Halloween in Nogales

It is a couple of days after Halloween here in Nogales. The picture is some of the village kids, four of them are Nester's, ready for their version of trick or treat, which had them hanging out in the little graveyard, breaking open scary looking pinatas, and playing pranks on their parents and the village elders. They only hang out in the graveyard in the afternoon, before the sun goes down. They are scared shitless of the "Day of the Dead" as they call it, and really expect ghosts and ghouls.

A lot has happened since my last post on the blog. We made it back from the Sea of Cortez with Naomi. Garcia, the guy in charge of the marina back there, had a man change our our oil, pull the fuel system apart and rebuilt the carb on that engine. It was ready to roll when we got there.

Lou managed to get the Harley into the plane after disassembling half of it. It was pretty heavy and required a little load mastering before we would be able to leave the water. It was a day or so. We had one meal with Andy and Mike, local scallops and lobster that a friend of Garcia's brought buy. Mike used a port wine and tarragon to create a glaze on those scallops that was so awesome. I could literally eat myself to death on his cooking.
They waited for us to leave before they headed off to Tucson and the airport in Lou's Lincoln. They brought Garcia along for the ride so he could bring the car back. Lou gave it to him in appreciation for getting Naomi up and ready for our return. Besides, it is good public relations. We will be back to the Sea of Cortez, back to Rocky Point, and now we will be extremely well received.

We have been back for a week or two. Already the jungle has returned to our blood. When we landed, there was a celebration that lasted for almost three days. Jerry knew we were coming because we made our final radio broadcast from Rocky Point. He roasted two pigs, a half a side of beef, and a couple of goats. Jerry flew Tapia and his wife in for festivities. Nester and his wife brought in several old wooden kegs of beer from somewhere. Old style recipe that kicked your ass six ways to Sunday. It was awesome.

I think I told our tale a thousand times during those three days. Tapia's wife cooked tamales, chorizo and eggs in the morning, her special flan for an afternoon dessert. Aside from Mitch, I don't have any family... blood relations. But I have family here; Jerry, Lou, Nester and his family, Tapia and his wife.

Now, things seem back to normal. Lou is assembling my Harley as we speak. Jerry is off on a supply run. He recruited Ollie, now recovered from his own gunshot wound on our trip to Mexico City, to handle the on-loading and off-loading of cargo. He likes to wear the grenade vest. Jerry said he blew a couple of banana trees out of the ground on one of our pick-ups that was taking too long. Now Jerry's pissed because he has to find more grenades to fill up the vest.

"Hey, NANCY."
I hear him call me while I am writing so I stand and look out of the loft window.
He sees me and sits on my bike, turns the key and pushes the button. The big twin turns over a couple of times and catches. Man does it sound nice. He has already had the pipes apart and pulled the factory baffles out of them. He lets it warm up for about a minute, long enough for me to get down the stairs.
"SOUNDS NICE... " I say over the rap of the pipes.
He twists the throttle and then lets it settle. We both smile at the sound of it.
"Started right up, didn't have to do a damn thing."

I grab the handle bars and give them a shake. "You sure you have this thing put together correctly?"
He yanks the bars away and plops down on the seat.
"Of course it's put together right. What the fuck kind of question is that?"

I step back and look at the hasty construction job. He had only pulled it out of the plane this morning with some help of one the men from town. I am still pretty useless until I heal a little more.
He was pretty quick at putting it together, more interested in riding it than anything else.

"Hey, Killer, you are many things... but I haven't seen mechanic on your resume."
"Shit, a monkey with a crescent wrench could have put this back together."
"Yeah, I watched you," I say under my breath.
"What?"
"Hey, just want to make sure you don't run into trouble out in the jungle, that's all."
He grabs a handful of throttle and lets it go.
"So... I can take her for a spin?"
I nod.
He starts toward the gate and I give a long, sharp whistle until he turns his head.
"Wait."

I head back into the hanger to the safe and pull one of the Glocks out of hiding. That and one of the hand held radios
"Here, you better take these."
He grabs the pistol and checks the load, then tucks it into the back of his belt. The radio barely finds room in his back pocket.
"What... are you worried about me? I don't think I'll be bike-jacked out here or anything."
"No, me neither. But if you break down, crash, or run into a jungle cat, you will need them. Give me a call on the radio if you need me."

He roars off through the gates of the compound and first takes a power run down the strip. He is in fifth and probably doing ninety before he realizes that he is on hard packed dirt and that it might just give way under braking. I can hear him shifting down and then see him do a flat track turn and kick it back up as he motors up this way again.
As he comes by, he is standing on the seat, both hands in the air, throttle on cruise control. It is only a second or two, but enough let his crazy flag fly.
"Son of a bitch... he's going to fuck it up before I get to ride it."

A couple of downshifts and he is on the trail to town. I turn back toward the hanger and I can hear him taking it over the highs and lows of that trail.
"He is going to fuck that thing up."

I make it as far as the workbench and I can hear him coming back. I turn and walk back out into the compound.
"You only need one arm to hold on." He scoots forward on the seat. "I better not feel anything but the wind at my back, or I'm dumping you off."
"Naw, I... "
"Naw nothing, you damn pussy. Get on this thing and let's go drink some beer in town."
He takes the radio out of his back pocket and tosses it in the dirt. I set mine down next to it and then climb on. I put as much of me toward the back of the bike as possible, leaning on the backrest. Still we have pretty cramped quarters on that seat.
He gives the throttle a couple of twists and lets out the clutch. We squirrel around a bit in the dirt of the compound and then straighten up and head out of the gate.

"You are the by far the homeliest person that has ever ridden bitch with me."
"I find that hard to believe."

He scares the shit out of me at first until I give in to the ride and stop worrying about it. Lou takes into account the fact that this is a road bike and stays out of the deep ruts as much as possible.
We make it into the outskirts of town in no time and heads begin to turn as the new scooter makes its way toward the Cantina up the street.

We pull up outside the dining area and shut down the beast. Even the heat off the engine smells new. Nester's cousin comes out from the kitchen along with a couple of the girls that work there. They mill about, looking at the shiney chrome, run their hands over the paint job. Lou smiles and talks to them for a moment. Then Nester's cousin giggles and pats me on the back and shakes my hand.

"What was that all about?"
"Just told them you won the bike."
"Oh... "
"In a fashion show." Lou steps away quickly, just missing my shoe up his ass.

We eat a fine meal of Nester's famous marinated pollo, some ranch beans, and three beers each. Lou fishes a Walker from out of his pocket and holds it up for Nester's cousin to see. She nods her head and he sparks it up.
"That was considerate." I tell him.
"What?" He asks while holding in his first hit.
"Asking her if it was all right to smoke that Walker in her Cantina."
"I wasn't asking shit. I held it up to remind her that she has a pound of some village shit that she wants to sell me. She has to put up a sample."

As if on cue, Nester's cousin brings out a little handful of smoke and dumps it on the table along with a single rolling paper.
"One paper?"
She smiles and turns away.
"Here." Lou hands me his Walker and I partake while he quickly rolls one of this new local stuff.

Before we get to sample, we hear Abby's big twins and step out into the street to watch her fly over.
"Jerry's home."
Lou puts the new Walker behind his ear, then fishes out some currency for our lunch.
"That should do." He calls to her and points to the weed and then to the Walker in his ear.
"I told her we would smoke this and then get back to her."
"Wonderful. Let's get back to the compound and we will burn it with Jerry and Ollie."

It has been awhile since I did a thorough walk-around on Abigail. When she touches down and idles in to the compound I put myself to work going over every inch of her.

Tripping Back to Paradise

Lou and Mitch ride the Honda up along the ridgeline to see if our rent-a-Jeep is alive or dead. They took Mitch where she was perched, but the Jeep was over the other side of the trail where she had stopped originally before opting for a better view.

They find it are back within the hour, Mitch on the bike with Lou following in the Jeep. They stand outside gabbing away like a couple of school girls, but when they walk into the kitchen and all conversation stops.
"Jesus, Jake... you look like shit."
"Fuck you very much." I start to feel my body shake. Before they even left I was feeling funny, but unending Walkers and everything in someone's liquor cabinet will do that to you.

Mitch puts her hand on my forehead like she is my mother and her eyes go wide.
"In the Jeep, now."
"I would rather just rest here, thank you."
"You rest here and we might as well have you walk to one of those holes so we don't have to move the body."

She and Lou walk me to the Jeep and I am helped into the front seat. This is all I remember until we are into town. Don't know if I fell asleep or passed out. When my eyes open I am being helped into the local doctor's office by a large black nurse with a moustache like the one I had in high school. I am out again until the I.V. is put in my arm. I don't open my eyes, but I can hear the doctor talking to the two of them. They are playing it off as a hunting accident and it took us this long to drive out to get to a doctor. There is banter back and forth about loss of blood and a massive infection... something about possible death and that whole "next 24 hours are critical" thing that you hear all the time.

Time travel is possible. I am instantly transported to three days later when I wake up and Mitch is reading a Cabela's catalog in the chair next to my bed.
"Thank God... you scared the shit out of us. We thought you weren't going to make it for a while there."
I try to keep my focus from going in and out.
"Sorry... did you lose a bet?"
I try to move but find that only my mind and neck are doing my bidding. The rest of the my body is like a slab of beef. I get nothing, not a twitch or an itch.
"It feels like I am paralyzed."
As if on que the doctor steps into the room on his rounds.
"Not paralyzed, just in a bit of shock. You had a pretty good infection going there. That and of course the gunshot wound."
He flips up a page on the chart and makes a notation, "You hunters are our bread and butter this time of year."
I look at Mitch and she stares back at me.
"All of this and I didn't even get one."
"Maybe next time." The doctor starts out of the room.
"Hey, Doc?"
He stops and turns.
"How long do I have to stay here?"
He smiles, "That paramedic fellow that brought you in here is arranging your flight... air ambulance of some type. He told me that he would transport your records to your doctor in Las Vegas." He flips the pages up on the clipboard and then lets them down again, "That reminds me... I better get this ready for him before he gets back."

Once again just me and Mitch. She explains what happened. Lou, of course is the paramedic. He knows enough medical jargon to get by the doctor. I had collapsed from just what he said, loss of blood and a pretty bad infection that was on its way to becoming much worse. The doctor had treated my wounds and started treatment on the infection. They want me to stay at least until the infection is well on its way to being under control. Lou convinced him that my doctor in Las Vegas would have more at his disposal to get me well. He was arranging a flight as we speak.

It is another hour or so before Lou appears in the doorway. By this time the feeling in my extremities has returned, deadened with whatever they are giving me for the pain.
"Hey... she's awake." He grabs my foot and gives it a shake, "How you feeling, Nancy."
"Better, I think."
"Well, I chartered a jet for us."
"Hmmm, jet... where were they keeping the jets at that podunk airfield?"
"I chartered it over the phone. Took some doing to convince them that we have cash to pay for it. I had to have them make a call to the Bellagio to verify what we had on deposit."
He looks to Mitch and gives her a smile. "Your cousin here has graciously offered to front us the money."
"I gave it to you, damn it. Just take it and stop this nonsense."
"I can't take money from a pretty little thing like you Mitch." He winks at her, "We'll have that money back in your hands as soon as we hit Vegas. I will make it my number one priority."

I am not out of the woods, not by any means. If I don't stay under a doctor's care for the next week or so, I will be flirting with the big dance. Even though Lou is pulling this guy's leg to get us out of this shithole, I do have to get into the hospital as soon as we hit the ground.

Done is done. We get the call. I get a kiss and a sort of hug from Mitch, and her undying gratitude for coming to her rescue. While I am being wheeled out toward the ambulance that will transport me to the plane, Lou and Mitch disappear for a few minutes.
I know there is more there than meets the eye. But it cannot be any more than it is. They aren't meant to occupy the same existance... one an adventurer that seems to change surroundings like a reader turns pages. The other rooted to a patch of ground, partners with the earth, water, and fire. I have the feeling that while I was out of it they might have shared something more than a cup of coffee and a Walker. A moment in time that will keep a warm spot in their hearts even on the coldest of days.

I am in the transport when I see Lou again. He hops in the back with me, medical records in hand, smile on his face that a rodeo clown couldn't slap off. He watches out the window and gives a little wave as we leave Mitch behind. I love that girl, from the first time I saw her smiling face when we were children. I hope I see her again.

It is a smaller jet that Antonelli's, but still plenty big for our purposes. I am carried on board and then set on a long couch. Our flight is another brush with time travel. Lou fixed me up with something he administered in my I.V. I don't open my eyes again until we are in Vegas and I am being wheeled off the plane to an awaiting ambulance. I hear Lou arguing with the pilot... something about a smell in the cabin and one to five years in jail. Lou reminds him that we just spent thirty grand on an hour long flight and that he could go and fuck himself.
Good old Lou, always with the right words for the right occasion.

We don't go to the hospital. We go back to the Bellagio and Lou has us in a Villa with a doctor on call. All I know is I have fresh dressing on my wound twice a day and a little button I can push to keep the pain away and a smile on my face.
I don't know how long we are there, but I do remember seeing Holly's naked body in our garden pool.
At one point, I can hear voices... Andy and Mike, in the room with me, talking to me, then to Lou. I can't talk back or even open my eyes. To many taps on the pain button I suppose. I do hear that they were on their way out of town, and that they have decided to leave the Motorhome down at the beach and catch a flight back to civilization. They still have fish to catch, and culinary masterpieces to create. We help with the purchase of an enclosed bike trailer and the Harleys go south for now. Lou makes plans for us to see them again.

There is a party in our villa. I am awake, then asleep, then awake again. At one point I am joined by one of Holly's friends from the Crazy Horse II for a quick ride. I am not so responsive, but things work the way they are supposed to and she seems happy.

Time passes, first one week, then the next. I am up and walking fine. The infection is gone and I have healed for the most part. Eventually we check out of our fine digs. Lou has procured a Lincoln Towncar and we leave Sin City in the rear view mirror as we make our way down country to the Mexico border. We manage the trip in one long hitch... at least to the border. We get a not so adequate room in Sonoita over the border and catch a buzz and forty winks before continuing on to the Sea of Cortez and Naomi.

I can feel the jungle calling me. I want to drink a beer with Jerry, tell him all that has happened. I want to relax in my hammock back at the compound. I miss the feel of Abigail touching down on a dirt runway, me in the back wearing my effects and holding the rifle to keep the jungle wolves at bay. I miss the marinated pork that the ladies in town would make for us at the little store. The crazy morning rides through the jungle. The throaty rumble of Abby's engines as she idles... waiting to take flight.
This chapter of our lives has played out, and before the next page is turned I need to breath again, to rest again. I need the sound of the jungle to become the new silence.

The Rundown

The way things go down we don't even have time to compare notes before we are interrupted by Grable and two of his men. Lou doesn't know how many of his boy's he killed, Mitch hasn't told us how many of them there were to start with, and I am no help at all with any of it.

It is only seconds before the window of opportunity closes on Lou's chance of survival. Two of them and Grable, Lou in shackles, Mitch standing in front of me, and a pistol tucked in her pants that is not visible to our captors. In a flash I do two things, visually inventory the two men in the doorway for weapons, and try to remember if Mitch checked the load in the pistol. I will not have time to pull the slide back and hit both of these guys. I hope to God she loaded it.

Just as I slide my hand around the grip of the weapon tucked in Mitch's waistline, squealing brakes from a heavy trailer outside takes everyone's attention for a split second... including mine. It is the backhoe/trailer and the truck that is towing it. They had to take the long way around on the main road and have just arrived.

My victims are turning back now just as I draw the pistol. The one nearest the door sees me first and tries to swing a carbine my way, but he gets the first of three shots through his forearm from an intended torso shot. The next two are adrenaline powered but quite deadly as the first catches him in the chest and the next in the head.
Mitch has dropped to the floor to give me a better chance at accuracy and I fire on the next man who looks as though he was going to cut and run. He barely gets turned and one shot goes through his ribcage and he is down as well.
Lou, always at the ready, has dropped and rolled toward a spade shovel and as Grable realizes he is in the line of fire, Lou manages to swing the shovel toward his shins and connects with the trailing leg as he bolts for the door.

It all happens in about five seconds. We rush to Lou and drag him to the back of the shed. Gunfire erupts from Grable's men and the headlights from the tow vehicle show through the ever increasing bullet holes through the front of the structure.
Mitch knows just what has to be done and runs to the workbench and rifles quickly through the pile until she comes up with an axe and runs back to Lou, who has already up ended a round of cordwood. He barely gets his cuffs up on the wood when Mitch sends the axe head crashing down.
"START THE BIKES." She yells.

Lou scrambles to his feet and the two of them make a frenzied attempt to get the bikes started. We are all in the back of the shed now and the gunfire has abated. I see the door begin to open and fire two rounds. That sends another volley of gunfire through the front of the building. There is light spotting the back wall now, we are exposed.
First Mitch gets the Honda started and immediately aims it at the back wall. Lou is still kicking, fiddling with the carb. With sheer will alone he makes the bike fire and then reaches down and backs the choke off.
I am on the back of Mitch's bike holding on with my good arm, pistol now tucked in the small of my back. We blow through the back of the growing shed. Lou is right on our heels. His bike has no lights, but the Honda is fitted with head and tail light. We fly, taking up about a half mile of trail before we stop to assess the situation.

Behind us, Grable and his remaining men remove the trailer from the truck that is hauling it. Looks like four total, including Grable. Two of them run back toward the house now, probably retrieving the Hummers. The truck is free and begins to pursue us.
"Well?" I look at Lou's face in the red of the tail light.
"Can't let 'em get out of here alive or Mitch here won't have a moment's piece."
I pull the pistol from my belt and toss it to him. He pulls the clip and then gives it a rattle.
"Fifteen round clip, you put three in the first guy?"
I nod in the red light.
"One in the second guy and two for effect." He slaps it back into the gun. "One in the chamber and eight in the clip. Count eight to be safe." He throws it back at me and I catch it.
"Hey, you keep it. You are a much better with that thing than I am."
"Gotta ride, my friend. We'll distract them and you hit them when they pass."
Oh shit... is he saying I should get off up ahead and dive into a hole?
"Are you saying that I should get... "
"That's right, Nancy, off the bike and into a hole so you can pull a Bouncing Betty on their ass."

The truck is on its way out to our position, so we move up in through the holes and then Mitch slows so I can leap off. I am so hyped that I don't even register the jolting on my shoulder from my exit off the bike. I find a hole jump inside. Shallow, but any deeper and I would not be able to get out with one arm. I hunker down and wait, hearing the bikes trail off up ahead and then the deeper rumbling of the truck as it finds a path through the holes.
Now another sound as the Hummers join in the hunt. The distinctive sound of that two stroke can be heard a it makes a run toward me now. I pop my head up just in time to see Lou jump the bike off a pile of dirt and then wheelie it off the meadow toward the trees. Come and get me.

I can't believe my luck. The smaller hole I am in doesn't seem to pose a problem for one of the Hummers as it slows and rolls over the top of me while it calculates its next move. I watch as the chassis passes over me and I wait until it is a few feet ahead before taking several shots at what I hope is the fuel tank. One of them finds home and their is a brilliant fire ball as the vehicle explodes. The man inside bails out, his clothing ablaze. The other Hummer is too far off to assist him and it is like shooting fish in a barrel. I have used four shots, but if I am lucky... yes. I pull a smoldering pistol from the man and check the load. A huge revolver with five shots, none of them spent. I don't have time to look for any other weapons. The other Hummer has turned and is coming fast.

Across the field the truck is in hot pursuit of the Honda. The headlight reaches out into the blackness to give Mitch warning of the hazards. At one point she really scoots, making tracks through the trees, going where her pursuer cannot follow. Then there are rifle shots, a wicked volley that has the bike hitting the ground, the light spinning and skidding across the ground before coming to a halt illuminating the truck as it slows, the driver paused by the blinding light.
I try to see what is happening, but my own situation grows more perilous by the second.
The other Hummer is upon me. The ground beyond my feet smokes as gunfire traces its way toward me. I dive out of the headlights and keep the inferno of the first Hummer between us. They fire blindly and the bullets whiz by me. I remember for a brief moment the luck I spent in the Caribbean and figure this might be it. I run straight into a hole and disappear from view. It surprises me and I lose my wind for a moment.
The vehicle stops now, between the fire and my position. But there are other holes and the chances that he knows right where I am is slim. I wait. I hear a voice calling for me, even smell the cheap cigar he is smoking. There is a moment where I can hear the sound of the two stroke making a run toward Mitch's position. It slows, more gunfire, and then Lou hits the gas and the chase is on. He must have her, or she is dead.
There is gunfire, right next to me. I sink into the hole as far as I can go. He is on me... he must see me. No, his voice... the next hole, he is firing into the next hole.
I spring up and fire the nine millimeter until it is empty. Each shot traces his path as he dives for the Hummer. In an instant he is mobile, driving twenty yards or so before turning back toward me. He means to run me over. Gunfire from the window, but it is a carbine and not aimed.
I heave the huge pistol and level it at the oncoming vehicle. He is into the gas for all it is worth and I only have seconds.
I think I am prepared for the kick of this locomotive, but only the first shot is aimed... but aimed well. It passes through the engine block and like a Matador taunting a wounded bull I step aside as it screeches by, the engine seized, the driver startled.
Gone is the carbine, dropped in haste as I shot his ride. I take aim once more and fire two shots into the back of the Hummer as it grinds to a halt. The first I expect finds a home in back of that driver, because for an instant I see him slump... just before the second explosion of the evening.
I am blinded for a moment, that and flash burned. I smell burning hair, his or mine I don't know.

I turn to the site of the truck in pursuit of the two stroke. I can see the truck as it bounces up the hill, the Yamaha at the end of the reach of his headlights. Lou is leading him to the spot where we came up the side of the mountain.

It is a half a mile at least before I make it to the Honda. A quick inspection tells me that Mitch is with Lou. That may or may not be a good thing. I look up at the side of the mountain and see nothing, no light... no pursuit. What ever has happened it is over now, or out on the highway. Long way up that hill.
I pull my arm out of the sling and instantly remember why it was there in the first place. But Lou and Mitch may be in danger. Lou would find a way to ride this fucking thing with no arms if it meant saving my ass.

The bike is still warm and I use my good arm to hold it as it comes to life. I hop on and try my bad arm out with a twist of the wrist. A shock of pain pulses in my shoulder and with every move of the throttle, but I forge ahead. Up the mountainside and to the top of the hill where our jeep had sat that morning.

I see nothing. Not a trace of the two stroke, of Lou and Mitch... of Grable and his man. I get close to the edge and then kill the engine. The silence is thick for a moment and then the I can hear the sounds of a struggle. I make my way to the edge and cautiously look over.

The shadows veil the scene below. My eyes adjust and I can make out the truck, upside down... the wheels still spinning. Lou is holding off Grable and his man, the three of them circling an imaginary void. They haven't seen me yet.
I scramble down toward the wreck and find the two stroke laying on its side. Mitch is under it, bloody and out of it. I lift the bike and drop it the other direction.

"Jake." She opens her eyes and then looks toward the up-ended truck. "Lou..."
I turn and see him make his move. He takes Grable's henchman and climbs him like a step ladder. When he is on the top rung he snaps his neck and the man collapses.
I run toward them, not caring if I am discovered, gun drawn.
Grable leaps in the other direction and then scrambles on the ground for a moment. He comes up firing a semi-automatic. The report lasts for fraction of a second while I bring the blue steel cannon to bare and fire. Grable is knocked off his feet, the two shots making a mess of him.

"LOU..." I run up and see him on his hands and knees, blood running from his scalp.
"Are you hit?"
"No, just making another part in my hair."
He needs something to stem the flow of blood. I tear off a large piece of my shirt and wad it up. As I apply pressure he draws in a quick breath.
"Easy, Goddammnit." He wipes my hand away and holds the cloth tightly against his head.
"What about Mitch?"
"She's okay, I think."
Lou stands and takes a moment to gain his senses, then we walk over to Mitch who is already on her feet. She limps slightly, favoring her right ankle.
"Must have twisted it some when we made that jump."
I look back at the top of the trail, "You guys jumped that?"
Lou winces as he looks up the darkened trail to the top about fifteen feet above us.
"Well, it wasn't the plan... at first."
"I should hope not." I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder and realize that I might want to put my arm back in the make-shift sling.
"Those son of a bitches started firing at us. All we had to defend ourselves with was the trail and a little more knowledge of the area."
I look up at the trail and then down to the bike. "So you took a fifteen foot drop with my cousin on the back?"
"The bike could handle it."
"Fuck the bike, Lou, what about Mitch?"
"She could handle it."
Mitch puts a little more weight on her ankle and walks a few steps, she registers a stab of pain. "It was my idea, Jake."
Lou looks at her with pride, "We drew them in close and then drove off the edge and they followed right behind us."
Mitch puts an arm around his shoulder as she steps on the ankle. "We really flew, like a damn bird."

We all fall silent and look up at the head of the trail. With Mitch in between us we make our way to the top. Not a word is spoken as we slowly find our way back to the ranch house.
"Coffee? Mitch asks as she limps toward the sink in the kitchen.
"Yeah, coffee."

While Lou sips his coffee, Mitch sews up the gash in his head the best she can with the small medical kit she has on hand.
"I had animals at one time. Shit happens on a ranch."
I watch intently. A month ago I think I would have puked, but now... nothing.
"You want a Walker, Lou?"
He gives me a wink.
"What is a Walker?" She draws the curved needle through Lou's scalp.
"Well, let me show you. You have any of this fantastic "product" I keep hearing about?"
Mitch draws her last stitch and then ties it off. "In my bedroom, second door on the left."
I start down the hall.
"It's in Humphrey." She calls after me.
"Humphrey?"
"Yeah, he is a glass decantor... held some kind of liquor. You can't miss it. A friend brought him back from a trip south of the border."
I walk into her bedroom and flip on the light.
"No way."

I walk back with a package of rolling papers and "Humphrey". When I set it down on the table Lou's eyes light up.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"You've seen enough of them."
"No shit." He turns to Mitch, "That skull held Muerte Verde."
"Okay."
"No, man... Muerte Verde is the best tequila you will ever drink. Green Death. Me and Jake drank the hell out of that in Guatamala."

Lou's fingers do the walking and he rolls up five walkers in the time it takes to make a three minute egg. A minute after that we are red-eyed and relaxed... soon to be hungry as hell.
Mitch lets out a long sigh, "I can't believe it is all gone."
"What?"
"Everything I have worked for."
Lou looks at her and smiles, "You still have your health and your good looks."
"A lot of good that does when you don't have the money to take them places."
"Money? You still have your money."
Mitch freezes, "Don't even kid me about that, Lou."
"Nope."
"You're not kidding?"

Lou tells her the plan we made. It was all a surprise to me. I had totally blanked on what we did in the growing field. I guess getting shot does that to you.
When we got back to digging the rest of the holes, Lou parked the Gator in a way that it was between us and Grable's view. Instead of pulling money out of the ground and putting it in the bags, we were pulling the money out of the bags and putting it in the ground. What went back in the bags was a little dirt and balled up newspapers... the ones we found at the bottom of every hole. Luckily it was the San Francisco Chronicle and not some local six page rag. There was enough to give the duffles a full look and the dirt gave it enough weight to stay put on the Gator.

"It all burns the same." Lou says, taking a long drag on the Walker.
"Oh... my GOD I LOVE YOU GUYS!" Mitch comes from behind and wraps an arm around each of us. "Let's go dig it up."
"They are holes. They won't run off in the night. The only people remotely interested in robbing you are dead in the field and at the bottom of the drop off. So relax and let's party."

We raid Mitch's refrigerator, her pantry, her liquor cabinet, and give the Muerte Verde Skull a little brain damage. By the time morning comes along we are down to the cheekbones, well fed and watered.

A doctor friend of Mitch's makes a house call and treats our wounds. I am warned that I should be in a hospital with a wound like this, that I will need the dressing changed out several times a day. I smile and nod. Not here. I will get some treatment in Vegas on the road home. Home... I can't wait.

Up in Smoke

It is black... pitch black. I am in agony. My upper body is on fire. I can feel the internal damage control going on, leaving me semi-conscious and just a spectator to the valient efforts going on inside me... around me.

"DON'T YOU DIE ON ME, GODDAMN IT... " A familiar voice, just an echo. There is no bright light, but I am waiting for it. I am waiting to die.
I can hear distant gunfire, smell smoke... and burning flesh. Now I am being dragged. Dragged over very rough ground. I am rolled down into a small gully. I can smell damp wood and forest decay. The pain is too great and I am out.

Voices, speaking spanish and english. Running feet, cocking guns, all around me. I can hear all of this and my shallow breathing. There is someone next to me... on me. The spot we are in is cramped, dark, and small. The voices trail off and I try to open my eyes.

A face is pressed against mine, too close to tell who it is. Mitch raises up just slightly and I can see her eyes darting this way and that. She is a bloody mess.
"Mitch?"
A hand immediately clamps down on my mouth and her head presses against my chest. The pain immediately escalates and I am out once again.

The light of day is waining. It is very cold. I am alone, still in the gully with the smell of rotting wood. I have no idea what is going on, where I am, what has happened. There is an eerie silence. So completely deafening that I dwell on the thought that I might have died. I feel no pain, just numbness. I don't attempt to move. I do remember the red hot pain and do not wish to experience it again. No, I will just lay here and enjoy the lack of feeling and rest just a bit.
There is movement above my position... and then Mitch rolls down next to me.

"We need to get going."
"What happened? Where am I?"
"This is going to hurt, but I can't have you passing out this time. I can't get you up the hill and that is just where we have to go." Mitch talks as she sweeps her gaze along the panorama that spreads out before us. I try to focus and then see, in the coming darkness, the growing area far below us. There are dozens of holes in the ground. Now it all comes back.
"LOU?"
"No time... not now. We are still in danger." She shifts to her feet in a cat-like crouch and then starts to pull on me. "Don't you pass out on me, and no screaming."

I can't tell if the scream was internal or I let it out for all to hear, but the pain I would liken to loosing a limb. It tried to pound me into unconciousness, like a red hot sledge hammer on my shoulder and on my head.
"Holy JESUS fucking CHRIST what... " My vision tunnels and speckles of light close the dim light from my eyes.
"Come on, Jake, please stay with me." Mitch's voice is calm and pleading all at once.
I fight the urge to drop out and will my vision back. I bite back on the agony I am feeling and try to match her steps as we ascend the side of the mountain. We plod on, walking into a clearing where there are several bodies.
There, in the middle of the small platue is the Gator, burned beyond recogition. Another piece of the puzzle that I can't quite use to remember the big picture.
Mitch scrambles over to one of the dead and frisks him for weapons. She comes up with a semi-automatic of some kind and sticks it in the waist line of her jeans at the small of her back.

Gunfire... a single shot from across the valley. An expolision that lights up a scene five or six miles away for a moment or two. A smatter of automatic fire is returned, and then another single shot and another explosion.
"At least he is still with us."
"Who?" I look toward the illumination from the fireball and squint to see something, anything.
"Lou... that is my Mauser he is firing."

Oh shit. What has happened. I can't get passed the pain I am feeling. I don't know why and I am afraid to look to see where I am injured. What is left of my shirt is removed and Mitch starts cleaning the gunshot wound just below my collar bone about three inches in from my shoulder.
"Oh... great, just great." My voice runs hollow as she starts to clean the entrance wound. I don't scream out this time, but do feel like I am going to pass out.
"Stay with me, Jake." She dabs at the wound with a piece of semi-clean cloth that she tore from the body of one of Grable's men.
"We need water."

She is on her feet and I close my eyes. My whole body is throbbing and I think I might have pissed myself with that last wound probing she did. Mitch returns with a canteen.
"Whiskey." She says after giving it a sniff. "No wonder his boys can't shoot straight."
"They seemed to do a pretty good job on me."
The canteen is nearly empty and she sparingly rinses the wound. I wince and try to be a man about it, but tears are running down my face from the pain.
"You have an exit wound just below your shoulder blade." She talks now from behind me as she inspects as best she can in the dusklight.
"It must have missed anything big, you aren't bleeding as badly as you were earlier."
"Gee, that is great news."
"Hey, you could have died trying to rescue me like you did. That was very brave." I can hear her tearing strips of cloth.

Ah ha, brave... that was very brave of me. Nope, still nothing.
"What happened back there. I don't remember a thing."
Just then she holds my good shoulder and tells me this is going to hurt. It does. I am out once again, and rightly so. While I am unconscious she stuffs the two long strips of cloth dipped in the whiskey into my entrance and exit wounds. When I come to it is all so unpleasant.

"Motherfucker... that hurts."
"A rifle shot will do that to you. Don't worry, you're going to be okay if we can get you into town to a doctor within the next several hours." She is working with another man's shirt, tearing the bloody portions away and then tying up the ends. Over my head it goes and with another agonizing move she has my arm in the sling. I don't black out this time, wish I had.

"We need to get out of here." She goes to the Gator carcass and examines it.
"So... what the hell happened here?" I stand and waiver... then gain my faculties and take in the carnage.

There are three men on the ground, deader than my Aunt Fannie, a lot of shell casings, the burned out Gator... the back covered in dirt as though someone tried to put out the fire.
"Wait a minute." I say to myself. Like the fog clearing from Utah beach I begin to see and remember. "Holy shit, it must have worked."

Mitch pulls on the burned out emergency brake and it releases. The Gator rolls appropriately. She uses the motion to back it up and turn it. Once she has it aimed where she wants it, she pulls on the brake and it sets. Both back tires are flat, melted off the rims in spots.

"I hoped you got the extended warranty."
She looks at me and smiles, "Still the same Jake. Funny even when your shot through the torso."
"Well, we played hard as kids too, don't forget." I am referring to war games we used to play as kids with those Daisy one cock bb guns. We wore safety glasses... of sorts, but that didn't stop a good face shot.
Mitch rubs her right cheekbone, "That still hurts on a cold day, you son of a bitch."
Her smile fades and she crouches. I don't turn and look, I just crouch too and follow her lead.
She makes it over to the Gator with me in tow. I can see what she sees now, flashlights about two hundred yards off and closing. We lower ourselves onto the remains of the still smoking seats. As we do, behind us there is movement through the brush.

Mitch bails out of the Gator and hits the ground, pistol drawn and ready to fire. It will surely give our position away, but that's water under the bridge if this is one of Grabel's...
"Don't shoot me, hon."
"LOU." Mitch whispers loudly.
He lifts her to her feet and hugs her, then plants a kiss on her. It may not have been what she expected, but it is a second or two before they part.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" She turns him in the darkness and comes up with a smile.
"I'm okay. What about you, Jake."
Before I can respond he slaps me on the shoulder. In the darkness he didn't make out the sling. I am out once again.

I open my eyes to a jarring scene. The three of us are bouncing down the mountain in the Gator carcass, no lights, no engine. Just a bone crushing decent that has us out of our seats as often as in them. I am between the two of them. Mitch is at the wheel and Lou is on my other side. They must have thought it would be the best place for me, but I don't suppose there is any "best" place on this wild ride.

We bounce out of the trees and the Gator immediately finds one of the holes we had dug earlier. It noses in, launching the three of us onto the meadow. I don't black out this time. I do feel as though I have no feeling below my neck, however. It doesn't bother me as much as all of that. No pain, but most likely paralized.

Everything is silent now, not even a cricket dares to chirp. I am on my back looking at the stars... wishing all of a sudden that I was back on that beach on the Sea of Cortez.
"Jake, you okay? That shit working on you?"
I turn my head and look at Lou, his face blackened with soot or something so all you see are wild eyes and teeth.
"What shit is working on me?"
"Morphine, Nancy. One of those guys I dispatched must have been Grabel's doctor or something. He had a full med kit with lancets and everything." He pulls a small bag out of a napsack he has on his back. "If you need some more, I can help with that."
I attempt to move my good arm and hand so it is in front of my face. Yep, there it is. That morphine was working too good.
"Jesus, Lou, how much of this shit did you give me?"
"A couple of doses. You're shot pretty bad. I'm sorry."

I lay there and digest this comment. I try to remember but it is way too sketchy.
"What do you mean... you're sorry?"
"Well, without a test shot or two it is hard to sight in a rifle to a spot that small."
"What the fuck does that... you shot me? YOU fucking shot ME?"
"Now don't get your panties in a bunch." Lou unslings the Mauser and lays it on the ground next to him.
"You shot me... "
"Jesus Christ, do you think I did it on purpose. I was aiming at the cans just like we planned. It's your fucking fault that you didn't move away like I told you in the first place."

It all comes back, like that first drop on a roller coaster. I drove the Gator up from the valley like we were ordered. Lou stayed behind. I told them over the radio that he was too old and had a heart attack, something that would explain why he wasn't with me. They didn't have to buy it. They just had to let me drive up and park in Lou's line of fire. They bought it and I was allowed into their camp.
I remember that we told them to have Mitch untied and ready to go over the radio on my way up there. When I motored into their clearing, they could see the kerosene cans surrounding the duffles.

I stepped off the Gator and told them that Lou was watching. If he didn't see Mitch and me walking away unguarded, he would blow up the Gator. I remember that much. Then I remember Mitch being freed and her taking my hand and running. That is when the first shot rang out. I remember thinking it was them trying to kill us. Then the next shot seconds later took out the Gator and the duffles. As they scrambled to put out the fire we ran into the forest.
"Oh shit." I look at Lou, "She ran me in the wrong direction."
Mitch's eyes grow wide, "Me? I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know what you had planned."
"It's okay... you're okay. That's all that counts."

There was action on the hillside. We were being pursued. It seems that Lou had led them out and away from our position and then made a wide arc to bring them back again. Now they were at our backs so to speak.
"We have to run for it." Mitch says, getting to her feet. The two of them get me on mine and we are running toward the growing shed, protected for now by the cover of night. The meadow is dangerous with all of the holes. We know that the bulk of them are behind us... but they do not. As we make it to the growing shed, we can hear someone wailing. Probably fell into one of the holes and broke his ankle.

They are closing on us. I look through the separations in the wood out onto the meadow. I can see the beams of the flashlights as they play off of the ground looking for holes. Behind me, Lou is pulling the tarps off of the motorcycles.
"Can you ride?"
"They're my bikes, Lou, of course I can ride."
"Good. He needs a doctor."
"We stick together. You two are all I have left."
"No arguement. You take him on the bike and get into town." Lou pulls the rifle off of his back and sets it against the barn. "I am out of rounds so making a diversion is going to be just that much more difficult."
I turn, "They're coming."

Whatever plan Lou was hatching for our escape ends abruptly.
"You are clever, Louis. But too clever for your own good, I'm afraid."
Grablw and his men move quickly into the growing shed. There are only two of Grable's men left standing.
"You have killed most of my men, burned my money, and are causing me to miss particularly interesting show on PBS tonight."
Lou smiles at that last one.
"Oh, but this is not too funny, Louis, especially not for you." He motions to his men and as one of them holds a gun on Mitch and me, the other yanks Lou towards Grable, who slaps a pair of handcuffs on him.

"What, are you going to arrest me, Trooper?"
"Don't be silly. I am going to kill you, nice and slow so I get my million dollars worth out of it."