lunes, 6 de septiembre de 2010


It's not so hard to believe that, with any semblance of civilization gone, humans have gone to a state of brutal barbarism.

Here I am, in what it used to be one of the most luxurious residential communities, now turned into a fortress. Hell, look at how the city turned out with just one heavy solar activity. Granted, it took out a lot of the things we so selflessly depended on, and Mexico wasn't particularly a peaceful country a few months back before the Fires, but all this turned it for the worst. I thought about the horror stories some of the survivors told me when I was at the hospital: Former friends, colleagues and acquaintances turning on each other, the rampant murder, theft and rape from the unsuspected, the violence. Order was needed.

Justice was needed.

As I walked through la Joya, I saw more and more boarded up homes, but no one was to be seen. Only pikes in some parts of the streets. Some of them had heads. The smell of carrion, shit, and something worse was heavy in the hot summer sun. I gripped heavily on my beretta, when I heard the pickups coming back.

I was lucky enough to hide behind the houses when the cars passed through. They were driving slow, and on the lookout. I knew I should've disposed the bodies. They'll be looking for me; but on the other hand, they don't know it's just me, I could use that for my advantage. I could use diversions to take them out little by little, playing on their fear. I just needed a plan.

I moved slowly, following them down the road, I holstered the beretta, and got only my knife with me.

They finally arrived to an enormous mansion. The black wrought iron fence was immaculate, comparing it to the other houses. The house was white and pretty much intact, save for some impromptu towers made of wood, derelict debris, and some pieces of solid concrete. There were, it seemed for of them, each for every corner of the house. Beautiful cypress tress surrounded the house, but the apparent beauty of the place was removed because of the guards: Most of them were of bulky build, wide-bellied thugs, several of them had faux gold jewelery and well-armed. Sometimes they would go inside the building, and then I heard the screams. I moved slowly to the side of the house, taking care as to avoid the sight of the sentries, and saw that were several people, mostly woman and children, chained to the floor. How they looked, I dare not type even now, but let me write this: I will not suffer anyone to own or be a slave. Not anymore.

Among them, I saw the little girl the old man described. She was scared, and beside her, someone I knew from campus: Karen. Her pretty long dirty blond hair now ripped and ill-treated. She used to smile a lot, and was extremely friendly, now that was gone; instead, she now was battered and broken, a shell of a human, with her big brown eyes looking for an escape that will never be, and her pale skin now bruised and cut.

My wish was to get there, guns blazing, and once again become the knight in shinning armor as I did before, but these were not just a dozen soldiers, these were narcos, several of them, and I was in their turf. I needed to play this just right.

I waited for the night to come. I hid well in the houses and below cars. I moved quietly, I moved in the shadows, I kept my distance. When it was well near midnight, and even a bit after that. I moved. I took advantage that they were under very heavy sleep to get into the slave pens. I woke Karen up, told her to keep quiet. She nearly cried and hugged me, told me what happened: She and her boyfriend, trying to reach a military checkpoint, were ambushed; he fought tooth and nail, and went down fighting, but they still took her. She never let herself get touched by any of them, and she was beaten because of it, lost a couple of teeth as well, a premolar and second molar, both in the right. I told her we needed to move, and we needed to take the little girl with us, she asked me to help the rest, but I told her that, at least today, there was nothing we could do.

The other slaves woke up, and made a racket out of my situation, the guards were awake now. Shit.

We quickly moved as we could, picked the little girl and tried to make a run for it, but with all the people begging us to save them, it was too late, the sentries spotted us. They gunfire began, but this time we were able to make a clear run for our lives. I gave Karen my beretta, and she made good use of it.

We left the mansion like a bat out of hell, but the rest of the thugs were waiting for us outside. They turned spotlight on infront of us, and readied their guns. Behind us, in a balcony of the mansion, a man got outside. Probably the gang leader.

He simply told me I could not escape with his property, and that I surrendered. Me and Karen looked at each other in the eye, and smiled at me.

"Thank you" she said, with tears in her eyes. She pointed the gun and shot him dead.

The shock of the scene gave us enough time to shoot ourselves out of there. Karen got shot in the stomach, and I in the right arm.

Thank God I'm a leftie, motherfuckers.

The adrenaline kept us from falling to the ground, and kep shooting, sometimes we took the guns of the fallen, sometimes we made them shoot at each other thinking we splitted. Morning came, and the three of us were alive.

Treating Karen was difficult, but the books and the supplies were of great aid. I honestly thought she wasn't going to make it, due to the blood loss, but she's made of stubborn stuff. She helped me with the wounds both inthe leg as well as the arm, went out to my shelter. I didn't brought enough cans with me for all three of us, but I was able to do a makeshift sling and hunt some pigeons with it. We ate our fill, mostly of the breast, since that's where the most meat is in those things, but the rest had to be eaten as well, we can't just leave the rest like that. With the cans, some lighter fluid and bit of wood, and a bit of a very small net fence, we made a tiny grill in which to cook the pigeons.

We were close to the shelter, when I collapsed.

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