From the darkness of the crypts, figures began to rise. They weren't zombies. They weren't ghosts. They were the abuelos . The veterans.
The Norteños retreated, vanishing back over the wall like cementerio de cholos
One of the old men stepped forward. He was missing an eye. It was Tío Lucho, a man who had supposedly died in a prison riot ten years ago. He wasn't dead. He was just hiding. Living among the tombs, a ghost in his own right. From the darkness of the crypts, figures began to rise
– Several underground hip-hop or norteño artists have used this phrase for tracks. For example, "Cementerio de Cholos" is a song by Los Angeles-based rap group Conejo or other West Coast Chicano rappers, often dealing with themes of street life, death, and loyalty. They were the abuelos
Rucio stopped in front of a specific tomb. It was distinct. While the others were gray and decaying, this one was painted a vibrant, electric blue. A Harley Davidson logo was stenciled on the side. Empty beer bottles lined the top. The photo inside the glass showed a man laughing, a bandana tied around his forehead, a gap-toothed smile.
"That’s not us," Chato whispered.