around twice, and launched him ten feet across the room into a wall. The man hit headfirst. He fell to the floor and didn’t move again. Panicked patrons and barely clad strippers scattered for the exits. Esmeralda and Lupe continued to pull the triggers of their weapons, but they were both out of ammunition. The three surviving members of the cartel recognized the sound of hammers falling on empty chambers. They reloaded and crawled out of hiding.
“Follow me!” El Coyote yelled as he pulled Avery out from under his table. General X-Ray and his men quickly followed.
“Through here,” Esmeralda said as she pointed behind the stage just as the henchmen began to fire again. Bullets slammed into what remained of the mirrored walls all around her. Behind the bar, Lupe had reloaded her shotgun and popped up out of hiding. Firing away, she hit one of the gunmen with two bursts, nearly tearing him in half. The man’s partners turned their assault rifles on Lupe and cut her down. “Lupe!” Esmeralda screamed as El Coyote pulled her behind the stage, where Avery and the others huddled together.
“This way,” El Coyote said, dragging the inconsolable Esmeralda with him. “To your vehicle.” Emerging through the back of the Coyote’s Lair, the group piled into the school bus. Sounds of gunfire continued from inside the building, followed by the sound of a large explosion. Fire Team Leader Alpha poured on the gas and ground through the gears as the rickety bus barreled down the narrow backstreets of the small village. Looking back, El Coyote could already see the flames beginning to rise from his beloved brothel. It had been his life, and now it was gone. By now Esmeralda had stopped crying and stared coldly out the window.
“You okay, ma’am?” Private Tango asked quietly.
“Do I look okay?” Esmeralda shot back. “Those bastards just killed my sister. No, no, I’m not okay!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Private Tango said sheepishly.
“And for the record, my name isn’t ma’am.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing to me!”
“Calm down,” El Coyote said.
“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” Esmeralda screamed. “It’s all your fault. You let these stupid
“What are we going to do about Zulu and the civilian?” Private Foxtrot asked.
“They’re with the one they call the Padre,” replied El Coyote. “I know where his farmhouse is. I’m sure he’s keeping them there. We’ll get them out, if they’re still alive, and then we’re going to take our revenge. I’ve had enough with these damn cartels. This town is full of good people. No more turning our backs and pretending everything is okay. Enough is enough. El Coyote has had enough.” He looked at Esmeralda and reached for her hand. Esmeralda slapped it away.
“Mr. Coyote,” General X-Ray said, “my men are trained professionals…”
“Your men are fools,” Esmeralda interjected before she turned her head and stared out the window.
“As I was saying, my men are professionals, and even if we had the proper equipment and time to recon and plan a full-scale search-and-rescue mission, we’d be outmanned and outgunned.”
“I have a plan. Driver, head toward the hills over there.” El Coyote pointed across the desert. Fire Team Leader Alpha pulled off the road and headed away from the village. “Esmeralda, you don’t have to come with us,” El Coyote said.
“Screw you. I’m coming. Someone is going to pay for Lupe.” Esmeralda spun the cylinder on her long pistol. The group sat in silence for the next few minutes. Avery watched as the dark red sun settled below the horizon to the west. He wondered if Ziggy was okay. The little hippy was his only real friend, even if Avery rarely treated him like one. For the first time since he’d lost his mother, Avery felt genuine remorse for another human being.
“They’re, like, going to come and get us, right?” Ziggy asked.
“Shhh…you’re going to wake the big Mexican.”
“I’m, like, serious, man. They won’t, like, leave us here. Will they?”
“Well, the General always says never leave a man behind,” Private Zulu replied as he wiggled against his restraints for the hundredth time. “It’s in the Code of Conduct. Right before the part about recycling spent shell cartridges.”
“Dude, like, they left us behind once already.”
“Fair enough, but I’m sure the General has a plan. He always has a plan. I reckon he’s probably out there right now, scouting the place out. He’s a right genius when it comes to operational logistics, and he comes from a long line of war heroes. One of them even singlehandedly sunk a Nazi submarine with his bare hands. Why, I bet the General can’t wait to come in here with guns blazing and bust us out.”
“I really think we should consider calling the American embassy,” General X-Ray said as he wrung his pudgy hands. Sweat dripped down his face. “Maybe they have some hostage negotiators they can call in. If we head back to the border right now, we can be home by sun-up.”
“I can’t believe you want to leave Private Zulu behind,” Fire Team Leader Bravo said.
“Don’t think of it as leaving him behind. Just think of it as leaving him where he is. It’s his own damn fault he got captured. He was clearly instructed to fight to the death. I’m considering court-martialing him posthumously.”
“Don’t you say that, General,” Private Tango said angrily. “Don’t you say Zulu’s dead.”
“Men, we have to come to grips with the fact that he may be KIA. By now, the Mexicans probably know he’s a member of the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia. They’ll obviously know our reputation and torture him to death. It’s the unfortunate price of our notoriety and success. I hope he doesn’t give them the HQ’s mailing address.” The General wiped his brow.
“Private Zulu wouldn’t talk. Not in a million, billion years,” Private Tango said.
“Really?”
“Well…maybe.”
“General, must I remind you of our contract,” Avery said as he searched in his fanny pack, hoping to find a snack. “We’re going after them.”
“It’s hopeless,” the General replied.
“With my superior intellect, hardly. We simply define our objectives, identify all the possible variables, and plan accordingly.”
“Pull up over by those three rocks,” El Coyote said. Fire Team Leader Alpha stopped the bus. “Keep the headlights on, and grab your shovels and follow me.” El Coyote led the group to a spot in the middle of three large rocks arranged in a triangle. “Now dig here.” The men dug into the dry ground while Esmeralda repeatedly spun the cylinder of her pistol. Soon, Fire Team Leader Charlie’s entrenching tool hit something made of wood. “That’s it. Now dig it out,” El Coyote instructed. In a few minutes, the top of a wooden crate was exposed. Using his brute strength, the barrel-chested former wrestler pulled the rectangular crate from the ground and opened it.
“Oh, baby,” said Private Foxtrot, as he looked at the collection of pistols and assault rifles inside.
“Gentlemen, welcome to my museum of carnage,” El Coyote said with aplomb as he lifted an AK-47 from the pile and inserted a long, curved magazine. “That’s the ram’s horn.” He winked.
“Where’d you get these?” the General asked.
“Mostly from people who left them in my nightclub,” replied El Coyote as he chambered a round and raised the assault rifle to his shoulder. “People who drink too much tequila tend to leave things behind by accident. I keep them here for safety, because people who drink too much tequila also tend to steal things. Feeling better about our chances now, General X-Ray?”
“It’s certainly an upgrade from our current arsenal, but I don’t know. We still have time to call the police.”
“With all due respect, General,” Esmeralda said as she pulled a box of forty-four-magnum pistol ammunition from the crate. “Shut the hell up.” El Coyote passed out the weapons to the men.
“Forget the guns,
