The cries of the man pulled his eyes: two young armed with goat horns they punched and kicked, trying to tame it , then upload the vehicle they were traveling.
She rarely left the house and heard everything when he passed through there in that central area. At first he thought it was a domestic dispute, a regular verbal and morning haggling in that hamlet, so ignored; but when he heard the gunmen who wanted to subdue him , he turned.
"The Lord said 'not me, compa. I said nothing, I did not speak. For my mommy, my God ', he repeated loudly, crying , "said Rebecca, who was passing by, located down the street Escobedo, a few meters from Nicolas Bravo Avenue, near the Chinese restaurant, China Loa, in the first frame of the city.
The man bellowed like an animal to the scaffold. Crying with supplications, manoteo to take hold air, railing outside his home, the few plants that his wife had planted in the front garden pauper.
One gave him a cachazo on the left cheekbone. The other kicked him in the abdomen twice. And when they thought that he had finally given up fighting, they tried to lift it , taking hands and feet, on tenterhooks. It was in vain. The stranger was heavy and effort performed was insufficient.
"I do not take, listen, please. I did not go, I said nothing , "the man told them. Rebecca said those murderers seemed not to hear. They, like beasts, kicked his victim and gave him blows with the butts of their automatic rifles. All that mattered was to submit and then upload it to the waiting car and which would go without problems.
"Shut up asshole". The neighbor tied his hands to the vertical tubes, a wire fence, to air, to life. "Do not take me, please." The answers were new orders to silence and threats that there were going to kill himself. One of the gunmen, apparently the youngest, took out a handgun and cut cartridge. He pointed to his head and shouted that he was serious, it was better to calm down and go up to the car.
"He was a big man, about 130 kilos. He brought sleeveless shirt and blue pants. Mustache adorning his swollen cheeks and beard of thorns , "she recalled.
The men beat him. They could not with him, with that weight. The man was lying on the floor. It seemed surrendered. But when the gunmen attacked again to lift him, they failed again.
She tried to distract herself from hearing or turn to see. She was with her two children and quickly distracted, tried to talk to not hear the screams and cries, and his body blocked the scene of the attack. "One of the kids asked me what happens. 'Nothing, son. They're just fighting, are discussing gentlemen, who want to fix their problems. That 's all, do not worry '. The truth that was what occurred to me, as long as safe out there. "
He said that with fast movements climbed into the driver 's seat and sped out of the garage. He accelerated without checking the rearview mirror, mumbling a 'I see, I see , "barely audible. In the distance, the coven rifles, kicking and jostling still alive. The two joined which was waiting in the vehicle.
Others passing by. They did it in public transport trucks, in cars or on foot themselves. All fled. They passed and rushed. They pretended not to see. They pretended to forget. "This already was, as it happened." And undertook withdrawal, they realized just what this trio of gunmen had with the man who sought to illegally deprived of liberty. "Do not turn, are raising one." That was the slogan. Flag for survival. Sufficient dose in the treatment of resignation: "I do not see, not hear, not speak."
She hit the steering wheel, trying to distract himself. He thought that this could remember a song, flee faster. Or make a little music and wrap with her children, who still had the wide - eyed than usual, which had the face of horror. He searched the station dial daily newscast that listened; I wanted to cancel the memory, yelling, crying, please. He is shivering away in summer under a moody sun at that time, around nine, and threw his flaming and insufferable invisible rays over the heads of the culichis. And he went there, musing, "I will gain weight."
I encobijado
"Tons why. For the last time, where is the horn. The money is worth mothers, no fart. But the horn, that yes , "said the gunman. The boy was shaking and not cold. One was pointing a gun. Another gave several cachazos and pushed the dark canyon in the mouth: an invasive and coppery taste bitter.
Stuttering. "I i i. No no no. I dont know. I do not know co-co-company. I know nothing". His jaw turned rebellious and mouthy. He replied nearest him stop that shit. "I'll kill you if you keep throwing lies, click 'tacuache'".
They wrapped him in a blanket checkered. Hands tied with a yellow rope, nylon. Feet tied them up with a coffee colored tape. The way they sheathed his body with that thick garment, green and black boxes, could remind their parents, care, childhood. But no. Death was three words.
"Who was it , jerk. Say it". The unwary confessed that the Chute was the one who took the automatic rifle claimed both those murderers. He let the baby cry disgraced and abandoned.
"Shut the fuck up , motherfucker. If not, we 'll kill you right here. " He gave her a slap and put his feet up. He was on the floor of the rear of the car.
He told them who and how was the Chute. And where he lived. They were going to look, Colonia Emiliano Zapata, south of the city, in Culiacan. I did not know until he heard the voices. He recognized the neighborhood, the house of seeking. The Chute shot out the back street.
"There he goes, there goes" someone shouted. They jumped on the bandwagon and chased through the streets, among wooden shacks and sheet. The terregal of footsteps, the poluto wind, dust dancing shoes, tennis and tires, tucking, nestling in nose, mouth, pores, eyes.
Screams, frenones, drag race, police laps. Crack, crack. One of them cut cartridge. "Here I have, 'plebs'." He had his knees, with downcast eyes and sniffling.
'I did not go, boss. Net.
Who was, you bastard? Who?
He told them everything. Like he was wrapped in an orange blanket. They tied him up and put him above the other. The owner of the automatic rifle and lived there money in this sector. He was the head of those thugs, whose home had been visited by thieves who plunder between the gun and several wads of cash were taken. Money, because either way. It was lost. But the horn, that does not. And they went to look for him .
He had given it to someone very dear. He gave the goat horn with gold pieces. He walked "pinnate" with the rifle. I could not lose.
They came up with the third of those involved. They went up and made ball. They headed south of the city. They spoke of morras, drugs, altered altered rolas movement and all that disease. They stopped in the middle of a hollow fractionation and down both in a wide desert ridge, along the boulevard Las Torres, near the fractionation Infonavit Barrancos.
They toss to the ground. Another crack, crack was heard. They thought it was the end. They moquearon and implored. But his captors pulled him. "A fuck your mother fuckers. And woe to you if you turn around , "said one of them.
They stood there, dazed, screaming. They broke awkwardly and tried to run. They writhed like worms to get rid of the blanket and coffee colored tape which had been tied. Those regained goat horn, as they call the AK-47. Third encobijado did not know more until he was found by police: signs of having been tortured, bullet injuries caused his death, found on Channel 7, beyond the fractionation Barrancos.
Three heads
In high school Salvador Allende around saying what he had done in that city, just a week before: "I went to lie down two heads, two baths, they said 'go and kill , ' and I threw myself there and gave them 'floor' these bastards. I felt machín net. "
At school he looked uneasy. It was not those addicted to death, killing free as long experience again that emotion, fear, adrenaline, pleasant to dispose of the lives of others and end with a pull of the trigger, a burst, with every morning a person.
The campus is located between Guadeloupe and Rosales colonies, in a central area of the city of Culiacan. The school is part of the system's degree from the Autonomous University of Sinaloa, where the mob has gone hand harasses young, seduces with these luxury cars that exhibit while seem to be waiting outside the high school, young people go armed, sell or use drugs, and prostitution is a great showcase disguised as a schoolboy uniform and dress shirts brand Ferrari.
He wanted to enter the "knack" as they call those in organized crime. And knowing thugs and drug dealers bringing a weapon and walk bastard. He was not going well in class, but not as long lacked see friends. It went deeper gradually, without realizing it. And one morning he "tas inside, but you have to aventarte one pull" they said.
"What is there to do. Who to kill. " He released no more. "Look, are these baths". They give bastards but they have done much damage the boss. They owe wool, do what they want, they are desmadrosos. They explained where and when. Thousand pesos per diem.
"The bushes and you come. I do not want farts. As you finish, you go pa after ". "Orale" he replied, as if he were talking to another high school. "I will give five thousand. But with that, there p'alante, one hundred with us. And pure p'arriba and p'arriba. "
"Ta very easy. Then I came, I go to that place. Surely there will reach them. Well, there's hope and see them as pum, pum, pum. And fuck back. A toda madre. Tomorrow, surely, here we are and I bring you these two calacas ".
The next day he left. He came and did not last long in identifying them . He had been, as he explained. He came over and took three steps while pulled the top of the square to raise the cartridge. And when I had a little over a meter he shot them. Saw fell, wanting to take a breath, lengthen life. Already on the floor, one more to ensure success.
He laughed nervously. And as he walked away and kept the gun felt I could not wipe the smile off his face, stuck between many muscles. Who was determined to his face that he no longer wished to smile. He thought "must be the nerves." But he continued like that and forgot that grin when he returned to high school.
There, in classrooms and hallways between classes, he told his friends. And another and another. And these to others. "One day he said, were the same companions, who were walking not commenting ... 'and forget about walking counting that, dude , ' but as that did not catch the wave, because he liked to boast , " said an employee of the safety area the high school. "You are going to fuck , " he warned.
"He Nomás laughed, confident, as if nothing had happened, as if he had not heard the advice, and answered 'peel me', and because either way, what will make one there, nothing!"
The young man replied that already brought to defend himself. And left a black fusca show, Gloc, which looked brand - new. "I Nomás you say, crazy. Get ready. Come on, man."
But they did not give him time. And he could not bring his hand to the gun he had in his fanny pack. "Do not do to fart, nose. Let's go". It appeared lying on the mountain. "We tortured slouch , " say friends.
The news of levantón ran through the halls and classrooms of the school. They knew him when he was found dead, with signs of having been tortured, in an uninhabited spot of the city.
"Poor bato, was his first pull. And all for wanting to enter the narcada, to go on the 'click'. Those who saw him when they were brought by him say that grin. As the bato smiled, as he was not afraid. They do not know they no longer could with that smile that trembled inside, goodbye. "
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