270
The e-mail arrived after they took O from the compound, so she didn’t read:
271
We had for a brief time a civilization that clung to a thin strip of land between the ocean and the desert.
Water was our problem, too much of it on one side, too little on the other, but it didn’t stop us. We built houses, highways, hotels, shopping malls, condo complexes, parking lots, parking structures, schools, and stadiums.
We proclaimed the freedom of the individual, bought and drove millions of cars to prove it, built more roads for the cars to drive on so we could go the everywhere that was nowhere. We watered our lawns, we washed our cars, we gulped plastic bottles of water to stay hydrated in our dehydrated land, we put up water parks.
We built temples to our fantasies—film studios, amusement parks, crystal cathedrals, megachurches—and flocked to them.
We went to the beach, rode the waves, and poured our waste into the water we said we loved.
We reinvented ourselves every day, remade our culture, locked ourselves in gated communities, we ate healthy food, we gave up smoking, we lifted our faces while avoiding the sun, we had our skin peeled, our lines removed, our fat sucked away like our unwanted babies, we defied aging and death.
We made gods of wealth and health.
A religion of narcissism.
In the end, we worshipped only ourselves.
In the end, it wasn’t enough.
272
A crossroads out in the desert.
Because why not?
There’s a convenient pullover where the cars can pull up and make the trade.
And Elena’s troops can gun them all down and be gone long before the sheriffs or the INS can get there.
They all know this.
Lado knows it.
His men sure as hell know it.
Any reader of Western fiction or fan of Western movies knows it.
Ben and Chon know it.
And go anyway.
Because it has to happen.
273
They take the pony, of course.
Loaded with two shotguns, two pistols, and two AR-15s.
If they’re going out, they’re going out blazing.
Shoot Magdalena up with just enough junk to keep her docile and walk her out of her motel arm-in-arm-in- arm. Put her in the backseat, tape her mouth shut and her wrists in front of her.
Long quiet drive out to the desert.
What’s there to talk about and what do you put on the radio as a soundtrack to kidnapping and killing?
Silence is better.
Nothing to say anyway.
274
For the first time in her life, Elena feels sheer terror.
A nausea deep in her stomach.
And the time just … will … not … pass.
She jumps at the knock on her bedroom door.
Lado’s wife, Delores.
She’s on the verge of tears and Elena is strangely touched by her simpatico.
“Elena,” she says. “I know you have … so much … on your mind, but—”
Her voice quivers and then she starts to cry.
“My dear friend,” Elena says. “Whatever is so wrong?”
She puts her arm around the woman’s shoulder, leads her into the room, and shuts the door behind them.
Delores tells Elena all about her husband, what he did, what he’s done.
275
Short ride for O.
She’s out for most of it on Ambien.
Pharmaceutical duct tape.
Wakes up shivering in the cold desert night.
“We’re close,” Lado says.
So close, he thinks, to winning it all.
His men left an hour early and are in position around the pull-off.
