Very few of the passed out/sleeping Mexicans noticed their arrival and those who did, acknowledged them and ignored the bandages, ran a quick eye over the women, then averted their gazes. Word had also spread about the black brothers, and despite their long absence, now was clearly a bad time to draw their attention. Even the camp mutts, starving mixes of indecipherable origins, shied from them, and their menacing air.
Dean and Dillan walked around the back of the dirty camp, past the reeking, rusted semis. They shoved the cringing captives into the back of an empty one, locking them in. These were the holding pens for slaves, and there was no guard. Those already broken had no courage left to run, and those who were fresh wouldn't make it far before every man in camp was on them. A loose slave was fair game.
With their noses full of the holding cells' decay and the harsh odor of gasoline, the twins headed for the center of the muddy, stinking camp, certain they would find the leader there. His tent would be surrounded by his men so that if they were attacked, he wouldn't be hit first. Cesar was smart, ruthless; and exactly what they needed.
The grungy green tent was indeed in the middle and it was one of only a few dozen vinyl shelters. Most of the men preferred the open sky above them after years of not seeing it at all from federal detention centers. It was also a lot easier to just wrap up in a blanket and sleep under a big truck.
From outside Cesar's tent, the twins could see the Loveland, Colorado skyline, lit up with flames and thick, black smoke. Their eyes were drawn to the charred frame of the hulking jumbo jetliner resting in a thicket of piñon trees to the right of the burning town. Backdropped by a muddy, devastated landscape, covered in inches of reddish, ill-looking dust, the crushed plane was still more unbelievable than the destroyed city.
Loud snores were just audible over dogs yelping, women crying, and the pop of neglected campfires, but there was an instant silence as the twins slid inside the center lean-to…and then the sound of a gun being cocked.
"Who ees there?"
The smells of sex, blood, and violence mixed badly with the cigar smoke in the dark tent, and the cautious brothers stayed in the shadows so that there was no clear shot.
Their dark eyes lingered on the naked teenager chained to the center pole of the filthy tent like a dangerous, white dog. She was curled into a ball against it, showing a body they immediately wanted.