Chapter Nineteen - Tyler
We’re headed west. The winter sun is already starting to set and it’s not even five o’clock. I don’t think. I don’t have a watch and the battery on my fucking phone is dead. There’s a clock in the Defender but I tried to change it when Daylight Savings Time ended, and I think I managed to set it to Tokyo time somehow.
Fancy fuckin’ car.
But I’m pretty good about tracking time, and I’ve been counting in my head to keep myself focused, and it feels like we’ve been driving just about three hours or so. It would seem that I’ve been doing a good enough job of keeping my distance from the truck that I haven’t called attention to myself. Or, if I have, Ricky DEA has chosen to ignore it. No way to know which, I guess. There was one moment where it sped up a little, which made me think they might be trying to lose me, but then it pulled over at a gas station and Logan hopped out and ran to the little boys’ room.
The whole time, there was no movement in the back. I kept willing Maddie to throw the tarp off and jump out and then I’d grab her and we’d make a break for it, but there’s no way for her to know that I’m still here, I suppose. The idea of her pressed up against this Carlos fuckweed for all this time has got me seething, but I’m keeping it together. He must really be scared of whoever he thinks is after him if he’s willing to lie in the back of that busted-ass ride for this long. Of course, Maddie is there cushioning the trip for him, but… Nope. Not gonna fucking go there. Stop. Head in the game.
Speaking of gas stations, I hope to hell we get where we’re going soon, otherwise I might just run dry. The gauge is sitting right on fucking empty. All in, I’ve driven damn near seven hours today. I’m actually impressed I’m still going. It’s a nice car and all, but it ain’t no hybrid, that’s for damn sure.
There’s a sign just up ahead. Ensenada.
And now I can see a huge Mexican flag coming into view right at the edge of the water where the final streaks of light from the setting sun are being cast off the ocean.
The flag is gigantic. Towering over the city like a watchman. There’s a harbor and a cruise ship all decorated with Christmas lights. Maybe it’s just because I was in the Navy and I have a “been there, done that” attitude about being on the sea, but I hate cruise ships. And I really can’t imagine going on a fucking cruise for a holiday vacation, stuck with a bunch of jerkoffs in madras shorts, being coerced into forced frivolity. But right now, comparatively, I’d take Maddie, a piña colada, and shuffleboard in a second over the bullshit we’re into.
The truck turns left up ahead, and I follow. It’s dark enough now that I should turn on my headlights, but I don’t know if that’d call more attention to me, so I leave them off. The whole time my eyes are fixed on the gas gauge. The mileage meter told me that I was going to run out of fuel about fifteen miles ago and I don’t know how much of a reserve this thing has built in, so I’m just keeping my nuts crossed that we’re almost to wherever ‘there’ is. And then, mercifully, once again, as if willed by the Christmas gods, unto me is delivered news of great motherfucking joy.
The truck pulls up to a guard gate right along the beach. There’s a long, tall, brick wall that runs parallel to the ocean, spanning easily a mile or more in either direction from the guard station. Looks like a fancy gated community. A private beach probably, only for the rich assholes who live beyond its walls.
I don’t know why I’m so hung up all of a sudden on the fact that Carlos is rich. Because who cares? But it’s not that he’s got money that’s bothering me. It’s how he got it and what he does with it and how he uses his money and power to serve himself only.
I guess it bugs me because in some ways he reminds me of another selfish, rich asshole I know.
And as soon as we’re out of this clusterfuck, I want to talk to Maddie about doing something good too. Something that means something. Just like how she signed onto this because it was important for her to do something meaningful so she can move forward with her life, I want to do that also. And I want us to do it together.
And I’m fully aware that there’s a chance she’ll be pissed as all hell at me for showing up here in the first place (I’m not a kid, Tyler! I had everything under control!) but there are other ways she can move forward and still do good. Ways that don’t involve imminent mortal peril. She’s sacrificed enough if you ask me. And, while I have zero idea how I can contribute value to the world, I’m sure there are ways.
But I want us to figure out what those things are as a unit, as a team, because I never want her to be away from me like this again. Not if there’s another option. New Year’s is right around the corner, and even though I’ve never made a resolution before—because I’ve always known I was just gonna break them, so why bother?—this year it feels like it’s worth it to try. And even though I realize that resolving to be a better person than a murdering drug trafficker is a pretty low bar… you gotta start somewhere.
This is what’s running through my head as the Defender’s engine whines and gasps, trying to force one more drop of gasoline to combust into forward-moving energy. But it can’t. There’s no more left. The car wheezes and coughs one last time, and then sputters finally to a stop.
It’s pretty well dark now, and there aren’t really any other cars that I can see. Presumably, most people are home with their families putting presents under trees and lying to their kids about Santa Claus and shit. But I can’t risk someone coming along and finding me or it, so I need to get it off the road. I throw it in neutral, hop out, and push this heavy bastard into the overgrowth on the other side of the street. It’s harder than I thought it’d be. That roll cage adds some serious weight. Fuckin’ roll cage.
Now. How best to breach the wall that protects whatever’s on the other side? I could try and scale it, but it’s tall, it’s stone, and I’m not Batman. So that’s out. I could also try and survey how far it runs along each side and determine if there are any possible access points, but the shit seriously looks like it goes on forever and I also risk exposing myself.
Think. Think.
And that’s when I hear the ticking sound of the Defender’s cooling and exhausted engine, and I have an idea. It’s not the best idea I’ve ever had. It’s dangerous, unpredictable, arguably excessive, and could very well make things worse. But unless I figure out how to get inside there, I won’t know how bad things are for Maddie over that wall, and not knowing or being able to do anything about it seems worse. So. Fuck it.
I grab my rucksack out of the back and pull out the t-shirts I have stuffed in there. I toss them onto the front seat. Then I gather up some dried palm branches and other foliage that’s laying around on the ground and throw that on top of the shirts.
I have an eerie moment of déjà vu, thinking back to Halloween. The night I set my apartment on fire. This is different, of course. I was a bit out of my mind then and I had just discovered that Maddie was Maddie and that she pretty much hated my guts, and it seemed like my life was ending and so I kind of went insane. Setting my place on fire was a reaction to everything that was happening that night.
This, on the other hand, is a decisive action that I’m taking to rescue Maddie now that we’ve declared our love for each other and we plan to be together. Because that’s what lovers do. Shit, that’s just what decent friends do. They show up for the other no matter what, and they’re there when they’re needed. When the time comes, they’re the one person you can count on. The one who has your back. I’ve had that illuminated for me over these last couple of months with startling, hi-def clarity.
And that’s what this is that I’m doing now. It’s decent. It’s romantic. It’s needed. And it’s totally, totally sane.
Right?
Anyway.
I go to the back of the car again and lift the mat that covers the spare tire and roadside emergency kit. I grab up the kit, open it, and pull out the two road flares that are inside. I take a breath, looking at my car. There’s a moment of wistful nostalgia. A few weeks ago I didn’t even want a car, but now I’m kind of attached to it. Not because of the car itself, but because… because it’s one of the first things Maddie and I talked about, back when she was Scarlett and I was just jabbering to her. Because it’s what I was driving the night I found her running from Logan and Ricky in the alley behind Pete’s. Because… shit, because of the thing Raven said to me when she was giving me advice about how to handle my situation with Maddie. Your car, she said. It’s a Defender, right?
But, hell. Now Pete’s is gone. And so is Pete, for that matter. And Maddie’s Maddie, not Scarlett. And I’m me, not fuckin’ Ford Aston. (Heh. I still chuckle every time I think about the fact that that’s the name I came up with. “Ford Aston.” Ha. As if.) And the simple truth is that nobody gets what they want in life without paying a price. Everything comes at a cost.
It’s been that way since the beginning of time. Adam and Eve wanted to eat the apple, but the price they had to pay is that paradise was taken from them. And if that myth is true (and hell, it’s Christmas Eve, so if we’re gonna buy into a friggin’ virgin birth, then Adam and Eve is no more implausible) then we’ve all been paying for their fuck-up ever since. And that is an expensive goddamn toll to ante up for.
So, I guess if—in order to get Maddie back in my arms—I gotta torch a Land Rover Defender that I paid five hundred thousand dollars for… Well. While it stings a little, it really ain’t nothing compared to all that other shit.
I pop the top off one road flare, ignite it, toss into the car, and then do the same with the other.
If you set it right, a car can go up in flames pretty goddamn fast. They don’t really explode though. When I see that in a movie, I usually roll my eyes. Because it just ain’t likely to happen. Unless, of course, there’s a flammable metal or some other explosive component involved. Like magnesium. If a car has magnesium components, boom. Huh. I don’t know if mine does, when I stop to think of it. This could turn into a much bigger deal than I’m anticipating. But… only one way to find out.
What’s guaranteed is that the dampeners that hold the hood and tailgates and stuff will absolutely explode and blow shit off the car. The wheels will explode too. And that’s what I’m expecting to happen first.
After I toss the flares, I throw on my pack and hoof it out of the way as fast as I can, trying to position myself where I can see the guards. I’m maybe a thousand feet away at this point. Just under a quarter of a mile or so. And when they hear the gunshot-like sound of the tires exploding, they should come running. Again, this plan is unpredictable, dangerous, possibly excessive, and may not result in anyone being pulled away from a guard gate to investigate shit. I have no idea. But I’m fucking in it now. So I wait.
The interior goes up in flames really fast, as expected. Leather burns quickly. It’s just skin, after all. And skin burns pretty fast when it’s all lit up.
I know.
There’s a nice, toasty, marshmallow-roast-sized inferno baking away when I see that the flames have spread up inside the interior panel, because I can clock smoke and a hint of fire peeking out from under the hood now.
And in under a minute…
Pow. The hood supports blow and the hood slams up, cracking the windshield. And that actually seems to have been loud enough to draw some attention. Two guys who I guess are community guards, even though they’re not dressed in uniforms or anything, step out to the road and crane their necks to see what’s going on. This is encouraging.
And then the tires explode.
Holy shit!
I was not expecting it to be that loud. Nor was I expecting the Defender crashing down to make the squealing noise it does. But it sure as shit gets the job done. The two guys come running in the direction of the fire, which is now burning enough to be seen from where they are. One of them grabs up a walkie-talkie and shouts something in Spanish and suddenly two more guys are running out in the direction of the fire, too.
Looking through the binoculars, I can see no one manning the gate anymore, so I decide this is my shot. I gotta get in there and see if I can find the truck and hopefully find Maddie. But when I go to take my first step, I find it hard to will my legs to move. Fuck. Please, not again. Not now. Don’t do this to me. I have no idea how long these dudes will be away before they run back to get a fire extinguisher or call for reinforcements or whatever. I have to go now.
So I close my eyes and I think of Maddie’s face. Underneath me. Smiling. Telling me she loves me. And in a second, that image gives way to an almost too-soon forgotten lifetime of memories. Scotty, Maddie, me. All jumbling together and cascading over one another.
And I take that first step.
It feels like I’m running through molasses or quicksand, but I’m moving. And as the memories tumble past, faster and faster, my gait gets faster too. And before I know it, I’m in a full sprint and tearing past the unmanned gate at the entrance to see…
Are you kidding me?
Wow. It’s not a private community.
I mean it is, but…
Jesus.
Fucking Carlos Castillo.