Page 19 of Maddy's Justice

She was lying up against a fallen tree with her face against it. Behind her, just two or three feet away, was a stand of unfamiliar trees and brush. To her right was a large area of knee-high grass. The wind was picking up and blowing from left to right.

Suddenly she heard a man’s voice speak into what must be a radio. He was on foot and because of the wind, she had not heard him walking toward her. He was standing on the other side of the log less than two feet from her.

“Anything?” she heard the man say in English which Lana spoke fairly well.

“No, nothing yet,” she heard another man reply. His voice was very familiar. It was Evan, the man from the house of horrors.

“Keep going,” she heard Evan say. “We have to find the bitch before dark.”

“Roger that,” Stan replied although Lana did not realize it was Stan Tangen. Stan was the only one who had not brutally raped her during the past few days.

Lana peeked up with her right eye and saw Stan looking past the log for her. Terrified, Lana could no longer lie still. In her right hand was a twelve-inch-long, half-inch thick piece of a tree branch. One end had a sharp point. Stan moved his head away from her to look in another direction.

“Aaaahhh!” he screamed as he looked at the stick jammed into his left leg. Stan screamed again and went down. As he was falling, Lana made her break for it.

“Don’t pull it out,” Evan said. He was kneeling in the grass next to Stan checking the wound.

“It hurts like a sonofabitch,” Stan whimpered.

“I’m sure,” Evan casually, almost indifferently, replied. “But it’s not bleeding much. If you pull it out, you may bleed to death before we can get you to a hospital on the mainland.”

“Sonofabitch,” Stan said again. “Now I have to go to a Mexican hospital. Fuck that.”

“It’s not brain surgery,” the owner said. “You got a stick in your leg.”

While they were talking, the island’s owner was still standing in the Ranger, glasses to his eyes looking for Lana.

“There!” Odessa suddenly said.

“Yeah, I see her,” the owner said.

He jumped out of his vehicle then reached in and brought out his bow.

“Joe, you and Evan get him in your vehicle and take him back,” the owner said as he prepared his bow for a shot. “Take the Citation and get him back to Tampico. There’s a clinic there who can fix that.”

“There she goes,” Odessa said when they saw Lana break cover running.

“Got her,” the owner said.

Lana was scrambling up a hill twenty-five yards from a line of trees. If she made it into the trees it would be dark before they could find her.

In one smooth motion, the island’s owner raised the bow, took one second to aim, then let fly. The distance was almost two hundred yards. The arrow covered it in under two seconds.

The razor-sharp, three-blade broadhead entered Lana’s back two inches below her shoulder blade and an inch to the left of her spine. It went completely through her and stuck in the hill. It ripped her heart to shreds and Lana was dead before she went face first into the hill.

By now, the third Ranger with Monty Kerzner and his driver had arrived. The owner told Odessa to take charge and get all of the bodies ready for disposal. The four young teenage girls, sold as sex slaves, raped, debased, and tortured, would be dumped overboard into shark infested waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

While Joe drove off with a still whining Stanley Tangen, the island’s owner turned to Evan, looked out at Lana’s body, and said, “This is why I prefer disposal here rather than my place up North. The ocean is a much more permanent solution.”

And so it went. Four young, beautiful, teenage girls, their entire lives ahead of them, traveling with determination and a wish for a better life in America. Stolen by Cartel gang members, smuggled across America’s porous southern border then sold at auction into slavery. Abused beyond description. Beaten, sexually ravaged to the point where death was preferable. These four became “game” for sick, wealthy men to hunt down for one last debasement. Murdered as if they were some nonhuman thing to be used and discarded with no more thought than a soiled Kleenex. Their nightmare finally over, the bodies would be tossed into the sea, disposed of for shark food. As if they never existed.

SEVEN

Maddy Rivers was fifteen minutes early for her interview. She had called ahead and the hostess at Artie’s café, who knew Maddy well, reserved the back booth for her. Maddy could see the entrance from her seat and was diligently watching for the woman she was meeting. She had shown the hostess the woman’s picture Maddy had taken from the firm’s website.

Maddy looked at her watch to find it was two minutes since she last checked the time. They had agreed to meet at 9:00P.M.and it was almost 9:20. Finally, much to Maddy’s relief, the woman suddenly appeared. The hostess immediately recognized her and guided her through the crowd to Maddy’s booth.

“Elena Helm,” the woman said as Maddy stood to greet her. She held out her hand and Maddy took it and noticed a very firm handshake.

---