The Savage by Frank Bill

Author:Frank Bill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

COTTO

What he remembered was how blood dripped from Raúl’s hand as though it were wax being heated. Perspiration peppered his lips and eyes. His back pressed into the chair. Hands cuffed behind him. Discomfort was his posture.

Cotton cleaved tight over his chest with spots of wet. Manny had kicked the table out of the way. Stood before Raúl. Service revolver down his front. Cotto fanned off to the side, holding the wallet in his left, weight of the antique Colt in his right, watching his father.

Paling in his face and arms, the puddle from his missing thumb behind him, Raúl tells Manny, “You … you’re making a mistake, señor.”

Like Manny, Cotto would never conceive, why? Why had Kabeza left before Cotto and his father to meet this piece of filth without them? Excitement? Some unknown surprise for them? He’d never know, and his father told Raúl, “You made one the second you forced your will upon my wife.”

Raúl laughed. “It was not me.”

“Then who?”

“I left her with the other coyotes waiting for you and your boy to show up. To transport you across the border. To the drop, then to a safe house.”

Manny palmed the revolver from his waist. Stepped toward Raúl, parted his lips with the barrel that scuffed against the upper enamel. Asked, “How do I find these men who’ve wronged me?”

Trying to speak into the bored-steel opening, Raúl told him, “It’s not that simple, he—”

Manny thumbed the hammer back. The cylinder revolved. Raúl’s eyes veered to the lead shapes. And stammered, “He … he … they…”

Cotto watched his father smirk. Saw a glare prism in Manny’s vision. His father had crossed over to his old trade of being. Of survival. Manny stepped back. Smiled. “He? They? What? What? Speak or I shall remove that soft muscle you use for tasting.”

Raúl’s complexion wrinkled. “They.” He hesitated again.

“They what, are on their way to here for a pickup?” Manny pointed the pistol at Raúl’s left knee. “Tell me, Raúl, or I let one of our friends free.”

Raúl shook his head. “No. No.”

Indexing the trigger, Manny pierced everyone’s ears. Laced the air with gun smoke. Cotto dropped the wallet and pistol. Pressed his hands to his ears. Watched the denim of Raúl’s leg cauliflower. Knee cartilage and blood flinted and dispersed. Raúl screamed, “Son of a bitch! Okay. Okay. His name … his name … it is the Ox. He … he.”

“He what, you piece of shit?” Manny demanded.

“… will be here tonight with his men. He is the one.”

“The one what?”

“That did to your wife the awful that you speak of.”

Pressing the pistol barrel into the splayed wound, Manny demanded, “And he and his men have walkers to transport from here?”

Cotto shook. Lowered his hands. Kneeled to the floor. Grabbed the pistol. Stood up. Looked at Raúl, who was gritting with perspiration and answered, “Sí, sí. From here, from here.”

“Where are you hiding them?” Cotto questioned as he glared down at the planks of floor. Then back to Raúl. His eyes locked hard on Manny’s.

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