La Linea (13 page)

Had I come this far to feel just like I did in San Jacinto? To be somewhere and nowhere at the same time? To belong and be lost at the same time?

We fell silent. The tension had lifted. Elena sighed, almost contentedly. Moisés set himself to the task of charting our course; Javi stood next to him, closely studying the landmarks that Moisés pointed out.

“I always thought I'd know exactly the moment I crossed the border,” I admitted, folding up the tarpaulin. “I thought I'd feel it, somehow. But I didn't even know. I had no idea. How could I not have felt something?”

Moisés, who had most likely crossed the border dozens of times, just shrugged. And with that, he strode off toward the North at an even faster pace than before.

CHAPTER 27

The morning started out cool, but the reprieve from the heat didn't last long. Moisés led us northeast across the sandy desert floor. Javi still brought up the rear, and Elena had also now fallen behind me. She didn't complain or ask to stop once, even though the sun now beat down relentlessly. And then the terrain turned uneven and rocky, but it didn't slow Moisés down one bit.

We stopped before noon at a large outcropping. It consisted of several large boulders leaning against each other at odd angles.

“We stop here for the afternoon.” Moisés motioned us to the eastern side of the rocks.

“The rocks will give us some shade during the hottest part of the day. The shadows will get longer later in the afternoon,” he explained.

In the shade, Moisés rationed out several large gulps of water and packets of brown sugar.

“Get out the tarps.” He reached into his own backpack. “Once I check for rattlers, we'll spread them out and rest.”

He cautiously inspected several likely spots for snakes: underneath a ledge jutting out from one of the rocks, an indentation between two of the boulders, and a hole that appeared to lead down into the ground right next to where our heads would be when we stretched out.

“Good,” he announced. For the first time, he smiled. He was clearly in charge, in his element. “We've made decent progress. We're just where we should be.”

He kicked a few random rocks out of the way. His smile widened. “We were lucky to get such a nice hotel this time of year. People just can't seem to get enough of this place. They're dying to come here!”

Moisés pointed to the left. “Your room is here, Javier. Sorry, Miguel and Elena, you'll have to share a suite.”

“That's okay,” I replied. “We're used to it.” If Moisés felt like we could have a little fun, I'd play along.

I pictured the postcards of the fancy Acapulco hotel Tío had worked at, before he got lonely for Tía and the kids and came back home. All I could remember was the water, pool after pool of perfect, clear blue water.

“I think I'll go down to the pool later for a swim. Anyone want to go with me?”

“I'll go,” Elena chimed in. “But first I'm going to take a nap in this nice, big, soft bed.” She patted the hard ground under the tarp.

“For me, a hot shower, first. Then, a steak,
papas fritas.
Maybe two steaks.” Javi smacked his lips.

“Well, enjoy your stay,” Moisés said. “I'll wake you when it's time to check out.”

He lay down flat on his back on the far edge, closed his eyes, and appeared to be asleep within moments. He probably made the same joke every time he came through here with a group of
pollitos.
Things were going well. We all felt like we could afford a joke.

Elena picked up the corner of the tarp nearest her and checked for rattlers one last time. She seemed satisfied and rolled over onto her side. Javi loosened his boots slightly but didn't take them off. He sighed, lay back, put up one knee, and propped his bad ankle on top.

I lay for some minutes just listening, but all I heard was our own breathing. I thought I heard the roar of a small engine far, far off, but the sound was gone before I was sure I'd heard it. A hawk screeched after prey. A whiff of a hot breeze blew silently across the sand, just enough to move a few grains here and there. The sand moaned softly, then went quiet again.

I filled up the silence with imagining the sound of Abuelita's voice, gravelly and low, talking and humming to herself as she worked. What would she say if she saw this place? I bet she and Doña Maria would say to beware. I fell asleep holding Abuelita's medallion in my right hand.

I woke to Moisés's voice, low and urgent. “I heard something. I'm going to investigate. Stay here. Don't move. I'll be back quickly.”

Moisés picked up his pack and headed around the northern edge of our outcropping. Elena hunkered down next to the closest boulder. Javi and I crawled as far as we could in the shelter of the stones. Then we crouched and peered out around the last rock.

Moisés was making his way north across a stretch of rolling dunes. Beyond the dunes were several small hills dotted with cactus. He went up and down with the landscape, finally disappearing beyond the crest of the first hill.

“It's probably nothing,” Javi said knowingly. “The desert can play tricks on you. It can make you believe things are there that aren't.

“You know about a mirage, the trick of light,” he continued. “Distances, too, they trick you. Things look closer than they really are. The illusions are everywhere.”

He crawled back to Elena. They both took drinks from Javi's water supply. My mouth was bone dry and fuzzy, so I checked my own water. Almost half of it was gone. Moisés had done a good job of rationing. I drank thirstily. The rocks cast giant shadows now. I figured we'd been out for twenty-four hours.
Muy bien.
We'd make it. Moisés had led us into this place, and he would lead us out.

And then, the
crack!
of a rifle echoed across the desert from the north. Elena's head jerked up. Javi froze. No more shots followed the first, but fear spread through my arms and legs. I didn't feel the heat anymore. I was colder than I'd ever been.

“It could be
la migra.
They could've fired a warning shot, perhaps,” said Javi. “But I don't think it's the law. It's the other ones, the militia that Moisés said would be here.” He bent quickly to fold up the tarps and stow the remaining water.

Elena didn't budge, except for her head. It moved side to side, like radar scanning for signs of life. “Shh!” she said. “Did you hear that? I heard something else!”

No one moved. From the north came the whine of an engine straining to mount a hill. I crawled once more to the edge of the outcropping to search for any sign of Moisés. Coming down the closest hill and across the dunes was an open four-wheel-drive vehicle. An oversized United States flag flew from the antenna.

Two men in military-type camouflage fatigues sat in front. The one in the passenger seat held his rifle ready, the sun reflecting off his wraparound sunglasses. Moisés's long body lolled across the backseat.

They appeared to be heading straight toward us. I crouched lower. “Don't move!” I turned to warn Javi and Elena. “Keep down! It's the militia!”

Not more than one hundred meters from us, the driver turned the vehicle toward the west. Moisés's head rolled to one side, his eyes closed. He held one hand to his right shoulder where blood oozed from a wound. Cradled in his other arm was his backpack.

I started to get up, but Javi pulled me back. The last thing I saw was Moisés slowly pushing his backpack out of the side of the jeep. It landed with a soft thud on the desert floor.

Javi, Elena, and I sat, unmoving, for many minutes. We waited until we could no longer hear the sound of the engine, until silence descended again on the desert. We stood together and looked to the west. There was no sign of the jeep, not even a hint of dust.

“He threw his backpack out as close as he could to us. It's over there.” I pointed to the black blob in front of us.

We approached the pack slowly, as if it were alive, and dangerous. A dark circle of wetness spread out around it.

“Es mi agua,”
Elena said, pointing at the wet sand. “He had the rest of my water.”

She knelt down, picked up the pack and turned it over easily. The bullet in Moisés's shoulder had first ripped through both sides of the pack, leaving a hole big enough to put your finger through.

Elena pulled her hands away from the pack. They were rosy pink, a mixture of Moisés's blood and the water he was carrying, the same colors as the sunset on the western horizon.

CHAPTER 28

It was just the three of us again. I'd started out my journey alone. Elena had made us become two, then Javi had made us become three. Moisés made four. We should have finished as four. I didn't like the math.

Moisés was gone. Everything he knew about the desert, good and bad, was gone. His water and most of Elena's was all gone, swallowed by the desert sand. I had less than half of my water, Javi about the same. Water couldn't be stretched. Even with the best of luck, there was enough for two of us, not three. More math.

We were going to make it, or we weren't. We were going to live, or we were going to die. So, right off, we broke two of the rules Moises had spelled out for us. First, we sat right on the ground. Second, we talked, more than we had to. Behind the boulders, we made a plan.

“We'll walk again tonight, as far as we can,” Javi said. “Moisés said to head to the east of that mountain.”

He pointed at the jagged peak that loomed in the distance to the north. One kilometer away? Ten? Twenty? More?

“There, somewhere, is a town, and a highway. West for you two. East for me.”

Javi held out his thumb, as if he were hitching a ride. In Moisés's pack we'd found some twenty-dollar bills. It seemed like enough to buy us bus tickets or a ride, but who knew?

I didn't have much experience with dollars. Papá and Mamá could never get enough dollars together to send for us, even when they worked nonstop, day and night. Maybe one of those twenty-dollar bills was like nothing in California. Maybe people carried around dozens of them, big piles of them, just to buy a bit of goat meat or some milk or to put a little gas in the car.

Javi looked to the east. “How far do you think we can see? How far before there's a river or a stream, any water at all?”

I shrugged. There was nothing to block our view. The sky had turned from dark blue to a blue so deep it was nearly black. There was no hint of the horizon, no clue as to where the desert, or the earth, ended.

“New York is over there, somewhere. If I just walk east, I'll get there. I'll see my brother. He's waiting for me, you know. He's expecting me, soon. All I have to do is get there.”

Javi stood up and took a few steps eastward. He seemed ready to take off into the darkness at that moment, in the wrong direction.

“Javi.” I rose to stop him.

“You take the lead,” Javi said, turning back to me. “Walk at Moisés's pace. I'll keep up. Don't worry about me. You have to make it tonight … you don't have a choice.”

“What if we don't make it?” Elena asked quietly. “What if we get lost, or we run out of water?”

“We're going to make it, Elena.” I said it as much for my benefit as for hers. I let the possibility of failure creep up from deep in my mind, then pushed the thought back down. Failing now meant dying. “It's too late to give up now, isn't it?”

“But what if
one
of us can't make it?” Elena persisted. She wanted everything spelled out.

Even in the heat, goose bumps popped up on my arms. Goose bumps, not for a
chupacabra
or
La Llorona
or stolen body parts. They were a result of cold, deep fear at having to make a choice that no one should have to make.
Escalofríos, no de fantasmas, sino de vida y muerte.

“It's all of us or none of us,” Elena declared. “We won't leave anyone behind. We won't … I won't. I can't.”

“It won't come to that. It doesn't have to come to that. If worse comes to worst, give yourselves up to
la migra.
” Javi grabbed the edge of a boulder to steady himself. His breath came again in ragged puffs.

“Look,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “It's better to be alive to try again. You're young. Your whole life is in front of you. If you cross enough times, you'll make it sooner or later.”

So we set out. Before the moon rose, the night was as black as black could be. I tried to walk quickly but I had to watch every step to avoid a rock or a rut or a cactus in our way. Then, when the moon did rise, we came to terrain crisscrossed with ravines. We slid down the soft earth and sand on one side, picked our way across, and climbed clumsily up the other side.

Javi and Elena grunted behind me as we crossed through our third ravine. The bottom of it was covered with stunted mesquite and chaparral. We had to push our way through thorny branches that punctured our arms, even through our long sleeves. Deep scratches soon covered my palms and the backs of my hands. Was this the route that Moisés intended to take? Maybe he knew a different path around this part of hell.

But we didn't stop. After midnight, clouds began to cover the moon. I paused briefly to check our progress. The mountain was still in the right position, but it didn't look much closer than before. I was disheartened, but I kept it to myself.

More clouds built up across the sky and, to the east, a mighty bolt of lightning cut down to the ground. Thunder followed. I sniffed the air. The smell of newly wet earth reached us. It was raining to the east.

Huge sheets of lightning showed our way briefly, followed by deafening thunder and then complete darkness. We had to stop to let our eyes adjust to the change. Each time, the lightning seemed more blinding. Each time, the darkness seemed darker. The thunder reverberated in my skull and my ribs and my shins.