El Cayo
...continued
“We don’t recognize any Mexican or Mayan government. In these parts we are the law.” The leader iterated in a stern empyrean voice. We simply stood motionless, frozen by the realization that we were in a real fix. But the boat we had requested the night before could be heard descending the Usumacinta River. We could pack our equipment, gather our belongings and be out in a matter of minutes. We began to collect out things only to learn that the boat had been dispatched by the armed Mayans. Matt dropped his gear were he stood and seemed to contemplate futility. We heard our salvation motor off and just when we thought it couldn’t get grimmer, another seventy Mayans materialized from the jungle. They told us that they were direct descendants of the Mayans who built the altar.
“And there’s no way we’re gonna let you deface it.” The chieftain assured. They ordered us to recover the altar and seal it with cement. They ordered us to give them money to buy cement from a local village. While we waited for the cement to arrive one of our Mayans exchanged harsh words with our captors. I tried to go over and resolve the situation but Matt held me back. I watched as they dragged one of our workers off noisily tied him to a tree and converged on him in an unearthly manner, and we never saw him again. His horrified screams echoed his eulogy.
The cement arrived as the sun began to fall. It shone wonderfully with a demonic red glow that could be seen reflecting off the Usumacita River further down stream. With the cement more men followed, this time carrying rifles and AK-47s. They came out of the jungle in a more aggressive way and told Matt who originally gave them the money that they needed more. We were shocked and huddled together to collect only $800 more pesos. We had lost count of how many Mayans had gathered around us and the sun was fading fast in the west; and as the bloody sun fell and gave way to darkness, extortion turned into all out piracy. We were stripped of our equipment, food and supplies. They even stole the boots off our feet, leaving us only in our under clothes. The situation began to feel hopeless as we stood closely together. I contemplated pleading with our captors but with darkness fully upon us I didn’t know whom to address. They ravaged our belongings mostly interested in our clothing and gear. I saw the opening we used to get here and contemplated making a break for it. One of the Mayans came up to us, and seeing we had nothing left, motioned us to leave. We quickly glanced at each other making sure we all understood the same thing, the bolted towards the opening.
Each step hurt at first but our fears shut out the pain as we tore through the heavy bush. Just as we though we were out of there we heard gun shots. Reaching the bank of the Usumacinta bullets whizzed past us and we stood frozen in our tracks. We turned to face the bandits who descended out of the jungle like hungry wolves in close pursuit of their pray. The smaller group of five or so seemed to be even more dangerous as there were fewer witnesses. They lined us up along the bank, their guns trained on us. A couple of them walked up to me, being the first in line and stared me down, his eyes a fearsome glow. I glared back searching for the confidence I once exhumed, but found none left. Abandoned by confidence and accompanied by fear he lifted his gun above his head. The blows came swiftly as I was knocked to the ground. Flashes of light seemed to be the last thing I would see as they beat and kicked me.
When I came to it was still dark and the air was still. I was excited to feel the pain shoot through my body; at least I wasn’t dead. I turned my head to see that nobody was exempt from their gracious affections. My innards hurt and my testicles still throbbed with pain and I lay there curled up sobbing to myself before I gained the strength and courage to see if my comrades escaped with the same fortune I had. Struggling to my feet I was bleeding everywhere. I stumbled towards Matt to see him still breathing and the others as well. It took some time for all of them to get back to their feet. We examined each other: Costa Anaya had a badly broken nose, Anesto Corzon had internal bleeding and needed immediate medical attention, Matt Peters suffered a few broken ribs and had trouble breathing, Brom Cosat and the rest of us had less serious injuries. I was bleeding from the eyes and it was difficult to see. Night was beginning to give way to day and we decided to get as far away from EL Cayo as possible before the bandits and the Mayans change their minds and decide we are better off dead. Matt, Costa and I decided we should cross the Usumacinta into Guatemala, however our Mayan friends urged us to cross the farm fields. We argued. The Usumacinta was a fast moving river which could get very deep suddenly with engulfing undertows, besides Brom couldn’t swim. Few have ever tried to swim across, and in our weakened condition it would be exponentially difficult. The alternative had us roaming through farm fields where we could be easy pray for trigger happy Mayans. We agreed to split up, the Mayans and the government officials would trek through the farm fields while the rest of us would face the raging river.
to be continued...
