Pablo and Petra by Tom Kropp

Pablo and Petra by Tom Kropp

Pablo felt suicidal. That was nothing new. He was 17 and lived in a shack along the edge of the slums in Honduras. His shack was one room with a dirt floor without plumbing or electricity and he walked a half mile for clean drinking water. There was no local school and there were very few jobs or hope for building a better life. His father was a laborer doing a job hundreds of miles away and hadn’t written money to the nearest city in many miles away. His mom had left a week ago to get the money and hadn’t returned. He feared she’d been robbed and killed. His brother was recently killed by a new local gang that had massacred and ran off the former gang, his brother ran with. That local new gang running the region had seen Pablo’s pretty little sister and were planning to abduct her for sex trafficking, even though she was only 11 because she looked older.

The law offered almost no protection in the slums. Officers made little money and accepted bribes from the gangs and the crime cartel bosses that the gangs often worked for. The prisons were horrific making prisoners starve and live cramped in deplorable conditions where beatings, rapes and killings occurred constantly. Prisoners only survived by joining gangs, paying protection, or being incredibly tough at cage fighting.

A neighbor had warned Pablo that the new gang would be coming to take Petra. She was a lovely little girl with dark hair and eyes and a fine figure already forming. Pablo was also dark haired and brown eyed with good looks and a lean build. He wasn’t a great fighter or even a super brave kid. When attacked, he fought back. But his dead brother Ernesto was usually around to protect him. Ernesto’s gang had protected the family. Those days were gone and poor Pablo desperately wanted to protect Petra, but he didn’t know how. Petra’s only hope was if Pablo took her and ran away, even though they had no money and no other home to stay at. Pablo stared up at the stars and said a prayer hoping for some divine intervention to save his sister.

Pablo suddenly squeezed his baseball bat and cowered in the shadows of his rooftop position. He counted three silhouettes bristling with guns covertly approaching his little home, where Petra was sleeping. Pablo’s heart started thumping so hard and loud in his ears he feared the gangsters could hear it. The frightened part of his mind proposed that he stay hidden where he was in his roof valley. The gangsters would take Petra and go. If he tried to stop them he would die and they would take Petra anyways. There was nothing he could do to stop them. Opposing them meant death.

But Pablo loved his sister enough that dying trying to protect her was better than living with letting her be abducted and turned into a gang raped victim and life as a sex slave.

The trio split up around the house. One walked about 30 feet from Pablo. Pablo braced his heart determined to die well. He rose slightly and hurled his homemade bat like he’d often practiced. His hand carved wood weapon swooped through space with a soft hum. The bat cracked on impact as it smacked the gangster atop his skull. The wood sledged his head so hard it crushed his cranium, almost killing on contact. Pablo followed his throw, leaping from the roof like a superhero. Pablo’s pugnacious pounce made him drop atop the dying gangster and he grabbed the gun. Pablo’s moving hands in the darkness accidentally tugged the trigger. It scythed the sky with shots and strobes of muzzle fire. He stopped shooting and gained control of the gun.

The next nearest gangster rushed around the house, where Pablo was laying in shadows. Pablo could see the gangster’s silhouette against the stars waving a weapon. From his prone position, Pablo pointed his stolen pistol and pulled the trigger. The night was ignited in another flare of muzzle fire and his bedlam burst of bullets butchered the gangster’s body.

His foe flailed and was tumbling under the bullet blows tunneling holes through his torso. The falling foe fanned fire wildly Pablo’s way. Pablo felt a wasp sting his side. The rest of the rounds raked high above Pablo. Pablo released his trigger and lowered his jumping gun as the gangster dropped dying. Pablo touched his ribs. A bullet had slashed his side superficially.

The third gangster rounded the house from the other side while calling to his companions. Pablo remained on the ground. The gangster almost tripped over the dead gangster and then fired the first burst in his buddy’s body accidentally while he blindly peppered near Pablo’s position. Pablo leveled his barrel against the third gangster’s silhouette lined by the stars on his back. That gangster didn’t see Pablo’s hidden position. Pablo squeezed a stream of shots that flew true chopping in the chest and neck of the gangster. The fatally shot foe blindly broadcasted bullets heavenwards. He died with ghastly gurgles from the blood flooding his lacerated lungs. Then he went silent.

Petra screamed from inside the house.

“Surrender or I’ll shoot this little girl!” A gangster shouted out three times. Petra screamed again and a slap echoed.

Pablo knew if he surrendered, Petra would still be taken and he would be killed. Pablo’s gun was empty. His brother had shown him how to use a gun. Pablo ejected the clip and slipped a fresh one in that he grabbed off the dead gangster. He crept through the dark backyard. The gangster was shouting again for him to surrender. He ignored it. The gangster appeared against the half-moon as the clouds cleared away briefly. He had Petra clutched close to him as a shield and his weapon waving around. Pablo couldn’t risk shooting. As the gangster crossed the corner, Pablo risked life and limb darting from the darkness to collide in combat tackling the gangster. His opponent’s gun stuttered shots that arrowed overhead. On the ground they wrestled for the weapon until it was sent flying aside.

Pablo’s foe flooded his face with punches. Pablo was smaller, weaker, and less skilled than the gangster he was grappling. He was being battered half senseless by the strikes. Petra dashed at the man’s back and attacked, clawing around at his face. The man screamed and swatted her with a backhand blow that laid her for a brief moment, Pablo wiggled like a weasel out from under the gangster and grabbed the gun. He spun it and jerked the trigger. The Uzi chattered and hammered the gangster’s body, belting him back in a battery of bullets. He died choking on blood messily.

The barrage of blows took a toll on Pablo. He blacked out briefly.

He woke up with Petra hugging him and crying.

“Don’t die Pablo! Wake up!” she pleaded.

“Shh quiet, Petra. There could be worse men.” he warned while waking up. “I’m OK.”

“What will we do?” she sobbed softly.

“We run and fight if we must.” Pablo answered grimly.” And we leave right now after we search these men for money.”

Pragmatically Pablo went to each body taking their extra clips of ammo and one other gun, along with their money. He walked away with a nice amount of cash in his pockets. Petra and Pablo stuffed some stuff in sacks and left their shack for the last time. It was sad how little was in their sacks.

They were leaving childhood behind heading into the ugly adult world towards the nearest city ten miles away, and that was where their mother went when she disappeared. He felt fairly certain something horrible had happened to her. Perhaps he could find out if he went there. The dead gangsters’ money would be a big help to start out. But to reach the city they had to cross through enemy territory. Soon enough the bodies would be discovered. The other gangsters would want revenge. The cops might arrest him. That thought led him to wipe the gun free of his prints and he put it in another dead man’s hand. He kept two guns for protection. Now it would look like one of the dead men killed the others. He grabbed his bat that he’d bludgeoned the first gangster to death with. He’d chucked it in the river along the way. He worried the other cops witnessing what happened. But the neighbors were unlikely to tell cops anything they might have seen.

As they walked away he softly warned Petra.” We have to move quietly. The other gangsters will be after us. The cops might come after us. We’re going to travel across country avoiding roads and spots the cops might look for us if they come look for us and it’ll be a tough trip. I need you to listen to me. OK?”

“OK, brother.” Petra agreed and took his hand.

Pablo squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Bravely he led his little sister into the darkness ahead.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Tom Kropp 2025

Image Source: Ali Arif Soydaş from Unsplash