"Squeak, squeak..."
The wind blew against the old door panel, making an irritating noise that disturbed dream sleep. When Bruce opened his eyes, the morning light shone through a piece of missing glass in the window frame.
Just as he was about to muster his strength to get up from the floor, he felt a sharp pain in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Bruce groaned in short, deep pain while clutching his neck.
Clark, sleeping beside him, woke up to the commotion. He looked at Bruce with sleepy eyes, but became alert in a matter of seconds. He looked at Bruce worriedly and asked, "What's wrong? Has your wound opened again?"
Bruce gently shook his head and lay back down, "I feel like I have a crick in my neck," he said.
Clark sat up, sighed, then walked to the door to make some room for Bruce before helping him up.
The room they were in was a guest room in an old post-office inn. There were no beds, just row of wooden frames about a fist high. They were the kind of wooden slats used under crates, with a worn mattress on top. The springs protruded from the sides, snagging Clark's clothes.
Diana was staying in the next room which had a bed, but the gentlemen, Bruce and Clark, did not give up their room for her. Instead, Diana had given the room with the mattress to Bruce, who was a mere mortal.
In Diana's room, there was only a bed frame with no mattress. Diana had to use her Amazon survival skills and make a hammock out of plastic sheets to barely get through the night.
Despite what many people think, Latin America is not all backward. There are quite a few decently developed cities.
But the terrifying part is that there is almost no infrastructure outside the cities. Not to mention water and electricity, many places do not even have roads. The place where Bruce, Clark, and Diana were staying was a perfect example.
Yes, this was not an abandoned post office inn. It was still in business and even had quite a few guests. More importantly, it was the only place within tens of kilometers that had a telephone line.
Hal instructed the three to wait for him there while he used his Green Lantern powers to search for Oliver throughout the mountains and fields. Once found, the others would join them.
Due to the extremely lagging infrastructure, communication mainly relied on shouting, which was no laughing matter. Once Bruce, Clark, and Diana understood that the Guadalajara New Democratic Army led by Oliver had relied on manpower and radio contact for quite some time, they accepted their living conditions without complaints.
Bruce, Clark, and Diana gathered in Diana's room. They used the bed frame as a table where Clark used heat vision to roast some corn for breakfast. Diana asked the innkeeper for some clean water. After washing up, they sat around the "table" munching the corn.
"Honestly, the conditions here are beyond what I imagined," Clark said, shaking his head. "The only difference between here and a primitive forest is, the resources are not as abundant as in the forest."
Diana took a sip of water and said, "You might have a misconception about the primitive forest. The Amazon has electricity and running water. We maintain the appearance of primitive living because that's how we prefer to live, and it draws tourist revenue."
"The Amazon isn't incapable of modernization. We just don't stand to gain much from it. We are not a resource-rich country and we don't have heavy industry, so most of our economy depends on tourism."
"If it begins to look like most cities in the world, no one would come for a visit. Tourists enjoy experiencing primitive lifestyles, so we maintain ours. However, this place is clearly not the same."
"There are many slums without water or electricity in Mexico's more prosperous cities, let alone in rural areas in the wilderness. Leaving aside their financial abilities to develop, the rampant gangs and drug lords made it impossible for them to exercise effective control. Without such control, development is but empty talk."
As Bruce munched on his corn, he spoke. He chewed the corn kernels in his mouth a bit, then looked down at the corncob in his hands, surprised. The taste of the corn was beyond his expectations; it was delicious.
Clark shook the corn in his hand and said, "This variety of corn was also grown at home. It's especially good when boiled and directly eaten, or slathered with sauce as grilled corn. However, the corn grown here tastes better than the one at home. Mexico is truly deserving of its title as the Land of Corn."
Diana nodded in agreement with what Clark had said, but soon, her face turned worried. "Unless the gangs are thrown out, these areas can't be effectively controlled, and without control, there can be no development. But the less developed an area is, the poorer it will be. Without money, it's even more impossible to expel the gangs. The more they have to rely on the drug economy, the more it becomes a vicious cycle."
"While Oliver has made some progress, how many places like this exist in Latin America? It's a daunting and long journey indeed."
As the three munched on their corn and discussed the current situation in Latin America, a green portal suddenly appeared in the room. Hal and Oliver walked out of the portal. Oliver looked so different that it was hard to recognize him.
After being stranded on the deserted island, Oliver looked ragged and haggard. His days of survival in the wilderness scrubbed off his former privileged demeanor. But his recent experiences in Mexico seemed to have reshaped his character.
Oliver was dressed in a dark brown short sleeve shirt, popular among Mexicans, with a vest draped over his shoulder. He wore a slightly faded, pirate version of a Yankees baseball cap on his head.
He had lost a lot of weight, his whole figure now resembling little more than a skeleton. His eyes were deeply sunken, and his skin was somewhat dark from the sun, making him appear a decade older. Yet, within his eyes, there was a surprising radiance.
When Oliver and Bruce saw each other, they both froze.
Bruce's appearance had changed too; his trip to the slums of Gotham had caused him to thin significantly. Although he later regained some weight through proper nutrition and vigorous workouts, he was different from when they had first met.
Oliver looked more vibrant, while Bruce seemed a bit more relaxed and sluggish. Their transformations appeared to run in the opposite directions, yet perhaps they were really converging into the same place.
The two American playboys, notorious young masters, after experiencing all kinds of trials and tribulations, found in each other's eyes a hint of the world's evocative transformation.
Oliver and Bruce didn't say anything, but it felt like they'd said everything. They walked forward and embraced each other. Oliver glanced at Clark and Diana, showing that Hal had indeed filled him in.
They stepped into a portal together, and when they reappeared, Bruce found himself in a small village. Neat and orderly, the village was so small that you could see from one end to the other at a glance.
The villagers were mostly dark-skinned, dressed in deeply colored T-shirts or plaid shirts, with sun hats on their heads. Their clothes were not new, some even dusty. Their gaze towards outsiders appeared a bit unfriendly, but each had something to do and hurried away after just glancing at Bruce and his companions.
Oliver pointed towards the southern part of the village, saying, "Over there is a tributary of the Ameca River. We recently established a camp here, at the edge of an existing small village, which is also the hometown of one of our members."
After finishing his explanation, he looked left and right before shouting something in the local dialect, summoning a lean young man.
The youth, a brown-skinned Latino, looked very skinny, which made his head seem disproportionately large. However, from the tight muscles visible on his arms, it was clear that he had been engaged in physical labor for a long period. His face bore the marks of wind and sun exposure, but his youthful age could still be discerned from his features.
The enchanting aspect of a Latino's appearance is that he might seem fierce when not smiling, yet once he smiles, he exudes the unique passion and liveliness of Latin America.
Oliver patted the young man's back and said, "This is Gonzalez. Well, there are probably about six other Gonzalezes in this village. It's a common surname here. You can just call him 'Little P'."
The young Mexican boy revealed a shy smile, shaking hands with Bruce. In his somewhat rusty English, he said, "Welcome to Vicar. This is our new base."
Following up on his introduction, Oliver said, "Vicar Village is one of the 26 villages that we currently control. It's not the largest, but it's in the best geographical location and has the most farmland around."
"I've chosen a large patch of land next to the Ameca River on the west side of the village to be our experimental field. Over half of this area used to be under the control of the Guadalajara mob, where they cultivated opium poppies. Now, I intend to switch to growing grain."
As Oliver spoke, he led his companions on a tour around the village, lowering the brim of his hat, he said, "We actually do not lack food right now, but we must cultivate this land. We need to show everyone that growing food can also provide a living, not only growing opium for the mob."
Oliver stopped, turned around and said, "Actually, many people who work with me are not very convinced. For a period of time, the Mexican Government stopped supporting agriculture, which hurt many farmers and resulted in them losing their land to the constant battles between the mob and the government."
"Now that I propose we start growing crops again, they are worried that we'll wind up like the Mexican Government. We must present a feasible plan, not just grow crops, but grow them well, not just produce them, but ensure that we can sell them."
Oliver spread his hands, saying, "Simply killing drug lords and seizing their land is not enough. The real challenge is not to eradicate the drug industry; the challenge is how to find a new industry to replace it."
"Only when a brand-new and more beneficial industry takes root in this land, can we truly eradicate the reason for the existence of evil."
"I have uprooted the opium crops in this land, restoring it to its original state. However, if we don't quickly sow new seeds and let the people fill their bellies with the fruit of their sustainable labor, the flower of evil will never truly vanish."
With Oliver's words, Bruce gazed into the distance.
The lofty and far-reaching sky intertwined with hues of blue and purple, strikingly bright as if it were a gemstone. The golden morning light shone through the clouds and silhouetted the towering trees and cacti. The primal charm of this ancient land needed no embellishment, its beauty was awe-inspiring.
The farmers started their day, carrying their tools and walking out one after another. In the dim morning light, their steps crossed the field ridges. Their calloused hands felt the wind as it moved between the crops, gripping onto the thread of hope to create a better life through hard work. It was as if they were grasping a cloud.
No land is inherently evil, Bruce thought. The earth nourishes every seed and those who sow them unconditionally. What you reap depends on what you sow, one of the rare instances of fairness in the world.
What's deemed as cursed land is only the slander of those who have been expelled from it. The earth holds no malice towards anyone, always full of hope and ready to welcome the next spring.
Standing on the field ridge, looking at the fields, Bruce realized as he felt a hint of anticipation in his heart that spring was truly here.