Domestic Enemies by Matthew Bracken

Author:Matthew Bracken
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780972831024
Published: 2006-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

23

He was deep inside a forest. It was a world of dark shadows and radiant sunbeams. The sun’s rays were painfully bright when they struck him in the face. He tried to move, but his feet were stuck. He looked down, and saw only rough brown bark, the skin of a tree growing twenty or more feet straight into the ground. He tried to look at his watch to check the time, but he could not move his arm, which was a rigid tree branch, extending straight out from his side.

With no warning, he simultaneously heard and felt a bang, then another bang, and another! Suddenly he realized that his mortal enemy, the woodcutter, had discovered him. His enemy was down behind him where he could not turn to see, chopping into his lower back with a heavy axe! Bang! Another deep cut was hacked into his defenseless wooden body. Bang! Another deep chop. How many more, until he went over? Bang! Then he both heard and felt the fatal cracking and splitting, the world tilted away under him, and he was going down, down, down!

Basilio Ramos tried to open his eyes, but they were sticky with some kind of crusty gunk. With effort he managed to partially open one eye, but the other was jammed hard against whatever he was lying on. Gradually his waking consciousness came sifting back into his mind, and the tree once again became the man. He was lying face down on a bed, his left arm thrust out stiff, asleep, paralyzed.

That God-awful banging continued. Banging on his bedroom door. A familiar voice yelled, “Comandante! Comandante! Are you there? Are you inside?”

Christ! What time was it? For that matter, what day was it? What country was it? “Yes, I’m here,” he croaked.

“Comandante, do you wish to reschedule the staff meeting?”

Oh, goddamn it all to hell! He’d slept through his own staff meeting! What time was it? His Rolex watch was on his right wrist, he had to force his head to turn all the way over, but without his temporarily useless left arm to help raise himself. His face turned through the sheets toward the right, and—oh my God in heaven! What in the name of all damnation?

He was not alone in bed. Next to him was a man, a bald and bearded man with a blue-black face! Ramos recoiled away, but he was hindered by his still useless left arm, extended straight out, anchoring him in place.

That voice again! “Comandante, are you all right?”

He coughed, cleared his throat, and struggled to speak. “Yes, yes, I’m fine! Now, go away!”

“But what about the staff meeting?”

The staff meeting! ¡Maldito hijo de puta! “Ahh, the staff meeting is cancelled today. No—make it later. I’ll be at the Academy at…noon.” He tried to think, but his mind refused to function. Noon? What time was it now? Was midday too soon? Think! Later…best to make it later… “No! At one. One in the afternoon, is that clear?”

“Sí, Comandante, very

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