bars from a service station.” Karl responds thoughtlessly.
“Stop calling me a murderer, Karl. And I’m not a thief! Don’t ever say that about me, I’m a good person, I just couldn’t let Elmanda die in vain.” Valencia responds scornfully, hurt and irritated by Karl’s careless comment.
“But how are we gonna pay for food and gas if we don’t have any money?” Karl sulks.
Emilio’s head sinks, Valencia doesn’t reply, but starts rummaging through her pockets until she frees a leather wallet and holds it aloft in triumph.
“Where the hell did you get that, has it got any money in it?” Emilio asks, seeing the wallet in his rear view mirror.
“I had a feeling Cathos wouldn’t be needing it anymore.” Valencia replies with a smug grin.
Karl swipes the wallet from Valencia’s clutches and rifles through the accordion layers, pulling a wedge of twenty-dollar bills free.
“There must be at least four hundred dollars here! You know, I never would have thought of going through the pockets of the dead back there.”
“All I was thinking about was survival, just like Elmanda would have wanted. I thought these might be handy, too.” Valencia pulls out the fake documents that were made for them at the salt mine.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Emilio strikes the steering wheel jubilantly, inadvertently setting off the flat sounding car horn. The travellers enjoy a brief window of elation before falling back into an awkward silence for a further hour, Emilio constantly checking every mirror at his disposal, paranoid that the next car they meet will contain an assassin, eager to capture them, dead or alive.