“Order me around like that again, and I’ll cut your other eye out,” Joana snapped but didn’t stop Tadeo as he stepped onto the sidewalk and went for the pistol and ammo he’d been holding by his feet.“But I’ll take the chance to go to the gas station we passed by.I haven’t checked that one.”Tadeo frowned deep as the ocean.“My guess is they’re probably going one-by-one, but who knows.The private companies might last longer.If you can get this motherfucker to tell you who you can kill to get the gasoline back — that’s all we need.”Firmly, Tadeo nodded.“I’ll be back soon.”Then, before Tadeo could shut the door, Joana craned her face back and barked, “Angel, come up here!I’m not your chauffeur.”
Jolting, Dina swished his head in Tadeo’s direction, as if to ask for permission, but Tadeo simply stepped further into the sidewalk, leaving the door open and turning around as he walked past the broken gate, moved along the path.
“Tadeo!Tadeo!”
The man in question glanced to his right, seeing some children who’d been playing, waving their hands and cheering for him, one of them saluting if he were doing it to a flag.‘What?’Tadeo shifted uncomfortably, strangely warm over his cheeks, then raised a hand to wave.‘Do I salute back?Do they know who I am?’Of course they did, many knew, in whispers; he imagined the children listening to their parents’ warnings of a beast but reacting with awe, wanting to turn into monsters as well.Impulsively, Tadeo saluted, but the children broke out into squeals of laughter, turning to one another and mimicking him immediately.
Then, he sighed.Whether Tadeo was turning into a saint in their eyes or not, he supposed one could never escape the bullying of children.Behind him, he heard the car door shut, and he looked to see Dina in the passenger’s, staring at him again whereas Joana maintained her sight on the road.Before long, the car coughed some exhaust behind itself, and the two were speeding down the street, turning rather sharply onto the main road.After this, Tadeo finally headed for the door, his breath uneven, his heart beginning to knock on his chest and ask if he was here.He was, he was.‘Somehow.’He was still alive, though he had died.
Reaching into his pocket, the anti-Christ pulled out a keyring, used it on the multiple locks he’d attached to the entrance, then stepped inside, locking the way in behind him.
Stopping at a red light, abrupt and harsh, Joana remained in place while Dina swung forward then back into his chair with a little surprised, almost frightened noise.The too-long line of vehicles before them indicated what might’ve been a crash up ahead or some other road blockage — criminals used to leave burning cars along the streets to frighten civilians and lead them away, but it had been maybe a year or two since then.
“Dina…” Joana rolled the name over her tongue, watching Dina turn his head from her periphery as she reached to turn up the radio, wondering if there would be anything about the massacre Tadeo had committed, but her hearing was overwhelmed by static and regional music blasting from a car beside them.“I’m curious about you.”The angel parted his lips.“I’ve been trying to figure out what you want.If you haven’t killed Tadeo already, then what could you want?”
At the same time, Tadeo was turning the dial on an electric lamp on a pale plastic table he’d found the same day he brought the injured soldier here.The yellow-ish glow swelled to fill the darkness of the small, square room like an inkblot, and soon, Tadeo found himself staring at the hunched-over figure whose wrists were tied behind a plastic chair whereas his ankles were tied to the legs.He remained in the same camouflage pants as before, but his jacket had been removed to leave him in a stained, sweated, bloodied white undershirt; two metal dog tags were laid against his strong chest, rising with each unnaturally steady breath.Engravings on the silver read Dante Perez, as well as offered a number and blood type.Now that they were not shooting at one another, Tadeo could examine his features better — the black hair fading to a buzzed trim at his neck, the darker brown skin, the almost black eyes, the strong jaw, and the thicker brows, a bead of sweat dribbling down from them.One of his hands was bandaged, rather amateurishly.
“Dante,” Tadeo tried for the first time, though he had read that name before.He’d noticed it as the soldier kept fighting against losing consciousness and against Tadeo’s grip on his jacket as he dragged him across the mud, heading back into town.
“Get it over with,” came a low, husky grunt.
Tadeo stared, feeling the dryness in his throat harden into beads he had no choice but to swallow down into his stomach, however much it weighed him down.“Get what over with?”He did what he always did when he had the urge to tremble: he clenched his teeth and lifted his other hand, the one with the firearm, setting it on the table, far from the man’s reach if he miraculously managed to escape his bindings.Tadeo always had to plan for miracles; he was a miracle himself.“Do you think I’m here to kill you?”
“I’m not going to tell you anything.”
Tadeo swallowed.“That would be stupid of you.”
“Chop my legs off and I still wouldn’t tell you shit.”
“What if I chopped that head of yours off?”
“Then I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything even if I wanted to, dumbass.”
Quickly — Tadeo twisted, kicked back a leg, then swung it around to slam his shoe into his captive’s jaw with a dull thud followed by the screech of the plastic chair and the strangled, deep cry in pain.The man lurched to the side, gasping and spitting but there was no blood yet, even though the side of his face immediately reddened.“You’re the dumbass.You don’t even know what I want yet.”But Tadeo lifted his foot again and set it down on the chair, between Dante’s legs, lowering himself to bring their faces closer and added: “You’re lucky.I could have left you to die out there.”
Dante, slow, tilted his head over at him, his shoulders trembling with his fluttered breaths.“Oh lucky me, I’ve always wanted to get disemboweled.Why are you in my face?You want a kiss, faggot?”The response this time was a punch, striking the same side; Tadeo knew the sting of it would be worse, and he was right.He remained in place with his foot on the chair as his fist whipped to have Dante jerk once more to the side, this time blood shooting from between his lips to bead the ground in red.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions.You’re going to answer them,” Tadeo continued.
“Fuck,” said gurgled, “you.”
“Why were the soldiers sent here?Violence has been at its lowest for the last few years.”
“What are the hell are you?How did you kill all those men?”
“Answer me.”Tadeo trembled, wishing more than anything that his body wouldn’t betray him.But he hated the way soldiers spoke; he hated their humor; he hated the way they carried themselves.He hated soldiers.‘None of you are good.’He wished he could get away with slaughtering them like the traffickers.He wished he could have killed those men slower.‘All of you soldiers, scum of the earth, rapists, motherfuckers, demons.’
“You turned into a fucking monster.”
Lifting his fist again, Tadeo didn’t bring it to Dante’s face; instead, he smashed it down on the bandaged, bound hand, over his pinkie finger.At the howl in pain of the bones cracking beneath, he replied: “I’ll become a monster again if you don’t tell me why you were sent here.”Dante shook his head, teeth grit, and so Tadeo lifted his fist once more, this time dropping it onto the middle and ring fingers with a hard stomp that cleanly snapped each digit and brought out another angry yell.“Why are you here?”Panting hoarsely, Dante didn’t respond, and Tadeo had to try not to grin, to revel in the agony of the soldier.“Why are,” Tadeo repeated, taking the soldier’s thumb and index between two fingers, feeling Dante frantically struggle in the binds, broken fingers flopping about as he did; Tadeo could deliciously taste his panic now — “you here?”And as he crushed the two last digits on Dante’s left hand hard against each other, so tightly that with a bloody tear, the thumb and its tendon was pulled out from its socket, skin splitting open to drop far more blood onto the ground.
Screaming, as high and as desperate as he had, Dante finally spat right in Tadeo’s face: “Because ofyou!”His voice broke instantly, and he doubled over, groaning and clenching his eyes shut.“Because,” he echoed himself, “of you.Because of you!”Hiccups broke in between syllables; he was trying not to cry.
“Why?”Tadeo released him, staring down at the hand he’d mangled, twitching uselessly, the section at the wrist gushing blood, more than he’d intended.“Why would the state send soldiers because of me?Do they think I’m a criminal?”
“Youarea criminal, dumbass.”Weak, groaning.“You murdered the soldiers.You’re fucking torturing me.”Dante shook his head again, but like he was trying to wake himself.“We were sent here to capture you.”
“I only killed the soldiers because you all attacked me,” Tadeo spat, finally removing his foot and moving away, taking a few steps back to lift a hand and shakily run it through his hair, damp, sweatier than he’d been expecting.It was too warm in here; without thinking, he lifted an arm and wiped the drops on his brow with his sleeve.“I’m not a criminal.I don’t kill innocent people.”But he could reasonably assume what Dante would respond with.“The soldiers I’ve killed in this town for the past few years— I only did it because they were corrupt.They were no better than the criminals they were supposed to protect us from.All of you are corrupt.”
