The Unnamed — Short Story
A “Film Treatment” — Brotherhood, Life Choices, and Patience
As Juan and Roberto grew up in a modest suburb in Mexico during the 1990s and into 2000s, they were detached from most of the poverty associated with life in their country by outsiders. With a stable home where both parents worked, the brothers were only a year and a half apart in age and shared many experiences through school and sports.
Athletic and competitive, each had a promising future in coming to the United States to play soccer for a full scholarship. Slightly older and with better study habits, Juan often seemed like the motivation for Roberto’s minor rebellions.
Their development and aspirations somehow came together in a desire to serve in the Mexican Army right after graduating with Bachelors degrees. With strong physical and mental personnel, a war machine takes notice.
Juan’s character was impeccable. Roberto had what seemed to be a manageable erratic streak. In support of peace keeping and active duty missions abroad, they were offered entrance into the Army’s elite Special Forces unit, GAFE, or serve out their commitments and do something else.
Roberto signed up, Juan did not. Time progressed and so did their careers; Juan settled down in Houston, Texas with a good job at a trucking fleet leasing company, and started a family. It became one he frequently took back to Mexico to enjoy familial gatherings.
Roberto became a hardened battle and covert operations specialist with no place he called home. A pivotal exchange took place when Roberto showed up unannounced at his brother’s house one night; as big of a shock that it was, it seemed to go well. Whispers and tequila. Roberto left in the morning.
Sometime later, an invitation arrived for Juan and his family to come visit Roberto at a rented mansion in the Cayman Islands. He would fly them down on a private jet for a three day weekend. After arguing with his wife about the trip — she with many reasonable questions and doubts about safety — Juan went alone.
It was on the beach during the last day, enjoying fresh seafood and fine tequila, when a muscular, healthy, seemingly rich Roberto told Juan that he expected to die soon.
While it was a heavy thing to say, Roberto would not explain, only saying that Juan would find out why someday. For the two, it was more emotional than expected but appropriate; in a way, they could both tell it would be the last time they would see each other alive in the same place.
A month later, Juan received a FedEx envelope with a single piece of paper inside. It was a step by step explanation how to find a hidden package by cutting open the suitcase he took on the trip to visit Roberto. Once the wife and kids were in bed, he took the suitcase to the garage and got started.
Hidden with an expert touch were keys and the paperwork to access four safety deposit boxes the size of refrigerators in an unnamed account in a bank in downtown Houston that would be maintained for 20 years. Knowing a rushed decision was not necessary, Juan hid the treasure map well.
Years passed. The bank was a stable, still there.
Comfortable with the gamble that if he died suddenly so would the secret, by chance Juan found out what actually happened to Roberto. Called the most major escalation in the conflict between two powerful regional criminal cartels and Mexican law enforcement, Roberto was part of a group of 26 Special Forces soldiers who took their expertise and weapons and switched sides. An original team, organized, disciplined but of the kind of character to trade allegiance from Country to Money.
Within the group, guys like Roberto helped develop secret networks, radio strategies, and deploy teams rolling heavy in armored Chevy Tahoe trucks.
The massive payout riches, drugs, booze, and thrill kill culture drew out the worst in the best.
Once they left the Army Special Forces unit, they traded away their real names. As the enforcement, protection and aggression wing of the powerful Los Matadors of El Paso cartel, The Unnamed became a genuine problem. Roberto and his group were lured by money and grew arrogant after a dozen or so successful operations under direction from Los Matadors.
The tide started to turn…with fresh recruits, the rival cartel of the west put together the Nuevo Negro, capable of hitting back. The Navy assault units — the MARINA — began picking away in battles, showing determination.
Of the original 26 crew that became The Unnamed, within three years they were down to 14. Many to cocaine overdoses, car accidents, but a good number bled out after being gunned down in a firefight. When Roberto got caught in a carefully planned ambush trap, he managed to take out four soldiers along the way. After him, there were only 11 left.
A year later, the last known surviving six went into hiding.
Finally seeing something on the Local News, a captured photo from The Unnamed showing the roster — Roberto standing directly under the Los Matadors flag, proudly showing off an arsenal worthy of invading Cuba — Juan nearly had a heart attack.
As though wrinkles instantly etched in under his eyes and around his chin, the collision of knowing that he did not know what was in the bank with what he just learned about his brother made for over the top stress.
Year 19 of 20
In a wheelchair, suffering from advanced lung cancer even though he never smoked a day in his life, Juan had a private talk with his 24 year old son, Rodrigo; he recently earned a Bachelors degree, was working on getting his first career job.
It was a hushed request, one of those favors that only gets asked when the situation is serious. Rodrigo’s job would be to get the keys and paperwork from Juan’s hiding spot, many miles away and out of reach for the crippled man, then visit the bank. Use the tools and information to get in.
Check out the contents of the four containers, get back here and tell me what’s inside!
The confused look on Rodrigo’s face when he returned from the bank made Juan wonder if his Son was followed out of the place.
Without saying more than a hello, Rodrigo wheeled his father outside to the back patio.
Sitting directly across from Juan on a patio chair, he held up four fingers.
Number one:
Empty, completely empty.
Number two:
Packed floor to ceiling with 1 ounce gold bars.
Number three:
Assault weapons, rifles, pistols and boxes of ammo.
Number four:
Three cardboard boxes and a big teddy bear.
Juan smiled, knowing that teddy bear was the one he lost to Roberto in a bet back in Elementary School. Everything else could be squared away in time.
Over the span of six months, Rodrigo methodically removed the contents of the private storage and brought each shipment over for inspection by Juan. The gold stash was well over $8 million. For the weapons, they got stashed deep in the backyard, the best kind of insurance to have.
When he finally saw the teddy bear and looked through the three cardboard boxes, Juan relaxed and dropped into a nap in his chair. He didn’t bother waking up. It was time to go join Roberto…
