Chapter 12 #2
Quickly — Tadeo twisted, kicked back a leg, then swung it around to slam his shoe into his captive’s jaw with a dull thud followed by the screech of the plastic chair and the strangled, deep cry in pain.
The man lurched to the side, gasping and spitting but there was no blood yet, even though the side of his face immediately reddened.
“You’re the dumbass. You don’t even know what I want yet.
” But Tadeo lifted his foot again and set it down on the chair, between Dante’s legs, lowering himself to bring their faces closer and added: “You’re lucky.
I could have left you to die out there.”
Dante, slow, tilted his head over at him, his shoulders trembling with his fluttered breaths.
“Oh lucky me, I’ve always wanted to get disemboweled.
Why are you in my face? You want a kiss, faggot?
” The response this time was a punch, striking the same side; Tadeo knew the sting of it would be worse, and he was right.
He remained in place with his foot on the chair as his fist whipped to have Dante jerk once more to the side, this time blood shooting from between his lips to bead the ground in red.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions. You’re going to answer them,” Tadeo continued.
“Fuck,” said gurgled, “you.”
“Why were the soldiers sent here? Violence has been at its lowest for the last few years.”
“What are the hell are you? How did you kill all those men?”
“Answer me.” Tadeo trembled, wishing more than anything that his body wouldn’t betray him.
But he hated the way soldiers spoke; he hated their humor; he hated the way they carried themselves.
He hated soldiers. ‘None of you are good.’ He wished he could get away with slaughtering them like the traffickers.
He wished he could have killed those men slower.
‘All of you soldiers, scum of the earth, rapists, motherfuckers, demons.’
“You turned into a fucking monster.”
Lifting his fist again, Tadeo didn’t bring it to Dante’s face; instead, he smashed it down on the bandaged, bound hand, over his pinkie finger.
At the howl in pain of the bones cracking beneath, he replied: “I’ll become a monster again if you don’t tell me why you were sent here.
” Dante shook his head, teeth grit, and so Tadeo lifted his fist once more, this time dropping it onto the middle and ring fingers with a hard stomp that cleanly snapped each digit and brought out another angry yell.
“Why are you here?” Panting hoarsely, Dante didn’t respond, and Tadeo had to try not to grin, to revel in the agony of the soldier.
“Why are,” Tadeo repeated, taking the soldier’s thumb and index between two fingers, feeling Dante frantically struggle in the binds, broken fingers flopping about as he did; Tadeo could deliciously taste his panic now — “you here?” And as he crushed the two last digits on Dante’s left hand hard against each other, so tightly that with a bloody tear, the thumb and its tendon was pulled out from its socket, skin splitting open to drop far more blood onto the ground.
Screaming, as high and as desperate as he had, Dante finally spat right in Tadeo’s face: “Because of you!” His voice broke instantly, and he doubled over, groaning and clenching his eyes shut.
“Because,” he echoed himself, “of you. Because of you!” Hiccups broke in between syllables; he was trying not to cry.
“Why?” Tadeo released him, staring down at the hand he’d mangled, twitching uselessly, the section at the wrist gushing blood, more than he’d intended. “Why would the state send soldiers because of me? Do they think I’m a criminal?”
“You are a criminal, dumbass.” Weak, groaning. “You murdered the soldiers. You’re fucking torturing me.” Dante shook his head again, but like he was trying to wake himself. “We were sent here to capture you.”
“I only killed the soldiers because you all attacked me,” Tadeo spat, finally removing his foot and moving away, taking a few steps back to lift a hand and shakily run it through his hair, damp, sweatier than he’d been expecting.
It was too warm in here; without thinking, he lifted an arm and wiped the drops on his brow with his sleeve.
“I’m not a criminal. I don’t kill innocent people.
” But he could reasonably assume what Dante would respond with.
“The soldiers I’ve killed in this town for the past few years— I only did it because they were corrupt.
They were no better than the criminals they were supposed to protect us from. All of you are corrupt.”
“Think whatever you fucking want,” Dante hissed, his face twitching in a deep grimace as his broken hand continued to bleed.
“You think you’re targeting bad people but all anyone sees is more bodies on the streets.
Do you think you’re a saint or something?
Am I supposed to believe you can turn into a giant monster and that you’re fighting corruption like some kind of fucking—? ”
“I’m trying,” Tadeo cut off, “to protect this town. That state left us all for dead. It’s been ten years of this shit. We were all abandoned for the criminals to turn this place into a war zone. All I’ve wanted is to run them out of town because none of you ever could.”
Elsewhere, Joana was climbing back into the driver’s seat and groaning, taking the door then slamming it behind her.
Dina was still staring at the gas pump they were parked beside and the taped paper over the dispenser that read that they had no gasoline.
Minutes ago, Joana had gone into the attached convenience store, leaving the angel behind with the local radio finally working to broadcast a young woman informing listeners that there were reports of disruptions to certain oil pipelines but that authorities were looking into the issue.
“Not a drop,” announced Joana as if Dina could understand.
“And no sign of the gas coming back anytime soon.” She jerked the gear stick back, setting the vehicle into reverse and inching it back to angle it toward the road.
“So, we’re fucked, or at least the people are.
” Setting the car back into forward driving, she waved a hand at an extremely tall truck passing by with eighteen wheels.
“Those are fine. They’re getting their gas before passing through town, but within a day or two, there’s going to be chaos. ”
Dina asked quietly, “Why? Can’t you all… walk?” He thought to speak now just to prove that he wasn’t mute; he hadn’t answered Joana earlier, after all.
Harshly, Joana reeled in a breath and said, “It’s too complicated to explain.” She turned the car into the main street and murmured, “I’m going to head out to see my dad now. Do me a favor and don’t tell Tadeo.” When the angel parted his lips, Joana added, “I’ll tell him myself. Later.”
The star in Dina’s head, Apsinthos, replied: ‘Be cautious around her.’
‘Why does she think we want to kill Tadeo?’ Dina asked.
‘She must think you’re here to stop the end times, but that means she knows Tadeo is the anti-Christ and that he must die to prevent the apocalypse.’
“Right now,” said Joana, “we’re going to the club.”
And Dante panted and panted, finally replying to the anti-Christ, “So what now? Are you going to kill me for being corrupt like all the others? If you will, just do it. Stop wasting time.”
Tadeo shook his head. “I need more information. Why was the gas cut off?”
“I don’t fucking know,” said Dante. “Why would I? I’m just a soldier.
I wasn’t even going to get sent up here, but they decided last minute that they needed more men.
I don’t know shit. Don’t believe me if you don’t want but it’s true.
I don’t know shit. You couldn’t have picked a worse guy to torture for answers.
I have none. We were sent to this shithole after being told that criminals have some kind of machine or person massacring the soldiers stationed here.
The gas is cut off probably to keep any criminals from escaping during the confrontation today, but I don’t know.
That’s not normal. We’ve never done that before. ”
“The only people the gas cut-off is going to hurt is innocents,” Tadeo mumbled, crossing his arms and turning back at the door, thinking of the children he’d seen. “There aren’t a lot of criminals left here at all.”
Joana parked some streets away before stepping out of the car and shouting over at Dina to follow.
As the angel crept out onto the sidewalk, he heard the hooting of some men from another vehicle, sharing beers and nodding their heads at a woman who walked past in a shimmering dress.
Above, the moon was settling into its dark cradle, peeking out only a sliver of itself, whereas the clouds were oddly dim.
In his head, Apsinthos reassured, ‘Do as she says for now.’ Dina nodded obediently, then spun around, following after Joana, who had just taken to walking toward a corner. ‘Good.’
Past a few streets, they made it to a rectangular, dark building with a sign over the door with cursive lettering and neon lighting.
There was a line of humans outside it — the longer-haired ones wearing dresses and the short-haired ones primarily in pants; the angel glanced down at his long shorts and sandals and began to feel extremely cold and ashamed.
Before he could verbalize this to either Joana or even Apsinthos, the girl had hurried past the line, nodding at a figure in black by the doorway.
He’d been in the middle of speaking into a phone, though he waved a hand, allowed Joana to breeze past him.
“Who,” the man said, twisting the bottom of his phone away from his mouth for a moment, “is this?”
“Just an angel,” answered Joana, and the bouncer quirked a brow but seemingly decided not to waste time arguing.