The M.I.L.F. Man

Fire and brimstone

Three dudes wearing military gear yanked us out of that van before we had time to think, let alone grab a gun. And after they'd snatched Lonnie away from us, this gigantic guy with a bushy red beard bellowed, "Git to steppin'," and shoved Paul with the butt of his rifle so that we all kind of dominoed into each other.

We stumbled and sweated through some thick brush and spindly trees until we got to this little circle of old, rickety-looking storage sheds converted into makeshift houses and patched with plywood, tar paper, sheets of metal and mismatched planks of wood.

And there was a larger crazy quilt building pieced together with material they'd torn off other old, abandoned houses and barns and things. I saw rows of long, handmade looking tables inside, so I thought it might be some sort of communal kitchen.

A bunch of grim-faced, shoeless women and children came out of the larger building, gawking like they'd never seen any other human beings before. The women were dressed in sleeveless dresses that looked like they'd been made out of tablecloths. And they had long, lank, greasy hair like they hadn't washed in a while.

The little boys were wearing loose athletic shorts but no shirts. So you could see their ribs and way more insect bites and scrapes and bruises than your average rambunctious kid might have.

Big Beard barked at the women to get back inside. So they shooed all the kids into the bigger building while the gun guys yelled for us to sit down on the ground and put our hands on our heads.

And then Big Beard glared down at us and growled, "Got over there after patrol'n' everybody was layin' there pukin' and shittin' and crampin' up—what'd y'all do to them people?"

And when no one answered, he hit Colleen on the head with the butt of his rifle and said, "You women done the cookin'! What'd you put in that shit?"

But then one of the other guys barked, "Helo," and all the gun guys started grabbing and dragging and shoving all the others toward one of those little houses where one guy tossed Lonnie a gun and hissed, "You think you can handle 'em this time? Pussy?!"

Big Beard marched Chas and me into that bigger building where the women herded the kids toward the back away from us like we were contagious. But at the sound of two huge helicopters flying over, circling and then hovering right over us, they rushed the children over to one side of the room where there were a bunch of old, thin mattresses pushed together on the floor.

And then they flipped the mattresses out of the way, lifted some big pieces of plywood off the floor and shooed the children into whatever was down there before laying the plywood and mattresses back down and huddling up together on the mattresses, shivering like scared puppies.

And that's when we heard the damned fools outside shooting up at those helicopters from whatever they'd ducked behind.

Chas shoved me into a rear corner, flipped one of those handmade picnic tables over and pushed it in front of me before running to do the same thing for the women on those mattresses.

One of them actually leapt up to help him while the rest sat there all owl eyed and fidgety. And then the gun guys dove through the front door and laid down on either side of it, rifles readied.

An amplified male voice called out, "We can end this without bloodshed, all right? Think about the women and children, man. They're innocent bystanders. Just send them and those students one at a time! Hands on heads as you exit, guys!"

There was silence for a little while after that. But then Lonnie and the students in the other sheds went racing toward the cops and Border Patrol and soldiers who hustled them into those vehicles.

"Fuckin' traitor," one of the gun guys growled, leaning down to aim his weapon like he really meant business now.

And when Big Beard yelled, "You missed a couple! And they're goin' with us," some of the women started whimpering and ducking down.

"Thought it was all talk, huh?" Big Beard bellowed. "Well, this ain't no drill, ladies! This is the day we've been waiting for!"

And when he rolled over and fired at the first of a bunch of paint cans hung up in the corners of the ceiling, there was a huge explosion that blew one wall into splinters and set the whole building ablaze.

I must've been blown clear—I still don't remember how I got outside. But as someone dragged me away from the smoke and flames and flying debris I tried to kick and scratch my way out of their arms.

Because my Chas was in that building as far as I knew. So I kept fighting until I heard Colleen yell, "Look! Over there! He's over there!"

He was sitting on the ground with one tiny little girl on his lap and another one on his back with her arms around his neck. He'd thrown flaming beams and debris off those holes in the ground and mama ducked those kids through the fire under a mattress.

There'd be pictures on the news of him and one of those mothers scrambling back into and then out of the fire with everybody rushing around yelling at them that there might still be booby traps or something in there.

He was all sooty and tattered and blood streaked. But when I went limping his way he got up and hobbled toward me until his knees buckled and he just dropped to the ground and laid there struggling to breathe.

I dropped to my knees, leaned over and kept saying, "Papi? Papi?"

And when I went to touch his face I saw that the hand I'd rubbed his side with was covered with blood. So I yanked his shirt up and found this big red gash that bubbled and oozed as he gasped for air.

And then I couldn't breathe.