DESTINO HAD A dream. He saw himself seated on a gigantic bus that wove through dark alleys. The other passengers didn’t speak to him. They looked at him with disgust.
He asked the conductor where they were headed, but he couldn’t speak. He just stared and kept driving. He felt like a steer going to slaughter. A woman looked at him and asked:
“Son, what gang are you from? Do the hand sign, which one?”
“This one, this one!” said Destino frantically, signing the MS salute.
The woman looked at him with pity.
“Son, everyone here is an 18. All of them.”
He took off running and found himself surrounded by walls confirming the same: here, Barrio 18 rules. Suddenly, hundreds of gangsters descended. From everywhere. The roofs, the doors, the ground. Destino whimpered with fear and ran for it, but anywhere he went he was surrounded. When he awoke, it was 4 a.m. and he was alone.
The war grows more intense, and daily life has become a pressure cooker. Guanacos Criminales Salvatrucha did not let Calazo’s death go unavenged. It is no longer just GCS in the fight. Other regional clicas have allied with them. The same goes for Barrio 18.
Yesterday around 2 p.m. in Zacamíl, Barrio 18 turf, several people crowded around a TV. They were watching a Spanish La Liga soccer match. Real Madrid was facing its archenemy, Barcelona. The TV was in an alleyway. Cable is expensive, unattainable for most, and the device drew youngsters like flies to a corpse. Before Messi could strike his first goal, two men got out of a car, walked stealthily toward the group, and unleashed a hellfire of bullets. Then they claimed their feat, and left.
After the attack, victims crawled through puddles of blood in the street. There were eleven total, among them two little girls and an eighty-year-old woman. On TV, Messi ran across the field as the bullets echoed throughout the neighborhood. The wounded are in the hospital. Surprisingly, none has died. However, one has bullets in his lungs, near his heart, and the doctors say he will be dead soon. He is from Barrio 18, his name is Carlos, and those who were shot up are his family members. Five other men are in critical condition, all from the gang.
In the last neighborhood on the hill, at the youth center, Destino has company. It’s Isaías, his eldest son. He had him sent from Zacamíl several days ago. He thinks it is safer for the boy to be with his father, in one of the MS strongholds.
The clica protects Destino. He may have lost power after focusing on running the bakery and refusing to lead Guanacos Criminales Salvatrucha. However, he is well regarded. He shared a cell with the higher-ups and risked his life in the most brutal prison fights. Besides, he’s still the storyteller. It is to the bakery that Little Down sends the young to listen to Mara history. It is Destino who tattoos them with his homemade gun. It may be that Guanacos Criminales Salvatrucha do not listen to him like they used to, but he is still revered. At the end of the day, they know he was one of the first men to wear the two letters on his body.
Little Down has ordered them to send a TV to the bakery to keep Isaías entertained. The boy spends his time with his father, watching him bake bread. If either of them wants to leave, they are escorted by one of the Guanacos. They know if anything happens to him, the escort will have to answer to several clicas for letting the legendary Destino die.
People in the community are nervous. The attempted massacre in Zacamíl dominates the news, and rumors fly. Omens of war. They say Barrio 18 has attacked other clicas near MS-13 in an unbridled attempt to gain control. They said they have sworn to get those MS fuckers down off the hill.
The police patrols, as ever, fail to catch anyone. They scribble notes at the scene of the crime and stroll around with their automatic weapons.
The gang wars pretend to be simple while hiding a wealth of complexity. If you watch closely, their logic becomes clearer. You attack, then wait for a response. That is how the game is played. Each time is worse. Each blow is answered.