SuperMEX

By David Membrila

Arturo "Tury" Mendez, the victim of a home invasion gone awry, becomes lost after witnessing the murder of his wife and child. Leaving El Paso for Tucson, he's on a quest to find his family's killers, before they find him. However, his newly acquired friendships and vagabond lifestyle catapult him into a whirlwind of chaotic adventures, treacherous shenanigans, and kooky heroic antics, in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Jul 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781456637859

Book preview

Prelims (Foreword)

The author, David Membrila, is a music educator with 40 years of experience. He is also a REALTOR, clinical hypnotherapist, professional stage hypnotist, professional musician, professional comedian, author, actor, movie producer, and motivational speaker. At 62 years of age, his philosophy has always been, I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

The concept of SuperMEX, derived from years as a student of martial arts. The author has earned the rank of brown belt in judo as well as American Kenpo karate. As stated by the author:

"Just out of college, I began to study judo. As a white-belt, when the instructors would ask for a volunteer, I was the first to raise my hand. When blackbelts were looking for somebody to work out with, I always volunteered. My ideology was that I may not be able to whoop anybody, but I’ll dang sure be able to take a whoopin’! When I returned to work out with students of my rank, I noticed that it was easier for me to "randori" (judo) with them after working out with experienced players.

My instructor, Sensei Steve Owen, would teach how to throw so your opponent couldn’t get back up. One of the elder black belts named Glen would LOVE to practice, but volunteers were scarce because Glen was a pretty mean judo player.

Of course, I was a glutton for punishment, so I constantly sought out Glen during workouts. One day I quipped, ‘I should charge you for beatin’ me up like this. He snapped back, You should charge everybody."

The seed was planted. Years later, I wrote the script, and created a trailer for funding purposes. (Youtube SuperMEX Final).

We didn’t raise enough money to finance a feature film so I decided to re-write the script in book form, in hope that someday a Hollywood producer will see it and express interest in the script version as well. The character named Steve is the mirror image of my sensei. Small in stature, Sensei Owen could be quick tempered as well as quick witted. He could thrash you with sarcasm, which sometimes hurt more than his judo. If he liked ya, he’d tease ya. If he didn’t, he’d hurt ya.

This book is dedicated to Sensei Steve Owen, Anthony Vanno, (another martial artist and author, who inspired me to write) and Bill Holmes (posthumously) who not only supported my efforts, but inspired me to continue to reach for the stars, but touch hearts along the way.

A special thanks to my wife Bertha Membrila, my kids Jasmine, Liam, and Carmen, who allowed me to sacrifice family time in an effort to create.

A round of applause also goes out to Denisse Vergara Photography for the cover picture, and to Rita Valens for the cover design, as well as Rita Valenzuela and Angel Coronado for their modeling talents.

This is the author’s second publication. Love and hugs to the reader and/or the purchaser of this particular chronical, as without you the book would be just a bunch of blank pages.

Enjoy the read!

Round 1

El Paso, Texas. 2:15 A.M. Tury Mendez and his wife, Amelia, are sound asleep as the moonlight caresses the silhouetted bodies embedded under the satin sheets. The only sound breaking the night-time silence is the hum of the air conditioner unit, which when engaged, creates a sound soothing enough to calm a wailing infant.

Unbeknownst to them, is a blade of a utility knife cutting into a skylight in the upstairs hall bathroom, about 40 feet from where they lay in slumber.

They are about to be visited by unwanted guests.

Two minutes later, Tury is awakened to the click of the lamp on the nightstand, and a pistol in his face.

"Where’s the ye-yo, cabron? yells the intruder, wearing a ski mask so as not to be identified. Tury, dazed from a deep slumber, tries to put his head around what’s happening at that moment. Wha …? What? Tury mumbles, as he holds his hand up to block the light. What are you talking about? Who are you? What do you want??" his voice rising in despair and distress.

Don’t play stupid with me! the intruder snaps back in a thick Hispanic accent. Where is it? he shouts again, cocking the hammer back on his pistol to reinforce his demeanor.

Tury now realizes that this isn’t a dream. You got the wrong house! There’s nothing here! You got the wrong house! Tury screams fearfully.

Awakened by the commotion, Amelia rolls over to see what is going on. She sees Tury sitting upright in bed and hears him arguing with the assailant. She begins screaming, Who are you? What do you want?

The intruder continues, now waiving his gun at both of them. "You know what we’re after! ¡No se hagan pendejos!"

Tury continues to shout, You got the wrong house! We don’t have anything! Here! he says, reaching for his wallet on the night-stand next to his side of the bed. Take my wallet! Credit cards! Pin numbers to the….

The intruder sees Tudy as he reaches for his wallet and whacks him with the butt end of the gun on the right side of his temple. Aahhh! Tury yells, at the crack of the impact.

"Don’t reach for nothing unless I tell you to, chingado!" the intruder yells.

They are interrupted by a second intruder, also wearing a ski mask, who drags Tury’s 8-year-old daughter Maddie, through the bedroom door. Antonio! Look what I found! the second intruder exclaims, holding an M16 assault rifle in one hand and a fighting 8-year-old in the other.

Let me go! Let go of me! Maddie yells as she kicks and punches at her assailant. The assailant yanks her in jerking movements through the door. You’re hurting my arm! Maddie cries, Momma!!

Amelia has worked her way out of the covers and is fighting to get to her daughter but is met with the M16 barrel striking her chest. Maddie! She screams. Instinctively, Amelia grabs the mask of the assailant with one hand, and the barrel of the rifle with the other, unaware of the hair-trigger modified on the weapon.

Tury screams, Amelia! No!!

As Amelia pulls the rifle barrel to disarm the assailant who is still tugging with the child, the weapon triggers, and a barrage of bullets hit Amelia squarely in the chest. The impact sends her flying into the headboard of the bed. At the same time, the rifled assailant loses his footing as the rifle fires, and he falls backwards, into the child.

The force of the fall causes the child to crash through the wooden banister, falling head-first to the floor below. The sound of the child’s neck breaking as she hits the stairwell echoes throughout the house.

Tury jumps out of bed to rush to his daughter but is met with the butt end of the pistol to his jaw. As he falls backward on the bed, he feels a second crack to his forehead.

Still conscious, Tury vaguely sees the images of the two assailants as they whisper to each other.

"¡Pendejo! the first assailant charges at the second and punches him in the face which knocks his partner to the ground. What was that for?" asks the partner. Tury hears an Anglo voice ask.

The Hispanic assailant stands over his partner. "For shooting, stupido! And for using my real name!"

Both assailants turn toward Tury as they hear him unintentionally moan in pain.

He’s still alive. the accented intruder states, grabbing the assault weapon. Tury realizes the danger he’s in and tries with all of his might to roll on to the floor. Once he hit the floor, he opens one eye slightly to see the barrel of the rifle approaching rapidly toward his face.

Crack! Lights out.

18 months later …

Moses Santana, a portly, burned-out detective suffering from too many happy hours, serves himself coffee at a local convenience store. Surveilling the store as he pours, he scalds the hand holding the cup, when he overfills it.

Dammit! he whispers, shaking his hand in the air from the pain of the burn and trying to dry it at the same time. He grabs a few napkins and shakes his head at his clumsiness. He quickly reflects on the ration of luck he has had lately … job fatigue, one step away from a 12-step program, and the closest thing he’s come to romance is a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Not to mention the close calls he has had over the years, having had to dodge bullets, chase down bad guys, and dealing with the mortality rate of those who have fallen victim to vicious crimes in his sector. I should’ve been a fireman, he says to himself, as he pops open a bottle of Ibuprofen on the shelf and taps out 5 tablets, to down with his coffee.

His attention is interrupted by a group of youths, barely adult age entering the store whispering to each other. The store clerk has left a sign on the counter stating, Back in 5 minutes.

The three youths begin to grab stuff off the shelves and stuff them into a backpack. Now’s our chance! one whispers to the others. James grabs a grip of pre-paid cell phones. We can always sell these. James whispers to the others.

Moses goes into cop mode.

Wincing as he peers from between boxes of hamburger helper, Moses contemplates engaging the youths, but he feels that shoplifting is not only below his means but the crime being committed is a major distraction to the calm and collective day he had anticipated. For once, he was looking forward to a day which didn’t involve a ton of paperwork.

His mind instinctively records the descriptions of the shoplifters. James, Anglo, 5 ft 9, blond hair, blue or green eyes, thin build, approximately 19-20 years of age, 165 lbs…

Eddie! James whispers, Grab phone chargers! On it! Eddie replies. Eddie grabs as many phone charges as he could carry with both arms. Hey! Eddie says, Look what the guy left on the counter! They look like wire cutters!"

Are they packaged? James asks, No. Eddie retorts. James continues, Grab them anyway. We can use them to steal bikes.

Moses glances at Eddie, 5 ft. 7, Hispanic or Asian, slightly muscular build, approximately 20 years old, about 185 lbs, black hair, can’t see the eyes …

Devin, Eddie whispers, Go behind the counter and grab a few bottles of liquor and cigarettes. Quick! Before the clerk comes out. Eddie gives James the wire cutters to put in the backpack. Those are bolt cutters, stupid. James says. But that’s even better. They’ll cut through bike chains.

Devin, Moses registers, 5 ft. 7, chubby, about 200 lbs, curly brown or black hair, 18 to 20 years of age …

He sees Devin start to make his way behind the counter.

Dammit, Moses whispers to himself again as he sets his coffee next to a can of Spaghettios. He pulls his badge wallet in preparation to run the delinquents out. He catches out of the corner of his eye, an older customer, short in stature, hair disheveled and in tattered clothing, approaching the three youths. Moses slightly ducks his head again to remain unseen by those involved.

The older man shakes his head and tells the boys to put the stuff back. Devin freezes for a second to see what is going on.

Eddie and James turn toward the obviously homeless man as they continue to fill the backpack. Stuff ain’t free, the man continues, And we get a bad enough rap as it is.

James, one of the youths, responds, Mind your own business old man, unless you wanna be stuffed in the bag, too. The old man quips, I think I’ll take my chances, and grabs the strap of the backpack, pulling it away from the guys.

The jerking of the backpack causes the fill to fly out, as the store clerk returns to the counter. Hey! What’s going on here? The clerk shouts.

Devin makes for the door, knocking over an end cap of twinkies as he bolts out. The fall causes Devin to drop his loot on the ground. He gets up and scrambles for the exit. Eddie and James have already sprinted out the door, leaving empty handed. The homeless man stands alone, still holding on to the backpack strap.

The clerk picks up the phone and begins dialing the police. As the clerk is dialing, he turns to the man and says, I guess they call this red-handed. The man replies, This isn’t mine.

Tell it to the cops, the clerk states as he turns his attention back to the call. Hello? I didn’t hear you. Is this 911?

Moses appears out of nowhere, holding his badge up in the air. I got this, buddy! he exclaims, I’ll take it from here. I saw the whole thing.

Moses grabs the homeless guy’s free arm from behind and arm locks it behind his back, while grabbing his other arm at the elbow. Let’s go. Moses directs as he escorts the man out of the store.

The homeless man is passive and sees no reason to resist. Three hots and a cot for a night or two might allow me some rest. the homeless man ponders, as he steps toward Moses’ vehicle. Moses places the homeless man in the backseat of his unmarked car. The homeless man does not resist being placed in the car and is totally submissive throughout the procedure.

Moses circles the vehicle to get in on the driver’s side.

As Moses is backing out, the homeless man asks, So what now? Police station? Moses peers at the man in the rearview mirror and asks, What’s your name? The homeless man fell silent, staring out the right side of the passenger window. Give me a name, and I’ll tell you what comes next. Moses states again.

Am I under arrest? the homeless man asks, as the vehicle stops at a traffic light. Moses responds with a few questions, Are you handcuffed? How can you be arrested and not be handcuffed?

After about 5 seconds of awkward silence, Moses continues, Naw, you’re not under arrest, guy. I saw the whole thing. Commendable. You should’a beat the hell out of those kids. Consider the backpack a gift.

The homeless man answered, But it’s not mine. Nor is the stuff in it.

Moses volleys back, Yeah, yeah… if it means that much to you, I’ll take the stuff back or I’ll go back and pay for it. I just wanted to get you outta there. Is there somewhere you wanna go? Where do you wanna be dropped off?

The closest park will be fine, responds the innocent victim in this case. The name’s Arturo. Tury for short. Mendez is my last name. You can run me, but you won’t find anything. I’m just a guy trying to get by.

Moses pulls into the parking lot of the park that is frequented by most of the homeless in town, which wasn’t that far from the store. Here ya go. Moses states, as he halts the car. Need anything? he asks, turning toward the back seat to watch Tury get out.

Tury gets out, closes the back door and peers through the front seat passenger window. Tury reaches out to shake Moses’ hand.

Naw, I’m alright, Tury says, as he notices Moses reaching for his little bottle of hand sanitizer after the handshake. As Moses backs out of the parking space, Tury peeks in again and says, Wait! and with a deadpanned stare he asks Moses, Wanna buy a candy bar? reaching into his once confiscated backpack.

Yeah, right. Moses responds, kicking up gravel as he peels out of the parking lot.

Round