Chapter 7
by Christi
The little path cut into an unexpected little area of trees. I can't call it a proper rainforest or jungle. Just some trees. I couldn't believe how un-tropical all this was starting to look. It looked like rural east Texas. With the Gulf of Mexico on the side.
I shook my head in quiet disappointment.
After a few more minutes, I heard the call of birds and the rustle of startled wildlife as we invaded their domain.
"That's more like it," I said.
"Que? Shut up!"
We headed into a little hut looking shack type thing wherein stood a table with four rickety chairs. Pedro motioned me to sit in one of them. I did so, the gun still trained on me. There was another dude in the hut. He was wearing a straw hat and a white linen sport coat, with a pair of Bermuda shorts. It went downhill from there; his shoes were flip-flops. The ones from the Flip Flop Frenzy last month at Dollar Tree.
And through all that, he wore a gold Rolex.
He took a minute, looking menacing in his sunglasses. The fat cigar on which he puffed filled the close hut with acrid smoke. I would not cough. That would be a sign of weakness.
Finally, he spoke. "We need to know that you can be trusted."
"What? This is a real passport. What else do you want?"
He closed his eyes, having removed the sunglasses. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. I could swear I heard the ocean in the distance. But it was wishful thinking; Pedro farted.
The man, whom folks called Hector Valdez, waved his hand at Pedro to lower the weapon. He took a seat across from me.
"Listen. We don't mean to come across as terrible people. It's just that our friend - our mutual friend - Carlos Hierba de Trigo, is in thick trouble. We have to be sure that the people who work with us aren't double agents for the cartel."
"Look at her, Hector. Really?"
"Yeah," he said after a moment, "Yeah, you're right. She's okay. You are the girl from that hell hole on earth, yes? You worked with our Carlos there at the time?"
"The call center? Yes, that's me."
"Right. You see, Pedro - you have a point. She has that - look about her." He waved a hand over his face, scrunching his nose.
"What look?"
"That I've Been Sucked Into a Corporate Training Program Look. Poor girl." His face softened.
"Oh, I can vouch for that, Hector. She was all concerned about calling into work."
"That's crap! You're with us, now. Things are about to change for the better."
"Sir, we better go. The truck will meet us at sunset."
"Good. And bring her a drink. Some food. We've got to remind her that there's a world out there. Let's go!"
...Chapter 8 is as a lighthouse on the shore of an ocean of tumultuous iniquity, a glow of hope in a dreary odd world!
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