As much as I want to take the lead, this isn’t my town. I’m just a visitor. I said as much to Yolanda and Antonio, both who agreed, and because Antonio is a bit stronger on his feet, he’s the one who knocks on the front door.
For a solid minute nothing happens. Complete silence in the house. I had asked before if there was a chance the narcos were gone, especially after what happened last night, but their cars were pointed out to me and I was told that they often slept late through the morning.
Antonio knocks again, this time banging his old, wrinkled fist against the door.
Twenty seconds later, the door opens and one of the narcos peers out. He’s young, in his mid-twenties, and he’s shirtless. The only thing he has on is his jeans, which are too large for him and hang low off his hips, exposing his boxer shorts. Tattoos pepper his arms and chest. He’s holding a gun in his right hand while he wipes the sleep away with his left hand, so for a second or two he doesn’t see everybody in the street, he only focuses on Antonio.
“What do you want, you old fuck?”
He pauses then, realizing that Antonio isn’t alone. His eyes widen just a bit. Clearly this wasn’t what he’d expected when he opened the door. Fear flashes in his face, but it’s just for an instant, the narco needing to show no fear no matter how scared he might be.
Antonio says, “We want you to leave.”
The narco simply shakes his head.
“Fuck you.”
He goes to shut the door, but Antonio manages to press his weight against the door before it closes.
The narco raises the gun at Antonio.
“Get the fuck back, old man.”
I finally decide, all right, enough is enough.
I step forward, swinging the Glock at my side.
“Hey, asshole.”
The narco’s eyes shift toward me. For an instant, confusion fills his face. Clearly I’m not one of the townspeople.
I ask, “If you wanna play, why not play with me?”
The narco sneers.
“What do you think you’re gonna do?”
“Kick your ass.”
I glance at Antonio, still pressed against the door.
“Antonio, step away from the door.”
The narco grins, mimics me.
“Yeah, Antonio, step away from the door.”
Antonio glares back at the narco.
“We want you out of our town!”
The narco just laughs. Then he glances back inside the house, nods once, and grins at me again.
“Okay, puta, you want to play, let’s play.”
He opens the door, and there are two other narcos standing there. They’re about the same age, the same height and built, one shirtless, the other wearing a T-shirt. Both are armed. One of them has a pistol, the other a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun.
As the narco with the MP5 presents the most danger right now, he’s the one I target first.
I look straight at him.
“Raise that thing and you’re never going to walk right again.”
The narco with the MP5 grins, clearly amused. The moment the barrel starts to lift, I shift my own gun just a bit and squeeze the trigger.
My bullet shatters his left kneecap.
The narco screams as he falls, dropping the MP5 to the floor. Both of his friends focus on him for an instant, shocked and confused, and I use the distraction to sprint forward and kick the first narco straight in the chest. He tumbles back, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. I turn to the last standing narco and plant a roundhouse kick right to his face. It doesn’t drop him, though, just stuns him, causing him to stumble, and then he’s turning toward me, raising his gun, so I shoot him in the foot and he screams just like his friend as he falls to the floor.
The narco who first opened the door tries to scramble back up to his feet. Before he can get too far, I step over and kick him right in the face. He falls back, groaning, and starts to raise his gun at me.
I aim my gun at him.
“Go ahead and try it.”
The narco pauses. He doesn’t keep raising the gun, but he doesn’t lower it either. He just sits there on the floor for a couple seconds, glaring back at me, and then the groans of his friends catch his attention and he glances at them before grunting his displeasure and setting the gun aside.
I say, “Now here’s what you three assholes are going to do. You’re going to get in your cars and you’re going to get the fuck out of this town and you’re never going to come back.”
The narco says, “But our stuff—”
I cut him off.
“Fuck your stuff. Did you let the family who you kicked out of here take their stuff with them?”
He shrugs.
“We let them take some of their stuff.”
“Well, then you guys are much more generous than I am. You’re lucky we’re letting you keep your piece of shit cars.”
I step back and motion with my gun at the door.
“Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and shoot you all in the head.”
The first narco slowly climbs to his feet. He wisely doesn’t reach for his gun. He glares at me again for just a beat, and then he starts to help his friends up from the floor.
It takes several minutes—first the narco shot in the foot being helped outside by his friend, then the narco shot in the knee—but pretty soon they’re loaded up in just one car because only one of them is able to drive. For their credit, the townspeople stand their ground. They watch the narcos get in the car without a word, and they don’t make a sound as the car quickly accelerates down the dirt road. Once it’s clear the narcos are gone, though, everybody starts cheering.
I glance over at Gabriela for the first time. She has her phone out, taking pictures. We discussed this earlier, how she wasn’t to take any pictures of me,
