A Cruel and Violent Storm Read online

  A Cruel and Violent Storm

  By Don M. Esquibel

  Copyright 2019 Don M. Esquibel. All rights reserved.

  Published 2019 by Don M. Esquibel

  Contact:

  [email protected]

  www.facebook.com/dmesquibel89

  Twitter: @dmesquibel89

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: (Morgan)

  Chapter 2: (Lauren)

  Chapter 3: (Morgan)

  Chapter 4: (Lauren)

  Chapter 5: (Morgan)

  Chapter 6: (Lauren)

  Chapter 7: (Morgan)

  Chapter 8: (Lauren)

  Chapter 9: (Morgan)

  Chapter 10: (Lauren)

  Chapter 11: (Morgan)

  Chapter 12: (Lauren)

  Chapter 13: (Morgan)

  Chapter 14: (Lauren)

  Chapter 15: (Morgan)

  Chapter 16: (Lauren)

  Chapter 17: (Morgan)

  Chapter 18: (Lauren)

  Chapter 19: (Morgan)

  Chapter 20: (Morgan)

  Chapter 21: (Lauren)

  Chapter 22: (Morgan)

  Chapter 23: (Lauren)

  Chapter 24: (Morgan)

  Chapter 25: (Lauren)

  Chapter 26: (Morgan)

  Chapter 27: (Lauren)

  Chapter 28: (Morgan)

  Chapter 29: (Lauren)

  Chapter 30: (Morgan)

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  The night is dark and still, the sky unblemished by clouds and twinkling with an arrayment of countless distant stars. A gentle breeze caresses my face, its touch cool and calm and completely at odds with the nervous energy flowing throughout my body. All around me the shifting and murmuring of my family reach my ears, their fear and tension palpable, mounting my nerves ever higher.

  Deep breath. In. Out. Have faith things will be alright.

  To calm myself, my eyes trace constellations against the inky blackness. The Princess Andromeda—chained and left to the mercy of a monster...Just as my family are now at the mercy of the Animas Animals. Ursa Minor, the little bear where resides the North Star, Polaris—the star by which innumerable lost souls have been guided home. Home. A place of warmth and welcome. Of safety and belonging. A place I fought and sacrificed to reach, only to discover it a husk of what once was. Still, though my home may be shattered, my family remains unbroken. They have been robbed, blackmailed, coerced into believing no hope remains. But tonight, hope will be restored. Tonight, we strike back.

  Faith. Faith. Just have faith.

  My gaze drifts south, landing on the outline of the great warrior Hercules, slayer of the Nemean Lion, of the Lernaean Hydra, of a dozen other beasts who would rip and claw and maul without mercy those who crossed their path. I don’t feel a warrior under the enormity of the night sky. I feel small. Weak. I feel a charlatan donning a mask so as not to reveal the cracks and fissures which run deep within. Nevertheless, beasts roam these lands. They are powerful, they are ruthless, and they have taken my kin into their den. So whether weak or strong, warrior or charlatan, I will face these beasts all the same. I will face them because of a promise made to create a life of peace for those I love. Because I live in a world where there are no heroes, no saviors, no line of defense against the beasts who seek to claim our lives as theirs. There is only us. Only men and women willing to sacrifice everything to keep those beasts at bay.

  Swallow your fear. Wear the mask. Be the man your family needs you to be.

  Midnight approaches. Soon I will be cloaked in darkness and throwing myself once more into the fray. I will fight and rage and drench myself in the blood of any beast who would keep me from my kin. And if in the end they claim my life, so be it. For before I fall they will know fear. They will know chaos. They will know a taste of the wrath that will one day be their undoing.

  The door opens behind me, and I know the time has come. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and once again step forward into the unknown. This was never the path I wanted—the path I would have chosen for myself. But it is the path that has been set before me. It is dark and twisted with seemingly no end in sight. Yet, I will see it through. Because only through this path do I have a chance to uphold my promise. Only through this path can I make my dream come true and leave this nightmare behind.

  Chapter 1: (Morgan)

  “Come back to me,” she whispers. “Understand? You do what must be done, and then you come back to me.”

  In my mother’s embrace I stand, her body half that of my own yet radiating a strength that feeds my soul. The room swirls in a whirlwind of anxiety and unease, tonight’s actions leaving everyone an apprehensive mess. All except the fierce woman before me. She is the eye of the storm—the calm amid the chaos. She is the reason my family has survived thus far.

  “I will,” I promise.

  Her hand's cradle my face and her eyes bore into mine: eyes I inherited and which seem to say a thousand things at once. I see pride and worry. Faith and hope. But above all I see love. I let it fill me, feeding me the courage I need for what is to come. She lets her hands fall and my father takes her place, wrapping me in a tight hug and squeezing me for all he’s worth. As a child, I remember how safe I felt wrapped in his arms, certain that nothing and no one could do me harm so long as he was there to protect me. He was larger than life. My hero. His face is more lined than I remember, his hair more shot through with gray. He stands half a head shorter than me, his frame slighter than my own. Through teary eyes, he looks at me now and I have to fight the urge to look away, the admiration in his stare overwhelming. It’s a humbling experience to see your hero look to you as you once looked to them.

  “Be safe, son,” he says. “I believe in you.”

  I turn now to Emily, her eyes so swollen it’s a wonder she can see at all. She’s been a nervous wreck most of the day, worrying over our plan and mourning her best friend. I hold her close while she cries silently into my chest. No words are spoken. Nothing needs to be said that we don’t know already. Neither of us are new to weathering the harshness of this new world. I hold her till she lets go with a warning not to do anything stupid.

  “Never, Princess,” I say. She doesn’t smile, nor do I. There is no humor in tonight.

  It’s strange to see Leon and Felix beside her, knowing they will not be joining me. Since this all began, they’ve never left my side. Everything I’ve faced has been done so with the confidence that they had my back. But they are more needed here. Our plan is too dangerous not to have contingencies. Should anything happen tonight, I need to know my family remains in good hands. I hug each of them in turn, a brief nod serving as our parting words. They are my brothers in every way but blood. We all know what goes left unsaid.

  Grace is in my arms a moment later, shivering slightly out of fear. I can tell how badly she wants to stay brave, but she can’t fight back the tears that fall when I squeeze her closer. The poor girl has been through so much more than anyone her age should ever have to deal with. Yet she perseveres, unwilling to let circumstance break her. She gets that from her sister. The strength they share is inspiring. But no one can be strong all the time.

  “I’m gonna be ok, Gracie,” I say.

  “Promise?” she asks, voice thick.

  “Promise,” I assure her. “I’ll be back before sunrise.” I will. I know I will.

  Grace quickly wipes her eyes and steps aside so I may greet her sister. Standing before the girl I love, it hits me just how real this is—how much I am about to risk. But what choice is there? Tonight is more than a simple rescue mission. It’s about making my family whole again. It’s about showing th
e Animals who took them that they are not invincible—that they cannot do whatever they damn well please without someone rising against them. Someone has to rise against them. If not, they will take and take and take, until their grip over this town becomes so resolute there can be no hope against them. As Lauren reminded me earlier, I am that hope. I am the promise of something better. That is my burden.

  It feels so right having her wrapped in my arms. Everything is safe here. All of my fears forgotten as the warmth of her breath washes across my neck and her heart beats against my own. I don’t want to let go. But eventually she releases me and suddenly I’m staring into an ocean of deep green as her eyes find mine. Would that I was a poet and could tell her all she means to me—that I could put into words what stirs inside my soul when she looks at me like this.

  “I know, Morgan,” she breathes. “I know.”

  Suddenly her lips are on mine and it is in this moment I realize what a fool I am. Of course I am lost for words. I always will be. Because love isn’t something to be described, it is something to be felt—something to be experienced and shared with those who make life worth living. If ever there was proof of that, it’s this.

  I soak in the faces about the room, memorizing this moment forever in my heart. Through all the tension and angst lying upon the air, there is no mistaking the hope blooming between my family as they look at me. At times their belief in me is a weight on my shoulders—a cross to be carried. But at others, it is my strength. My drive. It is the fuel feeding the fire which blazes through me, burning away any lingering fear and doubt I may have held about tonight. I will not fail. There is still too much work to be done, too much life to be had. There is still a future for us. I have to believe that. And it all starts tonight.

  “Stay alert and take care of each other,” I say. “We’ll be back by sunrise.” Before I make my leave I share one last look with Lauren, allowing myself this quiet moment before it begins. As I watch her, she graces me with the smallest of smiles. A small gesture, hardly more than a grin and as fleeting as a whisper. Yet, above all else, it is what sets me at peace—what grants me the clarity of mind I need for tonight to succeed.

  With a nod, I turn away and join my hunting party: Vince, Jerry, and Richard. Before we make our leave there is a moment we share, a feeling of camaraderie, of understanding that no matter how the night plays out, we will make through to morning.

  “Let’s head out,” I say.

  The hunt is on.

  We move as shifting shadows, blending in with the darkness as we dart between patches of cover. My eyes flicker about for threats, my ears straining for anything absent our breaths and sighing wind. I will not be caught off guard again. I’m barely held together as it is, last night’s events leaving me raw and wounded. I use that pain now to sharpen my senses, to keep a repeat from happening.

  Richard takes point as we travel. At forty-four, he’s near twice my age but in far better shape than I’ve ever been. I’ve been hiking the Colorado Trail for months. Richard served over twenty years in the Marines. Two years as a civilian and he’s still fit as a fiddle. I don’t know the man well, but I’m glad to have him on this mission all the same. He’s a warrior. The horrors I’ve seen have been seen by him a hundred times over. He knows better than any of us the danger we face.

  We crouch now in the brambles of a large hedgerow. A van slowly creeps along the adjoining street, barely visible, nearly silent. At the intersection, it turns and I let loose a breath of relief.

  “The bastards stalk at night,” Vince whispers.

  “And the early morning,” Jerry adds bitterly.

  They both grow quiet and I know they’re thinking of their sister, Julia. Early morning is when she and my cousin Trent were taken. Caught hauling water from an abandoned house whose spigot had served as their water source since the collapse. I can feel the rage flowing through them. I know it well. It is the same rage which flowed through me when I faced off against Clint and his gang. But I also knew how to tame it. To not let it run away from me. Rage can be a tool, a weapon. It can also lead to recklessness. To mistakes. We can’t afford either tonight.

  “We’ll make it right,” I assure them, tempering their emotion. “We just have to be smart about it. The plan will work.”

  We encounter no more patrols en route to our destination. In fact, outside of a wandering raccoon which nearly got pumped full of bullets after spooking Jerry, we encounter no activity at all. I’m not fooled. The population may have dwindled to a fraction of what it once was, but there are still plenty of people in the area. Behind locked doors, they wait out the night. Do they sleep? Do they stand guard? Do they feel the looming threat building in their backyard? Surely some do. But does that even matter if nobody is willing to stand against it? I shake the thought away. I need to stay focused on the task at hand. It’s all that matters right now.

  From on high, we eye our target. Lit from the light of a dozen fires, it sits on the opposite bank of the Animas River. The Doubletree. Once one of Durango’s finer hotels, it now serves as the base of operations for the Animas Animals. It’s a fortress. Sentries guard the entrances. Patrols walk its perimeter. As a deterrent to breaching parties, the sliding glass doors leading to guest patios have been boarded up all along the ground level. Witnessing the full scope of what we face, this suddenly feels more a prayer than a plan. Everything has to line up just right for us to have a chance.

  “That’s the ballroom, there,” Vince whispers. The hotel is arranged in three sections: a central body consisting of the lobby and other accommodations, and two branches of guest rooms connected on either side. A large bank of windows at the center of the hotel marks the ballroom. Hidden behind the dark glass my cousins are held captive, joined by dozens of others who’ve been recruited against their will. So close, yet so many obstacles lay between us.

  “Only a single patrol by the looks of it,” I say.

  “Arrogance,” Richard spits. “They have the location. The manpower. But they’re sloppy. They think because of their reputation, nobody can touch them.” He turns to me, and I flinch at the glint in his eyes. He served in the military nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Retired or not, at least part of him still craves this. I feel a shiver dance down my spine, wondering if I might one day share such a craving. “Their mistake.”

  Slowly we traverse the backside of the hill so as not to be spotted by prying eyes. Beside the highway is a footbridge spanning the river and leading to the Doubletree. We find the way unguarded, just as they promised it would be. So much relies on what they observed the night Trent and Julia were taken. While I celebrated the feat of finally making it home, they scouted from nightfall to sunrise, making note of every detail they could. I just hope it’s enough.

  Across the bridge we leave the trail and make for the riverbank, using its slope to shield us from view. A strip of grass dotted with trees separate the hotel from the river trail. Fires burn in metal barrels across the expanse of grass, illuminating the area. But where there is light, there is shadow. We position ourselves accordingly. A patrol of three men approach from the north. They laugh as they grow closer, their weapons held loosely. Richard was right, their arrogance makes them sloppy, believing themselves untouchable. The fools. Nobody is untouchable.

  Twenty yards out.

  Ten.

  They draw even, and from the shadows, we emerge. Hands cover mouths. Blades slash across throats. They never stood a chance. Warm blood soaks my hands as I drag my victim down the embankment. We strip the bodies of weapons and stow them inside the bag Vince had the foresight to bring. Every weapon, every bullet counts in this new world. At the water’s edge, I take a moment to wash the blood from my hands, wondering how much more they will see in my quest to build a better life for those I love.

  Doesn’t matter. Has to be done.

  We close the distance from the riverbank to the hotel in seconds. Flat against the ground we wait for a shout, a gunshot, an alarm that tell
s us we’ve been spotted. But none comes. When we are sure we’ve gone unnoticed we move into position for the next phase of the plan: infiltration. As the tallest, Jerry and I squat facing each other with our hands cradled before us. Carefully, Vince steps into our cradles while Richard stands close to spot him. Silently, Vince signals he’s ready. With a grunt I straighten out and lift my arms as high as I can, Jerry mirroring my movements. Vince wobbles a bit but maintains his balance long enough to reach for the railing of the second-floor patio. He quickly picks himself over and throws down a rope after securing it to the railing. The three of us haul ourselves up and join Vince on the patio. We find the sliding glass door unlocked and the room occupied by two men. One snores heavily in his sleep while the second stirs to consciousness at our arrival.

  “The hell is going—” Richard silences him before an alarm can be raised or a move made against us. Moments later the second man’s snoring is silenced by Richards blade. The smell of blood is nauseating in the confined space. After all this time you’d think I would be used to it. We take the time to search the room, adding an AK, 30-30, and a revolver to our arsenal. Into the bag, they go.

  We slip into the hallway, a handful of low lit lanterns spaced about creating a patchwork of light and shadow. We move swiftly, weapons primed and at the ready. Voices reach us as we near the end of the hallway, forcing us into the recess of a dark stairwell. Two men draw level and then they are past us, turning left at end of the corridor toward the lobby and main entrance of the hotel.

  We enter the corridor, the antechamber to the ballroom on our left. Two guards cover the door. They sit facing each other at a small folding table, a deck of cards between them. Had they been more vigilant they might have heard us, might have noticed the shadows shift beyond their cocoon of light. But again their arrogance shows. Never did they dream someone could penetrate this far into their ranks.