Fearing for my life, I jumped out the window, and slammed into the pavement below…

My name is Jacob Fabriztio and I work for the FBI. I’m 30, years old and I live in New York. It was one of the more exciting days of my job. I was ordered to arrest a drug lord named Escobido and his unknown client. Intel was that he was making the transaction in room 34 of the Hilton hotel in New York City. I would stand watch outside the hotel. Once Escobido was in my sight, I would trail him to his room. Escobido usually has four bodyguards surrounding him at all times. During the time of the transaction, Escobido likes to be alone with his client, so he orders his guards to leave. During this time, Escobido’s guards are free to do what they want for 20 minutes, and knowing the attractions of the Big Apple, I predicted that they would be exploring the city the second they got the chance to. After that, the plan was straight forward; arrest Escobido and his buyer.

It was hard for me to fall asleep the night before. The thought of me taking down one of the most wanted drug lords in FBI history gave me an anxious feeling. Eventually I was able to fall asleep and I woke to the annoying beep of my alarm clock. One of the most important days of my life had began.

I got out of bed, excitedly. I had so much alacrity, I nearly tripped on my own two feet. Just the thought of capturing one of the most renowned drug lords ever put a smirk on my face. I threw on my black suit over my white cotton shirt, and put on my corduroy pants.  I hated the uniform, but it is protocol to wear the suit. I quickly trotted down to my apartment’s lobby where I was awaiting a unmarked white van. I waited inside in the warm lobby and helped myself to complimentary cup of dark roast coffee.  As I sipped from my Styrofoam cup, I tried to clear my mind of the idea that this might be the last day of my life. So far, three agents had gone after Escobido, all three had died trying to capture him.

The white van pulled up. I opened the sliding door of the van and hopped in. Behind the wheel was an agent named Jack Johnson, who I perform several previous missions with. Riding shotgun was my partner Justin Fletcher, who started to informed me on the mission info. Justin told me that Escobido’s room had a window, and since it was only one story high, I could use it as a quick means of escape. He also said that the van would be stationed under in front of the hotel so we could quickly escape the hotel.

“This is supposed to be a quick operation,” He exclaimed. “I assume you brought your firearm?”

I pulled back the right side of my suit-jacket, revealing my firearm. He nodded.

“So you know the plan right? It’s not one of our more complex ones. All you gotta do is wait for Escobido’s bodyguards to leave the premise, arrest Escobido and his client and get out.”

“You think Escobido knows that we’ve come for him?” I asked.

“No way, we’re gonna catch him completely off guard. Don’t worry kid, your gonna do fine. Take this,” Justin said has me handed me an ear com.  As I placed in in my ear, the car screeched to stop.

“Try not to draw any attention to yourself, Escobido probably has people patrolling the hotel,” whispered the driver.

I gave him a thumbs up and nervously, I slowly opened the sliding door of the van and stepped out onto the wet asphalt. The amazing sight of the 20 story hotel made me feel a bit better. I tried to think happy thoughts to myself.

“It’s ok,” I thought, “I have two years of FBI training under my belt.”

I stood watch across the street from the hotel, monitoring every person that came in or out of the doors of the Hilton. Suddenly, I spotted six figures walk into the hotel.

“You see them?” asked the voice in my ear.

“Yea, I’m in pursuit,” I replied.

Quickly, I ran out door to pursue Escobido. My heart was racing as a crossed the drew glazed streets. As the doors of the hotel automatically opened, I scanned the lobby for Escobido and his men. They were nowhere to be seen.

“Did Escobido know I was coming for him?” I thought.

I surveyed the lobby and noticed that the main desk was to the right. I walked over trying to keep my cool. For all I knew, every single person in that room could being working for Escobido. I can’t believe I was assigned to this mission. What can be more dangerous than a solo agent interrupting a deal between an unknown buyer and  criminal we know next to nothing about.  Ugh. I would feel so much better if I actually had  a backup, but apparently because this mission “never happened” more than one agents might jeopardize its confidentiality. I’m so caught up in my thought I almost run into a person walking by.

“Focus,” I thought, “One mistake could get me killed.”

As I took a few more steps, I arrived at the main desk.

“Hello, how may I help?” The man at the counter said.

“Have you checked in a party of five on the the first floor?” I asked.

“Do you know the name of the reservation?” He replied.

“No,” I said sternly.

“Let me look,” He said, eyes are glued to a computer screen.

‘“Does Odibocse sound familiar?” he asked.

“Yea, I forgot the reservation name, he’s a good friend of mine,” I lied.

“Oh ok,” said the man,”Take the elevator to the first floor, take your first right and the third room on your left is 34.”

“Thanks,” and with that I told a couple steps to the elevator and pressed the button with ‘1’ ” marked on it. It took a while to arrive but after a few minutes, the doors opened with no one inside. I step through the metal doors and clicked the ‘close doors’ button.

The elevator arrived at the first floor with a jerk. I followed the directions to the room. Across from 34, was a janitor’s closet, which I decided to hide in for the moment.

“Fletcher to van, Fletcher to van, do you copy,” I asked frantically.

“Roger , Fletcher we hear you loud and clear. What’s the problem.”

“Did Escobido’s body guards leave the premises.”

“No, but….. actually they just left the building, you are clear to execute the mission.”

“Ok this operation is officially underway,” and with that a opened the janitor door, pulled out my gun, shot the door knob, and proceeded into the dark room…

As I snuck into the room with my gun raised, I saw two figures, both sitting on wooden chairs in the middle of the suite. The room was quite dim and the only source of light came from a window. I crept towards the figures.

“Perhaps they hadn’t seen me,” I thought, “I did have a silencer on the barrel of my gun.”

I snuck closer and closer.

“Had they still not seen me?!”

Something about Escobido mystified me. Why hadn’t I just kicked open the door, why did I feel like I needed to continue creeping closer and closer to the criminal and his client. The closer I got, the more and more danger I was in, but never the less, I continued. I was almost half when there, when the client spotted me. He quickly turned his head and stood up. He was about to say something but I beat him to the bunch.

“FBI,” I shouted, “Put your hands in the air!”

The client looked surprised. His eyes were wide, his mouth was half open and he was shivering. As he stood up, I got a better look at him.  He was wearing beige cargo pants, and an orange and white striped polo shirt. He had a round face with a 5-o’clock shadow. His hair was messy and he had tiny scar on his forehead. He didn’t exactly have a crook-ish look about him, but I couldn’t say the same about Escobido. He slowly stood with sly, calm look about him. Escobido looked the the type of man that would steal your money and kill your family without a thought of regret. He was wearing black slacks, and a weathered collared shirt. He had a slightly  oblong face, which sported many freckles and a few scars. He had slicked back, greasy, black hair and had the body of a man you’d see standing outside  a club, telling which people were on the list and which had to beat it.

Escobido’s facial expression looked puzzlingly calm. I hoped it was clear that I had the upper hand in this situation. Escobido’s hands were folded in a diabolical manner.

“Put your hands up!” I repeated. Escobido did so.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” Escobido’s harsh voice said. With that question, two bodyguards rushed into the room. Each had black masks with assault rifles in their hands.

“Drop your weapon,” the biggest one ordered. I had no chance of taking them on so I dropped my gun.

“Put your back against the wall!” the other one ordered. I slowly walked to the wall with the window, knowing the beautiful sight of the city was possible the last thing I’d ever see. Out side the window I noticed man waving his hands above his head, like he was trying to get my attention. I recognized Justin from the window.  I would have to create a distraction.

“Hey,” I quivered, “Doesn’t that picture look like a cigar?  You would know a lot about those wouldn’t you?”

“Do not waste my time, the minutes of your life are numbered,” Escobido mused cruelly.

“No, really, is that not one of your high quality, extra addictive, cigars?”

“I assure you, there are no pictures of my cigars in this hotel,” he snarled.

“You sure?” I asked with an analytical tone.

“Roberto, Paez, see if the punk is  telling the truth?” Escobido barked angrily.

The body guards glanced back. I had to make my move now.

“I don’t see anythi-,” exclaimed, but finished mid sentence. I jumped out the window, and slammed onto the pavement below.  Pain surged through my  ankle. As I struggled to stand up, I could felt my ankle snap back into place. I felt a shot of aggravating pain in my ankle but it quickly dissipated. I took a couple hobbled steps  over to the unmarked van, which pulled up immediately after I jumped.

“Quickly get in!” Fletcher hollered.

I opened the door, slowly and painfully, and hobbled in.

“It was a trap, I don’t know how he found out, there must be snitch,” exclaimed Fletcher.

Leg throbbing, I closed the door of the van and lay on the bed of the vehicle, praying for the pain to go away. Fletcher sped through the city. Thanks to a device in the van, we were able to change lights from red to green, and since everyone was at work, there wasn’t too much traffic.

“There’s a trucker C.V. radio in the glove compartment, we might be able to contact the the FBI and tell them this mission has been compromised,” Johnson exclaimed.

Fletcher opened the compartment. Inside was the radio, along with a uzi, and an inflatable lifeboat. Fletcher, with a frantic yet diabolical  manner, pulled out the uzi.

“Fletcher what are do doing,” ” I shouted. “Get to the radio, Escobido can still be captured?!”

With a  snort sort of laugh, he cocked the uzi pointed it at Johnson, and pulled the trigger of the uzi. With a muffled bang, 3 bullets surged through Johnson’s body. I could see pools of blood forming on his white collared shirt. He shoved Johnsons body out of the van. Fletcher, with his uzi pointed at me, pressed the “stop engine” button of the car. The wheels screeched to a stop.

“You diabolic backstabber,” I grunted through my teeth with a infuriated expression on my face.

“What must be done, has to be done,” he said in a perfect Mexican accent.

“Just kill me now,” I snarled, “I’ll never talk!”

“We’ll see about that, Escobido has something…..special in store with you,” he smirking. All of a sudden, a man wearing a black mask opened the car door. He put a piece of wet cloth over my piece. I tried to push him away but with every breath, I felt myself becoming more and more tired.

“See you later, homes,” he said jokingly.

I was about to say something but I slurred my words. The word traitor buzzing around my head and with a final moment of consciousness, I saw a dark figure looming over me,  holding a……….jar of pickles from Tijuana? That was the last thought I had before I collapsed, my face colliding with the dew glazed asphalt.

I woke up in pitch dark room, my limbs ached. I’m covered in a foul smelling liquid. I took a deep breath in with my nose. It’s pickle juice! That sick man Escobido. How does he know I hated pickles? Well I suppose the better question was what doesn’t he know. I heard the unmistakable creak of a metal door on its rusty hinges. I couldn’t see who walked in, just his/her silhouette against the light seeping into the dark room. As the figure walked closer its features became clearer. It was a man, broad shoulders. About 7 feet tall. He wore a pair of torn up jeans and a ill-fitting polo shirt.

The man dragged a chair over across from and sat down.

“So, you’re Escobido’s new meat?”

“I suppose so,” I stuttered. I tried to keep a calm complexion, but I knew I wasn’t getting out of this one alive.

“Escobido has given you two options, you can either be covered with bloody meat and be feed to the Sharks. Or, since Escobido is in this medieval phase, you can take a trip to the guillotine.”

My heart started to pound. The academy taught me to be resourceful but I didn’t know what I could use.  My limbs were secured to the armrest and the legs of the chair.

“Well, if I die, it might was well be quickly,” I said. I tried to hold back the small clumps of water gathering in my eyes.

“The guillotine it is,” the man responded. All of a sudden, the man paused for a second looking me right in the eyes. He quickly pulled out a gun and locked the door to the room. I could hear frantic Spanish being spoken from the other side of the door.

“You should thank me,” he whispered as he cocked the gun. He put it to my…BANG…

Three years later…

 

I thought joining the CIA was supposed to make everything right.  It got my parents off my back, it helped me financially, and it got me wound up into chasing the world’s most wanted drug salesmen, codename, “Escobido”.  I’ve traveled the world searching for him;  Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Barcelona, and Taipei, I’ve only gotten glances of his silhouette.  His bodyguards were not making the job any easier.  Escobido was a special case of drug dealing, because he doesn’t sell the drug in boxes or in bottles, he puts the drug in burritos, tacos, and quesadillas.  The worst part, every drugged burrito was identical to the next.  For years every time I thought I had a lead on where he was going next, he was already on the other side of the world. How?  He had a man on the inside. An agent by the name of, Justin Fletcher, was spying on the agency for two years, and reporting to Escobido on a salary of 30,000 dollars a month. But we caught him and forced him to tell us where Escobido was going next.

Turned out, his next client was in New York City, waiting for Escobido at the Ritz Plaza Hotel, on 235 W 48th St, New York, 10036.  Escobido usually had one of his bodyguards make the deliveries for him, but this was a special delivery that Escobido would make personally to his client on the 47th floor, room number 238.  My mission was simple, wait for Escobido to excuse his bodyguards from the premises.  My agents will arrest his bodyguards after Escobido enters the building.  After that the plan was simple.  Arrest Escobido and his client.  If we fail, once again the plan was simple, my snipers would eliminate Escobido.

Ugh, what’s that beeping sound?!  I threw my alarm clock against the wall.  Frustrated already, knowing that the most important day of my life had begun, I jumped in the shower and had a cup of “delicious” coffee from the continental breakfast room in my hotel.  Annoyed, I sit at the table in my room looking over the files of all the last Escobido chases. Usually, I wouldn’t be so stressed, but Jacob Fabriztio (the FBI agent who was assigned to kill Escobido a few years ago) was captured on a mission JUST like this.  We still haven’t even found his body and what if…Ugh.  What makes this even more creepy is that in all my years of searching, all I really know for sure about Escobido is that he hates grilled cheese sandwiches, which is ironic because all of his drug products have cheese in them.  Pathetic huh?  After 12 years of chasing one man, all I know about him is that he doesn’t like grilled cheese sandwiches. Heck, we didn’t even know how to spell his name right.  Knowing that this might be my last day on earth is a little bit unsettling, even when you know you have ten of the highest ranked agents in the world on your side.  I decided to take a walk to clear my mind.

The rain streamed down my umbrella, onto my coat, down my pants and onto my shoes.  Everyone else was having a perfectly normal day.  It seemed like I was the only one getting wet.  Maybe it isn’t so bad, I’m gonna die anyway.  And I almost died numerous times before.  This whole Escobido thing is just a huge pain in the ass.  Uh oh.  Here comes the van.  Even if I tried to back out, Escobido would just hunt me down.  He knows a lot more about me then I know about him.

The car ride didn’t help my mental state at all.  Three hours in a car on the New Jersey turnpike with ten other agents of the CIA and FBI.  As we drove on the never ending two lane road, (you can’t see anything but trees) it gives you lots of time to think about the plan.  Our leader, Zack Greens, went over the protocol for all of the possible outcomes of the mission.  But I wasn’t even listening.  I’m concerned about myself.  What if Escobido comes after me and kills me?  What if the mission fails, what if the back up plan fails, what if the backup backup plan fails?  Questions like that ran races in my head the whole car ride.  As these questions dance around a bonfire in my head, I heard two loud bangs and an ear-bleeding screech.  Our  back tires had been shot out.  Then we were sideswiped by another black van, screeching down the exit ramp… everything went black.

Dazed and confused, I sat up, clasping my head in frustration.  The van was tossed like a cork down the hill.  It looked like a crumpled chip bag.  I heard the sound of burning rubber in the distance and violent screams suddenly muffled.  I then realized I was the only one in the van.  I sat there wondering how long I was out.  I was on my own in the middle of the cold and misty New Jersey turnpike.

Escobido has spoken.

Hitching a ride on the New Jersey turnpike is like trying to only eat one of the little squares on the Hershey’s chocolate bar.  Everytime I heard a plane flying by, I thought that there was a car coming my way, until I looked up.  Finally a car picked me up.  It was an old cruddy van, driven by a hippie, but I was desperate.  He must have noticed my tie-die shirt under my torn aviator jacket.  He pulled his car up beside me.

“You ain’t from ‘round here are ye?” he asked me in a deep texan accent.

“I flipped my van over the side of the hill,” I said.

“How’d ye do that?”

“I was texting.”

“Who?”

“You know, my… Aunt Dave.  She lives in New York.  At the Ritz Plaza.  Could you take me there?”

“Sure thing son.  Get yer fancy-ass in the backseat.”

“Thank you sir you are very kind.”

He looked at me as if I had mental problems and said, “I know.”

I had the worst car ride ever in that hippies car from the turnpike.  First, it smelled like sweaty gym socks and second, he played the same song on his ipod over and over for the entire car ride.  By the end of the ride, I had memorized all of the lyrics to “Let It Go.”  When he dropped me off in the front of the ritz plaza, I was glad as hell to breathe fresh air; his car didn’t have windows or air conditioning.

“Hey,” he said, “If you need a lift ever again, call me.”

“What for, you don’t even have a cell phone.” I replied.

“Hey,” he said again, “You can call me on the radio.”

He screeched off into the distance, bumping into any car that got in his way, shouting, “Wrong bloody lane buddy!”

I still had about an hour before Escobido was due here.  But I had to rethink everything.  Months of planning had gone to waste with that car accident.  How was I supposed to get past his bodyguards?  They were the toughest men in North America, maybe even the world.  I had think on my feet.  And I needed new clothes.  It looked like I spent half my day in a washing machine full of rocks.  There was a target across the street.  There always was.  I bought some nice clothes and took a shower in the Plaza.  Then I thought of something genius.

As a thin blanket of mist fell over the city that never slept, I’m walking toward the Ritz Plaza with untouchable confidence in my plan that I thought of as I ate the world’s worst chicken kabob.  As the mist cleared, I saw the faded sign of the Ritz Plaza, and a single light from one room.  As I approached the bodyguards, I noticed that they had their backs to me, and were speaking about Escobido.

“He’s so mean to me bruh,” said the one called Roberto said.

“Then maybe you’re not cut out for this job, you were always a wuss,” said the one called Paez.

“I’m only in this for the chicken “quesadillas”,” said Roberto.

Perplexed by their unusual conversations, I stood there for a minute.  Each one of those guys could knock me out in a single blow, especially Roberto, and all of them combined could punch me into the past.

“Hi guys,” I squeaked, finding my voice.

They turned around to face me and formed a literal human wall, and blocked the entrance.

“You looking for someone chico?” said Paez.  His face was as beaten up as an old weathered baseball, scarred, lopsided, and dented in various places.  His thick black hair coasted down to his broad shoulders.  His tattered jeans and faded leather jacket were too tight, only emphasizing his bulging arm muscles.  His arms were as thick as cannon barrels.

“I was just wondering if I could get into the hotel to use the really fancy bathroom phone,” I said and nodded as if it were a completely reasonable request.

“I don’t think so,” he said, “We have someone doing business upstairs, and he wishes not to be disturbed.”

“Why, is this someone using the bathroom phone too?” I said.

“No! Just turn around and walk away before we have to escort you away,” said Paez, with a smirk on his face. Probably thinking how nice it would be to make my faceprint be engraved in the marble floor.

“Look fellas please, I just need to call my Aunt in the bathroom and then I’ll leave, you can even escort me,” I said.

Paez considered it for a brief moment, then whispered something in Roberto’s ear, and said,”Follow Roberto, and if you even think about trying something funny, you will not make it out of this building alive.”

I followed him down the hallway to the left of the stairwell.  Then he followed me into the bathroom and waited outside the stall.  I took out the water bottle and fashioned it onto a wooden stick that was attached to the door.  Then I tied the water bottle to the stick with toilet paper.

“Hurry up in there!” Roberto growled.

Mysteriously, I crawled under the stall door to my right and under to the next stall, and kept crawling under the stalls until I was two feet away from the door.  The water bottle was buying me some time.  But it ran out and it dripped onto the floor.

Roberto’s patience had worn thin, and punched the door open.  He screamed “Where is he!!!!!”  He turned around to find me but his worn out sneakers slipped on the wet marble floor and hit his head on the toilet seat.  I only had a couple of seconds before he woke up again.  It was now or never.  I plunge out the door and race up the stairs and get in the elevator, and repeatedly tapped 47 on the elevator buttons.  The doors wouldn’t close quick enough.  Ascending now, I lay there impressed with myself, until I realized that I hadn’t called my aunt.

Ding…Ding…Ding.  The elevator doors opened casually as I strolled out onto the platform.  There were two ways to go, and based on my time, I had to choose which way to go and couldn’t go the other way.  Thank god there were signs on the walls.  I scramble down the left corridor and reach the end of the hall, no room 238.  I had to risk it.

I run as fast as my legs could carry me down to the other side of the corridor.  No 238.  I leaned my head against the wall, and contemplated failure. And slammed my fist into the wall.  It made a loud bang.  Wait a second, I thought, the wall is hollow! I looked for a crease in the wall, but found nothing.  Check the other side!!! My instincts say, and as I turn around and lift the picture off the wall to check for a crease, I hear thundering footsteps of the guards racing up the stairs, the sound was getting closer and closer.  There was a knob that said “Abre-Cierra.”  I wish I had paid attention in that god awful spanish class.  I had to turn it.  I tried Abre, and the doors behind me collapsed into one another folding away like a bedsheet, to reveal a dark corridor, lined with spiderwebs and a single light at the end of the hallway.  Ding…Ding…Ding rings the elevator.  Paez’s voice shook the building as he roared, “Ven aqui taco, a que te voy a matar!” There was no other option.  I plunged into the darkness, running in no particular direction, as the walls closed behind me.  Paez’s outraged screams echoed in the corridor for a long time, and then something pierced me in the back of the neck, and I fell over, losing consciousness as I fell with a thud to the ground.

 

Ugh… I woke up in a daze, as my eyes adjusted to the light. I was tied to a chair, wood by the feel of it.  There was a gag over my mouth, and cold beaded sweat dripping down my face.  A single, bright, light was installed in the center portion of the room and I was sitting at a table, one of those metal, tray tables you see at the doctors office, facing a dark hooded figure on the other side of the table.  He was wearing baggy jeans and a turquoise overcoat.  On the tray table, was a rusty hammer, a silver pair of pliers and a round object that was being covered by a blood stained, velvet cloth.  He tilted his head up so I could see a cruel smile through the shadow.

“Do you know why you are here?” he said as he viciously ripped the gag off my mouth.

“No, why… who are you?” I grumbled.

“I am Escobido, and you are here because the last agent failed to catch me,”

And with that, Escobido’s hand slowly lifted the velvet cloth off the object, revealing the decapitated head of Jacob Fabriztio. I shake my head in disbelief. Here, propped up before me like some kind of trophy, was his pale blue decapitated head on the tray table. It was a gruesome thing, scarred in several places, matted hair, no nose and there was a bullet hole in his forehead.

“Guess how long Jacob lasted in our…”care?”

I gulped down my fear and was surprisingly able to mutter out the words “how long”.

“We were going to use the guillotine, but unfortunately, one of our disobedient agents killed him mercifully, out of the goodness of his heart.  Luckily for you, our business doesn’t tolerate merciful acts of kindness.  Hector isn’t around anymore.”

“Unfortunately for you, my friends and I have been brainstorming loads of aggravating ways to dispatch of you, perhaps a lava bath or a sulfuric acid injection. My mouth is watering at the thought of spilling your blood today.  Today you… you are the bug on my windshield and I am going to crush you,” he said psychotically.

“But I think that I will spare your life,” Escobido mused, “It amuses me how you desperately try to catch me, but all I have to do is sit in a chair and watch from my TV screen and watch you suffer.  So I will let you go.  But remember, chico, for every 1 of your FBI agents, I have 8  of my men at my disposal. This is a war you simply can’t win.”

Then everything went black… again…

 

I woke up in the bathroom stall of a Starbucks in New Mexico, my clothes drenched in pickle juice. Passing out twice in a day really gives you a migraine.  I emerged from the stall and walked out into the waiting room only to find Zach and the rest of my team, calmly sipping pumpkin spice lattes.  Zach was wearing black sweatpants and a corduroy shirt.  His hair was matted with sweat, his expression sombre.  I couldn’t believe that Escobido let me live.  I had gone that far to carry out the mission, only to be sent back to square one.  Escobido was planning something extravagant, like party with the gods extravagant, and I needed to stop it.

 

Russia, May 8th, 2016

 

“We’re almost there!” Zack shouted over the howling icy winds.  “Were suppose to be at the rendezvous site ,” I say.

According to Zack, my newly assigned partner, we were supposed to travel to a remote part of Russian Plains where we would flown back to the states for debriefing. Various thoughts danced around a bonfire in my brain.

 

“Why would Escobido let me off the hook, scot-free?  It didn’t didn’t make sense.  He must have done something…” I thought.  Then I had a frightening realization.  The migraine still had not dissipated.  It should have by now.  In fact it had gotten worse since I woke up in the Starbucks stall.  Something must have happened to me within the time I was knocked out in Escobido’s room. I thought about telling my team, but since it showed no signs of being deadly, I decided not to tell them. I didn’t want to put even more stress on them than there already was, chasing a highly dangerous drug lord and all.

 

Zack glanced at the driver and ordered, “Turn right into this Taco Bell drive through.”

 

Really?  We come all the way from Mexico to Russia to have more Mexican food?  The van slowed to a stop at the window.  A few minutes later, we all had a burrito of our own.  The burrito didn’t sit well in my stomach.  Then again nothing did when you were facing death. We drove for an hour, hoping the tires didn’t pop from the poorly paved back roads. We were both silent, Zack wasn’t much of a conversationalist.  The car started making grunting sounds and it slowed to a stop.  Zack got out, his eyes clouded with fear and confusion, went around the back and started unloading the car. There wasn’t a person in sight, just hundreds of miles of grass and brush. I went around to help him, only to be confronted by a gun stuck in my face.

“Zack, what are you doing!” I gulped.

“It doesn’t matter now, Escobido will be here shortly.” Zack beamed.

The clouds above us started to fray and a sudden booming sound pierced my ears.  As the dark figures came into visibility, the whirring sound got louder.  Once the mist cleared, the two stealth helicopters had become visible, positioned on both sides of our van.  Roberto and Paez stepped out of the helicopter on the right, walking towards me shoulder to shoulder.  They stopped twenty feet away from me and stepped once away from each other, to reveal, Escobido.

Escobido, a cruel figure, scars in several places, was dressed in black clothes, and glasses that read on the outside, “Keep calm and eat burritos”.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” he inquired.

“It’s a habit.” I mocked.

“Heres what I’ve decided to do, my friend Zack here has taken you to the Russian Plains. Not a sign of civilization for miles. I’m gonna leave you here and see where you end up. But before I go,  let me introduce you to the newest addition to our crew.” he boomed.

Something cracked the ground behind me, as if a mini meteor had struck earth, and as I turned around I realized, I was facing the closest thing earthbound to a god.  His arms were as thick as cannon barrels, the top of his head barren, and his jaw appeared primordial.  He appeared to be homoerectus on steiroids.  The crack in the ground was from him jumping from the helicopter 40 feet above.

“Meet Rifleto,” He said dramatically.

Suddenly, my walkie talkie started going off.  It was the CIA.  They were asking us to report our position.  Escobido was still staring at me through his glasses.  As the communication carried out, I felt a cold bead of sweat drip down my face, as Escobido slowly started to smirk.

“Tell them you are going off grid for a while… a long while…”

Escobido and his men climbed back in his helicopter.

I  once again heard the roar of the helicopter motors. It took a few seconds before the wheels of the chopper left the ground. As it flew away I could see Escobido peering out the window of the chopper, smirking at me.

 

Suddenly my head started pounding like a drum, harder and harder.  The migraine was intensifying.  I tried to stay on my feet, but my knees buckled. It  felt like my brain was swelling up. I knew if I didn’t get to a doctor soon I would be a dead man. I fell to the ground, my face hitting the dirt below me.

Suddenly, I heard the sound the car pulling up. The door opened and I could hear heavy footsteps coming towards me. I felt a sharp needle penetrate my back. I cried out in pain, but stopped when I realized that the pain in my head dissipated. I tried to turn around to see the man who saved my head from exploding but I was shoved to the ground.

“Stay down,” the man whispered.

“Who are you,” I was able to stutter out.

“The man who just saved your life,” he replied.

After the man made sure the copter was out of sight, he helped me to my feet. I slowly glanced up, trying to get a glimpse at the man.  It took me a few seconds to recognize his face, but as soon as I did I immediately became on edge. The man was one of Escobido’s associates.

“Drink this,” he said, “ You need to rest for a while.  Escobido injected you with a bio agent he calls  Mercury Diablo.”

I took the cup he was offering me and drank it.

“Why are you helping me,” I asked  as the pain in my head sizzled down.

“I cannot tell you that right now, but be grateful, I  just saved you from going into shock. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. ”

The man helped me into his pickup  truck.

“How did you know what to give me to stop the poison, how did you know where Escobido was going to drop me off, how…”

“I can’t tell you right now, but I can tell you who I am and my connections to Escobido,” he interrupted.

“My name is Thomas Hernandez. I worked for Escobido for about 5 years. You see, every time he captured a CIA agent, he brought them to me, to see what information I could get out of them. About 3 years ago, I was told to interrogate then kill an agent named Jacob Fabriztio. Something about him made me feel sorry about him, so, I went against my orders and put a bullet in his head. I spared him from an horrible death  and much agony. I quickly escaped Escobedo’s compound before they caught me, but I did not get away unscathed.”

Thomas rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and revealed a circular scar.

“After 2 years of laying low, I finally got Escobido’s men of my back. I can’t tell you any more than that.” He explained.

Something in me actually pitied Thomas, but something else in me wanted to put a bullet in his head. Thomas looked around, then put his keys into the pickup truck’s ignition and drove away from the scene. The car ride back to civilization was quite. So many questions came, left, then re-entered my mind. I was still very weak from the Mercury Diablo.

After about an hour of driving we pull up to a small cottage,  just outside the reaches of a city.

He pulled the truck to a stop, right in front of the small house. He got out of the truck and came over to my side to help me out. He put his arm around my shoulders and helped me out of the truck.

“You will be safe here,” he said reassuringly, “You just need some rest, the Mercury Diablo has really took its toll on you. Fortunately, its effects are not permanent. You will have trouble seeing, trouble walking, and impaired motor skills. Not to mention a pounding headache that comes and goes.”

I nodded in compliance. Thomas helped in in the house. It was a small house, one living room, one bedroom, and two bathrooms. He laid me on the couch.

“Rest, you will feel better in a couple days,”He exclaimed.

I lay on the couch, perfectly still, think about all the things that happened, just happy that I was still alive…

 

End of Part One