The Battle Past Dusk, Page 2

  The repeating mental images of a cold lifeless body attacked Chavez as he flew home. He took out a piece of paper and began to write his new mission, “To rescue Juanita.”

  The deportation seemed like an honest mistake but deep down Chavez could feel anger and confusion. He took his frustration out on his pen by cracking it in half, which caused the ink to splatter on his uniform.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to the stewardess with an apologetic voice.

  “Could you find me another pen please?”

  After Chavez received his writing utensil, he finished the detailed outline and placed it in his shirt pocket by the ink stain. Time quickly ticked away and Chavez was able to land and find a taxi. The lonely arrival at home was depressing. With sunken eyes, he quickly filled his backpack with essentials and his passport. He gently picked the white frame off his bed stand and peered at his wedding photo. Chavez threw the photo and similar ones in his bag as well. As soon as he put on a new set of clothes the phone rang.

  “This is Andy.”

  A polite voice said, “How you doing Mr. Chavez? I’m the director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement. I heard about your wife’s deportation and wanted to know if you received the letter concerning this matter?”

  “Yes I did, and with all due respect sir, I have neither the strength nor the will to debate with ICE concerning matters of national politics. I’d rather find my wife now then sit here and talk about her.”

  The director smartly replied, “If you go into Mexico without consultation neither me nor ICE will assist you, Mr. Chavez. It’s up to you to either wait and receive federal help or do it alone.”

  “I think you’ve done enough sir,” Chavez said to the director without hesitation.

  “Let’s make this very clear. Nogales is one of the most dangerous cities in Mexico, so if anything happens to you we will not be responsible for your actions. Is this understood?”

  “I don’t need your help anymore.”

  After the Marine slammed the phone down, he went back into his room to finish packing. He soon after jumped in his truck and was now ready to head south to the location indicated in the letter.

  The day had past and the night was near. He entered the border and made his way through the streets of Nogales, Sonora. He frantically looked for his mission outline he wrote in the plane, but was unable to find it. Due to adrenaline, Chavez decided to push on. His new mission was to stop at nearby stores and to ask about Juanita.

  Unfortunately, his broken Spanish did little to help him communicate with the locals. Many of them just shook their head, so Chavez drove further into Sonora. With gas low, his stomach empty and the night still young, he pulled into a gas station. As he was getting out of his truck, two black cars slowly pulled right behind him. Chavez quickly shut his door and took a breather. Something was not right - the thought of drug cartels entered his mind.

  He slowly went into his backpack and snapped together his .45 ACP handgun. Chavez peered out his rearview mirror and saw two men slowly open their doors and one continued to walk towards his vehicle. They were wearing nice dark clothes and appeared grave in the face. One man waited behind his opened door as the other cautiously walked toward the driver’s side.

  “Cuidado,” shouted the man standing behind the door.

  As soon as Chavez heard this he started his truck. Rocks and dirt flew up in the air as he drove off speeding down the outskirts of the town. The two men quickly jumped into their car and caught up to Chavez. Shots soon came from one of the trailing cars, and Chavez stuck his head out the window and pointed his .45 towards the cars. After three shots, Chavez looked back at the road, and the truck immediately hit a dip making his truck flip violently twice in the air, and eventually landing on its wheels in a nearby field.

  From within the battered truck Chavez yelled with a hoarse voice, “I’m still alive! Come and get me!”

  He crawled out his passenger window, which had shattered and made his way to the outside of his truck. As the two cars pulled beside the truck, bloody and beat, he kneeled. Unsurprisingly, more shots came from the unknown vehicles. He took close aim and fired from below the truck.

  He was outnumbered and outgunned. However, it was not the end for Chavez. A round of gun shots sprayed from his right side. His eyes began to twitch. He was experiencing Afganistan flashbacks. Fortunately, he quickly came back to reality to see a Mexican army truck. He looked on as the two vehicles started a heavy gunfight. Fortunately, the men shooting at him retreated to their cars and drove off. The Marine was now surrounded by Mexican troops with flashlights shining in his direction.

  “Suelte su arma,” said one of the Mexican troops from the army truck.

  Chavez threw his gun off to the side saying, “I’m just trying to find my wife, have you seen her?”

  The Mexican Army allowed the police to take him into custody along with his belongings. On the other side of the border, a letter arrived at the Chavez home.

  It was from Juanita, and it said, “Andy, I hope you get this letter as I know you should be back from your last deployment soon.”

  The letter continued, “Don’t be too alarmed. I have met a nice family here and they took me in and gave me food and water, please don’t worry, they are so nice and even willing to take me to the border, so I’ll probably be home faster than this letter gets there.”

  Juanita finally did arrive home and noticed the truck missing. Frantically, she opened the door and found no one inside. She quickly went to her room and found his army uniform lying on the ground. She noticed the ink stain and touched it inside to see what it was. She felt a ruffling inside his pocket and found his mission note.

  Chapter III -- In the Midst of Another War