Except, this man wasn’t spilling candy and confetti, he was spilling blood and fatty tissue. A portion of his stomach protruded where a thin layer of skin was likely all that held in his innards.
Thick colorful knots had risen all over his body, attempting to compensate and heal damage that was beyond repair. The man’s otherwise olive tone was a swirl of dark gray and an array of darker colors.
Each harsh blow Arjen delivered, knocked the wind from his lungs and sank him deeper into the wide open arms of death. The gurgling had started two strikes ago, so his internal wounds were taking their toll.
Each man who faced us, likely wished that they had left our father in that Russian prison, because our warped brains had cooked up horrors that made the king of hell jealous. Aside from an occasional nap and enough food for him to open his eyes, Arjen survived off adrenaline and rage.
If I’d not seen how fiercely he loved Mecca, I’d have not understood his level of urgency or the state of madness he embraced. We had tortured man after man, but they were all certain that we had captured all of our father’s helpers. It didn’t matter what they said, we’d never stop looking because anyone associated with helping our father in any way had signed their own death certificates.
The one thing that stopped Arjen from pounding into the man was his ringing phone.
“Hello,” he answered, his calm tone was in contrast with the brutality he was just unleashing.
He went quiet, nodding at the person speaking on the other end. With the phone pinned to his ear with one hand, he began stripping from his bloody coveralls with the other.
“Okay, we’ll be right there.”
He stared up while ripping out of the bloody plastic. Not giving me a chance to ask, he stated, “Silvia. She needs to see us now.” He took one look at my expression and answered the next question on my face.
“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone, but she didn’t sound good. Let’s go,” he tossed back, already heading towards the stairs, leaving the half-dead man hanging from the ceiling and the faceless one lying in a pool of blood, shit, and piss.
What the hell were we about to face now? Had Silvia Cardenas changed her mind about killing us over what had happened to her daughter?