“Out! Out! I want this man out of zee building!” Four rather large conference attendees converged on Avery and Ziggy.
“I was just leaving,” Avery announced, realizing he was outnumbered and had left his Filipino fighting sticks at home. “And by the way, my conference evaluation form will be returned with highly negative marks.” Avery and Ziggy began their retreat. “Mark my words, Dr. Von Stoopler. I will have my revenge. Do you hear me? I will have my revenge!” he roared at the top of his lungs.
“Like, that didn’t go very well,” Ziggy said as he and Avery sat on the sidewalk in front of the warehouse, waiting for Pappy to pick them up. “We came all this way, man, and nothing. Like, absolutely nothing on chupacabras.”
“B-list monster my ass,” Avery swore. “Who needs these clowns anyway? Not me. I’ve got more scientific credibility in one finger than that entire room put together. The only person in this blasted town who actually makes any sense is that crazy witch of yours.”
“Mae Mae?”
“Yes. Head south it is. Pack your bags, Ziggy. We’re going to Mexico.”
“Like, I don’t have any bags, man. Just my sack.”
“Whatever. But we’re going to need some help.”
“Like, that’s exactly what Mae Mae said. That’s, like, really trippy, dude. She, like, prophesied it. What kind of help are we going to need?”
“Someone who knows the land, someone who knows the language, the people. Someone who can provide some muscle if things get tough. Most importantly, someone who wants to go to Mexico.”
“But, we don’t know anyone like that, man.”
“I do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
El Carnicero
Dusty wind blew across the corrugated metal rooftop of a single-story cinderblock building on the outskirts of Tornillo. A sign outside cautioned that Survivors Will Be Prosecuted. Assembled inside the building were three two-man militia fire teams, Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. They comprised the main body of the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia (STRAC-BOM). At the front of the main room stood their illustrious commander, General X-Ray. The portly general, dressed in his WWII tank commander’s uniform, paced back and forth in front of his motley brigade of men sitting in lawn chairs and wearing a mismatched assortment of surplus fatigues from various branches of the military.
“Gentleman,” the General began. “Today we will begin a new campaign to stem the horrendous tide of illegal immigration into our fair republic of Texas. As y’all know, U.S. military and law enforcement assets, and I use the word ‘assets’ loosely, have continued to illustrate their complete incompetence in protecting our borders from this Hispanic scourge.”
“Uh, General, sir,” Private Foxtrot interjected. “We haven’t been having much luck, either, now that I think about it. It’s been months since we’ve stopped any illegal aliens on our desert patrols.”
“What’s your point, Private?”
“Well, maybe they ain’t coming anymore.”
“Nonsense,” General X-Ray scoffed. “Of course they’re still coming. They’re just being more careful and clever in their sneakiness. They’re dang near as hard to catch as my ex-wife’s boyfriend. What we need is a new plan. A new tactic to bag these vicious transgressors before our blessed homeland is overrun with non-American DNA,” the General said as he slapped a battered topographic map taped to a blackboard with his leather riding crop. “Fire Team Leader Bravo, what do you do if the fish aren’t biting?”
“Well, usually we start throwing some dynamite around the boat, or maybe run an electrical cable through the water and…”
“No! No! No!” The General slapped the map with his crop. “You move your boat to where the fish are biting.”
“Yeah, that works pretty good, too,” Fire Team Leader Bravo replied.
“Sir?” Private Zulu raised his hand.
“What is it?”
“Are we still talking about the Mexicans, or just regular old fishing? ’Cause I don’t much like boats. I’m not so good at swimming.”
“The Mexicans,” the General replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Now will y’all just shut up until I’m finished? I’m trying to brief you on Operation Gold Miner. Now, see these marked coordinates on the map? This is the exact spot the operation will commence from.”
“Sir?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “Isn’t that pretty close to the border?”
“Actually, Fire Team Leader, it is directly on the border. It’s a critical detail that Operation Gold Miner necessitates. Gentlemen, this plan is ingenious in its simplicity. If we can’t interdict illegal aliens on our side of the border, we will interdict them on their side.”
“General?” Fire Team Leader Alpha spoke up. “How are we to know which Mexicans are planning to cross the border?”
“They all are!” the General barked.
“All of them, sir?” asked Private Tango.
“Of course! Why wouldn’t they? Any Mexicans we encounter on the southern side of the border are criminals who haven’t taken the opportunity to cross onto our sacred soil. In fact, it most likely means that they’re the laziest or least cunning of the immigrant population. It should be easy pickings.”
“Sir?” Private Zulu asked. “I’m not sure I can go to ole Mexico. I don’t have a passport.”
“You won’t need one, Private.”
“I’m pretty sure I read something that says you do now with all them new regulations and such.”
“Son? Don’t you understand? We’re going to tunnel into Mexico. We won’t need any documents.”
“But what if we get caught?” Private Zulu asked. “I sure don’t want to end up in one of those
“We won’t get caught. That’s an order, Private.”
“If you say so, General,” Private Zulu replied quietly as he dreadfully thought of being locked away in a dark, foul-smelling cell full of banditos.
“Now,” the General continued. “To execute Operation Gold Miner, we’re going to need some highly specialized equipment in addition to our normal battle rig-out, namely, shovels, buckets, and some two-by-fours. We should have some in the storage shed out back. The key to victory will be stealth and speed. Team Leaders, we’ll rotate your Fire Teams into the excavation point every fifteen minutes. Fire Team Alpha, you’ll lead off. Fire Team Bravo, you will be in charge of removing debris out of the tunnel via buckets. Fire Team Charlie, you’ll start off by building the wooden structural supports for the interior of the tunnel.”
“Sir?” Fire Team Leader Charlie asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just throw a ladder up against the fence and climb over?”
“It was an option I initially considered; however, once we have captured and bound our prisoners, I was concerned with our ability to evacuate them over the wall. Under it is! Besides, I like the irony. I suspect the reason that we aren’t encountering the enemy more often on our patrols is that they’ve constructed a vast network of tunnels all the way to Amarillo by now. Men, this will be a daylight operation. I’ve selected a remote location for our dig site; however, we will need to be extra careful of being spotted by military and law enforcement. This time the threat will come from both sides of the border. Keep your eyes peeled north and south. As always, if we do encounter the authorities, if nobody talks, we all walk. They can’t hold us for digging a hole. For all they know, we could be mining for gold.”
“General?”
“Yes, Private Foxtrot.”
“What if we do find gold?”
