CARLOS & KATRINA

ANovel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2019

________________________________________________

Chapter 28

Carlos bolted down the street as fast as his legs could carry him, looking for a store doorway to duck into. He could hear his pursuers' car a quarter–block away as it screamed around the corner, hot on his trail, but he didn't dare slow down to look behind him. His heart pounded as he tried to conjure more speed, but his tired body suddenly felt very heavy, as though it were made of lead. Regardless, he couldn't afford to stop or even slow down a little; he was running for his life.

Carlos heard a loud pop and recoiled as a small chunk of the building next to him came spinning his way, missing his face by inches; two more shots immediately followed, mercifully hitting the wall again and sending more brickwork fragments at him. He cursed, ducking as he ran full speed down the sidewalk while scared pedestrians ahead of him scattered out of his way.

"GUNMAN!!" Carlos yelled as loud as he could. "Run! Run away!" The entranceway to an alley suddenly presented itself on his right; panicking, he turned and sprinted down it. Hearing the assassins' car as it screeched into the alley hard on his heels, he looked wildly around for a doorway or a break between buildings, but he could see no immediate escape ahead; only a row of huge trash bins on rollers to his left. Barely breaking his pace, Carlos grabbed one by its handle and swung it hard around behind him, listening to it rolling into the middle of the alley as he turned back around and continued his flight; a second later he head the gratifyingly violent sound of his pursuers' car smashing into it at high speed, knocking it over off its rollers. He had bought himself a few precious seconds.

He ran ahead in blind terror, not knowing where to turn. A small metal door appeared slightly ahead of him, to his right; veering towards it, Carlos pulled it open and ran inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

He stopped. A uniformed black guard stood in front of him, smiling. "Good morning, sir!" he said cheefully.

"Oh... hello..." Carlos looked around him. He was in some sort of art shop, with large colorful paintings adorning the walls; little busts and statues, odd–looking curios and objects were laid out on tables lining the large room. A good jazz song was streaming out of four large ceiling–mounted speakers as throngs of people bustled about, looking at the merchandise and chatting away as if they hadn't a care in the world.

The guard grinned at him. "Nice, huh? Go ahead, have a look around... see if you like anything!"

"Uh, ok..." Carlos murmured as he walked slowly into the room, gazing curiously around; the various enticements piqued his interest. His eyes fell on a large, beautiful but very strange looking conch shell; its strikingly brilliant colors compelled him to pause and contemplate it. Picking it up, he ran his fingers over its sublime curves as he studied the vivid hues that melded into each other, the jazz song meandering along pleasantly in the background. Forgetting himself, he began to relax as he stroked the smooth rings of the shell.

A few moments later Carlos heard a commotion coming from the back door he had just walked through. Suddenly remembering his situation, he dropped the conch and spun around to look, as three men in black suits burst into the room. The guard turned towards them, his friendly smile at the ready; as Carlos watched in horror, the men pulled small sub–machine guns from their jackets. One of them aimed his gun at the guard and pulled the trigger, spitting out a rapid–fire stream of bullets; taken completely by surprise, the man threw up his arms helplessly and began to do a spastic, horrible dance as the little lead missiles tore into his uniformed body. He spun around, collapsing against the wall and staining it with blood as people began to shriek.

Panicking, Carlos turned and once again took flight; behind him he could hear shots ringing out in rapid succession as the screams escalated, reverberating through the room along with the bullets. Once again his body felt heavy and slow, as if it were laden with weights. He struggled to run, feeling like he was moving in slow motion; ahead of him he could see a doorway to his right and he made for it, forcing his body to move along. Upon reaching it, Carlos quickly pushed it open and entered another room, slamming the door shut behing him; there was no lock.

He scanned the room for a window to escape through, but could see no windows or doors other than the one he had just come through. Terrified, he looked for a place to hide, but there were none; only a row of cabinets running along the bottom of one of the walls. They looked too small to fit in.

Outside the room Carlos could hear the din rising; shots kept ringing out, as the screaming grew louder and more intense. His fear rising like a hot air balloon, he dropped to the floor and pulled open one of the cabinet doors; the interior was larger than the door. If he could squeeze through it he could hide inside the small cabinet. He had no other choice. On his knees, Carlos began trying to force his body through the small space; after a few painful seconds he managed to wedge himself into the cabinet. Rolled up into a painful little ball, he reached back, pulled the door shut, and waited.

He could clearly hear the hellish turmoil outside. Shots rang out repeatedly, ceaselessly, as the screaming increased; it sounded like complete madness. On the verge of giving up all hope, Carlos suddenly heard a loud authoritarian voice yelling out a command.

"Police! Drop the guns! NOW!!" Incredibly, the police were already on the scene; how could they have gotten there so fast? Carlos didn't care; all he knew was that he was going to be saved. The police would subdue the gunmen, and then he could safely come out of his dark little hole. And not a moment too soon; his limbs were already starting to cramp, demanding to be relieved. His heart was beating so fast he thought he would go into cardiac arrest. Carlos tried to calm himself, thanking God that the police were there and his painful ordeal would soon be over.

But the shots, shouts and screams only increased in intensity, until they had built up into something that sounded like a full–fledged military battle. His body began to tremble as fright overcome him again; would the police be able to prevail over the three gunmen? How many cops were there? Were they only armed with their handguns? The three assassins were packing deadly automatic machine guns! Carlos' heart sank like a stone as he began to hear the yelling cops howl in anguish... they were being helplessly cut down, outgunned by the heavily armed trio.

Carlos shut his eyes as the din slowly ebbed, then stopped completely; there was complete silence. Wedged up in his cramped hiding place he waited, hardly daring to breath. He heard the door to the room outside opening, and footsteps approaching. They were coming straight to him.

He was going to die. It had finally happened; his young life was coming to its end. It had been a strange life, Carlos thought to himself. Very strange... but it would soon be done. He braced himself for the worst.

The footsteps stopped just outside his cabinet. A few seconds later he heard a gentle knock on the cabinet's door. "Oh, Carlos... are you in there?" someone asked, in a mock–polite voice. He heard two other voices start to laugh, cruelly; their mocking laughter slowly increased in volume and intensity until it penetrated the wooden walls of the cabinet, reverberating in his ears.

Painfully cramped into his dark little space, Carlos began to convulse in fear. He didn't want to die! He wanted to live now... more than ever. Putting his hands together, Carlos began to pray to God to save him. "Please, please, God... I don't want to die... I don't want to die!" But he knew it was no use.

The knocking started once again. "Time to come out, Carlos! Its time to come out... and die like a man!"

Then, coming faintly over the polite knocking and incredibly loud laughter, Carlos thought he could hear Katrina's voice calling out to him. He tried to lift his head and hit it on the ceiling of his confine. Then he heard it again, louder this time: "Carlos! Carlos! I'm here!"

He couldn't believe his ears. Katrina was out there! No... it couldn't be! Where had she come from? He had to come out now; he had no other choice. He had to try to save Katrina...

The knocking grew louder and his body began to tremble hard, as if someone was shaking him. Making a supreme effort, Carlos managed to raise one leg a little ways. Taking a deep breath, he kicked out at the door as hard as he could, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Carlos! Carlos, wake up! Wake up!" Katrina's voice was sounding loudly in his ear now.

Carlos opened his eyes with a start, entering another world. He was lying in Katrina's bed; Katrina was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders. Songbirds outside were singing ecstatically as gentle morning sunlight poured through the large bay windows and a skylight, illuminating the beautiful room; someone was knocking gently on the bedroom door.

"Katrina! Wake up! Carlos is going to miss his flight!" It was Katrina's mother, Gail; she was outside the room, knocking on Katrina's door.

"Carlos, wake up! You're dreaming again..." Katrina stopped shaking him and caressed his chest. "It's alright, honey, I'm here... you're safe with me... it's alright, it's alright..."

Carlos looked up at Katrina's worried face, the fear still showing in his eyes. It had been one of the worst nightmares he had ever experienced, and he had suffered some really mean ones; visibly shaken, he reached out and took Katrina's hand, squeezing it softly.

"Katrina! Wake up!" Gail continued knocking on the door outside as Carlos came completely back to reality... and sanity. Thank God, it was just a dream... just another bad dream. But it had seemed so real...

"Hold on mom, I'm coming!" Katrina threw aside the covers and jumped out of the bed, turning quickly to give Carlos another caress before going to the door to let her mother in. Carlos watched her skipping lightly across the room in her short white slip and caught his breath; he would never get used to the sight of Katrina's beauty as he woke up in the morning. Exhaling slowly, he sat up as Katrina opened the door for her mother. Gail entered the room holding a large silver tray with little legs; it was to be breakfast in bed for Carlos and Katrina.

"Carlos, you overslept! I made you some eggs so you won't be late for the airport... Katrina, why didn't you set your alarm clock? Carlos mustn't miss his flight!" Gail set the tray down in Carlos' lap, smiling.

"I forgot," said Katrina, winking at her mother. Gail giggled in delight as she sat down on the large bed beside Carlos, who by this time had fully recovered from his night terrors.

"Oh Gail, thank you... you just averted a complete disaster!" Carlos smiled back, quickly picking up his fork and spiking a clump of scrambled eggs. She had brought them the works; bacon, eggs, buttered toast, orange juice, coffee... completely forgetting his dream, he dug into his delicious breakfast with gusto as Katrina looked on, smiling contentedly.

Katrina's mother had initially been dismayed when her daughter had told her that she was in love with the notorious musician, but after meeting Carlos she had begun to resign herself to it; then she had actually started to like Carlos. Soon she had found herself thanking God that he had come into her daughter's troubled life and brought her so much happiness; she had been sick with worry over her daughter's depression, which not even her fabulous new acting career could completely alleviate. Now Katrina seemed positively ecstatic, and Gail was overjoyed; her beloved daughter had finally found someone she could live with, and grow with. Someone she could bloom with.

Katrina had told her that she was waiting for Carlos to work up the courage to propose marriage, but that she didn't want to distract him from his upcoming tour that would firmly establish his band and make him completely financially independent, since it was his poverty that was stopping him from proposing to her. Gail had assured her daughter that no matter what happened, they would both be welcome to live at home with her if they chose. After losing her husband in the horrible car accident, the fact was that Gail had no desire to live in the spacious mansion all by herself, and welcomed the prospect of having them both there. She had jokingly told Katrina that she would stay out of their way.

"Gail, these eggs are just the cat's pajamas, I tell you! Who taught you how to make eggs like these? See I told you Katrina, Gail should have opened a restaurant... she would have made a fortune!" Carlos raised his coffee mug in a toast, then took a savory sip as Katrina and her mother laughed appreciatively.

"We've got to fatten you up, dear... you and Katrina are both too skinny. Katrina, eat your breakfast, you have to get Carlos to the airport on time!" Gail picked up Katrina's plate from the tray and handed it to her; Katrina took it and went to a small table by her bed. As she sat down, Gail's enormously fat huge black cat walked into the room, miowling obnoxiously.

"C'mere, Nightmare! Here, kitty kitty!" Katrina bent down and extended her hand as the bloated feline came running to her. She picked him up and began stroking his smooth black fur.

Gail got up from the bed. "Oh, I suppose I have to go feed Mr. Snooty now... my lord and master." Sighing, she walked over and took the cat from Katrina, who immediately picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. "I'll be downstairs... let me know if you need anything, kids." Gail walked out of the room, holding the braying cat in her arms.

"Have you talked with David yet?" Katrina asked Carlos after her mother had gone.

"No, not yet, and he's probably going to punch me out when I tell him," Carlos said, sipping his orange juice.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Katrina put down her toast and looked at him anxiously.

Carlos looked at her and laughed. "I was just kidding, Katrina! No, but he's not going to like it one bit. I am not looking forward to breaking the news to him." He picked up his hot coffee mug and took a cautious sip.

Katrina frowned and continued eating her breakfast, as Carlos put down his coffee and enthusiastically finished off his own. But he was dreading his meeting with his singer/partner. After promising Slasher that they would never again have to share a stage with any more geek–rock posers, Carlos had felt it necessary to give Frank Fortune permission to book them as openers for Genius Genesis, an incredibly mediocre band which had been started by two embarrassingly substandard songwriters named Phil Gabriel and Peter Collins. This ass–dragging joke of a rock and roll band had been effortlessly elevated to superstar status by the David Geeken/NTV starmaking machine that now controlled rock and roll, or what was still left of it after their usurpation. Their manager had desperately offered Frank Fortune so much money to have his boys add some spice and credibility to the ridiculously blah–lah Genesis concert that he had felt compelled to tell Carlos about the lucrative opportunity, even though he was sure Carlos would reject it. But Carlos had instantly agreed without an argument, his hard–bitten upbringing having taught him to never turn down such a large sum, especially for having to endure only a few short hours of misery. Fortune had reluctantly accepted the dirty Geeken money, but later felt remorse for telling Carlos about it. There was something very sad in the way Carlos demeaned himself in his single–minded quest to attain financial security; seeing him prostitute his prodigious talent like that was absolutely shameful. But it would definitely be their last ridiculous gig before the Grand Tour of the UFS supporting real superstars like Van Norrisman.

Katrina took another sip of her orange juice. "Carlos... you know, you didn't have to open for those idiots... you're going to make all kinds of money from your tour! You've made it now, you're in demand!" Katrina smiled proudly at him.

"I haven't made it yet, honey... but I will! Don't worry 'bout a thing." Carlos picked up the silver tray from his lap and placed it on the bed besides him. Throwing the covers off of himself, he started getting up from bed.

"Hmmmpph! You're going to be rich in a few months! You shouldn't feel you have to grovel like that..." Katrina scolded.

"I'm not rich yet, babe! Anything could happen! I'll get there... but I'm sure as hell not going to pass up 50K until I do!"

"But you have so much talent! You're guaranteed to make it! And besides, even if you're band flopped... which it WON'T! But even if it did honey, you could always live here and go to school... you're so intelligent, you could be anything you want! You do not have to compromise yourself anymore, Carlos."

"Katrina, I still don't have any money, honey..." Carlos walked over and kissed the top of Katrina's head.

"But I do, bubba–boo!" Katrina reached up and pinched Carlos' cheek, smiling.

"Oh, no you don't! You're not going to make me your kept man, girl! A man's gotta' have his own!" Carlos bent down and kissed Katrina on the lips. "Sorry about the coffee," he said, grinning. "Ooh, I'd better jump in the shower! Can I use yours? Or are you going to make me hike two miles down that hallway to the palatial baths?"

Katrina laughed. "No, just use this one... oh, I'd better jump in there with you, we've only got one hour to make it to the airport..."

"Um, maybe you'd better not... I'm late enough as it is!" Carlos looked at her with real concern on his face, as Katrina burst into racous laughter. "Oh no you don't!" she said. Grasping his arm, she rose and began leading him across the thick, plush white carpet to her private bathroom. "You're not that late!"

Carlos followed Katrina meekly into her colorfully–tiled bathroom.

"Aw, what the hell... the Genesis geniuses can sit on it," he thought to himself, smiling. "If I blow the 50K, I blow it... at least it'll be worth it!"

***************

_______________________________________
Copyright 2019 by Charles Adrian Trevino.