Vice(70)

I leave, running down the hallway, back toward the party. When I open the door, slipping back into the foyer, I’m calm and composed. There’s blood on the cuff of my shirt, though no one will notice. Not with so many groups of people now writhing and grinding on top of each other. I keep my head down as I cross the room. I can hear Fernando talking somewhere loudly behind me, but I don’t turn to find him. I move quickly and efficiently, taking the exit closest to the Bedouin tent room, where Plato is now balls deep inside the woman laid out on the floor. He watches me as I fast walk by the doorway, and then he is gone.

Fernando’s office is easy to find. I’ve sat in there enough times to know how to get there with ease. Surprise, surprise, when I try the handle, the door is locked. There’s a camera above the door, but I’m beyond caring about being seen at this point. I raise my leg and smash my foot into the wood, just below the lock, and the doorframe shatters, sending splinters of wood everywhere.

Inside the office, my goal is mounted to the wall above Fernando’s desk: a small, innocuous looking button, black with a small white circle on it. How many times has Fernando hit that thing in his rage? How many times has he hit it out of sheer boredom? Too many f*cking times. I cross the room, my heart hammering away in my chest like a pneumatic drill, and I slam my palm down on the button.

For one terrible second I expect nothing to happen, but then a wall of sound blasts through the house, deafening, rattling the windowpanes in their frames. I’ve only heard the alarm once, when I was out in the forest with Natalia, and it was ear-splittingly loud then. Now, it feels as though the sound is alive, shaking the house with its bare hands, determined to raze it to the motherf*cking ground.

This is not a practical alarm. It’s designed to strike the fear of god into the inhabitants of the house, Fernando’s Servicio, to warn them of what will happen if they step out of line. I’d say that it probably works.

I pick up a heavy cut glass ashtray sitting on the edge of Fernando’s desk, and I use it to smash the button off the wall. I have no idea if you disable the alarm by hitting the button again, but better safe than sorry.

Then, I’m running.

I don’t go back the way I’ve come. That way leads to too many people, and also to Harrison and his men. I race in the opposite direction, running as fast as I can until I reach the side entrance with the keypad Natalia led me to when we came down the mountain the other day. Thankfully I don’t need a key code to get out. The door smashes into the wall as I rip it open, and the heavy steel vibrates, making a jarring, warped, popping sound. Behind me, I hear screaming.

Outside, the night air is cool and smells of smoke. I don’t know what’s burning, but the air is thick with the acrid twist of something on fire. I carry on running, skirting the perimeter of the house until I reach the patio, where Fernando’s precious lawn begins. Hoards of people have spilled out of the house and are rushing about on the grass, mostly naked, trying to find their clothes or each other. Harrison is out there, too, squinting into the dark, presumably trying to figure out what the f*ck is going on.

I stay hidden in the shadows. I need to find Fernando. If Harrison sees me now, he’s gonna be right on top of me, f*cking up my plans. Side stepping, I duck low, holding my breath, waiting.

A sound slices through the night air, sending a ripple of panic through the crowd on the front lawn—a single solitary howl. A number of people begin to rally, holding each other’s hands, dashing back toward the house, as if they’re running for cover—the Servicio. They may be out of their minds on black tar heroin, but they’re conscious enough to recognize the low, blasting bass of the wolves’ alarm sounding from multiple speakers mounted onto the outside of the house, and they’re not sticking around to wait for the monsters to arrive.

Everyone is scattered, clueless, running into each other in their haste to escape the unknown threat.

Fernando’s in front of the house, then, head shaking from side to side as he tries to comprehend what’s happening. He looks furious, his brow pinched as he takes in the madness. “Please, everybody, be calm. We will have this under control shortly. Head back inside.”

Aside from the Servicio, who know better, no one else looks like they plan on heading back inside. It goes against their nature. They’ve been trained for as long as they can remember that an alarm as shocking and aggressive as this means evacuation. The smoke, wherever it’s coming from, isn’t helping matters as far as their panic levels are concerned. I’m sure they must think the house is on fire or something, which isn’t going to persuade them back indoors any time soon.

I need to separate Fernando from Harrison and his men. I need to somehow get him on his own. I’ve been patient thus far, so I’m just going to have to be wait a little longer. In the forefront of my mind, as I’m crouched down in the dark, I’m freaking the f*ck out. Where is Natalia? I don’t see her outside anywhere. Would Fernando have left her on her own? If he had, would he have left her with someone surely? She’s a capable woman, but I can’t help myself. I’m worried about her.

The wolves howl again, and this time there are many voices joining the song. They are on their way. I shiver a little as I picture what’s about to go down—the violence and the bloodshed that will be unavoidable once the animals arrive.

I don’t feel bad. I’ve been pushed too far here, in this f*cking evil place. I won’t help Fernando’s guests as they’re mauled to death. I will step over the shredded remains of their bodies as I walk away. Not a scrap of guilt will plague me as I go.