She of the Jade Skirt

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

<Mar 1973 - Somewhere in Mexico>

The quarter moon was hidden behind thick clouds that blocked what little light it might provide and the local air temp was a pleasant 72 Fahrenheit with low humidity. Compared to the jungles of Vietnam, it was a pleasant change for the eight men dressed in camouflage uniforms and sporting dark green face paint as they ghosted through the forest that led to their rendezvous.  Their op plan called for them to meet their DEA contact at the ruins of an ancient Aztec temple that was only a mile from their area of operations.  

He was supposed to give the team the current location of their target, a local drug lord that lead the smuggling operation that sent millions of dollars worth of heroin into the United States annually. Heroin as a drug that the members of the team were all too familiar with as it was a drug that was a big problem for some of their fellow soldiers in Vietnam.

As takedowns go, this should be one of the team’s easier missions. There were no VC or NVA patrols to dodge, but it was complicated by the rival drug lords who wanted to take control of his lucrative business. As a result, their target feared for his safety and to make it more difficult for his competitors to take over his business, he would randomly spend the night in one of the five different homes that he owned.  Their contact was to give the team his current location so that they could eliminate the drug lord and send a message to his rivals.  

The message being, that there were people much more dangerous than them and sending drugs to the United States wasn’t a good long term plan.  There were also rumors that the drug lord was working with the Soviets. So, their secondary mission objective was to gather any intel that they might find.

There was a narrow trail that led to their rendezvous point, but they didn’t take it. Instead, they all followed 30 feet behind their point man with each of the remaining team members maintaining 10 feet of separation between themselves as they silently stalked beside the trail and about 10 feet off to the side of it. Even though there were no VC in Mexico, they were far too experienced with booby traps to feel comfortable with taking the easy path.  Plus, the jungle here wasn’t as thick as what they were used to, so even without using the trail, they still made good time while not making any noise.

While not visible to the naked eye with all the undergrowth, the terrain beneath their feet changed. It became more regular, as if the area had once been worked by man.  That barely perceptible change sent  their point man's instincts into overdrive. He dropped to a knee and signaled a halt. Every man behind him dispersed, fanning out to the left and the right to make themselves harder targets and to allow them to lend each other supporting fire in the case of an ambush.

Their team leader crept silently to his point man’s side while the rest of the team kept silent watch to their flanks. The point man pantomimed smoking a cigarette before he pointed out two features that looked like a good position to mount a machine gun.  The trail, if they had been taking the trail, led right in between the two locations.  The tip of the barrel of a heavy machine gun stuck out from behind a break in what appeared to be some ancient man-made stone work.  The barrel would have been invisible if not for the fact that whoever was behind the weapon was dumb enough to smoke a cigarette.  The glow of the burning cigarette had been more than enough to draw the alert eye of the point man.  An added benefit for the team, was the fact that the cigarette smoker’s night vision would be shot.  Thus making what they needed to do easier.

The addition of two machine guns set up to cover the trail was not in the op plan.  Their contact was supposed to be alone.  The presence of an ambush indicated that someone had screwed up.  The team leader signaled for one of his men to come forward. Then, he pointed to the left gun emplacement to that man, then tapped his point man’s shoulder and pointed to the right gun emplacement. They nodded their acceptance, moved forward and melted into the jungle.

The team leader gave them each five minutes to take out the gun emplacements before he motioned for the remaining team members to move forward.  Their point man and the second man were waiting for them just inside ancient stonework that marked the entrance to the area.  They each held up two fingers, and then made a slashing motion across their throats to indicate that two men were killed in each position.

The two men then signaled that an additional four targets had been spotted and that they were roving patrols.  All but one of those rovers were smoking, which made their team leader smile since that sloppy discipline would make it easier for them.  Their mission was no longer to eliminate the drug lord. Now their mission, if possible, was to find out what happened to their DEA contact. Then, evac back to the U.S. Navy sub that was resting silently off the coast  waiting for the team to return.

The team leader silently signaled for the point man plus three others to work their way around the sentries while he and the remaining three would take out the sentries.  Once the sentries were engaged, the hasty op plan was for the advance team to service any targets that they found since even suppressor equipped rifles were not 100% silent in this kind of environment.

The point man followed by three of his teammates silently worked their way past the roving sentries.  As sloppy as the sentries were, it looked like the entire team could have ghosted past them, but it would be bad form to leave them in the rear where they could cause trouble later.

They quickly spotted both their target and their contact in the center of the ruins.  That made the point man and his teammates show the first sign that they had emotions.  They smiled at the spectacle below them as their target made their jobs even easier by coming in person to what was supposed to just be a rendezvous site.  The only tricky part was the addition of four more guards, each holding a submachine gun in their hands and at the ready. They would all have to be taken down by a single shot, and then one of them would need to shift to their primary target before he could react. The range was less than 50 meters, so they felt confident that they could achieve their objectives. They were further helped in that objective by the target himself. He had the rendezvous point well lit with a few gas camp lanterns set up on the ground to help them see.  That would cost them dearly.

Their DEA contact was lying on the ground. He looked a little worse for wear. He had been worked over pretty good. Resting against an old stone table, their target lazily held a garish nickel plated .45 pistol.

“Please Senor Rodriguez; I know nothing about who they are sending to meet with me. I was only supposed to give them the info on your shipment routes.  That is all I know.” The DEA agent’s voice echoed off the stone walls.  He knew more than that, but it was obvious that he had held out under direct questioning for a long time.

“Is it?” The Drug Lord asked as he raised his weapon, aiming it at the DEA agent.

The point man’s team heard the distinctive sound of four suppressor equipped weapons firing nearly simultaneously. They used that as their signal to fire on their targets just as the drug lord and his men started to react.

“What was...” One of the drug lord’s guards started to ask.

Their first four shots came as close together in time as the other team’s first shots, but unlike the first team, they didn’t need to use suppressors on their weapons.  Three of the guards dropped immediately with part of their heads missing.  The fourth guard reflexively fired a few shots from his weapon as his throat was torn away. The primary target reeled as he reacted a tick faster than his shooter expected.  The shot that was meant for his head only grazed him across his forehead. Momentarily dazed, he fell back, against the raised stone table as he tried to raise his weapon.

“Holy fucking shit!” The DEA agent yelled as he pushed himself backwards. His hard soled shoes scrambled to find traction on the ancient stone courtyard until his desperate retreat was halted when he slammed his back into a low stone wall that enclosed the courtyard. It was then that he saw the point man, with a blackened blade in hand, seemingly materialize from thin air.

The man was huge. At least 6’ tall and built like an NFL football player. How a man that large could move so quickly and silently was a mystery to the DEA agent. He watched in stunned disbelief as the man’s blade caught the drug lord completely unaware. The drug lord’s eyes bulged in shock. His mouth gaped open as he tried to scream, but not a sound came out.  The man twisted his knife in the drug lord’s back and the drug lord’s legs started to collapse. Next, he casually pulled the drug lord back and onto the altar. An efficient twist of his blade and he eased the drug lord back on the table, waited a few seconds and withdrew his knife.

The light in the drug lord’s eyes faded as his blood trickled from the wound in his back. The point man idly noted that there appeared to be channels built into the table, but he was not sure why someone would have channels built into a table. Regardless, the blood slowly draining from the drug lord’s back wasn’t enough to do more than show him that there were channels. That was one of the reasons why he liked the knife in the back; the target’s muscles usually closed the wound enough to prevent making a mess on his uniform. He calmly wiped his knife blade clean on the drug lord’s expensive looking pant legs.

The team leader surprised the DEA agent again when he spoke from  his side. “Sir, are you injured?”

“Ahh! Who are you?” The DEA Agent asked, flinching away from the team leader.

“Sorry sir. I need to confirm that he was Senor Antonio Rodriguez.” The team leader asked as he gestured to the dead man lying on the stone table.

“Y-yes. That was him.  He must have had me followed.” The DEA agent said, sounding a bit ashamed of himself, while stating the obvious. “His briefcase is over there, with his lieutenant's body.”

The team leader gestured at the briefcase and another of his men seemingly materialized from the darkness and retrieved it.

“Hey, Wolfman.  What the fuck is this?” One of the men asked as he walked over and inspected the table.

Wolfman shrugged his shoulders. “Beats the fuck outta me, Mongoose. It looks like a table to me.”

“That is the sacrificial altar of the Aztec goddess Chalchiuhtlicue. She was the goddess of love, beauty and the ocean. Well, all water actually.” The DEA Agent said, regaining some of his composure as Wolfman and Mongoose turned to listen to his explanation.

Mongoose turned back to look at the altar with a whistle. “Nice one Wolfman. I hope that this goddess Chalchi-something likes your offering. I didn’t realize that you were so religious.”

The DEA Agent coughed. “Well, for it to actually be counted as a sacrifice, umm, Wolfman would have had to also rip out and offer the late Senor Rodriguez’s heart too. Plus, there isn’t enough blood to fill the channels.”  He pointed out the channels and showed the two men how the channels were designed to divert blood to a small basin built into the bottom of the altar.

“Wow, talk about some sick shit.” Mongoose said as Wolfman studied the channels with a critical eye.

“They typically only did that to convicted criminals or prisoners of war.  They believed that taking their hearts during the sacrifice would allow them to steal their enemies’ strength.”

“Yeah, you can bet that they never followed the fucking Geneva Conventions back then, not like we have had much luck with those either. Fucking VC.”

“Well, the world is golden now. ‘Nam is officially over with and our ‘esteemed’ leaders told everyone that we won, right?” Wolfman said with a smirk as he calmly used the razor sharp tip of his knife to slice open the top of the drug lord’s suit, exposing the skin of his right shoulder.  Then, with the barest of pauses, he stabbed his knife three inches into the drug lord’s right shoulder, just behind his collar bone, he twisted the knife once to the right then back to the left before removing his blade.

The drug lord’s blood started to rapidly drain from the wound and fill the channels; allowing his blood to slowly, but steadily drip into the altar’s sacrificial basin. Satisfied with the results, Wolfman calmly wiped his blade clean and stowed it in its sheath.

The DEA Agent looked at the wound, then back to Wolfman. “That is a lot of blood, but why didn’t you slice into his jugular?”

Wolfman glance down with clinical indifference. “Because those veins are protected by more muscle than the axillary artery and the subclavian veins. Plus, the jugular is smaller than the ones in the shoulder.  I figured that this goddess would want more blood, right?”

Mongoose chuckled and slapped Wolfman on his back. “Wolf, yer one funny guy!  Are you sure we picked the right team name for you. Joker might have been better, ya know?”

“Okay you two clowns, can it. Nice work Wolfman. Time to didee mau.” The team leader said before he turned back to the DEA agent. “Sir, are you going to be okay?”

“Sure, I just have a few things back in town to tidy up, and then I can get back to the real world.” The DEA agent said with a smile of appreciation.

The team leader nodded and the eight men disappeared back into the forest as silently as they came, leaving the dead as the only evidence that they were ever there.  Not even a spent shell casing was left behind to provide anyone evidence of their presence in this country.  For the Mexican Federales that found the bodies the next day, it looked like the drug lord and his men had died from vengeful ghosts. The blood drained body of the drug lord resting on the altar of Chalchiuhtlicue coupled with the lack of blood in the altar’s sacrificial basin served to reinforce that superstitious perception among the locals.
 

<April 7th 2012 - Salina Cruz - Mexico>

OMG! I can’t believe that we are finally here! It is the first full day of our va-cay and my ‘rents are sleeping still.  What is it about old people?  It’s 7AM, the sun is shining and I can practically taste the ocean and beach from the fresh air coming in through the open windows of our cottage.  Why aren’t they awake yet?  I tried to make just the right amount of noise to ‘accidentally’ wake them up as I dug through my suitcase to find my new bikini, but that didn’t work.  It’s not like they drove all night to get us here.  We took a plane from San Diego to Acapulco, then a boring 6 hour bus ride from the place I wanted to va-cay in to old person central, Salina Cruz.

“Seriously, old people can be so lazy sometimes.” I muttered, frustrated as I glanced back at my ‘rents.

I would just go to the beach by myself. I am 12, almost 13. I should be able to go by myself now, but nooo, my parents would have a cow if they woke up and I wasn’t here.  Sigh. If only we were in Acapulco instead of here, I could sit on the beach and scope out all the hawt college boys and their tight abs. There probably won’t be any of that kind of boys here. Just old people in speedo’s who are far too old and fat to be wearing speedo’s.  There should be a law against that or something!

I glanced down at my new jade green two piece and pushed up my boobs. If only they would grow faster!  I am glad that they are growing, but A cups are just so not cool.  Zoey, my BFF, is a B cup already. It’s not fair. My mom is a C cup, so I do have some hope that I would end up like her up there too. I would put some breast forms in there, but my dad would freak. I do have to admit that I look pretty good in my bikini and sadly, I think that is probably why my mom and dad decided to take us to Salina Snooze instead of Acapulco.

I decided to root through my suitcase to find the breast forms that I snuck in there and maybe make some more ‘accidental’ noise. I hopefully paused my search when the ‘rents shifted in their sleep.  Bummer...they didn’t wake up.  Oh well, I will just have to go into the bathroom and see how the breast forms will make me look.

I closed the door and this time, I really did accidentally close it a bit too hard and made more noise than I intended to make.  I did not want my ‘rents to see me stuffing my bikini top!  The breast forms fit in there nicely and make me look like I was a B cup, maybe even a small C cup.  Wow, if only I could get away with wearing my suit like this, but no, I am still Daddy’s little girl and little girls don’t stuff their bras and parade around half naked for all the boys to drool over.

I spun around to check out my butt on the mirror. Oh yeah, my bikini fits perfectly and I am glad that I grew a few inches over the winter.  Now that I am 5’ 6” and one of the taller girls in my class, I get a lot more attention from all the boys. It’s so nice, but I wish that that annoying bully, Jason Thompson, would stop picking on me.  Seriously, if he calls me fat and tries to stick gum in my hair one more time, I will punch him in his face, or something. I dunno. He is pretty big. Sometimes, I wish that I taken that karate class like my dad wanted me to take instead of dance.

Besides, I am not fat!  I am 115 lbs and since my growth spurt, I don’t have an ounce of fat on me.  Dance all year, plus the start of soccer season has seen to that.  Yep, I have to admit, my legs are nice.  I wish that I had been able to talk my mom into letting me buy those four inch heels that I saw when we were shopping for my bikini.  They felt so awesome and I didn’t have any problems walking in them, but even my mom is getting all uber protective of me saying something about, little girls don’t wear four inch heels. I am not a little girl anymore!

I have my mom’s beautiful and long, raven black hair that comes down to the middle of my back and my dad’s hazel eyes, matched with my mom’s heart shaped face and cupid bow lips, but I have my grandma’s pert nose and dimples.  Yep, I think I am pretty darn cute. I want to be a model when I grow up, but I have a small scar on my right hamstring from when I crashed my bike when I was 9.  It is mostly gone now, so I hope that it is all gone by the time that I am 16 and old enough to try modeling.  That is, if I grow a few more inches. My mom is 5’ 11” and my dad is 6’ 2”, so I pray to god that I will be at least as tall as my mom before I finish growing.

Oh well, if not, I also wouldn’t mind being a veterinarian either.  I love animals, but I wish that my mom wasn’t allergic to cats. I am just glad that I am not.  A dog would be nice, but my ‘rents think that they are too much work. I promised that I would take care of it, but I don’t think they believed me.

I did look a lot like my mom and even though my mom was 32, and really old, she still gets asked if she is my older sister when we are out together.  I wish I had a sister. Even a brother would be nice, but Zoey has a brother and man is Mark a pest sometimes.  He always makes fun of us when we hang out and work on our makeup and fashion skills. I am still mad at him for tying one of my Barbies to his water rocket and launching her into “space”.  He claimed that he was just doing it so that she could be the first woman astronaut in their backyard space, but he ruined her outfit when the rocket landed in their neighbor’s yard and my Barbie got chewed on by the neighbors’ dog, Barney, before we could get it away from him.

I was just very glad that this week wasn’t that time of the month for me. I just started having those things three months ago. It was kind of scary and cool, but also gross at the same time. Why can’t boys have periods too?  Then, they might not make so many jokes about girls taking longer in the bathroom or being mean and saying that a girl was on the rag just because she was in a bad mood. Yeah, I would like to see them try to jam a tampon up their you know whats and see how chipper they feel. Boys are so lucky and if I hear one more boy try to tell me that not-funny joke about not trusting something that bleeds for a week but doesn’t die, I think that I will scream! Why do some boys have to be so dumb, yet so cute at the same time?

So, my dad is a doctor, but not a medical doctor. He’s not Quincy MD, whoever he is. I dunno, but my dad likes to make that joke sometimes. Oh well, I didn’t say he was the funniest dad, but he is still the coolest.  He is a chemist and gets to work in a lab where he is helping to find the cure for cancer.  He works long hours though, so sometimes it is hard to have fun with him. I still love it when he takes me to the amusement park and takes me on the roller coasters.

My mom is great too, though. She has a degree in finance, or something, and works at an investment firm managing other people’s money.  Last year, she made more money than my dad, but instead of getting all jealous about it, my dad joked about how he could now retire and become a stay at home Dad.  I liked the idea, but Mom was not amused.

I took one last look of my profile in the mirror with the breast forms, and then reluctantly, I removed them. I peeked out of the door and my ‘rents were still peacefully sleeping.  Seriously!  Va-cays are not meant for sleeping people!

Grrr! And the weather was so nice right now.  The forecast for today and almost every day this week was for sunny and highs in the low to upper 80’s. Perfect weather for me to return home with a tan that would make Zoey totally jealous.  I tried one more time to ‘accidentally’ wake them up by rooting through my suitcase as I tucked my breast forms under some clothes, then I grabbed some shorts and a top to wear over my bikini.  

I tried plopping down on my bed to make more accidental noise, but the bed was too soft for that.  Dang it.  I decided to just read some more of my “Twilight” book, again. I have only read it four and a half times now. It is just so good and Edward is so dreamy. Why can’t vampires be real?

“Melody sweetie, you reading your book again?” My mom asked, softly.

“Mom! You’re awake!” I said, more than loud enough to make sure that she stayed that way as I slammed by book closed. I glanced over at the room’s clock and was surprised to discover that an hour had already gone by. “Morning Mom. When can we go to the beach?”

“Hehe, not so fast my little marsh-mellow.” My dad said as he rolled over and hugged my mom in a mushy display of affection.

“Daaad! I am not a ‘marsh-mellow!” I said, pouting for all of two seconds before I couldn’t contain my giggles.  I just loved it when he called me by my secret name. It made me feel so, frustrated and loved. Did I mention that my dad is cool?

They both laughed, teasing me as they extracted themselves from their bed.

“Can we go to the beach? I’m not hungry, please, please, please?” I asked, pleading for them to let me do something that I knew that they wouldn’t let me do. Maybe they weren’t awake enough yet to realize that.

“Melody Amber Lynch!” My mom said with mock anger before she laughed and gave me a hug.
“Sorry sweetie, I know that you can’t wait and that you have probably been up for an hour or two already, but you know the routine. Your dad and I need to take our showers, then we will all go and eat breakfast, together and as a family.”

“Okkkaay.” I said as I opened her book and searched for my place so I could read some more while I waited for the slow pokes to get ready.

Breakfast was interesting. The resort had the usual popular American breakfast items, but they also had some traditional Mexican breakfast dishes . Following breakfast, I was forced to walk around and explore the resort with them for another 45 minutes before they would let me go down to the beach.

“Don’t want you to get cramps if you go into the water, sweetie.” My mom said when she noticed my expression.

“But Mooom, I’m not going in the water, that is just an old wive’s tale and you’re not really an old wife, are you?” I asked as I tried not to laugh at her shocked expression.

“Stinker!” My mom said as she made a face at me.

I thought she might have a bout of temporary insanity and let me go.

“No.” She said.
Fine!” I said, sighing with frustration and crossing my arms over my chest.  The resort was kind of nice though.  They had a dock and we could check out jet-skis to ride for 200 pesos for 30 minutes, which sounds like a lot of money, but it was only $15.

By the time they finally let me onto the beach, I was so bored that I could only sunbathe for 20 minutes with my mom before I had to ask my dad if he could take me out on a jet ski.  The jet ski was fun and it was even more fun when my dad let me drive it all by myself.  I loved going back and forth really really fast and jumping over the small waves that I made. It was even better when a bigger boat would go past and make a big wave for me to jump over. I just wished that this beach was more like home.  There were almost no waves because the beach was in a small bay and none of the big waves reached inside. I really was looking forward to doing some body surfing.

After lunch, we returned to the beach and this time I decided to hang out with my mom while my dad played on the jet-ski. I was watching him and sort of regretting my choice.

“Honey, I am going to go the bar over there and grab myself a drink. Do you need anything?” My mom asked, snapping me out of my jealous gaze. As I started to look over at my mom, I spotted a cute boy walking down the beach.  He had the tightest abs and he reminded me of the dude who played Jacob.  Maybe I could join Team Jacob instead of Team Edward?

“Melody?” My mom asked, snapping me out of my daze.

“Umm, sure? A coke?” I asked, blushing as she caught the reason for my distraction.

Thankfully, my mom just laughed as she walked away so that I could study my Team Jacob dude a little more.  He turned to look at me and at first, I thought it was because he spotted me drooling over him, but why did he look surprised and maybe a little bit scared too?  

I found out when someone roughly grabbed me and before I could do more than yelp with surprise, I felt a nasty rag over my nose and mouth as I was lifted out of my beach chair by three or four dudes.  The rag smelled horrible and I tried to hold my breath, but I couldn’t because I needed to scream. I thought that I heard my mom scream my name, but she seemed so far away. It sounded like she was screaming my name from a very long tunnel.  Then, I felt myself being tossed on the floor of a van or something and everything went black.
 

Michelle Lynch reached the beachside bar and was about to order her drink, as well as Melody’s drink. Plus, maybe a drink for husband, Tom, when she heard some people screaming with panic from behind her.

As Michelle turned, couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  A group of men wearing black ski masks and holding machine guns were kidnapping her daughter in broad daylight and in front of hundreds of witnesses.

“MELODY!” She screamed as she started running toward her daughter’s attackers without any regard for her safety.

Michelle was in pretty good shape and even ran a few miles every week as part of her training program, but she wasn’t fast enough.  The kidnappers had her daughter’s slowly struggling body loaded into the back of a plain white van and peeling away just as she reached the road.  In desperation, she tried to run after the van, ignoring the sharp stones on her bare feet, but she was unable to catch it. She slowed, and then collapsed in the middle of the road sobbing as the van turned a corner and disappeared from her sight.

The Mexican Federales arrived in force very quickly and initially, the sight of the heavily armed men reassured her and her husband, but the police captain didn’t sound like he was very optimistic that they would find their daughter.

“I am sorry, Senor and Senorita Lynch. My men will look for your daughter for as long as it takes, but in these cases, it is very rare that we will find the missing girl.” Captain Martinez said.

“What? Why?” Michelle asked, hardly believing what the police Captain was telling them.  It sounded like he had already given up on finding their daughter and she had only been missing for less than an hour now.  Couldn’t they use a helicopter to spot and track the van?

“Because, these men are good at what they do.  A rich drug lord or one of his lieutenants must have spotted your daughter and decided that she would belong to him. By now, your daughter could be almost anywhere in Mexico and even worse, no one will be willing to risk their lives by trying to help us find her either.” Captain Martinez said, helplessly.

Both Tom and Michelle pleaded with the Captain to do more, but in the end, he shrugged his shoulders as an apology and left them on their own.  From their room, Tom immediately called the American Embassy to report the kidnapping of their daughter.  They remained in their room with the hopes that someone would call to notify them that their daughter had been found and that this nightmare was just a college prank gone wrong.

Their hopes took a blow when the American Embassy returned their call and apologized that there wasn’t more that they could do except offer to notify the DEA and DHS to keep an eye out for their daughter.

Night fell on the Lynch’s first family vacation with Melody’s dad protectively hugging his sobbing wife to his chest as he blamed himself for their daughter’s kidnapping.

“If only I had been there with them. I could have stopped them.”

He tried to fool himself into thinking that, but he wasn’t a trained martial artist and he wasn’t bullet proof either.  There was probably nothing that he could have done to stop them, but he damn sure would have tried.

The ringing of the room’s phone snapped both him and Michelle to full alertness. Tom lunged for the phone. “Hello! Has anyone heard anything?” Tom anxiously asked before the caller could even identify themselves.

“Greetings, Senor Lynch.” A man’s voice said with smallest hint of a Spanish accent.  “I am sorry that I am unwilling to identify myself to you, but I have some information regarding your lovely daughter. Melody I believe her name is, no?”

“What? What do you know?” Tom desperately asked as Michelle’s eyes began to show signs of hope.

“There is a bar, just outside of town on the north road called El Toro’s. In one hour and do not call the police. Come alone and do not bring your wife. She will only complicate what should be an understanding between two men. If you do call the police, I will know and I will not be there and you will never find your daughter, understand?”  The man said with a hint of steel in his voice.

Tom had no choice. He had to find Melody and this was their only hope. “Yes, yes, I understand and I will be there.” He said with a guilty glance at Michelle as he slowly hung up the phone.  She was not going to be happy, but it was the only option that they had.

He was right. Michelle was not happy, but in the end, she reluctantly agreed. “But what if they take you too?” She asked.

Tom couldn’t really think of a good answer for that. “I don’t know Michelle, but what else can we do?  This man claims that he knows where she is and we have to take the chance if it means that we might get Melody back!”

Tom dressed in his casual dress clothes. He didn’t want to appear too poor or too rich if this was a ransom demand.  He took his wallet and as much cash as they had, plus his checkbook. Not that he expected to gain his daughter’s freedom so cheaply or that they would even accept a check.  That absurd thought brought the ghost of a smile to his lips as he anxiously waited for the town’s taxi in front of the hotel.

The man waiting for him at the cantina was young. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, dressed in an expensive, but casual suit and flanked by two mountains with prominent bulges in their suit coats that could only mean one thing.  They were armed and they didn’t care if people knew that.

“Ahh, Senor Lynch! A pleasure to meet you! Come, come, sit! Why don’t you join me?  The tequila here is quite good.” The man said with an amused smile.

Tom was not sure what to do.  This man was obviously expecting him, but Tom was not expecting to meet someone who so obviously looked like the stereotypical Mexican drug lord. For all he knew, this man could actually be the person responsible for his daughter’s kidnapping.  “Okay...” Tom said as he hesitantly sat down in the offered chair.

“Now, Senor Lynch, it has come to my attention that your lovely daughter Melody has been kidnapped by a ruthless band of criminals. Such a tragedy, no?”

Tom’s anger almost boiled over.  This man was fucking with him, but he managed to contain it because venting his anger would not help his daughter.  “What do you want?”

“Ahh, I see there is no point in pretending with you, plus, it is such a tiring game anyway.  Your daughter is safe, at the moment, but for her to remain that way; well, that depends on you.”

Tom wanted to just reach over and strangle the man with his bare hands, but that wasn’t an option.  Maybe he could brew up a batch of Ebola and infect the bastard with it, but that would probably be too easy  a death for this man.  “Go on.” He said, far calmer than he felt on the inside.

“You see, the life of a struggling businessman in Mexico is not easy. I had a wonderfully profitable import business going until two years ago when the U.S. Government pressured the Indian chemical manufacturers to stop sending Ephedrine by the ton to my medical manufacturing plants here in Mexico.” The drug lord paused as if collecting his thoughts.

“So, I have been struggling to find a replacement and your name came up in my quest. You see your thesis paper on the possibility of cheaply and efficiently producing an ephedrine-like compound using the cocoa plant and the coffee plant sounded very promising.  It is a shame that the DEA thought so too and classified your work soon after you received your final grade. An A+ if I recall. Good work, Dr. Lynch!”

Tom thought that he could see where this conversation was going.  “So, you want me to get you a copy of my thesis since the DEA buried it except for the synopsis, right?”

“Excellent deduction Dr. Lynch, but no. I realize that you are probably not in the habit of bringing your 10 year old thesis paper with you on your family vacations, so I will need a bit more than that from you.”

“What?”

“I need you to work with my chemists to show them how create the substance that you managed to create for your thesis’ proof.  I figure that with your intelligence and motivation, you should be able to accomplish that well before your family is to return to America.”

“And you will return Melody to me, unharmed?”

The drug lord laughed. “Oh no Dr. Lynch, as a gesture of goodwill, I will merely insure that she is found and returned to you unharmed.  Such criminal acts cannot be allowed to continue in my city. It is bad for business.”

“I see, when do you want me to start?”

“Oh, how about tomorrow? That way you can get a good night’s sleep while I make sure you have all the equipment and supplies that you need for a speedy success.  Your daughter will surely be frightened to be away from her parents and everything that we can do to limit that time is good, no?”
 

<Apr 7th 2012 - Somewhere near Salina Cruz, Mexico>

I woke up and realized that I was lying on the top of a bed, but I am not snuggled under the covers like I should be.  I think that had the scariest dream, ever, because I dreamed that I was kidnapped while at the beach.  It was a dream, right?

When did I fall asleep and why am I still wearing my bikini?  

My head is killing me and I feel a little sick. I open my eyes and look around the room. There is a small lamp on a nightstand that is putting out enough light for me to tell that this is not our room.

Where am I?

“Mom...Dad?” I said, timidly calling out for them. Based on how I was feeling, I expected them to rush into the room to see if I was okay. But, they didn’t.

“Mom?” I asked again. Nothing.

Then, I saw an attached bathroom and my stomach chose that moment to remind me that it was not happy with me. I jumped up and ran into the bathroom, just in time grab my hair and puke into the toilet. As I was puking up my lunch, I couldn’t decide which was worse, my headache or the puking.  After I puked for five minutes, my head felt better, so maybe it was something that I ate and my ‘rents took me to some strange hospital. I had no idea where I was or why I was here.  

My head still felt a little fuzzy. Even a couple of generic ibuprofen would have rocked, but the medicine cabinet was empty. So, I splashed some water on my face and that helped some.  Then, I realized that I was thirsty and I drank the water directly from the tap. It wasn’t until I had drunk my fill that I remembered that I was in Mexico and you are not supposed to drink the water here.

“Oh god! Where am I?” I asked to no one in particular.  The room’s window curtains were closed, so I walked over and peeked out.  It was night out. How long was a asleep for?  My window looked out into a huge pool area that overlooked a forested valley. The moon was full, so that helped me see everything better. The pool was one of those cool infinity pools where the water runs right up the edge and spills over.  Did we get an upgrade on our resort?

“Mom? Dad?” I called out as I walked over to the room’s door.  I opened it and that is when I remembered what happened at the beach.  There was one large Mexican dude with a Uzi or some kind of gun and a smaller dude who had the same kind of gun.

“Niá±a, no trate de salir de su habitaciá³n o voy a tener que hacerte daá±o!” The big dude yelled with a sneer that exposed a few missing teeth.  He was not a nice person, but the smaller dude really freaked me out the most.

He had a cheap wooden handled kitchen knife partially wrapped with black electrical tape that he had pulled halfway out of a stained leather sheath to expose the blade to me.  If my dad had seen the dude’s blade he would have chewed him out for taking such crappy care of it.  The blade was all nicked and scratched, but even worse I could see that it had rust stains on it from not cleaning it properly. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was the way that the smaller dude looked at me and smiled that scared me the most.  He made me feel like I was naked and sizing me up for something creepy.

“Whhaat? Umm,  ¿qué?” I asked as I retreated back into the room until I bumped into the bed and fell onto it, sitting down. I think that he said girl and something about my room, but he yelled it so fast, that I couldn’t get it all. Plus, I was still trying to figure out what was going on and my head hurt.

“estancia de mierda, puta!” He yelled, pointing at the bed.

Okay, those Spanish words I understood completely and I don’t think that I need to translate. I was supposed to stay in the room.  Okay, dude, I got it, but you didn’t have to be so nasty about it.

“ ¿Puedo tener una aspirina? Tengo un, umm, headeache.” I said because I could really use something for my head.

“Chica, tengo algo para usted que le ayude con eso …” The smaller dude said with a leer that made me decide that my headache was just fine the way it was. I did not need any of his ‘help’ with that.

His buddy thought it was pretty funny too because he laughed and slapped him on his back while he undressed me with his eyes. “Oh, sá­, la puta está¡ muy bien!” He said.

I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover up.  They left the room, laughing at my reactions to them, but before the big dude closed the door, he licked his lips as he smiled at me. Then, he glanced back at the smaller dude behind him and something in Spanish that I won’t bother trying to repeat.

Their laughter carried through the door, even after it was closed. They were not nice men and what I was able to translate scared the crap out of me. He said something about wanting a turn when his boss was done with me and that I had a tight, umm, never mind. I might only be in 7th grade, but I have heard enough Spanish swear words to know that it wasn’t nice. I shivered from both fear and well, more fear because even when them gone, I still felt like they were looking at me. They made my skin crawl, literally. I could not spot any cameras, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. I did not feel at all safe with those two ‘guarding’ me. I had to get out of here.

I ripped the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around myself.  That did not really help me feel any safer. Warmer, yes.  I parted the window curtains and looked out. If I jumped out my window, I could probably land in the pool, but it was two floors down.  I bet that hitting the water would hurt and it was probably not deep enough.  Breaking my leg or worse, my head would not help me get out of here at all.

What was that other show my dad liked? MacGyver or something?  I needed a rope to climb down.  Bedsheets!  That is what they used on TV shows to escape from jail.  I ripped the rest of the sheets off the bed and tied them together and to the blanket to make my rope as long as possible.  Then, I tied one end to the bed frame and gave it a good tug to confirm that it was tight enough.  I just hoped that Shifty and Creepy didn’t decide to check on me.  They probably would not be very happy with me if they caught me right now.

MacGyver rope in hand, I peeked out the window.  I didn’t spot anyone outside, so I carefully opened the window. Lucky for me it was one of those European ones that opened from the bottom and swung out to allow the window to be open even when it was raining.  Plus, it was nice and quiet too.  No squeaks here!  I carefully poked my head out and looked around.

There was a dude with one of those machine gun things walking around the house. I pulled my head back in and prayed that he did not spot me or notice the open window.  

“Crap!” I said, accidently whispering to myself. Fearful that Shifty and Creepy might have heard, I glanced back at the door to my room.

Yes, I said, “Crap!” I think that I deserved just a little bit of frustration at this point. I listened for yelling, but nothing happened so I cautiously peeked outside again.  He was walking right below my window!  

Crap, Crap, Crap, Crap and more Crap!

I froze, but I did not actually say crap this time. If I pulled back in, I might make noise and attract his attention, but if I stayed out; he might look up and spot my face.  I was a nervous wreck until he turned the corner of the house and disappeared without spotting me or raising an alarm.

Phhhheeewww!

I started breathing again.  I looked back the other way and I didn’t see anyone else. It was now or never!  Before I could change my mind and chicken out, I tossed  my rope out of the window. No one yelled or fired their gun at me, but it stopped about five feet off the ground.  Perfect!  

While it was nice that the moon was full and I could see, it was also not nice because they could see too and I am sure that my winter non-tan skin almost glowed.  Not the best of light to have when you are trying to sneak out of the house, not that I have ever done that or anything. Honest.

I edged my body out of the window as quickly and carefully as I could. Then, using my feet to hold on to my rope, I shimmied down as fast as I could. I brushed up against the side of the house a few times, but I hardly felt it since I was so scared that I was going to fall, be spotted or my rope would break.

Once I reached the end of my rope, I pushed off the house with my feet and dropped the last eight or so feet to the ground. I managed to surprise myself and land lightly on my bare feet. I expected the landing to hurt more without shoes.  God, I hoped that there was a sidewalk that I could run down, because I was not one of those granola girls who walked around with bare feet all the time.  Especially not when I had so many pretty shoes in my closet that I could wear instead.

I decided that the pool and over the edge would be the best route since I had no idea which way to go or how long it would take before someone else decided to walk past the pool.  My rope was pretty darn easy to spot and there wasn’t anything that I could do about that. I slid into the pool and quickly swam across.  The outer edge looked over a large hillside and I could see the glow of a large town off to the right. I couldn’t see that from my room since the house blocked the view.  Okay, I had a direction to go. Now, I just needed to figure out how to get there from here.  

The pool wall looked to be about eight feet from the ground below, but I was not sure how I could get out of the pool and down the hill without breaking my neck.  The slope was kind of steep and rocky for the first 20 or 30 feet.  I glanced back at the house and not spotting anyone who might see me, I crawled over the edge, hung by my fingers on the outer pool splash guard, then dropped the last few inches to the ground.

Ouch!

The rocks hurt my feet, but I don’t think that I cut them.

“Okay, easy does it, nice and slow. No noise.” I said, muttering softly under my breath as I cautiously worked my down the slope. I felt so happy when I made it all the way to the brush line and softer ground for my feet.

“ ¡Mierda! La niá±a ha escaped!” Some dude yelled.

He was not my friend, but at least he didn’t call me a bad name.  Then, there was a lot more yelling, but I decided that I didn’t want to listen, so I started running. I made it five or so feet before I learned that running with bare feet in the woods or forest or jungle or whatever this stuff was called was a bad idea.  I stepped on something was a little sharp, then I fell down, scratching my knees and making a lot of noise.  Okay, it wasn’t a lot of noise, but apparently it was enough.

“Ella está¡ ahá­ abajo! Ella está¡ ahá­ abajo!” My not a friend yelled from somewhere above me.

[BBBbbbbrrrraaaaappppp!]

Then, I decided that maybe I wasn’t running fast enough when someone fired their gun in my direction. I made it another 100 or so yards before I tripped again and bounced my elbow off of something, but I could hear men yelling behind me and I did not have time to stop.  I wanted to cry, maybe even stop running and find a place to hide. Like up in a tree somewhere or in a bush, but I didn’t see anything that looked promising.

I lost track of which direction I needed to go.  From deep in the jungle, I couldn’t see the glow of the city anymore, but I could hear men swearing and hacking at bushes as they searched for me.

“Ven aquá­ niá±a. No te hará¡ daá±o.” I heard them yelling out to me, but after Shifty, Creepy and the other dude firing his gun in my direction, I did not believe them. My feet felt pretty cut up, but I so far, the adrenaline must have been keeping the pain at bay. That was good, because I knew that if I stopped, I probably would not be able to start again.  Plus, if they found me, they would not be happy campers.  They would probably hit me a few times or something.

I felt so relieved when I found a trail. A trail would lead me to someplace. Hopefully someplace that I could find some help. A trail was also easier to follow and had less stuff for me to step on and hurt my feet. A trail also meant that I could run faster.  A trail also meant that I had two directions to choose from and I had no clue which one I should choose.  Left or right?  I was about to go left, because I think that most people would go right, but then I heard some of the men yelling from that direction. Okay, so right it was.

I ran. I fell and I stepped on a few more sharp things that hurt my feet even more, but I also heard them yelling behind me. I think that I had a three or four hundred yard lead on them and I wondered how they were following me. I wasn’t yelling or screaming like they were. Except for my ragged breathing, I wasn’t making a lot of noise.  This was way, way worse than running wind sprints during soccer practice, but I also didn’t have meanies chasing me with guns during soccer practice either.

I think that I lost them after I managed to run without falling down for five or so minutes. I had to stop and catch my breath. My knees were scratched and I had blood running down my shins. My feet, I didn’t want to look, but they hurt, a lot. I managed to catch my breath and look around. I hoped that I could spot the city glow again and that maybe I was actually on a trail that led to the city.  This trail had been heading mostly downhill, so I had to be getting close to something.

I had to start moving again, but now that I stopped; I found it hard to get started again. My feet hurt so much that I could barely walk.  They really hurt and I could not help it. I started to cry and whimper with every slow and painful step.  They probably would have been able to catch me right there.

“Voy a matar a esa puta, cuando yo la cojo!” I heard Creepy yell with frustration.

“Cá¡llate idiota!”

Shit!  I did not understand exactly what Creepy yelled, but I did not have any problem understanding his buddy. I forgot all about my feet and started running again. Why wouldn’t they give up?

I tried looking behind me.  Big mistake because I ran right into a big freaking rock.  Not just a big freaking rock, but a big freaking square rock and it hurt. A lot and I accidentally screamed.

“De esta manera!  ¡Date prisa! La puta es de esta manera!”

They were a lot closer now. I rolled off the rock or big brick or whatever it was and ran.  There were a lot of rocks here now. There were also walls. I spotted some stairs and ran up them.

[Bbrrraaaappp!]

I heard someone shoot their gun at me and I heard things ricocheting behind me against the rock walls. Yeah, I figured out that those were bullets and that made me scream again. I reached the top of the stairs and the ground here was nice and flat, so I ran without really much thought as to where I was going.  There were structures here and I ran around, over and through them.  Then, tripped at the top of some stairs and landed right on my chest.  That hurt and I am sorry, I screamed from the pain and I could not get back up.  I tried, but all I could do was crawl. My feet hurt so much. I spotted a table and I tried to reach it. Maybe I could hide behind it.

I heard someone running up the stairs behind me. I scrambled to reach the table, but someone kicked me in my side and knocked me over.

“ ¡Maldita puta!” Creepy yelled at me.  Then, he grabbed me by my hair and dragged me towards the table.

“Please, Please, Please! Let me go!” I cried.

He slapped me. “Cá¡llate puta!”

I felt his hand on my chest, so I kneed him in his balls, but I guess I didn’t hit him hard enough.

He slapped me again and this time I saw stars. “Mantenga ella! Mantenga ella!”

I screamed when I felt some other hands grab my legs and hold them down.

“No, No, No! Let me go!” I tried to kick and twist away. Then, someone else grabbed one of my arms.
 

<Apr 7th 2012 - Florida >

At 58 years old, I was almost too young to die, but death was coming for me and pretty damn fast.  I guess that I couldn’t really complain because I don’t feel surprised. I never expected to last past my 30th birthday. Hell, just making to my 21st birthday was a big surprise for me.  I guess you could say that I almost had a death wish by joining the Navy as an underage enlistment at 17, but I had to get away from home.  Even going to ‘Nam was better than listening to my pop rant about how I wasn’t man enough for him.  I think that becoming a Navy SEAL showed him, but not like I really cared what he thought anymore.

At 6’ 2” and 250lbs and none of it fat, I was pretty damn tough. I thought so anyway. That is why I volunteered to try out for the SEALS. The UDT/SEALS program squared away my little ego problem for me right damn fast. I was a good little SEAL though and took to the “work” far easier than I probably should have.  I did so many things back then that seemed right at the time, but now, it all seems kind of grey. Oh sure, there were definitely some folks that just needed killing and I was more than happy to take them there, but some were harder than others.  Not that I let that stop me from getting the job done.

No, the past was in the past and I am sure that the devil had a room all ready for me in hell.  Nothing that I could do about that except keep the bastard’s room empty for as long as possible. Maybe he would give up and rent it out to someone else.  I had the love and acceptance of my daughter and that was my redemption.  My other kids, not so much, but I refused to let them get me down. I had enough parts of my own body letting me down. I still wanted them to succeed and do well. I would gladly support them in anything they did; that is love for you.

The pain meds and other shit they had me taking were really kicking my ass and I kind of wished that the docs would come up with something better. I hated how they made me feel and worst of all, I couldn’t drink beer. Well, I wasn’t supposed to anyway. Not that I complained when Danielle would sneak in a small cup or two of my favorite beer for me.  Now that was love.

Even with all the pain meds, I still felt something go wrong in my chest.  I realized that I was having difficulty breathing, but Danielle was right there with me. Holding my hand and whispering that she loved me over and over. I wasn’t worried and I guess that I started to dream, because in my dream, I felt a strange sense of lightness. It reminded me of the times that I was forced to wait for the bubbleheads in their rubber coated dick to come pick me up after an op. We called the sub something else, but that is close enough.

It was usually night and at 30 feet below the ocean surface while floating with perfect neutral buoyancy; it can be very relaxing, especially after a hairy mission. Some of the other guys hated it like I hated HALO drops, but me, I loved it.  It was almost like being in a sensory deprivation tank, but the ocean isn’t silent.  It is alive and when you are in the water while breathing with a rebreather apparatus, there was not even the sound of your bubbles to distract you from hearing the ocean sing to you.  I remembered the one time that a pod of whales sang from miles away and the sound went straight through my bones, melting all the stress away.

“Am I dead?” I asked.

I was not sure where I was, but if I was dead and not just dreaming, I expected hell to be a bit more, hellish.  I thought that I heard a sound off to my right.  I listened and then I heard it. It sounded like a little girl was crying. I did not think that it was Danielle. The girl’s cries sounded too young to be her, but with the meds, it could be.  

I oriented on that sound and willed myself to go in that direction.  I could not feel my feet, my arms, my hands or anything really, but this was just a dream, right? I knew that I should feel alarmed by that realization, but I felt more alarmed by the sound of the crying girl than anything else. She sounded like she was in desperate need of help and my father instincts were kicking in full force.

I felt a tearing and wrenching sensation and my non-existent stomach dropped for a fraction of a second.  Then, I felt my body again and as I looked down at myself, I noticed that I looked young again. I was wearing one of my old team camouflage uniforms, but the focus of my attention was grabbed by the sight of a young Caucasian girl with long raven black hair. She was lying on her back and crying her heart out while softly repeating, “Mommy...Daddy...” over and over again. That just about killed me.

She was bleeding from a stab wound in her chest and she had blood on her thighs and dirt with minor scratches on her face, arms, knees and elbows. Her feet were bloody, like she had run barefoot over glass or something. She did not go down without a fight. I could see that from her wounds and many abrasions.

She looked like she might be 10 or 12 years old, at the most, and even with all her wounds, I could tell that underneath all of that, she was a very pretty girl. My heart ached to try and comfort her, because based on her wounds; I could tell what had happened to her.

However; the one thing that stopped me from running over and trying to help her right away was the thing that she was lying on.  It tugged at my memory for a second until it clicked. The girl was lying on top of the altar to that Aztec goddess that I had used to off that drug dealer so many years ago.  Except this altar looked brand new and it was painted in gold, silver and other bright colors.

Still, she needed help. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe now...” I said, softly as I crept closer and to almost within arm’s reach of the girl.

“She can’t hear you.” A woman’s voice said with a deep sadness that seemed to stretch beyond time.

I turned toward the sound of her voice and was stunned to find a very beautiful woman with reddish skin, raven black hair and the most stunning sea-green eyes that I had ever seen studying me. She was bare chested, but wore what appeared to be a skirt made of gold and jade.

“Excuse me, who are you?” I asked, trying to be polite as possible in the presence of a half naked sort of American Indian dream girl. It was hard to place her nationality, but she was stunning regardless.  Stunning doesn’t quite capture her beauty. No, she was a goddess and that is when it hit me.  The altar, my dream, the girl, my offing or maybe sacrificing the drug lord on the altar. Maybe this wasn’t a dream and maybe this woman was that goddess. I couldn’t remember her name, but I think it started with a ‘Ch’ or something.

The goddess did not seem to notice her lack of a top as she took a casual step closer to me. “I am Chalchiuhtlicue, but who I am is not important right now. It is for this woman child that you see before you that I have brought you to this place.  You see, she is dying. However, she has a chance to live. Her physical wounds, she may recover from, but her psychological wounds, those will never fully heal for her.”  

I almost missed her whisper. “...but you, Donald James Wolf, can help her.”

I did not understand. I had some emergency medical training. I knew how to stop the bleeding and get her stabilized until she could be med-vacced, but not the mental part. “How?”

The woman smiled seductively at me as she caressed the side of my cheek with the back of her hand. “Give yourself to me.” She said, whispering in my ear.  

The feel of her hand on my skin, the scent of her body and the warmth of her breath in my ear made it incredibly difficult to concentrate and I felt my body responding like it hadn’t for longer than I care to remember, but her answer didn’t make sense.

“What?” I asked.

She gave me some breathing room and stalked over to her altar with the girl. “You might not realize this, but you and she are linked together. When you killed that drug lord using nothing but your blade, a warrior’s blade tempered in battle and quenched in the ocean, you were the first in almost five hundred years to present me with a worthy sacrifice. I would have preferred his heart, but I believe that your culture has a saying about never looking a gift horse in the mouth, no?” She asked with the slightest of pouts that just made me want to kiss her.

I nodded my head yes and held my ground. She was very good at being very distracting.

She seemed amused by my reaction. “If this woman child dies, she will be the first in almost five hundred years to be murdered on one of my altars. The blade used was not worthy of me. It is insulting to think that the pig that stabbed her used a low quality kitchen knife. Worse yet, she was raped, her virginity and more importantly, her innocence was brutally stolen from her. It is those crimes that I find the most appalling.  I would have vengeance for myself and for the girl.”

I had no problem with those reasons. I wanted more than anything to help the girl, but I didn’t see how I could be of any use. 20 years ago, sure; I would have been more than happy to hunt down and kill the dogs who did this to her, but that wouldn’t heal her. “Okay, how can I help? I’m dead or mostly dead and even if I wasn’t; I am still too old and thousands of miles away from where ever she is.  She is in Mexico, right?”

“Yes. Do you, Donald James Wolf, give your immortal soul to me? Freely and without regret for me to forge into the instrument of my vengeance?” She said with an expression that spoke of barely restrained power and anger.

That was a lot to ask for, but a single glance at the girl was all it took for me to decide.

“Yes.”  I said, while wondering if my soul was really worth that much. I am sure that it was blackened and tarnished in many places.  I doubted that it would make a good weapon for her.

“Then, kiss the girl on her forehead and take away her pain.  Live her pain so that you may know who it is that deserves my vengeance and be my instrument on this earth. Know that water is my domain. Rivers, lakes, seas, oceans and the storms are of my body. Return to my body if you are injured during your journey.”

I looked down at the girl’s tear streaked face. She was so young and so pretty. She didn’t deserve whatever had happened to her. I didn’t care what it took. If selling my soul to Chalchiuhtlicue would help this girl, then my soul was hers to take.  I looked back up at Chalchiuhtlicue one last time. She smiled at me and the warmth of her smile was all it took.  I kissed the girl’s forehead.

Her name is Melody Amber Lynch and she is only 12 years old.

Those fuckers are going to pay for this.