The Serpent and the Crow

Book 4: Chapter Nineteen

Douglas awoke, and he did not know where he was. But he felt like they cuffed him. He was bagged and could barely see through the threading. He could hear a lot of commotion going on.

Bolivar said, "I told you before it was just us four."

"How many of you were there?"

"Argh, I don't know. Why don't you have a look, Pendejo?"

"Hey, Boss. I think this one is waking up."

They took the bag off Douglas' head. Squinted from the bright lights. He saw two armed men he recognised from the precinct. He saw Ellroy Braithwaite, and he looked just as ugly as his brother.

Ellroy said, "Well, Detective. We want to know how many of you are there?"

"Ellroy, I don't know what you're talking about."

Ellroy moved away to reveal Bolivar in a bloody mess.

Bolivar was naked as Douglas was. Lacerations that bleed profusely from his chest and arms and legs. He looked like he was on his way out.

Douglas was no better. He could only remember the explosion at the front of Redfern. He must have blacked out twice because he was just as cut up as Bolivar.

"Where is Wade?"

Douglas spat some blood into Elroy's face. Suitable disgusted and amused by Douglas' humble efforts, Ellroy's forked tongue swiped the blood around his face.

A walkie screeched with static on Braithwaite's belt. He grabbed it.

"Have you found him?"

"Yeah, we've bagged him."

"Take him to the caves, the Emerald Eye wants to finish what he started a year ago."

Braithwaite signalled to the armed men in the room.

"What about these two?"

"Have your fun. The Emerald Eye only wants Wade."

"Wait," Douglas said, "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why the kids? Why the sky burials?"

"What does it matter now, Detective?"

He walked out of the room and the men sat back and watched as they cut Douglas with a razor-sharp knife. All the while, Bolivar was swearing in Spanish.

Douglas could feel himself fading. He knew he was going to be dead in a couple of minutes. He blacked out. Awaiting his inevitable death.

Douglas awoke in a pile of bodies. He saw Alejandro and Miguel. Dead. Stacked up against Douglas. He glanced down and looked at the gory corpses of Juan and Juanita, sporting the same lacerations.

Douglas coughed up a lot of blood, but he seemed to be alive. Nez realized they must have thought he had died during his torture ordeal. Dragged him to pile. He propped himself up. He looked bad. These amateurs probably checked his pulse and thought he was dead. Not knowing Douglas had a weak pulse.

They had not bothered to uncuff him. He rolled off the pile of bodies, and on to a pool of blood collecting in the mud.

He saw he was outside. But the light from the shack he was in was still on. Douglas heard Bolivar screaming. He knew he had to do something, or Bolivar would share the same fate as his Para Los Muertos friends.

Douglas laid on his back and wriggled his butt and legs of his handcuffs. It hurt like hell with his open cuts on his body, but adrenaline was pumping through him. He looked around for anything to pick the lock or smash it open or a gun. Nothing. He only had one option.