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"Stop the car and bury him here!"

In the evening, as the sun set like blood, outside Mexico City, a black Dodge pickup truck stopped on the side of the road. The old brake system made a harsh friction sound.

Under the road is a lush green corn forest.

It was June and July, and the corn stalks had grown to more than one meter high. Clusters of black and red soft whiskers were exposed on the green corn ears, like the red curly hair of a French woman, with a hint of abstract sexiness.

"This is a good place to bury someone, Jesus, you really know how to choose a place."

Carlos jumped out of the car, looked at the cornfield in front of him and smiled.

"Stop talking nonsense, come and help!"

His companion Jesus was a silent middle-aged man. After getting out of the car, he took out a shovel from the bed of the pickup truck and threw it over.

"If you ask me, you should send the person to the foot of Mount Gulliver. There are hundreds of gray wolves there. I can guarantee that in less than one night, that guy will be eaten until nothing is left. Jesus,

Why don’t we try it?”

Carlos said excitedly, waving his hands.

His companion Jesus didn't answer, lit a cigarette, walked into the cornfield with a hoe, and dug a hole.

"Okay, okay, I'll listen to you, bury it here. I hope a few more corn cobs will grow here this year. I love roasted corn the most."

Carlos picked up the shovel and slammed it into the ground.

After a few minutes, a shallow hole two feet deep appeared on the ground.

"Is it too shallow? I'll be discovered next time when I dig the ground."

Carlos asked, wiping his sweat.

"You can keep digging."

His companion Jesus threw down his triangular hoe, returned to the butt of the pickup truck, and pulled a blood-stained sack from the top.

Uh-huh~

"Ah, Jesus, did you hear that? He seems to be not dead yet. What should we do if he is not dead? Should we open it and take a look?"

Carlos exclaimed.

"You heard wrong."

His companion Jesus dragged the sack towards the shallow pit.

"Look at Jesus, he's moving, he's struggling. He's really not dead. Could it be that the witch resurrected him? Will he become an undead and come to seek revenge on us?"

Carlos took a few steps back, holding the handle of the shovel, with fear in his eyes.

"Shut up, you loser!"

Jesus glared at him impatiently, raised his triangular hoe and pointed it at one end of the sack, and smashed it down hard.

Peng!

Just when it was about to hit, the sack rolled to the right, and a bloody hand stretched out from the mouth of the sack and firmly grasped the hoe.

"Ah, he became undead, and he came to us for revenge."

Carlos was so frightened that he sat down on the ground. He was horrified to see a man covered in blood stand up from the bag and kicked Jesus over.

Jesus fell to the ground and was about to take out his gun when he saw the bloody man quickly raised his hoe and hit Jesus on the head hard.

Phew~

Jesus tilted his head and became motionless as red liquid sprayed onto his face.

Carlos's crotch felt hot, so he got up and ran. He tripped over a corn stalk and fell to the ground.

He then saw the bloody man pick up the Glock pistol that originally belonged to Jesus from the ground, skillfully load the magazine and pull the safety.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, I didn't kill you, I didn't kill you..."

Carlos said incoherently.

"Spanish?"

The bloody man frowned slightly, "Where is this place?"

"It's outside Mexico City. I don't know where exactly. I'm from Veracruz and I just came to Mexico City. I haven't done anything bad..."

"Mexico?"

Duca looked at the moon in the sky, then at the corn forest in the distance and the dry air. It seemed that he had been to Mexico before. How could he be here?

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"Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?"

Duca asked.

"It's not that we want to kill you. Jesus and I followed Boss Ochoa to do things. Boss Ochoa took a fancy to your woman when he was shopping in the afternoon and wanted to take her away. You didn't agree and resisted. Boss Ochoa was very angry.

Angry, he shot you in the head. Boss Ochoa thought you were dead and asked us to dispose of your body...corpse."

Carlos said cautiously.

Duka touched the left corner of his forehead. As soon as he touched it, he felt a sharp pain. According to his experience, it should be a flesh injury and a cracked skull, so it was not a big problem.

"Where is Ochoa, take me there."

Duca pointed his gun at the pickup truck.

"well!"

Carlos rolled onto the ground and climbed into the car. When he held the steering wheel, he rolled his eyes and wondered if he should take the opportunity to escape. However, at the same time, the bloody man also got into the passenger seat with a gun in his hand.

Forget it, let’s wait and see.

——

The car started, swaying on the dirt road outside Mexico City.

Duca leaned on his seat and quietly looked out the car window at the rich Mexican-style buildings, the houses mainly in red, yellow and blue, the Catholic churches with domes and red walls, and many of them had murals painted on the walls.

's temple.

Then he saw the towering Aztec Temple, and many men and women wearing Indian sacrificial attire, holding exquisite sacrificial silverware, passed by the driveway.

Duka touched his chin and felt something magical.

He was originally an Interpol police officer. When he and his companions were performing tasks on the US-Mexico border, they were ambushed by a hostile organization.

In order to cover the retreat of his companions, he hid in a temple and fought back, but was eventually hit by a rocket.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the sack and arrived outside Mexico City. It seemed that I had changed my body.

He looked at the palm prints on his palms. They were completely different from his own. Even simulation technology couldn't make them so real.

Things are rather strange, but he has experienced war and can adapt quickly.

He thought of something and reached into his pocket to dig out. He was wearing a checkered T-shirt and blue jeans.

The pants had four pockets, and apart from a tissue and a packet of white powder, there were no other clues.

"Sir, are you looking for your wallet?"

The driver Carlos looked at him carefully and pointed to the storage box on the passenger side.

"When they sent you to the car, I saw your wallet fell on the ground, so I picked it up. I promise not to touch a single peso."

Duca pushed open the storage box and took out a black leather wallet.

The wallet contained an identification card, four business cards, several banknotes of varying amounts, and three 1-peso silver coins, totaling 283 pesos.

The year of issuance is '1985' printed on the silver coin, and the face of the coin with the eagle engraved on it is still relatively new, with almost no wear.

He took out his ID card and looked at it again. The Mexican ID card was relatively simple and the packaging looked like a driver's license.

It contains the holder's photo, name, date of birth, home address, resident identity code CURP, and date of issuance.

The holder's name is Duca Díaz Hurtado, who was born in November 1972 in the Correctional Institution in Cancun, Yucatan.

The photo shows a young man in his teens, with black hair, dark eyes, a high nose, and a skin tone that is lighter than that of a Mexican. He looks like a multi-national mixed race.

Overall, he is a handsome man, which makes him more recognized for his identity.

"Sir, ahead is Inktrough Street, and Boss Ochoa is here."

Carlos said nervously.

Duca looked up at the street.

He didn't know the girl who was kidnapped, and it didn't matter whether he saved her or not. The reason why he came here was because he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to make a quick buck.

Compared with other ways to make money, robbing the underworld is the fastest way to make money.

He disassembled the pistol and reassembled it, then stuck it in his belt.

“Drive in and take a look!”

"good!"

Carlos swallowed and drove in.

——