Raisuli Charriba

While Groggy Dundee and his men tracked down their crew of deserters, an eighteen year old girl named Marie Wynter entered the picture.

Marie was a very pleasant, very naive college student who was on vacation in Mexico with her group from the University of Alabama. It was a fun-filled trip exploring historical sights throughout Mexico, and getting to brush up on her Spanish. At night, she hung out in the hotels with her friends, drinking bottled water so that they didn't throw up all night long. Life was fun. She apparently didn't think to question why France had invaded Mexico, since no one on Earth seemed to have the slightest clue.

Marie sat on the porch of the hotel in Durango. She played with her blonde hair, braiding it and under-braiding. It was a nervous habit of hers, one she always did when bored. She had nothing to do except re-read her favorite novel, "Pride and Prejudice". It was a warm, peaceful night, the insects chirping, it being twilight - the last hint of sunlight on the horizon. She sipped her Iced Tea and applied some hand lotion before returning to her book. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Hey Marie!" a male voice called from inside.

Marie recognized the voice as that of her friend Ben. She opened the door and Ben entered.

"Hey, Marie," he said. "Listen, there are reports of hostile Indians around here. We've got to leave."

"Indians?" Marie was confused, and more than a bit incredulous.

"Yes, Indians. I know how crazy it sounds, but - hey, this is Mexico, isn't it?"

Marie laughed, calmly. "That's very funny. Now, about the meeting tomorrow -"

Her words were cut short by a strange sound:


Then, their teacher, Mr. Gates, came onto the patio. Before Marie or Ben could say anything, he collapsed, spiling Beth's iced tea everywhere.

"He's got a knife in his back," Marie gasped.

Before either could react, a horseman lept through the laticework bordering the patio. A small party of armed Indians in full war paint followed him in. They began charging towards Marie and Ben. Marie screamed loudly.

Ben whipped out a .38 caliber pistol - where he got it from is none of your business or mine - and began shooting down the attacking Indians. One fell and smashed his head on Marie's massive Spanish dictionary, the next fell onto the table, and a third went flying off the patio to the ground below.

"Ben, let's get out of here!" Marie screamed.

"Get down, Marie!" Ben said, coolly, firing another shot into the next Indian.

Another Indian came charging up. Ben aimed his pistol and fired. It was empty.

"Damn!" he exclaimed as his skull was cleaved by a hatchet.

As Ben fell, Marie turned to run, but she was scooped up by several Indians. While others rode through the hotel, abducting more college students, killing hotel staff, and genuinely making a nuisance of themselves, Marie was taken outside.

She then saw, seated, a man with longish hair and war paint. He turned to face her, solemnly.

Marie was too bewildered to do much of anything. Indians, here? In this day and age? What the hell was going on? Oh, sorry - what the heck. Marie was never the kind of person to use such. . . dirty words!

Sierra Charriba uneasily entered a new car - a crappy old Ford Taurus. He revved the engine and looked solemnly at his men, nodding, then drove it into a tree.

Marie was stunned, then began laughing. One of the tribesmen put a knife to her throat.

Charriba exited the car after scalping the air bag, walked over to Marie, mounted, and slapped her across the face.

"I am Sierra Charriba - do not laugh at me again!"

And so the Indians rode off with Marie and a host of other captives, into the desert. Loud horn music plays on the soundtrack as the camera pans down to focus on. . . the empty iced tea bottle.