Utterly exhausted, I was eventually rocked into a deep sleep, dreaming of dark winged creatures swooping high and low as they maneuvered their way through narrow canyon passes.
When I woke, I was surrounded in gray. I struggled to lift my head, but my rigid neck would not yield. I pushed up with my arms and slowly turned my head forward. As I bent my knees, a pain shot up my leg and continued to throb as I drew them up and under me. Slowly I rose up, lifted my head, and looked around.
Like our drive down the mountain, I was immersed in a fog so thick I could not see the edge of the boxcar. A cold mist soaked my face and hair like steady rain, and the wind whistled like one hundred flutes playing an ominous song. I was soaring through the heavens, my heart pounding in both terror and an unmistakable awe. Then I remembered.
“Manuel!” I gasped, reaching out beside me, my arms stretching and moving about the periphery. Nothing.
“Rosa?” I shouted. “Manuel! Rosa!”
No answer. Only the wind’s foreboding howl.
3
Angels’ Mist
Suddenly I heard singing. A chorus of voices rose behind me, like a throng of angels coming to my rescue. I lifted my head and strained to hear what hymn they sang or what message they might be bringing. Instead what I heard in the distance sounded more like cantina music—rough, loud, and off-key, but it comforted me, nonetheless, for it did not fade as the train jerked clumsily through the fog. Clearly it was not coming from a passing village, but somewhere on this train. I was not entirely alone.
I tried shouting out again, calling for Rosa and Manuel, but the only sound to return was this drunken chorus, very faint in the distance. Hopefully, Rosa was a few cars back, as Manuel had said. And Manuel himself? Remembering his story of the dangers of the train, I cringed at the thought of what horror might have befallen him. It was then that I remembered the red-rimmed eyes and the crack of the gun, and I sat up suddenly and shuddered. My God, had I killed that man? Had I taken a life? I had completely forgotten about that moment when I pulled the trigger. Surely, I would be punished. Perhaps, I was being punished right now, with Rosa and Manuel gone.
But as the sky began to lighten, the singing stopped, and soon after, the train began to slow. The dark shades of gray had slowly turned white until a piercing beam of light broke through the mist. The warmth caressed my cheeks as I lifted my face to greet the sun. In an instant the clouds were gone, and around me I could see stretches of pasture dotted with a few cows. I also discovered that I was smack in the middle of a rust-colored boxcar with little more than an arm’s length of roof on either side and nothing protecting me from sliding right off. Before I had time to panic, however, I heard shouts. Turning, I gasped. Manuel was running along the top of the car behind me, and in one terrifying leap, he landed with a thud on the edge of my car, then crawled up beside me.
“Alma, I’m so sorry I left you alone.” He struggled to catch his breath. “I went back to find the others, and then the fog came and I couldn’t return. Lo siento mucho.” He held onto my arm with both of his hands, as I stared back in wonder. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I managed. “I just can’t believe my eyes. I thought you were . . . that you had . . . .” I looked to edge of the roof.
He smiled and shook his head. “Not me. I can move like a cat on these cars. ¡No hay problema!”
“And Rosa?” I trembled and held my breath.
“She’s farther back than I thought and too low for you to see from here. But she’s okay, just shaken up and worried about you, especially because you were alone in the fog.” He turned back and, placing his fingers in his mouth, let out a long whistle. He did this again and again, until we heard a very faint one in return.
“Now Rosa knows you are okay.” He sat back on his heels and ran his hands through his hair.
“Thank God,” I sighed, but I couldn’t stop shaking. I fought back tears. “And the singing. I heard singing, I think,” I said, looking questioningly at Manuel.
He nodded and laughed. “Yes, you weren’t hearing things. To keep awake, men sometimes sing. No one sleeps at night on these trains. Too dangerous.”
I shuddered to think I had fallen asleep. “So, they won’t fall off?” I asked.
“That, and . . .” He paused. “Well, a seemingly friendly companion could help himself to your belongings, and sometimes there are dangerous people . . . gangs that claim a particular train. They demand money for protection and permission to ride, or they don’t ask at all—just take.” He looked far off into the distance. His sweatshirt was torn at the shoulder and his cheek was smudged in black. “I saw a man tossed off one time. May he rest in peace,” he said softly, bowing his head. Then with a deep sigh, he continued, “I tried to get back to you, but the fog was so thick. I figured it would keep you safe from harm, as long as you didn’t panic. No one moves about these trains in the fog, and I headed back as soon as it started to lift.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m all right. Just so relieved and thankful that you found Rosa.”
My Rosa, I kept thinking, she’s okay. She’s here with me, and we’re on our way to Oaxaca! I buried my face in my hands.
Then I heard him say, “Rosa said if anyone could ride on top of a
