Jack Hardcock: The Wrath of God (Part VI)

“How many times do I have to explain to you,” Jack stated while blindfolded and strapped to a chair, “I don’t understand the gibberish you are saying. I’m an American. And as an American, it is my goddamn right to only speak English. So you better get to speaking my language or you will be facing the wrath of God which won’t be seen again until the final days.”

Jack heard a loud guffaw then his blindfold was lifted. Before him stood an old, scarred up gentleman covered in tattoos. His teeth were rotted out and his breath reeked of tequila. “I am Jose Altuve and in this country we speak Spanish,” the man said.

Jack looked around and noticed a ragtag gang of Mexican bikers. Then he spat on the ground. “So what do you want from me?” Jack asked, “Are you the cartel?”

Following Jack’s lead, Jose and his gang all spat on the ground. “We are no cartel,” Jose ominously declared.

“Then why the abduction? What do you want with me?”

Jose ordered Jack to be cut free. The old tattered man then opened a bottle of tequila, took a swig and handed it to Jack. “The cartel runs this town,” Jose explained. “They killed my family. They’ve killed everyone I loved. The Federales do nothing! We are ones that stand in their way.”

“Cool story bro,” Jack said, “but what does that have to do with me? I’m in Juárez for one reason and one reason only: to rescue my father from this godforsaken place.”

“I know,” Jose said. Then he picked up an M16 and placed it in Jack’s lap. “We’re going to help you.”

Jack glanced at the weapon and looked back at Jose. “Why?” he asked.

“Because Rod Hardcock was one of us.”

Jack was shocked. “But…but how could that be?” he asked, “my father is a mule! I thought he worked with the cartel!”

Jose laughed. “That’s what he wanted you to believe,” he explained, “he wanted to keep you out of danger. If you believed that he worked with the cartel, Senior Hardcock thought you would stay away from here.”

“My father thought wrong. I can never escape danger. He should have told me this a long time ago!”

Jose popped a magazine into an M16 then placed a Desert Eagle and a Bowie knife under his belt. “Thank the Heavenly Father for sending you here,” he said, “because we’re hitting the cartel tonight. You’re one of us.”

Jack took a big gulp from the tequila bottle and picked up an M16. “Hand me my .38,” he ordered, “and do you guys have AKs? These things are pieces of shit.”


Jack Hardcock: The Wrath of God (Part V)

Pablo Santora pushed a shot glass across the bar. Jack picked up the glass and took one look at the liquid. “Tequila is piss water,” Jack said, “fortunately I like piss.”

After he swallowed the drink, Jack asked for another. Pablo laughed as he unscrewed the bottle. “I know why you’re in Juarez, Jack,” he said.

“Why am I in Juarez, Pablo?”

Pablo poured the tequila and leaned forward. “The cartel the coming for you,” he warned, “you’re gonna need more than a gun that’s smaller than your dick.”

Jack reached for his .38 special and grabbed Pablo by the shirt. “How would YOU know how big my dick is?” he asked, “I know you are with the cartel. So give them a message for me: release my father or I’m coming for ALL OF YOU!”

“Estas loco Jack!” Pablo yelled.

Maria quickly broke up the fight. “Come to your senses Jack!” she pleaded. Jack released Pablo and placed .38 back in its holster. “I stopped by La Casa de La Muerte to deliver that message,” he said, “I’ll be back in a few days to see if that message was received.”

Jack straitened himself out and walked out the front doors. Maria rushed out after him. “I’m so sorry Jack,” she said, “but I couldn’t wait on you forever!”

Jack stopped in his tracks. “But why Pablo?” he asked.

She said nothing.

“What Pablo wants, Pablo gets,” Jack said, “and if it’s death he wants, then I’m happy to deliver.”

Jack walked away and a few blocks later he was kidnapped by some desperados in a pedo van.


Jack Hardcock: The Wrath of God (Part IV)

The border crossing station stuck out against the barren desert. The two guards laughed as they contemplated their easy assignments. “Lo tenemos hecho,” one said to the other.

Suddenly a lone figure barged in. The guards stared in awe at the ominous character. “Passport, please?” one asked in broken English.

The mysterious figure pulled out his .38.

“Jack Hardcock,” a guard gasped.

“Which way to Juarez?” Jack asked.

The guards silently pointed to the west.

“Gracias,” he said.

As Jack walked away, the guards watched as marched towards the horizon. “Dios ayudanos,” they uttered.

Gunshots and Mariachi music echoed through the streets of Juarez. Jack feared no evil as he walked through the valley of death. He knew the city would face the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah; God’s vengeance would soon reign.

If he himself was the one to deliver this vengeance, Jack did not know.

“I’m looking for La Casa de La Muerte,” Jack said to a random street vendor.

“Que?” the vendor replied.

“I’m an American,” Jack stated, “it’s my right to not speak Spanish. So you better answer me or answer to my .38!”

“sé lo que estás diciendo,” the vendor said, “pero no conozco este lugar.”

Jack pistol whipped the vendor and prepared to empty his revolver into the poor bastard. But Heaven granted the man a reprieve: at that moment, an angelic voice appeared. “Jack, no!” it ordered.

Jack’s hand began to shiver as he aimed the .38. He knew this voice.

“Maria,” he uttered.

Jack slowly turned around. Maria was as radiant as a bluebonnet under the Texas sun. He thought he’d never see her face again. “Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’ve been in Juarez for sometime,” she said, “why did you not respond to my letters?”

“Maria,” he pleaded, “I’m so sorry. I…”

That moment, Pablo Santora came marching up in his Wrangler jeans and snakeskin boots. He put his arm around Maria. “Jack,” Pablo smiled from underneath his mustache, “so pleasant to see you again.”

“Pablo,” Jack simply said. He had to restrain himself.

Pablo lifted a cigar to his mouth. “Jack, old friend,” he continued, “I am the proprietor of La Casa de La Muerte. Please, stop by and see us, yeah?”

“Thank you for the invitation, Pablo,” Jack said.

“Mi amigo,” Pablo chuckled, and he slowly strolled away.

Jack and Maria continued to lock eyes.

“Why Maria?” Jack asked, “Why Pablo?”