“Who is going to be the nextsicario?” El Charro greeted the recruits who had just got off the truck.
“You?” He put his gun under a boy’s chin and forced it up.
“You?” He walked over to the next one. “Or are you going to end up in there today?” He pointed to the black garbage bags that had been placed by each recruit’s feet. “Let’s see, shall we?”
He put a shiny blade in the boy’s hand and pointed to one of the prisoners. “Bring me his ear, Eduardo.”
Eduardo walked up to the man, who was tied to a chair. His face was pock-marked with cigarette burns that were still healing over.
“What are you waiting for?” El Charro waved his gun.
“Which one do you want?” asked Eduardo. “The left ear or the right?”
El Charro’s laughter mingled with the man’s whimpers. “I like you, Eduardo.” He surveyed the prisoner, tilting his head one way then another. “I’ll take the left one.”
Eduardo delivered. El Charro held up the man’s ear while his screams filled the room. “And that’s how it’s done.” he said, parading the mutilated ear before the rest of the boys. Eduardo took a seat beside Comandante 19.
One by one, El Charro tested the recruits. He gave them hammers to smash knees, acid to burn skin, buckets and rags for water torture. For those two hours, the small gray room in the isolated mountains turned into a hellish initiation ceremony. El Charro stole the souls of each and every one of those boys. He was the devil and he was forging them in fire and blood and brimstone.
When he got to the boy standing next to Rafael, he handed him a loaded gun.
“That one.” He pointed to a woman who was curled up on the floor, terrorized by the wailing and screaming around her.
The boy pointed the gun, but couldn’t bring himself to shoot. He tried again as she squirmed on the ground, her wrists tied behind her back.
“El Charro—” said the boy.
Before he could say another word, El Charro shot him point blank in the chest. He tumbled sideways and fell on the woman. El Charro walked over to the body, removed the tip of his cane and stamped a blood red ‘C’ on him. Comandante 19 dragged his body away and stuffed it into a garbage bag.
“You.” El Charro handed the gun to Rafael. It was still warm from the other boy’s fingers. “Finish her off.”
Rafael stepped forward.
“Por favor,” the woman pleaded.
Rafael raised the gun and took aim. Beads of sweat formed on his brow.
Damian clenched his fists. He knew Rafael was reliving the horror of Juan Pablo and Camila’s deaths. He knew there was no protecting Rafael from this one.
“I can’t.” Rafael lowered the gun.
Damian was torn. A part of him wanted Rafael to shoot, to save his own life, and the other part was relieved. Rafael had stood up to the darkness. El Charro had not been able to corrupt him.
“Damian.” El Charro took the gun from Rafael and gave it to him. “Shoot the boy.” He waved his cane at Rafael.
Damian went deathly still.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?Chingatelo—fuck him over!”
Damian realized that he had gotten away with protecting Rafael all this time because El Charro had allowed it, becausethiswas the test El Charro had set up for him—to kill Rafael, the only person he’d grown close to in the whole group. El Charro wanted to empty him of all emotions, all entanglements. He didn’t want hissicariosto flinch or hesitate or question his orders. If Damian did this now, if he killed Rafael, he would prove himself to El Charro. He would get close enough to avenge MaMaLu. Andthatwas the only thing that had kept Damian going so far.
Damian raised the gun. Tears were streaming down Rafael’s face, but he held his ground. He knew Damian had no choice. If he didn’t do as El Charro commanded, they would both lose their lives.
“Rafael.” Damian stared down the barrel of the gun. “How many grams of cocaine can I get for a thousand pesos?”
Rafael looked at him, confused.
“Answer the question,” said Damian.
