“Stop!” I screamed as I pulled out the gun. My hand shook as I tried to hold it steady. He lifted his chin in derisive laughter; then I saw his arm swinging upwards. I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger.
A loud crack split the air as I was knocked back from the force of the gun and stumbled over a pile of wood. As I fell, I heard screams and groans, then the sound of dirt and rocks scattering onto the fire. I scrambled to my feet in complete darkness. Beside me, I could hear Rosa’s soft moans as she struggled to stand as well. Then someone was coming toward us. I raised my pack in front of my face to ward off the blow, but an arm went around me instead, and Manuel’s voice, reassuring and firm, said, “Alma, soy yo, Alma, it’s me.” Then, as if in flight, my feet left the ground with Manuel’s arm underneath mine, lifting me, pulling me, pushing me out the back, into the field.
“Rosa!” I shouted.
“She’s here, right behind us!” Manuel said, and I could hear her panting as well.
“Faster, faster,” he kept saying. We ran in the darkness, stumbling over rocks, as we made our way to what I now realized was the rumbling roar of a freight train. My legs were heavy with fear, but Manuel’s arm never left mine.
Then we were beside the rattling boxcars, running, panting, gasping. Sparks flew from its wheels, lighting our way. Slinging my backpack over one shoulder, I glanced back to see Rosa, with the boys on either side of her, just a few feet behind.
“Grab the metal bar, the ladder!” Manuel shouted, pointing just above waist level. We were close enough now to see the boxcar ladder on the inside corner above a set of wheels. It was within arm’s reach, and though the train was slowing, it still seemed fast and frightening to me.
“Rosa!” I screamed. “Rosa!”
I could hear her shouting, “Go! Go! I’m right behind!”
Manuel was panting beside me, then a quick intake of breath and he shouted, “Up, up! ¡Ahora! Now, now, now!”
“I can’t. No!” But my arm reached out anyway, my legs propelled me forward, and I flew, grabbing the metal bar and heaving myself up with a determined force. Beneath me I felt suction like the undertow of the river in Chiapas, but I thrust upward with a grunt. The strap of my pack tugged hard on my shoulder as it flung back, hitting with a thud repeatedly as I climbed the roaring monster. My hands grasped, clawed, and clung. My feet found footholds I couldn’t see. I could hear movement below me, but my focus stayed on the few feet above. Suddenly I found the top and pulled myself up with a groan, but a searing pain tore through me as my leg scraped a jagged edge. Cold air stung my cheeks like dry ice. My long braid flew up with such force, I feared it would pull me backwards. I crawled forward to the center of the boxcar’s roof, trembling, sobbing; then, I turned to reach for Rosa.
“Down. Just lie flat.” Manuel’s voice in my ear. I obeyed and collapsed, face down, eyes closed. I could hear muffled shouts behind me, but when I lifted my head, the roar blew them away.
“Rosa!” I shouted her name into the wind, then lowered my head and strained to hear an answer. “Where’s Rosa?” I cried.
Manuel was beside me again, shouting in my ear. “With the boys . . . behind us. Just keep down and stay quiet. I’m not sure why the train is slowing. Might be a checkpoint.” But no sooner had he spoken these words then the train began to pick up speed. I heard Manuel let out a long, deep sigh.
“Don’t worry, Alma, it will be okay,” he said, trying to comfort me.
“But Rosa, did you see her? Are you sure she got on?”
His face told me the answer before he could speak. “I think I heard the boys shout that they were all right, but I could go back and check.” He sat up and glanced back, then let out a long whistle. He repeated this, three times. No answer. “The moon is bright tonight. I can see well enough. It would just take a few minutes. I won’t be long.”
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst through my chest. I didn’t want to be left alone, but I was desperate to know about Rosa. I wasn’t going anywhere without her. What if she didn’t make it? What if she was injured or stranded alone back there, or worse?
I’d jump off the damn train if I had to.
“Are you sure you can do this?” I asked, raising up on one arm and looking toward the edge.
“I’ve done it many times. Many, many times.”
“And you’ll only be gone a few minutes?”
“Prometo. I promise.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Go! But please hurry, and be careful!”
I heard him land on the next car, but beyond that was only the roar of the wind in my ears. I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness, and waited, and waited. Minutes passed. I shouted into the darkness, but no answer returned. I shouted again and again until my voice was hoarse, but the roar of the train only tossed my words into the air and blew them away like shredded corn husks.
I curled up in a fetal position, hugging my pack to my chest, and began to sob softly as the train lurched and lumbered its way through Chiapas. The harsh rocking movement stirred memories of that horrible bus ride from Oaxaca and my life with Papá to Chiapas and Tito’s stick house. How my heart had ached with each turn of the wheel away from Papá then, and now, though these wheels were turning back toward him, it meant nothing without Rosa. I prayed to her
