Certain Dark Things(88)

I don’t want her dead.

Nick. Inside her. Inside her mind. Like a parasite. She’d felt him during the drive here and she’d stared at Kika, unable to warn her about what had happened. Unable to tell her that Nick and his friends had decided to make cannon fodder out of them.

For a few seconds she was able to discern his thoughts, vague and deformed, like watching an old TV tuned to the wrong channel, lines running up and down the screen. She had the impression of a strong, sickening hatred and then images of blood and mayhem and the girl … the girl he was after. Atl. Cut, mangled, violated, tortured … these were Nick’s desires, his plans for the woman. Sickening ideas.

Another idea darted through his head. Ana caught a glimpse of herself, throat slit, bleeding to death. Then another vague thought: Marisol, also dead. No loose ends. Kill the cop and the bitch daughter.

And Atl, Atl, Atl, darling Atl. Like a mantra, the name dancing in his head, making Ana want to vomit, the psychotic f*ck’s thoughts mingling with her own.

She wanted to open her mouth. She wanted to yell and instead her mouth was clamped shut.

I don’t want her dead. Give her to me now.

Compelled by Nick, Ana raised her gun and shot Kika and her companion in the back, the sound of the shots echoing down the hallway. The young man who was standing behind Atl stared at her, as though she were an apparition, while Atl lay on her knees, squinting, still blinded by the light.

Grab her.

Ana prepared to obey the order, but then came a hard blow to the head and she dropped to the floor with a loud thud, the gun slipping from her grasp. She heard them as she lay just inches from Kika’s corpse, her ears ringing with the violence of the blow. The pain seemed to snap her connection from Nick. She felt like a sudden weight had slid from her body, and she was now mercifully alone inside her head. In pain, but alone.

“Are you hurt?” asked an older male voice.

Ana blinked tears away, trying to focus her eyes. She saw the older man scooping Atl up onto her feet. He was very tall, hunched.

“UV blindness. I’m seeing all fuzzy right now. You?” said the girl.

“Two silver bullets to the leg. Very unpleasant,” the man replied.

The young man was now touching Atl, one hand on her arm, the other on her cheek. His mouth was moving but he was speaking so low Ana didn’t catch what he said.

“You’ve seen my dog?” she heard the vampire girl ask.

“Safe and sound in the kitchen,” the older man said.

“We need to get him and get going.”

“How are we going to reach Bordo Blanco?” said the young man. “We can’t just call a cab.”

“We’ll steal a car,” Atl said.

Ana closed her eyes. She heard them walk away. When the house was quiet she stood up, holding on to the wall for good measure. Blood was leaking from one of her ears. She thought it was busted. She took a deep breath.

There came footsteps again. Different ones.

Nick stopped in front of her. “We got cut off back there. Where’s the girl?”

She tried to swat his hand away, but he had already cut his wrist again and was pressing it against her mouth. The blood rushed through her veins, the pain was dulled, and she could hear him inside her once more, scratching, scratching, scratching until she had to speak.

“They escaped. Both vampires are still alive. He’s injured. She sustained some UV damage. There’s a young human man with them and they said something about a dog.”

“So much for your plan, Rodrigo,” Nick said, sneering. “Do you know where they’re going?”

“They’re heading to Bordo Blanco,” Ana muttered.

“Where’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a landfill,” said Rodrigo.

Ana looked down at Kika’s corpse, her blood staining the floor. Kika. Who’d thought this was exciting, who was so eager.





CHAPTER

37

They ran for five blocks before a car came rolling down the street. Atl jumped onto its hood and the driver pressed hard on the brakes. She quickly jumped down, opened the door, pulled the driver out, tossing him onto the ground and taking the driver’s place.

Bernardino took the front seat, while Domingo sat in the back with the dog.

“You tell me where to go,” Atl said, taking off the backpack and tossing it to Domingo.

*

Bordo Blanco was a great valley of darkness. No streets here, no lampposts, just a vast swath of gray and black interrupted only by the faint light emanating from the shacks of the trash pickers who lived there, rummaging through the mountains of garbage and selecting items suitable for recycling. Broken computers, diapers, soda cans, plastic bags, orange peels, the corpses of dead dogs, they formed hills of different sizes, some tiny and others monumental. One day, maybe, they’d turn this landfill into a luxury suburb like Santa Fe, “American-style,” and everyone would be kicked out and everything would change. It was hard to imagine such a thing now. A foul smell permeated the land, and flies, terrifying in their size, buzzed around during the day. Also during the day came the trucks, and there was the rumble of the tractors with their great rubber wheels, maneuvering through the garbage, squashing it.

At night, there was only the full moon leaning down, caressing the bitter earth. The people who made their home there, out of the same garbage they collected, were asleep or preparing for bed. Bordo Blanco was quiet, eerie, and Domingo wished he could listen to his music, he was so nervous.