“What are we waiting for?” I mouthed to Manuel, who shrugged and shook his head.
A child whined, and his mother shushed him. Suddenly a tap came on our door, and it slowly opened. A man motioned us to follow while silencing us with his other finger to his lips.
Within a matter of minutes, we all exited the van, slipped through a hole in a chain-link, barbed wire fence, and began walking hurriedly up hills and through ravines. I thought I heard a car start and a motor fade away. Señor José? Someone else was leading us ahead, so perhaps Señor José was not making the journey with us. He was, after all, the boss, not the mule. Perhaps he would be waiting for us on the other side?
After about thirty minutes, someone asked, “¿Dónde estamos? Where are we? When will we get to the fence?”
A man behind me laughed. “What fence? We crossed already. The gringos’ steel wall is not complete yet. José knows where the holes are.”
“But where is la migra? Aren’t they watching the holes?”
“They can’t watch every hole every minute. But don’t relax yet. We have a long way to go.”
“Shut up you, pendejos!” a voice hissed. “You are inviting la migra to hike with us!”
Manuel walked in front, offering his hand to both Rosa and me when needed. While our eyes adjusted to the darkness somewhat, it was still difficult to make out the path before us. I stumbled over rocks, falling twice. We walked single file most of the way, though occasionally Rosa and I leaned on each other or Manuel held my hand.
I desperately wanted to talk to Rosa. What was she thinking? Everything had happened so quickly, we hadn’t had a chance to really open our hearts. Plus Manuel was always there, and I wondered how she felt about that. Things were a little different between us ever since Manuel and I had become close. I reached for Rosa’s hand, and she grabbed mine tightly. I thought of the car ride to Mexico City and how Manuel and I had managed to speak through touch. I squeezed hers back and hoped she could feel how much I loved her.
We seemed to walk forever. One hour. Two. Three. Maybe more. I couldn’t say. I wondered how far ahead the road was with the vehicle that would take us to Phoenix. Would we be safe then, or would the police check cars along the way as well? As we walked through the night, I felt conspicuous. Where was the Border Patrol? Were they watching us somewhere, waiting for us around the bend? Señor José had spoken of cameras. I imagined I was being watched on a screen somewhere as I was heading toward a trap. As we continued to walk, a few lagged behind. I could hear a child’s soft cry. Rosa and I glanced back. If we waited or went back to help, we would lose the others. Looking around, I thought how easy it would be to get lost. I looked up at the stars, trying to find a constellation or some touchstone to use as a guide.
Suddenly ahead, there were whispers followed by a rustle of bushes. Those in front turned to us and said, “We are near the road. Find a bush and hide. Pass it on.”
Manuel turned to those behind us and relayed the information. The three of us scurried to an area of large brush and squatted down.
“What do we do now? What are we waiting for?” someone said from the bushes beside us. “Shhhhh!” came a hiss from beyond.
We waited. Sitting still let the chill of the night creep in. Without movement, our bodies cooled, and we began to shiver. We huddled together for warmth. Manuel’s lips brushed against my hair, and as tired as I was, I felt revived. I hugged Rosa, whose head was bowed. She looked up and forced a smile.
“We’re almost there,” I whispered, then closed my eyes and waited.
Thirty minutes, maybe an hour, passed until the faint sound of a motor grew louder. Car lights appeared, the car drove slowly, then stopped. A door slid open and a voice pierced the night, “Hurry, hurry!” Groans and grunts filled the air as we all strained to get ourselves up and moving and into the waiting van. Like the other, there were no seats, but we knew the routine and quickly filed in. I checked the driver. It was not Señor José.
“Any others out there?” the driver spoke to the darkness.
A man’s voice answered. “Yes. Give me ten minutes.” It was our guide.
“I’ll give you five.”
The guide stepped back and headed into the darkness. Our door closed and the van slowly pulled off the road. Lights and motor off. We sat in the dark in silence. No one spoke.
Suddenly a tap and the driver jumped, “¡Mierda! Mother of God!” The guide was at the door with a man, the woman and two children. Someone else had stayed behind to help her. Bless his soul, I thought.
Once everyone was in, the guide shut the door and stepped back into the darkness. Like a coyote, he scurried into the brush, heading the way we came.
We all settled in with a collective sigh. I didn’t care how long this drive was or how crowded we were. We were on way to a city with the name of a bird that stood for rebirth. I smiled at the thought of the Alma who had learned that in school long ago. I leaned against Manuel, and he kissed my temple.
Suddenly a shout from the front vibrated through me like an electric current. “¡La migra!” Ahead there were two sets of lights blocking the road. The
