ASCENSION (2 page)

Nico dropped to the moss covered earth
,
unhooked his backpack
and
retreive
d
his binoculars
to
surveil the place.
T
hrough the magnified lens he saw
signs of occupancy.
One major
indication was the m
odular tubing attached to a set of pipes belong
ing
to a water
filtration system
.
He swiveled his head
to find
a point of entry
,
but with
the
overgrown plants
camouflaging the exterior he
needed
a
n up—
close
inspection. Staying low, he scampered through the trees
until he was feet from the structure
where he
sp
i
ed a
casement
window
.
He
could see the window boasted an
old
cast iron latch
–and it was
unlocked.
Yes
!

He
shoved the
binoculars
in the
backpack
,
peered up at the
fading blue
sky
and decided to
rest until
nightfall.
H
e
retreived his
knife
,
shar
pened it on the edge of a stone
in preparation,
sheathed it then sat crosslegged
on the ground
. Inside his backpack were dried fruit and enough rations for three more days. He
bought a
protein bar
in the main city, saving it
for this particular moment. Today, he could finally eat it. I
gnoring the
flying
insects flitt
ing near
his mouth
he bit hungrily into it and grinned
.

Night
arrived
and h
e lifted from the
flattened grass
, brushed the ants off his pants
then
stealthily advanced toward the
single-story building. He
reached the
outer wall and
leaned against the rough cement
listening for
sound.
The blanket of heat caused sweat to cover his neck and armpits.
He strained
to
hear
, concentrating on the sounds within,
trying to
distinguish
nocturnal
noises from those
within
the
wall
s.
The
sound
of running water and
a frightened whimper reached his
ear
s
.

A whimper?
He peer
ed
through the
grime covered
window.
A faint glow from a hall light lay a stingy film of illumination on
a
box size room. A faded sofa, an old black and white
TV
sitting on a milk crate identified this as the
living room. A
pungent foul
ness
offended
his nostrils
, yet
he saw no one.
H
is fingers pulled the double windows outward
, and
without strain
propelled himself
through
the
tight
opening.
Once inside he heard the sound of a
male voice shout, “
Shut-up you useless
bitch
!”

Repulsed,
Nico sneered.
Sadistic
men
like Freddie made his blood boil
.
He
’d
take great staisfaction in ridding the world of
the miscreant
. With other jobs he
maintained
an emotional detachment,
it kept the job clean. No internal distractions or room for error that way.
He cooled the anger and
focused.
Nico
considered himself
an expert kill
er, someone who practice
d
and excel
ed
in his craft like other occupation
s
.
With Freddie
, those skills were
being used for a humanitarian
ca
use.

At the
entry of a paint peeled
door
, he
saw what
appeared to be an old
washroom
filled with cases of canned food stacked against
a
wall. The whimper
grew
loud
er
along with
the sound of
splashing water
. His fingers
touched the door
handle
and he nudged it open a crack for a
better view
of the room. A naked
man
stood
with his back turned in front of what appeared to be a
large
sink
gripping a woman’s hair.
The water
ran at
full blast, otherwise Freddie may have heard
Nico’s approach.
Unfortunately,
when he did
notice
it was too late.

Nico’s arms clamped around Freddie’s neck
. He
yoked
the skinny man
back
ward
,
squeezed
down on
Freddie’s
trachea
with such force Freddie gurgled.
The woman was
instantly
released
and
scurried to a corner
cowering
in fear
.

Freddie’s
legs
kicked out
as oxygen
became depleted. He could not see his attacker but
knew
the man was
tall, muscular,
strong
and a technician of death
.
If he could not break the hold he’d answer in Hell for his
many
depravities
.
In a futile attempt to break
free he
kicked out
his legs
and attempted to use the sink as leverage to throw
his attacker off
balance. However, Nico anticipated this action; years of practice
in the art of death
made it so. He widened his stance and Freddie’s effort was met with stone resistance
and
intense
cr
ushing pressure to his
throat
.

Nico’s headlock technique was
impenetrable
. Fre
ddie’s body weakened
but
Nico did not relax
his muscles.
Freddie
’
s lack of mobility could be a ploy, it happened once and
he never made that mistake again.
He
pressed down harder
, l
istening for
the expulsion of
oxygen
from his victim and
watching for movement
.
T
raumatic asphyxiation occurred in stages
. They were predictable responses
;
usually
actions of a perso
n seeking to live. A natural survival instinct occurred. The victim
attempt
ed
to fight back
, followed by
f
lailng
limbs
i
n an uncoordinated effort to break loose
. Then there was
t
he flaring nostrils
and
fish like breaths
to desperately
suck in air until finally
,
the
victim’s
body went limp.

Nico
saw
it all
,
ultimately the victim succumbed.
Freddie was no exception.
Nico could have chosen a quicker death for
Freddie,
laceration of the jugular artery or a bullet to the head but
he wanted
him
to suffer. He wanted the
rabid dog
to see his entire life in
a
movie reel.
The
murder
ous
rampage
of innocent
people
in the states
;
Shanda’s kidnapping,
the attack on Luzo’s son
and
the killing of a young man without provocation
were
Freddie’s
legacy
.
T
he
re was of course a
probability
Freddie
lack
ed
a conscience or
capacity to feel guilt
.

Finally,
Freddie’s
heartbeat slow
ed
. It
beat
erratically in
a
rebellious
flutter then ceased
entirely
.
Nico
flexed hard
er
for an
extra
measure of certainty,
gripped the side of
his victim’s
head
and snapped the
neck
bone
. Freddie’s head
got
thrust into the
dirt
y water
.
Nico
unclipped his holster
to retr
iev
e
the
ornate
B
owie knife
. His eyes settled on the young woman
. I
n
Portugese
he requested she leave
but
received no response
then shouted in
Quechua
,
“G
et out of here, you do not want to see this
!”

She scampered to her feet and fled the room. She would not go far
.
The dark jungle was a dangerous place for an unarmed half-naked
young woman
. No, she would wait and travel with him, atleast then she would be safe.

Nico
gripped the tip of Freddie’s ear
then
cut
in
to cartilage
.

The hunt was finally over.

~
Es mi muerte que doy Para usted tener la vida
.~

It is my death I give, for you to have life.

-Alfonzo

“OMG
girl
,
I
have
to
fly
down
here
to see your ass.
W
hat
’
s
up with that?” Shanda
c
omplained
.

Selange took possession of
her best friend’s
oversized Luis-Vuitton
suitcase
and
nearly
stumbled under
its
weight
.
“What the hell
do
you have in this thing?” Selange
asked
good-naturedly
as they
huddled
together in the bustling
Luis Munoz Marin International Airport in
San Juan
.

T
he terminal
was alive with
activity
on this Friday afternoon
. Children and tourists moved
by
with
voices raised in
excitement.
S
everal inquisit
ive
glances
from
admirers
went
unnoticed
by the young women
.
One man watched
the reunion
from a safe distance
while canvassing
the
crowd for any dubious characters
.
The man
gl
anced at his watch then faded against a wall to make an important call to his boss.