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Together with the symphony of croaks and other strange noises of the Petén jungle, mixing the constant wheezing veteran Lt. Abel Perez, who ran as fast as he could, despite the pain in his injured left leg and veil of mosquitoes that live devoured it slowed down the pace. Suddenly, he tripped over a tree root and fell headlong. Nearly died of fright at seeing a branch curve and atabacada near its mouth when it hits the floor, as in his paranoia had confused that with a snake nahuyaca, one of the many ways that death can take in the jungle.
was at that moment when Abel realized that the good life, a product of their ill-gotten money, they had softened. It was an embarrassment for a former kaibil feel so tired after a few miles away, especially considering that in its heyday go that distance you would like a simple warm morning. I no longer knew the jungle where he trained in his youth.
His cell phone had been destroyed and lost his Rolex. Except for his automatic pistol, which only he had a couple of bullets missed his team of military survival, especially the compass and combat boots. The towering trees hid the sun and thus any opportunity for orientation, was then also missed the guide, and he recalled how, just hours ago, had fallen under the fire struck the same destination-narcotics squad who had his bodyguards and his cronies, "within the village of tappers where he thought Perez would make more profit selling cocaine from his life.
Exhausted, Abel came on the banks of a river where a woman spied topless, fishing, covered only the waist down with a skirt made from woven leaves. The ex-fighter was so lost I could not tell if that was the Usumacinta River and the Santa Isabel, but what if he was certain was that the girl belonged to a tribe Lacandon, and therefore perhaps could lead him to a dock where you could rent a boat to escape the inferno finally green.
All in one breath Abel put his arm around the native of the neck, back, and placed the tip of the gun to his head. The girl began to struggle and shouting in a language unknown to Perez, he saw that he could not reason with her, sent her to the ground hitting her in the face with the weapon in his frustration, almost instinctively, felt the desire to blow his brains out with the same coldness with which he did several Indian "guerrilla" in Playa Grande, in the Mayan genocide eighties. Before you decide to pull the trigger, the voices of three Lacandon Indians who came hurrying in a canoe distracted. Intimidated, the drug trafficker tumbling away, and had barely taken a few steps when an arrow pierced his arm.
The screams of Abel Perez were turned off by the screams of howler monkeys, which seemed to mock their misery. Desperate, he fired his last bullet back, without turning to look, as he fled with difficulty from the Indians who had reached the shore. Expedited entered an open stretch where his pursuers gave up following him, but began to yell: Balam balam !. Hearing this, the veteran, terrified, could not help thinking Kaibil Balam, the brave warrior king whose exploits Mam empire inspired the creation of the elite group of soldiers who had belonged Abel. Because of this strange thought and Desperate to escape, Perez did not pay attention to a mild roar cat-in which the Indians themselves noticed, from the branches of trees that were right on it, nor recalled that balam means jaguar in most languages Maya.
Thus ended Abel Perez, seized one of the many ways that death can take in the Petén jungle. Thus ended the kaibil , with his neck in the jaws of balam , an ending that would have been disgraceful for Kaibil Balam (in mam means one who has the strength and cunning of two tigers) who is believed still lives hidden in the high peaks, it was never captured by the conquistadors led by Gonzalo de Alvarado.
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