Ballistic(74)

Court just laughed. He knew the adrenaline running through him would make him edgy for about as long as his ears rang. And after that he would crash hard.





TWENTY-NINE



Most of the surviving defenders gathered back in the living room fifteen minutes later. A crowing rooster told them the dawn was near, but the sky outside remained coal black.

Gentry stood, his hands on his hips, bloodstains drying on his denim jacket from his chest to the top of his pants. His beard sparkled with perspiration. He’d just returned from the driveway outside, where he’d found Eddie’s brother’s body lying across the front seats of the old farm truck. Wearily, he announced to the room, “Ignacio is dead.”

“He died trying to rescue us,” said Luz.

“No doubt,” Court replied, though he had every doubt in the world. A quick glance to Ernesto confirmed Gentry’s suspicion that Ignacio’s own father didn’t believe his son had gone out like a hero, either.

But neither man spoke up.

The five remaining members of the Gamboa family were huddled together on the sofa, sobbing and crying now. Ernesto seemed lost in space at this point; there were tears in his eyes, but he was not as energetic in his misery as were the rest. His wife diligently bandaged her husband’s shoulder. Ernesto just kept his chin high and ignored the pain as he gazed off into the darkened corners of the room.

Court continued with the bad news, and Elena translated for those who did not understand. “Ramses is wounded, shot twice, but he’s a tough little bastard. He’ll fight if we get hit again.” Ramses was in the kitchen just now, pouring clear tequila from a bottle all over his arm and shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, but it served as a decent anesthetic. The bandages that Elena had created by tearing bedsheets would help stanch the blood flow.

Court next looked at Laura. “Inez is dead, too. We found her in the chapel.” He paused. Tried to think of something “right” to say. “She went quick. No pain.”

Laura nodded distantly. Fatigue and shock had blunted the blow. Court noticed she did not even cry.

Court continued. “There’s more, I’m afraid. The truck is not going anywhere. It’s riddled with bullets and smashed. And . . . ”

“And?” asked Diego. He held the M1 carbine in his hand like a security blanket. He’d fired it twenty times at the man who’d been here in this room twenty minutes prior, and although there was neither a body nor a blood trail leading away from the room, Diego felt like he’d protected his family by holding off the attacker.

“And when I was outside, I heard trucks out in the distance, out past the walls of the hacienda.”

“Trucks?”

“Yes. They sounded like big armor-plated trucks.”

Laura stared through her bloodshot eyes. She understood. Nodded . “Federales.”

Court nodded. “I’m going to assume they are not friendlies. A half dozen trucks, maybe. I’m guessing there could be fifty men out there past the wall.”

Court was as shell-shocked as the rest of them. The room just seemed sucked dry of all life. As if even though de la Rocha’s people had not yet accomplished their mission, they had already killed much of the defenders’ will to survive.

Court searched his brain for a silver lining, no matter how narrow the strand. Damn, he wished he was a leader, an officer, a motivator. Fuck, just like he’d been told many times before, at this moment he felt like he was just a “door kicker.” A “breach bitch.” A “gun monkey.”

Finally, he lightened a bit. “As for good news . . . there is a little. It’s almost dawn, and I do not think they will hit us during the day. They know we have a bunch of new weapons at our disposal, and they can’t fight us from inside their armored trucks, so we have until nightfall to find a way out of this mess. We’ll come up with something.”

Not exactly the speech Patton would have made at a time like this, Court realized.

Laura shook her head. “Joe, you have not slept . . . you cannot function like—”

“I’ll be okay.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He didn’t have time to talk about how he needed a nap. “I’ve picked over the dead marines, and in addition to the sub guns, I found radios, a set of binoculars, and a mobile phone. They’ve apparently already changed their radio codes. I’ve got to figure the mobile will be tapped or traced, and the tower around here is down, but we can hang on to it. It may come in handy at some point.

They all discussed going to the U.S. for a few minutes, and then it was everyone back to their defensive positions. Court took guard duty on the back mirador, still the most likely avenue of any attack. He told Martin and Diego and Ramses and Laura to wander the house, keep an eye out all the windows as best they could, and the wounded and elderly Ernesto was ordered to lie down with Luz and Elena in the cellar. Laura gave her father a pistol to hold, to give him the honor of still taking a nominal role in the protection of his family.