Page 31

Hugo parked his vehicle and walked toward the small ticket booth. Inside was an elderly man who appeared to be Noah himself.

“Can I help you?” said Teddy.

“I’m Cassius Hugo. I believe you’re expecting me,” he said with an aristocratic tone. He looked around, not seeing anyone else. “Aren’t there other visitors today?”

“Oh, yeah, there will be lots of visitors today,” smiled Teddy. “It’s early yet. For now, you’ve got the park pretty much to yourself.”

“Good. That’s good,” he smiled.

“I need your hand.”

“My hand. Why?” frowned Hugo.

“We stamp everyone’s hand so they can go in and out, and we know that they’re supposed to be here. No stamp, no entrance,” said Teddy.

Hugo frowned at the old man and then stuck his hand through the small window. Teddy pressed the stamp against the back of his hand, probably harder than he needed to, but it was giving him great satisfaction.

“Did you need to press into my flesh?” frowned Hugo.

“Just doin’ my job, mister. Go on in and enjoy. It’ll be the time of your life.”

“I doubt that,” mumbled Hugo as he walked through the gates. He was immediately met by a group of flamingos who promptly shit at his feet. Cursing, he pushed them aside and then noticed several species of monkeys walking around.

“Do they not have fucking cages?” he growled.

“Oh, we have cages. But they’re for humans,” said the deep voice.

Hugo swung around, staring at a face that he recognized immediately. He shouldn’t be able to recognize that face. It wasn’t possible. He looked the same as he did decades ago during his interview.

“You! How? How is it possible you look like that? You’re the asshole that interviewed me and refused to move me forward. You and the crazy ass Indian!”

“That would be me,” said Trak.

Hugo whipped around, staring at the man. He shook his head, unsure of what he was seeing. Quickly, he gripped his weapon at his waist. Trak was faster, holding the man’s wrist and slicing his knife across the back of his fingers. Screaming, he dropped his weapon, staring at them.

“This isn’t possible! You two should not be alive.”

“Neither should you,” said Miller. “Don’t worry, Hugo. We’ll let the Samaan family know that you couldn’t make it.”

Hugo shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. How could they know about them? How was it possible that they knew about the Samaan family?

“Don’t look so shocked, Hugo. It is what we do, after all. Before we take you for a walk, I do want to know why you were pushing that fucking piss water of yours. Moonshine? I mean, you could have bought a vineyard or built a brewery.”

“It wasn’t piss water. It was a lucrative business idea, and if it had been legal, I could have sold it for millions!” He was holding his bleeding hand against his abdomen, the blood dripping around his feet.

“Millions? You’ve lost your mind. Moonshine is only appealing to a small group of people,” said Miller. “You would have lost millions.”

“You’re a fool,” said Hugo. “Don’t you get it? I manufacture two types of moonshine. One for the public and another for my colleagues. A special brew that has additional ingredients to make people do as you say.” He gave an evil grin to Miller, and Trak stared at him for a moment, then slammed his fist into the side of his head. Hugo fell to the ground, cursing as he tried to get up.

“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” smirked Hugo, his ear now bleeding along with his hands.

“You seriously underestimate me and my friend,” said Miller. “I’m old now, Hugo. I don’t give a shit about fighting a man hand-to-hand unless he’s an honorable man. And you are not an honorable man. You don’t deserve to fight for your right to live. You deserve to die. Slowly, if possible, but it really doesn’t matter.”

“I see,” he said nervously. “So, it will be two against one. That’s very manly of you both.” Trak gave the tiniest evil smirk at the man.

“No. It will be one on one. I will only jump in if Alvin needs me.”

“Your name is Alvin?” he laughed, staring at Miller. Miller chuckled, shaking his head.

“No. My name is Pierre Alfonse Christopher Robicheaux. My friend is Joseph ‘Trak’ Redhawk. I don’t care if you know our real names. You can tell the fucking devil when you meet him.”

“Th-then who is Alvin?”

The hiss and Jurassic-like growl at his feet made him jump, and Alvin jumped at him, gripping one ankle in his mouth. Hugo screamed like a little girl, trying to kick Alvin off of him, only serving to embed his teeth into his leg even more.

“This is Alvin, and he is very hungry. He also has children to feed.” Trak patted the top of Alvin’s leathery head and nodded. “Take him away, Alvin.”

Most people don’t realize that alligators can move very quickly, and their bite force is exceptionally strong. Alvin moved toward the water, dragging Hugo’s body as he screamed. Pulling him into the bayou, Hugo’s head went above the water, then under as Alvin swam deeper and deeper into the swamp.

Miller grinned at Trak who had the slightest of grins on his face.

“That gave me great satisfaction.”

“I’m sure it did,” smirked Miller. “You can tell Lydia she won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

“We can all tell Lydia. Now, we must prepare for the Samaans. I don’t think they will be so easy to overcome.”

“They never are, brother. They never are,” said Miller, slapping his back as he walked toward the giraffes. “Trak? If I haven’t told you lately, I love being your partner, brother.”

Trak stopped and stared at Miller, giving a slight nod. He then gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. He touched his forehead to Miller’s and nodded.

“You are my brother. I’m honored to work with you.” As Trak walked away, Miller chuckled, shaking his head. In his earpiece, he heard the voice of Nine.

“He can speak when he wants to.”