Chapter Eleven
The afternoon sun beamed down as the temperature rose. Chris wiped the sweat from his brow as he struggled to keep up with Margurite and her son. He didn't know what to expect from this person. He knew what things he needed to get Dawn away from Michael, but he wondered if they had it. And if they did, would they help him. It was obvious that they had problems of their own. “It's just over this hill,” Margurite said.
Chris could see several old makeshift huts surrounding a well. Only a few people were moving around as they came down the hill. After hearing a couple of people shouting, more people rushed out and Chris became nervous.
“These are the people of Cora. Well, at least some of them, Chris,” she said with a smile.
They greeted her with open arms, then pulled her to the side and gave her some news that upset her. A young man pushed his way through the crowd until he reached Margurite. She looked the young man over and then grabbed him, pulled him close to her and held him. They both cried. His pants were dirty, his shirt ripped and torn. His life was devastated and he didn't know what to do. He was one of the men who escaped when the others were caught and burned alive. Later, he went back and the sight in the field destroyed him. He had lost his life and love, looking at Sandra hanging there. Her body burnt and slowly swinging in the breeze. Margurite rubbed his back, then kissed his forehead. With a sigh, she walked over to Chris. Her long black hair and tanned features made her look so much more lovely. Margurite had a wonderful figure and even though the clothes that she was wearing weren't flattering, it didn't take away from her. Chris noticed these things about her. He knew that she had to be a strong woman, able to continue to care for these people, even though her husband was murdered. The people looked to her for strength and understanding, but the tears that ran from her eyes indicated that something was wrong, terribly wrong.
“I'm sorry, but I just got some horrible news. The man I was hugging. His wife was my best friend and Michael caught her and two others. They were hung and burned alive,” she explained.
Just then, another man walked up and tapped Margurite on the shoulder. She turned around and smiled at the man standing in front of her. “Samuel,” she said now holding him tightly in her arms.
“It's been a while, cousin,” he said softly in her ear. “I thought you given up on us.” Samuel spotted a small figure standing behind Margurite. “Is that Julio?” The small child popped his head out from behind his mother and smiled, but couldn't duck behind her again as Samuel grabbed him and hoisted him into the air. Julio smiled and laughed without making a sound.
“Samuel, this is Chris. He's with the F.B.I.,” Margurite said introducing him.
“I know,” Samuel said shaking Chris' hand. “His people have been asking questions about him.”
“They're here to take me back,” Chris said with a sigh.
“Samuel, I heard what happened in the field. We need to see Alvarez. It's time for us to take back what is ours,” she said.
“Come,” Samuel said leading them through the crowd of people. “We'll eat afterwards.
Chris followed behind looking around. Some of the huts appeared to be abandoned while other looked in worse shape. The aroma of different smells had blended together into a disgusting odor and he wondered how hey could live like that. Rebuild their town in another part away from Michael. Still, he had to remember that they were poor people, who had everything taken from them. What hit him the hardest, was the fact that there were places in the United States that looked the same, if not worse. They walked to the furthest of the huts, where a man stood guard. Most of the huts were large and had cots and a wood burning stove, chairs, and tables. The man smiled at Margurite, then opened the door. Chris walked in and saw two men standing behind an older man, who sat quietly at the table. In front of him was a bottle of liquor and a small shot glass. Margurite and Chris sat to the table and endured a long moment of silence. The older man's face was partially hidden in the shadow of the hut. No candles were lit and the only true light was coming in through the windows. Chris felt as though he would be interrogated
“It has been a long time, Margurite. You're still looking as beautiful as ever,” Alvarez said finally breaking the silence.
“Thank you.”
“Now who is this young man?,” he asked while pouring himself a drink.
“Chris Westbrook. He needs our help in getting a woman back that Michael Rodriguez kidnapped,” she told him.
He studied Chris' face carefully, then shook his head. “Why do you think you can take on the cartel by yourself?”
“I can't,” Chris admitted. “I have to try. With a few weapons, I might be able to get her out.”
Alvarez didn't look at Chris, but watched Marguerite's expressions while Chris talked. He remembered seeing that same look when he introduced her to Victor Sanchez.
“Wait outside,” he told Chris, stopping in mid sentence.
Margurite sadly watched Chris walk out the door, then turned her attention to Alvarez. “Why won't you help him?,” she asked.
“You really like this American,” he remarked. “You don't have to say anything, but I know.”
“Alvarez, all he needs is a few of our weapons, but I want all the men. We need to show him that he can't walk over us any longer. That we will fight back,” she said.
“Margurite, we are a simple people. We don't need anymore trouble,” he told her.
“We're a people who were chased out of our homes. He hung my best friend and set her on fire. Now it's the time to fight! I believe we should help Chris and take back what belongs to us. If we continue to let Michael get away with it, he'll take our lives!”
“Enough!”
“No!,” Margurite said standing up. “We gave Michael our homes, our town, and even our lives. You know he won't be satisfied until he has it all. What will we do, when he decides to take this from us?”
“Margurite, you're right as always,” he said. “Your husband was a wise man and I see that some of it has rubbed off on you.”
“Please, Alvarez. Let us fight.”
“Why, after all this time?,” he asked.
“Talking to Chris made me realize that sometimes we can't just let everything happen to us. At some point and time, we have to take a stand and make things happen for us,” she explained.
“Hector,” he said sharply
“Yes, Alvarez.”
“Show them what we have stored over the past year,” he said pouring himself another drink. Alvarez quickly emptied his glass as he did the other. “I will tell the what you propose and let them decide.”
“Thank you, Alvarez. Thank you,” she said standing up.
“Margurite,” he said causing her to turn around. “I know you like this American. Make sure you like him for the right reasons.”
She smiled and nodded before leaving. Chris was still standing outside wondering if he would get any help at all. He couldn't wait for ever though. He couldn't wait for ever. He had to get Dawn and this wasting of precious time, she could die.
Alvarez sat down in the chair and poured himself another drink. There was a reason why he hadn't fought back against Michael. The people of Cora didn't have the skill and know how to defend themselves. Even Michael came in and took people to work in his fields, he knew that they would be better off than fighting him. They would live longer. Alvarez began to cry as he thought about Tina. She was like a daughter to him. He raised her from the age of five and now she was gone. She was an empty shell burnt and hanging, swinging lifelessly from a makeshift post. He did feel ashamed in letting Michael get away with so much. It was time to fight and he knew that people would die, but Margurite was right. He had waited too long to make Michael pay for all he'd done.
“Chris,” Margurite said. “Follow me.”
“What did he say? Is he going to help me?”
“It's better than that. When you get Michael, you won't be by yourself,” she said with a smile. “We're going to take the fight to Michael.” Chris sighed and stopped walking.
“What's the matter?,” she asked.
“Margurite, I was only looking for help for myself. I don't want to start a revolution. I don't want to be responsible for anyone's life, but my own.”
“Chris, this is something we must do. Everyone here wants to fight and are prepared to die for freedom,” she told him. “We are not joining you. You are joining us.”
She held his hand while Hector led them to an old abandoned hut. It looked as though no one had ever lived there with its dust covered floor. It was empty and larger than any of the others, but seemed smaller on the inside. They walked inside and Hector said, “Stand back.” He pulled a lever by the door and the wall separating the room feel away landing in front of them. Chris could smell the odor of rotting wood as the tarp was removed by Hector. Shock came across his face in seeing the arsenal of weapons. They ranged from automatic handguns, to grenades and rocket launchers.
“Fucking World War III!,” Hector shouted.
Chris knew that he'd started something that could easily get out of control.
#
It was late in the afternoon as Chris leaned up against an old battered pickup truck that the villagers used to transport food and smuggle weapons. He watched as the men said their farewells to their families and it made him think about Dawn. He had planned on attacking Michael by stealth, but now he would have to do it another way.
Margurite walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. “It'll take us two days to get there.
We should make up a plan and have it ready by then,” she said. Chris didn't answer, but instead he stared at the ground. “Chris, is something bothering you?”
“No. I'm just not sure if I'm doing the right thing,” he said.
Margurite sighed and said, “It's out of your hands, Chris. You are not dragging us into a fight. We need to do this for ourselves. We have to take back what belongs to us.”
“Margurite, I understand that, but I still feel like I'm the cause of it,” he told her.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and stared into his eyes and smiled so warmly. “Chris, you are the inspiration, but not the cause. Michael's the cause,” she explained. “Now, let's finish getting this truck loaded.”