Chapter 1: Changing Latin America

The sound of the car tires grinding over dirt gave me a bad feeling.

I leaned my face out the window, trying to shake off the awful premonition weighing on me. I knew coming here was a terrible idea, especially with the recent conflicts between organized crime and the local population.

From what I had been told, these criminal groups extorted the townspeople through violence and threats—threats they usually carried out.

“We need to hurry.”

My words reached the driver, and he simply nodded. Then he stepped on the accelerator, and little by little we made our way deeper into the rural town. I couldn’t see any other cars nearby, nor any pedestrians working the fields.

“We’re almost there, Representative. Do you have your speech ready?” my driver asked.

“Of course I do. I’m going to propose my new security strategy to drive these rats out of here. I can’t allow them to hurt people who work hard every single day to get ahead.”

My determination did not waver. Despite the threats and warnings I had received, I had no intention of backing down.

After all, my father had died of old age when I turned twenty-five, and my mother had died giving birth to me. I had no romantic partner, no friends—only coworkers who had aligned themselves with my ideals of greatness.

The truck entered the town ten minutes later. Once again, the absence of people made me uncomfortable, especially considering the time: it was barely four in the afternoon.

The place was no different from most Mexican towns in the north. The houses were made of solid concrete and brick, and the main avenues showed off a fresh layer of patchwork that probably wouldn’t last more than six months.

“We’re here. We should go straight to the pavilion and prepare the event. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

“As you say, Representative. To be honest, I really admire you. Even though you’re not even thirty yet, people on social media already recognize you as one of the few honest politicians in this country. If there were more people like you, then my children wouldn’t be afraid to go out into the street.”

The driver, whose name was Hugo, praised me with sincere words.

We had been working together since the beginning of the year, and we had gotten along right away. We weren’t exactly friends, but at least he knew when to say badass things.

“It’s simply the right thing to do. I’ll make sure Mexico becomes a safe place for the next generations.”

We reached the central plaza at a good time. The place was an esplanade covered by a plastic dome that gave it a futuristic appearance, though with certain touches of poverty. At last, I saw a few street vendors walking nearby, all of them with their little stands attached to three-wheeled bicycles.

“I still don’t see anyone, sir. Should I go look for them at city hall?” Hugo asked.

“Yes, go check. I’ll stay here and start handling the logistics. Let them know we arrived early. They must be eating.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

Hugo started the truck and drove away, leaving me alone in the middle of the esplanade.

I took a quick look around the site. Apparently, we would have to move a platform in the back to improve visibility. As for the sound system, I supposed two subwoofers and about six speakers connected by a main cable would be enough.

Interesting. I would make sure to give an excellent speech and move the authorities into action.

“Oh, finally.”

I heard the sound of two white trucks approaching from the distance. They were probably the other representatives and the mayor.

Fortunately, they did not take long. There was still plenty of work to do before nightfall.

“Hey…”

And then my words suddenly vanished.

Three men wearing military-style balaclavas stepped out of the two trucks, carrying high-caliber weapons that were probably illegal. I didn’t need to be a genius to understand their intentions.

“Motherfucker!”

I shouted as I ducked behind the iron fountain.

There were six attackers, all heavily armed and wearing bulletproof vests. They did not say a single word to me. They simply unleashed a hail of bullets with every intention of turning me into something worse than Swiss cheese.

“Help!”

I shouted again. From my pocket, I pulled out my own handgun and tried to defend myself.

Only an idiot would challenge mafiosos while unarmed. Since my teenage years, I had trained in firearms and hand-to-hand combat because I knew that sooner or later, I would find myself in a dangerous situation.

Okay. Stay calm…

I could not let panic and terror take over. I had to keep them away until the police arrived to save me.

“Kill that asshole!” one of the hitmen shouted while continuing to fire at the statue.

“Ah!”

I faked a cry of pain to make them lower their guard. And sure enough, it worked. The gunfire stopped, and one of the thugs immediately walked toward me with his rifle. He thought he was going to give me the coup de grâce and finish the execution.

A grave mistake.

I released the safety on my pistol and aimed to the right.

“Boo,” I whispered.

The criminal was already relaxed, thinking he would find a dying man, not a guy pointing a gun at him.

“You son of a—!”

He couldn’t finish cursing me. I blew his head off with a shot that not only pierced his balaclava, but also scattered his brains around the statue.

“That son of a bitch tricked us!” another hitman shouted, enraged by the recent humiliation.

It wasn’t every day that feared armed enforcers were confronted by a simple low-ranking representative.

“Help! I’m being attacked!” I kept shouting, trying to get reinforcements.

I was scared.

My screams seemed to be useless, because not a single soul came out to help me—or even to alert the authorities.

The criminals resumed their gunfire once more, and this time they spread out to both sides.

“No, no, no…”

I whispered as two silent tears ran down my cheeks.

I knew very well what they were planning to do: surround me from both flanks and shoot me once the fountain could no longer protect me.

“Just die already, asshole!”

Two attackers positioned themselves on my right flank, and three on my left.

“Please, help!”

I nearly tore my throat apart with that desperate scream. The thugs surrounded me and aimed their weapons. This looked like the end.

With all my heart, I wished that a Mexican Army vehicle would arrive right now, machine guns ready, to rescue me. I couldn’t die here. Not when my political career was only just beginning…

“AHHH!”

I shot one of the hitmen in the head, killing him instantly, but the other four sprayed me with bullets before I had any chance to dodge or take cover again.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

It hurt so much.

I could feel the steel of the bullets tearing through my joints as my blood spilled all over the ground. Never in my life had I felt such pain and suffering. This had to be a nightmare, some horrible vision born from my imagination.

Right?

Right?

No…

This definitely wasn’t some mistake.

I really was going to be murdered.

No one would ever know about my ideals or intentions. All my work would have been for nothing…

No, no, no…

I lost my vision, and then I stopped feeling my limbs. Blood filled my cold lips until I could no longer feel its warmth.

No, no, no…

It couldn’t end like this.

“We killed this asshole. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Those were the last words I managed to hear.

The sounds disappeared, and in the end, only a white darkness wrapped around me.

And that was how Esaú Sánchez Moreno, a twenty-nine-year-old state representative, ended his life.

Bathed in steel and blood, with no one by his side to say a final goodbye.