Muerte Con Carne (17 page)

Felix rose to his feet, but kept his shirt collar over the bottom half of his face. He took tentative steps toward the bodies, squinting against the sting of the putrescence floating in the hot air. He remembered what Marta had said about people taking shelter in places like this after their journey across the desert, too exhausted to go any further until they rested. These people must have been on the verge of death when they arrived, just laid themselves here and died.

The closer he got, the more potent the atmosphere became. Flies burst into the air as Felix stepped up to the corpses, the raisined flesh thrashing with maggots. Two lines of ants marched along the floor, one into the dead meat, the other out of it. Felix swatted at the flies that landed on him, growing more sick to his stomach imagining the corpse juice coating their spindly legs.

Acid stung the back of his throat as he saw the bite marks in the bodies, big chunks of meat missing along the legs and torsos. Felix was ready to leave, get outside where he could breathe. But something caught his eye. The two men lay on their backs, both of their mouths stretched open, their eyes squeezed shut. The woman lay on her stomach…and something lay beneath her. Felix stretched his neck to get a better look, and saw the small, curled hand sticking out. No bigger than a cat’s paw. A toy car was clutched in the gray, boney fingers.

“Oh god…”

Something moved behind him. He clutched the tire iron and spun on his heels. From this angle, he could see a small niche on the far wall. Shadow covered it, but as Felix stared hard into the space, he saw the two silver eyes emerging from the darkness there.

A low, rattling growl grew in volume as the eyes stared Felix down.

“Fuck me.” The tire iron whistled as Felix slashed at the air with it. “Stay back! Stay the fuck back!”

The dog took slow steps forward, its muzzle bathed in red and black. Its black lips curled back to show its yellow canines, and it snapped at the air, licked its chops as it continued to close the distance between it and Felix.

Felix stomped the floor, swung his weapon again. But it only excited the dog. The dripping jaws snapped and the dog began trotting, craving the fresh meat of Felix’s body.

“Shit…” Felix bolted for the door, lowering his head and pushing himself with everything he had.

The dog snarled, barked. Its nails clicked over the hard earth as it gave chase.

Felix covered his face with his arm as he burst through the jagged opening in the door, and at the very same moment the fresh air hit him, a sharp, brutal pain erupted in his leg.

He was yanked backward, hard, pulling him off his feet. His teeth cracked against the ground and dust dried his mouth at once.

The jaws tightened over his leg, just above the ankle. A shriek shotgunned from his mouth. When he tried to turn and sit up, face the wild dog, it only shook its head, tried pulling him back into its lair.

“Ffuuucckk!”

The tire iron lay just beside him, and he reached for it, got another shake of the dog’s head. He clenched his teeth and growled, grabbed the metal rod.

The dog lowered its head and pulled, taking slow steps backward as it dragged its catch.

Felix swung with everything he had, caught the dog on the top of the head. It yelped, but didn’t loosen its grip. Another shake of the head, harder this time, violent thrashes from left to right as a ravenous growl emanated from its throat.

Flesh tore, teeth sunk deeper.

“Ahhhh…jesus…”

Cling!

He hit it again.

Cling cling cling

The dog no longer responded to the metal colliding with its skull, had its mind on meat and meat alone. It tasted fresh blood now, not the rotten corpse juice it had been living on.

A gash had opened on the dog’s face. Blood rushed down and looked purple as it soaked into the black fur.

Felix was dragged another foot or so, his leg now over the threshold, bits of wood jabbing his calf.

“You motherfucker…”

He lifted the tire iron over his head, held it with both hands, flat end down. The metal shoveled into the dog’s open head wound, hit bone, flayed a strip of flesh away.

The dog shrieked, made a noise that sounded eerily human. Its grip loosened slightly, its eyes locked onto Felix’s.

Felix hit it again, stuck the metal into an eye, pushed and twisted. The dog opened its jaws just enough for Felix to pull his leg free.

The dog scraped at its mangled face with the side of its paw, rubbed its head in the dirt.

Felix hopped to his feet, able to stand on both despite the pain radiating up from his leg wound.

The dog growled, leapt at Felix in a final desperate attack.

The tire iron smashed into its head and it hit the dirt, its chest rising and falling as its tongue lolled from its mouth. Blood and saliva turned the dirt to mud around its head.

Felix screamed at the sky, his face pointed at the sun. “Marta!” Her name repeated as it echoed across the vast desert.
“I’ll find you!”

He roared as he rained blows down onto the dog’s head, not stopping even when the dog’s skull caved in and the kicking of its legs ceased.

11

Marta woke up on the floor. Disorientation fogged her mind, and she blinked, cringed at the awakening pain sparkling across her body.

Gustavo sat on the bed, excitedly watching his video. Two Lucha Libres grappled with each other on screen, then the smaller one flipped his body around his opponent’s, gripped him by the head with his thighs, and tossed him across the ring. Gustavo chuckled, flailed his limbs like a hyperactive child.

The giant had his blue spandex on, but these looked new, brighter. Blood free. His shiny boots were pulled tight over his calves. He turned toward Marta, stuck his tongue out down to his chin. “Whuaaaa!”

Marta sat up, pressed her body into the corner.

Gustavo laughed, pounded his chest, then flexed his arms at her. His biceps were like melons, the veins criss-crossing and bulging under his skin like vines. The gold belt sat in his lap, and he rubbed a loving hand over its surface between grunts of excitement. “Oro.”

A noise blasted from outside of the bedroom. Downstairs. Sounded like some kind of alarm.

Gustavo started, licked his lips and the fabric surrounding his mouth. “Carne,” he growled. “Cerdos.”

He jumped out of bed, paused his tape, then stomped toward Marta.

“Get your fucking hands…no! No!”

The giant lifted her over his shoulder with ease, tossed the gold belt over his other. His body smelled of aged cheese, and Marta pressed her hands against his back and lifted her head away from his skin as he carried her out of the room and down the stairs.

The alarms continued to wail, and when they reached the first floor, Marta saw Cristobal standing in the corner of the living room area where a series of old-looking computer monitors sat huddled together. Black and white images moved on the bubbled screens…looked like a man beating something with a stick.

Cristobal nodded slightly, scratching the stubble on his chin, the tip of his tongue prodding his gold tooth. The underside of his nails were caked with black filth. A flesh-colored bandage clung to his cheek where Alma had scratched him. He turned his attention toward Gustavo and Marta, smiled wide.

“Set her down, Gustavo. I wanna show her something.”

Gustavo did, but kept a heavy hand on her shoulder, pressing down on it.

“You see him?” Cristobal pointed to the screen. “That’s your husband, ain’t it, Marta? I almost cut that motherfucker just last night.” He snickered and glared at the screens.

Marta’s flesh went cold and her mouth dried up. She squinted, watched the man pummel what looked like a dead dog. A pool of black blood spread out around the dog’s head as the man beat it into the dirt.

Felix?

The man had his back turned to the camera, and it was a far enough distance away from him that it was hard to tell if it was Felix or not. But she knew it was. She could tell by the way he stood, the way he moved. Then he turned, wiped the spattered blood from his face.

Felix!

“He get off on killin’ animals, bonita?” Cristobal clicked his tongue as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head and pushed his arms through, then plucked a set of keys from the table holding the monitors. “Cuz I do. And I’m gonna make that fucker squeal like the pinche cerdo he is.”

It took a second before Marta understood what was happening.
The monitors…these bastards have cameras at the border. That’s how he knew I was there.

She turned toward Cristobal as he swung the front door open. Gustavo’s grip had loosened, his attention on something across the room. The second Marta pulled away from him, the giant growled, whipped his attention back toward her, wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

Her feet kicked and she thrashed her head and arms. “No! Leave him alone!”

Cristobal winked, then disappeared out of the door. Only a minute later, the pickup roared to life and its tires crunched over rocks and dirt as it drove away.

Gustavo swung back around and glared across the room, his body jiggling as he tittered. Marta was in the view of the monitors again, two of them switching angles to show Felix leaned against his car, his shoulders jerking. Crying. Slapping the roof of his car and sobbing.

Motion sensors. They catch illegals walking across the border…get them when they’re too exhausted to defend themselves.

Get in the car, Felix. Get the fuck out of there!

He continued to weep, wiping his face with his sleeve. One of the monitors still showed the dead dog, lying outside of the abandoned house. She couldn’t imagine why he had been killing a dog, but she didn’t care. He was out there looking for her. That’s the only thing that mattered. She knew that he loved her too much to just leave without her.

Did he see the video? Oh god, why aren’t the police with him?

“
¿
D-donde…está… Donde está mi esposa? 
¿
Mi hijo?” The voice was low, shaky as if every word was squeezed through a tight space.

Gustavo chuckled again, his massive forearms rippling against Marta’s breasts, squashing them hard into her ribcage.

Across the room stood Alejandro. His arms were stretched straight out, chains wrapped around his wrists, pulled tight and locked to wooden pillars on either side of him. His head hung, but it looked like he was trying to hold it up, sweat raining consistently from his face.

Mamá held a tape measure to his chest, then his arms, his legs.

“Por favor…mátame. ¡Mátame y deja ir a mi familia!” His knees wobbled, the tips of his toes white as he struggled to keep himself up.
“¡Tienes qué‚ dejar ir a mi familia!”

Marta gasped as Gustavo’s grip tightened again, crushing the metal cross pendant into her sternum. He growled deep, the vibration rattling into Marta’s body. One arm unpeeled from Marta, but the other stayed strong, kept any large gusts of oxygen from entering her lungs. He gripped his belt from his shoulder, held it over his head. “Rraaa!”

The old woman slapped the man gently on the cheek twice, then waddled to the kitchen table where a sewing machine sat, along with flamboyantly colored sheets of spandex fabric. She picked up a pair of scissors and, laying the tape measure to the fabric, began cutting off pieces.

Marta turned her attention back to the monitor and nearly shouted with joy when she saw Felix in the driver’s seat, dust billowing behind the Taurus as he drove away.

Then the vehicle came into view behind him, gaining on him like a great white closing in on its kill.

***

Cristobal parked the truck, opened the door, and poked his head out.

La pinche Migra.

The white SUV pulled up behind Marta’s husband’s car, threw its flashing lights on. Two officers stepped out and approached the car on both sides.

“Shit,” Cristobal muttered and slapped the steering wheel. It had been weeks since La Migra had shown their faces in this area.

Papá would always change their hunting spots when La Migra showed up, but Cristobal didn’t think it was necessary. They’ll come, snoop around, and then move on. No need to uproot his entire operation…not yet. His cameras and motion alarms were well out of sight, and even if they did find them there was no way to trace them to him.

It was the meat he was worried about. The man at home would last a week, maybe less between the family and the food trailer. They were still finishing off the leftovers from the last pig, so that bought them another day.

We’ve still got the woman…and the child.

Cristobal had already grown tired of Francisca. Always crying, begging, fighting. She would never love him, he knew that. The second he saw the child, he knew that. The child was all she could think about, and Cristobal wanted to get rid of him, but Mamá said Rogelio needed a playmate. Said it was good for him to have someone his age he could play with.

Besides, it was Marta he wanted. Wanted her since the moment she stood outside the food trailer. Bonita. When Gustavo took a liking to her, Cristobal didn’t put up a fuss. But things are different now. Gustavo would understand. Mamá would too. Francisca was no good for family.

I need a wife. I need to make babies.

“Have babies,” Papá had always said. “Grow your family. Family is the only thing that matters.”

It was because of how much Papá loved his family that everything got started. Cristobal was younger than Rogelio when Papá brought the first catch home. Cristobal remembered how his stomach used to hurt, how he would pray for food, any food, to make the hurt go away. But Papá showed them how to eat forever, showed them how to never go hungry again. But after Papá's death, it was Cristobal who opened the trailer. It was Cristobal looking out for his family now, making sure they had money. He used that money to buy the equipment-no more waiting out in the dark for the pigs to come running.