by Dana Arama
We both looked at Alex, who took out an elastic band, the syringe and the tools to warm up the drug. In practice, one could administer the drug in any way, but from experience, the injection causes the feeling of helplessness. To someone who understands all this, the preparations also become part of the nightmare. The boy understood and started to shake.
Aldo said, “Tell me when I have to pin him down, boss.”
“I have a suggestion for you,” The boy suddenly remarked. I looked at him and realized he was on the verge of tears. His eyes looked like Bambi’s had when he lost his fucking mother and his lower lip began to quiver. “What do you want to offer me? What can you offer me besides the truth?”
“I can offer you the information I found out about Ashley’s father. But I will do it only if you promise me not to inject me with the drug.”
“Let’s decide that if the information is worth something, I won’t inject you, and if it isn’t worth anything, I will inject you with a double dose.”
“A double dose?”
“The kind that will kill brain cells.”
***
“I totally don’t understand anything about the drug world,” he whispered, his eyes never left the syringe that was on the table. “But I think that if someone is fighting the smugglers from Mexico and he has an action plan, then people like you would want to know about it, right?”
“Explain yourself,” I ordered him.
“Ashley asked me to find her father and I succeeded in doing that.” He glanced at me and asked, “Can we turn that thing off in the meantime?” And he pointed at the smoking device.
I allowed Aldo to do it with a nod of my head and he turned it off.
“I managed to find Ashley’s father and even managed to get into his personal computer. Apparently after he caught her smoking marijuana, they had a fight and she ran away from home. He looked for her for over half a year and then he left Texas and moved to Arizona. Apparently, there is some civilian force who is fighting the smugglers and he is the leader of this force. So, I found all his action plans and which tunnels he has found and things like that. Would that be of any interest to you?”
I didn’t answer him. I crossed my hands behind my neck and stretched. I started thinking about the meaning of this information. As I got to thinking I realized the implications of it, the power it might grant me. I hated superlatives, but information really was powerful… Depending, of course, on how it was used. I jumped up from where I was sitting and walked around the room a bit. I didn’t want him to see my excitement, so I stood by the window and moved the curtain aside.
“Where is this information?
“In Ashley’s father’s computer.”
“Okay… I have a computer here,” I pointed towards where the computer terminal was.
“Go into his computer and download all this information.” The terminal wasn’t even connected to the internet. The girls only played solitaire on it. I wanted to check to see if he was just trying to stall for time and fool me.
“I need my computer for that.” He looked around for his black bag, “I have all kinds of software to help me do it,” he explained to me, as if I was a child and it annoyed me. I said, “Before I return your computer to you, I want an answer about what I asked you earlier. Why did you and your friends come to the casino?” I nodded to Aldo to start the fire again.
The kid was frightened. He started talking a mile a minute. “Promise you won’t hurt them! They only wanted to see if they could count the cards.”
I smiled. So that was his big secret. “So? Did they manage?”
“Sure,” He smiled, a bit nervously, and then became serious again. “But they lost all the money. Almost all of it… except for the gas money. It was just for the thrill.”
“The first time it is for the thrill. The second time they will want to win… and then we will catch them. So, it will be an experience they won’t want to repeat.”
“Of course not. I promise we won’t ever return to your casino”
I asked myself if he will ever go anywhere at all and I wasn’t exactly sure.
“Alex, give him back his computer.” I didn’t hear any movement and turned to look back to see Alex and Aldo in their own high. I went over to him and slapped him hard. He got himself together. “If you can’t function on this shit, then don’t use it while you’re on duty.” I warned him. “Give him back his computer.”
Usually I would have taken the situation more lightly, but I thought showing the kid some violence would make for better performance. My thoughts were flying through my head a mile a minute, like a train with no brakes, as if I was on something. What else could I use the boy for? How much was he worth? How much could I sell him for? Did his Israeli citizenship make him more attractive? And the biggest question of them all: Should I really be selling the goods to the terrorists or should I keep them for myself?
Guy Niava,
On the flight to Chiapas, November 13, 2015 03:00 a.m.
Zorro’s voice could barely be heard above the noise of the old motor. “I think we should paint ourselves now,” she yelled, took out the color from her bag and passed the box to me.
I opened it, put the lid beside me, and took out a light green color, and leaned towards her. “What a pity to hide such a pretty sight…” With spare movements I applied the color to her face. I added darker colors to the prominent areas to block out the facial lines, and other shades of green and brown to hide the human features. I lingered purposefully over the erogenous areas, the areas that I had gotten to know mere hours earlier, areas which were especially sensitive. She laughed and stroked my hand.
When I was finished with Zorro’s face, I turned to Laura. “You have to apply the camouflage on your face,” I shouted. “Would you like me to help you?”
She grabbed the box from my hand and muttered, “I can color myself, thank you very much.”
I had just finished painting my face when the pilot said, in an indifferent tone, “You’re getting close to the area.”
His young son, the spitting image of the father, only without the wrinkles, opened the aircraft door. We stood in a line near the entrance. Zorro had been insistent that she hold the GPS device. She would navigate, we would follow, and we would all arrive safely back home. She had one stick light on her helmet. Laura had two, so I could tell them apart.
Both women were good partners for this mission. They had a lot in common, aside from their looks. From the moment the decision had been made and Laura decided to go along with it, I saw that they both had level-headedness, were decisive and responded quickly to situations. I could hear their breathing through the headphones. They were ready. Not too excited, not too indifferent. The pilot’s son touched Zorro’s shoulder and she jumped. A half a second later Laura jumped too, and I jumped last.
The contrast between the noise of the plane’s struggling motor and the stillness of the heavens was almost hypnotic. I could hear through the earpiece the sounds of my partners breathing quickening, the noise of the wind mingling with the transmissions.
“Good jump girls,” I said quietly and added, “We’ll land on the light spot down below.” For some reason that affected one of them, because her breathing seemed to calm.
From up high, it looked as if the east was hinting to us that, in a short while, it would color the skies a pale red. The forest looked black, as if the trees had swallowed up the moonlight. The ploughed field was brown, as if the good land was shining specially for the paratroopers trying to land there. We still had about five kilometers to glide down and I could only hope that no-one had heard the receding plane or had seen three parachutes decorating the skies.
We braced ourselves to land against the wind. “Remember to break properly, so no-one injures an ankle on landing,” I reminded them. Sometimes even a ploughed field could be hazardous to a paratrooper.
“In a short while the sun will be up. Collect your parachutes quickly,” I said.
Zorro was the first one to announce, “I’ve landed and I’m okay.”
I was next.
Then I heard two very bad noises, simultaneously. The sound of Laura’s cry of pain, then the gunshots. Laura called out, “I’ve been injured!” And then all was silent.
***
Without stopping to collect the parachutes, Zorro and I distanced ourselves from the open field. When the line of trees had hidden us, we stopped to assess the situation. The parachutes and the other equipment, which now became a burden, were no longer important. We had been found out sooner than anticipated. I called out, “Laura… Laura answer!” But she did not answer. We tried to ascertain where she was situated. Could they have found her, shot her and picked her up so quickly? Throughout this whole journey there had been someone always one step ahead of me, and I didn’t like that idea.
I suddenly saw Laura’s parachute billow up slightly, which meant she was stuck in the middle of the field. We had no choice but to expose ourselves again to get her out of there. My only hope was that the shooters didn’t have night-vision devices.
I was the first to smell cigarette smoke. In a forest such as this, the smell was so obvious and clear, it was like a fluorescent McDonald’s sign. I held on to Zorro’s arm and pulled her off the pathway and we quickly went into the forest thicket without breaking any twigs. Between the dense trees lay the damp leaves, which swallowed up the noise of our footsteps and covered our tracks.
I could make out three youngish men with drawn rifles and they were looking for something. Most probably us. They were quiet. They walked professionally, but one of them had a cigarette in his mouth. In the forest, amongst the smell of mildew and flowering, in the midst of light decay and earth, a burning cigarette was a clear sign of humans and we preferred to stay away from humans.
Zorro signaled three and a finger on the throat and then on them, and I signaled negative. First of all, because we had no reason to leave a trail of bodies behind us. And second, they most probably hadn’t arrived on foot and there could be a whole platoon of cartel soldiers or other soldiers nearby, waiting as backup. I didn’t have time to signal to her a ‘don’t move’ before the sound of a vehicle’s motor echoed through the air. Momentarily, a Jeep with another three young men appeared. I didn’t see any night-vision equipment on them, which put me at ease. We waited for them to drive further away and then we came out of our hiding place.
“I want you to stay here, at the tree line, with your eye on the telescopic lens on the rifle,” I said to Zorro. I surveyed the area. I knew that even though the Jeep and the foot soldiers had gone, it didn’t mean that there weren’t any more soldiers following their tracks as well. “I have to advance towards the field and get Laura out of there.” I didn’t have to tell Zorro that their eyes were also aimed at the same field, and if they caught a glimpse of the parachute then both Laura and I would be in trouble.
Zorro nodded and laid down with her legs spread on the moist ground, her rifle ready to fire. I looked around once more and concentrated again on the sounds and the smells of the forest. I had no more than a moment because the skyline was getting lighter frustratingly fast. I had no choice but to move, and began to sprint, close to the ground, towards the center of the field. All the while, I kept calling her name. “Laura, wake up. Answer me.”
But she was silent.
When I reached her, I understood why. She had twisted her ankle in such a position. If it wasn’t broken, it would be a miracle. As a result of her bad landing, the parachute had wrapped itself around her. I fought to get to the straps and release her. I prayed she hadn’t been strangled to death. I drew the knife strapped to my leg and cut through the cords. Laura lay there, covered with hundreds of silk threads, looking like a butterfly pupa. I then felt my way along her body in order to release the clasps of the parachute and quickly free her from them.
When she was freed from all unnecessary equipment, I slung her over my shoulder and hurried back to the forest. I heard the shots and felt the bullet that scorched my flesh. I ignored the temptation to lie on the ground and shoot back. I had to get back into the safety net of the forest.
I spoke to Zorro over the headset. “I am being shot from the north, cover me!” I picked up speed and zigzagged. Laura’s weight became marginal. The problem was the ploughed ground under my feet. I just needed to get to the pathway. I heard more shots and the whiz of a bullet pass close by me and felt something ricochet off my leg. How much luck was needed to hit a rock in the middle of a ploughed field? I hoped they had run out of luck.
In my earpiece I could hear Laura groaning. At least she was waking up out of unconsciousness. On the other hand, soon she would start feeling the pain. I didn’t even want to think about how she would continue with the mission on her injured foot.
Another burst of fire. They had changed direction and this time I saw the projectile tracers, which for them was a sign they were halfway through their magazine. It was a sign for me as well. How much ammunition did they have? I hoped that Zorro had also noticed. I didn’t hear her answer because of the silencer, but she was very accurate, as I heard cries in the local language. Even though I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, I recognized the curse words. It was a good thing she’d hit one of them, but it wasn’t good that she’d only injured him. Because a wounded, hot-headed soldier, shooting at me with an automatic weapon as I made my way through a never-ending field was not a good thing. Another burst of fire and this time I recognized the sound of pistol bullets as well. This didn’t sound good. I was already feeling frustrated with these bad signs.
Zorro fired a few more shots to the same spot as before. She was assuming they weren’t on the move. As before, I heard no shots, but rather their angry responses. Zorro had turned herself into their target and I hoped her position was safe and well-guarded.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, panting, still running towards safety.
“Yes… Changing position.” She was impressively cool-headed. I could hear it in her voice.
I don’t know how I managed to collect myself and accelerate on the soft ground. The last five meters of the exposed area I covered in three large strides, managing to glide over to the trees. On the other side of the pathway, I unexpectedly slipped on the wet leaves accumulated there and lost my grip on Laura. The angle her body fell told me we were on a slope. At the last minute, I managed to grab hold of a protruding root with my right hand, and with my left, I grabbed onto Laura’s belt. I felt around with my legs. Eventually, I managed to hook my shoes on a bulge I couldn’t quite see. Only when I was well anchored did I look down. I realized that miraculously, we hadn’t fallen off the cliff into the gushing river below. Apparently, I had run too far north, past the spot from which I’d left.
“Zorro, I need you to go back carefully at least two hundred meters northbound. I am in a compromised position here. Quickly.”
I was panting as if I was holding a ton. It was because of the altitude -- the air was thin, lacking enough oxygen to feed my unaccustomed lungs. And worse, the enemy was acclimated to these heights, which gave them an advantage.
“I’m packing up here. They’re too many to take on anyway.”
Another blast of bullets, then Zorro said quietly that she was okay. “They’re shooting randomly into the forest. Go further into the thick of the forest,”
“Can’t… We’re on a slippery slope, about to fall from the cliff.”
In the earpiece I heard Laura groaning. The pain was entering into her consciousness and she was awakening. Maybe the blood flowing to her head affected that. She said that she and Zorro were both level-headed, but I thought she might need a bit of heads-up as she came to.
“Laura, I need you to wake up without panicking.” I
spoke quietly and calmly to her, assuming she was going to open her eyes soon and see the abyss underneath. I didn’t want her to make any sudden moves. My other assumption was that the enemy might be on the path above us and I didn’t want them to hear us.
She opened her eyes and saw where we were and asked, “Why am I hanging over a river? Is my ankle broken? I feel dizzy...”
“I don’t think it’s broken,” I lied. “You are dizzy because of the lack of oxygen. I need you to look around you carefully and see if there is something you can hold onto.”
The blood oozing from the gunshot wound in my right arm was dripping on my goggles, blurring my sight. “See if you can hold onto something, but don’t lean on your sore foot.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself onto a small ledge she found between a tree trunk and the ground nearby. I felt her weight leave my arm and I steadied myself.
