I met Benny at a bar in the Hillcrest neighborhood of San Diego. Originally from England, he had moved to California to pursue a PhD in anthropology at UCSD. He claimed that he was writing his dissertation on contemporary occult practices in Mexico, but it seemed like he spent all his time partying.
Three weeks after first meeting him, he invited me to take a day trip to Tijuana with him, claiming there was a new club he wanted to check out. Having no plans that weekend, I agreed to accompany him. We took the trolley to the border crossing at San Ysidro and quickly passed through immigration.
Once in Mexico, we headed towards the Zona Norte, Tijuana’s red light district, where Benny claimed this club was. I followed him past the glitzy clubs and bars on the main drag and into a dark, narrow alleyway. He stopped in front of a nameless, dingy-looking building.
“This is the hot new club?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Just a quick detour, have patience my friend.”
I followed him inside. It was only a few hundred square feet, dark and full of cigarette smoke. A few topless middle-age women danced on a small stage as old men, several of whom were pleasuring themselves, stared at them lecherously. In one corner, a dwarf in a mariachi suit played an out-of-tune acoustic guitar, an empty tip jar by his feet.
Benny made his way to the back of the club, where the fattest women I had ever seen was standing, She looked to be about fifty and although barely five feet tall, she must’ve weighed over 400 pounds. While the other whores in this establishment were dressed skimpily, this woman had on a long white robe that covered nearly all her skin. Benny said a few words to her in Spanish, and then the two headed out a backdoor. He motioned me to follow him.
“Didn’t know you are into girls,” I said.
“I make exceptions,” he replied, grinning.
“Well if you expect me to join you in a threesome with that whale,” I said, hoping that the puta didn’t speak English, “you are surely mistaken.”
“That whale has a name,” Benny said, laughing. “Fat Juana. Formerly known as Fat Juan. I’ve heard a rumor about her, and am determined to find out if it is true.”
“How about you tell me where this club is, and I’ll meet you there once you’re done with her.”
“Just come with me, it won’t be long.”
I considered heading back to San Diego, but decided to tag along. We made our way to a nearby hotel, where Benny booked a room.
“I’ll wait in the lobby,” I told them.
“Nah, come up,” he said. “I promise it won’t take long. If you don’t, I’ll never tell you where the club is.”
Not really wanting to, but somewhat curious about what Benny wanted with the whore, I went with them. Once in the room, the whore took off her robe. Her back and stomach were covered in keloid scars, as though she had been whipped mercilessly. Benny asked the woman something in a language I didn’t understand. It wasn’t Spanish. A look of horror came over her face, He pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and repeated his question. She held up three fingers. Benny shook his head and produced another hundred dollar bill. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what Benny wanted this girl to do that would cost that much.
She nodded and grabbed the money. Benny handed her a piece of paper and she jotted a few lines down. Then, without saying a word, she waddled as fast as she could out the door.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked.
“I just confirmed the rumor that I heard. There’s a legendary brothel about two hours from here. It’s called La Mazmorra, and it is alleged that she had, uh, shall we say worked there.
“If all the women there looked like her, I don’t see how it would be legendary.”
“Don’t kink shame,” Benny said, smiling. “Some men will pay lots of money for a girl as big as her.”
“What language were you talking to her in, anyways?”
“Mixtec. She’s from Oaxaca, in the South of Mexico. Anyways, let’s get out of here.”
“We’re going to the club?”
“Yep, it’s a little bit of a ways, so we’ll take a cab.”
We hailed a cab. I had my doubts that a hot new club would be located outside the tourist area, but stupidly I got in. Benny and the driver argued for several minutes in Spanish, a language which I only knew a few words of, before we set off.
We headed southeast, leaving the bustling downtown and its throngs of tourists. The area became noticeably poorer. Mobs of barefoot street children surrounded our car at every light, and dozens of stray dogs roamed the street. After driving for about thirty minutes, the driver stopped and said something in Spanish. Benny responded angrily , and the driver pulled out a pistol and aimed it at us.
“Sal de aquí!” he yelled. We scampered out of the car as the driver quickly drove away.
“Bastard wouldn’t take us any further,” Benny said, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“How are you smiling?” I asked. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
“I know perfectly well. There’e someone I have an appointment with nearby.”
I punched him in his face, sending him sprawling to the ground. “I’ve had enough of your games,” I yelled. “I don’t know what the fuck you are up to, but I know there’s no club. I’m calling an Uber and getting out of here.”
Benny looked up at me, somehow still smiling. ´“I think you broke my nose. Gonna need to get surgery. My face is my moneymaker.”
“Lucky plastic surgery is cheap down here. You’re fortunate I only punched you once.” I took out my phone. No service this far south of the border.
Benny laughed. “Looks like you’re stuck with me. I’m sorry I lied to you, but it will all be worth it. Follow me. You don’t want to walk these streets alone. How about I blow you, and we’ll call it even.”
I wasn’t going to follow him to God knows where. Walking back towards the border would be dangerous, but at least it was daytime.
Before I could set off, three men approached us, armed with assault rifles.
“You lost, amigos?” one of them asked.
“No, we’re not lost,” Benny said.
The man laughed. “You talk like the Beatles.”
“First off, I don’t talk anything like them considering I am from the Midlands. Secondly, we are here to see Arturo. El cubano.”
The man laughed again. “I will take you and your boyfriend to him. But I do not think he will be happy if you waste his time. You won’t be smiling long.”
“We’re lost,” I said. “And we will be heading back.”
The men conferred in Spanish. “I do not think so,” their leader finally said. “Arturo will be interested in knowing that some gringos came looking for him. Come with us.”
Guns aimed at our backs, we were marched through the streets. One overpass had two bodies, along with a banner in Spanish, hanging from it.
“That’s called a narcoblanket,” Benny said to me nonchalantly, as if he were pointing out a famous tourist site. “Warning to rival cartels to stay out of this neighborhood.”
“Lovely. So how do you know Arturo?”
He shrugged. “Through a mutual friend.”
“You’re going to get us killed. Don’t know what the fuck you are thinking, venturing into cartel territory.”
“Relax, Jake,” Benny said. “Everything will be fine. Do I look worried?”
I didn’t respond and we kept walking. The streets were deserted, but I could see faces staring at us through the windows of this shantytown. Finally, after about thirty minutes, we came to a house surrounded by a barbed-wire fence.
One of the men rang the buzzer and said something in Spanish. The gate opened and we entered the yard. As we approached the house, the door flung open.
A man stepped out, flanked by three bodyguards. He was younger than I expected, about 25, light-skinned, and was dressed in a dirty white t-shirt and blue jeans. In front of him was an enormous mastiff, whose head nearly reached the man’s chest.
“Ben-ha-meen!” he cried. “Your face, your pretty little face. Did my men do that to you? If they did, I will kill them. But before, I will ram jalapeños up their rectums and watch them squirm”
Benny shook his head. “Wasn’t one of your men, Arturo. Some beggar slugged me when I told him I didn’t have any money.”
“We will find him and stuff him in a barrel of acid” Arturo said. He looked at me. “Your new friend is quite cute. Can you take off your shirt, amigo.”
Feeling like I did not have a choice, I removed my t-shirt. Arturo gasped. “Dios mío!¡”
“It’s even more impressive what’s under his shorts,” Benny said, the shit-eating grin still on his face.
“Are you, how do you say it in English, activo?”
“He’s a total top,” Benny said. “Refuses to blow me. Even gets mad if my hand goes anywhere near his ass. Slaps it away.”
“That will soon change though,” Arturo said. “There are lots of men who will pay big money to destroy his lily-white ass.”
I tackled Benny to the ground, determined to kill him. Before I could deliver a punch, the enormous mastiff knocked me off him. He stood over me, teeth bared, growling, his breath rancid. Arturo yelled something at him and the beast walked away.
“I am just joking, my friend,” Arturo said. “I will not hurt you. Now, Ben-ha-meen, I have something for you.” He went back into the house and returned a few minutes later with a parcel wrapped in newspaper, about the size of a cucumber. “I assume you have the directions.”
Benny nodded and traded the parcel for the piece of paper the whore had given him.
“You know they have dogs and X-rays at the border,” I whispered to Benny. “And there’s no way in hell I am helping you smuggle that back in.”
He just laughed. “It’s not what you think it is.”
Arturo starred at the paper for several seconds. “I have driven past there and never taken a second look. Ben-ha-meen, you have a way of finding information.”
Benny smiled. “They just think I’m a harmless Brit.”
“They couldn’t be any more wrong,” Arturo asked. “What are we waiting for. Time is ticking.”
-–
We squeezed into a pickup truck. Arturo was in the front passenger seat, Benny and I were in the back, sandwiched between two of his men. The enormous mastiff rode in the truck’s bed, along with some shovels, wooden planks, hammers, nails, a rusty machete, and, for some strange reason, a plastic container of peanut butter. Five more of Arturo’s men, all heavily armed, got in another truck.
We drove south, quickly leaving civilization behind. The road turned to dirt as the houses gave way to verdant fields, where farmworkers labored in the hot sun. Then the fields disappeared, replaced by desert sand, where cacti grew to enormous heights and bighorn sheep butted heads. We only passed a handful of other cars. Besides a few roadside shrines, there was no sign of civilization.
After about an hour, we came to a small village. There, we turned on to some side road, not much wider than a foot path, and drove for about twenty more minutes, before we reached a small wooden cantina. Four sports cars were parked outside. A caracara sat on one, eating a rattlesnake. Smoke billowed out from a chimney on the cantina’s tin roof.
“Evil abounds in Mexico,” Arturo said, “but if the rumors are true the wickedness that resides in this den of iniquity has no compare. Follow us.”
We made our way towards the cantina, Arturo leading his men. Benny and I followed a few steps behind. A single gunman trailed us, his gun pointed towards my back.
Inside was a small bar with a few stools, all of them empty. Deafening music blared from speakers. A large mural of dancing skeletons covered one of the walls, one of a monstrous sea serpent decorated another. Behind the bar, an old man was drying dirty glasses. As he saw us coming in, he raised a pistol, but he was too slow on the draw. Arturo shot him once in the head, the sound of the gunshot muffled by the music.
We made our way through a door behind the bar. When I saw what was beyond it, I threw up. Roasting on a wooden spit over a fire was a woman. Several men stared at her, aroused by the grotesque spectacle. One of them was carving chunks of flesh from her torso. They were too entranced to even notice us come in. Arturo and his men quickly mowed them down.
We made our way to the back of the kitchen. There was another door, which Arturo shot open. He and his men descended a spiral staircase. A few seconds later, there was more gunfire, which was soon replaced by screaming.
“What are you waiting for,” Arturo yelled from below. “Come on down and see the sights!”
As I began descending the staircase, I was overcome by the stench of sewage and rot. At the bottom was a narrow corridor, lined by rows of cells. Behind the bars, dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of people were packed in, standing shoulder to shoulder. Most looked to be on the verge of death. Arturo and his men walked the length of the dungeon, stepping over the dead bodies of cantina’s guards, shooting indiscriminately through the bars at the cowering, screaming masses.
Arturo looked at me. “This is not an act of cruelty, but one of mercy. For death is the only way these people will know rest. Now, to find the obispo. He is hiding here somewhere.”
They searched, but there was no sign of the obispo, whoever he was.
“Maybe if you didn’t kill everyone,” Benny said, “they could have told you where he was hiding.”
“You are very smart, Ben-ha-meen,” Arturo said. “But I will find him. For if the rumors of his treasure are true, I, the son of penniless refugees, will be one of the most powerful men in Mexico.”
Suddenly, there was the ringing of a cell phone from beneath the passageway. Arturo pulled up one of the tiles, revealing a secret chamber, where a diminutive man, dressed in clerical robes, was cowering. Arturo ripped the phone from him.
“We must thank Padre Cavanaugh for revealing you location,” Arturo said. He yanked the obispo from his hiding spot.
“This man,” Arturo said, “el obispo, the bishop, is, what is the phrase again, a wolf in the sheep’s clothing. He gains the trust of the poor, the destitute, the hopeless, promising them a better life in the north. But he takes them here. If there is a hell, it could not be worse than this.”
Arturo began interrogating the bishop in Spanish, but he didn’t say a word, not even in response to a kick or a punch. After a few minutes of this, he dragged the bishop up the stairs. Benny and I followed him. We had no choice.
Outside in the desert, Arturo cut a spiny cactus branch with a machete. Then he walked over to the bishop and ripped the cleric’s robes off. The bishop immediately began blabbering.
Arturo just laughed. “Sometime it is just the threat of torture that makes a man speak. But I see no reason not to carry it out.”
I did not watch, I could not watch, but I could not escape the screams.
After it was over, Arturo dragged the naked, bleeding bishop through the desert sands. His mastiff trotted by his feet and his men followed behind, carrying the wooden planks, shovels, and the jar of peanut butter. After about a mile, we came to a cliff overlooking the Pacific. We stopped by an old well, about a hundred feet away from the cliff’s edge.
The planks were hammered into a cross, and the screaming bishop, barely alive, was nailed to it. One nail through each of his wrist, and a single spike through his feet.
Then Arturo spread peanut butter on the man’s genitalia. I turned away before Arturo sicced his dog on him. There was more screaming, but thankfully it subsided after only a few minutes.
“It is finished,” Arturo said. “Do not weep for him, the pain that was inflicted on him wasn’t even one percent, not even a half of a percent, not even a tenth of a percent, of what he inflicted on the innocent.”
As his men began digging around the well, I sauntered over to the cliff’s edge and sat down. Arturo watched me but didn’t say anything. About 75 feet below me were the rough waters of the Pacific. A few seconds later, Benny walked over, carrying the parcel wrapped in newspaper. He sat down and put his arm around my shoulder.
“I love you, Jake,” he said, smiling.
“We’re going to die, and you’re here joking?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I’m serious, I love you.”
“Please, I met you a few weeks ago,”
“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
I didn’t respond. For the first time all day, he stopped smiling.
We sat in silence on the edge of the cliff, watching the sun set. I knew it would probably be the last one I ever saw.
“Let me tell you about this place,” Benny finally said. “Before the Spanish arrived, the indigenous tribes used to sacrifice a maiden to a sea god who lived in an underwater cave below these cliffs. If the god was satisfied with the offering, he would grant the tribe invincibility in battle. The Spanish, of course, put a stop to this, and the location of the sea monster’s lair was lost to history. But during my dissertation research, I heard rumors that human sacrifice continues in remote parts of Mexico, that a former prelate had opened a brothel, where, for enough money, he would fulfill any sordid fantasy. It was said that when he had no further use for one of his captives, he would sacrifice them to the sea god, who, in exchange for regular offerings, granted him eternal life. If the legends are true, he is, or I guess I should say was, over 500 years old. He came over from Andalusia to convert the natives, but he soon realized that in this land, the native gods are more powerful than the God of Israel.”
“Well, since the bishop is clearly dead, I think we can conclude that your story is a bunch of nonsense.”
“Maybe,” Benny said. “But I’ve learned that in any legend, there’s always a bit of truth. You look sad. How about I blow you while you watch the sun set?”
“They’re going to kill us, you know that, right?” I whispered to him. “What reason would they have to keep you alive after they find his buried loot?”
He smiled at me. “They’re not going to kill us.”
I sighed. “We should jump off this cliff. We’ll probably die, but it’ll give us a chance of survival.
“You know how I know they’re not going to kill us?” Benny asked.
I didn’t respond.
“Because I’m going to kill you.”
“Can you be serious for once, goddammit?”
“I’m 100% serious. I’m getting hard just thinking of it.” He unwrapped the parcel that Arturo had given him. In it was an obsidian dagger. “This was found in an archaeological dig nearby a few years back. Allegedly has magical powers, was used for sacrifices. I had Arturo’s men break into a provincial museum and steal it for me “
“All you got out of this was a fucking knife?” I whispered, still thinking he was joking. “Thought you got some blow or something that’s worth actual money. You’re fucking crazy.”
“You’re about to find out how crazy I am.” He slashed the blade at my neck. I managed to roll out of his way and quickly got to my feet.
Benny smiled at me. “I love you Jake. Let me sacrifice you. Then I will slit my own throat, and we can be together for all eternity.”
This man was truly insane. I looked back inland, where Arturo and his men were staring at us.
“Ben-ha-meen,” Arturo said. “Do not hurt him, he is worth something. Here, have a pick of one of my men.”
Benny laughed. “You promised if I got you the address, you would let me do whatever I wanted. Plus, none of your men are cute.”
Arturo looked at me. “What can I say, Ben-ha-meen is chiflado. But I did promise. And I am a man of my word”
As Benny charged at me again, I dove off the cliff. A few seconds later, I crashed headfirst into the cold waters. I surfaced and saw Benny standing on the edge of the cliff.
“I love you, Jake,” he cried, as he plunged the dagger into his heart. As his corpse fell towards me, I began swimming away. I didn’t know where I was headed, I just knew that I needed to put as much distance between me and Arturo’s men.
As I was swimming, I saw, about two hundred yards away from me, a massive green sea serpent surface. It was easily over a hundred feet long, its sinewy body as thick as a small submarine. And it was headed right towards me.
There was no way I could outswim it. I looked back to where Benny’s body lay floating, the dagger sticking out of his chest. Normally, stabbing a monster that size with a blade that small would be like poking an elephant with a toothpick. But Benny said it was magic. I could only hope he was right.
I swam over to Benny and pulled the dagger from his chest. To my surprise, he was still alive. “I love you,” he whispered weakly.
Screams came from the cliff and bullets rained down around me. Grasping the knife, I dove underwater. The sea serpent was now less than twenty feet away from me, its mouth open, revealing row after row of razor-sharp teeth.
When it was almost on me, I slashed upward with the dagger, the blade somehow piercing the monster’s thick hide. Almost immediately, the leviathan started convulsing violently, before it went still and tarted sinking to its watery grave. Turns out Benny was telling the truth. The dagger was magic.
I still wasn’t free yet. Running out of air, I had no choice but to surface for air. As soon as I did, the shooting resumed. I took a deep breath, dove underneath, and began swimming as far away as I could from Arturo and his men.
The next time I came up for air, there was no shooting from the cliff. I risked a glimpse back. The cliff was empty. That did not ease my fears though. Were Arturo and his men going to get in a boat and attempt to hunt me down?
I just kept swimming, kept swimming as the last light left the sky. After what must have been several hours, I saw a light from a small boat, heading in my general direction. As it got nearer, I started yelling, hoping that I would be heard over the sound of the sea. It could be Arturo, but I had no other choice. If I wasn’t rescued, I would soon succumb to exhaustion or hypothermia.
Thankfully, it was just a group of four fishermen. I didn’t speak much Spanish, and they didn’t speak any English, but they took me back to their small fishing village. From there, a doctor was called, and he took me to a hospital in the small city of Lázaro Cárdenas. Anytime a doctor or nurse came into my hospital room, I would start shaking, scared that it would be Arturo or one of his men. But it never was. Two days later, I was back in San Diego.
That was almost a year ago. I’m constantly on the lookout for Arturo. Just yesterday, when I was walking down India Street in San Diego, I thought I saw him exit a coffee shop. He looked at me and winked before he got in his car and drove off. It probably wasn’t him, but I can’t be sure. What I saw on that day in Old Mexico will never leave me.