Page 60 of Vice

“What a keen observation,” I drawl.

“And then you’d kill them and their kids before they could get yours and be a lifelong enemy to them and their family. Right? And it would never end.”

That’s a given.

“What are you getting at, Dele?”

“You really don’t see it?”

“I’m sure you’re having a fine conversation,” Wyan shouts from the front room. “But if you could kindly get a move on.”

“He’s right,” I say, dismissing the conversation. I’ll get to the bottom of this later. “We need to move.”

“Right,” Dele says as she puts on the rest of her gear.

When we’re done, I drag Madelyn out her chair by her arm and force her to guide us to the car she came in. A dark colored truck with a cover over it. Perfect for discarding the three bodies she thought she was going to have.

As I put her in the driver’s seat to take us to the old mine, I say, “Keep in mind, Madelyn, that I’m a very well connected man. So remember what I said. Whatever you think you have planned, I’m already ahead. By now, my assistant has already found every piece of family you might have. And if you don’t have any, everyone and everything you care for at the very least. Think about that.”

She grips the steering wheel tightly but gets the point.

I slide into the back seat with Dele while Wyan sits in the front with Madelyn. Dele is sitting stiffly next to me, looking straight ahead.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

It’s a lie. But now is neither the time nor place to figure out what I’ve done to annoy Dele now.

From the outside, the old mine looks like just that. An old mine. If not for the picture I saw of trucks and children being loaded onto the old mine rail lines, I’d have thought nothing of it. But I know it’s something. Particularly so when Madelyn drives the truck straight into the mine.

If I didn’t know this place was much more than an old mine, I’d think she was trying to cause a wreck that could cause the place to collapse around us. To take us out and her with us. But as soon as she drives inside, right over the only rail line in the rock floor, it because abundantly clear she’s not, and that this place hasn’t been a mine in a very long time.

The tunnel has been widened into a huge cavern and at the end of the cavern are huge blast style doors with three people with automatic arms at the door.

“State your business,” one says.

“Boss sent inspectors. He wants to make sure everything is going according to plan after that disaster near the New Mexican border a few months ago.”

That is, Dele trying to steal the children from him.

The guard nods. The doors open. Madelyn, Wyan, Dele, and I get out the truck and walk inside.

Though this is clearly no longer a mine, it’s barely been upgraded to be much more than that. The walls are the kind of metal that suck up all the heat when it’s hot and make a room hotter and do the same with the cold.

A man is there to greet us. He has the same demeanor about him as Pray. That is to say, he looks harmless, fatherly even, but something much more sinister lies just beneath.

“Madelyn,” he says. “It’s been a while. You didn’t tell me we would have inspectors.”

“Well, I wasn’t told either until they showed up in town. They’re here to inspect and make a report to Pray, and their credentials check out. So let’s get this on with, Randy.”

“Right,” he says and ushers us through the halls until we come to an observation window.

Randy gestures for us to walk forward and look. Dele and I do while Wyan stays behind to watch Randy and Madelyn.

As soon as I get close enough to look and peer down into the level below, I see what looks like a bunch of older teenagers gathered and wearing training uniforms and gear. Some are sitting congregated in corners laughing. Others sparring against each other. Others practicing their shooting.

“What in the fucking Russian mafia madness is this?” Dele mutters.

She’s not very far off. This definitely feels something much more Russian-esque mafia and organized crime. A bunch of fucking crazy motherfuckers who not even Pray wants to deal with but does because of the presence they do have in some important circles. I’d certainly win if I ever came across them and had to fight, but even I’d think twice about taking Russian agents head-on if I didn’t have to.

I don’t know what Pray’s intention or inspiration for this was, but it doesn’t really matter when the man is building himself some kind of cult-ish, brainwashed militia from the cradle.

Just when I thought Pray couldn’t make my life harder.

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