talk to Major Curry while he stayed on the line. Within two minutes the dispatcher was back, asking for instructions. Kerney gave him directions, told him to send troops, medics, and an ambulance for Eddie on the double, and hung up.
Carlos was still unconscious. Kerney needed a way to make him spill his guts quickly. There was no time for a drawn-out interrogation. *** Sara shook her head furiously to dislodge the scorpion that fell into her hair. It crawled down her cheek and stung her before she could grind her face against the wall and mash it. The sting was painful. The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered as the fuel burned low, making it hard to see the insects. She had stopped counting how many she had killed. She could feel the remains of the squashed bug on her face. The blood in her mouth from Meehan's blow felt like dried paste.
Cold, she couldn't stop shivering as she continued to lose body heat. She hovered over the lamp and crunched another scorpion into oblivion. Staying alert was the key to survival. She started pacing the length of the cell. It was an old wine cellar that had been used as a jail cell many years ago. There were Spanish names, dates, and inscriptions scratched into the walls.
She kept searching for something to use as a weapon. She wanted Meehan to come back, but not until she could find a way to kill him. *** At the end of the Southern Pacific railroad yard where lines of old boxcars sat on spurs, Kerney rolled Carlos out of the truck and got busy. Down the line was an old brick engine barn built like a horseshoe with a series of huge bay doorways that yawned at the night. Carlos, stripped naked, hog-tied, and lying facedown on the railroad ties, looked ridiculous. A rope ran from around Carlos's chest to the rear truck bumper. Kerney had a clear run of several hundred feet before the spur dead-ended. He bent over Carlos and listened to his curses. The broken nose and missing false teeth made Carlos sound like Bullwinkle with a Mexican accent.
'You son of a whore,' Carlos said. 'Your mother eats sheep shit.' Carlos couldn't breathe very well, so he stopped for air.
'Finished?' Kerney asked.
'You better kill me, gringo.'
'I'm going to do that, Carlos. But you won't have any nuts left before you die. That I promise you.' He gave Carlos a friendly pat on the head and walked toward the truck.
'Wait a minute,' Carlos said, suddenly worried.
'No time,' Kerney said.
'Wait,' Carlos said, starting to feel panicked. Kerney got in the truck and slammed the door. He cranked the engine and drove fifty feet down the tracks. Even at a snail's pace, the undercarriage pitched and rolled over the railroad ties. Through the rearview mirror he could see Carlos bouncing along. He stopped before any serious amount of skin could be stripped off and went to check the damage. Carlos had his head pulled up to keep his face from smashing into the ties.
'Anything broken yet?' Kerney asked. Carlos grunted. His chest hurt. There were cinders embedded in his flesh from his knees to his shoulders. His testicles were burning. It felt as if a grinder were scouring off his skin.
'I'll pick up the pace a bit.' Again, Kerney patted Carlos on the head.
Carlos decided Kerney would turn him into a de balled vegetable. 'Wait,' he pleaded.
'I'm waiting for the directions to the hacienda,' Kerney replied.
'Okay,' Carlos said, and the directions tumbled out. When Carlos finished talking, Kerney cut him loose from the bumper, rolled him off the tracks into a pile of cinders, and told him to be patient, help was on the way. Lying in the cinders, Carlos renewed his insults. Kerney stuffed Carlos's shorts into his mouth to shut him up.
On the way to the border, Kerney called the military police again. This time, Kerney didn't have to wait to be taken seriously. He told the duty officer where to find Carlos, asked about Eddie, learned Tapia was en route to the hospital, a squad of military policemen were at the storage unit, and Tom Curry had arrived from Las Cruces by helicopter. The major wanted to talk to him right away. Kerney hung up before Curry could get on the line. *** Sara's shaking intensified, and she kept moving, trying to stay warm. She felt woozy and disoriented-all the classic signs of shock and hypothermia. It had taken a long time to maneuver a board against the wall and break an end piece with the heel of her boot. A hand-forged iron nail protruded from the wood. The board kept slipping from her fingers as she tried to pick it up with her hands cuffed at her back. She crouched down again, got a firm grip, and stood up, clenching the board in a hand.
She began pacing again to fight off the shivers, stopping to scrape the rotting wood against the wall to loosen the nail. Finally, it broke free and clattered to the floor. She searched blindly behind her back to retrieve it, her fingers stiff and cold. When she had it she could tell it was a good size, four or five inches long. If she could keep it out of sight and strike at the right time, it would do some damage. All she needed was the opportunity.
She heard footsteps approaching. The latch squeaked and the door swung open.
'It's time, Sara,' Meehan said. He pulled her roughly out of the cell into the room. A kerosene lamp by the pile of tarps lit up the room. He walked her over and pushed her down on the pile. She got quickly to her feet and tried to rush him. He knocked her down with a swipe across the face.
He walked up to her. 'I always thought you liked your sex rough. Is that the way you want to play it?' She glared at him.
'Is that the only way you can get it up, Jim?' He reached down and slapped her.
'Don't ever say that to me.' *** Kerney crawled as silently as possible, unable to avoid dislodging pebbles and loose earth as he moved up the hill. Each sound made him flinch in fear of discovery. He inched along and stopped behind a melted adobe wall. The terrain made it impossible for him to approach from any other direction. The ridge behind the hacienda, a steep embankment, would have been too difficult to climb down. He skirted the ridge on foot and started crawling when he reached the ruins of the settlement along the riverbank. With the moon up it was the only way to stay undetected.
Fifty yards above him was the hacienda. Adjacent to it, hard against the ridge, were the remains of a small village chapel, and a granary tower that looked like a fortress turret. The site, an excellent defensive position, commanded a clear field of fire down the hillside. The rock corral and the thick walls of the hacienda hid any sign of movement. Sara's Cherokee was in front of the hacienda. Kerney pulled himself away from the protection of a low wall and crawled on. He heard no sounds from above. He closed the distance cautiously, fighting the urge to get to his feet and run. *** Scrambling to her feet, Sara watched Meehan unzip his trousers and show her his erection. He moved between her and the stairs to keep her from bolting. Behind him she saw moonlight and stars in the night sky. He aimed the pistol at her belly.
'Turn around, Sara,' he ordered. Her face was puny, her lips and her eyes were red. Meehan liked what he saw.
'No,' Sara said. He waved the barrel of the gun.
'Turn around or I'll pistol whip you.' She turned and tightened her fingers around the nail, hoping that he wouldn't see it. He was breathing rapidly as he came near. He kicked her legs apart and pulled her blouse out of her jeans.
'Loosen the cuffs,' Sara pleaded, as Meehan undid the button of her jeans and opened the zipper with his free hand. The muzzle of the gun dug into her side. He laughed in reply, slipped his hand under her panties, and pulled her jeans and panties down to her knees. She waited until he put the gun away, grabbed her hips with both hands, and rubbed himself against her fanny. Twisting suddenly, she drove the nail into his groin and felt it penetrate. Meehan yelled and pulled away. She spun, kicked, and caught him on the thigh. It threw him off balance, but he didn't fall. Sara smashed her forehead into his face. He went down, reaching for his pistol.
'Bitch!' Meehan snarled. He held his crotch where the nail had gashed him.
'Fuck you, Meehan,' she said. Her foot was next to the lantern. She kicked it, and liquid flames spread across the floor, lapping at his feet. Pulling her jeans up as much as she could, she stumbled toward the steps. Meehan would have to shoot her in the back to stop her now.
'Stop!' Meehan shouted. She kept going, waiting for the impact of the bullets. She wanted to see the night sky one more time. Halfway up the steps, a figure appeared and a hand knocked her down.
'Roll!' Kerney commanded as he dropped into a prone position. She heard the sound of Kerney's weapon the instant she recognized his voice. He wasn't dead! Meehan was on his feet, his pistol aimed at her chest. She pitched down the steps as Meehan staggered and returned fire. Two rounds ricocheted above her head. Kerney fired again and again, and Sara watched Meehan fall. The tarps were burning, and flames lit up the room.
Sara stared into the fire without moving until Kerney's hand brushed her cheek.
