Categories > Movies > Once Upon a Time in Mexico > Darkness
Darkness
Sands has to cope with learning how to live as a blind man while trying to figure out what really happened in Mexico.
?Blocked
Chapter 1: Out in the Open
He knew that the sun should be blazing but he couldn't see it. He guessed that his body had gone into shock because he shouldn't be this cold. There's a wetness on his face that he wanted to pretend was tears. He knew that given his current condition he should have never made it out of the building but somehow he did. He knew that he should be passed out in an alley, but he guessed the adrenaline kept him going.
He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body. He had managed to shoot and kill four people, including Ajedrez, the bitch that had been responsible for what had happened. Now he was lying on the ground, sure that he was going to die there.
There was a faint tingling of bells. He was sure that it was his brain playing some sort of joke on him. ~Maybe this is hell~ he thought. ~Where you relive the most horrific experience of your life over and over, where you think you're going to be rescued. However, just as the help would reach you the cycle would start over again. Fan-fucking-tastic.~
"Senor?" The voice was small, unsure and sounded terrified.
Agent Sands managed to get onto his knees and then shakily to his feet. There was dust clinging to his clothes and he could feel the blood oozing from his arm, leg and the other injury that he didn't want to think about. He turned so that he was facing the boy. "Let's go."
"Where to?" The boy on the bike asked.
Sands made a mental note to ask the boy's name when they got to safety. "The Flying Cow. There should be someone there for me." As he walked he didn't want to put too much of his weight on the kid, but he knew that his wounded leg wouldn't stand much either. He leaned on the boy for support until they got close enough to the building so he could use the wall.
His dark world was spinning and threatened to disappear. The boy on the other hand was worried about the man with the sunglasses.
He may have only been 8 years old but he knew the walking dead when he saw one. When he first met him after he came out of the building he knew that something terrible had happened; after all blood is blood. That was most definitely blood dripping down his face. Now he was more than certain that if they didn't hurry, the man in the sunglasses would die.
They had just turned the corner when Fernando stopped. For the third time in five minutes the same gray car had passed them. He had a hold of the man's hand and when he stopped, the man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"What's wrong?" His voice was weak and shaky. It was all he could do to stop his teeth from chattering.
"We're being followed."
"Fuck." Sands muttered. There was no way he'd be able to withstand another battle. "Okay. Where?"
"Right in front."
"Alright. Stay behind me." He figured if there was another shoot out, there was no point in the kid getting shot. He took a deep breath and let go of the wall. No point in letting them see how worn out and weak he was. It was bad enough that they could see that he was injured.
He heard the car stop. He stood rigidly straight, a quirky smile on his face. The first thing he had learned in Psychology; was that if you wanted someone to believe something, you had to portray confidence. You had to make them believe that you believed in whatever shit you were trying to sell.
He wanted whoever he was dealing with to believe that although he was bleeding he could still whip their asses. His world was spinning and his head throbbed, but he was determined to stick it out.
He heard doors open and footsteps; he turned his head towards the sound. He was already starting to sway on his feet; he knew that this was not a good sign. He knew that if the Cartel wanted him, they could have him. They already took his eyes, what could they do to him that would be more painful? He couldn't think of anything.
He turned to the boy. "Go away." Fernando took the hint and ran. "Alright, fuckers, come and get me." His abused body finally gave out. His gun clattered to the ground as he collapsed onto the concrete.
He knew that the sun should be blazing but he couldn't see it. He guessed that his body had gone into shock because he shouldn't be this cold. There's a wetness on his face that he wanted to pretend was tears. He knew that given his current condition he should have never made it out of the building but somehow he did. He knew that he should be passed out in an alley, but he guessed the adrenaline kept him going.
He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body. He had managed to shoot and kill four people, including Ajedrez, the bitch that had been responsible for what had happened. Now he was lying on the ground, sure that he was going to die there.
There was a faint tingling of bells. He was sure that it was his brain playing some sort of joke on him. ~Maybe this is hell~ he thought. ~Where you relive the most horrific experience of your life over and over, where you think you're going to be rescued. However, just as the help would reach you the cycle would start over again. Fan-fucking-tastic.~
"Senor?" The voice was small, unsure and sounded terrified.
Agent Sands managed to get onto his knees and then shakily to his feet. There was dust clinging to his clothes and he could feel the blood oozing from his arm, leg and the other injury that he didn't want to think about. He turned so that he was facing the boy. "Let's go."
"Where to?" The boy on the bike asked.
Sands made a mental note to ask the boy's name when they got to safety. "The Flying Cow. There should be someone there for me." As he walked he didn't want to put too much of his weight on the kid, but he knew that his wounded leg wouldn't stand much either. He leaned on the boy for support until they got close enough to the building so he could use the wall.
His dark world was spinning and threatened to disappear. The boy on the other hand was worried about the man with the sunglasses.
He may have only been 8 years old but he knew the walking dead when he saw one. When he first met him after he came out of the building he knew that something terrible had happened; after all blood is blood. That was most definitely blood dripping down his face. Now he was more than certain that if they didn't hurry, the man in the sunglasses would die.
They had just turned the corner when Fernando stopped. For the third time in five minutes the same gray car had passed them. He had a hold of the man's hand and when he stopped, the man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"What's wrong?" His voice was weak and shaky. It was all he could do to stop his teeth from chattering.
"We're being followed."
"Fuck." Sands muttered. There was no way he'd be able to withstand another battle. "Okay. Where?"
"Right in front."
"Alright. Stay behind me." He figured if there was another shoot out, there was no point in the kid getting shot. He took a deep breath and let go of the wall. No point in letting them see how worn out and weak he was. It was bad enough that they could see that he was injured.
He heard the car stop. He stood rigidly straight, a quirky smile on his face. The first thing he had learned in Psychology; was that if you wanted someone to believe something, you had to portray confidence. You had to make them believe that you believed in whatever shit you were trying to sell.
He wanted whoever he was dealing with to believe that although he was bleeding he could still whip their asses. His world was spinning and his head throbbed, but he was determined to stick it out.
He heard doors open and footsteps; he turned his head towards the sound. He was already starting to sway on his feet; he knew that this was not a good sign. He knew that if the Cartel wanted him, they could have him. They already took his eyes, what could they do to him that would be more painful? He couldn't think of anything.
He turned to the boy. "Go away." Fernando took the hint and ran. "Alright, fuckers, come and get me." His abused body finally gave out. His gun clattered to the ground as he collapsed onto the concrete.
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