Chapter 2: Jose

Jose Ramirez was just twelve years old when he first killed, a human that is, and even today he remembered it with a combination of fear and sensuality. The fact that that first time had been associated with sex may explain why he still took orgasmic pleasure in the act of ending another man’s life.

He had been growing up, too fast perhaps, on his grandfather’s smallholding in the mountains that make up the border area between Columbia and Peru. He wasn’t sure which side of the border he was on, and really he didn't care, nor did any of the other peasant farmers that moved at their pleasure back and forth. All he knew and cared about was that he was poor, and often hungry, and that he didn’t like that much.

That day started much like any other day, but by the time it was over he would be changed forever. His Grandmother had woken him before dawn to tell him that his Grandfather was too ill to make a trip to a nearby village in the next valley. He must go because the leaves they had collected the previous day would spoil if the were not delivered to the processing plant that day, and the little they got for them would be even less. He loaded the bags onto the back of the donkey that was their only means of transportation, and set out just as soon as the shadows in the forest parted to reveal the path. He was not the least afraid, as he had played and worked in these forests for as long as he could remember, and he enjoyed the solitude they conveyed. By mid morning he could see the village he was headed for, and knew that the men he was to meet would find him before he actually reached the first shack.

When the men appeared as if by magic out of the forest to block his path his only surprise was how fine they looked. Their fatigues were smart and new compared to his threadbare clothes and the guns they carried were impressive to say the least. But the thing that impressed the boy most were the men’s sun glasses, large and sleek and shiny, they hid their eyes and imparted a look of sinister superiority. The boy knew at that instant that he had to have these things, and he had to find out how he could get them. He knew enough of the men’s reputation to know that today was not the time to find out, and these men were not the ones to ask, but he resolved that at some other time not to far in the future and at some other place probably not too far away, he would find out.

He passed over the bags, took the meager payment, and turned to return along the path he had come, but knowing it was early yet, and that if he returned before nightfall, he would have other tasks to perform around the farm, he was in no hurry. Deciding to take his time, he soon left the established path to follow a track that led him along a stream. The route was more a game trail than a path, as he frequently had to force his way through the encroaching foliage. Clearly no other person had used this path in a long time.

He followed the stream, as it meandered in the general direction of his home letting his mind wander as boys do, and he was in a dream walk when he suddenly became aware that the canopy overhead had opened up and the sun was shining through upon a quiet pool. On the far edge of the pool was a girl swimming. He stopped and pressed himself against the edge of the path and watched. It was not long before he noticed the paler flesh of her bosom glinting in the sunlight, and he saw that she was totally naked. The girl had not seen him, and he wanted to keep it that way as he crouched and crawled his way forward for a better view. She was younger than he, perhaps only ten years old but already he could see the early formation of her breasts and the shadow of her new pubic hair. The excitement rose in his body, and he flushed with emotions he had not known before. The unexpected pressure in his groin confused him. He wanted to flee, but some primal urge forced him to edge closer and closer.

By the time the still unconcerned girl had swum enough, and began to stroll towards her discarded clothes, he was within a few yards of the path she would use, hidden in the brush. As she walked past he stretched out and caught her arm, intending only to delay her. She screamed, and he, afraid that she would be heard, covered her nose and mouth with his other hand and clasped her to him. Her struggles seem to enflame his entire body, and he knew he had to do something, but was not quite sure what. His instincts took over and he threw her roughly to the ground, and was on top of her. He was still covering her mouth with his hand so he felt rather than heard her cry of pain as he forced himself inside her, and he did not notice her weakening struggles as he thrashed himself to fruition. When at last he was spent, she was no longer moving, and he knew she was dead.

More confused than ever, he plunged into the pool to clear his head, and knew he had to hide the body. No one had seen him come here, and probably no one had yet missed the girl, but left in the open it would not be long before someone would stumble on the crime. So, still dripping from his swim, he dragged the girl’s naked body deep into the undergrowth. Touching her again rekindled the urges he had satisfied only a half hour before, and he again forced himself on the now lifeless, but still beautiful form. By the time he had gratified himself a third time, and hidden the body to his satisfaction, it was late, and he knew he would now have to run to get home before darkness closed in on the forest.

At last light, as he walked towards his home, his body seemed to have new power, each step carried him much further, and he felt a foot taller. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would begin to change his life, and the world would soon be a different place.

It was not the next day, but very soon after that Jose took to using all his free time following the men he had met that day. He could move about in the forest with the stealth of a jaguar, and though he followed them, or other men like them for several weeks, they never knew he was there. During those weeks, however, he got to know everything. He got to know where the cadre’s met the other peasant farmers to accept the bags of leaves, where they took the leaves to mulch and press, where they took the milky sap to dry and powder, where they stored the blocks of plastic wrapped powder before they met the plane each full moon to send the blocks away, and where they hid the seemingly mountains of cash they received from the plane. He also got to know where they stashed their guns.

All this knowledge was of no use to Jose without some loyal help, and he knew what he needed to get that help. Money. Money he knew would get the help he needed, and money, with a little fear, would keep them loyal. And the money was there for him to see, albeit belonging to others. All that was necessary was a slight change in ownership. So he took some, late one night while the men were asleep, he simply crawled in to their camp and helped himself. Not to it all. He knew the risk he was taking was great, but he could get away with it if they didn't notice anything was gone, for just long enough for him to get ready to do what he had to do. To achieve that objective he also needed a gun, so he helped himself to one of those as well. It was so easy, those cadre’s were so sure of themselves they did not even post a guard.

The help he had set his mind on recruiting were two boys from the same village, one his age, the other a couple of years older. The three often hunted together in the forest, and he knew they had the bush skills they would need. It also helped that the older boy, Francesco or Frankie as he was know, was not very bright, and had come to rely on Jose for direction, and the younger Alex, much shorter, if a little stockier than Jose, had long ago accepted his dominance after being thrashed several times in “playful” fights. The three were not a gang in the urban sense, but they hung out together. They had learned to rely on each other for support in the things that rural kids do, like hunting and fishing and stealing neighboring farmer’s crops.

As expected, as soon as Jose produced the roll of notes from his pocket, both Frankie and Alex were in. Although only a small fraction of the stash of cash from which it had been taken, it was more money than either had seen in their entire lives. They had met in a forest clearing not far from their homes that they often used for their boyhood games. It was still quite early, just an hour after sunset, but as the village folk worked hard from sun up to sundown, everyone else in the village had retired for the night. The three boys discussed their plans in quiet tones and resolved to act three nights from then, when the moon would be approaching full to give them light to find their way, but would set a few hours before dawn to give them darkness for their attack. Jose remarked, “We only have one chance, if we fail we will die.” Both the other boys heard the words but all three showed no concern. With the foolishness of youth they all knew that death happened only to others, even when confronting armed men.

On the appointed night three days later, the three met in the same clearing just before midnight, each having quietly crawled out of their beds to avoid waking their families. Each had brought his weapon of choice, Frankie a long curved hunting knife, so sharp it could sever the head from a turkey in a single stroke, and Alex a spear with which he was particularly skilled. Jose also had a knife, shorter and sturdier than Frankie's, but just as sharp, and hidden in the bedroll he carried was the gun. He wanted to keep that secret even from his comrades, at least for now. They reviewed their plans for their adventure quickly, and were preparing to set out when a slight sound alerted Jose. Motioning the others to silence, he plunged into the undergrowth and was ready to swing his knife in a deathly blow when he realized that the body he had grasped was not a man. He dragged the struggling girl into the clearing, and as soon as the moonlight illuminated her face he recognized her. “What are you doing here, Greta,” he asked, resisting the urge to shout. Greta was Alex's older sister. “I’ve been following you for days,” she replied, “I want to come too.” Jose grabbed Alex in frustration, “Can’t you control your damn sister,” but he knew they were trapped. They couldn’t kill the girl, and she knew the whole plan, so they couldn’t leave her behind. “You know you will never be able to come back?” This thought had never before been enunciated between the three boys, and saying it now made them all pause for just a second. “I know,” said Greta, “thank God. If Jose is gone I too have no wish to return.”

Her words sealed the deal, and after checking that Greta had brought the bow she used in their hunting exploits with which she was lethal, they set off for the men’s hideout. The arrived exactly as planned as the moon disappeared into the forest, and everything became dark. This was the darkness of the jungle, with even the stars blocked out by the solid canopy of trees overhead. Their eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the blackness as the moonlight had faded, but even now each could see only a few feet ahead.

They didn't need to see, as each had memorized the locale to perfection, and each knew the task they had been set. Jose was to take the guard, a single outpost that they were sure by now would be close to sleep, while Frankie and Alex were to position themselves just outside the shelter the men used to sleep in. Greta who was not around when the plans were made, had been assigned a back up function, in case someone failed to neutralize their target.

Having given the others about ten minutes to get into position Jose crept toward the guard, and was only a couple of yards away before he could see him. As expected, he was not asleep, but definitely dozing, so he really did not know anything before the stiff blade separated his ribs and severed the aorta just above his heart. He tried to shout a warning to his colleagues as he collapsed, but the sound emerged as a gurgle no louder than an after dinner belch.

This noise was enough to signal to Alex and Frankie that the attack had begun, and they sprang into the hut, and struck at the sleeping forms. There were more than two, but Frankie’s knife was lethal, and after only three or four swings the two attackers were surrounded by four writhing forms, and if the fact that their heads were nearly severed from their bodies was anything to go by, they were probably dead. Frankie, who had moved further into the hut in his rampage, had just turned to congratulate Alex upon their success when he saw an unrecognized form at the opening of the hut. Obviously an extra guard that they had missed on their reconnoiter a few nights earlier, the man held an automatic rifle pointed directly at Alex's slender back. Seemingly in slow motion, Frankie watched as the man squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shots was deafening in the silence, and the flashes of flame from the muzzle blinding in the darkness, but they provided enough light for Frankie to notice the point of an arrow emerge from the mans chest exactly where his heart would be. The bullets zinged harmlessly off the roof timbers as the man fell.

The gunshots clearly ended the need for silence, and Jose yelled to check if everyone was OK. Although it took several seconds for Alex and Frankie to realize that they were still alive, they responded positively, and Greta moved into the clearing also, still a little tentatively. They all checked the surrounding shadows. but nothing else appeared to move.

The whole attack had taken less than two minutes from beginning to end. In that time six people were dead, three had just killed a man for the first time, and two of those had a young girl with a bow to thank that they too were not dead. Alex looked at Greta with new respect, and as the rush of adrenalin receded, he felt a deep urge to love this girl.

“The noise of the shots could have wakened the world, take up defensive positions and do not move till dawn.” The words came from the boy Jose, but to his audience, they came from their leader. They obeyed without question, except that Greta chose a position close to her hero.

As the light of dawn spread through the gloom of the forest, Jose jumped up, “time to get on with it. We have work to do.” The others rose without argument, and set to work. They dragged the bodies of the dead cadres, now cold and stiff, deep into the forest after having stripped them of their fatigues, weapons, any jewelry, and cash. They cleaned up the blood, and donned the captured clothes. By noon the four were transformed into images of the men they had dispatched during the night, right down to the shiny sunglasses.

Two nights later was full moon, and Jose knew the cadre had to deliver the months production of raw cocaine to the plane that landed in the clearing several miles deeper in the forest. He had watched the process several times before, and knew that the people on the plane wanted only to get back into the sky. Even so he was surprised when he and Alex were accepted with a hurried “where’s Hector”.

“He’s in the village bedding his girl.” Jose had never known the man’s name, “He told me to watch you because you always short him on the weight.” The man looked up wryly, threw the cartons of cocaine onto the plane and counted out fourteen hundred dollars. “That’s more than its worth. Will I see you next month.”

No more questions, no more problems. Jose realized these were not people persons. Do your job, watch your back, help everyone else watch theirs, and make their share of the riches, and you would make yours. Jose determined to follow those rules, with one small rider, he would make sure that his share grew until it was larger than anyone else's, much larger. If anyone didn't like that, they would get nothing, nothing, that is, except an unmarked shallow grave.