End of Women: Part Four

Segador

Oh, segador!
Como un viento sin piedad soplas!
A través de esta tierra,
A través de esta tierra,
Reaper hombre,
¿cómo estás?

Oh, segador!
¡En la llanura cazas a tu presa!
Mano justa
Mano justa¡
Ataca a mujeres y niñas!

¿Tienes tetas suaves?
¡El segador viene por ti!
¿Te bañas en aceite blanco?
¡El segador viene por ti!
¿Te acuclillas cuando orinas?
¡El segador viene por ti!
El Reaper viene por ti, ahora, ¡sí!


Carlos DeMontoya rounded off his resonant explosion of music with a twangling, mournful fade-away, then stepped aside, brushing his long moustache with the eye-fire of a man filled with pride in his work, daring any to compete with him. For the briefest of moments Alex thought of an old-time rodeo clown, staring down the bull.

The bull, in this case, was not one but many. Between the sandy walls of the lamp-lit audience chamber there were nearly a hundred men, all silent and staring. Not one of them applauded Carlos' song, but they had kept their eyes on him throughout. It might have been rapture or insult; Alex could not tell.

In the middle of them, seated on a wooden plinth, was a man named Alejandro Corros. He was Mestizo and proud, arms corded with muscle that he made great pains - literally - to demonstrate through the rips in his shirt, each one of them accompanied by a deep serrated scar in the flesh beneath. He meant for Alex and Carlos to see it, for sure, but all Alex thought of it was that it was more likely the warlord had done it to himself. It was an accessory, just like the bone necklace fashioned to look as if it were made from shards of human skull, but was probably a mixture of sheep and steer. He was a prima donna, a man playing at war, and for Alex that was enough to want nothing to do with him.

'Your jester plays well,' Corros spoke in Spanish. 'I should have him play at my daughter's birthday party.'

All the  men on Corros' side of the room laughed. Carlos DeMontoya bristled his moustache angrily.

'Thank you for your audience, Senor Corros.' Alex inclined his head. The sun was dipping below the horizon and it was time to get to business. 'Our patient wait for your arrival was no more than your reputation has earned.'

Corros sneered through sharpened yellow teeth.

'The gringo does not know one word of Spanish.' Corros went on, still speaking his first tongue, but this time strictly to his generals. Each one of them had imitated their Master's style, all pompously decorated in those things that they believed made humans afraid; shark teeth, eyeballs, bloodstains and sharp things. Not all of them were humans, either; Alex fixed his eyes on two female members of Corros' little band. They stuck out a mile away, half a foot shorter than the others and slighter of feature, they had packed their black cloaks with padding and stood permanently with folded arms and forced scowls. Alex had to suppress a laugh.

'If we may,' Alex went on, 'I believe your company and mine can do well together.'

Corros spat out a belch of mirth again.

'Your company?!' He spoke in English this time, pointing between Alex and Carlos as his men doubled over, holding their stomachs. 'This is help I need?!'

'I represent the Arrowhead Society.'

At this, all laughter ceased. Corros' smile disappeared. Some of the men looked worried, others angry, most of them simply curious. The two females in the group furrowed their brows and seethed with fury.

'Arrowhead.' Corros brushed his chin. 'This is not as I heard.'

'Forgive me, Senor.' Alex bowed once again. 'I did not introduce myself properly to your Generals, clearly. Your revolution in Mexico has gained the attention of many North of the border. Your successes against the army, the insurgents and the other rebel-dogs have been too great to ignore. We believe our companies can be united; your manpower can be combined with our resources.'

Alex let his eyes drift to the women again. Yeah, I said manpower.

Corros stuck out a hand to one of his adjutants and was given a beer bottle. He took a deep swig, moved the liquid around in his mouth, and then spat it onto the floor.

'Your offer is tempting.' He said with gravel in his voice. 'But I cannot work with you. Your company hates women, and I have women in my company. How would such a thing work?'

The two females shot smug looks at Alex. He kept his eyes on Corros.

'An agreement can be made.' Alex replied simply.

'My men have wives, families at home. It is why they fight for me, for the glorious communist revolution that has been too long coming to Mexico! They fight to make better lives for themselves and their families. You would take that away from them? When I sleep, I sleep beside five beautiful women, all of them my wives. This is why I need a big tent, the biggest in the camp. I need the room!' He barked with laughter again and his men followed suit. 'You would take their pleasure away from me? I do not think so, gringo. I think you need to leave this place, and leave Mexico. Your blood may be from here, but your mind is the mind of a gringo. Go have your plastic women and fuck little boys, that is what you are good for!'

Alex sighed, bowed once more, and then said, 'Thank you for your time, Senor.'

He led Carlos out of the audience chamber and out into the night. The sky was now sparkling with stars and a balmy heat was in the air. The huge camp of the Communista sprawled out from one end of the valley to the other. Men turned pigs on spits and played cards in the dirt. More than one other female soldier walked past the two of them as they stood there. Carlos turned to Alex.

'You gave up very soon, Mendez. He was only seeing how you react.'

'I know.' Alex cracked his neck and made for the outskirts of the camp.

'Did you really espect him to join with us? He is a traitor to your cause, is he not?'

'In so many ways. And no, I did not expect him to. I just wanted to know one thing.'

Carlos stopped alongside Alex and watched him take a cup of water from a makeshift bar.

'What did you want to know?'

Alex drained the cup and felt the stain of the meeting slowly fade away.

'Where he sleeps.'