Green Ice: A Deadly High (30 page)

Mancini decided to dump the
dead girl’s body at the nearest pull over. The battered truck was conspicuous enough without a mutilated corpse in the rear compartment. Mancini wondered if any of the rear lights still worked or if they had all been smashed when he’d broken through the garage door. He’d ditch the truck as soon as a better vehicle presented itself and hoped it would be before the damn gas ran dry.

His gaze alternated between three positions as he drove away from the town of
Chorro de Arena.
Mancini kept his eye on the road ahead, the fuel gauge and the road behind via his rear view mirror. The last thing he needed was to stop and dump the girl’s body and be surrounded by the chasing pack of infected.

“Come on, you guys,” Trey groaned. “We’re wasting valuable time here.” His gaze alternated between Jorge and Sonny, aiming their respective firearms at each other. “Those infected goons could be on their way here, right now.” He was also worried about the cause of the explosion they’d recently witnessed. Was it the military or the police authorities finally attempting to end the aggressive outbreak? 

“What was this talk of money?” Sonny barked
at Jorge. “I heard you and him talking about money on the phone.”

Jorge flashed Trey a concerned glance.
“Nothing to concern you. If you have any sense, you’ll get yourself out of Mexico, while you still can.”

“Is that right?” Sonny said, nodding.

Mancini saw a couple of vehicles stopped on the shoulder up ahead. He slowed the pickup truck when he recognized the rear end of the Thunderbird and the VW Beetle. Jorge stood at the side of the VW
, aiming his firearm in the direction of another guy standing between the two vehicles. Leticia sat in the backseat of the Thunderbird and Trey stood a few yards from the side of the Beetle. Mancini quickly surmised that Jorge was holding them all at gunpoint and demanding repossession of the money.

Jorge heard a vehicle approaching and glanced further down the highway. He considered lowering his firearm but saw the oncoming vehicle was only a beaten up old pickup truck. Probably some guy trying to flee the outbreak by whatever means possible. Sonny heard the truck too. He couldn’t look behind him but gambled on Jorge’s reaction. If it was the cops, Jorge would probably lower his weapon. The handgun remained pointed at him, so Sonny didn’t alter his own stance.

Trey
put his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. He heard a vehicle approach and wondered how it would affect their circumstances. Neither men lowered their firearms and Trey knew the situation was going to continue in a stale mate.

The wooden fence pole wasn’t much of a defense against a loaded gun but it was the only weapon Mancini had in his possession. He wasn’t going to take Jorge on with only a wooden stake but he did have the element of surprise on his side. As he drew level with the vehicles, Mancini noticed the guy standing in front of the Thunderbird also brandished a firearm. He recognized the surly man as the one who had fired on him outside the garage, back in the town. The strange guy and Jorge were involved in some kind of standoff and too busy glaring at each other to notice Mancini in the truck’s cab.

Trey
watched the truck slowly draw alongside their position and nearly called out when he recognized Mancini in the driver’s seat. Surely, he’d have some plan up his sleeve now he’d witnessed what was going on at the roadside.

Mancini wasn’t sure what the hell was going on but he knew he had to get Jorge back under his supervision. He’d worry about the other guy and his motives after he’d resolved the current situation.

When the pickup truck was level with the VW, Mancini sharply turned the steering wheel
and put his foot on the gas, heading towards Jorge’s car. He braced himself for the crunching impact of metal against metal.

Jorge heard the pickup truck’s engine roar as its speed increased and turned his head slightly. He saw the truck hurtling towards him, with the VW Beetle between them.

For a split second, Mancini saw the panic on Jorge’s face, before the pickup truck slammed into the side of the VW and sent the vehicle reeling onto the sand bank verge at the edge of the shoulder. Jorge scurried out of the way of the collision but lost his footing and fell face first into the dirt, the handgun spilling from his grasp.

A wave of sand billowed up into the air after the collision, masking all three vehicles for a few seconds.

Mancini knew he had to get out of the cab and find himself some cover. He grabbed the fence pole and quickly got out of the pickup truck. 

Sonny spluttered in the dust cloud but couldn’t see anybody amongst the swirling
sand. Who was the crazy bastard in the truck, who’d just crashed into the VW?

Jorge couldn’t see anything. He coughed out a combination of phlegm and dust from his throat and patted around in the sand beside him, trying to relocate the firearm.

Leticia knew she had to move under the brief cover of the dust cloud. She didn’t relish the outcome of the standoff, whoever was victorious. She crawled out of the backseat and over the Thunderbird’s trunk, feeling her way. Sliding down the rear of the car, she crawled between the two back wheels and took sanctuary in the shadows beneath the Thunderbird.

Trey crouched down, waiting for the dust to settle and to see who he’d be faced with tackling first.

Chapter Forty-Four

Mancini waited beside the rear wheel of the pickup truck. He resisted the urge to cough out the dust in his throat and up his nose. The sand began to settle or was gusted away in the wind. Somebody staggered forward towards the truck, coughing and retching. Mancini gripped the wooden pole at the ready. The figure stumbled closer through the diminishing dust cloud with the recognizable outline of a handgun held in his right hand.

Mancini watched the figure reach the Dodge’s open driver’s door and lean inside the truck cab. He recognized the figure as the guy who stood in front of the Thunderbird, aiming a handgun at Jorge.
Mancini didn’t know who the guy was or why he was brandishing a firearm but wasn’t in the mood to ask questions first. He crept along the side of the truck to within a few feet of the armed man.

The dust totally cleared in the breeze
and Sonny sensed somebody behind him. He began to turn and felt something club his right wrist. Searing pain jolted up his right arm and he cried out in agony as the Beretta fell from his hand.

Mancini followed up his first swing of the wooden pole by aiming at the guy’s
head. He’d already managed to disarm the man but he wanted to immobilize him further. The wooden pole struck the man at an angle, across his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

Sonny felt the impact of something hard strike him on the head. His vision blurred and he felt himself sinking away from consciousness.

Mancini watched the man go over and land in the sand on his back. He tossed the pole into the truck bed then stood over the guy and checked his pulse. The man was still breathing and alive but rendered unconscious. Mancini frisked him down and found a Heckler and Koch, similar to his own inside the guy’s waistband and a cell phone he recognized as Trey’s. He picked up the guy’s other firearm and quickly studied it. The handgun was a Beretta M9, probably a U.S. military issue weapon. The guy didn’t look much like a military man, more like a gangster or gang member.

Jorge stumbled to his feet, still searching for the Heckler and Koch he’d dropped.

“Stay where you are, Jorge,” Trey ordered.

Jorge half turned and saw Trey crouching beside the sand bank, aiming the weapon at him. He groaned when he realized
Trey had scooped up his discarded firearm and he was now a prisoner once again.

Mancini edged around the truck with both his acquired handguns held out in front of him. He saw Jorge
and glanced beyond the cowering figure to see Trey covering him with the handgun.

“Howdy, Jorge,” he chirped.

Jorge groaned once more. “Mancini, I might have guessed. How the hell did you escape that infested town?”

“I always turn up like the bad penny, Jorge.”

“Good to see you alive and kicking, man,” Trey said.

Mancini nodded in acknowledgement
and tossed Trey his phone. “Who is the guy with all the shooters?” He nodded back to Sonny’s prone body.

“Did you put him out of action?” Trey asked.

Mancini nodded.

“I figure he’s some escaped con from the States someplace,” Trey said. “The guy’s got prison tattoos all over him and he seems on the desperate side
of life. He collared me and Leticia at gunpoint outside that garage back in the town.”

“That explains a lot,” Mancini muttered.

“He goes by the name of Sonny. At least, that’s what he told us. What happened to you, anyhow? Jorge told me you got munched by the infected goons, man.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Mancini said. “Jorge tried to cut me loose and nearly succeeded, I’ll give him that.”

Jorge sighed and his gaze dropped to the ground in front of him. He cut the impression of a beaten man.

“I think you still have something of mine, Jorge,” Mancini said. “Hand it over.”

Jorge sighed, pulled Mancini’s cell phone from his pocket and handed it back.  

Trey
looked back to the Thunderbird but he couldn’t see Leticia. He called her name several times and finally saw her crawl out from beneath the vehicle. She hurried over and crouched down beside Trey. He slid his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

“So what do we do now, man?” Trey asked.

Mancini dipped his head. “We carry on with the mission. We have to try and stop this green stuff getting distributed to any place else. Look what the hell it did to that small town back there.” He nodded into the distance along the road behind them. “Is that T-Bird back up and running okay?”

“Seems to be
okay,” Trey answered. “We’ve only driven a couple of miles but Sonny seemed to know what he was doing when he fixed it up.”

“Okay, we’ll carry on our journey in your ride, Trey, seeing as the other two vehicles are pretty much wrecked.”

Trey glanced over the clustered Dodge and the VW. “Hey, is that the pickup truck from the garage?”

Mancini nodded. “I just about got out of that place. I’ll tell you all about it once we’re back on the road.
Help me move Laughing Boy down there out of the way or we’ll run over him on our way out of here.” He nodded at Sonny on the ground.

“What about him?” Trey gestured at Jorge.

“Give the gun to Leticia and she can cover him.”

Trey handed over the Heckler and Koch to Leticia, who looked suddenly nervous.

“What do I do if he tries to run?” she asked.

“Shoot him,” Mancini snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for messing around
any further.

Trey helped Mancini lift Sonny’s unconscious body and they walked him to the truck cab. They shoved him across the front seats and closed the driver’s door.

“He’ll wake up with one hell of a headache,” Mancini said. “But at least he’ll still be alive. Come on, let’s hit the road.”

Mancini ushered them back to the Thunderbird and Trey took the handgun
back from Leticia. Jorge walked back to the Thunderbird with his shoulders sagging in defeat and a morose expression on his face. He’d been so close to escaping and would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for that asshole who’d pulled a gun on him.

“Want me to drive?” Trey asked
, as they drew alongside the T-Bird.

Jorge and Leticia clambered back into the rear seats.
Mancini reloaded both the Heckler and Koch handguns and hid the Beretta in the trunk. Maybe they’d need the extra firearm at a later stage in the operation.

Mancini nodded. “Go for it,” he said and climbed into the front passenger seat.

Trey fired up the engine and pulled back onto the highway. Mancini felt relieved to be back on track but wondered how much impact their prolonged stay in the town would affect the outcome of the mission.  

Chapter Forty-Five

Mancini retrieved the map from the glove box and tried to calculate how far they still had to go to reach La Paz.
He found
Chorro de Arena
on the map and groaned at the length of distance they still had to run.