fit of tears. Her eyes burned as she cried, more out of frustration than fear. She was beyond fear in that moment, too exhausted to feel anything. She knew the end was close, that it was inescapable now, and she cried pitifully, snot running from her nose. She prayed that it would be quick and painless but knew that wasn't likely, not after she'd almost escaped. They were sure to punish her more for it. There was no way around that now.
Angel impatiently grabbed a fistful of her hair with his right hand, the stubby calloused fingers yanking until she let out an involuntary gasp. With his left hand he slapped her so hard she saw stars. Before she could open her mouth to speak he struck her over the head with something hard made out of metal. There was a loud pop and she felt hot blood pour from the stinging wound in her cracked skull. She fell to the ground, her cheek burning against the hot dirt. A glossy, black scorpion came rushing up to greet her from underneath the shade of a nearby cactus. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Angel's dusty sneaker stomp down hard and crush it to death.
Chapter Six
Zack was feeling much more relaxed by the time they reached resort row and made their way out of Oscar's wonderfully chilled transportation into the tropical heat of Cabo. Dave had managed to get him to do three full shots of tequila between the airport and the hotel and he was becoming aware of a persistent nagging in his bladder. He realized he hadn't taken a piss since LAX about the same time as the liquor began to intensify the problem. He sprinted past Dave – who was busy doling out tip money to Oscar like Willy Wonka handing out sweets to children – and rushed into the lobby of the nearest hotel. He barely made it, rushing into the first available stall while fumbling with the zipper of his jeans and cursing in a buzzed stupor. He let out a low, deep moan of relief as the hot jet of urine came steaming out of him, forming tiny bubbles in the water below. Zack absentmindedly noticed that they resembled a series of interconnecting amber-tinted skulls that seemed to grow in exponential numbers by the second, until the whole bowl was practically filled with them.
Like something you'd see inside a catacomb , Zack pondered, or a mass grave.
A cold shiver ran down his spine at the morbid thought. Zack forced the image from his mind and flushed the toilet. He took his time washing his hands and face in the cool water from the sink, letting his nerves settle back down before heading outside. He was feeling like a million bucks by the time he jogged over to the curb again, the visceral sense of dread that had unexpectedly gripped him just moments before now completely forgotten. Oscar was long gone but Dave was standing next to their luggage. Zack hurried over and grabbed his bag, swinging it up and behind him.
“Where are we staying again?” Zack asked.
“Last one on the left,” Dave said, trundling forward with his wheeled bag. Zack followed, enjoying the feeling of the gritty sand underneath his flip flops as it crunched against the hard stone road beneath.
“So why didn't we just have Oscar take us all the way up to the front of the place like normal people then?” Zack prodded.
“I never let anyone know where I am going if I can help it,” Dave said, the paranoid look he usually had back at home returning full force to his buzzed face. “That's how you get robbed or held for ransom. Trust me. It happens a lot down here. It's practically a respectable occupation in places like Mexico City.”
Zack nodded, realizing at last why Dave had made such a huge fuss with the customs official for demanding to know where he was staying. Makes sense now that he didn't want to announce it to the entire line of strangers from the plane.
“Okay,” Zack said. “So why not hire security guards then? It's not like you can't afford it.”
“Pass. That's a guaranteed way to make yourself a target. You might
Angel impatiently grabbed a fistful of her hair with his right hand, the stubby calloused fingers yanking until she let out an involuntary gasp. With his left hand he slapped her so hard she saw stars. Before she could open her mouth to speak he struck her over the head with something hard made out of metal. There was a loud pop and she felt hot blood pour from the stinging wound in her cracked skull. She fell to the ground, her cheek burning against the hot dirt. A glossy, black scorpion came rushing up to greet her from underneath the shade of a nearby cactus. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Angel's dusty sneaker stomp down hard and crush it to death.
Chapter Six
Zack was feeling much more relaxed by the time they reached resort row and made their way out of Oscar's wonderfully chilled transportation into the tropical heat of Cabo. Dave had managed to get him to do three full shots of tequila between the airport and the hotel and he was becoming aware of a persistent nagging in his bladder. He realized he hadn't taken a piss since LAX about the same time as the liquor began to intensify the problem. He sprinted past Dave – who was busy doling out tip money to Oscar like Willy Wonka handing out sweets to children – and rushed into the lobby of the nearest hotel. He barely made it, rushing into the first available stall while fumbling with the zipper of his jeans and cursing in a buzzed stupor. He let out a low, deep moan of relief as the hot jet of urine came steaming out of him, forming tiny bubbles in the water below. Zack absentmindedly noticed that they resembled a series of interconnecting amber-tinted skulls that seemed to grow in exponential numbers by the second, until the whole bowl was practically filled with them.
Like something you'd see inside a catacomb , Zack pondered, or a mass grave.
A cold shiver ran down his spine at the morbid thought. Zack forced the image from his mind and flushed the toilet. He took his time washing his hands and face in the cool water from the sink, letting his nerves settle back down before heading outside. He was feeling like a million bucks by the time he jogged over to the curb again, the visceral sense of dread that had unexpectedly gripped him just moments before now completely forgotten. Oscar was long gone but Dave was standing next to their luggage. Zack hurried over and grabbed his bag, swinging it up and behind him.
“Where are we staying again?” Zack asked.
“Last one on the left,” Dave said, trundling forward with his wheeled bag. Zack followed, enjoying the feeling of the gritty sand underneath his flip flops as it crunched against the hard stone road beneath.
“So why didn't we just have Oscar take us all the way up to the front of the place like normal people then?” Zack prodded.
“I never let anyone know where I am going if I can help it,” Dave said, the paranoid look he usually had back at home returning full force to his buzzed face. “That's how you get robbed or held for ransom. Trust me. It happens a lot down here. It's practically a respectable occupation in places like Mexico City.”
Zack nodded, realizing at last why Dave had made such a huge fuss with the customs official for demanding to know where he was staying. Makes sense now that he didn't want to announce it to the entire line of strangers from the plane.
“Okay,” Zack said. “So why not hire security guards then? It's not like you can't afford it.”
“Pass. That's a guaranteed way to make yourself a target. You might
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