Moonlit Retribution

Chapter Twenty-Two

Motioning to Mella, I fall to my knees and begin crawling towards what I hope is the house. Catching my motives, she follows silently as the scuffle of boots and cracking of reloaded guns makes my ears throb, my heart thrum with fear and a bizarre form of excitement. I peg it on the adrenaline.

It occurs to me that we aren’t going to make it very far in the house (if we’re even going in the right direction) with the guys still loaded and ready to kill. Really, we’d only be trapping ourselves if we managed to get it. I throw a glance over my shoulder and lock eyes with Mella, who’s bleeding from her left eyebrow and is sporting a decent shiner on her right eye. Jerking my head, I motion for her to follow. She glares at me incredulously, but I try to put off the vibe that I know what I’m doing. Shaking her head, she complies, and we quietly trudge our way back to the ever-clearing land.

I make another motion that earns me a look that clearly questions my sanity. But I keep going forward, and Mella does as I suggest.

Two men lie splayed out on the ground, the dry earth absorbing the blood so easily spilling from their bodies. Some are doubled over, and I recognize one as Elliot, who’s oscillating his actions from scanning the area and trying to rip the knife out of his shoulder. Even I know that that won’t do anything but make him bleed more, but there he is, cursing and yanking. They’re all huddled into one main group, all facing outward to keep their backs safe. Fine by me.

I might pause to feel sorry for these men who are just doing their jobs, except for the fact that one of their jobs includes killing Ríjez if they find him. As it is, I’m fighting a losing battle against a sadistic grin.

I launch myself from the ground, coming in at the sides of the men, smashing my boot into the faces of the startled group as Mella wrenches her knife from Elliot’s bleeding shoulder. Together, with me going clockwise and her counterclockwise, we knock the guns from their hands and kick them away, kicking up dust to partially blind them.

A few men break from the group, obviously not deterred by their broken noses and lack of firearms to keep from attacking us. Snatching a heavy rifle from the ground, I smash it into one’s nose and relish his cry of agony as dark red blood shoots out like a geyser. Raising the firearm like a sledgehammer, I bring it down on his head, and he crumples to the ground with a heavy thud. For good measure, I repeat the motion, over and over and over, until blood seeps from his ears, until the dark liquid puddles at the man’s head. A blinding haze has settled over my vision, but I like its obscurity. It makes me feel invincible, powerful.

“Having fun there?”

The haze clears slowly, like fog being blown away by a lazy sea breeze. I look up, gun still raised above my head, and seek out the source of her voice with a sheepish grin plastered on my face. Mella looks both irritated and worried. Mostly irritated, but the fact that she has any amount of concern on her face tells me that something is very wrong.

Twisting in my place, I take stock of the situation. All of the men are down, prone on the ground, limbs akimbo, some bleeding and some just groaning lowly. Most seem to be unconscious, or at least immobilized.

I turn back to Mella with a question in my eyes. She just smirks slightly and brandishes her thumb and forefinger, making a pinching motion. “Nerve pinch,” she explains curtly.

“Ah.” Gonna have to make her teach me that one…

Letting the gun sag in my grip, I turn to study the house. For some reason, I’d expected more men to come pouring out to aid Mella’s and my captors. The gunfire should have alerted them to the skirmish…so why aren’t they out here? I ask Mella, but all I get is a shrug, and she barges right to the cellar door, heedless of the fact that an ambush could very well by lying in wait for us.