La Linea (6 page)

Capitán Morales turned toward me. I could almost see his brain working, very slowly. Who was Elena? Who was I? How were we connected? All he could figure out was that Elena wasn't who she pretended to be. Anyone in Mexico would know that her face didn't match the
india
clothing she wore.

And then, at that very moment, the Yankee-capped young man, one of the brothers, muttered,
“Cobarde.”

He said it just loud enough for the
capitán
to hear. A guy like Morales must've heard bad words many times in his career. He must've been called lots of names. But to be called a coward, that was the worst. So much for his
machismo!

I saw the
capitán
's eyes change. The
capitán
felt disrespected, and he'd been disrespected enough already for one day. I knew that he'd stop trying to figure out who belonged in Mexico and who didn't. He didn't care who we were, where we came from, or where we were going. Morales would make us pay for his bad day.

For the first time, I was afraid.

Within minutes, Capitán Morales and two other armed
federales
escorted us onto the transport bus, all fifteen men I'd counted, plus Elena. No one protested. What would be the point? I sat, once again, next to Javier. I couldn't imagine how he felt, having to go back for a second time. Javi muttered quietly, repetitive and rhythmic phrases I couldn't make out. Prayers, probably.

Elena was in back of me. I felt her eyes bore into the back of my head, but I refused to turn and look at her.

The bus chugged slowly, to the south, toward the border with Guatemala. I remained motionless for many hours, watching the sun set on the wrong side of the bus. Morales would dump us on the other side of the river. My plan—Don Clemente's carefully laid plan—was in ruins. And Elena was to blame.

CHAPTER 13

The bus stopped just once before the border, in the pitch-black of night. One by one, the
federales
left the bus, walked away into the darkness, and quickly returned. I guessed they were going to pee. Elena had never been able to wait to go, and I knew she was suffering with every bump in the road. Well, fine. She deserved to suffer a little.

As for me, my butt hurt, my neck ached, and my legs were cramped from being doubled up. Morales had forbidden us to stand or change seats. The complaining finally began.

“
Ay,
Capitán, let us out, just for a minute,” one called out. “What do you want, a big mess on the bus?”

“Usa una botella,”
Morales sneered. He motioned for the driver to get going, sat back down, and pulled his cap over his eyes. Several men cursed him quietly.

“They're no better than the worms that feed on a dead corpse,” Javi said sourly, nodding his head in the direction of our jailers.

He rubbed his forehead with both hands and then ran his hands through his hair, attempting to comb it with his fingers. He shrugged, raising his hands palms up.

“But their work will be for nothing. We'll all come back, all of us.” Javier looked around the bus to confirm his opinion.

“This isn't the first time for them, either.” He pointed at the two brothers. Then he paused. “For them, it's a minor setback, nothing more.”

He motioned to the black man across the aisle. “And that guy? He's come all the way from Brazil! Do you know how far that is? He'd never let an idiot like Morales get in his way.”

Javier studied me curiously for a moment. Then he turned slightly in his seat to catch a glimpse of Elena behind us. “
¿Quién es?
Your girlfriend? What are you going to do about her? She's a liability, you know. She'll slow you down.”

Elena leaned forward, placing her chin on the edge of our seat. Her head was right between ours. “I won't slow anybody down because I'm traveling alone. And I'm
not
his girlfriend, I'm his sister. I already told him I know what to do and he doesn't need to worry about me.”

Elena spoke to Javier. She said it as if I weren't even there.

“Actually,” I said to Javi, ignoring Elena, “she's only thirteen years old. You can tell what a baby she is by how she behaves. Now I'll be forced to change all my plans and take her back home. She's so selfish, she didn't think that far ahead.”

“It's her fault we ended up like this,” I continued. “Most of us would be all the way to the border by now, if it weren't for her.”

I only half believed this, but I said it anyway to hurt Elena. It felt good to say the things I'd been thinking all night long.

Javi was grinning. He didn't seem to care who won the argument. He was just enjoying the entertainment.

“That's not true. That ugly, fat
capitán
would've let me back on the bus if Miguel hadn't called out my name the way he did.” Elena's voice got louder with each word. By then, half the bus was listening.

“And just who does he think is really selfish?
He's
the one that was going to leave me all by myself in San Jacinto. I know how to get north, and I'm going to do it.”

Elena stood up, gripping the metal edge of the seat with both hands. “I'm not going back to San Jacinto, not ever!” she screamed over my head.

Capitán Morales stood up at the front of the bus. He stared long and hard at Elena, hitched up his pants, and yelled, “Shut up, all of you!” Morales turned back toward the driver.
“¡Cállensen!”

Just then, the bus lurched. Morales lost his balance. He reached for the seat nearest him, missed the back, and fell on his knees in the aisle. He grunted and pushed himself up. His pants fell down. We all could see most of his giant naked butt.

Elena giggled quietly behind me. Javier's laugh began low in his gut, and ended in a series of loud snorts that flew out his nose, like a donkey's bray. It ended in a giant wheeze. I began to laugh. I couldn't help it. Then everyone started to laugh, with Javi, and at Morales. For the moment, we didn't care if Morales got back at us.

But Morales made like it never happened. At the front of the bus, in front of us all, he adjusted his uniform jacket and sweat-stained cap. He pulled up his pants once more, trying to get them over his bulging gut.

Finally, he withdrew his pistol from its holster and inspected it casually. The barrel gleamed in the half light of the dawning sun glowing through the window of the bus. It was all an act, like his earlier shakedown, but it worked. Silence fell over the bus again.

Javier's wheezing that had begun with his laughter hadn't stopped. His chest rose and fell with his efforts to take in air, but he didn't stop smiling.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I wonder if this guy is as stupid as he looks. I think he might be. I'm going to find out.”

With that, Javier scrunched down, settled his head against the metal edge on the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. I fell asleep to the sound of Javi's breaths, loud and insistent.

CHAPTER 14

My stomach growled loudly, waking me from my nap. I kicked my backpack angrily. I regretted gobbling down every bite of Abuelita's tacos and fruit the day before. Suddenly, without a word said, food appeared. It came out of pockets, duffel bags, backpacks, paper sacks. Someone peeled oranges and passed the pieces around. My share was two small slices. The black man took out a
torta,
unwrapped it, and tore it into rough chunks to share.

There were pieces of taco, tortilla, a few
chicharrones,
some dry cookies. Elena dug up a brown, squishy banana. She broke off an end piece and passed it up to me. She knew it was the only part of a banana I liked. She meant it as a small peace offering. I ate it, but I didn't feel like making peace with her. I wouldn't ever forgive her stupidity.

Out the window, I saw the landscape had changed. A thick forest, almost a jungle, lined the rutted road. The bus slowed to a crawl. A long line of people walked single file on both sides of the road, most headed the opposite direction from us. Through the front window of the bus, I could barely see the outline of a town in the distance.

A lazy green river snaked along the road part of the way. Discarded plastic bottles, car tires, and rusty cans littered the banks. A small flotilla of makeshift rafts ferried dozens of people across the slow-moving water from Guatemala to Mexico.

Javi pointed. “Look,” he said knowingly. “See how easy it is here? I told you. You pay a few
pesos,
they bring you back across.”

Small open-air stands with palm-frond roofs sold a variety of goods: food, cigarettes, beer, clothing of all kinds, hats. Several stalls advertised notaries who could provide “expert assistance with documents.” I laughed to myself. This was the border. You could buy anything here. You could get anything here. You just had to pay for it.

Javier nudged me with his elbow. “There, up there, that's the bridge we cross. Over there is Guatemala.”

He pointed, then shifted his body closer. “But why should we have to cross over, just to come back the same day, or the next? Doesn't that seem ridiculous to you?

“We'll stop before the bridge for procedures. You know, the usual paperwork. They'll take us out of the bus to escort us across.”

He leaned his head even closer, and whispered in my ear. “Watch me carefully. I'm going to try an old trick that's proved useful several times in the past. If you see a chance, escape.”

Javier looked around the bus at all the young men. He turned in his seat and looked at Elena, then at me again. He smiled to himself, as if he had a private joke.

“Pass the word to everyone,” he said. “Tell them what I told you. Be quiet about it.”

I whispered Javi's instructions to Elena and to the brothers in front of us. I told them to pass it on. I leaned across the aisle and delivered them to the black man. His brows knit together as I spoke. He leaned forward to relay the message.

Before long, the news of a possible escape traveled the length of the bus. We sat higher in our seats. For the first time since the disaster with Morales began, I felt hopeful. Even if Javi's scheme failed, whatever it was, we would have tried.

As Javier predicted, the bus ground to a halt next to a small adobe building. A slight, mousy man in a uniform motioned to the
federales.
One exited the bus and huddled with the border official. Straight ahead was the bridge, a rickety structure that looked like it couldn't support the weight of a bicycle, much less a bus.

Morales ordered us off and herded us close to the building. I clutched my backpack and eyed Javi sideways, waiting and wondering. Morales gave us a mean look, fondled his pistol in its holster, and moved out of earshot. He continued to stab at his clipboard with his index finger, trying to make some point. The immigration official appeared to disagree, shaking his head.

The other
federales
wandered over toward Morales. Papers were passed back and forth, heads bent over Morales's clipboard, check marks were made. I was sure some money would change hands. They'd pay each other to keep quiet about all the things each was doing wrong.

Morales's face got redder by the moment. I could imagine him running drugs or guns or prostitutes. We were probably nothing to him, just a little extra pocket change.

Javi whispered in my ear, “He wants to dump us like trash in Guatemala. Well, he's got a surprise coming. Watch me ruin Morales's day.”

Javi began to walk toward the officials. He swayed and stumbled, clutching his throat and choking. Then he fell flat on the ground, right in front of Morales. His eyes rolled back in his head until I could see only the whites. His legs, then his arms began to jerk violently. White foam appeared at the corners of his mouth. He wailed, a sound more animal than human.

Javi had said it was an old trick, but it looked like the real thing. A crowd gathered, mixing with our group. Morales looked at Javi like he was some strange creature he'd never seen before.

Finally, Morales began a feeble attempt to control Javi's flailing limbs. He got his beefy arms around Javi's chest and yelled to the other officials, “Get over here! Get this guy out of here!”

I grabbed Elena's hand and took one slow step back. I made eye contact with the two brothers, and the black man. We nodded to each other. Already, the
indios
and five or six of the other men had disappeared. They'd left quickly and silently, melting into the crowd that surrounded Javier. It was as if they had never existed.

I turned and ran, dragging Elena after me. I heard screams, gunshots, and Morales's booming voice. “
¡Alto! ¡Alto!
Halt or I'll shoot!”

More shots rang out. Was Morales mad enough to shoot Javi right there? Had he figured out it was a trick? Javi had taken a big risk. He had more to lose than we did, a lot more. After all, he had a family to think about, a son my age, a daughter, a wife. And he was a lot older, ancient, older even than Papá. He'd already tried once to make it, and had failed.

If he escaped Morales, if he made it across from Guatemala again, he'd be desperate. Who wouldn't?

We ran faster than we'd ever run before. I held Elena's hand tighter than I needed to. I wouldn't lose her. I intended to put her on the first bus that I could find home, to San Jacinto. And then I'd go north, alone.

I didn't even want to think about what Morales would do if he caught us.

CHAPTER 15

We had two choices for escape: back in the direction the bus traveled, cutting into the dense forest around the bend, or straight toward the center of town. I chose the second. We ran headlong into the crowds of people in the
zócalo
and the
mercado
next to it. Maybe we could blend in and lose Morales forever.