Chapter 8: Perspectives Broaden

by Paladin: Have Gun – Will Travel

Amarillo, Texas
2:30 PM CST (Central Standard Time) Friday March 23^rd 2018

Raul de la Cruz, Manuel, and Jacinthe Martinez left Dallas-Fort Worth early in the morning. Even pulling the trailer, they made good time on the trip to Amarillo. Raul wanted to check on his mother and sister in Pueblo, but before that, he had to make some arrangements, and see if these black market identification documents were any good. First, he rented a mailbox at a UPS store with twenty-four-hour access; because it would be listed as a suite, and not a P.O. Box. He parked the Escalade, and left the kids to watch the vehicle, as he walked to a nearby Bank of America. He was attired in a checkered flannel shirt, and a clean, but used pair of blue jeans, and some work boots.

Raul had decided to not wear a jacket, even though it was a bit chilly. When he entered the lobby, a security guard gave him a cursory glance, then continued scanning the lobby. A receptionist had guided him to a waiting are, but did not offer him coffee, as they had at Bancomer in Dallas. Last night Raul, Manuel, and Jacinthe had created email addresses, and Facebook pages for their alternate identities, and he had scheduled an appointment at this branch of BoA to establish a new account. He arrived fifteen minutes early for his appointment, and was pleasantly surprised to be seen a few minutes early.

The bank employee was a pretty blond woman, who seemed even younger than Raul, using high school Spanish, she said, “Hola Señor Jiménez, como estas?”

Raul just stared at her for a moment, causing her to blush, then he realized she was using the name he had used to make the reservation; he tried to remember to not use the proper English he had been taught, and said, “Uh, I do speak English, Ms. Dalton. Perhaps you would help me practice my English, better? Oh, uh, I am well. How do you do?”

Blushing, Ms. Dalton said, “Please call me Katie. I’m sorry, you made your reservation in Spanish, I thought you were more comfortable using that language. My apologies. All employees are required to be fluent in both Spanish and English, here.”

“De nada. Your Spanish is better than my English, I think, please help me practice. Please call me, uh, Ramon.” Raul said.

Katie said, “What may I do for you today?”

“I would want to open a checking and savings account. Please.” Raul said.

Katie said, “Certainly Ramon. Will you be transferring assets from another account? Would you like to apply for a Bank of America Visa card at the same time?”

“I closed my other bank account. I not know how long it take, so I bring cash. Is that okay?” Raul said.

Katie asked, “How much cash?”

“Four thousand, and three hundred, US dollars. Is that enough to open account?” Raul said.

Katie smiled, then said, “Yes, that is plenty. We do need two pieces of picture ID, or one piece of picture ID and a birth certificate or Social Security card.”

“Of course, I have those. Here,” Raul said taking from his wallet, thick with hundred-dollar bills, a Social Security card, and a Texas Driver’s License for Ramon Jiménez, and giving them to Ms. Katie Dalton.

The young woman smiled, and commented, “I think you look much better without the beard and mustache. Pardon me, I need to go make copies.”

Raul blushed, and did not know what to say; he was glad she didn’t seem to question his new identification.

When she returned, she asked him, “Is this your correct address?”

“Uh, no. That is an old address, I just moved here. For a new job. My address is 4538 Coulter Street, unit 321.” Raul said.

Smiling, while she typed on her computer, Katie asked him, “What is your new job, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Uh, my uncle, he is giving me a new opportunity. I specialize in security systems, but I have done a variety of electrical installation jobs, I am competent at carpentry, but I need more experience with plumbing and foundations. When I get enough experience, I will become a General Contractor and start my own business. Then I won’t have to depend upon family.” Raul said, then frowned.

Katie looked at Raul, and said, “Please sign here, and here. Is there something wrong about depending upon family?”

“Nothing is more important than family! I just want to prove I am my own man. Sometimes I doubt myself.” Raul said.

Offering him a smile, Katie said, “You seem more together than most young men I know. Here is my card. If you have any questions about your account or our services, please call me. Uh, since you are new to town, I um, wrote my personal number, if you want a guide around town, or something.”

Raul blinked, and blushed, then said, “Uh, gee, thanks. I will be pretty busy, but, yeah, I would like to learn a little more about Amarillo. I will call if I can. Uh, I do have one question. Do I get a debit card? May I apply for a credit card?”

“We can make a debit card here. I will do that while you fill out this form. I could deposit your cash for you. Here is a receipt for your deposit.” They both counted Raul’s money, to be deposited in his new account as Ramon Jiménez, then she signed a receipt.

She came back and handed him a totally flat debit card that was still warm, his deposit slip, and took his credit application, then told him, “We might get an answer this evening, but it is more likely we won’t know until Monday.”

Standing up, Raul offered Katie his hand, and said, “Mucho Gracias, Señorita. Thank you very much Katie. I will be in touch.”

She too stood up, and took his hand. They shook hands. Somewhat awkwardly Raul brushed his lips on the back of her hand; causing both of them to blush. Still smiling, Raul exited the bank, and walked a short distance to a bakery whose website advertised Mexican style Café de olla. While Raul sipped his coffee, and munched on a pastry, he surfed the web for a motel room with a kitchenette. He found a decent bargain if he booked it for five nights, until Wednesday morning. He also rented a storage unit large enough to park the trailer in. His transactions complete, he purchased a bag of pastries, and three cups of Café de olla, then walked back to the Martinez’s.

Staybridge Suites, 36 Western Plaza Drive, Amarillo, Texas
3:15 P.M. (CST) Friday March 23^rd 2018

Raul de la Cruz drove to the storage site; he did not want to keep hauling the trailer around behind his Escalade. Not only was it bad for gas mileage, it looked odd. He was also nervous about leaving it unattended at the motel. He made sure that the books, and the sales receipts were in the SUV, not the trailer. Raul needed the help of both Manuel and Jacinthe to back the trailer into the storage unit. Raul was annoyed that his padlock wouldn’t work; he had to by a special cylinder lock from the office, he was also required to pay an extra twenty dollars for insurance. The first month for a dollar now cost more than fifty bucks. Clearly the Gringos had the Mordita too!

(The Mordita the “Little Bite” a euphemism for the notorious corruption in Mexico and elsewhere in Latin America.)

Raul, Manuel, and Jacinthe went grocery shopping before checking into their motel room. Raul checked in using his new debit card, and the identity of Ramon Jimenez. When they got to the suite, it turned out to be a little awkward, both queen beds were in a side room, so Raul placed his bags near the couch in the front room. They all made several trips bringing in luggage, groceries, the books and magazines they had purchased at the Home Depot, and the book store. Jacinthe shooed the men out of the kitchenette, and settled in preparing dinner.

Jacinthe glanced at her brother, who nodded, before she said, “Señor de la Cruz, we are of course very grateful. But we are wondering, why are you doing all of this? Why include my brother and I? You could buy a dinner at restaurant for less than it costs for the ingredients of this meal. For that matter, until now, you have been buying the meals for all of us. You don’t need us, so why are you spending so much money helping us?”

“I am responsible.” Raul said, he took a moment to clear his throat, before continuing, “I am responsible to my Uncle Rodrigo de la Cruz. All of my family! I was also responsible for my uncle’s ... My employees, even Uncle’s ... security men. I Failed Them! All of them. I am not prepared for a War. That is not an excuse. I was responsible for their safety! When I saw the start of the attack, I was so Scared! I barely remembered to transmit the security system videos so Señor Rodrigo de la Cruz would know what had happened...”

“Then I fled! I am a Coward! I was thinking only of Myself, and what those creatures were doing; Tearing those Sicarios limb from limb while they were still alive! When I saw that creature running at you, it was the First time I thought about someone other than Me! I couldn’t save anyone else. I yelled a warning to the workers camp, but then I raced around everyone else in my haste to save myself...”

Raul’s statement just hung, unfinished. He was staring at the big screen TV, even though it was dead and black. Jacinthe continued preparing their meal while exchanging looks with Manny. Careful not to let the meal burn, she frequently glanced at Raul, he was slumped on the couch, seemingly oblivious to everything around. She finished her preparations, and dished up plates for the three of them. She brought a plate and a bottle of water to Raul, who ignored it. She then brought out her brother’s meal, and a bottle of water for him.

Jacinthe knelt by Raul, taking his right hand in both of hers, she said, “Raul. You must eat. You must keep up your strength.”

Raul looked at the girl, young woman, he realized, he said, “Thank you for your concern. I just am no longer certain ... My mother, my brother and sister gave up everything, perhaps because I panicked. I may have estranged them from my Uncle. I expected disaster would strike Mexico in a matter of days. I thought we were all in peril. Maybe if I had rallied the workers, we could have joined the guards and fought off those creatures. Maybe we would all be home. I fear I have failed Everyone.”

Ojo Laguna 75km north of the city of Chihuahua, Chihuahua state
6:30 PM ZPT (Zona Pacifico) Friday March 23^rd 2018
(dialogue is spoken in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

Suboficial Fernandez and his few remaining men arrived in Ojo Laguna early in the evening. First, they refueled their truck, before heading to the local headquarters of the Policia Federal. Suboficial Fernandez out ranked the senior officer on duty. Relatively few refugees were known to be in town. Nor did the local Federales seem to be aware of what was going on to their southwest. No one questioned why they were in town. They did recommend a hotel where they could get a room for the night.

Suboficial Fernandez got two rooms for the six of them, he and Cabo Morales would share one; the other four Policia would share the other. Each room had two beds. They took turns taking showers, enjoying being clean for the first time in almost a week. Because he had the lowest seniority, Felix Carlito had to go last. So, Felix took the opportunity to step outside and upload the video he had taken back at the roadblock. He had not gotten everything, but something in the tone of Official Almador caused him concern, so he had started recoding.

Content for a moment to be clean and safe, Suboficial Fernandez stepped out of his room, placed his Stetson Boss of the Plains gaucho hat upon his head, and lit a Marlboro cigarette. He was hungry, and figured the rest of his men were too. They would probably have to pay for food with their own money. At least he had been able to sign for the rooms, billing their headquarters in Cuauhtémoc. He would contact headquarters in the city of Chihuahua Manana. Hopefully that lunatic, Almador had not reported them for dereliction of duty, or something.

Suboficial Fernandez smelled Felix Carlito before he saw him, he said, “Ay, Muchacho, Cabo Morales should be done with his shower by now. Go use our shower, then we will all go to dinner.”

Felix jerked upon hearing his leader’s voice; slipping his phone into his pocket, he said, “Mucho Gracias Jefe.”

Ojo Laguna 75km North of the city of Chihuahua, Chihuahua state
7:50 PM ZPT Friday March 23^rd 2018
(dialogue is spoken in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

Sargento Primero Nunez, Juan Lopez, and Sargento Segundo Garcia had been concerned about conditions in the city of Chihuahua. The city was overflowing with refugees, and the authorities were barely tolerating the situation. The church, and other charities were overwhelmed, and though no one was starving, people were hungry. Filth was everywhere, and sickness was spreading. Nunez tried contacting his superiors by radio, and by cellular phone. He did not try going to the Centro de Justica. Rumors were rife, but actual information was practically nonexistent.

The Federales, and most of the people from the ejido near Rancho Trinidad, decided to leave the city of Chihuahua, and seek refuge elsewhere. It was after dark when they arrived in Ojo Laguna, because of their Policia Federal escort, they were not hassled by the locals. The folks of the Ejido Rancho Ojo Laguna would not let the refugees stay more than seventy-two hours. They did agree to allow the women and children to sleep in the church tonight, and Saturday night. That would allow them time to perform maintenance on their vehicles, and make plans.

Felix Carlito stepped out of the diner to get some fresh air; he was bored by the old people music. Glancing around quickly, to make sure no one noticed what websites he was checking with his phone, he did not notice the newly arrived vehicles, parked next to the church. Certain that no one was watching him, Felix checked to see if the video he had posted was still up. Cussing at the slow speed of the internet in this hick farming town. You would think that with a truck stop, and being just off Federal Route 45, it would have decent internet. It was like being stuck in the Twentieth Century!

Smiling, Felix saw that several hundred people had already seen his video, and some commented they would be re-posting it. Earlier he was afraid that Suboficial Fernandez had caught him. Now Felix took the time to log in with an alternate ID, and to post his videos on several more websites. He also stored some back-up copies in case his phone became lost or damaged. He glanced into the diner, Suboficial Fernandez was allowing everyone a bottle of beer. Most of the guys were smoking and chatting, Felix figured he could download some new porn, and still rejoin his friends to enjoy his beer. He looked up from his phone, and for the first time he noticed several Policia Federal trucks parked near the church, amongst the other vehicles.

Rushing inside, Felix said, “Suboficial Fernandez there are more Policia here! I think they arrived while we were eating. They are parked over at the church.”

“How many of them are here? What are they doing?” Suboficial Fernandez asked.

Felix said, “I saw Two, maybe three trucks, I dunno why they are here Jefe. I just thought you should know immediately.”

Benito Dominguez got up, coffee mug in his left hand, and stepped out for a quick observation, then reported, “They look as battered as our vehicle, and they are parked with what looks like some farmers’ vehicles. They don’t look like a threat.”

“Well, if it’s not urgent, we might as well finish our beer.” Suboficial Fernandez said.

Felix Carlito hurried to order his beer, and drank it quickly, getting a mild buzz; he got a silly grin on his face, to the amusement of the other people in the diner. Benito and Suboficial Fernandez took their time, savoring their beer, and allowing the kid a little more time. Cabo Morales was staring at Policia Hugo Castro, who had finished his beer quickly, and had been muttering to his pal Carlos Flores. Cabo Roland Morales noticed that Benito was also watching Castro and Flores, but more discreetly. Morales shrugged, subtlety wasn’t his strong suit, loyalty and tenacity were. Morales was certain that Fernandez could count upon him, Benito, and probably the kid.

Suboficial Fernandez stood up, and said, “Everyone is done? Well, Muchachos, let’s go see if those fellows know more about what’s going on.”

As he stepped outside, Suboficial Fernandez placed his Stetson Boss of the Plains gaucho hat upon his head. He considered lighting another cigarette, the decided against it; he was almost out of his favorite Marlboros. He did check his H&K G3A3, and was glad he had cleaned it before showering. He had put on his last clean uniform, but wished he had been able to wash his jacket. As he walked towards the church, he noticed that Castro and Flores had pulled their Balaclavas down, obscuring their faces; it was not that cold.

Sargento Primero Kalon Nunez, Juan Lopez, and Enrico ‘Rico’ Waldec were the first to notice the six armed-men approaching them. Their leader was wearing a big, off white, gaucho hat, but they did not look like ranchers. Quietly, they alerted their comrades, most of whom were squatting around the cook fires, only partially because it was becoming chilly. Several of the women and girls were preparing supper; some of them were rather pretty. His men, and even some of the farmers from the ejido near Rancho Trinidad were trying to get friendly.

“Hola muchachos, que pasa?” The ‘Gaucho’ said.

Sargento Primero Nunez said, “We are just preparing a late supper. We would invite you, but didn’t you guys just come from the diner?”

“Yes. We just ate. I am Suboficial Tomas Fernandez. My men and I were on extended patrol northeast of Cuauhtémoc. We were running low on gas, so we came here to refill and get some rest. Do you know what’s going on?” Fernandez said.

Sargento Primero Nunez said, “When were you last in Cuauhtémoc?”

“Three, maybe four days ago. When my home was burned down. After I helped get my family out, my men and I were ordered to try to deter refugees from travelling to the city of Chihuahua.” Suboficial Fernandez said.

Sargento Nunez said, “I am Sargento Primero Kalon Nunez, my men and I were sent on a patrol to the south of Cuauhtémoc. We were last there on Tuesday afternoon, trying to get help for some of my men at the hospital, there was little they could do. We drove to Policia headquarters, but it has been overrun and destroyed. We had been working with some members of the Cuerpo de Defensa Rural from the ejido near Rancho Trinidad. We took them home, but more than half of the people had already fled, so we encouraged the rest to evacuate too. It took us several days to get to the city of Chihuahua, only to find it crowded with refugees. There was no shelter, little food for refugees. Predictably the Narcos, and other criminals are preying upon the destitute.”

“Whose orders were you following?” Suboficial Fernandez asked.

Sargento Nunez said, “Sub Inspector Jiménez organized some Gendarmeria under my command, with some of the de Seguridad Regional, led by Sargento Segundo Garcia, and a Peloton of the Cuerpo de Defensa Rural led by Juan Lopez, over there.”

“Ah, Sub Inspector Jiménez is my boss ... or was. I do not know what happened to him. I think I have heard of you, and Sargento Garcia, you have done well against the Narcos. What do you intend to do now?” Suboficial Fernandez said.

Sargento Nunez said, “The folks from the Ejido Rancho Ojo Laguna are giving us food, for which we are grateful. They are letting us stay until Monday, however, we plan to leave Sunday, after Mass. We figure to keep heading north.”

“Do you have a plan of where you are headed?” Suboficial Fernandez said.

Sargento Nunez sighed, then said, “Only that we plan to avoid Ciudad Juarez. I doubt that many refugees have gone there, yet. But there has been much violence there, and I expect with even fewer Policia, there will be more violence. Also, the Coyotes would try to prey upon our people, especially these young women we rescued from some vultures.” Looking carefully at Suboficial Fernandez, then Castro and Flores, Sargento Nunez continued, “some of those predators wore our uniform.”

“Ay Caramba! We too have encountered Policia who are abusing their power. That is why I intend to travel to my parent’s ranch, up in Ascension Municipality, to make sure my family is well. The seasonal workers have probably not yet arrived, so your folks might be able to find some work. Not much maybe. At least there should be some food, and there are some austere shelters used by transient laborers. They do not usually stay over the winter.” Suboficial Fernandez said.

Sargento Nunez shrugged, then said, “We will discuss that. I don’t have any better plan. Perhaps some of these folks have family they may want to go to. I don’t know how long this situation will last. A long time I think.”

Suboficial Fernandez said, “I have not really discussed this with the men with me. Perhaps some of them will want to report in as soon as possible. I will wait to report to a local headquarters until I am sure my wife and children made it safely to my parents.”

Both leaders accepted cups of coffee from one of the young girls Sargento Nunez had rescued. They sipped, and quietly observed Suboficial Fernandez’s men. Benito was enjoying a cup of coffee, while a beautiful young woman, if she were cleaned up, flirted with him. Castro and Flores looked on with apparent envy; their gaze roving over the young women and girls attending the other men. Cabo Morales and a group of Policia and farmers were laughing at a story being exuberantly told by Felix Carlito.

Staybridge Suites, 36 Western Plaza Drive, Amarillo, Texas
9:09 P.M. CDT Friday March 23^rd 2018

Raul de la Cruz, Manuel, and Jacinthe Martinez spent a quiet evening in the suite reading some of the books and magazines they purchased from the Home Depot the other day. Occasionally Raul used his laptop, and the kids, their phones, to conduct some research on the internet. There were many sites pandering to survivalists. Too many of them focused upon guns, or zombies. However, there were also many worthwhile things to learn. Often, figuring out one thing, resulted in at least a half a dozen more questions. Earlier, Raul sent a text to his mother Penelope de la Cruz, letting her know he would be calling from this number; since she would not recognize the number from his ‘burner’ phone.