“Yeah, it’s us,” Cletus said.
No sooner had he clicked off did the gates begin to open on some electric chain mechanism, and I realized they were new despite the appearance of the small township behind them. I drove through and followed Cletus’ directions and then parked the truck and turned the engine off before climbing out. My knees locked, and I bit down on my lip to stifle my moan of pain from my body’s effort to move.
I took a moment to examine my surroundings. The edifices were dilapidated, and the doors were cracked and faded from the sun. Some were falling off their hinges and there was dirt and dust covering almost every surface. We had come to one of those forgotten towns in the middle of nowhere, and it had clearly been decades since any occupants had bothered to wash or paint the exteriors of the buildings. A few young women with wide eyes and gaunt faces hurried down the dusty streets, as if they didn’t want to be out in the open. An old man with white hair and sunken cheeks from lack of teeth scooped beans from a wooden bowl into his mouth, muttering to himself in Spanish.
Cletus scrambled from his side of the truck and quickly came to me, grasping my bandaged arm.
I hissed in pain.
He released me instantly and then glared. “Don’t open your mouth unless I tell you to. Got it?”
When I didn’t reply, he leaned in close enough that I could smell the stale cigarette smoke and gingivitis on his breath and asked again, “Got it?”
“Got it,” I snapped back.
The structure we’d parked in front of was larger than the rest. I wondered if it had been opulent in its heyday. It might’ve been gorgeous at some point but, it, too, had fallen into disrepair.
Where am I?
The heavy wooden front door opened, and a man loomed in the doorway. He was tall and lithe, with dark hair combed off his forehead. His gray silk shirt draped across his shoulders like it was a part of him, and contrasting black slacks topped expensive looking shoes that were polished to a perfect shine. He was urbane, and I didn’t trust the veneer of his appearance at all.
He looked completely out of place in this poverty-stricken ghost town.
The man perused me up and down for a long moment, and then he turned his attention to Cletus.
“You’re late,” he said in heavily accented English. “And you’re missing a partner.”
“Paul’s dead,” Cletus said flatly. “Killed in a car accident.”
The man’s gaze came back to me, and my heart kicked up in terror.
He was the one to fear. I knew it in my bones.
“She’s wounded,” he said as he stalked toward me. I instinctively flinched away from him, but he captured my chin in his hand and turned my face from side to side for inspection.
“It’s her fault,” Cletus defended. “She caused the car accident trying to get away.”
The man’s jaw clenched, and he released me. I hastily scrubbed my skin as though I could somehow remove his touch.
“You were supposed to deliver her three hours ago, and in pristine condition,” he said.
“But Paul—”
“Paul is dead, as you said,” the man interrupted. “I don’t like excuses.”
I swallowed at the deadly calm in his voice.
Cletus’ hands clenched by his side. “Look, I just want the money—”
“Money?” Dante repeated. “For a job not done to my satisfaction?”
“I nearly died bringing her here,” Cletus argued. “And now you’re not going to pay me? Fuck that, man!”
“Shh, easy now. I’ll pay you,” Dante crooned.
Cletus paused, looking befuddled. “You will?”
“Yes, of course.”