Marcella: Princess or Pawn

M A R C E L L A

by

James P. McDonald

CHAPTER 1

The air was perfectly still as the afternoon sun

blazed down upon the Arizona desert. The blinding

glare and intense heat washed out the colors of the

landscape as it baked everything that resided in the

desolate realm. The mountains were colorful pastels of

red, orange and brown as they stood their ground

proudly and guarded the secluded valley as a parent

would its offspring. They reached majestically towards

the clouds above as they sloped gently to the sandy

terrain below. Rising pockets of heat emanated from

the scorched earth while scattered tumbleweeds sat

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motionless as they waited for the slightest hint of a

breeze to send them on their way again. Various

species of cacti, ravaged by the harsh climate,

sprouted from the dirt as if in defiance of Mother

Nature, like soldiers in the sand. A lone rattlesnake

slithered across the hot surface as the temperature

easily topped one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The

silence was deafening until the stillness was broken by

a faint drone that seemed to come from over the

mountain tops. The sound increased in intensity until

it began to echo throughout the valley and bounce off

the mountain walls. Suddenly, a small, silver airplane

broke through the clouds as the sun glinted off its

shining hull and created a show of dazzling colors.

“Yee-haw! We made it, dude!” Steve shouted and

clapped his hands, his nose pressed to the tiny window

as the plane glided smoothly over the mountain tops and

began to descend into the isolated desert. “Andrew,

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you never cease to amaze me with your piloting

prowess!” He reached over and slapped his friend on

the back for emphasis.

“Ouch!” Andy yelled in mock pain as the plane

dipped slightly. “I think I broke a rib here! Is

there a doctor in the house?”

“You broke a rib in your back, dude? I think you

just made medical history with that one!”

“Oh, yeah,” Andy replied as he thought it over

before he turned to grin at his partner. “Maybe you

broke my spine and I’m permanently paralyzed. That’s

it!” He laughed. “Well, the long-ass flight is over,

let’s get this thing on the ground, shall we?”

Andy Blevins was a skilled pilot and navigator who

loved to have a good time at other people’s expense.

He liked to pull practical jokes and make wise cracks

but always took his job very seriously. He was in his

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mid-thirties and, though only five and a half feet in

height, his body was muscular and toned. He liked to

keep himself in top condition and worked out daily in

preparation for their next mission which could come at

any moment. He had a strong jawline and rugged skin

due to the constant five-o’clock shadow. His eyes

seemed large for his face which, along with his ever-

present quirky grin, gave him a comical look to go

along with his playful personality. He had dark brown

hair with curls that flowed to his shoulders but had

started to recede on top which was a cause of concern

for him. His blue eyes and long eyelashes made him a

handsome man but he was shy around women and kept

himself buried in his work. He secretly yearned for

the family life someday but wondered when, and if, it

would happen. It wasn’t a main concern for him, simply

a dream. He wore his usual outfit, a flowery,

Hawaiian-style shirt along with blue jeans and cowboy

boots as he steered the plane towards the desert floor.

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He searched for the faint outline of a much-used

landing strip to match the map he had followed. With

his hands on the controls and sweat that glistened on

his brow, he made his approach as he fought the vicious

updraft from below.

“Shit, man!” Steve screamed as the plane bucked

and rolled. “Don’t kill us now!”

“Keep your panties on, dude, we’re almost there,”

Andy said as he set his sights on the landing strip.

Steve continued to peer out the window. “See

that?” he said as he pointed at some dust clouds that

were kicked up in the sand. He could see four black

sedans that quickly approached the area. “If that’s

Carlton, he sure as hell came in style!”

Andy concentrated on the tricky landing as they

descended sharply but managed to grab a quick glance at

the approaching vehicles. “Think he brought any women

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who might be looking for a good time with a couple of

smelly dudes?”

“I just hope he brought us some brewskies!” Steve

laughed. “My throat is parched something awful and, to

tell you the truth, I could use the buzz!”

“Yes, sir! Now that sounds good!” Andy replied as

he smacked his lips in anticipation. “But, first we

must get ready for a bumpy landing. It won’t be

pleasant, my friend, so I suggest you assume crash

position.” He grinned broadly and waited for one of

Steve’s witty comeback lines. When none came, his

forehead furrowed with concern. “Hey, asswipe! I’m

talking to you!”

“Shut up, you turd! Can’t you see I’m watching

here?” As the plane neared the ground, Steve kept his

eyes on the four cars and wondered what was going on.

“It just seems strange, is all. Didn’t Carlton say he

was coming in a chopper at one o’clock? It’s not even

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twelve-thirty yet! I got a bad feeling about this,

dude.” His eyes squinted from the bright sunlight that

reflected off the windshields of the cars.

Steve Sikes was the more cautious of the two and

always thought ahead as he planned his every move and

tried to think of every detail. He hated surprises and

everyone knew it, especially Andy who took that as an

invitation to pull some practical jokes. He drove

Steve crazy with his tricks but they were a good team

and had been together many years. Steve stood six

feet-two inches with wavy blonde hair that was cut

short, “Like an accountant,” Andy had mentioned one

day. Steve was a well-built man, smart and mild-

mannered, in his mid-thirties, with a youthful

appearance which caused him distress due to the fact he

could not grow much facial hair. He was jealous of

Andy who could seemingly grow a full beard overnight

yet Steve couldn’t even produce a hint of a decent

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mustache. He loved the excitement and thrills of his

job and lived for the danger he had come to expect. He

wore a Hawaiian shirt, similar to Andy’s, along with

beige pleated pants, brown hiking boots and a simple

gold bracelet on his left wrist, a gift from a past

girlfriend. His eyes were a brilliant green color that

glowed like neon lights, he was once told. As he

prepared for the rough landing, he steeled himself for

what he felt was a confrontation to come.

Along with being the best of friends, Andy Blevins

and Steve Sikes were both mercenaries-for-hire, having

spent many years together fighting for, and against,

many various factions throughout the world. They were

very skilled, always prepared, feared nothing and even

invited danger as they savored the thrills and

excitement of the fight. Although they were older now,

and the jobs were coming increasingly infrequent, Steve

never wanted to slow down. He knew in his heart that

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he would probably die doing what he loved most and, he

thought, why not? Isn’t that what life’s all about?

Shouldn’t a man be free to do what he wants without

restrictions? He touched his bracelet and saw a face

he didn’t want to see, the face of a woman who wanted

to marry him, to always be with him, to have his

children. He shook his head violently as if to erase

the image and focused once again on the cars as they

stopped and parked on the outskirts of the airstrip.

Something’s not right, he thought as he felt the plane

touch down on the bumpy terrain. He watched as three

men got out of each car, all wearing dark suits and

sunglasses, and stood by their vehicles. Steve waved

and smiled out the window as the plane passed the

waiting men. One of the plane’s wheels hit a sizable

hole in the ground and sent his head crashing against

the ceiling. “Shit, man! Can’t you stop this thing?”

Andy slowed the plane to a stop, turned off the

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engine and turned to Steve. “Welcome to paradise,

Stevie my boy!”

The plane stopped about a hundred yards from the

cars. “Well, what now?” Steve asked as he peered out

the window at the waiting men. “I didn’t see Carlton,

did you?”

Andy scanned the men as they stood by their cars.

“Can’t say that I did but you know old Carlton, he’s

probably sitting in the car enjoying the air

conditioning. That would be just like him, you know?”

They knew Carlton was a man of his word and, to keep

the mission under wraps, only told a select few people

of the plan he had developed. Andy scratched his head

as Steve and he discussed the situation.

“Okay,” Steve concluded, “Carlton said he’d arrive

by chopper but, instead, four cars show up. We’re

supposed to meet at one o’clock and we know he’s a very

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punctual guy yet these cars appeared a half-hour early.

Only a handful of people was to know of the plan yet

here’s twelve men to greet us.”

Andy nodded his head as he listened and pondered.

He pushed the hair out of his face and cursed the heat

as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well,” he sighed, “I

guess we should see what’s up and find out if this is a

welcoming committee or a death squad.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve replied as he jumped out

of his seat. He never wore a seatbelt in an aircraft.

He always figured what was the use, if you crash you

die, period, end of story. He preferred to be ready to

get out as soon as possible if need be. He moved to

the back of the plane and waited for Andy to join him

before he opened the side door.

The plane was a single-engine, six-seater with

most of the seats removed to create a small cargo area.

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They carried all their supplies with them at all times

just in case. They had guns, including rifles,

handguns and machine guns along with all the necessary

ammunition, grenades, plastic explosives, and a

bazooka. They also had a mortar launcher that sat in a

storage bin, rarely used but good to have in an

emergency. Better to be safe than sorry, Steve always

thought.

Andy joined up with Steve at the door and they

opened it slowly. Sunlight flooded the cabin as they

debated their next move. “Just wave to them,” Andy

said nonchalantly. “Let’s see what happens.”

“But they look so mean!” Steve said in mock fright

as he grinned and slapped his friend on the back.

“Hey! Dammit, you got a real problem with that

back-slapping shit! I might have to give you an

attitude-correction when we get back home!”

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“Quit your bawling, asswipe, and let’s greet our

welcomers, shall we?”

They both leaned out the doorway and smiled as

they waved to the waiting men.

“Think they’ll wave back?” Andy asked as he

grinned the best he could.

Steve watched the mysterious men with their stone

faces and look of defiance. “I doubt it, good buddy.

They look pretty damn serious to me. Why don’t you say

something to them?”

“Couldn’t hurt, I guess,” Andy replied.

“Just say hi or something.”

“Okay, hold on.” Andy cupped his hands around his

mouth and yelled, “Good day, gentlemen! How goes it?”

At that point, a shot rang out. A bullet whizzed

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past Andy’s ear, followed by another and another until

it turned into a hail of bullets. They both dove back

into the plane as they searched for a weapon.

“Shit!” Steve yelled as he grabbed an AK-47

assault rifle and slapped in a clip. “They ain’t none

too friendly, are they?”

“Assholes don’t know who they’re messing with!”

Andy screamed as he grabbed the bazooka.

Steve began to return fire through the open door.

“Damn fine way to treat your guests, shitheads!” he

yelled as he emptied his gun and reached for another

clip. “Come on, dude, get your ugly ass out here and

give me a hand, will you?”

“Keep your panties on, bitch!” Andy replied as he

prepared the bazooka. “We’ll have to give them a firm

spanking, my friend!”

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Steve saw the bullets tear through the fuselage

and was struck by a sudden thought. “Holy crap! Hurry

up, man! If they hit the gas tank we’re as good as

toast!”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Andy got on his knees

and positioned himself behind Steve. He wrestled the

bazooka onto his shoulder while he re-positioned

himself on one knee. “Get down...now!” Steve dove for

the floor as Andy squeezed the trigger. With a

thunderous boom, and a reverse kick that sent Andy into

a backward somersault, the shell flew gracefully

through the air. It went over the heads of the suited

men and exploded a good fifty yards behind them.

“Shit!” Andy screamed as he scrambled for another

shell.

“Good shooting, Tex!” Steve laughed as he once

again got up to return fire. “You missed them by a

country mile, you turd!”

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“Ah, hell!” Andy quickly reloaded his weapon and

took aim. “This time I won’t miss.” He carefully

aimed the weapon and braced himself. “If you want to

keep that ugly thing you call a head on your shoulders,

I would suggest that you move out of the way!” Steve

dove to the floor as Andy fired and sent the shell

directly towards his intended target. He hit one of

the cars dead-center with a mighty blast that sent

bodies and dust flying through the air.

“Ya-hoo! We got ’em on the run now!” Steve shouted

as he jumped from the plane. “Come on, dude! Victory

is ours! Hahaha!” He turned, smiled at Andy, pivoted

back around and fired wildly ahead of him as he ran

into the cloudy mayhem.

Andy threw the launcher down, grabbed a machine

gun and, smiling a devilish grin, leapt through the

door and onto the desert floor. “Holy shit, Batman!

Wait for me!” He ran into the chaos and they both

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combed the area, shot anything that moved and accounted

for all their enemies. After a few stressful minutes,

it was over. “Ah, shucks!” Andy scowled as he kicked

at the dirt under his feet, “I was looking for more of

a challenge. I guess it was too damn much to expect

from this bunch of asshole wimps.”

“Quit your bitching and get your ugly ass over

here!” Steve yelled as he stood over a mortally-

wounded man.

Andy nonchalantly walked over and surmised the

situation. “And what do we have here, pray tell?”

“It’s a damn survivor. Can you believe it?”

Steve replied in feigned disbelief. “And there’s

another one over there. Sheesh! Now what do we do?”

Andy strolled over to find another man on the

ground with a nasty head wound. “Want I should shoot

him dead?” he asked as he aimed his weapon at the man’s

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head.

“Now, just you hold on there, hot-shot,” Steve

replied. “They might prove useful to us.” He looked

at the two mortally-wounded men and laughed. “I don’t

know about you guys but I’m having tons of fun here!”

He chuckled as he glanced towards Andy.

“Hey!” Andy exclaimed. “I know! Let’s take a

break and let our guests catch your breath. Maybe that

will clear their minds a little.” Andy took a seat on

a nearby rock and wiped the sweat from his brow. He

nodded to Steve and sat back to watch his friend do his

thing.

“No, dammit! No breaks!” Steve curled his upper

lip in mock anger. “Now, you assholes, who the fuck

sent you here!” The man beneath his feet opened his

mouth to speak. “You wanna say something, jerk-boy?”

The man swallowed hard before he said, in a

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weakened voice, “Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?” Steve asked as he got down on one

knee and got closer to the man’s face. “There’s no

need for such hostility,” he said softly. “It’s just a

simple question. Besides, who was it that fired first,

butthole?” He looked over at Andy and winked. “We

didn’t start nothing.” He stood and yelled to his

partner, “Hey, Andy! Did we fire first?” Andy

shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “No, we didn’t.

You shot first,” Steve continued, “and all we did was

protect ourselves from looking the way you do now!” He

smiled as he watched the man wince with the pain from

his many injuries. “We greeted you guys cheerfully and

with open arms now this is the thanks we get?” He

leaned down and turned serious. “Now, who the hell

sent you here?”

Andy grinned broadly at the sight before him while

he kept one eye on the other wounded man nearby. This

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was Steve’s forte and he loved to watch him in action.

“Fuck you! I ain’t telling you nothing!” the man

replied as he clutched at the bleeding hole in his

chest.

“The man’s got a filthy mouth,” Andy said as he

cocked his weapon menacingly. “I say we terminate him

now.”

“Nah, let’s give him one more...hey!” Steve

exclaimed as the wounded man reached out and grabbed

him by the shirt. Steve slapped the man’s hand down.

“Sir, you are trying my patience!” He stood over the

man and brushed the dirt from his pants. “If you’ll

permit me, I would like an answer to my...” He

stopped, shocked at what he saw. The man had spit at

Steve and hit him in the leg. Steve looked down at it,

shook his head, placed the gun to the man’s temple, and

said, “You, sir, are an idiot.” With one quick burst

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from his rifle, the man slumped back as if to melt

into the desert sand. Steve watched as the blood

seeped from the man’s head. “One down, one to go,” he

said as he stood and turned his attention to the other

wounded man. This is fun, Steve thought as he flashed

a grin in Andy’s direction. He then put on his best

scowl and began to walk towards the other man. “And

what’s your story, dude? Feel like spilling your guts

or do I have to splatter your blood all over the place,

too?”

The second man was already bleeding from a shot to

the head as well as half a leg that was blown off in

the explosion. “Please, don’t kill me,” he uttered

softly. He looked at the tall man who appeared, and

demonstrated, that he meant business. Andy stood a few

feet away and knew that this man didn’t stand much of a

chance of surviving much longer. He had lost massive

amounts of blood and appeared to be losing energy

Marcella/McDonald/pg 22

quickly. “I’ll tell you what you want to know,” he

said in faltered speech.

Steve crouched next to the man with his rifle

across his knees. “Just remember, dude,” he said as

he patted the rifle for emphasis, “I hold all the

cards.” The man closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“Now, who sent you here and why?”

“We were sent by Sonny,” the man said as he kept

one eye on the rifle, “Sonny Burke. He wants you guys

dead. We got the orders from a guy named...” The man

began to nod off.

“No!” Andy screamed as he rushed forward. Steve

waved him back and continued to coax information from

the dying man.

“The guy’s name again is..?”

“Uh, Johnson. His name’s Johnson.” The man

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closed his eyes again and swallowed hard. “I don’t

know why he wants you.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Steve said as he rubbed

his chin. “Where is Sonny now?” There was no answer

as the man had grown limp and closed his eyes for the

last time. “Shit!” Steve said in frustration as he

watched the life ebb from the man’s body.

“That’s all she wrote,” Andy said as he walked

over next to Steve. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, we know who Sonny Burke is but I’ve never

heard of this Johnson guy.”

Andy thought of Sonny Burke, with his big, flashy

limousines, expensive suits, fancy diamond rings and

bodyguards that accompanied him everywhere. “Shit,

what are we getting ourselves into?” he thought out

loud.

Marcella/McDonald/pg 24

“I don’t have a clue, good buddy, not a clue.”

Steve looked at the mountains that surrounded them and

peered into the sky. “And where the hell is Carlton?”