Chapter 42 At least you tried
At least you tried
The night was colder than usual. With the wind picking up as the moon appeared beyond the clouds, the night promised to be every bit as pleasing as ever.
Scott and me, along with Antonio, Carlos, and Luis, my three soldiers best matching the description of the other soldiers we captured, all accompanied our last man standing, Marx.
We stayed hidden in the shadows of the extraction point, awaiting the helicopter that Miguel would apparently be riding in.
I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just wait for the helicopter to transport me to his compound. But apparently, his ego required that he personally escort my dead ass back and serve me up in front of his men so he could claim the kill. Fucking pussy.
Tonight, I would end this pitiful war with the Spade family and get back to killing Matthew Rainer’s.
And maybe even finally start my own.
We didn’t have to wait long for the helicopter to arrive, the sound of its propellers giving us the signal we needed to ready ourselves.
Unzipping the body bag, I lay down inside it and allowed Scott to zip it up.
Once the helicopter had landed, he heaved my dead weight over his shoulder and walked us out into the open.
“Christ, you weigh a fucking ton,” Scott muttered under his breath.
It was a bold move, but sometimes it took bold moves to win wars. And winning wars was my specialty.
Four taps against the back of my knee from Scott told me how many men were inside the helicopter. I suspected Miguel, two of his soldiers, and the pilot. Listening as the door slid open, I could hear my men climb inside before Scott gently dropped my body onto the floor of the chopper.
“Ha ha!” Miguel’s laughter was excited. “Look at this shit!”
I kept still as I felt the pilot fly the chopper up into the air, back to their base. Back on land, four armor-plated Hummers were following our tracking signal back to Miguel’s base to finish off whoever was still left.
“Ha! We got you, you stupid gringo fuck! I told you we could do it without those fucking Americanos!”
Americanos? What the fuck is he talking about?
Knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to resist for very long, Miguel got up from his seat to climb over the partition separating the pilot from the passengers. Judging by how quiet and spacious it felt in here, he had to be flying a pretty nice luxury helicopter.
Reaching for the zipper, he began to slowly pull it down, revealing parts of my would-be unconscious body. More laughter came from Miguel, his excitement almost as irritating as his laugh. But the moment he pulled the bag apart, I struck.
With a tight grip on my knife, I surged forward, the wild grin on my face impossible to hide. Miguel squealed in shock and horror as I grabbed the back of his head and forced my blade between his lips, instantly slicing into the corners of his mouth.
My move was the signal for Scott, Antonio, Luis, and Carlos to finish off the other two useless passengers in the back. Their throats were quickly slashed while Scott climbed to the front of the cabin and pressed a gun to the back of the pilot’s head.
“Stay on course,” he ordered, his voice encouraging.
“You look surprised to see me, Miguel.” I snickered with a wide grin. The combination of rage, shock, and terror on his face was my prize at the end of this little competition. “Did you really think that pitiful display of an attack was enough to take me out?”
“Fuck you, Davi—”
Pulling the knife away, I sliced even deeper into the corners of his lips, blood flowing down his cheeks and chin just so I could slam my elbow into the side of his face, knocking his head against the half partition.
I then grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face against the hard wood over and over until his blood splattered against my shirt.
“Who told you we’d be at that location?” I seethed, tightening my grip on his balding head.
Miguel’s response was a gurgling chuckle.
“Who!” I roared, pressing the knife just under his eye.
A bloody-toothed smile curved his mouth. “You really don’t know?”
“Answer the fucking question!” Scott shouted from the cabin, his gun still pointed at the clearly terrified pilot.
More laughter, more nonsense before Miguel finally spit out a name. “Matthew fucking Rainer, you gringo cunt!”
Son of a bitch.
I should have known that. But how did he?
“You were always a shit—aaaaahhhh!!”
Miguel’s voice went from cocky to shocked as I dropped the knife to allow both my thumbs to drive into his eye sockets.
He screamed and squirmed violently as I wrapped my long fingers around his head and shoved my thumbs even deeper, his eyes turning to mush around my digits as blood squirted in every direction.
Scott chuckled from the cabin at the scene while the pilot looked like he was about to be sick. Removing my thumbs, Miguel continued to scream and writhe on the floor as he pressed his palms against his face and wildly kicking his feet around like he might actually strike something.
Grabbing my knife from the floor, I gripped his hair in my hand again and pulled him up to a sitting position, holding him steady. I then leaned in toward his ear as he continued to cry and groan.
“Al menos lo intentaste,” I told him, though I wasn’t sure if he could even hear me over his incessant screaming.
At least you tried.
The blade of my knife then slowly slid into the side of his throat, pressing in gently so as to draw it out for a few additional seconds. Miguel gurgled and choked as I removed the blade, allowing his blood to flow from his neck in heavy rivulets down his chest.
Dropping his dying body, I moved to the front of the cabin to slide into Miguel’s seat with a satisfied sigh.
“Just one more present to drop off,” I told Scott as he maintained his aim at the pilot.
The pilot’s shoulders shook the entire time as he maneuvered the chopper through the air and off to its home base. It wasn’t a long trip, only about fifteen minutes before the confines of a small compound could be seen in the distance.
“It’s there,” the pilot pointed.
“Hover over the main house,” I ordered. Turning back, I could see Luis and Antonio were already preparing the bomb that we were about to drop overhead. I wanted this shit finished once and for all. No mistakes this time.
Once they had finished, Luis freed the latch of the side door, allowing a gust of wind to blow through the cockpit. When we were perfectly over the compound, I gave them the signal and nodded.
Releasing the package, the bomb flowed through the air under a parachute as it descended into the middle of the base. After Scott had directed the pilot to clear from the blast radius, he pressed the ignition to trigger the bomb.
The blast rocked through the compound, destroying everything with a heavy storm of fire. Watching Miguel’s guards run around while their bodies were covered in flames was truly satisfying, which only increased when our land convoy entered the premises to take out what was left and clean house.
“You know, I think we could lose a little more weight while we’re at it,” I suggested to Scott.
He nodded, then turned to direct Antonio, Luis, and Carlos, instructing them to toss the slain passengers and Miguel’s body out of the helicopter to land within the confines of the explosion and burning buildings.
“Put it on autopilot,” I told the pilot.
Once he had it securely engaged, Scott yanked the front of his head back against the seat and quickly dragged a blade across his throat from behind.
Leaving the man to bleed out, Scott reached over to open the pilot’s door and pushed him out of his seat, his body plummeting to the fiery ground beneath us.
Maneuvering quickly, I placed myself into the pilot’s seat, changing some settings on the controls before disengaging the autopilot and flying us the hell out of there.
A sense of pride floated through the cabin now that the war had been won. But things were never that easy. I may have closed the door on one war, but there was still one left that I needed to take care of.
Matthew Rainer was a very, very dead man.