“I didn’t know there were jungles around Juarez,” Jack said as he swatted away mosquitoes.
“Si Senor,” responded Jose. “Mexico is nothing but jungle.”
The darkness of night provided the perfect cover for Jack and Jose, along with their motley crew of biker vigilantes. The gang passed around a bottle of tequila as they watched and waited several hundred yards away from the cartel’s compound. “Are you sure my father is being held here?” Jack asked Jose.
“Sí. We’ve been watching this place for several days.”
“I know Pablo Santora is behind this,” Jack added. “I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”
One of the bikers whispered over to Jose. “no reconozco a esta persona,” Jack heard.
Jose gazed through the binoculars towards the compound. “Jack, come here,” Jose said, “do you recognize this woman?”
Jack took the binoculars and scratched his head. “I don’t know who that is,” he replied, “but goddamn she’s tall.” He continued watching this mysterious woman through the window as she handed a large metal briefcase to none other than Pablo Santora. “I knew it!” Jack uttered to himself. The exchange lasted no more than a few minutes before the woman departed in a stretched limousine.
“Now’s a good time to launch the attack,” Jose said. Jack nodded and readied his .38. “Let’s go,” he declared.
The group marched through the muggy jungle until they were right on the perimeter. Without hesitation, a biker launched a flare into the air while another unleashed hell with a 50 cal. Suddenly the compound was lit up with explosions and tracer rounds.
“This is a little much, wouldn’t you say?” Jack shouted to Jose. Then the watchtower exploded from an RPG. Shattered glass and smoldering debris fell onto the men below. “I think it’s the right amount,” Jose retorted.
With the compound covered in fire like it’s the coming apocalypse, the gang marched through the gates and fired on anything that moved. Jack kicked open every door and looked under every pile of rubble looking for his father. Jose found a critically injured member of the cartel whose skin was smoldering and guts splayed out over the ground.
“Donde esta Rod Hardcock?!” Jose shouted to the dying man. But all the poor bastard could utter was “agua…agua.” So Jose emptied his .45 into him.
“No luck so far,” Jose told Jack. Then one of the bikers shouted “lo encontré!” Jack rushed to the portly biker and beside him was a tipped over porter john. And inside the porter john was a shit-caked Rod Hardcock.
“Jack, goddamn you, why did you come?!” Senor Hardcock told his son.
“Don’t worry Dad, I’m gonna make Pablo pay for this!”
Jose inquisitively look around him. “Has anyone found Pablo?”
Suddenly Hueys began whooshing overhead. Before Jack could react, he felt a bullet cut clean through his abdomen.
TO BE CONTINUED….
The Internet Ruined Everything 