The Misbegotten

“How many of you lazy bit-… bastards are familiar with a gun?” asked my uncle with a condescending leer upon his lips. He was glancing around the table. He would’ve said “bitches” instead of “bastards”. But, when he had looked about and saw there were more female faces staring back at him, he changed his mind at the last moment.

See, even murderers can be chivalrous at times.

I raised my hand a few inches from the surface of the table. I felt awkward when I realized I was the only one who had moved.

All the others, including Flavia and Johan, were gazing back at my uncle wide-eyed and nervous.

Tirza was biting her lower lip with trepidation.

He gave each of them a once over, a sardonic twist to his lips. “It figures,” he muttered, then turned his attention toward me. “How much do you know, baboso?”

“I know a little bit, but I know most about handguns. The Beretta 9mm especially,” I answered, keeping my anger in check, despite his insults.

All the girls’ heads swiveled in my direction.

I could tell it surprised them to hear I had messed with a gun before. It was a topic I didn’t bring up at the behest of my mother.

“No joking?” He raised his brow in mock surprise.

“Yeah.”

“You how to handle them safely and all that shit, correct?”

He was still acting like an ass. Only an idiot handled a gun without understanding the importance of doing so in a safe manner.

I nodded, near imperceptive, knowing it was a test.

“And cleaning, you know how to keep a gun clean, chivato?”

“Yes, man, I know how to clean a gun, but better yet I know how its’ on Safety before cleaning. I know how to make sure it isn’t loaded, to check for an errant round in the chamber. I know how to dissemble it properly and put it back together. I know what kind of tools and oils and rags to use. I’ve done it many times.” I stopped to let him chew on that for a while.

He was still frowning. A few heartbeats later, “How many times, Estefan?”

“A lot of times,” was all I was going to give him.

“And can you shoot the fucken thing?” He sounded as though he was getting riled now.

“Yeah, I can shoot it, pretty good from what people have told me,” I answered with an innocent smile.

“No way, man! Who the fuck taught you how to shoot a cuete, you little maricón? You’re fucken lying to me! No one taught you how to shoot!” He was mad now, his face reddening. The cords on his neck were straining.

“My mom taught me,” I replied with measured syllables, but spoke the moment he stopped.

“Bullshit, Estefan, that’s fucking bullshit,” he waved a meaty hand at me, disgusted. He thought I’d been acting brave in front of the girls, but I hadn’t.

“She did teach me, Roberto,” I began, but he cut me off.

“That’s Uncle Roberto to you, little puto,” he rasped.

“Whatever,” was all I said, sitting back in my chair, slouching. I crossed my arms about my chest and shaking my head, annoyed.

Roberto was, and always would be, a king-sized dick.

We all stayed quiet for almost two full minutes. None of the girls so much as shifted in their seats or took drinks of their. They just sat there, either looking down or anywhere else. They did not gaze at each other or my fucking uncle.

“When did she get a gun, Estefan?” he finally asked. His voice was calmer, but it was easy to tell he was still pissed off.

I turned to stare at him directly in the face. “She bought it after she separated from my father. He threatened to come back and beat the shit out of her, remember?” I accused. My dad was his biological brother – full blood, no bullshit.

His eyes narrowed.

“And when he did come back, all she had to do was flash him the gun from the window,” I went on. I wasn’t about to stop now. “That little piece of shit took off like a dog with its tail between its legs and has never come back.

“By that time, she was already pretty good with the piece. She went to target practice every weekend, took me along after a while. She wanted to make sure I learned how to respect the fact there was a gun in the house. And, well, she wanted to make sure I knew how to use it should my father decide to come back with you guys in tow.” I knew I was on shaky ground, but I made myself ploy on. “Over time, she taught me just about everything she had learned at the range where she took her lessons.” I shrugged my shoulders. “So, you can believe me if you want or you can call me a liar. I don’t give a shit, but I will tell you this. My dad was lucky he never came back again. She would’ve put on right through his forehead before he had come within fifty yards of the front door.”

The silence preceding my little tirade was cacophony compared to what followed when I had finished. Not only did no one move, they froze in place.

I don’t think anyone even breathed.

“Okaaay, Estefan, knows some shit about guns,” he murmured from the back of his throat. He made his already rough tones deeper, gruffer. “And that’s good for me, you know? Because I don’t have to sit around here and show all you mamasitas how to pick up a cuete without shooting off one of her pretty polished toenails. Mr. Big Shot Beretta 9mm can show you all for all I care!” He stood in on swift motion and slammed a fist onto the table.

Tirza yelped.

Katie cringed from the sound.

Uncle Roberto laughed at them, gazed in their eyes and laughed in their faces. “Such little sweethearts,” he cooed. “I bet you both squeal like that in bed too, huh?” He trailed off taking a long, rude sounding inhalation through his nose. His nostrils quivered with a sickening noise. “Ooo, I bet you facilonas squeal nice and long underneath a man. Huh, am I right?”

“Knock it off, man,” I grumbled. I’d had enough of his stupid act. “Get the fuck to the point already.”

Uncle Roberto let his eyes wonder over Tirza and Katie a while longer, a horny smirk written on his face. He wanted them to see it. He wanted them to know he was dreaming about how they might look without any clothes on. He wanted them to know he was thinking about fucking them. He didn’t care how old they were or if they had boyfriends. He wanted them to know he was thinking about his cock sliding into their young pussies. He wanted them to think about him. Whether they liked him or not, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be in their minds. That was enough for him.

Then, he placed the duffle bag on the table, and, out of nowhere, was all fucking business.

What a douche!

“Okaaay, pendejos, let’s get down to business, eh?” It was a rhetorical question.

We didn’t respond to it.

“First things first, ok, I’m going to get you all up to speed on the fucked up shit that is going on out there. This way the next time I come over there won’t be some pinche bruto playing video games with a headset on. You know that guy? He’s the marícon who does this with the fucking shades wide open.”

My brother was shrinking as far as he could go into the back of his chair.

“Johan, man, any joto with a potato-gun could’ve taken you out in his sleep,” he explained. It was crude, but it was an explanation nonetheless. “Don’t be so stupid next time. Those motherfucken NIA motherfuckers are pro’s, vato. They will take you out big time like that!” He snapped his fingers with surprising volume, even I sat up straighter.

Johan nodded, shamefaced.

“Ok, ok, forget it, let’s get to it.

“So, as you all know, for the past two - going on three -days the NIA has being raising hell throughout most of northeastern Los Angeles. The word on the street is the Alliance is conducting raids on Muto families from as far south as Lincoln Heights. This includes through Highland Park and Garvanza. There was even some action as far north as Eagle Rock. We also caught wind of whole families clapped in irons, taken into custody all the way in Atwater Village. You know this is due north of downtown, but they don’t seem to care. The eastern border of the operation seems to be South Pasadena. But that Barrio belongs to the mayates and out of our specific area of influence. So we can only guess what’s happening beyond that part of the city.” He stopped, orbs curious, glancing from face to face. “Which one of you is Tirza?”

A moment later, the tentative hand of my ex-girlfriend rose into the air.

For the first time since having stepped foot on my parents’ property, his face betrayed genuine emotion. The whole Cholito façade fell away and the true man underneath revealed himself. It was almost as if he were - in his own demented way - apologizing for antagonizing her minutes prior.

Then just as quick as it flashed across his face, it faded like a mist before the morning sun. “The Yard Monitor at her school turned in your sister for the Soplón Money as I am sure you know by now.” He spoke it atonal, clinical, as if he was trying to keep from eliciting emotion from her by denying it to himself.

I glanced over at Tirza, seeing the tears forming in her eyes. I shared a look with Ramona and then my cousin.

Both girls nodded.

I turned back to my ex-girlfriend and motioned for her to join me.

She shook her head in the negative, but her body betrayed her thoughts. She stood, a little unsteady.

I beckoned her a second time and watched a shudder go through her.

She peered back at me just as the tears fell from her eyes. In a heartbeat, she was all motion. She swept around the table and sat down next to me, her tiny butt fit perfect next to mine. She put her head on my arm. “Thanks, Effy.” Her voice was small, lost.

I put a hand on the side of her head, stroking lustrous russet-colored hair.

Uncle Roberto cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything beyond that.

“What you might not know, chavala,” he began anew. His voice was deeper now, urging us all to listen intently. “Is the fact your little sister scared the shit out of those NIA marícones.”

He had us riveted, sitting up straighter, brows knitted together.

I think we even forgot we needed oxygen to stay alive.

“What they are saying is this, chica. Since they took your sister against her will, she suffered massive trauma. This frightened her beyond anything in the past. The price of taking her out of her regular routine caused her to change. From what I learned this change was quick. She mutated right there, right in front of all the troopers. She became something that could spread unimaginable fear.” His eyes went wide, his arms splayed to either side of him. He was standing now, half-bent at the waist.

“How did she make them fear her?” I asked. I misunderstood how a fun-loving, autistic tween could scare member of the battle-hardened NIA.

Uncle Roberto’s head swung toward me as he stood, inhaling and stretching to his full height – five-foot-five.

Yeah, he towered.

“You do remember your cousin, Tita, don’t you, Estefan?” This made me frown in an instant, because she was a topic I hadn’t expected to discuss.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“And do you remember what happened to her?”

“…She became a Troll…,” I mumbled, a sick grimace coming to my face. I hated saying that about my cousin. She has always been so nice to me, and so pretty. It was terrible to think she had turned into some sort of seven-foot beast of a woman, deformed and twisted. I couldn’t fathom her skin ripening with boils and blisters that oozed.

Uncle Roberto nodded, sucking at his upper lip. “Well, her sister,” he pointed at Tirza, “became something more than a mere Troll.”

The silence that ensued was dramatic.

“W-what h-h-happened?” asked Tirza. Her arm snaked around mine, her hand gripping my bicep, both involuntary movements. It was the grip of anticipated horror. She knew she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear.

“There are no words for what happened,” my uncle said, which was annoyingly inadequate.

I was about to ask for him to explain in greater detail.

But he spoke again: “What she became has no words either, but whatever she was...” He emphasized the word in the past tense, letting us know that Lisa Cardenas was in fact dead. “She managed to take out almost two squads of their Shock-troopers before they were able to take her down.”

Tirza nuzzled the pit of my arm and began to cry in earnest.

I shifted my body, so she could cry on my chest. I hugged her with both arms, firm, letting her know I was there.

“Don’t be so sad, chavala,” he soothed in his crass, uncouth manner. “She killed over forty armored men before she died. She went out swinging hardcore. You should be proud to have a hermana who will fight to the very end. There’s no shame in that. You remember that, ok?” There were thunderclouds upon his brow, but there was something more there as well. Respect.

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Tirza nodded.

I couldn’t believe myself, but I was glad my asshole of an uncle had said what he said. The timing was perfect.

“The consequence of that incident though,” he began again, “is the reason the NIA is capping whole families. This is why they are no longer arresting them now.”

“Wait a minute, what are you saying?” asked Ramona, who up to now, had remained content to watch.

My uncle tipped his head toward her, an eyebrow rising. “After Tirza’s sister had killed so many of their own, the NIA brass declared that the Muto’s were ‘too dangerous’. They sent out an urgent directive. It stated it was legal for their troopers to kill all those suspected of contamination on sight.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” exclaimed Katie, rubbing at her temples trying to massage comprehension into her brain.

The final pieces were falling into place. We finally understood why there’d been such a dramatic escalation in violence. This was why they weren't taking care of us anymore.

“That’s why they busted into your house,” he was talking to Tirza once again. “That’s why they killed your parents in cold blood.”

“So, all these, so called, arrests are all bullshit?” asked Leda. Her hard veneer and dark expression intensified, she looked like a bird of prey.

“Simón.”

“What the fuck are we going to do?” asked Sandy. She looked drawn, frightened out of her mind.

“Nothing for now,” was my uncle’s immediate response. The way he said it spoke of finality. He didn’t want any questions regarding the matter, period. “You guys just wait, stick together and wait. My brother and I are now moving to a new chante, something secure, something hidden. It’s almost finished. Once it’s done, we’ll send for you.

“Until then, you pendejos need to get your shit organized. You need to some supplies together, practical shit, so if you have too you can go on the run in minutes. Do you understand me?” His eyes were twin shards of frozen steel. “And you’re gonna have to get acquainted with the cuetes. And I mean like real fucking acquainted. That means every one of you, including you little chavala.” He pointed at Tirza.

She grimaced as if she were about to sick up. She hated guns. She always had and always will. It doesn’t matter that now she’s an expert marksman with a hundred different kinds of firearms. She just hates having to use them.

“Get them to know the guns, Estefan, so they can protect themselves. If the fuckers from the government find out about this little love cocoon you got here, they’re gonna smash it like a spider’s nest.” He rounded on me, squaring up. “Don’t get caught with you dick stuck in one of these mamasitas, while one of them putos puts his submachine gun up your ass. You get me?”

I nodded.

“Good!” Then he reached into the duffle bag and began pulling out piles of cash.

I felt my mouth drop to the floor. He brought out no less than fifty stacks of twenty dollars bills, stacking them one atop another, ten high, side by side.

Every one of us stood up at the sight of so much cash.

Even Tirza stopped crying, standing along with me. Her arm went loose around my waist. Her earlier unwillingness to touch me had vanished.

“That’s fifty large,” said my uncle as he finished, pointing at the huge block of cash. “That might seem like a lot right now. But when you’re the run, you burn through feria than you do toilet paper when the early-morning tequila chorro’s get a grip on you. So, take care of it, but use it to get what you need. It should be more than enough to outfit you all real nice.” Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. “This is the address to the safehouse. I suggest you guy’s scope out the fastest way to get there. And then, you need to come up with two or three alternate routes just in case. Don’t fuck up on this part. It’s almost as important as getting to know the guns. Times have changed and so must you. The days of chiquido no longer exist for you.” He handed the strip of paper to me.

I looked down at it. It was on a dilapidated scrap of yellow-lined paper. It read: 5302 Monterey Road, Los Angeles, CA 90042. There was nothing more written on it. I raised my brow and with a nonchalant shrug, I put it in my front left pocket.

“If the shit hits the fan, you guys get your asses to the chante. Do not go anywhere else, comprendes mendes? Estefan, do you understand? You get these pretty, young girls and your familia there as quick as possible. Don’t fuck around, just go.”

I nodded I would do exactly as he had outlined, and then realized there were nods all around.

The girls and my siblings were glad to know that finally we had a plan. Plus, we had a way to defend ourselves should the NIA come knocking. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Good,” he bounced his head, emphatic now, gazing at me as another thought crossed his mind. “The guns in there are all handguns, Estefan, but they’re not pussy-shit guns either. They all can drop a man if you put the bullet in the right place. The smallest in there is a 9mm Glock 23 and largest a Desert Eagle .50cal.” He paused to point at me. “Don’t be stupid and let little Miss Chavala fire the Eagle. It’ll knock her on her ass… might even dislocate her shoulder or break a wrist. So be smart when you are deciding who should get what, ok?”

Again, I nodded.

“How many guns are in the bag, Mr. Marquez?” asked Katie.

The fact she had knew his last name made me stop short for a second. It came to me a few heartbeats later. She had no doubt met him over the course of those years when my mother was still with my father. Back then the Agave and the Marquez families had been much closer. That was before my parents’ ugly, violent divorce. Before my dad threatened my mom. Before she bought a gun set on killing him if he ever came close to touching her in anger again.

“There are twenty-three guns in that bag,” he answered pointing at it. “And there are about a hundred rounds for each of them. There are many clips for each gun as well, but they are empty, so you guys will have to load them up. We didn’t have the time to get that shit, too much going on and all.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of guns!” remarked my cousin, louder than she intended.

“Hey, Katie Chaz, we might not all get along, but we’re still familia. Even if we’re only related through a marriage that's no more, it changes nothing.”

“You remember who I am?” asked Katie in astonishment.

“Mija, the bad boys always remember who the bad girls are,” he retorted. It sounded like idle banter. Yet, his eyes held something more behind them, something maybe I didn’t quite like to see directed at my Katie.

She astounded me though, when she smiled back at him. It was the cute I’m-innocent-but-not-that-innocent grin she had given me time and time again!

God damn, Uncle Roberto was a sly motherfucker, indeed!

As I watched him flirt with Katie and saw her respond in kind, I learned something new. There was no denying my uncle was likely pushing into young pussy every night! He was fucking smooth - a fucking asshole no doubt - but a smooth, fucking asshole to boot.

“Well, we are grateful for your help,” announced Ramona like a Katana through day old shit.

“And I am glad you’ve acknowledged our help, Chica. I am glad you are showing the proper respect,” he said, his face unreadable. He was all business once again as he reached down and placed the duffle bag on the table next to the cash. “Ok then, guys, remember what we talked about, remember what you have to do. Don’t fuck up, because if you do… well, you’ll be dead, so… don’t fuck up!”

With that he spun on his heel and left. He never so much as glanced back. He just made his way to the gate at the side of the house, opened it. He kicked the rock I'd left to keep it propped it open, and shut it behind him without any noise.

Seconds later, my uncle Roberto was a gone as if he’d never been there in the first place.

The only spore of his visit that remained was the fifty thousand dollars, the twenty-three hand guns and over two thousand rounds of ammunition. Other than that he was a ghost.