Mexico, outside El Venado town-
Mexico, outside El Venado town-Mexico, outside El Venado town-Day broke over the landscape as I strolled out of a red, rusted pickup truck. I stopped a distance away from the vehicle; my hands were out in the air as an approaching group caught sight of me. They hurried towards me with weapons drawn.
Dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, a cowboy hat shaded my head from the sun above, and a pair of sunglasses covered my eyes.
“I’m unarmed,” I said, with an unlit cigarette between my lips.
The Mexican thugs came up. They were a ragged-looking bunch with dirty hair and thick mustaches. They were holding Uzis, while the large belt buckles below their bellies did their best to hold up their pants.
“Jack. Well, well,” one of the uglie
