Journey Through Fear and Hope

(Kelly's POV)

The cargo boat groaned as it docked, its hull heavy with the weight of its contents. A group of men disembarked, their presence immediately altering the atmosphere of the camp.

"¡Hola, hermano!" The first man off the boat bellowed, his voice echoing across the camp. He was a mountain of a man, bald and round, with a large roll of what appeared to be tobacco weed in his hand.

Diego turned to me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Meet Carlos, our ticket out of here."

Carlos and Diego embraced, their laughter filling the air. "It's been too long, Diego," Carlos said, his voice thick with emotion.

Carlos then turned his attention to Rashad, who was standing at a distance. "And you must be Rashad," he said, extending a hand towards him. "I've heard a lot about you."

Rashad took a step forward, shaking Carlos' hand. "I wish I could say the same."

As I watched this unfold, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The arrival of these men signaled a change, a shift in the dynamics of our situation. But as Diego said, they were our tickets out of here, however not like I have another choice I just have to abide by whatever I get from all this.

Carlos broke the silence, his voice booming across the camp. "Diego, my brother, it's been too long!" He turned to me, his gaze appraising. "And who is this?"

Diego wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. "This is our newest recruit," he said, his voice filled with pride.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Is that so? Well, welcome to the family."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

Carlos then turned his attention to Rashad, who was standing at a distance. "Rashad..." He called out his name but did not finish what he was saying.

Rashad stepped forward, his gaze locked with Carlos'. "Vamos," he said, his voice steady. The word hung in the air - 'Let's go.'

Carlos nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Así es, hermano. Vamos." That's right, brother. Let's go.

One by one, we climbed onto the boat, the wooden planks creaking under our weight. The engine roared to life, and we began to sail away from the camp.

Diego turned to me, his eyes softening. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, forcing a smile onto my face. "I'm fine," I lied, my heart pounding in my chest.

Carlos clapped his hands together, drawing our attention. "Alright, everyone. We have a long journey ahead of us. Let's make the most of it."

Rashad turned to Carlos, his voice laced with concern. "Espero que las rifles estén listas. Los Zetas están en nuestra ruta de escape. En cuanto se enteren de que llegamos, será la guerra." I hope the rifles are ready. The Zetas are on our escape route. As soon as they find out we're coming, it's going to be war.

Carlos chuckled, a glint in his eyes. "No te preocupes, Rashad. Tenemos todo bajo control." Don't worry, Rashad. We have everything under control. He walked over to a seemingly ordinary cupboard and swung it open, revealing an arsenal of weapons that I had only seen in war films.

My eyes widened at the sight. "Wow," I breathed out, unable to hide my surprise. "You guys are really prepared."

Carlos turned to me, a smirk playing on his lips. "In our line of work, it's better to be over-prepared than under-prepared."

I found myself staring at Carlos, the bald, rotund man who seemed more like a character from a gangster movie than a real person. The sight of the rifles in the cupboard was overwhelming, and I couldn't help but wonder just how many there were.

Diego nudged me gently, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Don't be scared," he said, his voice soft. "We'll be fine."

I forced a smile, nodding at his words. But inside, I was far from convinced. How could we be fine with all those rifles and the Zetas coming for us? It didn't look good.

But then, I looked at Diego. Despite everything, he was a nice guy, at least nicer than Rashad, my so-called boyfriend.

As the hours passed, the men filled the air with their laughter and chatter, their voices muffled by the sound of the boat's engine. Diego sat next to me, his gaze never leaving my face. I could feel my cheeks heating up under his stare, but I quickly looked away, not wanting to give away my feelings.

Suddenly, the captain's voice cut through the noise. "Estamos llegando a Monterrey," he announced. We're arriving at Monterrey.

The news sent a chill down my spine. It was already dark, and I found myself scanning the riverbanks, half-expecting to see someone waiting for us with a big gun. But there was nothing. Just the silent, dark riverbanks.

One of the men pulled out a telescope, scanning the area. "No veo nada," he said, his voice filled with relief. I don't see anything.

Rashad was holding onto a Barrett M82, a semi-automatic sniper rifle that was far more dangerous than an AK-47. The weight of the weapon in his hands was a grim reminder of the danger they were in.

Carlos, with a smirk on his face, said, "Well, brother, I guess this is a safe trip after all." He clapped Diego on the back, his laughter echoing in the night.

Diego nodded, his eyes still on the riverbanks. "Yes, it seems so," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then turned to me, his gaze softening. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

I nodded, trying to believe his words. But the fear was still there, gnawing at me. The boat continued to sail, the dark water of the river reflecting the moonlight. The silence was deafening, only broken by the occasional splash of water against the boat.

But then Rashad's voice cut through the silence. "Stay on guard, everyone. We're not safe until we're off this boat and far away from here." His words sent a shiver down my spine, reminding us all of the danger that could be lurking in the shadows.

Just as Rashad finished his sentence, the air was filled with the sound of swift bullets. Four men fell immediately, one of them landing in my arms. It was Diego. His body was limp, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. I felt a pang of sorrow, but there was no time to mourn.

Carlos, despite being hit, managed to crawl to the cupboard. "Everyone, stay on guard!" he shouted, his voice strained with pain. He opened the cupboard and the men started taking their weapons.

I was laying low, soaked in Diego's blood. Rashad, on the other hand, was standing tall, firing at anyone his sharp eyes caught in the dark. When Carlos got up to start his fire, he got shot in the leg and fell to the floor, but he continued to shoot.

The boat was a scene of chaos and fear. I was scared, terrified even.

Suddenly, a voice from the riverbanks cut through the chaos. "¡Vámonos de aquí!" Let's get out of here! It seemed they were retreating. But if they were retreating, that meant they were likely going to call for reinforcements.

The boat was stagnant. The captain was in a dilemma, unsure whether to proceed towards the riverbanks of Monterrey or to turn back and abandon the trip. The tension was palpable.

Rashad, once standing tall, now sat down weakly, resting his back against the side of the boat. He looked defeated, his plans had failed. He didn't approach Diego's lifeless body, nor did he come close to me, his girlfriend, who was holding onto Diego and weeping.

Carlos, despite being shot in the leg, was still firing his weapon, his face contorted in pain and determination. "We can't give up now!" he shouted over the sound of gunfire.

I clung to Diego's body, my tears mixing with his blood.

When the gunfire ceased, Carlos dropped his gun, his hands shaking. "Diego, no…!!" he screamed, his voice choked with grief. He fell to his knees beside Diego's lifeless body, his hands reaching out to touch his brother's cold face.

He then turned to Rashad, his eyes filled with anger and sorrow. "This is all your fault!" he shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Rashad.

Rashad just looked away, a cold look on his face. He didn't say a word, his silence echoing louder than any words he could have said. The boat was silent, the only sound was the soft lapping of the water against the boat and the distant cries of the retreating men.

I held onto Diego, my tears falling onto his lifeless face. The reality of the situation was sinking in. Diego was gone, and we were left in the aftermath of the chaos.