by Billy Kring
Chapter 4
Hunter drove while Raymond sat in the passenger’s seat in the Border Patrol SUV. Raymond said, “I’ve been thinking of moving down here to Lajitas, or maybe Terlingua when I retire.”
“Why?”
“Marfa’s getting too crowded.”
Hunter chuckled, “So Marfa’s like Dallas now?”
“Uh-huh. You know how the news always says, “the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex,” well, it’s like, ‘the Marfa-Alpine Metroplex’.”
Hunter snorted, “Wow, there’s about eight thousand people total with those two combined. Good lord, the traffic jams, the crowded sidewalks, the skyscrapers!”
Raymond said, “You’re young, you haven’t seen the relentless advance of civilization in Marfa that I have.”
“I’m not young.”
“You’re barely thirty.”
“I’m old in dog years.”
Raymond laughed, “Okay, you win.”
Hunter cut the wheel and put the Ford Explorer into four-wheel drive as they drove off the pavement and into the area between the golf course and the Rio Bravo, checking for any tracks coming out of the river and into the area, through the sand, rocks, short brush, and wiry tufts of desert grass.
“Hey?” Raymond said and pointed through the windshield at a boy crossing through the river at the dry mouth of Comanche Creek where it joined with the Rio Grande.
The Rio was shallow there, and he made it to the Texas bank in no time. Hunter turned and followed the creek bank as it cut through the golf course, using the bank as a blind to the boy walking in the dry creek bed. She stopped a short distance ahead and both Agents exited the Ford and quietly closed the doors, then set up to intersect the boy.
Hunter heard the rattle of river stones and knew the boy was close. They stood so he would see them. Hunter recognized Adan immediately. His young face looked tired and dirt-streaked. The wound on his cheek showed a crusted brown from the dried blood, and the bruised area immediately around it showed like a shadow under the skin.
They were ready to chase him if needed, but Adan saw them and ran to Hunter. He almost hugged the young woman, but caught himself and stopped in front of her.
Hunter said, “Hey, Adan, what’s wrong? You know you crossed illegally–”
“I know. I need your help, please. Dario was pushed into a mine shaft.”
Raymond put his hand on Adan’s shoulder as Hunter said, “Where?”
“In Mexico. I can show you.” He pulled at her arm, then realized what he was doing. He took off his hand as Raymond said, “We can talk to the Mexican authorities, see if they will help you.” Adan nodded and they all walked to the Ford Explorer and drove down the river towards Presidio and the International Bridge. The drive seemed to take forever to Adan, but in reality, Hunter drove it in record time. Raymond called on the radio to Sector, who then contacted the Mexican Aduanas, Mexican Customs at the bridge and told them that two agents wanted to meet and talk over some information, and to transfer a juvenile Mexican male into their custody. Sector radioed Mexico’s okay, and Hunter drove through Presidio to the bridge.
Traffic was light and she drove onto the bridge and across to the Mexican Port of Entry, where two Customs officers waited, hands on hips. Raymond exited and walked to the men while Hunter turned in her seat and pushed some folded money to Adan as he sat behind her. “Get yourself something to eat, Adan.”
“Thank you.”
“My name is Hunter, and you can call me that if you want.”
Adan felt a warmness in him, “Thank you, Hunter.”
They got out of the Explorer and walked to join Raymond as he said, “The boy is trapped in an abandoned mine, and Adan here can show you where.”
One of the men said to Adan, “It will be some time before we can look for this boy, this…Dario you talk about. We have to go through channels.”
Hunter said, “What if he’s hurt? You’re not going to check on him?”
“It is an impossibility to do at this moment.”
“Can’t you call the other agencies, or the military to help?”
“They are all occupied, all of them. There’s big trouble south of here with the Cartel, lots of fighting and shooting right now. The officials rushed in the direction of the conflict.”
Hunter thinned her lips in frustration. She turned to Adan and said, “Do you know where the Waru Hotel is?”
Adan said, “Yes.”
“Go there and wait for me. I will come, but I have to change clothes and get another vehicle before then, so it may be a bit.”
“I will wait.”
“You can sit and order food and something to drink outside, and that way I can see you when I drive up there. Might save us some time.”
Adan’s emotions lifted; this beautiful woman was going to help him. “I will not move until you come.”
She patted him on the shoulder and took him to the Mexican authorities. Raymond looked at her when she returned to the SUV. He turned their vehicle around to cross the bridge back to the United States. He said, “Okay, what did you do?” She shrugged.
Raymond said, “You’re working. You can’t go into Mexico in uniform, and in a government vehicle, and dragging me with you.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay, what are you gonna do, then?”
“I’m calling in for emergency annual leave for the rest of the shift, and get you to drop me off at the Presidio Station. I’ll borrow Jonathan’s pickup.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll go to either the western wear store or to Beall’s, get a change of clothes and go across.”
“Get some rope and a couple other things you need, too. Go prepared.”
“I will.”
“One of us has to stay on this side in case of trouble. I guess that’s me.”
“There won’t be any trouble.”
“Hah, we’re talking about Hunter Kincaid here. Hunter T-For-Trouble Kincaid. Take the handie-talkie, just in case.”
“I will.”
“And be careful, I mean it. You’re giving me gray hairs.”
Hunter grinned at her friend, “Ten-four, canoso.”
“I’m not totally gray-haired yet, but you’re speeding it along.”
Fifteen minutes later she was in Mexico, driving a friend’s four-wheel-drive Dodge Ram pickup, and stopping in front of the Waru Hotel. Adan wasn’t there.
She started to open her door when he raced to the passenger’s side and hopped in, looking frightened. Hunter said, “What’s the matter?”
“I saw the man who pushed Dario.”
“Here?”
“He drove slow, like he was looking for someone. I hid. I don’t think he saw me, but he’s been by twice.”
She drove away from the Waru, “You’re safe now. Which way do we go?”
Adan looked behind them to reassure himself, then faced forward and pointed, “That way, for a while.”
Hunter drove along the river and out of Ojinaga, into the areas of small ejidos, the single small farms, and larger farms of land owners, which led to miles of desert scrub with draws and small canyons. The Maderas Del Carmen showed mauve in the distance, as did the Chisos Mountains in Big Bend National Park on the north side of the Rio Bravo. They made good time, with the roads not carrying much traffic other than occasional farm trucks.
They checked everything out as they drove, but didn’t check the one that drove four vehicles behind them.
Ellis rode there in a Jeep Rubicon, intent on keeping Hunter’s vehicle in sight. His phone rang and he answered while stopping on top of a hill for better reception, “Yes?”
Winston Hart said, “You got that kid in sight?”
“He’s with that female Border Patrol Agent. She’s in Mexico in regular clothes, and they’re driving down river on the Mexican side. I’m pretty sure they’re going to the old mine.”
“That might be handy. Did I ever tell you what my grandfather used to do with gr
easers?”
He had, but Ellis liked to placate the old man. It seemed to make him happy to tell it, “No, I don’t believe you did.”
“He’d work them for a good while, months, sometimes a year without paying them, promising that he would, and then when they became too pushy, he’d tell them they needed to go out on the ranch and do one more day’s work, then he’d pay them. There’s a cave on the ranch and he’d take them there and tell them to shovel up some bat guano down in there, not much, just a few bags for fertilizer, and they could go. They always did it, climbed down the ladder and grabbed shovels, started scooping the bat guano in the bags. That’s when my granddad would get his Thompson and come back and mow them down. There was a dropoff in the cave beside the guano and he’d climb down and push them off in it.”
“How long did he do that?”
“Least twenty years that I know of. He was real old there at the last, ninety-one when he died. He could barely make it up and down the ladder that last year,” Ellis heard a soft chuckle, “But he could still use that Thompson.”
“You ever go out there with him?”
“There at the last. He liked a little help at that age. He let me push them into the dropoff, but wouldn’t let me use the Thompson. He liked that part for himself.”
“What was the Thompson like?”
“It was a beauty, and he kept it clean and oiled after every use. He had the wood polished, too, nice deep, warm tones. It had a drum magazine, like they show in all the gangster movies, and held a hundred rounds. He could make that thing talk, I tell you.”
“You still have it?”
“I do. I keep it beside my bed in a small cabinet, oiled and ready.”
“That’s a great story.”
Ellis heard someone in the background talking to Winston, then Hart said, “I have a meeting now, so I’ll let you get back to work. Keep me informed.”
“I will.” The line went dead. Ellis put his phone down and drove off the hill, knowing now where Hunter was going, because this was the only road to the mine. He checked his Sig Sauer and put it on the seat beside him.
Adan pointed at the foothills and said, “That one to the left, we need to go up it.”
Hunter slipped the Ram into four-wheel and angled the front of the pickup at the long, sloping bench coming off the larger hill behind it. They went up slowly, the vehicle rocking at times side to side, but moving up steadily. Hunter asked Adan, “How did you get from here to the border?”
“I walked.”
“All the way?” She estimated the distance was a good twenty, twenty-five miles.
“It isn’t like I had a choice.”
Hunter nodded. She saw some evidence of recent vehicle traffic and followed it. When they entered the junipers, Adan pointed in the distance, “It’s right up there.” He squirmed, “I know there’s not much chance, but I hope my friend is alive.”
Hunter didn’t hold much hope, either. But she said, “We’ll know soon enough.” She drove over what looked like a spread of talus, and the stones crunched and popped under the tires as she reached the tin shed and parked in front.
Adan was out almost as soon as the Ram stopped rolling. Hunter said, “Wait, help me get some things from the back.” Adan stopped and joined her at the back of the vehicle. They took two, fifty-foot sections of climbing rope, a two-quart, old-style blanket-wrapped aluminum canteen with a shoulder strap, two small, powerful Fenix flashlights, and a military medical kit in a waterproof pack. As they got ready, something caught her eye at the edge of the gravel.
It was a beautiful small arrowhead over two inches long and less than an inch wide, a Folsom, an old one from the end of the Ice Age. She thought about how it wound up here ten thousand years after someone chipped it out of a piece of flint, then shrugged and put it in her pocket. Hunter returned her mind to preparations and tossed Adan a pair of thin gloves and took others for herself, then they entered the shed. Hunter could still make out the tracks in the dust on the floor of three people going in, and two of them coming out. The small tracks of mice and insects also showed their trails across the human imprints, even though the amount of dust on the floor was tissue-paper thin.
“Through the broken door,” Adan said and pointed at the old, splintered wreck beside the opening in the back of the shed. Hunter went first, flicking on the powerful five-inch long Fenix flashlight and sending a bright beam into the darkness. She walked forward with the boy close behind her.
When they approached where the dark shaft abruptly went straight down, Adan said, “He was pushed in there.”
“How deep is it?”
“I don’t know. I ran.”
“Okay.” She felt him trembling as his arm touched hers. She reached for his hand and held it in a firm grim, which seemed to calm him. Hunter said, “Stay a little back, let me look first.”
If Dario was dead, she didn’t want Adan to see the body first. She moved with caution to the edge of the hole and played the beam down the far wall. It showed a number of colors in the rock, and then she saw the rusted point of ladder rail sticking up like a spear.
There was blood on it.
Hunter pushed the bright beam down the wall to a figure hanging on the last rung portion of the iron ladder. Rust and dirt-and blood covered it, and the iron hung over the empty space at a thirty-degree angle.
A pale face turned up to the light and opened large eyes with the whites seeming to emit a ghostly sheen.
“Dario!” Adan yelled and pulled on Hunter’s arm, “It’s Dario! He’s alive!”
Hunter calmed Adan down before he sent them both into the hole in his excitement. She called, “Dario, can you talk?”
A few seconds passed before the boy in the hole said “Yes.” His voice sounded dry and weak. “Kind of hurts, though. He pushed me in, the man, Ellis, he pushed me in.” The emotional hurt came through in his tone. “I hit my face on the rock wall and turned in the air, then something hit me hard in the back. I woke up like this and can’t move. I’m stuck.”
“We’ll get you out, hang tight.” Hunter looked for some place to anchor one of the ropes, and found it, or what was left of it, against the right wall. It was the bottom portion of a metal arm that lifted a small elevator cage to raise and lower men and equipment into the shaft. Hunter turned her light down into the shaft and saw the cage and a portion of the arm in the bottom, crumpled and rusted almost to dust. It sat in a small pool of water tinged red from the rust. Peering from just beneath the water and pinned under the cage was a skull, face up. The bones were tinged by the water and made Hunter think of one of the painted Haitian skulls she had seen during her recent troubles in Miami. It had been painted with human blood by a houngan, a Haitian male high priest and used for vodou rituals. The thought of those terrible events made her shudder, but she shook it off and concentrated on what to do.
Moving carefully along the edge to where the winch had been anchored, she checked it for sturdiness. Two feet of iron left of the winch arm. Solid. She took one rope and tied the end low around the iron, securing it with a rusty bolt in the rock nearby. That way the loop couldn’t slip up and off the tip.
In the other end, she made a lasso, and tossed it over the bloody iron tip above Dario’s head. Pulling it to tighten the loop caused it to slip off because of the angle of the iron. She tried twice more with the same results. Adan said, “Maybe I can put it under my arms and swing across to him.”
“You will have to lift him up, and off the piece in his back. I don’t know if you can do that.”
Adan thought a moment, “I’m not strong enough.”
Dario said in a strained voice, “It feels like I’m hanging by a strip of skin. You can cut it and I’ll be off.”
Hunter looked at Adan, “You want a look, see if that’s it?”
“Okay.” His eyes looked large in the gloom.
“I’ll have my rope around you, and when you get there, take a look at his back. Cut off the shirt with this,�
�� Hunter handed him her folding Gerber pocket knife. “Then you can let me know how it looks, and whether we can get him off it.”
Adan nodded. Hunter fixed the rope around him using three bowlines to make a seat, and when he said it was adjusted so it felt good, she said, “You may have to lower down the side a bit, then use the sides of this hole to run around the inside to reach him.”
“OK,” he wasn’t sure he could do it, but as Hunter lowered him down to the correct height, he felt better about it. “I’m ready.”
She anchored the rope and watched as Adan moved like a pendulum, starting slow with one step, then back, then three steps and back, closer and closer. Five minutes and three missed attempts left him breathing hard.
Dario said, “Please…”
Adan felt a charge of energy at his friend’s voice and pushed off again, using his toes to dig into the rock side. The rope
helped him stay against the wall with centrifugal force as he moved faster, almost sprinting, until he reached his friend and grasped him around the waist. Dario grunted, and sweat popped out on his forehead.
Adan positioned himself slightly above his friend, with one foot on the edge of a rung, and the tension of Hunter pulling on the rope to hold him in place. Adan slipped the knife blade under Dario’s shirt and cut down his back, opening it so he could see the actual wound.
A long, bloody scrape began low on his back an inch away from the spine and went up, becoming bloodier as it plowed an ever-deeper red furrow until the skin was punctured by the iron and formed a wrinkled fold around the black, crusted opening where the iron disappeared into his flesh.