A Trip To Mexico Short Story

My uncle recently just moved to Mexico City because of work. He started by renting a house just of a construction site, but close enough to drive to work in about ten to fifteen minutes. He didn’t like the place because of the loud sounds of the machinery or the clanking of the metal poles as they were building a convenient store. He understandably didn’t particularly enjoy the smell the sweat of the men or the newly put concrete or the close garbage bins which surrounded the construction place. A week has passed and he started noticing strange actions which the surrounding people were doing, but didn’t think much of it as he didn’t know if it was some sort of tradition or event which happened in the middle of summer. He saw a lot of people throughout the day, but there were always the same people on the same spot for what seemed for days now.
There were a total of three of them which he calculated that they were in their mid-twenties or early thirties.
They normally played soccer or just used their phones and took pictures of women as they walked by or simply played some sort of game through it. But what was particular about them wasn’t the place which they lived or the clothes they used, but the tattoos and the amount of money they had from time to time. One day they were carrying from fifty to hundred’s pesos (the currency of Mexico) to then carrying thousands of pesos. They had very strange and poorly done tattoos which looked like they were made from stickers that have been on their skin for days. They were rubbed, brushed off, and had scars through them. He couldn’t make out the tattoos as they seemed ancient and not very well made. But he could see a few designs which
varied

from guns and knives, to skulls, to even serpents and spiders. Five days later, after coming home from work, he noticed them snooping around his rented property with a paper and a small pencil. He asked them, what they were doing, to which they responded that they lost their soccer ball and they wanted to see if it blew over his house. He took the answer but was suspicious of them and told them that the ball wasn’t around and that they needed to get out of his property. He took a glace of the paper and saw his house, poorly drawn out with the pencil. This made him nervous and started to double lock his windows as well as his doors every night and every time he left the house. The next days were which he said were the most terrifying days of his life. After the soccer ball incident he noticed that his back door lock had a bit of a dent which wasn’t there before. He then notified the police about the people and the dent of the lock. The police quickly said in a sarcastic way that they promised him that they were going to look in the matter about this and would watch over his house if he wanted them to. After going to the police he went home and finished up his paper work and went off to bed. Several hours later he was awoken by the sound of a window shattering. He decided to lock his valuables on a safe below his bed and decided to check what the sound was. To his predicted terror he found the people trying to take the TV form his living room. He tried to slowly and quietly go outside to notify the police, but was quickly noticed by someone and shouted to him to get on the ground. He tried to run for it but was shot in the leg by

what seemed to be the leader of the little gang. He felt the bullet enter and his bones cracking and breaking. He tried to move but the pain was unbearable and was not able to move. Crying for help was the only option he had if he wanted to stop the robbers, but if he screamed he knew he would get shot again. He decided to stay still and be quiet as he was watched over by someone while the other two took everything they could fit into their truck. From the TV to his paintings, almost everything was stolen from his house. Someone said that if he tried to move more then he would get shot in the other leg. He couldn’t make out the face but could smell the nicotine and booze off his breath. The robbers left an hour later with his belongings and left in the truck. He was not able to get the plate number but was able to remember what color and what type of car they had. After a few minutes he took his phone and called an ambulance as he was losing a lot of blood and was feeling nauseous and was going unconscious. He woke up and saw many tubes connected to him and smelled the medicine and felt terribly cold. He called for a nurse and a doctor came in to talk to him about the injuries he had in his leg. Turns out that the bullet broke his tibia and lost about 20 ounces of blood and would need a cast in his leg. The police was only able to catch one but he wouldn’t reveal the location of the other two. He left Mexico City two days later and hasn’t been back since. Five months later they contacted him saying that they were able to apprehend the criminals and were sent to prison. He still works but is not able to move as fast as he could before and is also not able to travel to many places as before.