“Okay. We go in first. Have a head start. We can call the police just before. Then they think we’re alone.”
Aleksander stopped the car in the middle of the road. “Listen guys. I’m sorry but, I can’t do this. This is too much. I don’t want to die, man.”
“It needs to be all of us,” said Miguel.
Michael could see the agitation rising in his face. “Come on, Miguel. I met Alex randomly in some hostel. He owes me nothing. He has already done so much for me. I can’t ask him to die for us. He has no reason to die for us. You know it’s not fair to ask that of him.”
“You want to talk fair?” His loud voice made Michael tense up.
“Fine, fine. I go.” Alex tried to placate him.
“Alex, you’re being stupid. If Miguel scares you, Samuel Hernandez and someone nicknamed the fucking Executioner is going to make you have a fucking heart-attack. This is life and death we’re talking here. Miguel is not going to shoot you. Trust me. Don’t be pressured into doing something you might regret.”
“You have no idea what I am capable of.” Miguel got out of the car to take a breath and leaned against the wheel arch, rubbing his face. Michael opened his door and walked around to check on him. Miguel looked thoughtful for a minute before speaking again. “That cenote. I used to play there when I was a kid, and a teenager. You know what I use it for now?”
“What?”
“Samuel and I have dumped bodies there. I put bodies in there.” Miguel was crying now, and it shocked Michael to his core. Certain people just were not supposed to cry. “I’ve killed. Not because the person was any worse than I, just because they were on the wrong side. I need to make things right.”
Michael leaned next to him, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “You know, forcing an innocent guy to take a bullet, it’s not right.”
“I know.” Miguel sighed and went to get back in the car, still looking pissed-off.
***
The sun was rising by the time they started making their way to the address that Samuel had given. The fiery orange-streaked canvas did not inspire Michael the way the sunset had. It glowed like a warning light, flashing just for them. As far as Miguel believed, El Verdugo’s main property was on the outskirts of Playa del Carmen, and he had never been to this place before. Located between Chetumal and Felipe Carrillo Puerto, there were no other properties on this stretch of road, just trees, road, trees, road, and more trees. They would have driven straight past the place if Miguel hadn’t noticed it, nestled in the jungle, hidden from the main road. He shouted for Aleksander to apply the brakes. Not wanting to be too close, Alex carried on, until they were, what he felt was a safe distance away. He parked up the car and shut off the engine.
“So, here we are.” He had that look, that slightly awkward look that travelers had before going their separate ways, one of sadness and sentimentality, nostalgia for a period of time that wasn’t even quite over yet. “I hope you understand—”
“Say no more.” Michael could tell Alex felt bad. He could tell by the guilty look on his face. His head hanging down, not quite able to look him in the eye, like a dog who had stolen food from the table. People didn’t sacrifice themselves for people they barely knew, that was a given. Hell, a lot of people barely make sacrifices for people they have known for years: colleagues, lovers, family.
“We will have a drink when this is all over. I think we should have reunion a year from now. What’ya say?”
Michael knew this was an impossibility on so many levels, but if it made Alex feel better. “Sure.” He patted his shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
“Will you reconsider waiting for the police? No need to make more dangerous than need be.”
“The plan’s the same. You call them before you leave. Then you get as far away from here as possible. And no matter what happens, always remember that game of ring of fire in Pueblo.”
“How could I forget? You drink enough to bring down a horse.” They went for a formal handshake. It was the only way Michael could think of to display his mutual respect. Michael got out of the car and inhaled the fresh morning air. All Miguel gave Alex was a nod before getting out of the car and checking his weapon.
“Let’s do this then,” Michael announced. They walked back in the direction of the house and he took one last look back at the car, feeling the 6am breeze skim his arms and face. Everything felt heightened—the slightest sound accentuated. Shoes scuffing on dirt. The gentle murmurs of the forest. He could still barely wrap his head around the concept that once one was dead, they could feel nothing. The harder he tried to imagine the absence of anything, the more he struggled. Consciousness is all he had known, and soon, every last piece of himself, besides the physical vessel, would be gone. He always rationalized that a person was really just a bunch of synapses firing, nothing special. Memories meant nothing at the end. Everyone was the same. Flesh and blood. A bundle of impulses, urges and instinct. Biological computers processing our surroundings just like everyone else. There were billions of people on this earth. On this sunny Tuesday with clear skies, his imminent death meant little in the grand scheme of things. The world would
