by an anonymous combat veteran
The men, clad in faded green camouflage uniforms and heavily worn black boots, came around the bend in the stream, and spotted Her. The summer sun beat down on them as they submissively removed their hats out of respect, got down on their hands and knees, and began slowly, humbly crawling towards Her feet. Twenty meters of rock and hard earth later, they raised their heads to look into the dark emptiness of Her eyes. One of them pulled a box of wooden matches from his fatigue top, reaching for the candle next to Her and lit the wick. The soldiers closed their eyes, bow their heads, and assume a prayerful pose.
They began their devotion:
“Santísima Muerte, I come, on my knees, to beg for your protection as I head into the wilderness. I beseech thee, O Holy One, to envelop me in your blessings and guard me with your scythe as I make my way through the abyss. With your help, Madre Santa, I know that my enemies will not prevail in their attempts to stop me. I devote myself to you because I know you will shield me within the armor of your cloak and hold me tightly in your arms, until I take my last breath and enter into a holy death, with you, Queen of Darkness. Amén.”
She stared back. Silent. Motionless. Pale. Without uttering a single word, this Dark Queen has attracted millions of followers throughout North, Central, and South America, especially within the realm of organized crime. Attempting to harness Santa Muerte’s spiritual energy, Her followers tap into the supernatural and grasp at Her magick. Realizing it is better to seek Her out, than vice-versa, devotees covet her blessings during their endeavors, whether they be licit or illicit; the notion of morality and ethics being a very subjective topic within Her circles, especially among sicarios and narco smugglers.
The El Salvadorans slowly stood and approached the shrine. Reaching into their olive drab uniform pockets, they pull out an offering. With reverence, they gently placed coins at Her feet, bowing their “MS-13” tattooed heads.
The ritual is complete. They have the blessing of Santa Muerte for this mission.
The Mara Salvatrucha squad heads towards the bunker overlooking the border between Mexico and the US. They grab a bite of food, sip water, and don their packs. Their orders come straight from the Sinaloa Cartel; the most infamous gang in the world contracts with the most notorious cartel in the world. Their orders are to move dope into the US without being seen. Once they reach the drop off point, the scout will radio the vehicle and the handoff can be completed.
This load is valuable. Very valuable. For this mission, weapons will be carried. Two members of the squad grab their .45 caliber pistols. They insert magazines into the black handguns and rip the upper slide to the rear, chambering a round into the barrel. Locked and loaded, they prepare to head out.
The squad leader conducts a radio check with a lone scout already on the North side. He receives a “Todo claro.”
As they step off, one of the smugglers grabs the small, golden, Santa Muerte pendant hanging from his neck, raises it to his lips, kisses it, and tucks it under his shirt.
“Vamanos” the leader whispers.
Guarded by The Dark Saint, and guided by their Sinaloa colleagues, they exit the Mexican desert, and enter the Southern Arizona badlands. The next 24 hours are literally “do or die;” they now face steep mountains, jagged rocks, hot weather, and rival cartel factions. Only one thing concerns them now: completing their mission to properly honor Santa Muerte, as She coldly and quietly, casts Her death stare into the desert void.
As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.