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away. The whole event was dehumanizing.
    The shock of what took place was
written all over the girls expressionless faces. Innocence was
replaced by a blank stare. As the victims emerged half naked
bystanders tried to comfort them and offered first aide. My brother
and I both sat silently with our heads hung in shame. It was surreal
and hard to endure but we had no choice. When they were done the
rapists hung their victims discarded bras and panties on a nearby
tree limb. It was already decorated from the belongings of their
past female conquests. These rape trophies were displayed to show
off the gang’s masculinity and power. Degrading the women
made them feel like men. The majority of these types of attacks went
unreported to American authorities because of the shame it brought
and their illegal immigration status. The victims didn’t want
to be deported by ICE and sent back to Mexico.
    The coyotes were preparing to move
all of us immigrants to a drop house in south Phoenix. They told us
to pack our stuff up to leave. We were all huddle together in groups
about to load into the vans when they told us to be quiet. The
coyote leader heard gunshots coming from one of his look out
positions.
    “ POP!
POP! POP!”
    “ Get out there and see what
the fuck that was!” he ordered.
    A
group of his men grabbed their guns and walked into the desert. The
other coyotes put the campfires out. A couple of minutes later we
heard more gunshots and screaming.
    “ POP!
POP!”
    Someone was in agonizing pain.
    “ Yowl!”
    Not knowing the source of the sound
stirred up feelings of panic as they got closer. We could not see
anything but could tell someone was out there. The other men wanted
to go in after them. At that point the rest of us stood there
completely helpless.
    “ Don’t be so impatient
to run off halfcocked!” the leader ordered. “We don't
know who's out there! I can’t see shit! It could be …!”
    He
was stopped mid-sentence when one of his men ran back out of the
desert holding his neck a few seconds later. His hands gripped his
throat as blood flowed like a faucet through his fingers. It looked
like he was trying to talk. His face was pale and he looked like he
had seen a ghost. He stumbled closer and I could make out what he
was trying to say.
    “ Run. They are coming.”
    
    
     One of the van drivers got out of his pick up and
slowly started walking toward his friend taking careful steps. He
couldn’t help but notice his friend’s eerie behavior.
    “ What hell happened out
there bro?” he asked. “What the fuck did you see? Who
did this?”
     He
was trying to help his amigo and never saw the two figures come out
of darkness. They had been concealed by the thick vegetation and
cactus.
    “ GROOOWWWL!”
    Even in almost total darkness and
rocky ground the figures had tracked the injured man down. They
lunged forward and knocked the drivers’ friend down. Then they
started to bite and tear at his flesh but the attack was unseen by
most of the others.
    “ CHOMP!”
    The
van driver tried to help him up but it was too late.
    “ Get the hell off him!”
    “ Ricardo! Leave him!”
cried out another voice. “He's gone mi amigo!”
    “ No!” said Ricado the
driver. “He might still be alive!”
    In
one violent motion Ricardo got his arm dislodged leaving it bloody
with part of the bone sticking out. His breathing became heavy and
erratic. He slowly bled to death on a patch of jagged rocks and ruff
stones. More of those things came out of the desert. They closed in
getting closer and closer with every awkward step. Droves and
droves of killers started attacking us.
    “ GROOOWWWL!”
    Just
like animals some of the figures were solitary hunters while others
were in packs. They converged on us and went on a killing frenzy.
Everyone in their path was slaughtered because there were too many
to avoid. No matter what direction our people chose they ran into a
net of hands that randomly grasped for them. Some of