She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and slowly placed her toes into each slat and began to scale the wall. I stood below, my arms stretched up, ready to catch her if she lost her footing. Manuel reached out his hand and helped her straddle the top as well.
I took a deep breath and began my ascent. Not only was this not a moving train, but the daylight made it an easier climb. Once I reached the top, Manuel slid over the side, took a few steps down, and then jumped. I glanced around. No Border Patrol in sight. I couldn’t see the city in the distance, but Manuel reassured us it was there. What I could see were pockets of trees and brush for protection, and that gave me hope.
“You go next,” Rosa said, biting her lower lip. I hesitated. “Hurry!” she said, glancing around.
I tossed my pack down, eased myself over, and slat by slat descended until I jumped and Manuel broke my fall.
Gazing up at Rosa, I saw her pause, glance behind and then ahead. I held my breath. Was she planning on turning back? Was that in her mind all along?
“Rosa, please, please! ¡Mi hermana, por favor!” I cried.
“Rosa,” Manuel said, as he climbed a few slats up, “I’ll help you. Hurry!”
To my relief, she tossed her bag and eased down to Manuel, who helped her step by step. When her feet were planted firmly on the ground, I looked into her eyes and knew she could have gone either way. I hugged her tightly.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, in a trembling voice. “This time we make it.”
We had been told that alarms under the ground might alert the Border Patrol to our presence, so we ran as fast as we could. Every now and then, we stopped behind bushes, checking for snakes and then scanning the horizon and skies for movement. We moved on, stopping frequently where there was cover. We were making good progress when suddenly we heard the distant sound of an engine, so we headed quickly to our right up a hill then down a ravine.
“Over there,” Manuel panted, sprinting toward a patch of oak trees surrounded by creosote bushes.
Together we huddled beneath the thickest of branches, holding our breath. A knocking sound became louder and louder, pounding its way through the air. It was the Border Patrol helicopter, circling and zigzagging, but never quite finding its way directly above us. Its persistence amazed me. Like a horse fly, swatted away by the fierce whip of a tail only to return again and again, this mighty machine would not give up its search. Were we so important?
We waited until long after the sound faded in the distance to stretch and breathe deeply again, but just as we were discussing our next move, the beat became audible, then louder, sending us back to the thicket.
It buzzed us off and on most of the afternoon. But even after it finally disappeared for more than an hour, we decided to stay put until well after dark.
The three of us had stretched out side by side watching the sky. The stars blinked back at us, bright with hope. I squeezed Rosa’s hand.
“It’s perfect,” Manuel was saying, “just a quarter moon, so it is not too light out there, yet the stars are all the more brilliant, tan brillante, better to lead our way.”
We had changed into warmer clothes, doubled our pants again in case of snakes or spikes or scorpions, and drank a bottle of water for hydration. We each agreed that we had become quite proficient. Cautiously we edged out of our sanctuary and moved forward in the darkness.
Manuel pointed out a brightness in the distance. “Las luces,” he whispered.
“The lights of the city?” I asked, my heart pounding. Manuel nodded.
We walked for a couple of hours at a quick but easy pace. I was just beginning to feel excited and hopeful, when we heard a crackling of branches to our right. Manuel whispered, “Maybe a lizard or bobcat?” We paused, then continued walking toward the faint light, Manuel in the lead, Rosa and I close behind.
Another rustle of branches, only this time it was followed by the undeniable sound of footsteps that made us freeze. Border Patrol? We turned. Relieved, I could see a white shirt, not the dark uniform of la migra.
“Buenas noches, good evening,” a voice said. Was there a hint of mocking in his tone?
A man stepped forward, then another and another, until we were surrounded—four that I could see, plus movement behind us. Though they appeared to be Mexican, their menacing grins were not friendly. In the seconds of tense silence that followed, I knew we were in great danger. I thought of those heartless gangs Manuel spoke of on the train. My hands turned to ice.
Manuel quickly moved in closer to us, but in that instant, two men pulled out knives.
“What have we here? Two chickens and one rooster? Making your way to el norte?”
I wanted to run, but the knives were pointed at Manuel.
“Por favor, leave them alone,” Manuel said. “Let them go. I’ll give you whatever I have.”
“Whatever you have?” he mocked. The men laughed deep in their throats, and I knew no words would change what was about to happen—though Manuel tried. He cried out that we were his sisters and didn’t they have sisters? He begged them to please leave us alone, to let us go, and we would give them all of our money. But it was clear they intended to take whatever they wanted.
Rosa and I clung to each other, trembling. The men behind came in closer. One ran his hands along Rosa’s back and hips and began to undo her braid. I heard her make a sound like a
