The Chaos Order (Fanghunters Book Three) (24 page)

Dom squinted. “The sewers?”

“
Vamos, hombre.
Let’s go get him,” Rafa said, already with his foot on a rung of the ladder, the strap of his AK slung over his shoulder. He disappeared into the darkness.

“Oh crap,” Dom said, scanning that darkness.

“Come on,
amigo
!” Rafa shouted up to him.

A gunshot then rang out from down there and Dom ducked.

“Dom, where are you?” Rafa shouted up from the depths.

Dom groaned. He turned to face Trixie and Alicia. “Wait here!” he ordered before he placed a tentative leg into the trapdoor and onto a ladder rung. He descended into the darkness where a hot rancid stench hit his nostrils, making him gag. “Yeah, it’s the sewers all right,” he said to himself in disappointment. He went down for what seemed an age, before his feet touched slimy concrete. He turned to be faced with a long, grimy tunnel. Somewhere up ahead the squeak of rats echoed. Tied up against the walls were fluorescent bulbs, illuminating the tunnel. Víbora must have had this escape route planned for a while.

Something fat and hairy darted into a nook over to the left.

“Oh, man...” Dom groaned.

A blast, followed by a spark to the right of his head shocked him. He bent down low.

“He must have hid a gun down here,” Dom heard Rafa say. When he looked up, he saw him pressed up against the wall of a small nook he’d found.

“Hide!” Rafa ordered.

Dom looked around him with wide, frantic eyes. Up ahead was a similar nook on the opposite side. He dived into it, just as another shot rang out. He pressed himself up against the dirty concrete, that nauseous stench filling his nostrils.

Man, the things I do
,
he thought to himself with despair.

He turned his head to the side; Rafa spun into the tunnel and lit it up with bullets. He then whirled back into his protective nook just as bullets came back their way, albeit at a slower rate of fire.

Dom peeked around the corner. The tunnel led off into the distance where it branched off. And as it was daylight outside, Víbora would need to stay in the sewers at least until nighttime.

In the gloom, he made out Víbora running away into the distance. Rafa popped out of his crevice and chased after him. Dom followed up. The tunnel opened up into a larger tunnel that cut off to the right. A foul stench emanated from the new tunnel; filthy water ran along the center of it, rats populated it like a plague.

They stared up and down the slime-infested tunnel in disbelief and disgust. “The sewers,
hombre
,” Rafa said in a grim voice. “They connect to all the towns nearby. He must have a hideaway he’s heading for.”

Gunshots made them both duck; the wall above them sparked up.

“There!” Rafa said, pointing ahead and to the left. Dom caught a glimpse of Víbora vanishing into a tunnel branching off the one they were in. They both stormed toward it, that hot, rancid stench inescapable; it burned in Dom’s sinuses. Rats screeched in terror as they both stomped along the edge of the rotten water flowing through the center of the tunnel, Dom flanking one side, Rafa the other. Dom eyed that disgusting water like it was lava; he didn’t wanna touch it, fearful he’d never scrub the smell off of him.

They both darted into the tunnel Víbora had entered. It was another crap-infested passage, small grates in the ceiling offering pinpoints of light. Dom watched Víbora dancing around the shafts of light as he scampered away. Dom aimed his dart gun and took a pop shot. His dart vanished into the distance; from where he was he couldn’t tell if he’d tagged Víbora
.

Víbora then spun, and fired off some aimless shots as he ran backward, telling Dom he’d missed his target. Víbora’s shots hit the wall behind Rafa. Víbora whirled and ran. Rafa returned his gunfire with a burst from his AK. The tunnel lit up. Víbora was too far ahead to get a proper fix on him. They needed to pursue, not stop and fire. The tunnels were an intricate maze; they could easily lose him.

“We better stay on his tail,” Dom suggested.

Rafa nodded; they began running through the tunnels once more as Víbora twisted left and right, delving deeper into the sewer labyrinth.

“Where the hell’s he going?” Dom asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead as they ran along. “Does
he
even know?” he added, breaking through a small haze of hovering flies on his side of the tunnel. His lungs were starting to ache under the heat; Rafa was obviously more acclimatized to it. Dom sucked in big breaths of the rancid air to keep his performance up. He didn’t want to let Víbora get away; they needed Alicia and Rafa onside, and to fail in this mission would risk them having to find Magdalena alone. The realization made him grit his teeth and pump his arms and legs harder.

The moment they stepped into the new tunnel, they were greeted with gunshots. They both ducked out of instinct. The shooting then turned into dull clicks. Dom looked up; Víbora was staring at his gun in frustration. He was out of bullets. He threw the empty gun in anger toward them.

“Look out,
amigo
!” Rafa warned.

Dom eyed the pistol as it cut through the air. He dodged at the right moment and it sailed harmlessly over his head, splashing into the sewage somewhere behind him.

“We got him now!” Rafa declared, lifting up his AK to start shooting. Víbora vanished into another tunnel. “
Puta!
” Rafa sneered as he yet again made his escape. He was as slippery like an oil slick.

Dom growled in anger as they both set off once more. They tailed him into the new tunnel and then a thought struck Dom: how would they find their way back? Every tunnel looked (and smelled) exactly the same.

Maybe they should’ve left a trail of breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel.

He groaned to himself. They’d have to worry about that later. Their priority was to catch this giant rat.

They chased him into yet another tunnel, hoping to corner him soon now that he had no weapon.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

V
íbora scampered down a new tunnel, his sense of direction completely lost. He never thought he’d actually have to use the escape hatch he’d had built and linked to the sewers. And if he ever did, he always thought he’d be outrunning Government officials, even the army, but not these assholes. Who were they anyway?
Gringos
? What did they want? Why were they in Mexico? Right then those questions didn’t matter. He had to make a clean escape; the problem was he’d taken some wrong turnings and become lost in the maze of tunnels. He knew he should’ve marked the way to the safe house and not left it to memory. The plan now was just to outrun them and hopefully lose them. Especially now that he didn’t have a gun.

These
putas
will pay for this,
he thought to himself as he made his way down another shit-infested tunnel. Once he was out of this, the Inner Circle would have to hear of this outrage and act accordingly. Don Vasquez had to fulfill his duty of protecting him, just like he had to for all the cartel bosses in Mexico. They couldn’t be threatened in this way; it was bad for business. They were supposed to be in control now; the Chaos Order had finally moved from the shadows and become the new rulers of Latin America, pushing back officialdom. They were the new kings, guided by the Unholy Mother. They shouldn’t have their homes invaded by scum like this.

As his feet splashed through brown water, he suddenly remembered that other
gringo
Chichi brought before him; el Sanguinario. A horrible realization hit him: maybe that
gringo
was the cause of all this. Maybe not directly, but because he was a bad omen. Maybe his arrival wasn’t to fulfill the prophecy of pushing the Chaos Order to global victory. Maybe the prophecy had been interpreted wrong. The
gringo
was really here to bring a bigger army of
gringos
to destroy them; the
gringo
in the red flowery shirt was indeed el Sanguinario, but his real purpose was to act as the opposing force to the Unholy Mother.
He
was the one who’d bring them down, destroy them from within.

Víbora shook his head. That stupid old monk, Papa Esqueleto, had got it all wrong; the idiot had brought the Angel of Death to their doors and invited her into their business, told her to make herself welcome. Víbora hated to think what kind of destruction that
gringo
was bringing them at that very moment.

Ach
, it wasn’t time to think about things like that. At this moment he just had to lose the two assholes behind him, then get to the safe house and wait there until darkness. Then, strike back. Hard.

He splashed through more sewage and into a new tunnel where four or five others branched off. He scanned them, unaware of where any of them would lead him. He picked one and jumped into its mouth.

“Stop!” the bigger of the two assholes shouted from behind.

Víbora had a brief look over his shoulder; the big asshole was aiming his gun.

Víbora turned back and ran hard, avoiding the shafts of light falling from the grating in the ceiling like they were booby traps. In doing so, he slipped, his hands falling in the mucky water. But it wasn’t the shit now on his robe that bothered him, it was the advantage he’d lost from stumbling. By the time he got upright again, the two
pendejos
were rounding the corner.

Víbora had no other choice; he had to make a sharp turn into the nearest tunnel otherwise they’d get clear shots at him. Just as he cut into the new tunnel, gunfire erupted. Panic fizzed through his mind. He spun his head back, his eyes fixed on the wall the bullets hit. He watched the ensuing cloud dust dissipate, realizing it could easily have been his head there. The knock would have thrown him off his stride, giving them enough time to catch him.

Just get away from them,
he urged himself.

Now, in the new tunnel, he turned back to see where he was heading.

His eyes bulged; he gasped in horror.

Harsh light filled the end of the tunnel like spilled paint. Víbora came to a screeching halt; he stared at that nasty sunlight in terror.

Puta!

He’d taken a wrong turning; the tunnel led out into the open where the sewage water joined a small stream. If he went further, he’d be burned to a crisp by the intense Mexican sun.

His eyeballs whirled, seeking an exit. The only way out of the tunnel was forward. And that way led to his death.

A sound made him spin back. The two assholes were now in the tunnel with him. It was a choice; face them or the light.

They both came to a stop. The bigger
puto
laid eyes on the light. A grin spread across his face.

The smaller asshole took a moment to catch his breath. He then pointed at Víbora. “Give it up, Snakeface!” he said. “We got you cornered.”

V
íbora turned from the light to face them. His bulging eyes gleamed with terror. Dom nodded; it was either go into the fire, or battle past the two guys ahead of him. Víbora took a peek over his shoulder at the sunlight spread all over the end of the tunnel. He whipped back around, a malevolent snarl now carved into his face. Without hesitation, he roared toward them like a wild animal, his feet splashing through the shit-water, his robe flowing behind him like a giant wing.

Dom reacted; he snapped up his dart gun and went to pull the trigger. But, Rafa got there first; he let rip on Víbora with his AK-47, pummeling him with bullets. The force stopped Víbora dead in his tracks, neutering his lunge. He flailed back, his body juddering under the impact as it soaked up the bullets like it was made of clay.

Rafa wasn’t deterred; he advanced on Víbora, his trigger finger pulsing, the muzzle of his AK spitting bullets like it was a hose. Dom watched in stunned bemusement as the bullets appeared to vanish inside Víbora’s chest and stomach like they were chocolate chips pushed into cookie dough; it was a surreal spectacle, like nothing real. The bastard wasn’t dying, but the impact was forcing him to stagger back toward the end of the tunnel.