Cait shrank behind the van. The gang leader spewed a string of vile epithets before he turned and stamped toward the ranch house.
Cait slipped closer to the fence to get a look at the building Jack was in. A roll-up garage door and a walk-in door were just visible within the dark enclosure.
The fastest way to reach Jack was through the main entrance Para had been looking into. But it was lit by an overhead flood light. And she had no idea who else was in there.
An idea took hold. She ran back to the van and tried the driver’s door. Unlocked. She opened it and flipped the lever that released the gas cap hatch. Then she took a flare from her waist pack and scraped the fuse end on a rock.
After unthreading the gas cap and jamming the sparking flare into the fuel tank opening, she bolted to the back of the buildings near the wash.
The chain-link fencing between the rear of the two structures looked formidable but not impossible to climb. The dark alley between the buildings would shield her from the rest of the compound.
Up she went, poking boot toes into gaps in the steel mesh and pulling herself up with the help of a fence pole. She counted steps as she climbed, focusing on the immediate task, tamping down her fear.
At the top of the fence, she hung on and listened. If the flare in the gas tank fizzled out, she and Jack were out of luck. There was no plan B to distract Para and company.
Once she was inside the fence, there would be no quick escape. With a sigh, she let herself down to the ground. Hugged the shadows veiling the alley. In minutes she would cross the enclosure and reach a side door. Para said Jack would be eaten alive. What was in that building?
Jack had wanted her to buy a gun. But she hadn’t been comfortable with owning one, having heard too many stories about firearm accidents. Now the cold hard feel of a revolver in her hand would have ratcheted up her courage.
But even if she was armed, she couldn’t outshoot Sonny Para, a killer who snuffed out lives like he was swatting flies. The only way to deal with him and his minions was to outsmart them. Easier said than done.
She crouched and faced an ugly reality. Still no explosion or fire. The damn flare had gone out. There would be no diversion to help Jack and her escape.
***
Cait prepared herself. Time to face off with whoever or whatever was in there with Jack. She’d never been shot before, and it didn’t sound like a lot of fun.
An air-sucking whoomp took her breath away. Could it be . . . It was. The van’s fuel tank went up in a deafening boom on the other side of the warehouse. She leaped for joy as a hot glow lit the sky.
The detonation threw the compound into an uproar. Men swarmed toward the burning van as Cait sprinted across the dark enclosure toward the far building.
At the walk-in door, she stopped to listen. Heard a low, guttural rumble. She turned the knob and opened the door a few inches. Foul smells assaulted her nose, urine and feces and something else. A pall of death. Rotting flesh.
A wavering fluorescent light revealed a man on the concrete floor of the large interior.
It was Jack. Knees drawn up, he sat inside a cage that took up much of the warehouse. The cage door was held shut with a length of chain wound around it.
Jack’s hands were bound behind his back. His face and head were bloody. He gave her a slack-jawed look, as if he didn’t recognize her.
The creature in the cage with him raised its head and fixed her with golden eyes. The jaguar glided closer to Jack on huge paws. Lean muscle rippled under tawny fur dotted with rich black rosettes.
She snapped out of her daze, ran to the cage door and started unwinding the chains. Hissed in a low voice. “Hey, hey. Leave him alone.”
Jack tried to move but toppled over. She undid the chain, pulled the door open and stepped toward him.
The cat halted and watched her, sinking into a crouch.
“Jack, hurry.”
Hands tied behind him, he struggled to get up. He managed to get onto his knees and inch toward her. Either drugged or concussed, he moved like he was stuck in quick sand. Panic shown in his eyes, but his body wouldn’t respond.
At his side, she knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on.”
He scooted along on his knees, faster now, but didn’t have the coordination or strength to stand up on his own. She put her arms around his torso and raised him up, her thighs and calves trembling with fear. He reeled as if he was about to collapse, but planted his feet and leaned on her.
The crouching jaguar growled but didn’t advance.
Cait seized Jack’s arm and lugged him toward the gate, bracing herself for the cat’s strike.
They made it out of the cage. Before she could secure the gate and pull Jack toward the exit, a man threw open the main door.
“You!” Sonny Para flew into a shooting stance and aimed a gun at them.
Cait shoved Jack toward the side door. The shot went wild, ricocheting off a metal wall and gouging the concrete floor.
The big cat changed out of the cage and launched. Not at the couple but at Para, bowling him over with a fury of teeth and claws.
Cait yanked the side door open and pushed Jack outside. The air was thick with oily smoke as Para’s people tried to contain the blaze with fire extinguishers.
Back in the warehouse, the gang leader shrieked, his cry drowned out by terrifying growl.
In the paddock, Jack marshalled all his strength to keep up with Cait. He coughed and gasped his way across the open area to the dark space between the two rear buildings.
By now the scorching van had set the adjacent building ablaze. Light flickered above as flames burst from under the roof.
An outbreak of yelling and shooting sent Cait’s adrenalin surging. When they reached the fence in back of the alley, she pulled a multi-tool from her waist pack. Cut the plastic ties binding Jack’s wrists.
She laid an arm on his shoulder. “We have to get over this fence. Ok?”
He nodded, face ashen and movements laborious. “I know. Having trouble.”
She showed him how to scale the chain link by grabbing a fence pole and finding toe holds in the wire mesh. “Take your time.” She glanced back. Any second now, they could be mowed down by gunfire.
Para’s goons would soon realize the prisoner was gone. Cait was surprised they hadn’t started looking for Jack. The men were preoccupied with the fire, but not for long.
Whatever happened back in the warehouse, it sounded like the jaguar had gotten Para good. Karma comes through, she thought. The big cat was another matter. It deserved to live. But even if it escaped from the building, its chances of survival were slim, given all the heavily armed men running around.
Jack started climbing, stopping every few steps, and stalled near the top of the fence. Normally strong and fit, he was panting from the exertion. Then he lost a foothold and slipped halfway down before regaining his purchase on the fencing.
Cait was midway up the fence, and could only offer encouragement. If he fell off, he’d take her down as well. Time was running out. Any minute now, someone could spot them.
Jack resumed the battle, shaking from the effort. Whatever Para had done to him had dissolved his strength.
But he made it. He bulldogged his way to the top of the fence, swung a leg over, and started down the other side. Six feet from the bottom, he lost his grip and tumbled down.
Cait scrabbled after him as fast as she could. As soon as her feet touched the earth, she helped him up and urged him toward the relative safety of the gulch behind the compound.
He dropped into the wash, stumbled through the sand and around a bend before collapsing, head on his knees.
Cait raised up enough to peer over the edge. “Stay down.”
“What?” He moved to look but she held him back.
Light from the burning building outlined two men wielding automatic weapons, looking in their direction.
***
Chris Zapata woke in a sweat. He shook the nightmare from his head and glanced at the digital clock. Four a.m. Outside, Saguaro National Park East lay hushed in predawn cold.
He’d been keeping his jaguar dreams to himself. They had started after his sister Cait had seen one in the Rincons, and her friend Estrella had heard a crazy story about a van with a roaring animal inside, parked on a backcountry road near Benson.
Every dream started with him face to face with a spellbinding animal with distinctive rosettes and mesmerizing eyes. Each time, the cat led him up and down mountains. He desperately wanted to catch it to move it to a safer place, but in the dreams, his dart gun never worked.
But the latest vision had turned ominous. In it, Cait and the jaguar hid from a group of armed hunters who had cornered them in a box canyon.
Now he scrubbed his eyes and looked out a bare window. A fusillade of stars hung above the dusky expanse of the wild Rincons, untrammeled by pavement or hordes of human visitors.
The situation in Albuquerque weighed heavily on his mind. Jack’s parents seemed to live in an urban battle zone. He’d tried calling Cait the day before, but she hadn’t called back. A busy work schedule had kept him on the run. He wanted to call her right then, but he didn’t want to wake her. He’d try later.
Chris yawned and crawled back into bed. The dream just meant he was concerned about his sister, he reasoned. He counted breaths and pictured hummingbirds, jack rabbits and desert tortoises, benign creatures without sting or bite.
Hours later he was up with the first light. After coffee and a run along the park’s Cactus Loop, he called Cait. Again he found himself talking to voice mail. His next call went to his dad Ernie, awake and happy to hear from his son.
“How’s that new job?” Ernie listened without interruption as Chris rambled.
“We had some excitement around here.” Ernie sounded unflappable as he described how Pueblo clansmen had accosted the driver and passenger of a sport utility that had stopped in front of the Zapata home. “They waved guns at us but beat feet when all these lada:kwe started to surround them. Big black Cadillac Escalade. Whoever it was, they were gone before tribal police showed up.”
“Dad, be careful.” Chris felt a sliver of ice down his back. “Those are gangbangers. They’re used to shooting people. They might return.”
“We’ll be ready for them.” Ernie Zapata didn’t sound scared.
After saying goodbye, Chris tried Cait’s number. Voice mail again. His frustration was evident in his message. “Sister, I need to talk to you. It hurts that you disregard my messages. Call me right away.”