The Border Lords Read Online Free PDF Page B

at the center of, and some God and Jesus stuff.”
    “Shit.”
    “Any word out of San Ysidro or Yuma?”
    “None.”
    “Sean sounds apocalyptic. Like a crusader, an angel of vengeance. Like he’ll just keep on going.”
    “You think he’ll hit San Ysidro or Yuma?”
    “I think it would make some sense.”
    “We can’t patrol San Ysidro and Yuma without giving away the game . We can’t roll them up without busting Sean’s cover and loosing the wrath of the North Baja Cartel on him. So what are you saying?”
    “I’m saying that Ozburn sounds like he’s out of his mind.”
    “I’d say this morning proves it.”
    “We’re with Seliah now.”
    “Is she cooperating?”
    “Mostly.”
    Back inside Hood caught inquisitive looks from both women. He apologized for the interruption and stood behind the couch again and looked over Seliah’s shoulder.
    “Then,” she said. “Just a few days later, he writes this.”
    She highlighted another in-box letter and called it up.
    From: Sean Gravas [[email protected]]
    Sent: Saturday, September 17, 2011 6:22 p.m.
    To: Gravas, Seliah
    Subject: strength!
     
    Hey Sel,
     
    I pressed three hundred sixty pounds in the workout room about an hour ago—that’s the FIRST TIME I’ve ever done it! Weirdest thing. I haven’t been doing anything different, just trying to eat right and hitting the iron pile three times a week when I can and like MAGIC, up go those three hundred pounds. My pecs feel heavy and dead right now, but wow, it was really cool. And I’m not taking anything extra. It’s not that. I think it’s all my pent up passion for you. Every part of me still aches. Next time I get to hold you tight, LOOK OUT. But on the serious side, I think that SOMETHING or SOMEONE, whoever is watching over me these days, has put the bug in my head that I need massive STRENGTH to accomplish my mission. I agree, even though I still don’t know WHAT that mission is! But I’ll be ready! I pray all the time for guidance. I wish GOD would communicate back. Maybe HIS minutes don’t roll over. Hardly any sleep again last night. I hear everything at night and it’s SO LOUD. I watched a mouse walk across the floor and his nails sounded like my dog CLYDE when I was a boy, running down the tile hallway. The kitchen sink drips and it sounds like someone whacking a cardboard box with a wiffle ball bat. All the sounds blend together into a kind of music. I can actually HEAR melodies in it, like a far off RADIO. Some of them are really cool tunes. They blend and change and turn into other melodies. And I hear little tiny voices, singing. Finally I slept a few hours and the dreams were beyond weird. When I wake up I should be exhausted but I’m not. Maybe that’s tied in with the EXTRA strength, I don’t know. Bought a new pair of sunglasses today as the old ones just weren’t cutting the border glare down here. Seemed like every bit of car chrome and every window and mirror were flashing so bright at me, burning right into my eyes. Last night the MOON was too bright! So I hope these polarized ones help. Two hundred bucks but you get a FREE cleaning kit. Well, guess I’ll go see if I can pick up the front end of my Rover!
     
    Hugs from the circus strong man,
Sean
    “He’d been taking performance drugs?” asked Hood.
    “Years ago,” she said quietly. “He experimented briefly but didn’t like them.”
    “How often does he write?” asked Hood.
    “Every day now. Sometimes two or three times.”
    “Does he have themes that repeat?” asked Bly.
    “His mission—whatever it might be. That someone or something is protecting him, beside him, guiding him. Lack of sleep, terrible dreams when he does sleep. Hyperactivity. Sexual desire. Melancholy. Sensitive vision, sensitive hearing, sensitive skin. Sore muscles, sore joints. Thirst. Here, scroll through them. It’s kind of personal but you can see for yourself.”
    Bly squared the laptop to her and chose from the in-box. Hood