Cartel Chronicles

Chapter 1

"That's the dumbest explanation I have ever heard of," Manuel whined.

"About as dumb as you wanting to come along to help but not wanting to kill anyone!" Javier yelled. He turned his head so quickly to glare at his colleague that the vehicle swerved slightly off the road. "Do you want to call Ricky and ask him what he thinks?"

"No, no, it's fine," he stuttered.

"Good, we're almost there anyways." The two rode the rest of the way in silence, Manuel in fear, Javier anxiously.

"What if someone is awake and sees us coming?" Manuel finally broke the silence.

"You're right they're probably doing aerobics," Javier retorted. Manuel scowled and crossed his arms across his broad chest.

"One of these days you're going to thank you, you're going to say 'Gee Manuel, you're the shit, I never would have thought of that, you saved my ass.'"

"Not anytime soon." Javier killed the engine and took a minute to ponder the best way to handle this task. Javier pulled his gun out of his center console and polished it on his shirt.

"You still carry that piece of junk around?" Manuel inquired. "Didn't you get a new one last week?"

"This one is perfect, the barrel is small enough to fit in a mouth," he explained. Javier spoke with calculated madness that sent chills up Manuel's spine. He would never admit it, but he respected him and admired him above everyone else, even Ricky.

"His house is to the right at the end of this alley," Javier said nodding in the direction. "We're going to start in the basement and work our way upstairs. Have your gun drawn, but keep your hand off the trigger so you don't end up shooting anyone accidentally like last time." Manuel nodded not trusting himself enough to speak; he knew his voice would tremble.

"Leave the negotiating to me, now let's hurry up so we can grab a drink after," Javier said climbing out of the vehicle. The house was small, but modern, Manuel worried about the security system. Javier strolled up to the front door leisurely. He keyed in the code into the lock pad much to Manuel's surprise.

"How did you do that?" Manuel asked.

"Shhh," Javier ordered holding his barrel against the stoner's pursed lips. He walked inside, Manuel followed without making a sound. The house was pitch black, Javier had to rely on his memory to navigate them downstairs. A hallway night light illuminated just enough for Javier to make out the doorways of two bedrooms. He pointed his gun to the bedroom furthest from the stairs, his companion obediently followed gun drawn, hands trembling slightly. Javier's hands trembled for a different reason, in anticipation.

There was a sick and twisted game Javier liked to play when he went on these missions, he liked to look around at the household items they possessed and draw conclusions on how the people were based upon these observations. He would then build a personality from these inferences and then create a story in his mind why this person deserved to die. It was a demented game, but it was how he kept his sanity.

The room was decorated in toy cars and trains, something didn't seem right. Javier took his time creeping towards the bed. There was a little boy fast asleep. Javier could hear him breathing heavily, unaware of the present danger. He was younger than what he had anticipated almost too young. He wasn't prepared for this. Javier scanned the room, there was no way he could justify the child's death in his mind. He didn't clean his room? He drew on the wall with crayons? He hit his mother? None of those reasons deserved Javier's blood stained gun in his mouth.