PRESENT-DAY.
*`*
"They're running two hours late, sir. Everything that has happened today is a sign that we shouldn't be here." Alonso, Maximo's right hand, pointed out from the driver's seat. His eyes were peeled out for any sign of danger and a leg hovered over the accelerator while the engine was kept running. It was the umpteenth time he'd raised the observation, and although Maximo had initially laughed at the idea, he was seriously beginning to reconsider now.
He drew on his cigar, adjusted his hat, and reflected on everything that had transpired. Their vehicle broke down in a storm. He called for another which also broke down. At that time they'd gone too far and too close to his destination to call for yet another one. He was afraid to keep his prospective partners waiting and so decided to hop into a vehicle that had no bulletproof or any form of protection against a possible attack whatsoever. On getting to the meeting point, he found that the supposed partners were nowhere in sight. Then, just when he was about to leave, he receives a call that they were on their way but had been delayed by the storm.
He couldn't suggest the meeting be pushed forward. How could he? He was the one who needed their assistance and this was the only time they were free to grant him an audience. The longer he waited, the more exposed he felt. His life was in danger. He needed their alliance now.
"Fifteen more minutes. We give them fifteen and we're out." He said, forehead furrowed in thoughts as he took another drag of the cigar.
He tried to make out his environment through the window but the storm coupled with the partly tinted interior had greatly reduced his visibility from the owner's corner where he sat. Indeed he shouldn't be here right now. He should be in his home. It was a fortress. The location is undisclosed for maximum safety. He should be back there with his beautiful wife. He remembered her pushing into the oven, a soulfully spiced chicken just as he was about to leave for this place. He glanced at his watch--dinner must be laid out for him by now.
He sighed. There was a decision to be made. It was either he went with his gut feeling to flee and miss out on the one shot he had at securing a formidable alliance with the second most dangerous cartel in the region, or go against it and risk getting killed in a storm. For all he knew this was a trap. It was dangerously starting to feel like one.
The most sensible line of action was clear as day. He put out the cigar and took off his hat. "Get me out of here, Alonso," he'd decided.
Alonso stepped on the gas immediately, relieved as he took them as fast as he could along the dark industrial road.
He was a beast when he drove. Maximo did not doubt that they would catch up to the major highways in moments.
He checked his phone for any message from the cartel. There was none. He looked out the window and sighed, his apprehension increasing.
Alonso swerved around a car. "I hate this," he grumbled.
"I hear you. I think--"
Suddenly, a loud bang silenced him and sent their SUV shuddering before it skidded across the lane as Alonso worked to gain control. A truck had sideswiped them hard, pushing the vehicle out of its lane.
"What is this shit?" he swore, gunning the engine.
Maximo turned in his seat. "Tinted windows. Can't see anything. Get me out of here, goddam it! I can't--"
The back window shattered, cutting him off. Alonso swerved again. "Was that a fucking bullet?"
Maximo lay on the back seat of the SUV, took out his gun, and swiftly looked down the scope of it. "Where's my backup?"
Alonso fired three shots into the windshield of the truck. It swerved and backed off. He then reached for a radio phone and spoke rapidly into it. "DX. We're under attack. I repeat we're under attack. A truck with heavily armed men. Where the hell are you?"
"Ten minutes away." A gruff voice replied to him. "Our vehicle suddenly developed some fault. Rest assured it's certainly no coincidence. Try to hang on for a few more minutes. We're on our way."
A vein visibly stood out on Maximo's forehead as Alonso swerved at the sound of bullets pelting the side of the SUV. Maximo was visibly pulsing with anger. He'd been set up by the people he'd come to seek protection from. He should have known. And the constant mechanical fault his armored cars developed implies that someone from his cartel was in on this. They'd done this exactly to leave him defenseless, and stupidly, he'd fallen for it by being in a hurry to see those faggots!
A second truck came out of nowhere and Alonso flattened out the gas. He reached the radio and growled into it again. "DX! A second vehicle just arrived. How far out are you?! Get your asses down here immediately, goddammit!"
"Roger that. We will be moving north on 99. Over."
"You might want to put on your seatbelt." Alonso gunned it harder, barely staying ahead of the truck.
Maximo fastened his seatbelt moments before the attackers clipped their back bumper and sent them into a tailspin. Alonso did remarkably well by regaining control of the vehicle, but when it slammed into the cement meridian, they flipped once over it before landing back on the wheels.
"That's going to hurt tomorrow." Maximo shook his head, looking at the smashed windows. Their SUV was totaled.
Alonso swore as he picked up his gun. "Maximo, are you okay?"
He nodded, took off his seatbelt, and spun in the seat, gauging the location of the two trucks. "Thirty seconds before they are on our ass." he kicked at his door until it opened. "Let's get out for this fight."
Alonso followed him out, took up residence behind their SUV, and looked down his scope. The two trucks had pulled over to the side of the highway.
"I count eight men. They are taking positions before they engage."
Within twenty seconds, they were driving towards them again, with tires squealing.
There was always a calm right before you get into a gunfight, a few seconds before a fight to the death when you glimpse all the wrong turns you took in life and wish that you had made better decisions.
Tonight, those seconds felt like hours. Maximo thought of Aurora. He needed to get through this fight in one piece. He needed to get her to safety because this wouldn't end here. They'll come for everything he held dear next. They wouldn't stop until they'd gotten back what belonged to them.
The bullets started to fly.
Gunfights tend to be over pretty quick, but this one seemed to go on forever. Maximo and his guy were better shots, but there were eight gunmen and only two of them.
Alonso ducked beside the SUV and loaded his gun. "I had a bad feeling about this shit," he bitched. "Right from the start."
Maximo thought about what was happening. Someone from his team was playing for the other parties. This person probably already gave the directions to his home. Aurora's life was in danger.
He lifted his arms and fired five consecutive shots at the men. "We need to get out of here. This hit is to take me out but I fear that my wife's in--"
Suddenly, it felt like white heat knocked through his body like a thunderbolt, spinning him around. Maximo fell back against the SUV, knowing instantly that he had been hit. His voice was surprisingly calm. "Get the medic kit."
"Shit," Alonso swore, crawling over to him. "Hang on."
He fired haphazard bullets over the side of the car and then ripped open a medic kit, tore open a gauze, and pressed it to Maximo's shoulder.
Maximo swore and groaned at the intensity of the pain that tore through his body as pressure was applied to his wound.
Alonso grabbed his gun and shot randomly over his head. "Shouldn't these fuckers be here by now?"
"Alonso," Maximo coughed. His chest felt cold. "We have to talk."
"Save your strength," Alonso said, ripping open another gauze package with his teeth.
Maximo's thoughts went to Aurora and his daughter and how vulnerable they would be without him. "I need you to get them someplace safe. I have stuff put aside for them, but they are going to need help."
"You're not dying. Take care of your own woman and daughter, old man."
"Listen to me, you bastard!" Maximo groaned, "You're the only one I trust with this. The only one I can disclose the details to."
Alonso grabbed his hand in comfort, nodding as he tried to assure Maximo that he would be carrying out his request to the letter.
Before Maximo could continue, yet another truck roared up behind them. The gunfire was deafening, and then, in a moment, it was over.
Alonso checked to make sure things had settled before glancing back at him. "We need to get you to the doctor. Come on." He stood up. "I need some help over here!"
Someone helped him lift Maximo into the back of the vehicle. He felt weak and cold like all the power was draining out of him The vehicle began to move.
Alonso reached for another gauze, ripped it open, and was about to stick it on the other when a loud bang rattled the vehicle they were currently riding in.
A light-headed Maximo stared in horror as Alonso's lifeless body fell to the ground beside him. The shock, coupled with the fact that he was about to pass out, blurred his vision for a few seconds.
The shooter hovered above him, and a face swam before his partially closed lids. That face was no stranger to Maximo. His heart skipped a beat as he choked out the one name he never thought he would be calling again. "Ma... Mariano... son."
~°~