WEDNESDAY AM

Always something. Wednesday morning. The call came at three thirty.

“Rocky, what the hey, sorry for the hour of my call.”

“Oh, I know,” Rocky yawned, “Cruz is out of toilet paper.”

“Noooo, it’s worse that that. El Camioneros Muertos have stolen some goods.”

“The gang that calls themselves the Dead Truckers?”

“They don’t just call themselves that. They are dead.”

“Where are you?” asked Rocky.

“Tuna Club, my place of business, where I watch my money.”

“Okay see you in an hour.” Rocky was a disabled Marine who had become a hitter for the CIA and some Mexican cartels. Captain Roberto Cruz ran the Mexicali cartel. Rocky was the go-to guy for his problems

 

Rocky and Hector drove on Mexico Highway 2, they were heading in the direction of Tijuana. They climbed the Rumorosa Mountains on what locals called The Whispering Highway.

“Where we going?” asked Rocky.

“It’s not far ahead.” Hector nodded.

Rocky slowed at a small village.

“Take the dirt road,” Hector suggested.

Rocky pulled off the highway and followed a rutted trail that wound up a mountain. Hector gestured, “Keep going.”

A stonewall built into the side of the mountain appeared. “Here we are, Rock.” In the wall was a large door with a human sized access in the lower left side. They pulled up to the entry and parked to the side of it. The huge entrance was large enough for an eighteen-wheeler Diesel truck.

“Who built this place,” Rocky asked.

“When we get out you’ll see,” said Hector.

Rocky stepped out and closed the truck’s door. He walked and crunched on human bones.

“This building killed them,” Hector mumbled, humbled by the surroundings. But they were already dead before they started.”

“This is worse than Afghanistan.”

“These people were born to die here.” Hector shook his head.

“We need to get inside,” said Rocky.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“What kind of vehicle did they take?” Rocky asked.

“A Humvee.”

“Better check my loads.” He pulled out his pistol and opened the cylinder.

“Why?” Asked Hector. “These guys are already dead.”

Behind the door they heard a Diesel start with a low staggering growl that turned into a roar.

“Sounds like there is some life in there,” Rocky growled.

“That Diesel is alive, but the driver is dead.” Hector hissed.

And they entered the unlocked door.