They showed up on time as agreed; which was rare to have such integrity from coyotes. It was a little after midnight in central Mexico. The white truck looked remarkably clean considering the dusty roads it just drove across. It definitely wasn’t what the people expected to get them across the border. It was smooth and with the shine of a new white kitchen appliance, except for the painted signage on each side, “Esmeralda’s Tortilla’s – Homemade Goodness From Mexico since 1964”. Funny, none of the Mexicans waiting in the moonlight had ever heard of it. There was another thing that made the truck stand out, across the top were vents; 3 on each side. Good. At least they knew they’d be able to breathe.
There were 35 people waiting to pack in. Two men got out on the passenger side of the truck first, then the driver. Both passengers each had a semi automatics slung around their shoulders. The driver brandished only keys and a hand gun neatly stuffed in his waistband along with his stomach. “No hablen sin que alguien te direja la palabra primero.” He gave the crowd the once over to be sure all understood. The nods of acknowledgement were unanimous. There were many ways to get across the border; this was just one of them.
The sliding door on the back of the truck went up. The driver held out his hand, the people paid him and then stepped up into the truck. There were no names, no direct eye contact and only the driver was to do the talking…unless otherwise instructed.
Once on, you were to move all the way to the back of the truck. There were chains that hung from hooks in the ceiling. The passengers were suppose you use them to steady themselves while standing for however long the journey would take.
An old woman was approaching. Her son was holding her up by her waist. It was clear she could not walk herself. Each step she took was a struggle. His wife looking ragged, walked with her head hung, behind them. Each person was to hand over the money for their own passage. The old woman reached in her bra to get her money. She held out her hand until it tremored. The coyote took the money from her and but it back into her bra. “Demaciado Viejo.” (Too old) The woman began to cry to her son, her whole body shaking. “Perdon senora, pero no le puedo ayudar.” (I’m sorry Ma’ma, I can’t help you) the Coyote said with all the compassion he could pull out of himself.
The son replied, “No va ser problema, ella se puede sentar en una esquina” (She will be no trouble. She can sit in the corner). Again the driver said and this time placing his hand on gun in his waistband to help him make his point, “No! demaciado Viejo” (No! Too old)
“Yo voy a pagar mas dinero.” (I can pay more money)
The driver didn’t respond.
The husband, desperate, decided to try another approach. “Mira a mi esposa es Hermosa…si? Tal vez le puede hacerfavores a ti y atus hombres” (Look at my wife. She is beautiful…yes. Perhaps she can do favor for you or your men.) The driver looked as his wife and smiled; she was lovely, yes despite the wear and tear her face portrayed. Her eyes stayed lowered, not going about the 3rd button of his shire. She tried to smile back, the coyote could see the bags cradled underneath each eye and he noticed, at a time past, her left cheekbone was broken. It sat a little lower than the other. She had been treated badly. It was obvious. She had been through a lot and she was better than he deserved. “That won’t be necessary”, he answered. The relief on her face showed she understood. He looked back at the husband. “Dices que tienes mas dinero ?” (You said you have more money?).
“Si…aqui” (Yes…here). The husband reached inside his pocket and pulled out a few hundred dollar bills. The driver took the money, rolling it around his fingers, then he threw it down on the ground. His partners waved their semi’s, a silent way of saying get out of line.
The driver said to the wife, “America es la tierra de la oportunidad. Cuando lleges ayi puedes ser cualquier persona que quieras. Verdad? (America is the Land of opportunity. When you get there you can be anyone you want …yes”)
“Si”, she answered.
“No veo un anillo en tu dedo. Estas segura a que eres casado? (I don’t see a ring on your finger. Are you sure you are married?) She looked up at him and in his eyes for the first time.
“ Ese hombrey mujer aca..." he continued. (That man and old woman over there...)
She nodded.
“Los conoces? Es tu esposo?” (Do you know them? Is that your husband?)
She looked down at her feet and into the darkness. She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. “Que esposo”, She said. She handed the Coyote her money, then she climbed into the truck.
“Puta. Te di un decho. Te di un hijo”. (Whore! I’ve put a roof over your head) The husband was quickly silenced when one of the assistants put the nozzle of his gun to the side of the husband’s head.
The routine began again. People handed the coyote the money and then they were allowed on the truck, until all 33 were standing quietly holding on to the leather straps for balance. The door went down. “What is this?” the husband argued, “My money is just as good as anybody’s”.
“Es tu madre, esta muy vieja. Tu puedes ir. Ella no.” (It’s your mother…she’s too old. You can go but she can’t.)
“Pero no la puedo abandoner. Tiene ochienta-siese anos. Se va a morir aqui.”
(But I can’t leave her out here in the middle of nowhere, she’s 86. She’ll die)
“No es mi problema.”
The driver motioned for one of the assistants to lock the door. The old woman began crying out again, this time prayers and curses. No attention was given to her; she might as well have been a stubborn fly buzzing around their heads. The three men walked towards the cab of the truck.
“Yo llamare las autoridades. No vas allegar ni a la frontera ”, the husband yelled. (I will call the authorities. You won’t even make it to the border.” The driver stopped. He walked slowly back offering a smile that revealed not only sarcasm but also his badly rotted teeth. The husband shouldn’t have been looking at the smile; he should have been looking at the gun, which was now pointed at his right foot. At the close range of less than 2 feet, the bullet went through and through, finding its resting place in the dry earth along with parts of the husbands bone and tissue.
“Tu has esa llamada cuando salgas de aqui… y te aseguras en decirles que neccesitari pagarmos mas dinero.” (You make that call…when you get out of here. And be sure to tell them they need to pay us more money). The men laughed as they got in the truck and left both mother and son, screaming, in total darkness.
The three men drove off towards northern Mexico. The area was called ‘the zone of silence”. Mexico’s own little Bermuda Triangle. Radio’s did not work; cells phones, nothing. The dash of the truck was equipped with special army radio dispatch and the coordinates were predetermined on GPS. However once they passed a certain point in the desert they were on their own until the escorts came. The special ops escorts usually showed up around 1 ½ to 2 hours down the road, though they were probably watching from a distance before they made themselves known. As a rule, the driver is to have both hands on the wheel in the 2 and 10 positions and the two assistants are to have their hands, palms down, on the dash. Look straight ahead and no talking. The only visibility was from the headlights of the truck, which allowed them to see a few feet ahead.
The coyote felt their presence first. It was those darned Stealth-flyers. The drivers and the craft both blended into the darkness. The Stealth-flyers were completely silent; only the lights that were built into its frame gave them away. It was the driver’s discretion as to how and when to turn the lights on. The special ops officers would run the lights in sequence like a wave, to signal they were there. The driver didn’t jump anymore when he saw them, but his butt was clinched until they arrived.
The flyers moved in front of him. Two in front and the Coyote knew at least one, maybe two, were in back. The Stealth-flyers were shaped like motor scooters; however instead of wheels they had a flat rounded base. Underneath its base were a series of 3 inch round motors that pushed air through, allowing the flyer to hover 10-15 inches above the ground. It could sit one to two people and some had a bigger base for carrying things. They had sensors so they automatically moved around any obstructions they may encounter. If the flyer couldn’t move around it, it simply hovered until further instructions were given by the driver. They made absolutely no sound, even if you put your ear to the engine. The drivers wore all black with full masks and night vision goggles; even at less than an arms length distance away, it could not be heard nor felt.
The coyote made sure his hands were still in the correct position. He glanced at his assistants to confirm they both still had their hands on the dash. They all seemed to have a look of slight relief. The job was almost over.
Once the escorts arrived, the journey took another 40 minutes. The lights on the flyer began to dwarf as they approached the white tents and the flood lights stuck into the ground surrounding them. The reflecting glow lit up the desert for miles. The zone of silence was a good hiding place. It stretched out for hundreds of miles and was discovered by accident. In the early 70’s a missile was launched from a nearby base and it crashed in this area. A lot of things crashed in this area, mostly meteorites. They left craters in the ground, small ones yes, but hundreds. They peppered the ground like flagstone landscaping. The zone was a black void. It took 2 decades for the scientists to figure out how to use the area. They set up ionized satellite dishes in a circle all around the base. The dishes neutralized the area, allowing radio signals and other forms of communication to work. There was probably enough radiation for all the personnel to glow in the dark, but the scientists insisted it was safe; no more then going through a scanner at an airport. The technology allowed them to operate in the area: to be off the grid. They were in the middle of nowhere and nowhere was where most nightmares began.
The unit captain got off his craft first. This was the same one the coyote had always worked with. The coyote had never seen the captains face, only the eyes. But he remembered them. Just like he remembered the slight limp he walked with on his left leg and his smoker’s voice. It was as if his vocal cords were sandpaper rubbing together to form sound. The captain’s eyes were dark and weathered and tired with deep whiskers merging into the black knit cap he wore on his head.
“How many?”
“33, Charlie.” The Coyote answered. Real names were not used. The captain was Charlie. The officer, his assistant would hand the keys to unlock the back of the truck, was Charlie. They were all Charlie.
The coyote and his two assistants were patted down. Captain Charlie always counted the money the people paid, but he always gave it back. Then he handed the Coyote an envelope filled with their pay which was to be divided among the three of them. One of the officers would keep watch over the Coyote and his men, while the captain and two of his other men would check the people out of the truck.
When the door came up, the people were always quiet. For most the sight of men completely covered in black, except for their eyes, carrying machine guns and being surrounded by white tents would a little upsetting. Maybe they were too dazed; riding all this way, very little air and standing on their feet. Or maybe they thought immigration had found them and at the worst, they would be heading back to Mexico minus the hard earned money they had just paid.
One of the officer’s, would say in Spanish, “Stay Quiet. We are not immigration. We just need to medically check you out and then we will send you on your merry way.”
The people were helped off the truck. Many stumbled out – dehydration, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. None dared asked for water or anything else. They simply followed the officers and did as instructed; trying not to look around and perhaps see something they shouldn't.
The captain checked the firearms of the Coyote and his men. “Did everything go ok?” He asked.
“Well there was a little problem.” The Coyote answered too late. Captain Charlie had already caught it. He held the Coyote’s gun up, sniffing around the nozzle. It was still warm and the captain opened the gun up and could see that a round was missing.
“You fired this?” The captain asked, though at this point it really wasn’t a question.
“I just shot a guy in the foot. He was causing problems. He wanted to bring his sick old mother along. I told him he couldn’t”
“Weren’t they told the rules up-front?”
The Coyote looked to his assistants. One met with his eyes, the other one looked down. ‘Damn it’ he thought. He would deal with his assistant later, but at this moment, he was going to lie.
“Yes, of course. But he didn’t listen. He just brought more money…”
Captain Charlie motioned for a few of the other offices to come forward.
“What happened?”
“I just shot him in the foot. The bullet went right through. I needed to shut him up.”
“I understand what you were trying to do, but don’t you ever show off like that again. The next time you shoot someone – make sure the bullet stays inside them and they are dead. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, sir!”
“Was it just him and his mother?”
“Well, it was his wife I think…”
“What do you mean you think? Don’t tell me what you think. Tell me what you know”.
“I don’t know, maybe they had it arrangement but it was his wife.”
"Come – you’re going to point her out.”
“No. She won’t say anything. I know. Please! I don’t think she was really married. He treated her like a dog. She won’t say anything”
“Again with that word, think. Did you talk to this woman?”
“Yes!..No! But I know. I’ve been doing this for a long time. Way before I worked for you. I know.
Captain Charlie ignored him and continued to pull the Coyote through the tent as if he were his own 9 year old son. The captain was well over 6 feet tall to the Coyote’s 5ft6inches. The Coyote’s feet were barely touching the ground. “Where is she?” he growled. The Coyote pointed up his finger. Captain Charlie motioned for the other officers to stand back and for the Coyote to come with him. She was waiting with the others. He called for her to come towards him.
“Do you speak English?” Captain Charlie asked.
“Si, I mean yes…a little.”
“Who are you traveling with?”
Her eyes searched the Coyotes face. She understood him well, in the desert earlier and now here. Then she looked at the captain.
“Just me” she answered.
“You married?” Captain Charlie continued.
She held up her hands, showing the back and then the palm of each. “No”, she answered.
Captain Charlie looked at her for several seconds. She did not change her expression.
“Where are you headed?”
“Texas.”
“And it’s just you?”
“Yes.”
Captain Charlie smiled. “Alright then”.
‘Smart girl’ the Coyote thought to himself.
Outside the officers checked the coordinates on the GPS mapping system in the truck to see exactly where they had stopped to load on the immigrants.
“Alright my friend,” Captain Charlie said to the Coyote, “I like working with you, but never do this again. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“No worries. I’ll send my comrades to clean up your mess,” Captain Charlie laughed.
Three flyers went off into the darkness, lights off. One of the craft’s was a carrier flyer, big enough to carry a body…or two.
“Have a good night gentlemen.” Captain Charlie said before he disappeared into one of the tents. Another Charlie came along. “I’ll be your escort out”. The Coyote and his two assistants got into the truck.
‘I need a new job’, the Coyote thought to himself.
“Well there was a little problem.” The Coyote answered too late. Captain Charlie had already caught it. He held the Coyote’s gun up, sniffing around the nozzle. It was still warm and the captain opened the gun up and could see that a round was missing.
“You fired this?” The captain asked, though at this point it really wasn’t a question.
“I just shot a guy in the foot. He was causing problems. He wanted to bring his sick old mother along. I told him he couldn’t”
“Weren’t they told the rules up-front?”
The Coyote looked to his assistants. One met with his eyes, the other one looked down. ‘Damn it’ he thought. He would deal with his assistant later, but at this moment, he was going to lie.
“Yes, of course. But he didn’t listen. He just brought more money…”
Captain Charlie motioned for a few of the other offices to come forward.
“What happened?”
“I just shot him in the foot. The bullet went right through. I needed to shut him up.”
“I understand what you were trying to do, but don’t you ever show off like that again. The next time you shoot someone – make sure the bullet stays inside them and they are dead. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, sir!”
“Was it just him and his mother?”
“Well, it was his wife I think…”
“What do you mean you think? Don’t tell me what you think. Tell me what you know”.
“I don’t know, maybe they had it arrangement but it was his wife.”
"Come – you’re going to point her out.”
“No. She won’t say anything. I know. Please! I don’t think she was really married. He treated her like a dog. She won’t say anything”
“Again with that word, think. Did you talk to this woman?”
“Yes!..No! But I know. I’ve been doing this for a long time. Way before I worked for you. I know.
Captain Charlie ignored him and continued to pull the Coyote through the tent as if he were his own 9 year old son. The captain was well over 6 feet tall to the Coyote’s 5ft6inches. The Coyote’s feet were barely touching the ground. “Where is she?” he growled. The Coyote pointed up his finger. Captain Charlie motioned for the other officers to stand back and for the Coyote to come with him. She was waiting with the others. He called for her to come towards him.
“Do you speak English?” Captain Charlie asked.
“Si, I mean yes…a little.”
“Who are you traveling with?”
Her eyes searched the Coyotes face. She understood him well, in the desert earlier and now here. Then she looked at the captain.
“Just me” she answered.
“You married?” Captain Charlie continued.
She held up her hands, showing the back and then the palm of each. “No”, she answered.
Captain Charlie looked at her for several seconds. She did not change her expression.
“Where are you headed?”
“Texas.”
“And it’s just you?”
“Yes.”
Captain Charlie smiled. “Alright then”.
‘Smart girl’ the Coyote thought to himself.
Outside the officers checked the coordinates on the GPS mapping system in the truck to see exactly where they had stopped to load on the immigrants.
“Alright my friend,” Captain Charlie said to the Coyote, “I like working with you, but never do this again. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“No worries. I’ll send my comrades to clean up your mess,” Captain Charlie laughed.
Three flyers went off into the darkness, lights off. One of the craft’s was a carrier flyer, big enough to carry a body…or two.
“Have a good night gentlemen.” Captain Charlie said before he disappeared into one of the tents. Another Charlie came along. “I’ll be your escort out”. The Coyote and his two assistants got into the truck.
‘I need a new job’, the Coyote thought to himself.
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