at the fearsome animals. Private Zulu held up a pack of matches.
“These vampire hounds don’t like fire,” he said as he threw it at the advancing animals before realizing he hadn’t lit the pack first.
“Private Foxtrot,” the General called out. “Ordnance!”
“What ordnance?” Private Foxtrot replied.
“The dynamite. Light up a stick.”
“Them dang army
“Damn. Stay close to me, men.” The General marched backward. “To the bus. It’s our Alamo!” His men followed without breaking rank. Slowly, ever slowly, they inched toward safety. Several times the coyote pack attempted to separate them, always looking for the weakest link in their pack, more specifically, Private Zulu. Their hackles were up as they knifed in. Always, the men held rank, kicking and screaming at the four-legged intruders. Eventually, the bus came into sight. “Fire Team Leader Charlie,” the General shouted. “Can you make a break for the bus and get her started up?”
“Roger that.” The Fire Team Leader took off running toward the bus. One of the coyotes drifted after him. Running as fast as he could, the Fire Team Leader dove at the bus door, but the monster was upon him. It sunk its fangs into his calf and shook its head violently.
“Let him go, you son of a bitch!” Private Zulu screamed as he jumped on the back of the coyote pulling at his Team Leader. “Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!” he cried as he pounded on the neck of the creature. For just a second, the animal let go. “Shoo, you mangy jackass!” It turned and growled at him. He kicked at it. “Screw you, too,” he yelled as he pulled his Team Leader on board. Fire Team Leader Charlie took the keys from the glove compartment and fired up the bus. Seconds later, the rest of the men, followed by the General, clambered on board. Outside, the starving coyotes surrounded the bus and growled. One of them attacked the front tire.
“Head out!”
“Where?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked.
“Anywhere!” The Team Leader floored it, scattering the coyotes. The rest of the men on the bus frantically searched for their weapons. Racing across the desert, the animals howled in the background as they chased after the long vehicle. At full speed, Fire Team Leader Charlie took the rise above the spot where the honey pot had held Ziggy and Private Zulu. Even with its weight, the heavy bus caught air as it flew off the top of the ridge. The vehicle bounced twice upon landing while the Team Leader stood on the pedal, leaving the frustrated pack in the distance. He set out for the farmhouse while the militia fired their outdated weapons harmlessly out the windows at shadows.
Above, from the ridge, sets of glowing eyes watched as the bus bounced away.
Avery typed away at his computer…
To: Senior Management
Hotel 9 International
Dear Sir:
I’m writing to express my sincere disappointment with a recent stay at one of your business suite properties. Unfortunately, I’m currently working on a secret, clandestine intelligence operation with a foreign government, so I’ll have to keep this brief and to the point. Certainly I won’t be the first to suggest a major overhaul of your complimentary breakfast buffet. The eggs were dry, the cereal selection was abysmal, the frosting on the donuts was almost nonexistent, and the bacon was anything but thick-cut. Free shouldn’t mean free of quality. Secret operatives like myself require a hardy breakfast to have the energy to track down the most dangerous international criminals on the planet. It’s hard work, all the sleuthing, computer hacking, and what not. Without me operating at full mental capacity, the safety of the free world is at stake. The penalties for interfering with a special agent and his work are severe. To avoid a thorough investigation by the appropriate federal authorities, I demand a complete overhaul of your menu. Smoked salmon and a chocolate fountain for dunking donuts are mandatory. They’re completely non-negotiable. In the meantime, please forward two dozen vouchers for a free night stay via my attorney, Gregory Kennesaw Mountain. His address can be found in the Austin, Texas, directory. You have one week to reply to my demands. I’m now signing off to continue securing the free world from evil. Thank me later.
P.S. — During my stay, I observed a large, unruly group of vagrants in combat gear stealing from the buffet. Keep an eye out for them.
“Anything new to report?” Cesar asked as he entered the room.
“Stop interfering with my work! I’m trying to work here!” Avery put down the candy bar he was eating and slammed his laptop shut.
“Like, want some chips, army dudes?” Ziggy asked as the men of STRAC-BOM raced into the Padre’s entertainment room.
“Where have you been?” the General asked.
“I don’t, like, really know, man,” Ziggy said as he puffed away. “You tell him.” The skinny hippy looked at Nancy, who was resting at his feet on the couch. The iguana ignored him. “Want a smoke?”
“Hell, no!” the General said as he ripped the joint from Ziggy’s grasp and crushed it out on the floor. “Snap out of it — we’re under attack. Men, board up the doors and windows with anything you can find.”
“Attack?” asked the suddenly severely paranoid and positively stoned Ziggy. “Like, by who, man?”
“By them damn chupacabras,” Private Zulu said as he tried to move a heavy armoire in front of a window that had been shot out during the firefight. Ziggy looked at the haunting werewolf on the television screen and gulped.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tough Day at the Office
The city noise leaked through the windows the same way the smog did. Cesar paced back and forth in the informal command post. He hadn’t heard from Barquero in hours. It made him nervous. The Padre was in Monterrey. He was close. If he slipped away again, it was over. He would disappear, but his drug dealing and killing wouldn’t. The phone rang. Cesar picked it up.
“Good.” Cesar hung up the phone. “I’ve got him. What are you doing? Sleeping?” He smacked Avery across the head.
“No.” Avery rubbed his ear. “I’m simply reciting pi backward from its one-thousandth digit. It helps me to relax and concentrate. If someone isn’t hitting me!” he yelled. “Thanks for not helping.” Avery looked back at his keyboard. “I’m almost there.”
“Never mind that — my contact has found him.”
“Where?”
“At a warehouse. Here.” Cesar pointed to a spot on a map pinned to the wall.
“I doubt that. I’ve…”
“Shut up, we’re moving out. Sergeant, alert the team!”
“Really, you should listen to me…”
“Sergeant, I mean now!” Avery shrugged, and packed up his equipment and followed Cesar to the ground transportation.
