The Acid Test by Elmer Mendoza

Author:Elmer Mendoza [Mendoza, Élmer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus

Twenty-One

Richie Bernal was behind the wheel. He and two of his sidekicks were parked near the entrance to Sinaloa State H.S. 25, corridos blaring on the radio, waiting for a babe they had spotted that morning. He wanted to declare his love for her, take her for a spin, and if she showed any openings let her tumble. What a lover-boy you turned out to be, you don’t even leave one to be the godmother. The chick was cute, wasn’t she? Being a bit older than Richie, the gunslingers did their best to follow his drift: She is whatever she may be, but the fact is the love of your life just died. Any nail will pull out a tack, my man Rafa, what can you do? and there are only two kinds of women: those that fuck and those that are dead. They smoked. From their spot on Los Alamos Boulevard they could see part of La Campiña Park and a few power-walkers sweating heavily. Other pickups and luxury cars were also waiting for the bell. Girls wearing short skirts began trickling out of the building and heading noisily off with their admirers. Hey, Grunt, are you sure she gets out at ten? That’s what she said. You are such an idiot; Rafa, go see if it’s true. It’s five of, boss, don’t you want to wait? No I don’t, go in and tell her to give her teachers the finger, I’ll do her homework for her; no, both you assholes go, see if the two of you together makes at least one, and do it right now, I’m telling you, then follow me in the other pickup and don’t mess it up; if I take her to a hotel you wait outside, nothing’s going to happen to me.

The bodyguards got out on the passenger side at the very moment a Ford pulled up and three hitmen opened fire with their A.K.-47s. Rafa, in a macabre dance, fell face-first next to the heavy door, which he did not manage to close. The thirty holes in Grunt would stop spouting blood soon enough. Three students fell dead and two more girls were badly wounded. Everybody nearby swallowed hard. Richie’s mother came to mind, and the river in his village, the thought that he was too young to. He felt like he was peeing, knew that nothing was as it should be, remembered he was a lousy shot. Meanwhile, more bullets shattered the half-inch windows and burrowed into the armour-plating. He turned the ignition, accelerated; the door swung wide and he drove off leaving behind screams of terror, wailing teenagers taking cover wherever they could, and the roar of the suitors’ vehicles clearing out. The attackers drove calmly around the park, no-one paying them any attention. The walkers had vanished.

Richie headed towards Comercial Mexicana with his pistol in his lap. He saw they were not following, screeched to a stop, reached over, and shut the armoured door, then he turned off the stereo.

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