Chapter Twenty-Seven.
It was nearing dawn. Three men and their horses were moving quickly up the east bank of the Rio Grande river. At approximately 0300 hours the clouds had cleared out and the night had brightened up.
Allen Zapata was running alongside his horse, cursing non-stop in three different languages. Master Sergeant Juan De La Cruz was to the left of him, running alongside his own horse and listening with rapt attention. Juan was a ten centimeters taller than Allen. He had a stocky build and long legs. His reddish brown hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat. He had a rectangular face and a slightly crooked nose. It was the kind of nose that had been punched a few times. Like Allen he was well dressed, in dirt and sweat stained clothing.
Between the two of them was a man mounted on a mare. The man’s name was Michael Stevens, and the mare’s name was Bellé. Michael was unconscious. He was kept in the saddle by tying his legs to the stirrups and attaching a backpack to his chest and tying it to him, and the saddle, securing him to his horse. Every kilometer, they stopped to check if his big, dumb ass was still tied securely to the horse.
The two men stopped once again to check the ropes holding Mike to the saddle. The master sergeant waited until he had caught his breath, then said, “Captain, if your mum heard you using language like that, she would be very disappointed in you. I know she tried to raise you right.”
Zapata snorted then declared, “John, my mother is a ‘Lady’ of fine breeding and outstanding reputation. She comes from a wealthy and influential family with strong ties to the government. And she has a mouth on her that can make ME blush when she gets going.”
De La Cruz chuckled. “Personally, I don’t believe the rumors.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“The rumors you spread about her reputation. I’ve met the Senator from Costa Rica, I’ve seen her in action. I know her reputation.”
Allen laughed. “You can fuck right off. I’m going to tell her you said that.”
Allen finished checking the ropes on his side of Bellé and patted her neck.
“Shit’s tight over here. How about you?”
“Bueno.”
“Ready to move out?”
Juan reached up and removed one of the water skins attached to Bellé’s saddle and said, “I need ten. In case it has slipped the captain’s mind, I am a staff NCO, not a scout. I cannot run from sunup to sundown.”
Allen checked his watch. “You got ten. Have a sit down. You hungry?”
The two men sat down on a good sized rock.
“Unlike you, I can’t eat a meal and then turn right around and run twenty fucking kilometers, sir. I’ll puke. I need at least a half hour." Juan pointed, "That pretty little mare is only going to carry that big bastard for another ten kay anyway, and then we’ll have to put him on mine. I’ll eat when we stop to do that. Remind me again why we have a wounded man on our little pleasure trip?”
“John, I honestly don’t know. I should have left him in that town. He could die from his concussion before he ever sets his eyes on his sister again. He’s been through some shit. Maybe I thought it was too dangerous to leave him in that town. Maybe I thought he deserved a chance to feel like he was going to make a difference in all this. The kid is tough.”
“I always knew you were a nice guy under that mean old captain act you put on all the time.”
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Allen snorted. “You start spreading rumors about me being a nice guy and I’ll have you shot. ¿Comprender?”
“Empty threats, Captain, empty threats. Your mother would never forgive you for that, and you know it. She fancies me.”
Zapata growled, “That right there is reason enough for me to fucking murder you.”
“Is that any way to talk to your future father?”
“I will fucking kill you.”
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
“Where’s my gun?”
“Don’t make any rash decisions Son, you need to ask your mother how to handle this situation. I know this is going to be awkward for you.”
“Did you think I was fucking kidding when I said I would fucking murder you? You thick fuck.”
Both men started laughing.
Allen turned to Juan and punched him in the shoulder, really hard. He then pulled out the map the sheriff had provided. He pointed to a spot and said, “I think we’re about here. This map is in miles, but I’ve been keeping pace count in meters. And I’m not sure how accurate this map really is. But from what I have been able to see of the other side of the river, I think we may be closing the distance between us and them. This side of the river is much better terrain for moving at speed and with these bends in the river the way they are, we are on a shorter path than they are.”
Juan nodded. “That’s about where I put us. I’ve been counting bends in the river. And we are definitely going to be moving faster on this side. Even with the big guy tiring out the horses. Which reminds me. I’m going to have to mount and ride soon. That means we will have two tired out horses. I can’t keep up with you running. The only reason I have been able to keep up so far is because you haven’t stopped cursing since we crossed the river. I gotta tell you, sir, the shit you're saying in Swahili is pretty vile.”
“You speak Swahili?”
“Nah, but I know how to cuss in that language. There were a couple of blokes I served with from the 40th Rangers Strike Force who thought it was pretty funny to teach us how to behave in polite society.”
“You know what? That joke gets old pretty quick.”
Jaun snickered. “Until you do it to someone else.”
“You are one of the reasons this world has gone to complete shit, my friend.”
“And here I thought it was the fucking zombies and the Nazis.”
Allen shook his head. “You have a bad attitude, soldier. Time to go.”
“Captain, I need five more minutes and a liter of water.”
“I thought you special forces types were supposed to be able to run the Kiowa into the ground.”
“You know as well as I do the reason I was on liaison duties was the doctors had to rebuild my knee, which makes it hard to keep up with physical training.”
Allen looked Juan in the eyes and changed his tone. “How is your knee doing, Master Sergeant?”
“The knee is fine, Captain. It really is. The problem is I’m out of shape. I only got the green light to run for PT right before this fucking shit happened. I’ve been lifting weights and doing Yoga for the past eight months. Our food situation hasn't helped. I’m fucking gassed.” He emptied the water skin.
Zapata said, “If we go any slower, we’ll have the horses at a trot. That will shake our big ‘ol lump of farmer right out of the saddle.”
“Understood. I’ll be fine as long as I can rest a bit whenever we stop to make sure he’s not coming loose from the saddle. I got this jefé. I think that if I ride one kilometer out of three for the next fifteen, I’ll be able to rest enough that I can finish off the night with only the short breaks when we check on lumpy here.“
Juan continued. “That should keep your horse from getting too tired. And from what you told me about this pretty little bitch here, I don’t think I’m going to climb on her back just so I can get thrown off in half a kay. I don’t feel like getting a broken neck because I need some time in a saddle.”
Allen nodded. “I’m pretty sure she likes me and I sure as hell wouldn’t risk it. Juan, you are to inform me the instant you have any sort of pain in your knee. Do you copy that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Juan smiled wrathfully, “We are going to catch these motherfuckers. I’ve no fucking idea what we’re gonna do when we catch’em. Other then kill’em. Shit, the only weapons we have are pistols, carbines and bloody mindedness.”
“Bloody mindedness is how we do shit.”
"I wish we had some BOOM."
"You can take the boy out of the Special Forces, but you can't take the Special Forces out of the boy. How would some BOOM help us if we are fucking behind them?"
"I don't know. Give me some BOOM and I'll find a fucking way to use it."
Juan De La Cruz extended his left fist across his chest. Allen reached out with his right hand and bumped his fist. “We are going to kill these motherfuckers.”
“Fuckin’ A, Brother. Time to move out.”
“Your mum fancies me.”
Allen put his head in his hands.
“I’m going to fucking kill you when this is all over.
Juan laughed. “Would you really throw away a fifteen year working relationship over a woman?”
Allen snarled. “I hate you.”
Then he started laughing. “She really does like you, you fucking prat. Where on Earth did you learn to tango?”
“She taught me.”
“I hate you.”