Drugs and Money [Chai & DeRe]

[Chai]

drugs & money

Chai & DeRe
​

Don't stop. Keep going. Don't stop.

Sofia repeatedly muttered the mantra to herself, even as her legs cried out for rest and her nostrils stung from the dry air and dust. Her calf muscles burned with a dull ache; she'd been walking since morning from town to town. It was nearing sunset now, and her last stop was on the horizon line far ahead. Hazy building shapes prompted her to move forward, the promise of rest too great for her to stop now. Distantly, she wondered where she had gone wrong, or what she had done to deserve this. A year ago, she had been a money changer outside a sleazy club in Culiacán, and now she was a girl on the run from one of the most dangerous cartels in North America. The same cartel who had murdered Leo.

Leo...

Memories of him suddenly came unbidden, stirring a flurry of emotion. She didn't know he worked for the cartel when he'd arrived at the club. He looked American at first, but there was no mistaking the perfect Spanish when he spoke to her. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here?" He'd asked, that damned sexy grin looking even more delicious in the low city lights. That first dance turned into one night, that night into a whole summer, and by the end of it, he'd asked her to move into his gorgeous city townhouse. Of course, by that point she'd known who he was and what he did, but she loved him...

The last memory she had of him was his lifeless body slumped over on a couch, the cushions and fabric stained a deep red with his blood. She'd come home early from a friend's daughter's quinceañera only to have her life shattered. Sofia screamed like hell, and that's when she's heard the thumps upstairs. By the time she'd gotten back into her car and sped away, she'd seen their faces in her rear view mirror: Guero and Gato, two hit men that she'd met several times on occasion. And she knew they'd seen her car, too. She'd driven through the night to get to the string of small desert towns near the border of Mexico and Texas, finally ditching the SUV on the fringe of the desert, taking a small bag of provisions and dousing it in gasoline before destroying it.

All of which brought her to this moment.

She reached her destination at last; it was only a little pop of life amidst the tanned desert ground, but right now it was paradise. The one-street town only had a few amenities, but there was a convenience store for food, and the little motel of maybe 20 rooms was the perfect place to sleep and catch her breath before setting out again the following morning.

"Hi," Sofia greeted the woman at the cramped office of the motel, managing a small smile despite her dusty appearance, "Could I have a room for the night?"

"300 pesos."

"Thank you." Sofia handed her the money, only noticing now that the woman was staring at her intently, studying her face before handing her key.

"Room 18."

She took the key and walked around the building to a vending machine, searching her pockets for some spare change. The sky had fallen into night, and for the first time in days she felt the weight of her exhaustion catching up to her. While she had maintained a fit lifestyle, her body had been in no way prepared to make the miles long trek on foot. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel any bitterness toward the life she was thrown into, and the situation she was put it. But then, she also chose this, didn't she? She knew the risks of getting involved with the cartel. And like so many before her, she'd only had the foresight to think, 'not me, it wouldn't happen to me'.

A bottle of cold water tumbled down, and simultaneously, a sharp sting of a needle in her arm. Panic flooded her system, and she whipped her head around to the see the the dark shadow of three figures before she felt the rush of meeting the ground and her vision go black.

* * * * * *
​

"... This puta right here."

Sofia heard a man chuckle as she came to, her groggy mind taking in the sound of crunching gravel underneath his boots. In the distance, she could hear the gentle cacophany of traffic. A city? She was slung over his shoulder, blindfolded and her hands bound with cable ties and rope, and her long wavy hair bouncing along with each step he took. One of his hands was at her ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh over her denim jeans. Pig.

"Hurry, before she wakes," another man said, and she heard the jingle of keys against a lock before a heavy door opened and subsequently slammed shut behind them. "Put her there."

Sofia grunted as she was dropped onto the ground, her knees buckling as legs were barely able to support her weight. "Cabron," she muttered dryly, finally finding enough strength to make her mouth work even as she slumped the the ground.

"Tough talk for a dead girl," one of the men said. She didn't know which. She didn't care. "I'd watch that little whore mouth of yours, or one of us might do it for you."

 

[DeRe]

Sand and stone crackled under the wheels of the sedan as it rolled to a halt. The soft desert night was silent except for the ticking of the engine and distant sounds of unseen wildlife. For a few moments everything seemed to hang in an expectant stillness, before one of the car’s two occupants suddenly spoke, his gruff snarl like gunshots in the void. It was the ever-acidic Gato complaining – as he had done on the whole drive – about being assigned such a trivial task by the boss.

“We’re just garbagemen! Fucking bagboys. Doing a trash run when we should be on more important stuff”. He drummed his fingers with irritation on the wheel while peering out into the night. “Any kid could do this shit. We need to be back at the hacienda, being seen, being in line for the money-making!”

His more phlegmatic comrade, Guevo, had long since run out of patience with Gato’s annoyance, but his flinty exterior would never reveal it. “We’re doing this because he trusts us,” the rust-haired thug said as he climbed out of the car. “Because he knows we’re professionals who won’t leave loose ends. You should be proud to get this kind of assignment.”

The grim duo remained largely silent again, until they drew their unwilling cargo from the trunk. While Guevo kept an attentive watch on the surroundings, Gato carried the girl to the front of the car. “Guess it isn’t all bad,” he mumbled to himself, as his eager hands took the chance to grope the young woman’s firm figure. Her well-rounded jean-clad ass seemed to respond with an youthful elasticity as he mauled it.

Gato dumped her roughly on her knees, a few feet ahead of the car in the glare of the headlights. Both men took a moment to appreciate the sight for a moment. There was no denying the young woman was beautiful, in a particularly feral and wild way. Her thick black hair seemed to glow in the night, framing a pair of dark gypsy eyes that blazed with fear and hatred. Short, desperate breaths had her ample chest and taunt stomach heaving, with an impeccably curved figure showing through clearly in tight t-shirt and jeans

“Nothing personal, puta,” sighed Guevo as he loaded his pistol and pointed at Sofia. “You just fucked the wrong guy, so here we are.” Thumbing back the hammer he added in a matter-of-fact tone: “Now be a good girl and say your prayers quick, ‘cause a whore like you got nothing to look forward to where you’re going.”

He suddenly noticed Gato was not also aiming his gun at Sofia. “The fuck you doing? Don’t keep the bitch waiting!”

When Guevo saw Gato raise that insolent eyebrow like he had done so many times before, he realized it was going to be a long night. “Hombre, this is a serious fucking waste,” he drawled, gesturing at the girl. “Look at her! That’s some quality pussy, right there. And we’re just gonna put two in that pretty face and leave her for the coyotes? How ‘bout we have some fun first?”

With a grimace Guevo lowered his gun and turned to his friend. “Fuck’s sake, ten minutes ago you wanted to get home to go flaunt for the boss, now you want to spend the night making sweet love under the stars while I twiddle my thumbs or some shit? Don’t you have the basic fucking courtesy to put her out of her misery swiftly, at least?”

Gato’s grin grew wickedly, suggesting the creature he drew his nickname from. “Why not stretch it out? Been a while since I really went to town on a bitch. There’s a fire ant nest back a bit there, how bout we cut out her tongue and bury her in it? Take her days to fuckin’ die, she’d go insane before they were finished.” He turned to meet the girl’s horrified gaze, his cold coal-like eyes piercing into her soft chocolate ones. “Oh yeah puta, you’ll be begging for a bullet when I’ve finished with you, gonna curse the cheap whore of a mother that birthed your fine ass.”

“Wait,” said Guevo, with irritation. “We don’t have time for this-“

Gato pulled out a battered coin he kept in a trouser pocket. It the first thing he had even stolen and ever since served as his good-luck token. “Let’s flip man, come on,” he said in voice thick with excitement. “If it’s heads, we cap the cunt and go home, I won’t say shit, I swear it by Santa Muerte. But if it’s tails”- he turned back to look at the kneeling Sofia –“then I get to have my fun with her for an hour. You can even join in too. Okay?”

Realizing from experience there was no other way out of this, Guevo frowned sourly and gave a curt nod. With a showman’s skill Gato flipped the coin, and slapped it down on his wrist. Keeping it covered he sneaked a peek, then grinned toothily at Sofia. Showing the coin to Gato he crowed: “Tails! She’s all mine for the next hour!” He whooped with delight like an exulant schoolboy.

Rolling his icy blue eyes in frustration, Guevo then seized Sofia roughly by her hair, pulling her unsteadily onto her bare feet. He shoved her forward roughly, so he was thrown face-first onto the hood of the sedan. Moving swifly, Gato then stepped in and drew a long blade from his boot, with which he cut away her belt and pulled her jeans down in several hard tugs.

Guevo stepped back, lighting a cigarette and staring off into the dark, hoping not to reveal his immense irritation. Gato chortled with pleasure at the sight of Sofia’s uncovered ass, and the lemon-coloured thong tucked between it. He tore the strip of cloth away with one hand while keeping her head pinned down with the other.

“Doing you a favour, puta,” he snarled as he began to undo his pants. “You gonna get the best fuck of your life before you die, courtesy of me. You'll thank me 'fore we finished! Now spread those legs."

 

[Chai]

There were so many stories of near-death experiences that it was hard to tell how much of it was real.

A memory from Sofia's childhood flashed in her mind; she remembered her grandmother telling her stories of Jesus Christ clad in blinding white, telling her it wasn't time yet for her death. "There he was, mija," her grandmother had said, "He came to me in the hospital. And he said to me, 'Guadalupe, now is not your time. Do not pray pray for things that shouldn't come to pass.' You see, I had been at the church daily praying for God to lay me at rest with my husband. And when the heart attack came, I was sure it was my time. But he said no! The Lord works in mysterious ways, Sofia, remember that. Now where is your rosary, it's time for bedtime prayers..."

Sofia was pulled back to the present by a smart sting across her butt, Gato laughing gleefully behind her, and then the sudden intrusion of himself inside her. Pain. It was sharp as he entered, and even through the drugged state of her mind, she was lucid enough for her mind to protest.

STOP, she heard her voice in her own head, screaming. STOP.

But no words came out. Instead she heard her own labored breathing, deeper and heavier as Gato dug his fingers into her flesh. One hand clawed at her ass, scratching the sensitive skin, and the other gripped in front of her face, squeezing her cheeks together so hard that she was sure he was going to leave a bruise. And that thought was only confirmed when she tasted her own blood, her teeth cutting against the inside of her cheeks.

"You like that, you little bitch?" Gato tightened his grip on her face, shaking her head. "I'm gonna be honest, I've wanted to fuck this little hole since I saw you with Leo that first day, huh? I almost regret killing him. He should have been able to see his girl get fucked like the fucking tease she is." He smacked her ass, hard, 5 times in succession, each time a little harder than the last.

Sofia only lay limply on the hood of the car. She would not cry. She wouldn't.

But the tears came anyway, blurring her eyes even as Gato's hand made it hard for her to breathe. It was so shallow now, and silently she prayed for it to end. Her grandmother had been wrong. There was no Jesus to save her, only the impending darkness of her death.

That was, until a bright light did appear on the edge of her vision, growing stronger until it seemed to shine directly in the her face. She heard the soft roar of another car engine above the ringing in her ears, and suddenly Gato cursed, taking his hands off her and pulling out. Sofia heard him fumbling with his pants, muttering something under his breath that she couldn't hear. She squinted against the light, seeing the vague outline of a few men who exited the other vehicle.

"Well, well," one of the men said, a handgun pointed toward Gato with his finger on the trigger. "What are a couple of pendejos from the Jiminez cartel doing across the lines? You of all people should know better, Gato. Acclaimed as you are." His eyes flicked down toward the half naked woman in the hood of Gato's car as noticing her for the first time. "Letting your guard down really isn't your style, is it? Who is she?"

Gato had his hands up, a cautious look on his face. "Look, man, we're not looking for trouble, are we, Guevo? We just want to take the bitch and go. Just some bitch. Isn't that right Guevo?"

"You're taking 'just some bitch' from our turf?" The nameless man asked in return, sounding almost amused even though his eyes glinted dangerously. "You're really looking to start trouble, aren't you?"

 

[DeRe]

The first time Gato had raped a woman he was barely even a man. Since then it had become almost a hobby to him, or perhaps an art form. Certainly he never missed the opportunity to indulge and violated every victim as vigourously as he could. Even among his depraved peers it had become notable, something that drew a mingled response of amusement and scorn from them. Of course it wasn’t the cruelty of the act that drew their attention, but rather the enthusiasm, which seemed childish or unprofessional to most.

He had certainly been savouring the idea of having Sofia for some time. She’d made quite an impression on the late Leo’s fellow gang members, even the most jaded of whom had been impressed with her raw sexuality. They always competed to have the most appealing arm candy, but Sofia’s face and figure had certainly been superior to the girls they usually swept up from the clubs. Something of this jealousy had played a role in her erstwhile lovers’ downfall; while his faults were purely professional, the fact he was fucking a smoky-eyed well-rounded Venus definitely helped ease the trigger fingers.

Now Gato was pounding her as painfully as he could, striving to compound her degradation. He wanted – he needed – her to know there were worst things than dying before he put the bullet in her pretty face. If he couldn’t be afforded the indulgence of a leisurely torture session, then at least he would violate her mentally and physically, and destroy her soul before her body. So Gato slapped, twisted and clawed at her with every thrust, ensuring it would hurt as much as possible.

If he had been spared a few moments to think about it, maybe Gato would have realized how convenient this whole set-up was. He had been sent out to a lonely location with a woman, the unspoken outcome being obivious to all, almost as if it were a perfectly-baited trap. Moreover Guevo had no special regard for him – in fact he had been partnered with the one guy he never seemed to get along with. Perhaps if Gato had possessed more of his namesake’s cunning, he would not have blundered into such a supicisious rendezvous, to be caught with his pants literally around his ankles.

The two new arrivals were the brothers Lanegro – the brutish Carlos and his more urbane younger sibling Damien. Impeccably attired in plain black suits, this sinister duo were local lieutenants for Los Zetas, the cartel which claimed Texas as a playground. Gato and Guevo belonged to the Gulf gangs and consequently were rivals. Upon American soil both groups tried to avoid extensive bloodshed, preferring to deal more discreetly to avoid official attention. But the threat of sudden savage violence hung over every meeting, and on this occasion the cold night air stunk of it.

For his part Guevo could not understand why Los Zetas, and in particular the man they called Angel, would be so interested in some random whore. He could have his pick of the finest blond blue-eyed gringa putas yet for some reason he was taking a risk to claim this half-breed. Certainly when Guevo had gotten the call earlier that evening, his curiosity had overwhelmed his concern. For some time now he had been Angel’s inside man in this branch of the Gulf Cartel, making excellent money by covertly sabotaging his supposed boss while appearing to be his most devoted servant. That curiosity compounded when they arranged to have the girl ‘rescued’ – or at least spared an immediate execution. The ever-sensible Guevo could only assume that the notoriously cold Angel affected some kind of feelings for the dusky bitch, an idea that struck him as utterly preposterous.

It amused Guevo to see Gato so embarrassed and clueless; while he never really detested the man, he had no fondness for those that flaunted their sadism. The redheaded gunman much preferred his atrocities to remain discreet. So erasing the ‘Cat’ from this earth was certainly no grief to him.

Above all, Santa Muerte needed a sacrifice. The desert was thirsty and only a decent bloodletting would sate it. That was the only force in the universe that Guevo truly feared, and he had no problem crossing his current employer if it meant furthering his interests in the world beyond. While Gato was distracted by the brothers, Guevo swiftly and silently stepped up behind his nominal partner and jabbed a stiletto like a needle in his neck. As a master assassin he knew the exact spot to strike, and Gato was dead before Guevo could finish muttering his pious apology.

The brothers watched on with distant amusement, the same way one might look upon a bug hitting a windscreen. “Nicely done, rojizo,” drawled Damien. “Turns out the cat only had one life, eh?”

All three men turned their gaze from the corpse to the girl silently sobbing on the car hood, her white ass glinting in the moonlight, an angry red mark rising up from where it had been struck. “I hope,” said Guevo with a cold voice, “I sincerely fucking hope that this bitch is worth the charade, because this is going to take some selling.”

A pistol report split the night, followed by a sudden pained curse from Guevo. Carlos had shot him in the foot, with a superb aim for such a sudden shot in poor light. “There you go Guevo, you can tell your man some bullshit story about how Los Zetas jumped you,” chortled the psychotic thug. “Don’t worry about this little fuck machine”, he said as he slapped Sofia’s ass right on the red welt, “she won’t be tellin’ anyone about our little date.” With that he seized Sofia, wrenched her to her feet, and hissed in her ear, “Now stay quiet and you can lie on the back seat. Cause trouble and you’re in the boot.”

“We’ll be going then, amigo,” said Damien wryly. “Keep your end of the deal and Angel said he’ll keep his. Tell your esteemed boss that it was him who took the bitch though, he really wanted him to know that”. With a curt nod, the wiry figure returned to his car, while his brother threw Sofia onto the back seat and covered her with a blanket. “Stay quiet senorita! Or you gonna wind up leaving your bones out here anyway, okay?” Then he joined Damien in the front and the car quickly rolled off into the black morass of the night.

Guevo grimaced at the dull pain in his foot, and carefully hobbled back over to his own car. He didn’t spare the dead, half-naked Gato a second glance. Taking his phone from the dashboard he tried to form the words he’d need in his fractured mind. “Goodbye bitch, hope we never meet again,” he said to himself with a weary humour. Guevo could only assume she was going to be sold into sexual slavery in some Zetas hellhole, like many girls before her. Perhaps she would have been better off with a bullet after all, he considered, starring up at the starry spread above. Blessed be Santa Muerte, keep me from your loving hands one more night.

 

[Chai]

Sofia's head spun as the car pulled into a highway. Or maybe that was the world spinning her, throwing her relentlessly from situation to situation like a tornado, and not caring where it spat her out. It had ejected her roughly, beaten and bruised—quite literally—and thrown to the wolves. And that wolf had torn her apart in almost all conceivable ways, though there was some solace to be found in his death. She replayed the moment in her mind over and over again, each time imagining herself delivering the final blow. Swallowing dryly, she tried to ignore the wash of shame that coursed through her, accompanied by the humiliation. While she was grateful for the two strangers intervening, she also knew she wasn't out of hot water just yet. But for the time being, she relaxed and let herself worry only about the present.

The car swerved suddenly, a result of another car nearly clipping them trying to switch lanes, and Sofia made an audible groan as her body jolted to right. Damien cursed, honking his car horn a few times in rapid succession and glancing briefly in his rear view mirror at Sofia, while Carlos put a hand on the dash to steady himself.

"Drive better, Damien, fuck," Carlos said after a moment, frowning and turning the radio on to some Tejano station, the soft sound of a bouncy accordion and drum beats playing in the background.

"Not my damn fault. And you know I hate when you play that shit in my car," the younger brother replied. He fiddled with the steering wheel controls, browsing through stations until it landed on a mix of 70's and 80's rock hits. "You awake back there, senorita?" Damien's eyes flicked momentarily to the young woman who was fidgeting about, wrapping the blanket to cover more of herself.

She said nothing, only staring straight ahead at the black pavement as the car flew through the highway. Even before Leo, working on the streets of Culiacán had taught her to keep her mouth shut around people she didn't know, and this time was no different. Arguably, it was an even worse situation; being passed from cartel to cartel wasn't a good thing, no matter who it was or where they were from. And Sofia knew who the Los Zetas cartel was; despite operating more across the U.S./Mexico border, they still had a fierce reputation in Mexico and could hold their own when it came to violence, murder, and crime. Rumor had it that their leader used to be on friendly terms with the Jiménez cartel—the cartel Leo, Gato, and Geuvo were associated with—but somewhere along the lines, things went south. Things went really south, apparently.

Carlos turned briefly to look at her. "The bitch don't wanna talk," he shrugged, digging a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialing a number. Sofia could hear the faint echo of ringing before someone picked up the phone. The words were unintelligible, but the voice itself was male.

"We're exiting now. Be there in five," she heard Carlos say before he tapped to end the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

Damien was pulling the car off the highway into the outskirts of downtown, into what looked like a largely industrial sector of the city. Commercial buildings and shipping trucks made up a majority of their surroundings, and after a few minutes more of driving, they pulled into a mostly empty lot behind a large warehouse. It was a drab dirtied white, the steel rusting a bit at one corner, but still relatively clean under the orange glow of the city lights. He cut the engine, leaving them in silence before opening his door and stepping out into the cool summer night.

"Let's go. And don't forget her shit," he told his brother, pointing to Sofia's stolen olive green rucksack sitting on the floor between his legs.