Certain Dark Things(89)

“Come,” Domingo said.

He led them into the landfill, through what amounted to a semidecent path, but they had barely walked more than a few meters when a shot rang in the dark. The bullet hit Bernardino and he grunted, pausing in his steps. Laughter, behind them.

“Shit,” whispered Atl.

“Come on, hurry. Over there,” said Domingo, pointing at the separation plant, a vast shed where workers could sift through the garbage. It had been a gift from a charitable foundation, supposed to ease the life of the garbage collectors, though Domingo could see no rhyme or reason for it. Perhaps it was nicer to go through the garbage under a shed during the rainy season, but it was faster to simply drag the big collection bags through the landfill. He’d heard that they had a real separation plant at another landfill, one that had a conveyor belt fed by the hands of hundreds of garbage workers, but Bordo Blanco was smaller, more modest in its intent.

At least now it had a practical use: they could shield themselves, because Domingo doubted they’d last very long out in the open with people shooting at them.

As they approached the shed Domingo saw the shacks that were set near it, tiny abodes of cardboard and tin.

“We need to go into the shed,” he told Atl, pointing at it.

“You go,” she said.

“What?”

“Go and hide,” she told him. “Take the dog with you. Bernardino and I can fight them. You can’t.”

Domingo glanced at Bernardino, who was moving swiftly for a man who had been shot twice. The older vampire nodded at him.

“Better get in there,” Bernardino told him, and when Domingo did not move he added, “I can’t protect two people at the same time.”

He didn’t want to leave their side, but recognized the wisdom of the suggestion. Domingo rushed past the shacks and into the gloom of the shed, Cualli right behind him. He veered away from a collection of rusty shopping carts, entangled together. He almost stumbled into a large container full of plastic dolls that had their faces sliced off, limbs and torsos missing. More containers, with similar bounties, were arranged against the walls. He crouched behind one of them. The dog hid next to him.

He heard gunfire outside.

Domingo clutched the knife Atl had given him in his sweaty hands. He was trembling and doubted very much he’d be able to use it, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Hey, I know you’re in here!” yelled someone.

Domingo did not move. He could hear someone walking into the shed. A flashlight bounced around the walls. He pressed himself closer to the wall.

The flashlight passed by and he sighed with relief.

… And then the flashlight returned, aimed straight at his face.

“I see you, kid. Stand up slowly,” said a voice.

Domingo did as he was told, but as he rose the dog growled and jumped onto the man. The man let out a loud scream and tried to pry the dog off his leg. He was a huge meaty guy, towering above Domingo, but he seemed unable to deal with the dog, which was firmly biting into his flesh. The man pulled out a gun.

The dog.

Domingo did not think. He simply pressed forward, plunging the knife into the man’s back with all his strength. The man didn’t collapse, he didn’t even seem to be badly hurt, he just spun around, gun in hand. The dog jumped up and bit his hand. The man screamed again, stepped back, lost his footing, and fell heavily. The dog now went for his throat, tearing it with powerful jaws.

The man gurgled, unable to yell a third time.

Domingo stood there, staring at the spectacle, watching as the man twitched, then went suddenly still. The dog kept biting him and he could hear it chewing.

“Cualli, enough,” he said.

The dog stopped and withdrew from the dead man. Domingo knelt down, looking at the man’s face. He didn’t panic, but there was a knot inside him, weighing him down. Domingo closed his eyes but it didn’t help, so he snapped them open again.

He swallowed and rolled the corpse over. Domingo pulled out the knife and slipped it back in his pocket. A sudden wave of disgust hit him. He thought about the old man in La Merced and his dolls, which he kept to ward off the ghosts of the people he’d killed. But there was no time for disgust or stupid thoughts. No time now.

He looked again at the corpse at his feet and Cualli raised his head and growled.

A bullet hit the dog. Cualli whimpered and moved away.

Domingo hardly had a chance to take a breath before he felt the barrel of a gun nestled against his back.

“Tell your dog to stay. You’re needed outside,” said a woman. “Let’s go.”





CHAPTER

38

Nick ripped the bandage from his cheek, irritated by the way it itched, and scratched the new skin as he walked around the shacks. Scared humans peered through makeshift doors and windows, and hid quickly as he passed by.

He saw a figure running with a dog. Atl’s human friend. No one was getting out of this place, not the dog and not that boy and not Atl.

“Get him back here. Alive,” he told La Bola, and La Bola nodded, running clumsily toward a shed. He looked at Ana. “Go with him.”

He had never trusted the efficacy of Rodrigo’s friends, and he wasn’t going to start now. Ana was only a meat puppet, but she was his meat puppet, under his control.

“All four of you, I want that girl alive, too,” he told the others.