41. This One Doesn't Work

The next man up saw Ervey's reaction to the interrogators' notebook and hesitated.

"Didn't you hear? Move!" ordered the two the interrogators at once.

Several of the guards idling on the pickup took notice of the interruption and stood up. They looked at the man and then followed his line of sight and focused on Ervey. The guards did the same.

"What? You with this güey? You too from El Mulato?" one of the interrogators asked, pointing to Ervey.

The man siad nothing and stepped in front of the impromptu bench. He was a tall middle-aged man. Well-groomed. Pressed sport shirt and city pants and shoes. His manner bespoke somebody who was used to being the boss, and he was clearly struggling with accepting a lesser role in life.

"Or you answer our questions or it's bad luck for you," he was admonished.

"Conrado Sanchez, from Chihuahua, headed back to Chihuahua after a trip to Midland, Texas. It's my truck. The papers are in the glove compartment along with the visa I got from the Americans," he said anticipating their questions.

"That's not what you were asked, stupid," one of the guards spoke up, clutching his rifle.

"Sorry. I thought you wanted to know this other information. What was your question again? And how is it that you have us all here. What's your authority? You police or army?" Sanchez said.

"Our authority is that we can sent you to hell. But never mind. We have enough information on you," one of the interrogators said, "escort, here's one that doesn't work. Fix him!"

The entire squad of guards stood up and emptied onto the ground around the Sanchez, who towered a full head above them. The last guard to scramble off the truck, a dark heavyset man with a crewcut showing under his cap, waded through the crowd and grabbed Sanchez by the hair on the back of his head and waved at the men standing behind the gate on the other end of the corral. Sanchez leaded backwards, clearly in pain. The corral gate swung open and a stream of heavily-armed men rushed into the corral, some coming up to Sanchez and others stopping along the way to face down the captives lining the corral. Sanchez emerged from the crowd bent over with two short men in black athletic shoes pulling him by his hair. Sanchez waddled awkwardly across corral grounds trying to keep up with his captors as best he could, but he soon stumbled and fell on his hands and knees. His two minders almost went down with him, but they released their grip at the last instant and stood back. One of the men let fly a full soccer kick to Sanchez' ribs. The impact caused a large thud and knocked Sanchez over on his back. The two men then reached down and grabbed him by the hair again. Sanchez got up from the spongy ground on his hands and knees and gasped for air through clumps of mud that had formed around his mouth and nose. The two men tugged harder at this hair, and Sanchez tried to get up on his feet, but fell down again. This time he went down listlessly and landed on his face without even putting his hand out to break his fall. The two smaller men holding his hair bumped into each other and dropped their rifles to find their balance and keep from hitting the ground themselves. Still holding on to Sanchez' hair, they waited a few seconds to recover and reposition themselves. Meanwhile they picked up their rifles and shook them free of dirt, cursing angrily at Sanchez for the trouble he was causing them. Then they heaved again and raised their prey. Sanchez stood up on his feet unsteadily, and the three started to move forward again. Their pace quickly accelerated, but several paces later, Sanchez stumbled again and fell on his knees. His two captors were slow to react, causing Sanchez to tip over on his face into the ground. He quickly put his arms out to get his face out of the dirt, but the two hands pulling him forward prevented him from steadying himself. Instinctively he tugged at one of his holder's fist with one hand while trying to pivot on the other. The man immediately let go, and Sanchez put both hand down on the ground and haunched. The other man kept his grip on Sanchez, handed his rifle to his partner, and pulled out a square-looking handgun and pressed it on Sanchez face without letting go of his hair. Not a second later, a halo of light flashed around Sanchez' head followed by a loud clapping noise and a splash of dust rising up from the ground a couple of meters away. Sanchez rocked forward and flopped on his hands and knees. The shooter loosed his hold and put his gun back into a holster he wore inside the back of his pants. He then grabbed Sanchez from his collar and belt and stood him up and walked him past the gate out of the corral. His partner followed, holding both rifles and motioning everybody in front of them to clear the way for them. Sanchez kept stepping, back straight and both arms winging listlessly by his sides.

The ordeal took several long minutes to run its course. Everybody, captors as well as captives, stood motionless and in silence watching. When Sanchez was out of sight and the gate closed again, a murmur rose up in the corral. Some of the captives stepped out of line to catch a last glimpse of Sanchez. The guards seemed to finally see the commotion around them and leveled their rifles.

"Silence!" one of them yelled, "get back to the rails!"

Order was quickly restored.

Ervey looked around and quickly saw that Lilo was standing next to him in Sanchez' former spot.

"Listen, güey. Only saying this once," Lilo whispered, pausing to see if anybody was watching them, "we have to work together and with the other Mulateños in the crowd."

"What? Which ones?" said Ervey, surprised.

"Two. One by the gate and another further up the line where I was standing," Lilo whispered even softer, "I'll point them out later when I can. Just pay attention."