Hell Would be in Mexico
By trucizna
One: Cazando: August 16th, 196 AC
Consuelo leered at me through half-open, eyelash-coated eyelids as she shifted the weight of her head from one flour-frosted arm to the other.
Something about her vastly superior expression concerned me. Her look coupled with the fact that she was usually begging to let her feed me by this point made my courage crumble at the edges. I just stared at her and waited for her to explain herself, as I knew she would.
"Un chico guapo came by here this morning." Since I had no idea what a 'chico guapo' was, I listened without commentary, "He was a foreigner, a gringo, actually, and an attractive one at that. We talked. He was definitely American, what with the random poorly-pronounced Spanish phrases he spewed every three minutes. He asked me casually if I'd seen any foreigners pass through here. I mentioned you."
I still had no idea what a 'chico guapo' was, but I wasn't sure I wanted one knowing I was around.
"What did you tell him?"
"That you had eyes the color of ours, and skin the color of ours, but were decidedly different. I told him your name was Wufei Chang, and his eyes lit up like La Navidad." She shifted her chin on her arms again.
"Shit, Consuelo." If she didn't make amazing sandwiches and give them to me for free I wouldn't have put up with her stupidity. Sometimes I thought it was still too high a price, and I'd rather starve or choke down Jack's 'beef jerky'.
"He said he was your friend, and he'd been looking for you for a long time."
"That doesn't mean he doesn't want me dead!"
She looked genuinely perplexed, "Why would anyone want you dead?"
'Because I am an ex-Gundam pilot and a hazard to the universe.'
I decided not to say that one aloud and just pretended to be confused, too. I looked funny enough that she knew English wasn't my first language, either. She shrugged, the gesture causing a tiny puff of flour to avalanche off her head and one shoulder.
"I sent him up to Old Man Jack's place."
"Shit, Consuelo!"
I ran out of her bakery. I couldn't let the old man die at Consuelo's idiocy, but depending on who it was they might be the one in danger instead.
I ran. Through the dusty town, around Jack's rusting and empty shop and up the tawny dirt path behind it. My feet carried me on a shortcut through an endless field of wheat. I knew where I was going, but the person I was hunting down did not. I caught sight of him standing forlorn and confused against the horizon, his waist-long braid skimming the wheat around him.
There was no mistaking Duo Maxwell, even at this distance.
I stopped running.
He turned slowly around in a circle and caught sight of me standing there. He waved happily, tilting up on his toes and moving his entire arm. It was too hot for that, I thought. I was already regretting running so fast, since the sweat stuck to every joint and ran in annoying rivulets down my face. The heat peeled off the field in waves, making Duo's figure warble as he neared me.
"Consuelo told me a lot about you, you know."
"No, I don't." I replied, eyeing his gleeful smirk a bit apprehensively.
"She spilled the beans. Every single one." He flicked his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and waited for me to ask exactly what kind of beans Consuelo fed him. I decided not to, because he would tell me anyway.
"The whole village talks about you, she said. She said they say you're a scary, white-clad warrior who aims to maim and is twice as terrifying as Old Man Jack himself, yet only half as tall. Apparently, all the young men here hate your guts because you protect his woods from trespassers, since he's finally too old to do it himself."
I shrugged, "they say a lot."
"So it seems." His grin was gigantic. Looking him over, I realized he was terribly skinny and wore battered, dirt-strewn clothes. His nose and cheeks bore the marks of ready-to-peel sunburns. I wondered how long he'd been wandering around this forsaken desert.
"Duo, what are you doing here?"
Grin fading ever so slightly, he shrugged. "Just passing through." I wanted to scoff but stopped myself, opting to narrow my eyes suspiciously at him instead. He shrugged, "it's great to see you, Wufei."
Defeated, I sighed and started walking toward Old Man Jack's place, gesturing for Duo to follow me.
I opened the door carefully, having already warned Duo that Jack was taking his siesta and not to make too much noise. The warning was in vain, however, because as soon as I stepped inside he shouted at me.
"Chang!" To say he bellowed would be more appropriate. I was used to it, but spared a glance to see what Duo thought.
"You maimed Llano, you ingrate!"
I clenched my fists. Duo seemed amused, which didn't help. Not that I cared what Duo thought of me being yelled at, anyway. Jack wheeled himself into the kitchen where I stood slightly ahead of Duo and the still-open front door.
"Shut that there, boy." Jack barked. Startled, Duo jumped inside and let the battered screen door smack shut behind him. "That's better."
Jack turned his crinkled glare back on me.
"I gave them a warning shot. He's still alive, isn't he?"
"He'll limp his whole life. Your bullet went straight through his leg-bone. He won't be out of the hospital for about a week, at least. They had to drive him up to Cuernavaca, the wound was so bad."
"He deserved it. He's been here before, he's seen the signs." I crossed my arms over my chest. Such gruff conversations were not unusual between Jack and I, it's just the way he was. For some reason, however, having Duo witness one such encounter within fifteen minutes of our first meeting in eight months made me nervous.
"You're hopeless, Chang."
"He's not dead." I insisted.
"Not for lack of trying, it seems."
I would have said that if I wanted to kill someone, they'd be dead. But that was defending myself, something I did not need to do. I just glared. Jack sighed.
"Watch yourself, Chang. That's all." And he wheeled himself away for a dramatic exit.
I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that. Wasn't it my job to scare away the brainless losers who shot up Jack's property? How was shooting a particularly senseless one in the leg a bad thing? Obviously the idiot couldn't come back for awhile.
In short, the conversation didn't do much for my mood, and I'd almost forgotten Duo was there. That's something hard to do. I turned to look at him in time to catch him swiping one too-long sleeve across his sweaty forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt in its wake. I watched his blue eyes flick around the room as if chasing a fly on speed, taking in the sagging ceiling, the slightly rusty kitchen appliances, and the dented floor in record time. I could almost see his brain working, checking for potential hiding places, counting and measuring the windows, seeing what kind of lock was on the front door. There wasn't a lock on the front door, something that made me exceedingly nervous. When I'd brought it up with Jack, he just grunted and told me to go buy more ammunition.
"Nice place" Duo said brightly upon finishing his perusal. I shrugged.
"You look like shit, Wufei." He added after a moment.
"I could say the same about you." I replied blandly, eyeing him up and down.
"Bah," He grinned, "I clean up well. Can I take a shower?"
"Please do."
He left and I watched him go. Jack's voice bounced off the metal walls,
"Hunting time, Chang."
I tried not to think about why I was here listening to barked orders from a paraplegic old man. The reason was simple enough. There was nowhere for me to go, nothing else for me to do. For me, El Rey, Mexico had about as much as anywhere else. I hated it, sure, but I knew everywhere else on Earth would be exactly the same. Well, with the exception of the Sanc Kingdom, of course. I wouldn't go there for anything.
Teeth clenched, I grabbed the rifle from its irritatingly conspicuous spot on top of the cabinet and stalked outside. The sun was at that annoying angle where it was large, orange, ominous and right in your bleeding eyes. Settling on my usual hill I noticed that the regular teenagers were already moving through the anemic woods below, guns poised, looking for game. I had it easier than they did, because my prey was dressed in fluorescent orange camouflage and about as smart as Consuelo after she's smoked three bowls of marijuana in a row. I stood on the squashed grass and braced for a warning shot when the scope showed me one of the young men whirling his rifle in my direction. He fired and instinct took over. I dropped flat onto the hilltop and returned fire in one liquid motion. The gun kicked upward but I'd shot the ancient thing enough times to bring the scope exactly where it had been before in enough time to see the shining hole in my attacker's head as he collapsed to the forest floor.
Someone screamed.
So I killed somebody. It wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last. I didn't even feel bad about it; it was self-defense, after all. Somehow I knew shit would hit the proverbial fan, though. No one here liked me, and killing off one of their sons wouldn't help matters at all.
I lay back on the hill, staring at the washed-out, cloudless sky, listening to the panicked shouts of the dead man's friends below me. My arm started to hurt. The fucker actually managed to shoot me. Sighing, I turned to inspect the damage to find that the bullet had gone straight through my arm, leaving a deep rut where it had grazed my bicep. Naturally, the moment I looked at it the pain turned itself up a few notches to meet the gory expectations my eyes provided. I didn't have time to revel in my wound, however, because Old Man Jack wheeled himself toward me faster than he really should have been able to go.
"What happened?" He glared.
"I killed someone." I wasn't surprised at how nonchalant I sounded. I was never very good at pretending to care.
I didn't like the handcuffs. Sheriff Blacker put them on too tight to be explained away by precaution, and I sent my anger through my eyes into his misshapen, sagging leathery face. My hands didn't need to be cuffed behind my back, either. Not for a simple interrogation, anyway.
"So, tell me what happened again, boy."
"He shot me. I shot him back. It was self-defense."
"You know, his friends say you were taking aim at them."
"They were trespassing. I was preparing a warning shot. I did not intend to hit them."
He leaned across the dilapidated wooden table so close to me his tobacco-laden breath washed across my face.
"They tell me you shot him first."
"They're lying. Look at the body."
"His name was Jesús. Jesús Nevarro."
"Look at his body. He has one bullet hole in his head. I have one bullet hole in my arm. My shot killed him. He couldn't have lived long enough to return fire. He shot me first."
"Maybe you shot yourself so you could get off."
He was still way too close. I didn't want to breathe, he smelled so disgusting. I gave him a look that showed clearly just how little I thought of him and his idiotic plans to incarcerate me against the law. Jack couldn't help me; due to some sort of unknown history with the sheriff he was forbidden to come into the station. Blacker's arm snaked out and seized mine where I'd been shot an hour ago, and I hissed involuntarily with the pain.
"I don't care what you have to say. I'm the law in these here parts, cabroncito, and I will put you away like you deserve."
It was senseless to argue with him. He was going against the law and being a complete bastard. He wouldn't change. He hated me. With a final squeeze of my arm and one last smirk he pulled away, wiping the blood from his fingers onto my once-white shirt. My glare didn't relent as he eased his massive frame back in the rickety chair. I tried not to think about the creepy look he was giving me and where I'd seen it before.
"I think I'll give you no chance of bail and a court date for a year from now. That's the best scum-sucking murderers like you deserve, you know."
I still said nothing, and it was only a few moments before his face contorted with fury at my lack of reaction and he smacked me, back-handed, across the face. I turned back to him, glaring, pretending I couldn't feel the thin trail of blood slide down from where his hideous ring cut my cheek. He walked swiftly around the desk and pulled me out of the chair by my hair.
"Well, no sense staying here. Let's show you to your room, shall we?"
He laughed; a stupid, donkey-esque laugh that nauseated me to the point where I was actually relieved when he finally threw me into the cell and walked away, even though he left the handcuffs on.
Of course, that feeling wore off in about five minutes.
Nobody knew Duo. He was white, and even though he shared his ethnicity with Sheriff Blacker that didn't mean his coloring helped. In fact, Blacker was a hypocrite who only trusted Mexicans.
So how he managed to come into the station a few hours later to see me was beyond my imagination. By that point I didn't really care, I was just happy to see someone who wasn't about to spit their tobacco juices at me and call me creatively incomprehensible names in a combination of Spanish and English.
"Why are you still here?" Duo demanded angrily the moment he came into sight.
"I don't know. You should ask them."
"I did. Not only does their reasoning suck, but it's illegal."
"I know."
"They can't keep you here."
"Well, here I am."
He sighed and leaned his head against the bars. I blinked, watching him from my spot on the floor.
"I'll just have to bust you out, like old times."
"You can't, not without repercussions."
"No, they can't touch me. They weren't supposed to touch you. It was a clear case of self-defense."
"His friends testified…"
"They're lying assholes. They had so many holes in their respective stories it was just pathetic."
I eyed him suspiciously, "How'd you get the report?"
He grinned, produced a lock pick from inside his hair, and started working on the lock to the cell. It popped complacently open after a few seconds.
"Disgusting." Duo announced, favoring the lock with a look of disappointed revulsion. Duo stood expectantly in the open doorway for a moment, "well?"
I sighed, drew my legs in and tilted myself onto my feet. It was kind of awkward without the use of my hands. I earned a confused look from Duo as he strode across the cell towards me.
"Those fuckers!" He exclaimed as he caught sight of the handcuffs before quickly popping the locks on them. It was marvelous to stretch my cramped arms and rub circulation back into my hands. When I glanced back at Duo he was livid.
"This isn't fair."
"Nothing is." I replied softly. He stared at me, his face set.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go."
--end chapter one--
trucizna's miniature dictionary of enlightenment and multiculturalism, chapter one:
un chico guapo—a handsome boy
La navidad—Christmas
Gringo—foreigner, namely from the USA and who speaks poor Spanish.
El Rey—a fictional town.
Cuernavaca—a real town.
Cabroncito—little bastard.