***
The University of Texas at Brownsville was a stark contrast to the bleak neighborhoods to the north. Despite the occasional indication of having been looted, and the obvious months-long lack of maintenance, the campus was still beautiful. Amphitheaters, fountains and gardens, they all remained. The Resaca, or oxbow lake, reflected the occasional star that shined through the cloudy, night sky. The squad took full advantage of the broad shadows cast by the tall campus buildings as they continued south.
As they crossed the narrow isthmus on Ringgold Road that connected the north and south sections of the campus, they heard the shattering of glass somewhere ahead. The squad disappeared into the tall grass and shrubs along the shoulders of the road. They readied their rifles and scanned ahead, looking for the source of the sound. From behind a distant building, they saw a bottle fly through the air and shatter on the pavement in front of them.
An engine rumbled to life. Headlights flashed across the pavement. A large, flatbed truck slowly appeared from around the building and turn north towards the squad. The two amigos up front were scanning the road ahead, but the half-dozen soldados on the back were drinking and howling as they flung empty bottles at passing signs and windows. Their rifles bounced and clattered on the bed of the truck beside them. Unbeknownst to the men, a dozen rifles were trained at them from the darkness beyond.
Barrett followed the driver with his M4 carbine, watching him as he drove the aging diesel unwittingly past a momentarily merciful angel of death. He wondered what the men’s purpose was, meandering through the city. Perhaps they were freelance thugs, scavenging the remains of the city. He considered the thought and decided it was highly unlikely. They were most likely part of the narco alliance.
The flatbed sentries passed by without incident. After several minutes, the squad resumed their trek down Ringgold Road. They crossed University Boulevard, passed the student REK center and disappeared back down along the wooded shoreline of the oxbow lake, continually moving south.
Up ahead, they saw a ruined, smoldering building. As they approached, Barrett was filled with rage. He had heard that the National Guard Facility had fallen, but seeing the horrific results first hand was more than he could stand.
The white building had gaping holes in its sides, and was blackened and charred with soot. Several badly burned Humvees were scattered about, and many more were missing. The red, white and blue flag that had flown over the facility had been replaced with a red, white and green standard. The squad noticed the grisly pikes that were prominently displayed around the flag pole in front of the building. They were adorned in the same macabre fashion as before.
The squad paused upon seeing the horrific sight. Several men made the sign of the cross, while others simply bowed their heads to say a solemn prayer for the brave souls that were lost.
In the distance, gunfire rang out somewhere in the city. Barrett cursed himself for letting the driver of the flatbed pass through his sights and continue to wreak havoc. The men turned and nodded to each other in an unspoken agreement. They would not be as merciful next time.
The team crossed River Levee Road and entered Fort Brown Memorial Golf Course. The greens had seen two seasons without any maintenance. The tall grass helped conceal the squad as they dashed through the night to the tree line. They spotted a distant campfire on the far side of the course. Apparently someone had sought the relative safety of the abandoned greens. Still, the open campfire was a perilous luxury they had afforded themselves. The squad maintained a watchful eye on dancing flames as they cut across the course.
After several minutes, they were standing on the bank of the Rio Grande. It had been decided that they would divide into three fire teams upon reaching the river. The first team would remain on the American side of the river and provide observation, rear guard and long-range fire support. The other teams would cross the Rio Grande. The second team would remain in a defensive position on the Mexican side of the river, and the final team would perform the reconnaissance of the park.
The first team found a high position that afforded them concealment and line of sight, while the other two teams readied themselves for the crossing. Team Two reached the opposite bank first and got into a forward facing position.
As the final team reached foreign soil, they stripped out of their wet battle dress uniforms and retrieved the dry civilian garbs from their packs. The clothing was nondescript and typical for the area: cotton pants and buttoned shirts with ball caps. Two of the team members wore tattered sneakers. The other two wore boots and serape capes loosely draped over their shirts. The two SEALs concealed suppressed MP5s beneath their serapes, while the guardsmen abandoned their M4 carbines for Berretta pistols. The two teams exchanged their goodbyes and slaps on the back, before the final team disappeared over the hill and into Matamoros.
***
Barrett, Holt and the two other members of the team climbed the steep wooded bank and crossed the empty street that followed the Rio Grande’s meanderings. They strolled along the sidewalk nonchalantly, like locals familiar with the area. They split up in pairs as they passed a pedestrian and remained a short distance apart as they continued onward. After a block or so, they turned right onto Alhelíes.
From their perspective, Matamoros was not unlike many other cities. The buildings in the area were well maintained, and the sidewalks and streets were reasonably free of trash. The streets were in rather poor condition, though. They were cracked heavily and missing chunks of pavement in some areas. Other sections were no more than a series of patches, the original pavement long since replaced.
There was no access to any property beyond the sidewalks. Fences, gates and buildings were constructed to the edge of the street’s right of way. All windows were covered with bars to further protect the viviendas from any matόns that may be looking for an easy target. Most of the streetlights were not working for one reason or another. Alhelíes Street was dark, save for the occasional, dim, porch light. Barrett preferred the darkness. He knew that a nosy local would immediately make them for gringos.
The one-way street was lined with old, rusted Fords and Pontiacs. An occasional Mercedes could be seen behind eight foot wrought-iron fencing with barb wire strung across the top.
As they reached the end of the block, the young guardsman beside Barrett whispered, “There’re four men about a ways behind us. I think we’re being followed.”
“Yeah, they’re definitely following us. They have been since we first stepped foot in the city.”
“Well, what now?”
“Just keep walking, we’ll round the corner and see what our options are.
***
The four gamberros had watched the fire team appear out of the thicket that covered the banks of the Rio Grande from several blocks away. They were intrigued by the men and decided to shadow them for a short while. The strangers seemed to blend into the area well enough, perhaps too well. To anyone else, the men from the river would have likely been a passing blur in the night. But to the gamberros, who lived on the streets, something was subtly foreign about the four.
The small-time thugs survived by blade and barrel. They were thieves, murderers and always for hire. They terrorized the honest people that lived on the blocks that they laid claim to. To the gamberros, it was simply the nature of things. If they did not do it someone else would, so it may as well be them.
As the gamberros warily shadowed the men from a safe distance, the leader of the group retrieved the nickel-plated pistola from the small of his back. His three compadres gripped their long-bladed puῆales in anticipation of the encounter. They saw the men from the river glance sidelong and notice their presence. The four, strange men quickened their pace as they prepared to turn onto Primera.