Back then, ten days ago, he’d had time. He’d expected help. His people? Surely they knew where he was. They’d track him down. They were the fucking best, for God’s sake. Now?
Bodie studied the skies as the sun started to flatten across the horizon. At least, what he could see of the horizon. Not much, unless he climbed onto one of the low buildings’ roofs. Which was also permitted. Trouble was, at night the roofs offered a kind of pecking order. If you wanted to go up there you had to be prepared to fight.
Bodie stuck to the streets, surviving. Outlandish sounds filled the steadily falling night. Screams and howls and the sound of gunfire. A man chuckling incessantly. A woman groaning in pleasure. The whispered persuasions of incessant drug use.
And yet above, the whole sky was free. People on the other side of those walls looked upon that same sky, shared that same breeze. Bodie made his way back to the area he’d deemed safer than anywhere else, pushing a coughing man out of the way and threading through a group of unwashed, stinking youths. Nobody gave ground here, you put your head down and barged through.
Like London in the summer, he thought. Or Paris every day.
The men he’d grown used to looked up as he passed them by. No recognition, no nods or smiles. They didn’t want to be associated with him and he hardly blamed them. Two men had set about him on the second day, for no obvious reason. Bodie had showed them the error of their ways, without injuring them permanently. He wouldn’t do that anymore.
Always the smoother road. Always the softer option.
A man that had seen the effects of the misery he wrought always faced a point of no return. Continue, and fall without end. Or change your ways, adapt, and try to win.
Bodie chose the latter. But that wasn’t about to help him in here.
Men shifted. Men groaned. A young woman walked by, long skirts sweeping the filthy floor. A young boy slept curled up in the outer corner of a doorway. Bodie sat down on a set of steps, concrete to his back, a wide space in front of him. Any man or woman, jailed, faced the intense mental stress of having to be ready at all times. Of having to watch for enemies — every minute, every second. Bodie knew you could develop a certain mindset — a sixth sense of sorts. You could even sleep. But you had to be prepared to do damage at the slightest advance, the smallest provocation. You had to make them believe it wasn’t worth bothering you.
Here, now, the rules were different. Take the four inmates approaching for instance. In most civilized prisons, they’d be locked away, wearing prison uniform, closely guarded. Here they wore jeans and torn T-shirts, had heavy boots and carried weapons. Bodie rose quickly, now embracing the solitariness as those close to him scurried away. In a matter of seconds he summed up an odd situation.
These men were Mexican locals. They didn’t know him. Hellhole — as he’d decided to refer to the prison — was merely a place for him to die and disappear. Somebody had taken a contract out on him.
“Hey guys,” he began. “You speak English? Ingles?”
Two looked blank, but two more met his eyes and slowed. “I do,” one said with a heavy accent. “You pay me thousand extra I make it quick, not slow like we were told.”
“Who told you to make it slow?” Bodie stayed put, mimicking them. No point being antagonistic.
“The Boss.” A shrug. “El Jefe.”
“Ahh.” Bodie smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. El Jefe told you to make it slow. And who told El Jefe?”
The men all exchanged a glance and then a laugh. “Nobody orders El Jefe.”
“Sure they do.” Bodie knew the fight was coming and had already evaluated all four men, the surroundings and any objects he might use. When they stared in bewilderment he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“Money talks.”
He tried a new tack. “You ever heard the name Jack Pantera? He’s my old boss. He’ll set you up.”
But they looked to be done talking. Bodie readied himself, but then the biggest of the four stopped and stared hard.
“Man,” he whispered in awe. “Are those teeth real? ’Cause, if not, I’m gonna have me a new set.”
Bodie grinned wider. “Bask in the light, asshole. Bask in the light.”
He was moving even as he spoke, using the environment to fight as he used it every time he carried out a new job. You could use the environment for all manner of purposes — it consistently gave out golden nuggets — but today he employed it for added confusion. First, he targeted the big guy, moving in and dancing away, leaving three fast strikes in his wake. He tried to jerk the length of metal pipe from the man’s hand, but the meaty paw held on tight. The body did spasm hard though, wracked with pain.
Bodie used the steps to get some height, then jumped and came down on top of the next man, landing an elbow atop the shaven skull. The man’s nervous system screamed, sending him to his knees. Bodie would have liked to finish him there and then, but didn’t have the time. The other two were already upon him and the big guy was recovering fast. Bodie used the fallen man, thrusting off his bent back to gain momentum. A simple punch to the throat became a wicked strike and the third man fell clutching and gasping.
The fourth man hit him hard, but Bodie expected that. You didn’t get out of a low-odds skirmish like this without taking some damage. Somehow he smothered the baseball bat that the guy swung, taking a hit on the forearm but diverting the main force of the blow. The bulk of the man still hit hard though, leading with the shoulder, smashing Bodie backward and almost off his feet. Here again, though, Bodie knew what was behind him. No trip hazards, no hard corners, just a flat wall. Bodie hit it, feigned an injury, looked punch-drunk, and then slipped away just as the attack came in. The baseball bat struck concrete, clanging, its wielder overbalanced. Bodie stepped around, delivered two elbows and a kidney punch, and sent the man sliding down.
Bodie relieved him of the bat.
The big guy was back now, along with the one Bodie had skull punched. The metal bar whistled down and Bodie parried it with the bat, fencing now. The bar came again. Bodie deflected it at the ground, then stood on the ragged end. The big guy ended up staring him in the face, almost point blank.
Bodie flashed the smile.
“I’m gonna pull ’em out one by one.” The metal bar fell, muscles flexed, and Bodie was pulled into a bear hug. The spare man grinned at that, stepped back as if to say “well, that’s that then. Nobody ever survived one of those.” Bodie could believe it. The breath was forced quickly from his body. The nerves around his ribcage flashed warning. Pain like fire exploded inside his head. Something was creaking inside, and he didn’t like to imagine what it might be.
The giant’s lips were crushed to his ear.
“Ish end fer youuu.” Barely intelligible, Bodie caught the drift. It was time.
The small shiv he’d bought paid for itself. Letting it fall into his hand he drove the razor blade up again and again, perforating the giant three, four, five times and making his eyes widen, his strength ebb away.
“Fooled you.” He spoke as the third man’s face fell in disbelief.
Big guy fell. Now, Bodie knew this had to end fast. His own strength was failing; his element of surprise was gone. Skipping past the third man, he brought the baseball bat down hard on top of the second man’s skull, the one he’d throat-punched. Spinning, he flung the bat hard and caught Third Man across the cheekbone, sending him sprawling. Fourth Man was just climbing back to his feet, using the wall, when Bodie cracked him across the back of the neck, wincing as the crack of broken bone split the night.