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“Send the Ospreys,” said Cam. “Get as many men on board as we can spare and stop those men from coming across. Hover above that river in plain sight, then engage the stealth. They’ll either run or be tempted to shoot.”
“Are we hoping for one or the other?” asked Hiro.
“We’re hoping they’ll shoot,” said Cam. “If they do, we fire back and solve this issue on more than a few fronts. The cartel members will be gone, and hopefully, Quetz as well. The valid migrants will be free to move back if they feel safe enough to do so.”
“Another discussion for a different day,” said Luke. “For now, get to the choppers. We have to stop those men from crossing the river.”
Three Ospreys were hovering above the border, staring straight at the men under the control of Quetzalcoatl. He wore a colorful robe and headdress.
“What the hell is he wearing?” frowned Cam.
“It’s an Aztec costume,” said Razor, staring at the image of the man below. “He’s telling the world that he is the god Quetzalcoatl and cannot be defeated.”
“Well, he’s about to be proven wrong,” growled Luke. “Give me the mic.” Savannah turned back toward him with a raised eyebrow.
“Luke Robicheaux, this might be a tense situation, but you still know your manners.”
“Sorry, Aunt Savannah. Can you please hand me the mic?” She grinned, handing him the device.
“Luke, let me,” said Razor. “Most of those men down there probably only speak Spanish. I’ll speak. Abe can translate for anyone who doesn’t understand.”
¡Escúchame!
“Listen to me,” repeated Abe into the comms system. “Quetzalcoatl is nothing more than a man. A man with a vision that will lead to death for all of you and wealth for him. He is not a god. You will not win this.
“America is not at war with you. He is attempting to control you. Do not do this.”
The conversation paused as Quetz moved to the front of the crowd. He screamed at them to be gone as if they were a pestilence of some sort. What he didn’t expect was the wall of muscle standing on the other side of the river.
Noah, Noa, Rory, Merrick, Trevor, Titus, Max, Zeke, Eli, Carter, Fitz, and Chris looked as though they were made of stone. Modern-day terra-cotta warriors in their impenetrable gear, with their intimidating weapons.
Quetz stared at the men and realized he had inadvertently lured the sleeping giant to his location. There was a moment of panic. You could see it. He was contemplating running, but if he were to save face, keep his god-like status, he would need to stand tall. Turning, he ordered the men to fire on the choppers.
Before one bullet could leave the weapons, stealth was engaged, and the Ospreys disappeared. Dozens of men gasped, dropping their weapons and running back into the woods, believing they’d angered a far more powerful god.
Quetz screamed at them, ordering them back to the lines, but the men only ran. When the Ospreys reappeared, he gave the order again. One that sealed all of their fates.
As bullets flew unyielding at the birds, the men only watched with the sad realization that these men would lose their lives today. They seemed to have forgotten the dozen men on the other side of the river, now skillfully making their way to the Mexico side. The border patrol guards and agents turned their backs. They saw nothing.
With the hopes of capturing Quetz and not killing dozens of men who were only trying to make a living for their families, they waited until the bullets stopped. Hearing the crowd’s gasps and cries that the helicopters must be from more powerful gods, the VG team unleashed at their feet. Immediately, almost everyone dropped their own weapons. Those that didn’t met their fate at the shores of a river they believed held their future hope.
“Leave,” said Razor in Spanish. “Leave, and your lives will be spared.”
All but one left. All but one ran. Quetz stood in his colorful coat and headdress. Perhaps he was delusional, believing he truly was an Aztec god. Rory stood in front of him, looking down at the smaller man. He gripped the headdress at the base, squeezing it tightly, and Quetz’s face sunk.
Holding the headdress tightly, Rory tossed it to the ground, watching as the snakes scurried away. When Max ripped the robe from his shoulders, the snakes on his arms hissed, arching their heads toward their potential victims.
Instead, Noah gripped them, squeezing their heads. The poisonous serpents squirmed, begging for life, but Noah was not to be deterred. When they stopped moving, he threw them at Quetz’s feet and stepped back.
“I know who you are,” he whispered.
“Where is Wolford?” asked Abe.
“His niece belongs to me. Bring her to me, and I will tell you where he is.” Abe stepped forward, thrusting a large knife beneath the man’s chin.
“Better idea. You tell me where he is, and I won’t cut your head off and post it on a spike to ward off your fucking evil.”
He’d underestimated these men. He’d underestimated their skill, their technology, and, more than anything, their desire to protect the girl and find her uncle. The gods were not in his favor, and he was going to lose the day.
