Somewhere In Mexico

Chapter 5

“That feeling when you’re near home,” Fregley inhaled deeply, letting the smoke of his cigarette out almost immediately. Their hideout, deep in the woods, was a seven-mile walk from here. No vehicles could make it through. They had no choice but to go on foot.

“Mackey, you need to keep a really close eye on that kid. Don’t let him outsmart you again,” Fregley sneered, his voice a gravelly threat, his eyes narrowing. His words were coated in venom, warning of something worse if the kid stepped out of line.

Keith, fast asleep in the back of the car beside Marcus, was jolted awake by a rough tap on his shoulder. His hand immediately reached for the bottle of bourbon resting beneath his feet.

“Put it down,” Fregley ordered in his usual hoarse tone, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

"I'm starving. I need to eat something first," Keith grumbled, uncorking the bottle with a determined slowness.

“I said put it down. Now,” Fregley snapped, his hand shooting out like a whip, grabbing the bottle from Keith’s hand, slamming it back onto the floor with a loud clatter. The sound rang through the still air, sharp and unsettling.

The noise startled Marcus from his stupor. He groaned, clutching his head. "My head... Ugh... Please, I need something to eat."

Fregley shot Keith an accusing look, then turned to Mackey. “Get him some food,” he growled.

Mackey climbed out of the car, sluggish as always, and returned with a handful of stale chips and dried meat. Marcus snatched it from his hand with ferocity, tearing into it with a hunger that bordered on madness.

***

“The kids aren’t with my mom, Burdett. We need to go to the station, now,” Carla’s voice was thick with frustration as she kicked off her shoes and slumped into the couch. Burdett stood still, his eyes cast downward.

“The cops are doing their job, Carla. You’ve gotta calm down,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it, a palpable tension that hung in the room.

“I’m the only one who cares about our kids!” she snapped, her face flushed with both fear and anger. “You’ve been acting like it’s nothing since the incident!” She grabbed her keys, slamming them onto the counter. “I’m going to the station.”

Before she could leave, Burdett reached out, stopping her. “I’ll drive,” he said, his grip firm as he took the keys from her hand, his expression hardening.

The drive to the police station was long and silent, filled with an unspoken tension. They walked straight into the Chief’s office, where he was hunched over paperwork, sipping coffee. He stood as they entered, exchanging firm handshakes with Burdett.

“Please, sit down,” the Chief gestured to the chairs. Carla, still silent, took a seat, her eyes welling up.

The Chief sighed, then spoke. “Our search teams are combing every corner of the state. We got a lead today about two children spotted at a pub earlier, but they weren’t yours. I’m sorry.”

Carla’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. The Chief’s words felt hollow. All she wanted to hear was that her kids were safe, coming home. But that wasn’t happening.

Burdett’s voice broke through the silence. “What if they’re not even in New York anymore? What if they’re out of state?”

The Chief’s face tightened, his jaw clenching. “That’s not possible. They couldn’t get past the borders of New York. The odds of that are minimal. Your kids are still here. Trust me.”

But Carla couldn’t hold it in anymore. She stood up abruptly. “I’m leaving.”

***

After hours of walking, Marcus felt his strength starting to fade. His legs burned, his body ached, and his mind kept replaying the events that had led him here. He collapsed to the ground with a ragged gasp, the sharp pain in his limbs making him cry out.

Fregley paused, hearing him collapse, but he didn’t speak. Mackey, still far behind, didn’t seem to notice. Keith, full of energy, moved to grab Marcus, but Fregley waved him off. Keith’s fitness didn’t match the grueling pace of their walk, and he still had energy to burn. Meanwhile, Fregley, with his toned muscles and stamina, hardly broke a sweat.

Fregley sat on a fallen trunk, pulling out his gun with a cold, practiced motion. He dialed a number on his phone, speaking in Spanish. Marcus lay on the ground, trying to ignore the conversation, his stomach twisting with fear.

“Hola, ¿qué pasa? ¿Hace ocho horas que debíamos estar allí?” Fregley’s voice was sharp as he spoke into the phone. (Translation: "Hello, what’s going on? We were supposed to be there eight hours ago.")

The voice on the other end responded quickly. “Estamos cerca, solo tenemos un pequeño problema con el niño. ¿Sergio está contigo?” (Translation: "We're close, just having a little trouble with the kid. Is Sergio with you?")

Fregley glanced at Marcus, who groaned in discomfort, his eyes darting nervously. "Sí, él está aquí conmigo. Apúrense," the voice added before hanging up.

Fregley’s eyes darkened as he pocketed the phone, then jumped to his feet, signaling for everyone to move. Keith grabbed Marcus roughly by the arm, yanking him off the ground. The skin on Marcus's wrist burned where Keith’s fingers dug into him, but there was no time to fight back. They had no time to waste.

***

At a café, Bella had fallen asleep at the table, her head resting against her arms. Aiden sat beside her, staring blankly at the TV. A breaking news story flashed on the screen: three missing children, all siblings. Their faces filled the screen, and Aiden’s breath caught in his throat.

He shook Emma awake, his finger pointing at the screen.

“...and in this very active investigation, the New York Police Department urges anyone with information to contact the Missing Persons Unit at—” the reporter continued.

Emma barely reacted. She knew this moment would come. Aiden grabbed their bags, and they quietly left the café, feeling the weight of the situation closing in. They were losing ground. They didn’t know what to do next.

***

The small building was hidden deep in the woods, almost completely camouflaged by overgrown foliage. Fregley and the others entered, Marcus in tow. Inside, the dim light barely illuminated the room. Sergio sat at the conference table, waiting, a smug look on his face.

“Aquí están,” Fregley said, nodding toward Marcus. The others filed in. Sergio’s face broke into a wide grin, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.

“¡Amigo! Ha pasado un tiempo!” Sergio exclaimed, pulling Fregley into a hug. “It’s been too long.”

Fregley smiled but quickly turned serious as Alejandro, standing by the table, cut through the pleasantries. “Let’s get to business. The kid,” Alejandro said, his tone all business, his eyes cold and calculating.

Sergio nodded, sipping from his drink. “He should be out by Thursday night.”

Marcus, who had been pretending to sleep, felt his stomach twist. Out? Where? What did they mean by that?

Sergio continued, “We’re moving him to Arizona tomorrow. From there, we’ll get him across the border into Mexico. We have a truck lined up.”

Mexico. Marcus’ heart pounded in his chest. He was going to be smuggled to Mexico, like some piece of cargo. His mind raced. Would he ever see his family again? Would he survive the journey?

***

Carla tossed and turned in bed, her face etched with fear. Burdett lay beside her, his sleep broken by her restless movements. He got up to get a drink, his mind heavy with worry.

Suddenly, Carla screamed, her voice piercing the silence. Burdett shot up, his heart racing as he rushed to her side. She was sitting in bed, staring blankly ahead, her body trembling with shock.

She was crying. "I had a terrible dream... It was about Marcus. He was—"

Her voice broke, the sound raw and full of anguish. Burdett held her close, feeling the weight of their situation settle around them. This nightmare was no longer just a dream—it was their reality.