The Long Run, page 1
The Long Run
Billy Wittenberg
Buffalo Bayou Publishing LLC
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The Soup Factory
The Soup Factory is an action and suspense thriller that will keep you guessing to the very end. If you like white-knuckle action and edge-of-your-seat suspense, you'll love Billy Wittenberg's page-turning novella.
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Contents
1. DAY 1 Sunday
2. CHAPTER 1 Sofia
3. DAY 2 Monday
4. CHAPTER 2 Israel
5. 4 DAYS EARLIER
6. CHAPTER 3 Israel
7. NOW
8. CHAPTER 4 Israel
9. CHAPTER 5 Agent Dominguez
10. CHAPTER 6 Sofia
11. CHAPTER 7 Israel
12. DAY 3 Sunday
13. CHAPTER 8 Israel
14. CHAPTER 9 Israel
15. CHAPTER 10 Sofia
16. CHAPTER 11 Agent Dominguez
17. CHAPTER 12 Sofia
18. DAY 4 Wednesday
19. CHAPTER 13 Israel
20. CHAPTER 14 Agent Dominguez
21. CHAPTER 15 Israel
22. CHAPTER 16 Chucho
23. CHAPTER 17 Sofia
24. CHAPTER 18 Agent Dominguez
25. CHAPTER 19 Chucho
26. CHAPTER 20 Israel
27. CHAPTER 21 Bang
28. CHAPTER 22 Sofia
29. CHAPTER 23 Israel
30. CHAPTER 24 Agent Dominguez
31. CHAPTER 25 Sofia
32. CHAPTER 26 Israel
33. CHAPTER 27 Dominica
34. CHAPTER 28 Chucho
35. CHAPTER 29 Sofia
36. DAY 5 Thursday
37. CHAPTER 30 Agent Dominguez
38. CHAPTER 31 Chucho
39. CHAPTER 32 Sofia
40. CHAPTER 33 Agent Dominguez
41. CHAPTER 34 Chucho
42. CHAPTER 35 Israel
43. CHAPTER 36 Agent Dominguez
44. CHAPTER 37 Chucho
45. CHAPTER 38 Agent Dominguez
46. CHAPTER 39 Israel
47. CHAPTER 40 Bang
48. CHAPTER 41 Sofia
49. CHAPTER 42 Chucho
50. CHAPTER 43 Agent Dominguez
51. CHAPTER 44 Israel
52. CHAPTER 45 Chucho
53. DAY 6 Friday
54. CHAPTER 46 Israel
55. CHAPTER 47 Agent Dominguez
56. CHAPTER 48 Chucho
57. CHAPTER 49 Sofia
58. CHAPTER 50 Israel
59. CHAPTER 51 Sofia
60. CHAPTER 52 Agent Dominguez
61. CHAPTER 53 Israel
62. CHAPTER 54 Chucho
63. CHAPTER 55 Bang
64. CHAPTER 56 Agent Dominguez
65. CHAPTER 57 Chucho
66. CHAPTER 58 Agent Dominguez
67. CHAPTER 59 Israel
68. CHAPTER 60 Agent Dominguez
69. CHAPTER 61 Israel
70. CHAPTER 62 Chucho
71. CHAPTER 63 Agent Dominguez
72. CHAPTER 64 Chucho
73. CHAPTER 65 Sofia
74. FOUR MONTHS LATER
75. CHAPTER 66 Israel
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Copyright
DAY 1
Sunday
CHAPTER 1
Sofia
Sofia Martinez stared wide-eyed at Club Bombom, as colored floodlights lighted its exterior and thumping electronic dance music vibrated the ground at her feet. Before coming to Cancun on vacation, she had discovered the club in several tourism websites. It was the hot dance venue on Boulevard Kukulcan, with ornate, tribal-inspired architecture, towering sculptures, and multiple reactive dance floors. She wasn’t going to Cancun just to relax with her friends before college started in the fall. She wanted to party too. And this was the place to be. The long line waiting to enter only intensified her desire to go inside.
“Come on!” she said—her smile dimpling her cherubic cheeks—and grabbed her boyfriend, Hank, by the wrist. She rushed across the street towards the club despite her tight jeans and open-toed sandals. Their friends, Rebekah and Andre, followed close behind as they fell in at the end of the line. Sofia rearranged her black sequined blouse, pulling it down over her curvy hips and preventing it from revealing too much cleavage.
“This is something, huh?” Hank said as he soaked in the atmosphere. With his shock of red hair and pale skin, he stood out from the mix of tourists and locals strolling the boulevard. An Irish American kid with his Hispanic girlfriend in the land of the Maya. He was broad shouldered with a stocky build, perfect for the linebacker position he played on his old high school football team.
A burly bouncer guarded Club Bombom’s door with folded arms. After a half hour wait, he opened the door for them to enter. Thrilled by the sound and strobing laser lights inside, Sofia shook her hips and raised her arms in a triumphant whoop.
“I’ll get us a table,” shouted Hank. Sofia watched him disappear into the throng of people and turned to her friends, the petite Rebekah—with her bouffant curly afro adding precious inches—and her towering bald boyfriend, Andre.
“Oh my God.” Rebekah excitedly tapped Sofia’s shoulder. “Check out the bar.”
It was shiny black and white in a modernist style, with LED lights glowing under the bar top. It undulated across one side of the club. A looming statue of an indigenous warrior, lacquered in brilliant colors, dominated its center. His feathered headdress descended past his shoulders and flames danced in his eyes. A dozen bartenders worked at a frenzied pace, shaking tumblers and shouting orders to meet demand. Photos of celebrities and various art pieces decorated the club. A neon metallic skeleton, twice a man’s height, filled one wall. It clutched a string guitar and arched its back as it sang phantom lyrics. Club Bombom was everything Sofia had hoped and imagined.
Near the bar, patrons sat on counter height tables and chatted loudly to be heard over the music. Sofia wondered if any tables were available when she heard Hank’s voice.
“Hey!” he called over the din. “I got a table!” She spotted him through a cluster of patrons, pumping his arm beside an empty table. A nearby customer glared at his dramatics. But Hank paid no mind. He was loud and impulsive, and some days those personality traits annoyed Sofia. But not tonight. She smiled and waved in reply.
“I’ll get the first round,” Andre said and turned for the bar. At 6’-7” and 250 pounds of solid muscle, he was the perfect choice for getting a busy bartender’s attention. Rebekah gave a mousy giggle and clutched Sofia’s arm.
“I love his strut.” Her slender face crinkled in a bawdy smile as she stared at Andre’s butt.
“Oh girl, you’re drunk all ready.” This was cute, chirpy Rebekah, the tipsy college student who revealed her saucy side with alcohol’s aid. But Sofia knew what awaited. Rebekah snoozing on her shoulder on the cab ride home and needing help to her room. So be it. She needed to blow off steam. Soon both would be knee deep in law school minutiae back home in McAllen.
“Come on,” Sofia said, pulling her best friend to the table. Hank was sitting down scrolling through his phone with a concerned look on his face. “Is everything OK?” Sofia asked as they approached.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, suddenly beaming as he set the phone down. “A guy at work texted me.” Hank had promised to ignore his job for this trip. But he broke his promise before their plane even taxied down the runway.
Sofia was about to ask for the name of the offending coworker when Andre arrived, clutching four margaritas to his chest. He smiled wide, impressed by his successful balancing act as Sofia and Rebekah took their drinks. They drank and laughed and talked about the impending school year. Hank would return to his engineering studies and part-time internship at his father’s construction company. It was growing fast, landing big projects all over south Texas and in Mexico. Andre was an English major when he wasn’t playing basketball. After college, he would either latch on with an NBA team or become a public-school teacher like his mother. After several minutes of conversation, Sofia gave Hank a playful kick under the table.
“Hey!” Hank said, smiling in mock hurt. “What was that for?”
“I want to dance,” she said.
“Yes ma’am!”
She stood and followed Hank onto the dance floor. They slipped through the dense crowd and found a clear spot. Dancers swung their hips and heads with their arms over their heads as the music pulsed. Hank placed his left palm on his midsection and raised his right arm as he grooved in front of Sofia. His eyes locked on hers. The sexy, alluring look that thrilled her. She returned the pose and slinked towards him until their hips met, skin to skin if not for the pesky clothing in the way. He leaned in close, his hot breath warming her neck and cheek, and a rush of excitement tingled her fingers. His dancing had attracted her in a club in McAllen a year earlier. Their relationship had grown since then, making her think it might become something more permanent.
Then the music switched. Something with a driving, automated beat like pistons firing that had the crowd jumping. Sofia and Hank joined them—more a cathartic release of energy than anything resembling a formal dance—and it was OK because the beat insisted, and it made her f
“Let’s go back.” Sofia fanned herself with both hands.
“Sure babe.”
Andre and Rebekah canoodled at the table as Sofia and Hank approached.
“All right! Break it up!” Sofia clapped her hands.
“Aw,” Rebekah groaned, through a wide, boozy smile.
Hank approached Andre with one hand raised. “Hell yeah, boss!” Hank shouted. They slapped high fives and grinned. Why, Sofia didn’t know. Perhaps it was one of those testosterone boy things she would never understand. Hank was about to sit when he fished his phone out of his pocket. The phone’s screen glowed from a missed call. Hank frowned as he read the notification.
“Tell that guy to figure it out himself!” Sofia barked. She didn’t appreciate the continued intrusion. Saturday nights weren’t for updates from coworkers. Especially while on vacation. Hank’s father worked him like a dog during the school year, loading him with projects that kept him working all night. Hank deserved his free time.
“Sorry, babe!” Hank called over the noise. “I need to call him back! I’m gonna step outside.”
Sofia glared in reply, but to no avail. She gritted her teeth in silence as Hank cut through the crowd. The double glass entrance doors parted as he disappeared outside. Sofia sighed and focused on Rebekah’s and Andre’s conversation.
Rebekah related a story about Professor Chapman, who taught torts and intellectual property and resembled jheri-curl-era Justin Timberlake, with graying temples and patched elbows on his plaid sports coat. He was prone to long-winded lectures punctuated by references to his dalliances with LSD and cocaine. She had bumped into him one night at a bar outside campus.
“Anyway,” Rebekah said, “he comes over and asks how we’re doing and all that. We’re polite, hoping he goes away. But he lingers and gets up close to Amy.”
“Oh no,” Sofia said, her eyes widening with anticipation.
“Yeah girl. Shady as hell. He leans in close, and I see Amy cringe. You know that cringe, right?”
“She should trademark that cringe!” Sofia laughed.
“He asks us to come back to his place and party. He’s rubbing his nose and sniffing, and his eyes are red.”
“Oh God. What did you do?” Sofia said.
“We said no thanks. Real polite and all that. Gotta go home and study. Which was true. He gave up and started talking to some other girls.”
“Did you report him?”
“And let all the professors know I’m THAT girl? Nuh uh! The semester was almost over. I needed a passing grade! I didn’t want to sit in his class again.”
Minutes passed and Sofia wondered what happened to Hank, whose seat remained empty. Maybe she should check on him. Unlike her, he didn’t speak Spanish. What if the bouncer wasn’t letting him back in? She grimaced as she imagined a frustrated Hank gesturing and pleading in broken Spanish.
“I’ll be back!” she told Rebekah and Andre and stood.
She took one step towards the door when she heard the first shot. Like a single report of a distant pistol or rifle. But it mixed with the thumping dance music so well, Sofia shook it off as a phantom imagination. Another shot followed. Then a burst. Then panicked yells of alarm. People stood from their seats for a view of the entrance, blocking Sofia from continuing. She tiptoed and craned her neck in search of Hank just as the front doors burst inward.
Automatic gunfire erupted inside the club. The sound ripped Sofia’s thoughts from her missing boyfriend. Bullets rippled across the ceiling, crumbling overhead tiles and shattering glass panels. Fibrous debris and glass shards showered the people below. The crowd surged away from the gunfire towards the rear of the club. Towards Sofia.
The table in front of her tumbled, along with its occupants and their round of drinks. Beer and tequila splashed on the floor and glasses smashed into fragments. A woman screamed under the pile—her arm extended and hand grasping at air—as terrified patrons leaped over her. Sofia watched them approach, frozen in fear and shock. Then an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her off the floor. She buckled like whiplash from a sudden car crash. Snapped from her reverie, she slapped at the muscular forearm and bicep and cried for help.
“We gotta go!” Andre yelled in response. He pulled Sofia to his chest, toting her like a football. Rebekah—her eyes wide with terror—clung to his opposite arm. His long strides covered the distance to the bar as tables overturned behind them. People cascaded with them, stacking on top of each other like kindling.
“Stay down!” Andre dragged Sofia and Rebekah to the floor just before the massive mirror behind the bar exploded into dust. Liquor bottles shattered with it, splashing alcohol and scattering chunks of thick glass to the floor. A bartender curled into a ball nearby and shrieked.
“What’s happening? What’s happening?” Rebekah’s panicked squeal caught Sofia’s ear. She repeated it like a mantra, not waiting for a reply. Not that one was coming. Sofia didn’t know the answer any more than Rebekah. Her breathing was accelerated, inhaling and exhaling in time with her pounding heart. She scanned the club with clear eyes but couldn’t see any gunmen. How many were there? Was this a mass shooting, America style? A crazed loner with an automatic rifle and a grudge against society? Or a gang robbing the club? All possibilities were on the table.
“We’ll go out the back!” Andre yelled. He crouched low, keeping his head below the bar top, and waved for Sofia and Rebekah to follow. They mimicked his stance, with Rebekah trembling between them. Sofia swallowed her fear. Coppery blood coated her lips. When did that happen? Bits of glass and tile crunched under her feet as they rushed to the end of the bar. A hallway beside it led to the kitchen. Their salvation lay through the rear exit.
Andre turned the corner into the hallway, his hand still clutching Rebekah’s. As they neared the kitchen, the swinging entrance doors burst open. Fearful employees hurried towards them with their hands raised over their heads. Someone was behind them, driving them forward.
“Hurry up! Move!” the unknown man shouted.
