Gomez started as several pairs of headlights came on but quickly returned to his taciturn rapport with the natural camouflage around him. There were no anchors to his nervousness but to move would’ve taken a fire. He was deathly still as the spotlights played their game of tag amidst the headlights stoicism. He matched the headlights and held steady, if anything could have gotten him to move it wouldn’t have been the itch developing in his eyes and down his sides and back.
Gomez gave no movement to the sound of a diesel engine working up the hill then halting. The voices weren’t carrying right now, so all Gomez could hear in the straining stillness was a man guffawing.
He lay in that position another fifteen minutes before he looked in the direction of where the voices came from, three flashlights and a spotlight moved down into the flatland, he instinctively jerked his eyes away from them. It was a remnant of his childhood, kid’s logic: “if I can’t see them, then they can’t see me”. There was no time to waste and not much that could be done in that moment. Gomez slightly checked his feet to see if they were covered but tattered New Balances jutted out in muted tones. He was moving quickly to get them under some moss or something that would keep them well hidden from the prying flashlights of the American’s.
He slipped and kicked a bush, it shook slightly.
The four men made their way to the end of the hill.
“Alright, Mr. Mason, you and Mr. Ben wait here with the spotlight.” the younger border agent said this with a little apprehension. He hadn’t been on a call with the Minute Men before and wasn’t sure if they were as hands-on as the news reports were saying.
Mason stopped and looked at Ben, he turned his eyes to the young man who was eyeing them despite the headlights and spotlights. Mason nodded.
The young man walked into the flatland and had to navigate his way around the scrub brushes. After several minutes he got to the well lighted area where the person or people were supposed to be. He looked around, squatted, got up, walked around the area in ten foot circles with his partner.
The Minute Men looked on from the top of the hill unwaveringly albeit nervously and hoped that the illegals hadn’t given the slip. It seemed impossible considering how lit up the place was.
After two circles one of the border agents gave a call to the other and he ducked down into what looked like a hole, they both scuttled about without too much struggle. The Minute Men gave a whoop and high-fived each other.
At the bottom of the hill Mason and Ben looked on eagerly and got ready to make a run to help the border agents if the drug smugglers tried to put up any struggle. Mason fingered his 9mm pistol.
At the top of the hill one of the Minute Men removed his .308 with a scope and lay down in the dirt like he had been trained to do so many years ago. He leveled his scope on the agents. They were moving quickly but not so that he couldn’t keep his sights.
He aimed at their hands until they hoisted a man up off of his knees.