WOODCREEK

Michael Woodcreek is in grave danger; tension rises as turf wars become more prevalent threatening his serene homestead...

WOODCREEK

CHAPTER SEVEN

Southside Houston, Texas

The full moon loomed from a distance, its pale and white glow draped the streets in silver light, spilling across Downtown, Houston. The shimmering full moon cast its light on the rooftops of damaged houses making shadows that seemed to dance in the darkest of nights. An eerie silence swept over the broken roads as two black SUV's pulled up their windows tinted like black ink parked in front of a house.

With their windows rolled down, a myriad of guns popped out of the windows-AK47 rifles and rented the seemingly abandoned houses with bullets. The bullets rippled through the rusted chain-link fence, sparks flashing as bullets struck steel. The MS-13 gang were reclaiming what was rightfully theirs a holy turf war against the Latino Kingz. Their tattoos covered up by black balaclavas so as to not hold any witnesses.

The Latino Kingz had tagged their yellow crown on one of their walls and this was revenge, all thanks to Michael Woodcreek and his shipment of the weapons from El Jeffe the Mexican drug baron. On the rooftop one of the Latino Kingz aimed with an AR-15, custom black with a thirty round mag sprayed its bullets on the car and burst through an MS13 gunman’s chest, killing him instantly in a pool of blood.

Shotguns roared; the sound of bullets lingered in the air as more Latino Kingz emerged from the house guns blazing. Windows shattered, dogs barked in the distance, babies were wailing and innocent lives lost from ricochet bullets. The block became a battlefield, the walls sprayed with blood instead of graffiti.

Sirens wailed from a distance but it was too late, bodies were piled up, blood was seen all over the neighborhood. Some attempted to flee only to be caught by stary bullets, a grizzly sight. EMT’s showed up much later providing first aid to all the injured folk and gangs.

Woodcreek ranch

Michael Woodcreek sips his Bourbon slowly.

“The perimeter is secure Mr. Woodcreek.” said El Cuervo

El Cuervo was a Latin American sicario with ties to the drug cartel in Guadalajara. El Jeffe sent for extra protection after he double crossed him sending a shipment of weapons which was not part of their deal. His tattoos covered his skin of skull and bones and on his back was the Virgin Mother of Jesus Christ. He was ex-communicated from the MS13 and was now working in contract basis as a sicario providing private security.

His hair was cropped short, his eyes were without soul and seemed to cut through Michael sharp as steel. Across his chest was a red rosary that dangled across his neck a charm that seemed to save his life over the years. He checked his pistol, a Glock 19 fitted with a suppressor. Across his back was an AR-15 rifle ready for action.

He seemed to always lurk in the shadows like a towering sentinel. His footsteps immutable and unchanged sure footed and precise.

“Okay El Cuervo,” said Michael Woodcreek.

He put down the glass of Bourbon and went into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich.

“Daddy…Have you seen my purple top?” asked Cassidy Woodcreek with a thick Texan accent.

“No I haven’t sweetie” replied Michael.

“Ask your mother” he added.

Lucy Woodcreek storms into the room.

“Michael what did I say about your men going upstairs?" asked Lucy.

“I am sorry, El Cuervo tell your men that the house is out of bounds especially upstairs” said Michael to Woodcreek.

“Okay boss” said El Cuervo radioing the new orders through his walkie talkie relaying the new instructions.

“Michael. How long are your men going to be here?” asked Lucy Woodcreek seemingly frustrated.

“Just until the smoke clears honey” said Michael caressing her hair and giving her a kiss on the cheek.