While Drowning in the Desert

Chapter 26

My ribs hurt like hell and my heart ached worse. As I watched Heinz-57 carry Neal away I knew I was never going to see him again.

Neal, I mean.

And yes, I started to cry. This time my heart really was broken and I didn’t care that some little Arab midget was pointing a gun at me, and I didn’t even care if he pulled the trigger.

My life was over anyway.

So when little… Sami, I guess his name was, herded Nathan and Hope out of what was left of the shack and sat us down in the sun to bake until Heinz-57 came to shoot us, I didn’t much care.

That’s the downside to loving someone. When they go they take so much of your life with them.

Anyway, old Heinz-57 came striding back a while later like he was King Shit, you know.

“What did you do to Neal?” I asked.

“Disposed of him,” he said.

Then I really started crying. I didn’t care that the son of a bitch was enjoying it. My damn heart was broken.

Heinz kept moving, fiddled with the Land Rover, and managed to back it out of the shack. Then he said to Sami, “You carry the old man’s body, I carry this bitch. Then we come back. It will take both of us to carry the old lady.”

“I beg your pardon!” Hope said.

“Okay,” said Sami. “I-”

He stopped in his tracks. His mouth gaped as he looked over Heinz’s shoulder. I looked too.

A Jeep was barreling in on us. The driver braked, the Jeep fishtailed and threw up a cloud of dust. When it cleared I saw an older, silver-haired man in an immaculate gray pinstripe suit climb easily out of the passenger side. The driver, a barrel-chested man in his early thirties, got out his own side.

Sami dropped his gun in the dirt. I could see Heinz holding his behind his back.

The silver-haired man said, “Hello, Mr. Silver.”

Nathan said, “Good morning, Mr. C.”

Mr. C turned to Heinz and said, “It’s not polite to keep people sitting out in the sun like this. Particularly older people.”

“What business is this of yours?” Heinz asked.

“Where’s Neal Carey?”

I couldn’t see Heinz-57’s face, but I knew it had that arrogant smirk on it as he said, “The same place you’ll-”

He swung out the gun and went into a macho-man combat crouch.

I swear that Mr. C didn’t move, flinch, or even blink as his driver pulled his own gun and shot Heinz-57 four times in the chest before Heinz could even raise his pistol. Mr. C just turned his gaze to Sami and asked, “Where’s Neal Carey?”

Sami’s hand shook as he pointed toward the opposite hill.

I got up and ran.