Deep night.
Bird calls and unknown animal roars made people tremble a bit.
A checkpoint about 3 kilometers from Mexicali.
Six soldiers guarded here, but they didn't belong to any force under Victor. They were government troops sent by the Mexican government - that force whose leader was beheaded in the "massage parlor."
They hadn't been disbanded but were assigned to guard the surroundings.
While they hid inside drinking.
"Hey, do you think those police from Guadalupe Island are idiots? Anti-drug? Are drugs that easy to ban? Even if he killed so many drug dealers, I admit he's impressive, but can he kill all 7 million drug dealers in Mexico?"
"Does he dare?!"
A drunk soldier was clearly high, face flushed red, looking intoxicated. "After today, tomorrow I'll go join my cousin. He's in Juárez. Following him means good food and drink, better than being a small soldier here."
"Enough, shut up!" The second lieutenant frowned. "You're drunk."
"Am I wrong? Anti-drug! If we ban drugs, what do we eat? How do we support our families? Just rely on 300 pesos monthly salary? Can you as a second lieutenant earn much more than us?"
Before this soldier finished, his comrade covered his mouth. "Stop talking, don't talk nonsense. Platoon leader, he's just drunk."
The second lieutenant's expression was dark, but suddenly his ears moved. He grabbed his weapon and ran out, not forgetting to say, "Someone's coming!"
Other soldiers quickly grabbed weapons. As for the drunk one...
He lay on the ground like mud, air still blowing through his nostrils.
When the second lieutenant and his group ran out, they just saw a black SUV approaching. He ordered people to turn on bright lights, shouting loudly in Spanish, "Stop! Or we'll shoot!"
The SUV stopped 20 meters away. The driver got out of the driver's seat, raising his hands holding a bag. "Don't shoot."
Slowly moving to about ten meters away, he directly threw the bag over.
It landed right in front of the second lieutenant and others.
U.S. dollars fell out.
"There's $100,000 here. We're borrowing a road."
These were drug dealers!
Who else would bribe a checkpoint with money late at night?
Who else could it be but criminals?
The soldiers beside him brightened up, breathing becoming rapid, simultaneously looking at the second lieutenant. The latter took a deep breath. "Get out, inspection!"
The driver's face darkened, looking back at the SUV.
Inside was also a big figure.
Zambada's brother, nicknamed "Sinaloa Leopard," Ismael Zambada Vicks. He and another brother were quite fierce on the battlefield, leading people to assault the first line of defense, but died pretty quickly too.
His brother was directly blown apart by anti-aircraft machine guns!
"Sinaloa Leopard" turned into a wild boar, running everywhere. Fortunately he ran fast, barely saving his life.
"$200,000!" The driver shouted loudly.
"Get out!" The second lieutenant roared.
The soldiers beside exchanged glances, then swallowed, simultaneously acting to directly press the second lieutenant to the ground, forcefully holding down his head.
"Platoon leader, why do you want to prevent us from getting rich!"
"Platoon leader, only you can die!"
Several soldiers shouted loudly, then one pulled out a bayonet and viciously pierced through the second lieutenant's neck, the sharp blade even stabbing into the ground.
The second lieutenant's eyes widened, struggling hard, but his strength gradually weakened. His whole body convulsed once, then died.
Soldiers rushed up to grab the money on the ground. Looking at the money in their hands, they raised their heads to look at the driver. "Where's the rest of the money?"
The driver breathed a sigh of relief. Sure enough, Mexico was still Mexico. People like Guadalupe Island Police Department were ultimately a minority.
Most people still liked money!
The driver returned to the vehicle for money and threw it to them. The soldiers pulled open the barrier, watching the SUV disappear into darkness.
"The second lieutenant is dead. What now?" One soldier said.
Others looked at each other.
"Then let's go join the drug dealers! After all, fighting for whom isn't fighting? With this money we can live well for a while." Someone proposed.
This method immediately gained everyone's agreement. They divided the money and ran.
On the lonely checkpoint, a lonely corpse of the second lieutenant. He stared wide-eyed, looking toward the distance - precisely Mexicali's direction.
The alcohol in the checkpoint was also bought by him.
At the sky's edge, darkness was gradually disappearing, but... darkness also swallowed much brilliance. Some people fell before the sun rose the next day.
When relief soldiers saw this scene, the corpse had already been gnawed clean by wild dogs. They hurriedly reported this matter up.
When Victor received this news, he was also shocked.
"You're saying the sacrificed second lieutenant was from the Gorostiza family?"
Casare also nodded heavily.
This surname in Baja California represented "heroes." They were a famous police family. Since Mexico had drug dealers over 100 years ago, they had been fighting drug dealers.
A total of 17 people sacrificed.
"When Camarena was sacrificed in 1985, there were actually two other Mexican police officers. One was Pietra Gorostiza. He had 71 knife wounds on his body, estimated to have been injected with 7 adrenaline shots. And this second lieutenant was his only adult child."
Casare's voice was low. "He was in college then, then entered the Baja California anti-drug force."
"Their family has one last brother and sister left, but not yet adults. Life is quite difficult. They reportedly still live in slums. The two haven't attended school."
Victor exhaled deeply, feeling chest tightness. "Damn Mexico!"
This country's heroes actually fell to this state. Was it sad? Or lamentable?
Where was the compensation?
Where was the post-incident care?
All garbage!
Victor forcibly suppressed the roar in his heart, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "You take people to bring them over. At Mexicali's most luxurious place, I want to host a banquet for these heroes and sacrificed heroes' families."
"Have Mexicali's high officials still breathing come over."
"If they don't come."
Victor squinted. "Then use armored vehicles to crush them to death!"
...
Milia Mirés Gorostiza struggled to hold a wooden bucket. Inside were her brother's worn clothes.
She was only 9 years old, but she knew her brother's difficulties. Since their father died, their mother also fell ill and passed away. It was her brother who raised them.
What she could do, she should do within her ability.
Her small body holding that large basin at the river's edge looked very lonely.
Smack~
A stone hit not far in front of her. The splashed water startled Milia. She cried out. Beside her came sounds of playful laughter and fighting.
Milia turned her head and saw several thugs standing there pointing at her, all about 18 or 19 years old.
"Hey! Where's your soldier brother? Did he die today?" A young man with dyed yellow hair shouted.
Milia lowered her head silently. They often bullied her. Reportedly, their parents were drug dealers, but not in Mexicali - in the north.
"Not dead? Tell your brother not to go out, or many people outside want to kill him. Do you know how many people died yesterday?" Someone cursed. "He'll be killed sooner or later!"
Milia still didn't speak. She was used to submitting to adversity.
But this made these bastards even more unrestrained. One young man about 18 rushed up and kicked over Milia's basin. Seeing her brother's clothes fall into the river, she panicked and reached out to retrieve them, but accidentally fell directly into the river.
Instantly all the river water poured into her mouth. She raised her hands, frantically shouting for help.
Young men on shore laughed loudly, even throwing stones.
"As expected!"
"Drug dealers' bastards can only be bastards!" A long-suppressed angry voice sounded behind them.
"Rookie" Giancarlo, bandaged, looked at these bastards with red eyes, then pulled out his gun, aiming at them.
"Even if justice sacrifices, it's not darkness's turn to hang high in the sky!"
He directly fired. Bang bang bang!!
If God forgot Mexico.
Then Victor's soldiers would execute justice!
(End of Chapter)
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