“A reverse what?” Private Tango whispered to his Team Leader.
“I don’t know,” replied Fire Team Leader Bravo. “Just run a shallow crossing route over the middle, and I’ll hit you between the linebackers.”
“Roger that.”
“Any questions?” the General asked. None of the men said a word. “Okay, then, obey my commands and protect yourself at all times.” Suddenly, the sound of automatic gunfire exploded from the other side of the rise. Through the din, the sounds of Ziggy’s and Private Zulu’s screams rang out. “Battle stations!” the General shouted. “Fire Team Leader Alpha, where are the weapons?”
“In the bus.”
“Why are they in the bus?”
“That’s where you said to store them.”
“Idiot! Get the weapons. The rest of you men, follow me.” The General turned and waddled his way up to the top of the rise with his troops in tow. Avery was the first one to the top. A group of six Mexican men were loading Ziggy and Private Zulu into the back of a pickup truck. The men were heavily armed. One of the men, one with long black hair, turned and looked back up toward the top of the rise.
“Retreat,” the General whispered as he ducked down and started back to the bottom, his troops right behind him. Avery didn’t move. He just watched the men below. Once Ziggy and Private Zulu were tossed into the bed of the pickup, the man with the long hair turned and climbed into the vehicle. It sped off across the desert floor.
“What the hell?” Fire Team Leader Alpha, halfway up the slope, his arms full of old deer rifles and shotguns in various states of disrepair, asked as the General stumbled past him toward the bus.
“Retreat!” the General cried out again.
“Retreating!” the men called out while running to catch up with the General.
“Flipping pig shit,” Fire Team Leader Alpha swore as he turned around with his load and followed the group. “Make up your damn mind.”
Meanwhile, at the top of the rise, Avery watched the truck pulling away into the distance, heading toward the farm. Over the distance, he could still hear Ziggy screaming out.
“Nannnnncccccy!”
Back at the Coyote’s Lair, the dejected men stared into half-finished bottles of beer.
“I can’t believe they got Zulu,” Private Foxtrot said.
“And the civilian, too,” added Private Tango. “This ain’t going to look good in our mission debrief.”
“My friends, I told you, that area is dangerous, no?” El Coyote passed out another round of beers. “Many people go missing there and are never seen again.”
“What are we going to do, General?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “We can’t just leave them behind, can we?”
“I’m strategizing on it,” the General replied as he rubbed his head.
“Mr. Coyote, do you have a telephone I may use?” asked Avery.
“Sure, my friend. It is behind the bar. Feel free.”
“What’s going on?” asked the General. Avery pulled a small piece of paper from his fanny pack.
“I’ve got an idea. Wait here.” Avery went to the bar, found the phone, and dialed a number. After it rang a few times, someone picked up the other end.
“Yes.”
“I’m trying to reach Enrique Montalban.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Gregory Kennesaw Mountain. He’s my legal advisor, or at least one part of the numerous legal experts that comprise my crisis team. He suggested I get in touch with a Mr. Montalban, if certain unfortunate circumstances arise. Can you please put me in touch with him? Immediately.”
“You are speaking to Enrique Montalban. Are you calling to settle Mr. Mountain’s significant gambling debt with me? I can assure you the accumulated interest is quite significant.”
“Not my concern. May I suggest you take the matter up with Mr. Mountain personally? He is usually sober by two or three in the afternoon, except for weekends and holidays, but the window of lucidity is rather small. Don’t wait until after four.”
“To whom am I speaking?”
“For now, just call me Rock Star.”
“What is the nature of your call, Mr. Star? Or should I just call you Rock?”
“I’m in a bit of a pickle. You see, I’m here in Mexico and seem to have misplaced a couple of friends.”
“Misplaced?”
“They were taken, actually.”
“Many people are taken in this country. It is not so uncommon. I suggest you contact the police.”
“Normally, that would be my first call. Well, not normally, but I’m not the most popular person with the authorities at the moment.”
“Are you a wanted man?”
“Most likely.”
“By who?”
“The government.”
“Which one?”
“All of them, I think. There’s also a little problem with the appropriate travel documents for several of the members in our party.”
“You’re in the country illegally?”
“We didn’t exactly sign in at the front desk, if you know what I mean.”
“What makes you think that I can help?”
“According to Confucius, if you toss a pebble into a pond, you get a ripple. If you toss a toaster into a pond, you get a bigger ripple, not to mention a whole lot of dead fish. What I mean to say is that, according to my attorney, you are the kind of man who can make a very big ripple.”
“You’re a very strange man.”
“Thank you. Genius is almost always misdiagnosed.”
“Besides you and your two missing colleagues, how many others are with you?”
“Six others.”
“Where are you currently?”
“A little place outside of Piedras Negras at a house of ill repute known as the Coyote’s Lair. Our friends were taken to a large farm not far from here.” There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I know the place you are at,” Mr. Montalban said after a few moments. “Stay there. I will make some calls and see what I can find out. Can you describe your two companions? The ones who are missing, so to speak.” Avery gave him a detailed description of Ziggy and Private Zulu. “Thank you, Mr. Rock Star. Once again, do not leave the Coyote’s Lair. Someone will be in contact with you. Someone who can help.”
“Thank you in advance for your kind assistance, Mr. Montalban. Now, make it snappy.”
“But of course.” Mr. Montalban hung up the phone.
“There, that was easy.” Avery returned to the group.
Back in New Orleans, Mae Mae rocked in her chair. The rocking chair was hand carved by her father. It was old, and it helped the elderly voodoo priestess to relax. Something wasn’t right with Mae Mae. She felt it in her bones. It ached deep within her. Her dreams had been crazy lately. Those two white fools. Mae Mae rubbed her temple. It didn’t help with her headache. Her granddaughter, in her little white dress, came through the purple strands of beads.
“Mae Mae, we need more whiskey.” The pretty little girl went to the back of the building.
“It’s up in there, child,” Mae Mae said in a hushed voice. “Take it all out, sweetie.”
“Mae Mae, you okay?” The little girl carried a case of liquor toward the front of the house.
“Hush, child. Leave me be.”
“Okay, Mae Mae.” The little girl looked over her shoulder with concern. The shouts from the bar in the front room grabbed the girl’s attention. “I’ll be back, Mae Mae. You just rest easy.” The girl disappeared through the purple beads.