Goddamn fucking pinche bendejo,” Ignacio shouted after banging his knee yet again on a table.
Smiling, Yolanda wrapped her arms around her sister-mother, Margarita.
“His mastery of language is quite amazing,” she said.
“I know,” her sister-mother said, patting her on the arm. “Just the other day I learned how… violent French could sound as he struggled with a can opener.”
Ignacio scowled at their commentary.
“If you ladies are done mocking me,” he managed through gritted teeth, “I could use an ice pack.”
After a quick nod from Yolanda, Margarita smiled. “Sure thing.”
“Great,” he winced, “so where’s the couch?”
“To the left,” Yolanda told him.
‘Crash! Thud!’
“Wrong left,” Margarita quickly quipped as the two pokegirls exited the room, leaving the blind boy sprawled atop the shattered remains of the table.
…
Her red fur shimmered in the cool moonlight as she carefully sniffed the stiff strip of cloth.
It was faint but there, the two traitors and her unfinished meal.
Her howl was almost a snarl in her joy.
The hunt was afoot and the reward was human.
All around her, the rest of the squad joined in her triumphant cry.
…
“Something isn’t right,” Yolanda whispered to her sister-mother.
Margarita nodded, handing an empty glass to the girl.
“I know,” she told her. “It’s the same for me as well. I feel something.”
Yolanda nodded, filling the glass from the faucet tap.
“It’s something small, growing inside us both,” Margarita continued. “It feels right, and yet it frightens me. That’s good dear.”
Yolanda looked down to see the glass of water boiling in her hands.
“Thanks,” she said handing the glass to Margarita. “What do we do?”
“The plan is still the same,” her sister-mother said. “He did help us break free of that bond, so once his eyes are in the two of us go east.”
“What about him?”
“He will die. If he doesn’t get himself killed, the patrols will.”
Margarita turned the glass upside down, and the chunk of ice slid into her hand.
“How long until his eyes are ready?” she asked her sister-daughter as she wrapped the ice in a small hand towel.
“Two more weeks,” Yolanda said evenly. “Can he handle it?”
“As long as he is in our care,” Margarita said after a pause, “he is under our protection. That is how I want to live for now. We are fighting for survival in a twisted world where nothing is sacred.”
Margarita crushed the ice in her hands.
“The real question is, can we handle it?”
…
Ignacio gave an almost idyllic sigh of relief.
“Thanks a bunch,” he told the two women.
Inwardly he was gritting his teeth, frustrated, confused, and a little unsure.
“It was my pleasure,” purred the older one, who had taken to the name Margarita.
When he had asked the both of them their names before, they had simply said a meaningless jumble of letters and numbers. It was only after his constant insistence that the two of them had insisted that he be the one to give them names instead.
They were Monsters, the things destroying the world, freaks built by a madman.
They were also women, fully free women who had accepted him into their bodies willingly.
No, they had demanded it. They had said that it had freed them. Freed them from what though?
“We will be moving out in a few hours,” Margarita said. “It will be best to get some sleep.”
“You’re right,” Ignacio said in response.
He leaned back, waiting for unconsciousness to overcome the darkness.
…
The three of them climbed into the jeep.
Pulling the keys out of his pocket, Ignacio handed them to Margarita in the driver’s seat.
“Don’t forget how much gas we have.” He was tired and sore, unable to relax in the well worn seat. “If we’re low, just look for something to siphon from.”
“I remember,” Margarita growled.
“He’s right,” Yolanda said in her cold voice. “That car lot across town should have enough.”
Ignacio chuckled despite himself at Margarita’s deep-throated growl.
As the car rumbled along, Ignacio thought about his situation.
He was unarmed, yet still alive for reasons he wasn’t sure about. Everywhere he could think of the Monsters would surely be there. If he could get out of the country would he be safe? Was there anywhere he could go?
What did the Monsters want? It definitely wasn’t to kill everyone or he would be dead right now.
Why had this world become a nightmare of hell?
‘Ka-Boom!’
“Shit!” shouted Yolanda. “Two flyers incoming!”
“I see them!”
“What’s going on?” Ignacio asked.
“Nice of you to wake up,” Margarita snarled. “It looks like an air raid. Hang on!”
The jeep lurched and bounced with a hiccup.
“Pop them from behind,” she continued without pause, “I’ll try and lure them in.”
“Are you fucking nuts?”
The jeep lurched with a violent shudder and skidded to a stop.
“Shut the fuck up you blind idiot!” cried out Margarita. “This is what we do!”
Yolanda’s voice was cold and calm as she said, “I’m gone.”
“Gone where?” Ignacio asked silently.
“Teleportation,” Margarita said, “one of her two psychic abilities.”
“Psychic? What’s the other?”
“Hold on a second,” Margarita said. “Don’t move.”
Ignacio breathed deep, waiting as the air suddenly chilled around him.
“What…?”
“Quiet!” hissed Margarita. “I need to concentrate.”
‘Fwoosh’
“What is…?” began Margarita.
‘Boom!’
The explosion overshadowed the rest of her question.
“Yaaaaahoooooo!” shouted someone in the distance.
“Crap,” shouted Margarita, “Yolanda!”
The air began to heat back up again.
“Get away!”
“What is it?” demanded Ignacio. “The army?”
“Not quite,” a gravelly voice said as the hardened steel of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. “Put your hands up.”
‘Fwoosh!’
Ignacio slowly did as he was told.
‘Boom!’
“This is Benson, I’ve got two prisoners.”
‘Fwoosh!’
“No! Yolanda!” cried Margarita.
‘Boom!’
“Looks like you got all three Timmy. Move it you two.”
Ignacio gulped and cringed.
“Don’t do it,” he said.
The silence that answered him hurt worse than the blow to the back of his head.