pjbooks Chapter 261 Fortune's wheel turns, even the old Mo has his day.
Chapter 261 Fortune's wheel turns, even the old Mo has his day.
El Paso, Texas.
The Rio Grande, the river that separates the two countries, was once the dream destination for countless Mexican migrants.
For years, barbed wire, patrols, drones—the US has used every means at its disposal to prevent people from the south from fleeing north.
but now……
The north bank of the river was teeming with people.
They're not Mexicans, they're Americans.
White, black, brown, male, female, old, young.
Some were wearing pajamas, some were carrying suitcases, some were holding children, and some were walking dogs.
At this moment, they have only one goal...
Cross the river and run south, the farther the better.
They left behind the free country they once thought they had.
"Don't push! Don't shove!"
A young man in a border patrol uniform was trying to maintain order, but his gun was out of bullets and he was also planning to run away.
The crowd was in complete chaos, with cries, curses, and the wailing of babies all mixed together.
Some people have already jumped into the Grand River without a care in the world. The water is a bit cold this time of year, but nobody cares.
However, shortly after the group jumped into the river, the sight on the other side filled them with despair.
On the opposite bank of the river, a row of pickup trucks appeared, lying across the embankment, with heavy machine guns mounted in their cargo beds.
A dozen burly men in brightly colored shirts stood on the riverbank, holding various weapons.
They are not the Mexican military.
They are drug lords.
To be precise, they are members of the newly established "Border Guardians Alliance".
The leader was a man with a large beard wearing a cowboy hat, a gold chain around his neck, and two gold-plated pistols at his waist.
His name is Miguel, and he is the brother-in-law of a second-tier drug lord in Sinaloa. He is in charge of the defense of this section of the border within the alliance.
Miguel, a cigar dangling from his lips, watched the surging Americans from the opposite bank with a complex expression on his face.
How so?
It has a magical feel that I never dared to imagine.
"Hey, boss," one of his men chimed in, "they're still charging this way. What do we do?"
Miguel exhaled a puff of smoke: "Follow the rules."
"What are the rules?"
"The rules of the league."
Miguel drew a gold-plated pistol from his waist and fired a shot into the air.
"Anyone without a quarantine certificate will not be allowed to enter the country!"
Quarantine certificate?
Just kidding?
Miguel firing into the air had a temporary effect.
But when they thought of the terrible state of the free country, the crowd paused briefly for two seconds before continuing to surge forward.
Fear drove them; the monster behind them was more terrifying than the gun barrel in front of them.
And they didn't believe that these people would really be so ruthless as to open fire.
"Haha, how come the wheel of fortune keeps turning?"
A younger drug lord standing next to Miguel scoffed.
"Boss, they used to not let us enter the country."
"Times have changed, kid."
Miguel shook his head upon hearing this.
"My cousin used to spend $50,000 to hire a smuggler to cross the border, and he worked illegally at a chicken farm in Texas for three years. Now look at this, these people are practically begging us to let them go."
As they were talking, some people had already swum to the middle of the river.
Miguel's smile vanished. He picked up the walkie-talkie.
"Attention, everyone. Warning fire, fire on the area ten meters in front of the water. Do not shoot people, but do not let them come ashore."
"receive!"
The machine gun fired.
The bullet hit the water's surface, creating a jet of water.
The swimmers were so frightened that they all stopped swimming. Some swam back, while others thrashed about in the water, covering their heads.
A desperate howl erupted from the crowd on the north bank.
"Please! Let us cross!" A woman holding a child knelt on the riverbank, her voice hoarse. "We are not monsters! We are human beings!"
Miguel stood on the south bank, a cigar in his mouth, and said nothing.
His subordinate glanced at him and said, "Boss... how about..."
"don't want."
Miguel's voice lowered.
"The orders are that no one can be let in unless their safety can be confirmed. You know those monsters can parasitize people, right? Letting one in will mean total doom."
He took off his cigar and looked at the crying crowd on the north bank.
"When they were building the wall, did they ever imagine things would turn out this way?"
No one answered him.
Miguel put the cigar back in his mouth and turned to walk toward the pickup truck.
"Keep an eye on things, and call me when it's time to change shifts."
"Boss, what if they try to break through?"
Miguel stopped walking without turning around.
"Then stop hitting the water. Hit people."
After saying that, he climbed into the passenger seat of the pickup truck and closed the door.
Through the car window, he could still see the densely packed crowds on the north bank.
Who would have thought...
Americans are illegally immigrating to Mexico.
If this were made into a movie, the script wouldn't dare to be written like this.
Miguel took out his phone and scrolled through the alliance's group chat. The border officials from various sections were all giving reports…
"In the Tijuana area, 20,000 people gathered and have been warned to disperse."
"In the Nogales section, someone attempted to drive through the checkpoint; the vehicle has been destroyed, and the situation is under control."
"The situation is most serious in Laredo, with more than 50,000 refugees. We are short-handed and request reinforcements."
Miguel typed a few words and sent them: "Hold on, reinforcements are on their way."
Then he scrolled to another chat window, which was a private group of several big shots in the league.
The latest news comes from Carlos, the Sinaloa drug lord and the initiator of the alliance.
"Brothers, well done. Those government bastards are all holed up in their barracks now, too scared to come out. The entire northern border is on our shoulders."
Remember, this is our chance to clear our names. From now on, if anyone calls us drug dealers again, I'll throw this video in their face.
Below were a bunch of thumbs-up emojis.
After reading it, Miguel put his phone back in his pocket.
He didn't care about whether or not he could clear his name; he only knew one thing...
Previously, the US anti-drug agency chased them all over the mountains; now, those same anti-drug agents might be splashing around in the river across the river, ready to cross.
That's fucking ironic.
Meanwhile, about 200 kilometers east of El Paso, another armed conflict is escalating.
An armed group of about 300 former U.S. Army soldiers attempted to force their way across the border using armored vehicles.
They are not refugees, but deserters.
The leader of the team was a former sergeant named Williams.
Two days ago, his base was breached by the Shoggoth infected, and the command chain completely collapsed.
He led a platoon to break through the encirclement, and along the way he gathered some stragglers and civilians, bringing his numbers to three hundred.
"The border is 500 meters ahead."
Williams, sitting on the roof of the armored vehicle and holding binoculars, said, "I see a roadblock, and there are armed men."
"Is it the Mexican army?" the deputy asked.
"No. Judging from their clothes and appearance..." Williams put down his binoculars, his expression quite interesting. "They're drug lords."
"...What?"
"The people guarding the border are a gang of drug lords."
The deputy's face twitched.
"Sergeant, we have armored vehicles and weapons. Shall we charge in head-on?"
Williams did not answer immediately.
He raised his binoculars again and carefully observed the deployment on the other side—behind the roadblock, there were four pickup trucks equipped with heavy machine guns.
On a small hill further away, one can vaguely see someone operating a machine...
"It's a TOW anti-tank missile."
Williams put down the telescope.
The deputy was stunned: "Where did the drug lord get anti-tank missiles?"
"These guys have been smuggling arms for years. Do you think their warehouses only have pistols and AKs?"
"Now that the whole order is in chaos, these people are even more lawless..."
The deputy remained silent.
Williams was silent for half a minute, then made a decision that surprised everyone.
"Get out of the vehicle. Put the weapons on the roof."
"What?!"
"Put down your weapons." Williams jumped out of the armored vehicle. "I'll go talk to them."
"What are you talking about?"
"Let us go."
Williams took the pistol from his waist and threw it on the ground.
"I'm fucking a former U.S. Army sergeant, negotiating an entry permit with Mexican drug cartels."
He walked towards the border with heavy steps.
After taking a couple of steps, he turned back to look at the emaciated, terrified soldiers and civilians behind him.
"If I succeed in negotiating, we'll all go together. If I fail..."
He didn't say the second half of the sentence.
But everyone knows...
If negotiations fail, those monsters are behind them, and the drug lords' guns are in front of them.
There are wolves in front and tigers behind.
They were just a group of people abandoned by their own country.
Meanwhile, in Raccoon City.
The communication panel in the command center started flashing again.
Mark glanced at the source of the signal and frowned.
"Boss."
Lin Fan, who was studying the map, looked up and asked, "Hmm?"
"An unencrypted signal is attempting to access our communication channel."
"source?"
Mark glanced at the location data on the screen, his expression becoming somewhat subtle.
Cheyenne Mountain.
Lin Fan put down his pen and leaned back in his chair.
"Cheyenne Mountain?"
"Yes. It's the NORAD's backup channel."
Mark paused.
"If I remember correctly, that was a command center for the US government in a doomsday scenario."
Lin Fan and Lin Jianguo exchanged a glance.
Both of their expressions conveyed a subtle meaning...
Doomsday Command Center?
What are they trying to do?
"To answer or not to answer?" Mark asked.
Lin Fan did not answer immediately.
He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest a few times.
"catch."
After a long pause, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I'd like to hear what these people are planning to do."