by Paco Tuesday
Continued…
Wreck and Ruin arrived at Jamaal Jackson's "secret" complex at 11:30pm. The Facility was apparently deserted. Wreck, still searching for clues as to the mayor's whereabouts, opened one of the fenced animal pens and then stepped inside. There, lying very cold and still, lay the incredibly toned body of nineteen-year-old Damaso Torres. The youth's face looked ashen and he appeared so lifeless that even Wreck could not stifle a cry of pity.
Ruin took a deep breath. The immense executioner then knelt beside the still young man, checking the still form for a sign of life.
"He's dead, huh?" asked Wreck, running his hands nervously through his blond hair. "Looks as if someone beat and throttled him."
After a few moments of examining the youngster, Ruin replied,
"He's not dead. Someone strangled him into unconsciousness with a particular kind of choke hold that shuts off BLOOD to the brain, but not oxygen. He came damn close to buying the farm though!"
Wreck, not even pretending to be performing some sort of medical procedure on the youth, slowly and methodically slid off Damaso’s shoes and socks. Admiring the lad’s bare feet, a tear nearly came to his eyes when he saw how near-perfect the boy’s golden-tan toes were, He messaged and kneaded and caressed those toes too—blissfully moaning and longing to take those toes into his mouth and suckle them like a baby at its mother’s breast. When he felt himself “leaking” in his pants, Wreck stopped fondling the unconscious youth’s toes and sat back and waited for Damaso to come to his senses.
Eventually the youth groaned and stirred feebly. Slowly his dark eyes opened; he winced, turned his ashen face to the two brothers, and studied them for a time. Then his lips moved. He managed to gasp out all that he knew of Jamaal Jackson and mayor Samuel Hardgraves before he passed out again. It was just a stroke of luck that Ruin understood the youth's disconcerted Spanish.
So now Wreck and Ruin understood why Jackson had hired them to kill Hardgraves, then proceeded to rescue the very man whom he had paid them to murder. It was all a rouse. Jackson wanted Hardgraves to believe his life was in danger so that he could convince the mayor to hire his Dark Forces as a new protection battalion.
And once the Dark Forces were in good with Hardgraves, Jackson figured he would have a foothold into Safe Haven politics figured he could use his new influence with the mayor to keep the authorities away from The Facility and his illegal alien ransom operations.
"If that's the case, then this place hasn't been deserted long." Wreck reasoned.
His brother nodded,
"I figure Jackson and Hardgraves caught wind of us coming and fled to parts unknown with all of the prisoners."
He motioned with his eyes towards the unconscious Damaso,
"Except for this fellow here whom they left for dead."
"So what'll we do now?" asked Wreck.
Ruin breathed a heavy sigh,
"What do you think? We get this kid to a hospital then we go after Hardgraves and Jackson."
Wreck grinned and let out a convincingly evil war whoop as he dashed back towards the area where he and his brother had parked their motorcycles. Ruin, with Damaso slung over his shoulder, followed at a slower pace.
Before they left, the two brothers scouted The Facility from top to bottom while on their cycles. One empty hangar in particular became a point of interest. Their sight adjusted to the dimmer interior of the thought to be empty structure, and the gasps of horror caught in their throats.
Bodies lay strewn about the hangar like discarded sacks, torn, broken and lifeless. Miguel Garcia every young illegal immigrant prisoner, ripped apart as if by maddened animals.
I could see young Miguel Garcia who's body was less shredded than the others was lying with his dark eyes open in death, an unbelievable amount of blood pooled around his head. Despair filled the two assassins.
Though sickened by any sort of carnage that they themselves hadn't caused, Wreck and Ruin nevertheless couldn't bring themselves to move. They, along with Damaso, stood there, horror and revulsion sweeping through them.
The two assassins knew that they would encounter Jamaal Jackson again. And when they did the body count was certain to be much higher.
TO BE CONTINUED…
