“Sorry, I always get my masculines and feminines mixed up.”
She turned to give him another smile, “I think you are
With the aerobatic maneuvering over, they both loosened their harnesses. Back in level flight and approaching the
“Here, we call them
They flew well above the flock, safe from any bird strikes. Blanca repeatedly banked the plane to get a better view; then, after circling back, she pulled the throttle out, transitioning to slow flight to orbit the enormous flock. It looked like a veritable cloud of ducks. Ian snapped pictures with his camera. She then advanced the throttle to its mid-range and flew away from the lake, back toward Tegucigalpa.
Ian felt ecstatic. “Wow! That was an incredible sight, Blanca!”
Ian reached over to place his hand on Blanca’s shoulder. He realized that it was the second time he had ever touched her. He asked, “Will you marry me?”
She punched the throttle to the firewall and the acceleration threw Ian back against his seat. She looked straight ahead and then glanced down at the instruments. At first Ian thought that he had angered her. Then she turned and smiled. “Of course I will marry you, Ian. But I gotta land this plane first.”
25. A Tight Spot
“Anyone who clings to the historically untrue-and thoroughly immoral-doctrine that ‘violence never solves anything’ I would advise to conjure up the ghosts of Napoleon Bonaparte and of the Duke of Wellington and let them debate it. The ghost of Hitler could referee, and the jury might well be the Dodo, the Great Auk, and the Passenger Pigeon. Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms.”
In the first week of July, several of the men from the compound, including Alex, Ian, and Doctor K., were part of a firewood-cutting expedition to the nearby Prescott National Forest. Traveling in a four-pickup convoy, they went beyond the ponderosa pines at the lower elevations to cut Douglas firs, mostly along the road that led to the Mingus Mountain campground. Three exhausting daylong trips each took twelve hours at three-day intervals.
On the third day of the woodcutting enterprise, Blanca was on guard duty. She was startled to hear the sound of breaking glass downstairs.
She left the ringer engaged for thirty seconds continuously, followed by three short rings. This signal told everyone that the compound was being attacked by infiltrators.
Blanca thought that it would be safest to get back in the hot-tub pillbox. She poked the muzzle of her M16 out of the hot tub, rotated the gun’s safety to “SEMI,” and held still. She sighted the gun on the bedroom door, looking through the screen door that divided the bedroom from the deck.
The man who walked into the bedroom was armed with a carbine that looked a lot like Alex’s Mini-14, except that it was shiny-perhaps stainless steel or chrome plated-and it had a folding stock.
The bullet hit him square in the chest. He went down, screaming and spurting blood. He didn’t stop screaming and gasping for nearly a minute, and twitched for nearly another full minute after that. Blanca was horrified by what she had done. She had never imagined so much blood could come out of someone. And since she had never hunted, she was unprepared to see the man thrashing. Despite the fact that she had pushed her rifle’s muzzle out beyond the lip of the hot tub, her ears were ringing.
Just as she was wondering what to do next, she heard several shots coming from the far side of the compound, and some indistinct shouts. Then there were two more shots. They sounded different. She surmised that these were pistol shots.
An hour later Blanca heard the full story. A group of five men and one woman, all armed, had attempted to sneak into the compound in broad daylight, assuming that they’d find the four families with their guard down. The end result was that the compound had more compost for their garden and more guns for their arsenal. Blanca inherited the Mini-14 from the man whom she’d shot from the deck. Alex was impressed with the gun, explaining that it was a scarce GB model, like those sold to police departments and prison systems. Unlike a standard Mini-14, this gun had a factory flash hider and a factory side-folding stock. It was also made of stainless steel, rendering it less vulnerable to the elements. Alex declared it a keeper. He gave Blanca six original factory magazines for the gun and a pair of M16 triple magazine pouches to carry them in.
26. A Fair Share
“A pistol defends your property and your person from unanticipated and barely anticipated threats from thieves and robbers. With it, you can control your immediate environment. A rifle defends your freedom from oppressors and tyrants. With it, you can enforce your will.”
After La Fuerza had cleaned out everything of use from the stores in Anahuac, they moved north. Their next target was the small town of Hankamer. It was so small that they were able to clean it out house-to-house. Once that process started, many of the town’s five hundred residents fled, most of them on foot.
It was in Hankamer that Garcia found Rodrigo Cruz. Garcia was about ready to order him killed, along with the others, when Cruz shouted, “Wait! You
“Why do I need you,
Pointing to the big M2 machinegun on a pintle mount atop a V-100, he said, “I seen your guys fiddling with that Browning .50. They could only get it to fire single-shot. The timing is screwed-up. I can fix that. I was an armorer in the Marines. I know how to set headspace and timing, all that stuff. I got a whole set of machine-gun manuals and some tools in my house.”
Ignacio snorted. “Show me and maybe I’ll let you live.”
After Hankamer, La Fuerza continued brazenly hitting small towns in east Texas. They first swung in a large arc north and then westward. They skipped Dayton but then hit Hardin and Moss Hill. In Moss Hill, Garcia found a full-length mink coat for his wife, who had chronically complained of being cold. That immediately became a status symbol for all the wives and girlfriends of the gang members. They all wanted a full-length fur coat, and eventually they got them-mostly mink, but some raccoon and fox skin. They wore them so often that the coats became a trademark of La Fuerza.
After losing one of their pickups in a spectacular fire, Garcia ordered that they replace their fleet of unarmored vehicles with diesel-engine equivalents as quickly as they could find them. They eventually standardized with pickups and vans with Ford Power Stroke 6.0-liter diesel engines. They systematically stole every one that they came across, gradually re-equipping their small army.
Their raiding methodology was simple: send one pickup ahead with a husband, wife, and two or three kids to scout, acting like innocent refugees. They would use a CB to relay the situation. Then the entire convoy would be timed to arrive at dawn. Any resistance was crushed. They took what they wanted: fuel, vehicles, tires, food, batteries, cutting torches, guns, ammunition, liquor, drugs, gold, and jewelry. Then they left.
