Page 91 of Capo
Suddenly it’s quiet. Nothing happens. I shift between my feet as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I need to do something!
Minutes tick by. We all flinch when the silence is brutally interrupted by a slam, and the sound of something breaking.
“Chloe Becker!”
The voice is rough, with a heavy accent that I recognize from the assailants and nausea shoots up in me. It’s a Russian. Luci sent me all the way here, but they found me anyway.
“We will burn this village to the fucking ground and everybody in it! I know you’re here. Show yourself, whore of Salvatore!”
He spits out the last words and they hit me to the core. My stomach plummets. These people are pissed. Did Luciano attack? Are they here for revenge?
A loud slam makes me jerk, glass breaks, then a roar, a sound unlike any I’ve ever heard before. A flickering, orange light shines in through the cracks between the wall boards.
“I gotta get out there!”
Alessandra grabs my arm and holds me in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’ll get yourself killed!”
“They’re burning the houses! I can’t let them!” I tear myself free and dart out through the door opening. “Stay!” I hiss. “Be ready!”
Pulling off my blouse, I toss it on the ground before I also pull off my skirt, letting it fall. Men are stupid and fucking easy to distract. My body is my only real weapon. In nothing but a tight, white top and lacy panties, I run toward the noise. “I’m here! I’m here, you fuckers!” Further down the alley, I come to an abrupt stop when two large, blond men in beige camo clothes come sauntering around the corner. They’ve got semi-automatics slung over their shoulders and guns on their hips. If they have even the slightest clue how I look, they know I’m the one they’re looking for. I stand out like a sore thumb with my blonde hair and fair skin in this country of black-haired people. My heart thumps hard as I walk toward them, one slow step at a time.
“What do you want?” I shout across the distance.
“We’ll make him suffer! We will kill you slowly, suka, cut you up, make new holes to fuck you in!”
Raw fear almost makes my knees fold and I stagger. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I have no doubt it’s an insult directed to a woman. “The hell you will!” I shout back.
They look me over, from top to toe as they approach. “Who’s gonna stop us?” they spit. “A woman?” They both laugh.
I swallow hard, then I turn and run, back toward the shed. Slipping in the mud, I fall face first. Crawling, twisting, and flailing, I push to my feet. With the two monsters hot on my heels I dart into the darkness. “Be ready!” I gasp. Grabbing an axe, I join the others who are hiding on either side of the door, and behind a box, crouching out of sight. When I hear their footsteps in the door opening, I step forward, putting the axe behind my back. “You can go fuck yourselves!” I spit on the floor before their feet, then I use my free hand to rip my top apart, showing off even more of my boobs, hidden only by a practical, white bra. “Come take me then!”
They shoot forward with a growl, their faces twisted in sickening, leery grimaces. I cut the women behind them a short glance, then I raise my axe and let it swing, hitting the closest man on his shoulder. I’m strong, but he’s tall and the axe is heavy. He yells and grabs for his gun, the other man throws himself back, right into the arms of six, primitively armed women, defending our rights not to be violated, not to have our homes burnt or our lives threatened. Axes arc through the air, shovels are swung, pruners stab. Everyone is screaming, growling, crying, and hooting. The cacophony is deafening, the sounds of slaughter sickening. Two shots are fired aimlessly, hitting no one. The final screams are loud and shrill, they are the screams of death, then the attackers go down.
No one stops. We could grab their weapons and finish them off, but the bloodlust we all share has changed us into a ravaging pack of vengeful beasts, the adrenaline chasing off all rationale.
Finally, one after the other, we go still, quiet down. Wiping sweat and blood off our faces, we stand in a circle around the two chopped up Russians. One of the women speaks and then spits on them.
“What’s she saying?” I pant.
“Not worthy to get a grave. We can feed them to the dogs,” says Alessandra.
One of the younger women staggers back, turns and then throws up violently. Two others care for her as the rest of us still study the mayhem.
“I hope that was all there were,” I say. “Oh my God! The fire!”
Alessandra jolts into action and gestures for us to come with her. We all run down the alley, toward the square, meeting the men who have finally arrived. One of the women falls to her knees and wails. A boy comes darting and crouches next to her, throwing his arms around her. I’m guessing it’s her house that is being engulfed in the blaze. It’s a horrifying, and deeply saddening, sight to watch someone’s home go down in flames. There’s nothing to save. The hate in me grows, multiplies, raising a rage that makes me want to scream. If we hadn’t killed them already, I’d do it again, and again.
A drop of rain hits my hand. Then another. The sky is overcast, black and heavy, fitting the somber mood. The drops turn to a drizzle, and then the sky opens. The boy helps the woman stand and leads her toward another building. The rest of us throw our hands over our heads and run for shelter.
“This is good,” shouts Alessandra. “It will kill the fire!”
“It will also set off more landslides!” I shout back.
She groans and then we’re inside, soaked and shuddering. “You have a terrible climate,” I mutter.
“You have terrible enemies,” says Alessandra. Her usual mirth is gone and my chest clenches with worry.
“Are you okay?”