The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 22drunken soldiers had gotten into a fight that had gone on too long, and now guns were involved. Hestarted crawling towards the door of the barracks, shaking the bunks of still-sleeping soldiers as hewent. Most swore at him and rolled over. One never stopped snoring. Only one man, Grayley, liftedhis head and seemed like he might be curious enough to wake up and find out what was going on.Meanwhile, the shooting outside was getting more insistent. Jose arrived at the door, still on hishands and knees, and reached up and slowly turned the doorknob. Once the bolt was clear of the jambhe pulled the door inward and open inch by careful inch, peeking out as he did so. When he had it openwide enough to fit his head through, he stopped. Grayley had crawled up behind him by this point.Jose briefly turned his head back to see who was there, and Grayley gave him a nod of affirmationwhen their eyes met.It was all the encouragement that Jose needed. He was not particularly afraid of very manythings, and the general concept of death certainly did not scare him. And now, of course, that he was inlove with La Catrina, Death herself in all her beauty, he was even less afraid. Never would he besuicidal in order to win her; without entertaining more than a passing thought on that matter, he knewthat she would not possibly be able to love him if he tried to force himself on her in that way. In fact,Jose ultimately developed the theory that if La Catrina was much like other women, then the lessattention he paid to her the more attention she would pay to him, and the longer he managed to live themore she would desire him.In fact, he would spend the rest of his life discerning the truth of the latter half of that theory,until at the very end La Catrina would not be able to resist him any longer and he would finally feel herbony embrace on a matrimonial bed in a Veterans Administration hospital in Ohio.Inching forward, Jose gradually stuck his head out of the doorway until he could see in bothdirections from the frame. To the right, which was more or less south and more or less the desert until
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 23you got to Palomas, Mexico a few miles distant, was nothing. To the left of the barracks door, afterJose's eyes managed to clear the jamb, was an entirely different scene. This direction was north, and itwas the direction of Columbus. Although he could not see the town directly from his vantage point, hecould tell that something unexpected and terrible was taking place. The northern night sky was ghastly,flickering in shades of orange. The sound of gunfire was more widespread with the door open, and toJose it seemed that it was coming from all directions at once, and from both near and far.Jose stepped cautiously out of the barracks door, one slow footstep followed by another downthe three wooden steps to the ground. He could feel Grayley creeping along behind him. They went tothe left along the side of the building, towards the sound of the most intense gunfire. There was notmuch to see between the rows of barracks; the sky to the north was burning but did little to illuminateJose's immediate area. Jose continued north until he came to the end of the barracks building. Twentyfeet away and perpendicular to the barracks was the mess hall, its back turned towards Jose andGrayley. Jose stuck his head around the corner of the barracks and looked in the direction of the doorin the mess hall that opened directly to the kitchen.What he saw froze him momentarily in his tracks. Running towards the kitchen door of themess hall at full speed was a man wearing a pointed sombrero and carrying a rifle at the ready. To Josehe looked exactly like one of the Villistas that he had watched attack Agua Prieta just a few monthsbefore, and any doubt about that was dispelled when the man shouted “Viva Villa” as he kicked in thekitchen door.Jose started to run at the Villista. He had no weapon and no plan, but that didn't matter. Hewanted to stop the Villista. He wanted to die trying. He wanted to kill or to be killed. He thought ofeverything at once, and nothing at all. In an instant, Jose Montoya had become an animal. He was asfast and as sleek and as powerful as a jaguar.Jose had covered half the distance to the Villista when an enormous stream of water came flying
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