Page 15 of Wick
"Who did this?"
"She was being…" His excuse cut short when Cortez throws his hand in the air.
"Who?" he demands.
"Mateo, sir." Benito gives up the name of his soldier.
While looking nowhere else but my face, Cortez says without one ounce of humanity. "Kill him."
Again, my eyes shift to the face of Benito. Without hesitating, Benito pulls his weapon from the hostler strapped to his thigh, raises his arm, points to another man wearing a mask, and pulls the trigger. For a split second I don't blink, stunned by the coldness of it all, and the fact the man accused not once tried to defend his action or plead for his life, as his knees buckle and his lifeless body falls to the floor.
Cortez continues to stare at me, ignoring the commotion behind him as men carry off their murdered comrade. "Let's begin, shall we?" His lips lift in a sinister grin. "Which one of you is the leader of this unit?" His hands fold behind his back, and his icy eyes finally look away from me.
"I am." Cowboy quickly admits. I want to look at him but catch sight of Benito glaring my way, and my stubborn streak taking over, I narrow my eyes, giving him a go-to-hell look of my own.
"Good. I like the fact that you are taking responsibility for your men." Cortez stops walking, and once again turns his attention on me. "And woman." He continues walking, pacing slowly back and forth in front of us as he pulls a cigar from the inside of his suit jacket. Stopping, one of his men strikes a lighter. Tilting his head back, Cortez blows out a plume of smoke. "Start with the one on the end," he orders his men, and my stomach falls as two of the masked men begin beating on Preacher. "Tell me who you are working for, and I'll end his suffering."
The struggle I feel inside is the same battle I notice written on Cowboy's face as they continue their assault on Preacher.
They are relentless as they beat him with their bare hands; beating him for what feels like forever until a final blow to the side of his head renders him unconscious.
Unfazed and seemingly bored with the outcome, Cortez looks down at the gold watch on his wrist. "Have my wife and child waiting for me when I arrive," he informs Benito as he stands from the corner of the desk he was sitting on as he watched the show. "My apologies for leaving you so soon, but I must join my family for dinner. I hope you take this time to contemplate your future choices. Tomorrow is a new day—a fresh start. For your sake, let's hope you make the right decision." His last words are a warning before he gives a final nod to the men staying in the room, and he takes his leave.
While under the watchful eyes of four armed men, I turn my head while trying to lean forward to catch a glance at Preacher to make sure he's okay.
Being the closest to Preacher, Thor speaks low so that others won't hear our conversation from across the room. "He's still breathing."
Several men carrying large troughs and large amounts of bagged ice enter the room. Racking my brain, I try to put together what is going on until the troughs are slid in front of us, our boots and socks are removed from our feet, and we are instructed to step into them. Welded to the edges are eye hooks. Going down the line, starting with me, they run ropes through the eye hooks and bind each leg to the inside of the tubs. Those bags of ice are then used to fill the containers, covering our feet up to our shins—the final steps taken by pouring a couple of gallons of water over the cubes of ice.
Once every masked man has gone, the lights go out, leaving us in the dark. Sensitive to the cold, I almost immediately begin to shiver, and my skin breaks out in chill bumps. "Shit." I try to ignore the cold.
Moaning echoes through the room. "Preacher?" Cowboy calls out. "Talk to me." We wait a few seconds until we finally hear Preacher's voice.
"God doesn't want me to die today." He's quiet for a minute before chattering. "I'm so fucking cold."
"Listen up. Stay focused." I begin to shiver from the cold, while Cowboy talks. "Preacher, listen to me. Your feet are submerged in an ice bath. We all need to control our movements and breathing. Remember the meditation techniques they teach us to help us fall asleep? Use them. Take your minds somewhere else. Focus on things to block out the cold." Cowboy urges just as sharp pains radiate through my toes.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, hold it in for several seconds, before slowly releasing it. I repeat this step numerous times until time and space becomes a blurred line from the reality I'm currently living in, and one person becomes my anchor.
Malik.
I picture his smiling face. The smile I haven't seen in a long time. The one he used to grace me with every time he looked at me. Then I feel his embrace; his lips against mine. The memory so real I swear I can feel it.
Lost in my head, time drifts away from me, and I no longer feel the bitter cold, causing my body to shiver. Thoughts of Malik become my source of strength and warmth.
A bright flash of light pulls me from my coma-like state, then suddenly light floods the room. Forcing my eyes to focus, I find myself face to face with Benito. "Cortez wishes to see you," he sneers as he pulls a needle out of nowhere.
"If you put one hand on her, you sick fuck…" Thor's words are cut short when another man swings his fist, landing a sharp blow to his ribcage. With a roll of duct tape in his hand, the same guy rips a strip off. One by one, he covers Thor, Preacher, then Cowboy's mouth. Nothing they say or do changes the fact we are about to be separated. That thought alone; not knowing what will happen to them once I'm gone, causes my stomach to clench with trepidation.
"I don't need you fighting me." Benito steps closer, and I flail, trying to avoid the inevitable. "Don't worry; it won't hurt." He flicks the cap off the tip of the needle. "Much." His grin hints at something more before the needle sinks into my skin. Stepping back, he tosses the used needle into a metal trash bin nearby. Watching me, he waits.
Maybe ten minutes later, I can't tell for sure as I've become a little woozy. Benito invades my personal space. Undoing the binds, my body slumps forward across his shoulder. With my body feeling heavy and my brain foggy, I don't put up much of a struggle as he carries me up the stairs and out of the bunker. I do, however, take notice that night has fallen, and realize just how much time has passed since we were captured. As my body sways from side to side as Benito totes me, I listen to his footsteps, hearing gravel crunch beneath his boots. Fighting the effects of whatever drug he injected me with; I do my best to focus. Breathing in and out, I decide to fight. Clasping my hands together in a fist, I raise my arms high, then bring them down as hard as I can, delivering an unexpected blow to his kidney region. Losing his balance, my body slips from his hold, and I fall to the ground. Ignoring the painful landing, I scramble to my knees before quickly getting to my feet, and run.
"Oomph." A heavy weight against my back sends me flying. I catch myself by throwing my hands out in front of me, wincing at the pain as gravel tears at the flesh on my palms. Instinctively, I begin fighting my attacker again. A heavy boot connects with my ribcage, not once but three times, causing me to curl into the fetal position. I'm dragged across the ground, then brought to my feet. With his hands wrapped firmly around my neck, he violently slams my body against a brick wall. Struggling to breathe, I grip his wrist, trying to pry myself free from his hold. Already weakened by the sedative, and in pain from the kicks to my ribs, the fight in me dwindles. His fingers constrict my airway more, and finally my arms fall to my sides.
"Cortez may have taken a liking to you, but I saw you first." Benito's other hand gropes my breast and bile rises in my throat. He squeezes my throat a little tighter. "I plan on taking what I want before Cortez has you." I struggle against him when his hand drops between our bodies and tries to unbutton my pants.
A gun fires.
