Page 3 of Savior
SEVEN YEARS AGO
SONORAN DESERT, ARIZONA
SOMEWHERE NEAR GILA BEND
DEAN
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I’ve heard it said a million times. It’s basically the story of my life. No good deed ever really goes unpunished, in one way or another. Not that it’s ever stopped me before. There are some things that are simply worth doing.
It’s hotter than the Hell I just sent these pricks to. The last thing I want to do is slap on another item of clothing. Black leather at that. I peel the cut off this soon to be baked body, carefully slinging it around me to slip my arms through. My chest is sore where their bullets impacted the Kevlar, but the vest did its job at keeping me alive. As the leather rests on my shoulders, I swear I can feel more sweat dripping down my back for a split second, before it evaporates right off my overheated skin.
This is Hell’s front porch... The giant Saguaro cacti even look like they’re flipping me the fuck off.
I take a moment to catch my breath while glancing around the desert scape. Eighty-six thousand square miles of hot sand and cold cases… I could leave these trafficking pieces of shit right here and nobody would ever find them. Except maybe a coyote or two. There’s nothing out here but cacti, scrubby, dead looking bushes, cracked rocks and dusty dirt as far as the eye can see. The crusty, sun beaten mountains in the distance even seem to squiggle a bit in the shimmering heat haze, reflecting in the mirage of water below them…
Mirage…Marriage…
I chuckle darkly to myself, mulling over the two words. Contemplating how they have a fuck of a lot in common. At least pertaining to my life, they do.
Fuck, this heat is making me delirious…
I step around the already congealing pool of blood on the hot sand near one of these scumbag’s busted skulls, and grab a bottled water from Serene’s saddle bag. Cracking the cap, I chug the whole damn thing. It’s piss warm, but it’s water. Heat stroke will sneak up on you in the desert, if you’re not careful.
Fortunately, I spent last night digging two holes to accommodate a couple of bodies. Nights are cool in the desert, and the enormous skies are full of stars. The desert isn’t without its own unique, hostile type of beauty. I’ll give it that. The fiery sunsets even give a miserable prick like me, pause to admire. And there is something kind of peaceful and mysterious about being in a place man hasn’t fucked up yet. Nature still rules the desert, and with an iron fist at that.
Despite the work of digging two graves, it was peaceful, camping out under the stars, lying back on top of Serene. Sleeping soundly beside two unoccupied holes in the sand. The graves will be shallow, since now they’ll be doubled up, but I don’t care. This wasn’t part of the job that landed my ass in the fucking desert to begin with. That job involved a little knee breaking for a Gangster based out of Phoenix. We crossed paths in the underground fighting circuit a few years ago. He was impressed with the way I handled another cage fighter. Some previously undefeated Irish fighter, by the name of Kenny O’Keefe.
Anyway, an offer was made that I couldn’t refuse, involving miles and money. A lot of both. The money keeps my private life somewhat bearable. The miles… that’s for my own fuckin’ sanity.
Though, I should have been home by now. Not here in the Crossroads of the Southwest. I’ve only got myself to blame for the situation I’m in. Never should have set foot in that dingy biker bar near the outskirts of Gila Bend. Never should have asked that little girl how old she was, when she walked up and propositioned me. When I turned her down, she made me another offer I couldn’t refuse…
Please… I’ll pay you… take this money… save me…
And so, here I am. Sweating my fuckin’ balls off with four dead bodies, and an underaged prostitute shacked up in my hotel room. Not to mention, a wife back home that hates my ass.
Ladies and gentlemen, my wretched life.
Tucking the empty water bottle back in Serene’s saddle bag, I grab the rope and crouch down nearest the first dead trafficker’s feet. I bind his ankles together, then move on to the other three, doing the same, before I attach the end of the rope to the hitch on my motorcycle. No way I’m dragging these assholes half a mile further into the desert in this heat, one at a time, on foot. Serene’s engine is powerful enough to haul them for me, and like a good girl, she will.
“I know you’re not made to tow, baby. Least of all human garbage. But I promise to give you a tune up and a bath when we get the hell out of this sandbox.” I sweettalk her, pulling on the rope to make sure it’s secure.
One of the corpses, groans. I step over his dead buddy with the mangled jaw beside him, and lean over to see if he’s awake. He coughs and blood sputters from his busted mouth. His eyes are so swollen he can’t even open them.
“Sucks to be you… You’re about to wish you were already dead.” I tell him, turning back around to mount Serene. He’s in store for one painfully slow half a mile of being dragged over hot sand and lava rocks in the blistering sun. Where I’ll then toss his ass in an unmarked grave, among the other lost souls, of the vast Sonoran Desert.
Serene roars to life beneath me, and the rumbling vibration of her engine soothes my nerves. I’ve been in get it done mode since I saved the girl.Dodging bullets and crowbars when I came to take their lives an hour ago. Was only supposed to be two of them meeting me here to exchange the girl for a payoff. They showed up early, and with extra man power. Turns out, they didn’t bring any cash with them to buy me off. Which was fine, since I didn’t bring the girl, either. We worked it all out in the end.
Twisting her throttle, Serene and I drag these pricks to their final resting place.
By the time I have them buried, a hot breeze picks up across the desert. It’s a double-edged sword. On the plus side, the blowing sand will cover over the trail their dragged bodies made, as well as Serene’s tire tracks when we leave. Down side, visibility is going to suck getting the hell out of here. Not to mention all the sand in every one of Serene’s crevices. Fuck, mine too. This shit gets everywhere.
I swap out my shades for my riding goggles, slap a bandana over my face and get us the hell out of Dodge.
By the time I get back to the hotel room, making damn certain I wasn’t followed, it’s already after six pm. I swung through a drive through burger joint and grabbed the girl and me some food. I’m fuckin’ starving. After being shot at, and taking down four men who planned to leave me for dead in the desert, food never smelled so fuckin’ good. I pull the room key from my pocket and unlock the door.
“It’s just me, doll.” I announce as I enter, shutting and locking the door behind me. When I look up, she’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, wide eyed and afraid, looking completely dwarfed in one of my Harley Davidson t-shirts. Which she’s tied the hem of, into a knot at her hip. She’s also wearing a pair of my boxers. Hell, at least she’s comfortable enough to steal and wear, my underwear. I avert my gaze from the black brand mark on her body peeking out the top of the elastic waist band of my boxers, hanging low on her hip. We lock eyes.
I realize it’s the cut I’ve got on that’s startled her. Quickly, I place the two brown bags of food down on the foot of the bed, and shed the leather. Folding it over to hide the rockers from her view, I drop the piece of shit cut on the floor.
