WARNING!

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 “When Mexico sends its people, they're not sending their best ... They're sending people that have lots of problems ... They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists. And some, I assume, are good people."

- U.S. President Donald Trump in 2015 in his candidacy announcement.'

“Fucking bitch.”

- I.C.E. Agent, Jonathan Ross, after shooting Renée Good to death.

“I know how it feels to expect to get a fair shake, but they won't let you forget that you're the underdog and you've got to be twice as good.”

- Sly and the Family Stone

“Mi casa es su casa.” 

- Spanish Mexican expression of hospitality to their neighbors.

Somewhere in Val Verde County, Texas, not far from the Mexican border, the sun reached its peak when a stranger approached a lonely, neglected building surrounded by the sea of rocky plains and yucca shrubs that made up the Chihuahuan Desert. The dusty, beaten-down establishment was surrounded mostly by choppers, along with a few cars and one rusty truck about as beaten down as the building itself; an old, sketchy saloon.

The heat was hellacious; muggy as the bayou at this time of year. The stranger stepped into the dark, possibly dustier interior, to be greeted with a less-than-friendly gaze from everyone – several rough patrons, one older waitress, and a big man bartending; one drunk loner sitting in the corner, asleep in his beer.

The twang of Hank Williams Sr. singing about “that lonesome whippoorwill” joined the clinking beer bottles and humming fans, in constant fight with the Texan heat. The air was filled with cigarette smoke, mixing the smell of tobacco and cheap domestic beer that permeated the entire room’s atmosphere.

Strolling toward the bar, ignoring his audience of perplexed gawkers, the stranger hung his blazer on the back rest of a bar stool that he chose. He wasn’t a very big man. He stood about five feet and eight inches tall, wasn’t too lean, nor too muscular by the looks of him. He had darker skin – darker than most of the folks in the bar – and slicked back, black hair, mostly hidden under his black cowboy hat. He wore all black from his vest to his shoes, besides a golden skull pendant hanging on the gold chain around his neck.

The bartender, a large man with a long scruffy beard that made up for what he lacked atop his head, looked to the stranger, perplexed and annoyed.  

The stranger placed his hat on the bar and spoke, “I know what you’re thinkin’... A shot of tequila!” The stranger was trying to joke with the man, offering a genuine laugh. But the bartender did not laugh back, nor say anything at all, appearing in no mood to share conversation with this stranger. His eyes stared blankly at the stranger, giving an inhuman vibe.

The stranger calmed his laughter, although he never let his smile falter. He wasn’t going to let the bartender's unpleasantness get to him.

“Well, anyway... I’m a bourbon man, believe it or not. So, please, three fingers of your best bourbon neat.”

He knew he couldn’t catch these flies with honey. But he could at least say that he offered it.

The bartender snarled, "This is a private club. We only serve members here.” Then he raised his voice, “So, even though I really hate to disappoint you, little man;” now pointing to the door and leaning over the bar, the bartender glared closely in the stranger’s eyes, “You need to get on; anywhere else."

Everyone in the bar watched quietly with anticipation, as time stood still for a moment.

The stranger, seemingly caught off guard momentarily by this intense reaction, regained his smiling composure, yet expressed surprise, "A private club? But I've been here before, sir. Just last year on business."

The bartender shook his head, "No, you ain't been here before...” the scruffy man’s growl elevated once more, “...s’matter-a’-fact, I think you’re on the wrong side of the spik line, small fry. Or should I call you jumpin’ bean?"

The bartender’s demeanor switched from annoyed to mischievously playful, with his less-than-charming sneer, as he began hee-hawing a rambunctious, obnoxious laugh at his own joke. Everyone in the bar began to cackle along, including the old lady waitress. The stranger looked around, acknowledging them with an awkward smile, before laughing as well.

"That's funny!” The stranger snickered and nodded, “Okay! I get it; guess you may not get a lot of Mexican types in here. But I can guarantee you that I'm one hundred percent American, my friend, if that happens to be the problem. In fact, my mother was a white woman mixed with Scotch and English on her daddy’s side and Navajo Indian on her mama’s..."  

The bartender cut the stranger off, "Well, we don't let Goddamn Navajos or any Indians in here neither.”

Now, for the first time, the stranger’s smile faded.

The bartender continued raising his voice, “Maybe it’s been a lil longer than you remember since yer last visit ‘cause I don’t remember letting any of you people in here. And I’ve been running this bar since ‘79."

The stranger's smiled returned, and he suddenly couldn’t stop his tongue from slipping, “Well, you’ve done a great job giving it that inbred, dumbass, redneck aesthetic there Ole’ Scotty O’Toole.”  

Someone from behind grabbed the stranger by his shoulder. He heard a click and felt the steel of a pistol barrel poke him in his back.

Then the shots went off.

Blood, bone fragments, and meat from the man's head splattered all over the back of the stranger’s neck and slicked back hair; blood dripped down the back of his neck into his shirt. The bartender was fumbling his gun; his eyes wide; face filled with terror at the sight of what had just happened. Before the bartender could gain control, the stranger, now with his face covered in the gory blood and flesh of the bartender’s friend, was pulling a gun from his own holster, hidden under his vest. 

The stranger shouted, “Rudolpho Domingo sends you to hell!” and he fired two shots into the bartender. One hit the center of his chest and the other right through his left eye. The force sent the large man flying back into the shelves of liquor, taking them to the floor with him in a symphony of smashing bottles and rushing booze, as his chest and face poured a river of red.

The stranger spun around and helped finish off the remaining individuals. No one was to be spared. Not on this job. To the stranger’s confusion, there wasn’t much more to take care of. Just before it had sounded like a grand finale of a Fourth of July fireworks show right there in the bar. But now it was dead silence.

"Mother fucker!" The stranger hollered to someone unknown, "Nice shot, asshole. I'm taking some of your pay for the cost of this suit, you reckless bastard!" He picked up his hat and saw blood and guts all over it too, “Oh yeah, and this fuckin’ hat!”  

The stranger walked over and around the dead bodies on the floor while making his way behind the bar. The blood was puddled in so many places that it made getting through the room a difficult task. When behind the bar, standing over the bartender that he had just executed, he grabbed a bottle of good bourbon that wasn't smashed by the big man's fall, and poured himself exactly what he had originally and politely asked for; no more.  

"He could have at least let me have my drink, you know? What a world, huh? I say all men, including the mayates deserve a drink!"

Ironically, our stranger does not like white American racists but seems to have a certain disdain for African Americans, just as much. This stranger is an “independent contractor” working for a powerful man from San Antonio, named Rudolpho Domingo, who owned lots of real estate on the south side of the city. The stranger took the entire three fingers down the hatch and clenched his fist as he slammed the cup down on the table. He made a loud "Woo!" And shifted his chin from side to side, making his neck crackle.  

"Well, let's see what we have here."

The stranger and his unknown associate did some digging around. This wasn’t just some hit job. It was a retrieval of stolen goods. Sure enough, some, but not all, could be recovered, found in a large black duffle bag. The biker gang was a bunch of small-time, petty criminals, who didn’t know who they were dealing with.

"Well, what a fucking day.” The stranger sighed and directed his attention to the dead bodies everywhere, “Well, my friends, I appreciate the southern hospitality. We’ll send flowers to your cousins and sisters." Then he looked to his associate, “We’re all set up here. I’ll pull the car around. Do your thing, amigo.”  

The stranger slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way around all the dead bodies. The blood was about an inch deep in some places now. He opened the door and walked back into the hot Texas sun toward the car, a black two-door 1986 Pontiac Grand Prix. He dropped the bag in the trunk and hopped in the driver’s seat to pull around closer to the door, while waiting for his partner to finish the job – disposing of the garbage, so to speak.

He brought in a jug of gasoline from the back and proceeded to dump it all over the bar room, filled with dead gang members. The stranger came back into the bar to check up on things.

"I've got the car pulled up close. Let's get out of here while we still can."

Suddenly, they heard someone cough and cry out, "Please! Please, don't leave me like this!"

They hadn’t been thorough. One man, the loner, was lying half-dead on the floor in the corner, covered in blood and gasoline. One of the poor local innocents happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Yet the stranger didn’t feel bad for him. The loner should have known better than to be around these people. He just stopped in for a beer. Not a model citizen of society, but not a terrible person, relatively speaking. He had come to when the gasoline was dumped on him, and he had been trying to get the words out.

"Please, I have a daughter! Please don't kill me this way. I won't say nothin’, I swear!"

The loner did have an estranged daughter. She was older now and moved away to San Antonio. He was never the best father after everything went downhill when his wife, his daughter's mother, died from cancer back in ‘87. He was hoping to get his life together by the winter and visit her for Christmas. He’d just started working at a local processing plant nearby and limited

his drinking to one beer a day after his shift, or at least that was the goal. The bar was seedy and filled with biker gang members, but there weren’t many options in this run-down area. If he’d just straightened up like the family always wanted, maybe he wouldn’t be lumped in with this crowd, and maybe he wouldn’t suffer the fate upon him.

But in one swift moment, tomorrow's goals were impossible, and his destiny was final.

The stranger looked to his associate and then back to the loner on the floor. Then he chuckled, shaking his head and made his way to the dying man, where he crouched over him and looked him in the eyes.

The loner repeated his promise, "Didn't ya hear me? I swear I won't say nothin', mister..."

"Maybe you would... maybe you wouldn't...” the stranger finally responded to the man’s promise, “...but either way, I don't care. The sun will still rise tomorrow without you or me. And once again... maybe you would. And maybe whatever you say will make my final day. You understand?"

The man sobbed and pleaded some more, this time screaming at the men, "Please, for the love of God, don't do this! I swear to God I wasn't apart of whatever was going on here. I swear I wasn't! This just isn't fair! Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do I have to die?"

The stranger stared at the loner and sighed. It was a genuine stare of sympathy. "I'm sorry. You’re bad for business. You're a serious liability now and..." the stranger's eyes glossed over cold, "My boss don’t really like those.”  

The loner continued to sob, but was interrupted, as he coughed up blood. The jukebox was still playing. Hank Williams was complaining that his bucket had a hole in it in the background.

The stranger continued, “It’s basic accounting, my friend. To my boss, you’re either me...” he pulled a knife from a black sheath, and pointed the end at himself, “I’m an asset, but... Some assets cost money;” he proclaimed with a sly grin, now pointing the knife at the dying loner on the ground, “but liabilities like you are nothing but money burning. And that’s what my boss pays assets like me to do... 

Burn motherfuckers like you.”

The stranger’s stare was intense and honest when he said that last part. He was like a demon on Earth, and the loner began to hyperventilate and sob some more as the stranger inched close to him. 

“Only sick people kill for joy, so this ain’t it, friend." the stranger explained, "I can’t spare you, or I’d be killing myself.” He moved in closer, “But I can make the death quick and painless.”

And then the stranger stabbed the loner to puncture his liver, to which the loner began to cry out, “No...”

The knife dug deep.

The stranger pulled it back out as the blood poured on the ground under the loner, who let out one final gasp as he stared up at the ceiling. The stranger could see life drifting from the loner’s eyes. This wasn’t the first time, and it was always painful for the stranger to watch. He did not like this part of the job. The bartender didn’t make him feel bad. Even the old waitress didn’t, but that was just because he didn’t have to do it this way. He always questioned how it got this way; how did he become the executioner? And the man’s words echoed through his mind: 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why do I have to die?”

That haunted the stranger; the very idea of how right the loner was in his remarks about death. 

Why must a person take everything away from another, when the act of killing has no real benefit to the killer? The only possible benefit to killing could be sick pleasure or the practicality of cold-blooded accounting - the removal of a serious liability to one's family or society, perhaps even humanity, itself.

The stranger wished he could just part ways, but he knew that wasn’t how this job worked. This loner would talk to the cops or run his mouth the next time he got drunk. He would be more trouble than he was worth dealing with if he were left alive. After a moment, he realized these were the thoughts racing through his mind as he looked over the dying loner. The stranger got his mind back in gear, wiped the blood from the blade off on the loner's shirt, and turned around to walk outside as he sheathed his knife and looked at his associate.

"Now, you can go ahead and do your thing, mi amigo."

The stranger walked toward the door as his associate followed. The dying loner bled out and was drifting away into the unknown as the two men walked off. The stranger continued to the car, as his associate took a pack of matches from his pocket. He lit one up, threw it on the gasoline and blood-soaked floor, and made his way out the door for the final time before the door would be no more but a pile of burned up sticks and debris.

The man felt the heat of the flames begin to come his way before he finally fell into a deep sleep. He saw his daughter grow up all over again in his memories. He saw his wife comforting him, as if she were there with him.

She forgave him for everything. He knew she did. The pain wouldn’t be much longer, and he hoped to join her when he crossed over. Together they would wait for their daughter and maybe there, he could try again. 

Maybe then, there wouldn’t be pain anymore for their family... no hell... no more than here on Earth, surrounded by the flames...

...and the smell of gasoline.

It was a hot Texan day in the middle of May 1995.

The engine roared, tires screeched, and Sofia’s breath was heavy. An inferno of the summer Texan air poured through the cab, as Sofia found herself trapped between the Chihuahuan Desert and two deranged men, chasing after her, rushing over 80 miles an hour down Highway 385. They were just northeast of Marathon, Texas; Sofia was driving a large, black Dodge Ram 1985 pickup truck, and praying that somewhere along this long stretch of road, there would be a deputy patrolling the area to see her. 

Sofia shouted out loud her frantic thoughts, "Any other time you would be speeding this fast, the police would stop you for a fine. But the police are never there when you need them."

The two men were driving a 1990 Ford F-150 navy-blue pickup, and they were on her tail, coming up on her quick. She was rammed in the back bumper, about making her lose control to the right into a patch of shrubs and boulders, but she managed to swerve back to the left to keep the truck on the road. She straightened the truck back up and kept the gas pedal to the floor. She only had nineteen years. Thank God her husband Armando knew how to drive and taught her only last year. She’d gotten quite accustomed to the Dodge, and, right now, the machine was her horse in the desert, getting her back home. They fell a short distance behind her, trying to keep control of their own vehicle.

Sofia was crying and screaming as they would smash into the back of her truck several more times. They had been following her from a gas station about twenty miles to the southwest down the highway. There was nothing for miles past that gas station. No one was around to help her out of this situation. What did these men want with her? Why were they chasing her like this? This was the most frightening moment of Sofia’s entire life. These unknown men were seriously trying to harm Sofia for no good reason. And they were going to kill her if they caught her.

Sofia lived in a large, old grand homestead off the highway about 25 miles northeast of Marathon. There weren’t any neighbors for several miles. She could see it coming up on her left. She didn't want to lead them to her home, but what else could she do and where else could she go? They had almost knocked her off the road several times, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this wild chase up. She was in real trouble and had no other choice. The only hope that she had was to get to her Mossburg 500 12-gauge pump shot gun – “The Persuader – in her upstairs bedroom. She knew she wouldn't have time to reach for the telephone.

They were right on her tail. The worst part of all, coming from this unsettling situation, was that Sofia was nine months pregnant and about to pop. She knew she shouldn't have been leaving the house by herself in the excruciating weather, with no one around to help

her if anything had happened. She had everything she needed at home to take care of herself, and she had the phone, if she needed emergency services. But she was just so bored of being alone at her old, rickety house. And her pregnancy cravings were driving her crazy.

One craving, that seemed odd to Sofia but made her want to leave her home on this very day, was the smell of gasoline.

"I could have just stayed home. I should have just stayed home. It wasn't safe going out anyway. I could have popped while on the road. Yet, I never imagined that something like this would happen. I never would have imagined that I would be chased by two wild and crazy men.” Sofia sobbed as she thought about everything in hindsight.

If only her husband would be home from work sooner. She didn’t have much more time to think; she had to act – fight for her baby’s life, as well as her own. She took a sharp left turn into her driveway. The sound of the screeching tires roared before she hit the dirt, and she kept the vehicle under control as it switched terrain, even though she almost lost the back end. The truck jerked her around; she feared for the safety of her child inside of her with every aggressive movement. She had to do her best not to put the child through serious trauma, which seemed impossible at this moment. She sped down the road as fast as she ever had. It was a long dirt driveway, and the view of the house was right in front of her. But she wasn’t exactly home free. Not with these strange men following her.

Luckily for her, she took them by surprise, as they passed the turn a few feet before hitting reverse and making their way down the driveway themselves. By the time she got out of the truck to start hobbling for her front door, the two men were parking their truck and rushing out for her. The larger of the two wore a dirty, white cowboy hat atop his red face that was partially hidden by his short, scruffy, dirty blonde beard. He darted straight for Sofia, while the other, skinnier man, who was wearing a similar hat, seemed to be checking around to make sure that there wasn’t anyone else there. That man held a .38 special revolver and seemed more than ready to use it but was surveying the field first.

Sofia made her way up the stairs and reached the porch when the bigger man grabbed her right ankle, but she had a pocketknife on her. She had kept it on her anytime she went out and now she was happy that she did. She had always hoped that it would never come to this; without a second thought she took the knife and drove it into the man's left arm, just below his wrist, to which the man hollered out loud in agonizing pain. The other man came from around the car and shot at Sofia, but luckily missed her, shooting a wood support next to her, splintering the wood in her face. She didn't hesitate to get inside as the other man cried and screamed in pain with the knife stuck in his now bloody arm.

The door was left unlocked because she didn’t think anyone would be around to bother the home while she was gone. No one was ever around in the area they lived in, which worried her in this

time of desperation for assistance. She felt it was lucky to have the door unlocked to get in quickly, but when she slammed the door shut behind her, another shot went through it right by her head. She locked it and made her way to the back of the house as best as she could, although it was difficult to run at this stage of her pregnancy. As she went across the house for the back door, she could see with her peripheral vision through the windows that the other man with the gun was racing her to the back. She was trying not to hurt the baby, but she had to beat him to the door. She was wheezing wildly with every step; cradling her baby bump as she made her way to the back door. She locked it shut too just in time, but the man began to kick in the door with all his might. She knew that he would kick it in, and she had to be fast again. Lucky for her, it was a thick, strong door, so she had some time.

For Sofia, this was becoming a marathon, and she could barely handle it anymore. She felt like she was going to vomit and pass out, but she kept telling herself that she had to push on to save her life and the baby’s. She made her way across the house again as the man kicked the door open.

She bolted the best she could up the stairs and was at the top when he came around the corner to see her. He fired a shot, this time a better one than the last, because it caught her in the back of her left thigh, just below her bottom. The bullet dug right in the thick part of her leg and stayed lodged inside when it hit. She fell to her left knee, but kept up on her right foot, so she managed to make her way into her bedroom, half crawling, across the way from the top of the stairs. She stood up with all the might she had in her legs and slammed the door shut. The door did not have a lock though, so she had to think fast. With all the fight for life that she had in her, she took the chest of drawers that, luckily, sat next to the door and tipped it over on its side in front of the door. After that she was done. She had exerted all her energy and had to sit on the floor. The man tried to enter the room, but it was no use with the blockade in front.

"Fucking bitch!” he shouted in his thick southern accent, “This door won't stop me! I'll be in there in no time to get you!"

Sofia reached for her pump shot gun. It was hidden under the bed in a compartment in the frame. There was plenty of ammunition, and Sofia was fast at reloading each shot. Another thing Armando had made sure to teach her, while she would be staying home alone. Armando was the type of man who believed it’s better to have a gun and not need it, rather than not have a gun when you need it. Sophia sure could use whatever help available at this moment.

She pumped the barrel and shouted, "Stop! Hijo de puta! I've got a pump shot gun in here! And the first one of you redneck assholes comes in this room, I'm taking your fucking heads off and sending you straight to hell!"

Adrenaline coursed through her, and she pulled herself up to her feet, even though she was getting weaker by the minute. She aimed the gun at the door and braced herself to take a shot.

One of the men, she couldn’t tell which at this moment, shouted his response, "Bullshit! You ain't got nothin..."

Before he could finish, Sofia aimed the gun at her ceiling above the door and blew a hole in it. Pieces of wood and debris came falling in front of the door and clunked at the foot of the door. The man jumped when the gun had gone off and he knew that she was serious.

"Well! I'll be! You sure got some fire in you, don't you?"

He laughed and shook his head, taking off his cowboy hat, scratching at his head as he stood and thought for a moment. But then he smiled, placed his hat back on his head and posted up on the left side of the door and, shifting his entire tone; he started talking soothingly through to her, "Well... I like that... I like that a whole lot, baby... Me-’n-you... We're gonna get along real swell sooner or later, darlin'. I like it when they fight and you're the best fighter I've had yet."

He didn't know it, but the recoil of the gun had knocked Sofia back into the floor and made her even more faint. She was coming in and out but fighting to keep her wits about her. She made sure not to let him on to the fact that she was getting so weak. She sat on the floor across from the door, aiming the gun toward it.

"Why are you doing this?” she cried, “What do you want with me?"

At this point, the other man, who was stabbed in the arm, was coming up the stairs. He had wrapped a towel from Sofia's kitchen around his arm and taped it tight with some duct tape that he found in Sofia’s utility closet. He spoke up to the other man, with the same southern drawl.

"It's true what they say, y’know? Those beaners sure are spicy." He began to say vulgar things to Sofia through the door.

Sofia began to sob as the man continued. He continued to say the most awful vile things to her, in a tone as if he were trying to seduce her. Mocking her for her ethnicity and being a woman of color, while threatening to assault her.

"Stop it!" Sofia shouted.

"Get out of my house! Leave me alone! My husband will be back, and you won't get away with this!"

But the man just kept going on and on. He was sick and twisted. And each word drove daggers of fear into Sofia, that made it more and more difficult to keep her composure. She began to sob

more and didn't know what to do. She wanted to shoot at them, but she was afraid to blow a hole through the door. She was afraid to even see their faces.

"I'm gonna kill you both when this is all over!” She cried, “You just wait and see!"

She was in so much pain and was just trying to stay conscious. The only thing keeping her awake was her adrenaline, but she knew that she couldn't put her baby through too much more stress. What could she do though? She was trapped. Every word that came out of these men's sick mouths was driving her blood pressure up, while descending her into madness. She was filled with immense anger but chilled to the bone at the same time. She lifted herself up to lean against her bed and cried out to them, beginning to plead.

"Please! Don't kill me! I don't know why you want to do this. I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a little girl. Please don't kill us! It isn't fair for my child... She hasn't even got to live her life yet!"

She began to giggle though her tears a little before explaining herself. Her accent was thick, and English clearly wasn’t her first language.

But she spoke it well.

"My name is Sofia. I haven't lived here long. I'm from the Tehuacán valley in Mexico. I came here with my husband, and I learned English so we could raise our daughter here in peace. I was just driving to the store..." she giggled some more as she cried at the same time, "I didn't even need the gas, but I was just craving the smell of gasoline... I wasn't even supposed to leave today. Please... This isn't fair! Please don't kill me and my unborn baby... Why can’t you just go away and live your own life? Why does it matter to you if I breathe somewhere on my own?"

There was a brief silence as Sofia waited in anticipation. Sweat was pouring down her face and body. Her dress was covered in sweat and blood. She had the blood of the man that she stabbed on her right hand and her wound was just starting to dry a bit, but every time she moved, it gushed a little. It was extremely painful, but she was so frightened, that the pain was secondary. She almost couldn’t even think about the pain with the fear clouding her mind. She was losing her breath while trying to stay calm. The last thing that she wanted in this moment was for the men to believe they could get the better of her. She had to be strong. She had to act strong. After what felt like an eternity of silence, the man standing to the left of the door chuckled at everything that she had said to them. The other man joined his laughter, and the sound of their laughing grew, sending a chill down Sofia's spine. The embodiment of evil lay just beyond the door. She had met true demons on Earth.

"When's death ever fair, lady?" the man beside the door asked. "Everyone dies. Everyone has to die. ‘N everyone’s gotta die in every way. This is the way that you and your lil spik baby are gonna die. Now... Open the door ‘n we can make it quick ‘n easy. Keep it closed ‘n we'll make it slow ‘n painful."

The other man muttered to him, "’Ey, Cody."

"Yeah, Zeke?" Cody asked in response.

"Y’know... I was thinkin'." Zeke said.

"Oh really? Guess old dogs can learn new tricks." Cody pestered.

"Hardy-har-har, fuck-face."

Zeke began to speak louder so Sofia could hear him, 

"So she likes the smell o’ gasoline, huh?"

Cody looked confused at first, almost irritated by his brother’s loudmouth (Zeke was the younger, although bigger brother, yet usually lacking in the brains department compared to his older sibling); but then the lightbulb went off in Cody’s head, and a devilish grin grew upon his face. Sofia just stared at the door, petrified in her place.

"I say we give’er what she wants.”, Zeke chuckled menacingly, “Let's drown the place in gasoline!"

Zeke began to howl in laughter at his brilliant idea. Cody joined along in the rowdy celebration before turning to the door again to address their poor victim.

"Alright, you heard him, lady! So, what's it gonna to be? You gonna come out like a good lil beaner for us. Or we need to go ahead ‘n cook up some frijoles in here?"

Sofia's eyes were wide with terror. She didn't know what to do now. What could she do? She was out of options, and she was out of time. But she refused to cave in for them. She wasn’t going to give up until the end. They were going to kill her either way it seemed. Yet, the thought of burning alive... Sofia just didn’t know what she was going to do to get out of this. All she could do was pray that her husband would make it home in time to save her somehow. But she had a strong premonition... almost as if she could feel his distance. He was far away, working, and she knew it.

And another problem was dawning on her. 

This baby was coming. And she was coming today.

Armando Trujillo was born on November 25th, 1970.

Sofia Moreno was born on August 15th, 1975.

They grew up in the same neighborhood in the Santa María Coapan community. His mother, Lucresia, was good friends with her mother, Irma. So, Sofia knew Armando all her life and always admired the older boy.

Armando, on the other hand, grew up avoiding Sofia as she was a peculiar child in his eyes; always interested in him for no reason and following him around when he was trying to play with his friends. The other boys would tease Armando. They’d say things like, “Hey, look it’s your little girlfriend!” or sing little songs mocking them both.

Armando was a bit of a hothead growing up and sometimes got into fights with the boys that mocked him. To Armando, Sofia was an annoying little girl, but she was a family friend, and he genuinely cared for her. So, he also grew protective of her. None of the boys would dare to upset the little girl, because they knew they’d have to go through Armando. At an early age, he earned a reputation, being one of the rougher kids in the streets of his neighborhood.

But sometimes it was Armando, himself, who would hurt Sofia’s feelings. He’d usually tell her to go back home or to go play with his sisters. One time, when she really got on his nerves, he accidentally made her cry, when he told her to stop bringing him her “stupid little gifts”. He felt terrible about it and never was as mean to her again after that. Sofia used to bring him presents, usually from little crafts she made for him. This always only made him feel bashful and act awkward, especially when it happened in front of the other boys.

The first gift she ever gave was when she was five; it was a little pebble that she painted red for him.

She simply told him that it was a heart. 

They were close because of their families, but he didn’t look at her like a sister. He had enough of them already. Armando was in the middle of nine other children, counting his eldest brother, René, who died from cancer when Armando was very young. Armando’s brother René’s death made Armando the eldest boy. Armando had one younger brother, Sergio; the only other boy. Armando always wondered why Sofia wouldn’t just go bother Sergio, who was her age anyway. But neither Sofia nor Sergio ever showed interest in one another. Yet, Sofia continued to be intrigued by Armando.

Her persistence was admirable, but as they grew up, Armando grew more distant. He was five years older than her and, to him, she was just a silly girl, lost in a fantasy. Regardless, she was his neighbor and a family friend, that he’d known most of his life. So, Armando put up with her relentless pestering. Afterall, she was just a little girl; he knew one day she’d grow out of it.

Their families had little money. Seeing his own parents' struggles gave Armando the ambition to help with work at the young age of twelve. He knew his parents could use the help, and he hoped that he could make sure his little brother wouldn’t have to work as hard as he or his father did. He wanted his sisters to go their own way, not worrying about taking care of their parents or younger siblings. He wanted to carve their own destiny for a better future, somehow providing more than enough for all of them, so that they could live and not just survive. But he was smart enough to know goals had to be realistic. So he started early, one step at a time. Armando was a dreamer, but he was also a go-getter; these traits joined together created one ambitious young man.

By the time he was sixteen, Armando was making enough money to provide extra funds for the family while working for a new blue jean company that arrived in the valley. That was in 1986, and his father, René, was growing frail in his older years. Armando began to seriously worry about him, which only drove him to work harder. René Trujillo had worked in agriculture since he was a teenager. All Armando’s life, his father was a specialized harvester, but now René was an irrigation manager. It was easier on him, but it paid less.

Within one year of working for the blue jean company, to his family’s surprise, Armando was promoted to a shipping manager role, which took him all around the country and paid him very well. It was an industry that his father didn’t know anything about, as he’d been in agriculture for his entire life. The North American Trade Agreement, or NAFTA, wouldn’t

take effect until 1994, but industry was already changing in the valley. René was the worker of the past, and Armando was of the future. 

Even though he traveled frequently, Armando never left the country. He’d been all over from the Bajas to Chiapas. He had his charm and there were times women gave signals, whenever he stopped for a drink somewhere to get out of the motel. But he always kept to himself, and he refused to pay for a night. He only ever wanted to do his job and get back home to his family.

In her later teen years, Sofia never would let up in chasing after the older boy, always checking up on him, and embarrassing him the same way by pestering him in the street when he was out with friends. By the time she was turning seventeen, Armando secretly began to grow fond of her, and jealous too when the young men would start speaking up to Sofia. She would always deny it though, and it seemed that she was fixated on Armando still.

But he was twenty-one by then. She was still a kid and he was a man now. But she was one of the people in his life that gave him a reason to come back home. He couldn’t deny his feelings internally, but he was ashamed of himself for it and kept it to himself. She was still his old friend, so he began to bring her gifts from his journeys, just like she used to bring him. She was always checking up on him when he was away; asking when he’d be back.

Every time Armando would return home from a trip, his mother would go on and on about Sofia this and Sofia that. She truly wanted the two to be together and thought that Sofia was a sweet girl, who deserved a good guy like her son. Lucresia would implore Armando to go visit Sofia, since she’d asked so much about him while he was away. So, Armando ended up just stopping at Sofia’s home first whenever he would arrive back in town. That way he could relax at home after his long journey without being pestered by Sofia’s ghost possessing his mother.

But by the time Armando was over eighteen, Irma grew overprotective over Sofia. She was now beginning to see the young Armando she’d always known in a different light.

And then one day, Irma chased him off, shouting at him, “Get out of here! Find a grown woman! Stop chasing after my little girl!”

This humiliated Armando in front of his neighbors, and it solidified his shame.

Irma had her reasons to be overprotective. She first married at the age of seventeen to another man before Sofia’s father in the spring of 1955. They had a son, but Irma lost her family in a tragic automobile accident near the end of 1960, due to one driver’s impaired vision. Irma’s husband and son were struck by a bus that lost control. They were walking home; Irma had barely been hit, but it caught her hard enough to knock her unconscious. She suffered from minor retrograde amnesia.

Her memories of her former family were very little – some from the impact of the accident, some from the trauma blocking her memories, and some from the time lost. After all, she only had twenty-two years at the time. She didn’t remember the accident at all. She was spared from that horror, but the loss left a hole in her heart.

Irma remarried in 1974. No one judged her for remarrying. Sofia would come around a year later. The fourteen years between the accident and her second marriage was something of a depressed blur. She had become a ghost. But then, she was alive again. And, even when the second husband left her, she would have Sofia, born in 1975; and that was fine enough with Irma.

She’d sadly all but forgotten her first husband. It was too painful to remember, when she even could. Her son, however, was someone she didn’t want to forget. But the memories were diluted forever, like a photograph barely saved from a fire. She would dream about him sometimes. And sometimes she would wake up and just cry in her bed. Sofia would hear her, but they didn’t talk about it. Irma didn’t want to. His name was Pablo, like his father. He had four years of life before he was lost to this world.

Armando understood Irma. He knew her story. He respected her. And he agreed with her. He could say he was only trying to be nice to Sofia, but he knew that it was an excuse to see her anyway. For some reason, Armando couldn’t find himself falling in love with anyone. He didn’t think he deserved to be with anyone. He just wanted to work to care for his

 family. He didn’t think he was “in love” with Sofia, but he had known her his entire life; and she cared about him, possibly more than anyone else in the world. He just couldn’t ignore that sort of love. But, for the right reasons, he tried.

Armando began to avoid Sofia completely. They wouldn’t speak for over a year, until she confronted him on a rainy day in August of 1993.  

It was not long after her eighteenth birthday, and she couldn’t take the distance anymore. Armando was returning home from an errand; he seemed to either ignore her, or maybe he didn’t notice her, and she was hesitant to call out his name. He began to run to escape the rain, so she ran after him and gained the courage to get his attention. She was already heading to his house to see if he was home. He hadn’t spoken to her in so long, and she understood why, but she figured he’d at least wave at her or be nice to her. He wouldn’t even acknowledge her anymore. And he always came to wish her a happy birthday, but this year he broke the tradition. She felt it was her personal right as an old friend of his to confront him about it. The only birthday gift she wanted was for him to be honest with her.

It was the rainy season; the rainiest day Tehuacán had seen in a while. It added the right element of dramatic theater, which was why Sofia chose the moment. She brought the little trinkets and souvenirs that Armando had given her from his journeys in a bag. When she got his attention, he came up to her, despite his silent protest and the rain soaking his clothes. 

Sofia grilled him about his avoidance of her, “Why are you being this way? You can’t at least say something to me?”

He didn’t speak, but he looked at her with sympathy.

She stomped with frustration but didn’t say anything. Instead, she just showed him the gifts he’d given her through the years inside the bag. He couldn’t deny that he was touched that she held on to them, but he couldn’t find the words fast enough.

“Armando, I want you to ask me to marry you.” 

This shocked him, and he didn’t know what to say. 

“Are you crazy, Sofia? I’ll never marry you! Okay?” 

This was like a punch in the gut for Sofia, and she just stood and listened with her jaw gaping and eyes wide, as the rain fell through her hair and rolled down her face. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I’ll never marry you, Sofia Moreno. So, stop pestering me. Just like your mom said. I’m a grown man, and you’re a little girl.”  

“Well, I don’t care what my mom says!” Sofia interjected. “I’m eighteen now, and I can make my own decisions! I don’t care what she says. I don’t care what the whole pinché Tehuacán Valley has to say about it! And I don’t care what you have to say either, Armando!” 

“What? You are crazy!” Armando was so confused. 

“You’re just too much of a coward to admit it, Armando. You love me. You’ve always loved me. I can see it in your eyes. And I care about you! So, who cares what my mom thinks? No one knows you like I do, Armando! Can’t you at least be honest with me?” 

She was now sobbing and stepping toward him, but he was backing away. 

But then he stopped and spoke up, “You need to go home, Sofia.” Just like he used to when they were little kids.

That broke her; she stopped, settled down, and listened. And then she went home, whimpering in the rain. Now she was humiliated after making a scene in the street. She made a fool of herself for nothing, and her heart was broken.

She made a walk of shame back home, wishing that he would come say something to her, but she was almost home, and it seemed like it just wasn’t meant to be. She had a very youthful, innocent interpretation of love, believing their story to be romantic, like in storybooks. She just wished he saw it the same way. 

Then she heard footsteps behind her. 

It was Armando. 

She turned around to him, and then he held out his hand and opened it. 

It was a little pebble, with faded and chipped red paint. 

The first gift she’d given him, thirteen years prior. 

He couldn’t let her go like that. He couldn’t do this to her, and he couldn’t do it to himself. She looked down at the pebble and was astounded. She’d forgotten all about it, but when she saw that little pebble, all her memories flooded her imagination. She remembered the girl and the boy. She saw their lives all over again, and she knew she wasn’t being overdramatic. 

It was meant to be. 

Armando didn’t know what to say, but for the right reasons, he tried.

“I carried this with me every time I left town. For years, I kept it in an old shoe box with other memories, stashed away. But whenever I left, I took this with me for good luck and because it made me feel close to home. No matter where I went, I had this with me. This was my heart.” 

Her words were lost. She was shocked, and he could see that, so he continued. 

“Sofia, I’m so sorry. I promise my honesty to you from now on. Will you give me another chance?” 

They stared at one another for only a second, but it felt like an eternity. Then she reached for his hand with the pebble in his palm. As soon as their hands clasped, he pulled her toward him to embrace her. They held onto one another tightly as she buried her face into his chest; just in time for him to notice her poor mother behind her on their stoop catching a glimpse before running back inside. Irma knew that the dreaded day had finally come.  

Armando was going to take Sofia away. 

The young couple married immediately the following month, in September 1993.

In October of 1993, Armando was offered a job by an American distilling company to be a foreman at one of their factories. This job would offer a salary, fringe benefits, and opportunities to grow within the company. However, that came with a sacrifice. The company wanted him to move away from Tehuacán. And they wanted him to relocate quite far away. Sofia was ecstatic to hear the news at first. But for Armando to tell Sofia that they would have to move to Texas in the United States was a shock to say the least, and she became overwhelmed at the news. 

She didn’t want to leave Tehuacán. Especially to go somewhere so far away. And she certainly did not want to go live in a foreign land. It would be one thing to leave Tehuacán, or the state of Puebla itself. But to leave the country? And to live in this new place? Sofia protested the idea, even putting her foot down. But Armando explained to her that this was a big opportunity for their family and that they could have a better life in the United States. They wanted to have a baby and wanted to make the best life for their child. But it was so sudden for Sofia. And she wasn’t so sure if life in the United States would be better for the child they longed for. Everyone knew a lot about American pop culture, but Sofia never really did care much for it. She was an old-fashioned, traditional girl, practically made from the soil of the valley she came from. She couldn’t just leave home. She would need time to meditate on the entire idea.  

Seeing that Sofia was overwrought, Armando let her think it over and decide in her own way. So, she went to see what her mother thought about the idea. Armando worried, knowing that Irma was not going to take the news lightly. 

So, the mother and daughter talked it over at the table in the center of Irma’s kitchen. It was around five o’clock late in the afternoon, and the sun was falling to the west, as it was early March, and it didn’t stick around so long into the day yet. Irma’s kitchen faced the west, and the sun light poured through the windows in an orange tint onto the two women. The mother and daughter resembled one another. One looked a little older, but not without her charm; her good looks never left with her youth. Irma was a small woman at the age of fifty-six. Her hair was beginning to turn grey and white in the front, above her eyes. She had Sofia when she was in her late thirties and, at this time, Sofia had eighteen years but would have her nineteen birthday later that year. 

Sofia was a gorgeous woman, like her mother. Her Nonoalca-Popoloca genes were prominent with high cheek bones, golden brown skin, and hair as black as midnight; braided in a ponytail. She had dark almond shaped eyes, yet still wide and pronounced. She had a sweet, innocent smile that could melt anyone’s heart. She had inherited her mother’s nose, which was straighter like the Iberians rather than the Mesoamerican

hooked nose like her fathers. Armando always considered himself the luckiest man. He too was Mestizos, but his Iberian features were more prominent, making him look more like a Mediterranean Spaniard. He had short brownish-black hair, wide brown eyes, and a goatee. He didn’t think much of himself, but people always told him he was a charming man. Together, they were quite a handsome young couple. 

Irma hoped that Armando would be a better man than Sofia’s father. This was another reason that Irma would worry about her daughter, who would be leaving with her husband to a foreign country. It wasn’t easy trusting men after what had happened to her. She trusted Sofia’s father with all her heart. He said he would stay but left two months before Sofia arrived. He said he’d love Sofia, but he never even met her. Worst of all, he had said he loved Irma many times; and she believed him. It was hard to believe anyone else. It was hard to trust Armando to not do the same to her only child. 

It was a Saturday and Armando was home from work. He was waiting there for Sofia, letting her have time alone with her mother to discuss the move. Irma was upset about it, and she just didn’t understand why they had to leave so far away and so soon. 

“It’s just one of those things, mama.” Sofia explained in Spanish, “His job has given him this opportunity, and he has to take it now or it will be gone and who knows if it will ever come back.” 

“Well, how do you both know that this opportunity is so good?” Irma disputed, “What if you go up there and you don’t like it and then you’re stuck in Texas?” 

“I wouldn’t be stuck in Texas, mama. If it is that bad, then we can always come back.” Sofia promised her mother. “He’s going to make a lot more money working in the United States and there will be more opportunities for our growing family. And we can send money back to take care of you.” 

“That’s not true, mija. There are many opportunities here in Puebla, as industry has been growing here. He could find work in Puebla City or Mexico City that would be as good as the work he could find up there and you wouldn’t be so far away. And I don’t need his help. I’m able to support myself.” 

“Mama, you’re going to be sixty in only a few years, and you still have to work at that factory with no end in sight.”

Irma worked in a floral factory, packaging flowers. This was something that Sofia hated to see for her mother. 

“I don’t want that life for you, mama. I want to help you get out of that place. These jobs in the states pay much more an hour, than many jobs in Mexico pay in a day. After a few years, we could build a savings here in Mexico that could last us a lifetime! As foreman in the factory, my husband will make a salary. And a good salary at that! Not just some daily wage! Think of it, mama. It would take care of us. Of you!” 

“You’re just repeating the things he told you. You know I’m not fooled by these false promises. And don’t you worry about me, mija. It’s you that I should worry about and care for. And I won’t be able to do that with you being so far away.” 

Irma had always been so close to her daughter. Before Armando, it was just the two of them, sticking together without the need of any jerk of a man, who was too pusillanimous to step up to his responsibilities. They struggled with little money throughout those years. Irma didn’t have any proper education, and once Sofia’s father left, there was little to no resources at the abandoned family’s disposal. 

Sofia knew her mother needed her. She knew that leaving her was something that would break her heart. She didn’t want to upset her mother, but she knew that this was a wonderful opportunity. She had her own life to live. And ‘would it not be temporary?’, she had thought to herself the entire time. Sofia was anxious about the move, but she wanted to make her husband happy, and she wanted to get the family out of poverty. She also wondered if she would enjoy seeing another place. She had only left Puebla once before, and she couldn’t deny that she was a little curious about seeing the United States. Sofia figured that they could always come back to Tehuacán if they hated Texas, and, well, what if they loved Texas? What if Irma could come join them in the United States? ‘So, why not take the chance?’, she thought. 

“Part of me wants to go though, mama. You know that I’ve never left Puebla, besides once to Veracruz on the one vacation we could afford. I’ve barely left Tehuacán. I’d love to go see the world. Now an opportunity has come, and I think that I should take it. I’m just so scared at the same time. I’ve never been so far away from home.” 

It was almost true that the family had not traveled out of Puebla, except for their trip to Veracruz. Besides that, they had been to Puebla City a few times for some family reunions. The trip to Veracruz took a lot of savings for Irma, but she got to show Sofia the beach for

the first time in her life at the age of twelve. It was a wonderful trip, and Sofia was grateful for the memories she shared with her mother. But they hadn’t gone anywhere else before or since, for the most part. However, Puebla is a beautiful state, rich with mountains, forests, and rivers. They visited much of their own home and couldn’t complain about what mother nature provided for them. On the rare occasions that they would visit Puebla the family would take Irma and Sofia to see the beautiful Spanish and French architecture of the city and the historic battlegrounds of The Battle of Puebla. They visited Cholula, home to the Great Pyramid, Tlachihualtépetl, – a Nahua name, meaning ‘hand-made mountain’. It is said to be the largest construction built on Earth, and it was a visit that always stood clear in Sofia’s memories. Most of all though, Sofia remembered the volcanoes of Puebla. They intrigued her and even somewhat frightened her. 

Yes, they were blessed with rich history, culture, and geography in their home of Puebla, but Irma couldn’t deny that her daughter had an opportunity that she had never had before to see so much more of the world. She thought over her daughter’s words and, for a moment, her life raising her daughter had flashed before her eyes. All those beautiful memories of Sofia growing up in their home. They didn’t have much money or possessions, but they had one another and they had their little home in Tehuacán. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs. But Sofia had so much more time and opportunity. Irma wanted her daughter to be happy. She was just so worried about either not seeing her daughter ever again, if she were to leave and never return, or something bad happening to Sofia; and there would be nothing that Irma would be able to do about it, if something bad were to happen. 

But she had to let her daughter be free. And most importantly, she had to let her daughter find her own happiness. Sofia was her own woman now and she could make decisions for herself. And if Irma had raised her right, then this bird could fly on her own. 

“I know that it would be a great thing for you, mija. I want for you to enjoy your life, even if I can’t always be there to see it. You should go and see the world.”  

Irma reached her hand out across the table to Sofia, who clasped it as tears began to fill her mother’s eyes. 

“I just didn’t expect that you would be gone so soon. You’ve only been married for less than a year, and I felt I lost you then. Now you’re really leaving home.”  

Sofia stood up and motioned for Irma to join her. Irma stood up and the mother and daughter held one another as Sofia tried to comfort her.

“This will always be my home, and you will always be in my heart. I will never forget where my true home is, and I will be back as much as I can, no matter how far away I am.” 

And Sofia meant it. No matter where she would go in the world. Irma and Tehuacán would always be in her heart.  

“I love you, mama.” 

Irma stepped back and held her daughter by her shoulders. She looked into the young woman’s eyes and was so proud to know that her daughter was a woman now. 

“I love you too, mija.” 

But then Irma pondered something, and a worried expression grew upon her face. 

“Just please beware of those white Yankees. Malditos gringos. Because many of them do not like Mexicans like us. Especially Mexican Indians like us. Many gringos are full of racism and entitlement. There have been many stories about white Americans hurting our people.” 

Sofia looked concerned about this. She didn’t think about being persecuted. She was afraid of traveling so far away and she was afraid of not seeing her mother for a long time, but she hadn’t thought about if she would be accepted or not in this foreign land. But then she became confident in herself.  

“Well, I will not let them scare me. I will be a respectable person, but I will stand my ground if any one of those gringos tries to hurt me. I’m not afraid of them.” 

Irma sighed and shook her head, “I know, mija. I know that you’re strong like your mother. But I’m not worried about you fearing them. It’s the gringos who are afraid of you. They believe that we’re the bad people and many of them don’t want us to come to the United States. And that fear is what makes them scary. Because they aren’t rational when they’re filled with so much ignorant fear.” 

Sofia looked to her mother, taking strong consideration about what Irma was telling her. Irma could see the fear she had put into her own daughter’s eyes. She suddenly realized the irony and knew that she was expressing the wrong ideals to her daughter. She didn’t want Sofia to be filled with hatred for white Americans. And she didn’t want the same fear to pollute Sofia’s mind. She had been overcome with her worries, but she had a moment of clarity that made her retract her previous statement. 

“But fear is a sickness. And that’s why you should not fear them the same way, I assume. You should go see the world. And you should not be afraid, despite my worries. Show those people in the United States that we are good people. And you go find other good people there that will maybe show me that not all gringos are bad. Just... Please be careful, Sofia. You’re everything I have in this world. And you’re going to an alien world that neither of us know. 

And for the first time in our lives, I can’t be there for you.”

MARCH 1994

The young couple would drive all the way to Texas from Tehuacán in a car provided by Armando’s work; a manual five-speed, tan 1988 Volkswagen Jetta. The name Tehuacán is a Nahua name, and it’s said to have many meanings, but one translation says it means “place of divine water”. The day before, Armando stocked up on two crates of mineral water, one carbonated, and the other non. That was for Sofia, him, and the Jetta, just in case it overheated. They started their trip early, around five in the morning, as the sun was about to rise. Irma, and all of Armando’s family had come to wave the young couple away. As they made their way down the bumpy little cobblestone road, Sofia looked back and waved to them. She could see them waving until they were tiny silhouettes in the distance, and then they were gone. She would miss them all, especially her mother. But as long as she was with Armando, she was home. And she hoped that their home would grow, and they would bring back more family one day. One day they would all be together again. 

Sofia didn’t know how to drive yet, never really having a reason to with everything she needed only a rather short walk away, and she still only had eighteen years. But her role as co-pilot was very important in getting them to the border quickly. At this time, the road conditions were more neglected, with large potholes, lack of street lighting, and unmarked speed bumps. Sofia had their Guía Roji map to help navigate. She also took care of watching the heat gauge, while Armando watched the road. He warned her that they might have to take several delays in their journey on the side of the road, but he calculated everything out to make sure they would be somewhere safe by nightfall. Those waters were going to help a lot with keeping the two of them hydrated, as well as keeping the car cooled down. And that was Sofia’s final job: constantly handing Armando some water when he needed it. He warned her to be careful while drinking out of the glass bottles on those bumpy roads, and that he’d hate for her to lose a tooth of her pretty smile. 

In 1994, there was a lot of construction being done on Federal Highway 135D, which wouldn’t be finished until later that year in November. If only they had postponed the journey because this highway would have saved them a lot of time, but they didn’t mind. The journey was savored by Sofia and Armando was an experienced traveler. Sofia was ecstatic to finally go somewhere other than Puebla. She hoped that this would be the first of many journeys in her future.  

At the time, Mexico’s only gasoline provider was Pemex, so they would be stopping regularly at one of their green and white signs with the red eagle on it. Armando was assertive to the gas attendants. He hated having them service the Jetta and kept an eye on them to make sure they didn’t try to rip him off. Back then they would try to start pumping

without resetting to zero; overcharging you. Sofia hadn’t usually seen that side of him, noticing that there was a look he gave the attendants she was unfamiliar with. She could see it made the attendants uncomfortable when they would stop, and at first, she questioned him for being so hard on them, until he explained why. Then she was happy to know she was traveling with her husband, who was not only smart, but also vigilant and strong. She didn’t know how he learned so much on his own, as she realized that she wouldn’t know where to begin starting a cross-country trip. But he had been traveling since he was sixteen for work, while she was only eleven when he started. He had a lot of experience that she hadn’t even been able to acquire yet. 

About two hours into their journey, around seven in the morning, they took their first gas stop in Puebla City. Armando promised that they would visit the Iztaccíhuatl–Popocatépetl National Park to see the volcanoes, but that proved to be a more difficult task than he remembered. Armando hoped that they could get to some short trail in a short time, but it ended up taking over two hours and raised his anxiety and blood pressure, along with the heat gauge on the Jetta. Sofia had actually seen these two volcanoes before, but she wouldn’t dare say anything after all of Armando’s commitment. She knew it made him happy to do this for her. He didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, in reaction to the inconvenience, even though she could tell he wanted to; she knew her husband’s anger issues. For the love of God, she knew him since he was ten years old. He loved her so much. He would contain his emotions for her, even if all the pain in the world were erupting from his heart. She loved him, too, imperfections and all. They both loved one another so much. 

Her mother had once told her a story about these two mountains they were visiting. Something about the mountains being a prince and princess; or representing them at least; she really couldn’t remember. Her mother told her when she was a young girl. What she didn’t remember at all was how cold Puebla could get, being more elevated than Tehuacán, and she hadn’t brought a big enough coat. It was almost eighteen degrees Celsius back home that morning, and that was about as low as it ever got there; but it was under ten in Puebla City on this morning. Armando gave her his coat and endured the journey at Sofia’s reluctance; but, as mentioned, she knew he wanted to make the trip special, so she went along with the trip. They took the smallest hike they could, so not to tire themselves too early on the journey and found a beautiful view. They sat for a moment to rest and behold the magnificent sight of two of Mexico’s highest peaks (after Pico de Orizaba, or Citlaltépetl, which is the highest peak in Mexico, and third highest in North America) before making their way back down to the car to continue their journey north. But

on the way back down, Sofia began to feel woozy and needed to take a seat, feeling utterly embarrassed as people walked by her, noticing her drawn expression. 

A peculiar man took notice of her. He was an older man, carrying a walking stick with beautiful carvings; Sofia was sure he had carved it himself, or maybe a loved one had. He had the look of a monk, as his head was shaved, and he had a small build at maybe just over five feet tall. And most peculiar of all, he had a pet raven standing on his shoulder, never leaving his human friend. He came up to introduce himself to the young couple, telling them his name was Tlamatini; he also introduced his pet bird, who he called Yolotli. A genial man, Tlamatini wanted to assist the young couple, offering Sofia some water. After Sofia told him that she lived in Tehuacán, and hardly left, he told them that he was from Perote and used to high elevations. He continued to advise that the lofty elevation was hard on non-locals, and to make sure to drink plenty of water whenever hiking, especially in mountains like Puebla. He had asked if she had eaten yet, to which Sofia admitted that she hadn’t, except for a small breakfast at five in the morning. The man shook his head but smiled and laughed. He handed her a small chocolate candy, wrapped in thick white paper, telling her to eat something, and that it was Oaxacan, so therefore, “the best chocolate in the world”. He gave another one to Armando, who reluctantly accepted, at the man’s insistence. Sofia smiled at Armando, who came across like a young boy in the presence of the wise, old man. While Sofia drank a little water and ate her chocolate (which she was convinced may have been the best chocolate in the world) the man told them about his ancestors that lived in Perote, not too far away, long ago, claiming that he only had the blood of the Otamí and Nahua, and no Spaniard blood. He claimed to have walked all the way from Arizona in the United States, on a spiritual journey, and now he was finally almost back to his home of Perote after six months of walking. Sofia thought to herself that she was happy to have the Volkswagen to get to the United States much quicker. They were looking at arriving sometime the following day. He asked them if they knew the story of the mountains; Armando shook his head and Sofia told the man what she knew. 

Tlamatini began to tell them the story. 

“When you look to her,” 

He pointed to Iztaccíhuatl and looked back to Sofia. 

“Izta; she rests.” 

Then he turned his head back to the mountains and pointed to Popocatépetl, 

“Popo was a Tequihua; a great warrior.” 

Sofia stood up beside the man to get a clearer picture of Popo and Izta. 

The man lowered his arm and continued. 

“Izta was a Cihuapilli; a sophisticated noblewoman yet still used for arranged marriage to create alliances. Her father was the Tlatoani; a powerful leader of the Tlaxcalan people. They were at war with the Aztecs, who surrounded their lands and would take their most valued warriors to sacrifice. Popo and Izta were madly in love; but even though Popo was a Tequihua, he was not a Pilli, or nobleman of high class, but rather a Macehualli, or a commoner. So the Tlatoani sent Popo to a deadly battle to prove worthy in marrying Izta, hoping that Popo wouldn’t survive the battle. A rival for Popo’s love, who was a Pilli, convinced the Tlatoani that Popo had been killed in battle; and this news was delivered to Izta. Under immense grief, Izta died from heartbreak. But Popo did not die in battle. And when he returned to find his love had died, he carried her body to the mountains, where he made a tomb for her. There he stood beside her with a torch for the rest of his days.” 

Sofia realized she was entranced to the story. She was feeling much better and had forgotten all about feeling woozy a moment prior. She looked back to Armando to see his reaction to the story, but he seemed to not be as moved as her. The old man continued. 

“To this day you can see her resting.” 

He pointed along the mountain. 

“Izta lies in eternal sleep.”  

Then he pointed to Popo and said. 

“And Popo is still angry at the loss of his love. To this day, he is still active. He will wake up again this year. I hope he does not destroy us all!” 

Then the old man laughed, which slightly disturbed Sofia, but she tried to laugh with him, putting it behind her. After all, she understood. She didn’t blame Popo for being angry, if any of it were true. 

Sofia thanked Tlamatini for the story and for the water and chocolate. He said it was no problem with a smile and wished them well before telling them they were protected by “los ojos de cielo” or the eyes of the sky, or heaven. It was a peculiar thing to say, but a nice sentiment, nonetheless. 

On the way out of the Puebla valley, the couple hit another snag on their journey; the Jetta was struggling with the climb. Luckily, Armando knew a few road trip secrets, and had anticipated this, hence the mineral waters. It put a delay on the journey, but while ascending out of the valley, Armando was constantly watching the VW’s heat gage, making sure that needle never hit that little red line. Sofia herself tried to watch it as much, as she was instructed, but Armando felt he could handle it for the meantime, as he wanted her to

enjoy the scenery on this part of the journey. That made her smile, but she couldn’t help but worry a little. Armando had everything planned though; they would stop several times to let the car cool down. He’d use the non-carbonated waters from Tehuacán; but first he’d wait for the pressure to drop, the engine ticking to subside, and the steam to end its hissing before using a rag to open the cap, avoiding burning his hand, just in case. Then he’d slowly pour the water into the expansion tank. Sofia observed him, impressed by her husband’s capability. 

“You’re so smart.” 

Sofia complimented her husband. 

He shot a bashful glance her way with a smirk, but it faded quickly. 

“Just doing what I got to do to get us where we have to go.” 

Sofia’s expression shifted to commiseration. 

“Don’t be an idiot. You always sell yourself short, Armando.” 

He glared at her with annoyance. Her hair was blowing in the wind, and those eyes found their way to his soul every time. The glare didn’t scare her, but her stare always melted the man. 

The expression faltered and his lips formed a smile again. 

“Don’t call me short, baby; I have plenty to give you.” 

He then put the water down and embraced the willing Sofia, as they began to kiss passionately on the side of the highway. 

Several cars honked at the young, married couple, but they didn’t care. No les importó. 

With these precautious interruptions, Sofia learned to take care of the cooling while Armando would rest his eyes for the fifteen-minute delays. With that extra rest, Armando was able to make it to San Luis Potosi by nightfall, around ten at night, where they would find a room at a motel on Highway 57. He was so exhausted but made sure to get a quick bath before lying in bed. As soon as his head hit his pillow, he went into a deep sleep. 

Armando was up before Sofia around seven the next morning to get ready. He let her sleep a little longer, in no major rush. They had made great time, even with the stops to keep the car going. There was a coffee pot in the room, so he brewed some, and the aroma woke Sofia up. Armando had opened the curtains, allowing the soft morning light to pour through white sheers in the window, and the room was now bright. Seeing him awake, dressed and ready, and the smell of the coffee gave her a warm feeling; she was truly happy to be alive; so excited to continue their journey together. She wished they could be like the older man and just travel and visit many more interesting and beautiful places. If Sofia had her way, she’d never stop in Texas. She’d continue until there wasn’t any more path. But Texas

would soon be her reality, and she would take it. There they would make more money, and her children would get to see the world one day; her mother too, Sofia had hoped. The chains of poverty would finally be broken. But when Sofia awoke, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t been taking advantage of her time to do something she promised herself. She needed to learn English, which Armando knew how to speak. For the rest of their journey, Sofia would need to practice. She was ambitious to learn; one word at a time, getting closer to understanding another world.  

Before they got back up on the road, they stopped for breakfast at a restaurant on site at the motel. The meal hit the spot, and they were ready to get to their next stop in Saltillo for refueling and cooling down the car. On the way back to the Jetta, Sofia noticed a raven, just like Yolotli back in Puebla, sitting on the hood of the car, as if it were waiting for them. As they approached the Jetta, the bird didn’t seem startled or move away, as if it knew them. Sofia had the strangest thought, wondering if this bird was Yolotli. That seemed odd to her, but she just smiled. 

“¡Buenos días!” 

She cheerfully greeted the bird. 

Armando seemed perturbed and shooed at the bird, to Sofia’s protest. 

“Armando, be nice!” 

He shook his head. 

“Well, we’re about to start driving, Sofia. What? Is he supposed to sit on the hood for the rest of the trip?” 

Sofia had a little box of food, as she hadn’t completely finished her meal. She took a small piece of egg and gave it to the bird. This was met with more disapproval from Armando. 

“Don’t feed it!” 

Sofia rolled her eyes, but smiled. The bird took the gift and flew away. 

“Good,” 

Armando started. 

“It’s gone now. Let’s get going, my love.” 

Armando got in the car, and Sofia began to get in, but took one last look at the bird. It was flying northward along the highway, the same way they were going. ‘Maybe he was going to Texas too’ she had thought with a laugh. 

On their way to Saltillo, they had to stop north of Matehuala for a military checkpoint. This was a quick stop, luckily, and they moved on quicker than Armando expected. It seemed

the inspectors didn’t have too much to worry about with interrogating this innocent, young couple. So, they got on with their journey fairly quickly, in spite of Armando’s worries. They were back on the road around eleven in the morning. 

Their detour in Saltillo took about an hour to ensure the Jetta was doing fine, and they got some lunch and plenty of water. There was another road scare entering the valley on what Armando called this part of 57 “las cuestra de los muertos” or “the slope of the dead”. But, just like before, Armando simply kept an eye on the heat gauge and stopped when necessary. They were running low on their Tehuacán water and would need to resupply soon, but they had plenty for drinking if they got stuck for a while. They were now officially in the Chihuahuan Desert, and it was beginning to get much warmer. But they had made it to Saltillo and made sure the Jetta could at least get to Eagle Pass, where Armando had a specific mechanic waiting for him, already paid for by the company. They were back on the road around two thirty in the afternoon. 

Their journey out of the Saltillo valley would be the most arduous of all, as they continued to ascend and reach the higher climates of the Chihuahuan Desert, closing in on the U.S. border. Eagle Pass would be their light at the end of the tunnel; the lighthouse on the final shore. But they would never cease their surveillance over the heat gauge, and they would need to take a few more stops before hitting the border. Over that time Sofia would ask Armando how to say anything she saw in English: the shrubs, the land, the signs, the road, the bird... There was that bird again. She noticed him, flying to the east of them, but in the same direction. But it seemed that once she noticed the Raven, it fluttered east until the black dot was no more. She tried to let it go. If she mentioned it, Armando would think she was going insane or, at least, begin to tease her. But the Raven would not escape her mind. 

For the first hour back on the road, Sofia and Armando went over basic English words like the weekdays, the months, places, animals, and more. They went over simple phrases someone would use in their daily life, like “Where’s the bathroom?” or “Have a nice day!”. They listened to many cassettes on the journey to help as well. Armando made several mixtapes. He was adamant about keeping them in the cubby holder, because if they were left in the sun they’d melt, or maybe even catch fire. They listened to “Beatles” mixtape first, which Sofia enjoyed starting with, considering she was actually familiar with their music. She loved the song “She Loves You”, hearing versions in Spanish several times back home. 

They took a quick break on the side of the road approximately at four in the afternoon just before arriving in Monclova to cool and water the car. There, they talked about the water,

the engine, the shrubs around them, the road before them; anything Armando could interpret from Spanish to English to help Sofia’s vocabulary. They kept forgetting to practice the Spanish earlier in their journey, but after Saltillo, it became the primary objective, and they were consistent in the lesson, no matter what they were doing. They were back on the road around four-fifteen. 

The heat continued to rise each mile it felt at times. Each pothole and speed bump that shook the car, raised Sofia’s blood pressure, and she began to feel like how Armando did back in Puebla. She wasn’t used to this dry heat, and she wasn’t a fan of it after being trapped in the Jetta for so many hours. She tried to be optimistic, but the scenery didn’t help with this positivity. Now she was only watching the heat gauge again. Not only because this “slope of death” was taking its toll on the car (and the young, traveling couple), but also because there wasn’t so much beauty to admire anymore; not compared to the magical mountains of Puebla. There the car had to climb a lot, but now she almost missed being cold when visiting Popo and Izta, and she missed the lush, vegetated mountains. Everything she saw around her became so desolate and perpetual. This never-ending desert went on forever, and the heat only made it comparable to hell at times. Sofia wondered if it would end soon, so she asked Armando if Texas would be different, to which he couldn’t help but laugh. He regretted informing her that their destination was in the very same desert. This was their home now; and Sofia didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Armando tried to cheer her up by playing some more music with another mixtape that he made for her. This one was “The Carpenters”. Sofia loved this, and it was a great moment to escape the desert. Armando was so surprised that Sofia hadn’t heard of them. He loved American music and had a big catalog in his memory, but Sofia didn’t know much about popular music outside of her home and time. But she loved Karen’s voice. She asked some questions about the woman and when the band was popular, to which Armando gave a brief backstory, ending with Karen’s tragic death back in 1983. This broke Sofia’s heart, as she thought about the beautiful voice she was hearing; a voice that was bridging her gap from Spanish to English. 

The song Superstar came on next, and from the start of the song, Sofia identified with the melancholy tone. Armando told her the words of the song. The thought of Karen’s pain for a loved one was so much to bear when knowing how things ended up for the singer. Sofia was in her own pain, but unable to understand what was happening inside of her. A storm was brewing in her heart, even though she was trying her best to remain positive and happy. When Armando started interpreting the chorus, the somber whirlwind began to grip her emotions and tangle them in a mess. 

“Don’t you remember you told me you loved me baby? You said you’d be coming back this way again, baby! Baby, baby... oh baby! I love you. I really do.” 

The music, the words, the scenery, and Sofia’s thoughts were all colliding together at once. The new “home” she was seeing didn’t make her excited but rather devastated her. The heat was getting to be too much and the car felt like it was getting smaller. Karen’s voice began to speak a million words in a million languages other than English, or even Spanish. Somehow, she could hear her mother in Karen’s voice, as if she were back in time, once again with her mother when they were younger; back home in the Tehuacán Valley. Somehow, she couldn’t get over it any longer. 

She was terribly homesick. And then she began to break down and cry. Armando stopped the car on the side of the road.  

Armando shut off the car, and looked at Sofia, but she pulled her legs up, placing her feet on her seat. She crossed her arms, and tucked her face into them, bringing herself to a sitting fetal position in her chair. Armando was highly concerned, but he wasn’t completely surprised. He anticipated her to be overwhelmed at some point. But it hurt to see her like this for several reasons. 

“What is it, my love?” 

He asked. 

“I can’t do this, Armando.” 

She cried, keeping her face hidden. 

“I can’t...” 

Armando sighed heavily and looked out the front window, pondering. Then he tried to understand her. 

“Sofia, I know what you’re feeling. I’m older than you, and I wasn’t supposed to, but... There were times I thought of you. I knew you loved me. I always knew it somehow. I never pursued another woman. You’re the only woman I truly know, and I swear on my life that’s the truth. But I know this feeling Sofia. I know what it’s like to be out here and feel alone. But not this time. This is the first time I’ve not been alone; ever. You’re the only home I’ll ever need Sofia.”  

Armando didn’t realize at the moment, but this was exactly what Sofia needed to hear. She had always held him close but never knew how he felt back when they were young.

Secretly she’d always wanted him to think of her when he wasn’t home. And now she knew for sure he had been. But it didn’t speak for all her emotions, although it did make her feel better. 

She lifted her head and looked addressed him. 

“I love you so much. And you mean so much to me. But I cannot say the same thing, Armando. I love my mother so much. And I miss her so much. I love Tehuacán too, and I don’t really like what I’m seeing.” 

She took a look around and then looked back at her husband with tears in her eyes. 

”I don’t know if I can live in this place.” 

Armando didn’t know what to say. How could he force something on his wife? He didn’t want to lose her, but he didn’t want to kidnap her. She was still young. This was a lot for the young woman to bear and he knew it. After all, he’d been on the road since he was sixteen. He endured it, but it wasn’t something he’d force on anybody. He had all the empathy to offer her, so he tried to start that. 

“Sofia, I’d do anything for you. Including turn back around and take us home.” 

Sofia looked around at their surroundings. She thought about how it must have been for Armando. She looked off to the horizon that seemed to be so far away; in both directions. In one direction was the woman she would be, and in the rearview mirror was where the girl had been. They had passed this bridge of no return it seemed. As she looked on the horizon, she saw a raven again. It was circling. Just a normal raven, looking for food, she had thought; but it still opened her heart, and she knew it was her turn to offer empathy. 

“No... We can do this.” 

She nodded and looked at Armando, who wiped her tears from her cheeks with his thumb. 

“You are my home now. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m your wife. And soon, I’ll be the mother of your children.”  

She looked back at the raven, and she wondered if it were really Yolotli. In some ways, she assumed it was, in some way. “Los ojos de cielo”. 

“I’m sorry. I can do this, my love.” 

Armando smiled.

“Never apologize for being you, Sofia. That’s what I love about you.” 

She giggled. 

“What? That I’m me?” 

He laughed back and shrugged, before starting the car back up. 

“Exactly. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” 

Her eyes were still watery, but she felt a little better; she thought that Armando was silly at times and didn’t make much sense. It didn’t matter. She knew that he cared for her, and she cared for him; they wouldn’t put one another through anything they wouldn’t put themselves through. They were in this together. They were on the road again. Sofia was getting tired, so Armando told her to go ahead and take a nap, hoping she’d feel much better when she awoke later. It was just after five, and the afternoon was shifting to the evening. 

Sofia was walking down a beautiful, calm trail, descending a long hill. She was walking without shoes and was wearing a blue maternity dress, although she was not pregnant. The weather was perfect, not too chilly like in Puebla that day, and definitely not too hot like back in the car on the road trip through the desert. She’d forgotten all about being in the car. There were tall green trees on both sides of her. Birds were singing, and the gentle sound of nature humming all around her; a rolling stream could be heard nearby. There were no sounds of chatter from people or any footsteps apart from her own until she heard a soft voice down the trail, singing a sweet song about the beauty of this nature surrounding them. She couldn’t see the person behind the voice just yet, as the trail bent a little. She came down and around the corner to find Tlamatini, the little old man from Puebla, sitting on a rock. Sure enough, Yolotli was resting on his shoulder. He greeted Sofia, to which she noticed that he was not speaking Spanish, but some ancient Mexican dialect like Nahua. The odd thing was that Sofia could tell he wasn’t speaking Spanish, and she couldn’t speak any other languages, but somehow she was understanding every word; even if she couldn’t respond back in the same tongue. Yet, that wasn’t the most shocking part. When she spoke, she spoke in clear, dictated English, like a Yankee. She didn’t know how she was doing it, and similar to hearing the man, she almost couldn’t understand her own words, but they came out and she still did understand somehow the general meaning of her thoughts. The old man smiled at Sofia, amused by her confusion. Then he told her:  

“Do not fear the unknown. Embrace it. We are all one, and we will all return to the light one day. We are not brothers, sisters, mothers, or fathers. We are one. We are Yolotli.” 

Then Yolotli flew from his shoulder to land on Sofia’s. Tlamatini continued. 

“Do not be afraid. Yolotli is with you. We are all the eyes of the sky in the end. And until you join us after this life, the eyes will watch over you and your family. You will bear a child that must be born.” 

Suddenly Sofia realized that she had a baby bump. 

“Am I pregnant?” 

She asked. 

The old man shook his head. 

“Not yet. But the child you will bear must be born. Have no fear. Yolotli is with you.” 

Sofia woke up and realized it was all a dream. When she awoke, she could see they were in tight traffic. The sun was down. Up ahead were large signs of green with big white letters, some saying “ALTO - ADUANA” or “STOP - CUSTOMS”, with others warning, “UNITED STATES BORDER – NO TRESPASSING”, and others being more kind, saying, “LA PUERTA DE MÉXICO” or “MEXICO’S DOOR”; and one big, blue sign that stuck out, which read “WELCOME TO TEXAS – TEXAS: IT’S LIKE A WHOLE OTHER COUNTRY”. These signs glowing, reflecting bright yellow lights, lined like soldiers for miles, illuminating a long narrow bridge, stretched over the Rio Grande. It was the U.S.-Mexican border. They had made it to the United States of America. Armando saw Sofia was awake and spoke. 

“Good timing, my love. We’re in Piedras Negras. Just beyond this line is our destination for the night in Eagle Pass, at an old friend’s home. He’ll be working on the Jetta in the garage. Grab our papers from the cubby please. Let me do the talking, since I speak English well. The documents will do most of the talking anyway.” 

The smell of gasoline was strong all around them from the unregulated exhaust pipes of hundreds of vehicles lined along the highway with glowing red eyes staring back at the young couple, while shining yellow ones gazed at their back and reflected in their mirrors. The fumes mixed with antifreeze and engines burning oil, colliding with the polluted scent of the river that blended an unpleasant cocktail stench in the air that did not match the feeling of finality anyone would desire, or at least that’s how Sofia felt. The sun wasn’t beating on them anymore, but the humidity was something fierce that evening, and Armando continued to worry about the car overheating, while crawling in a line of traffic on such a narrow bridge with nowhere to pull over. Obnoxious honking vehicles would occasionally compliment the sound of the hissing and ticking of engines, which constantly made Armando uneasy, worrying if it were another car or his own that was sounding worse than the other at times. Armando, his eyes constantly on the heat gauge, left big gaps before him, trying not to run his engine too much, giving the right amount of room to creep forward without braking. This caused the vehicle behind him to vociferate honking every time; the pilot of a brand-new silver 1994 Ford F-150, who even cursed at Armando, shouting in his Texan English drawl. It was a Yankee man, no doubt, and his family, on their way back from vacation in Maztalán probably; and for some reason it was inconvenient for Armando to leave his family waiting for any moment at all, only for the destination to be a few inches forward before stopping again. The man flashed his bright lights so they were shining on the young couple to intimidate them. Armando held tight to the steering wheel and the stick shift. He was gripping them with intensity, obviously getting more and more frustrated with the rowdy, unreasonable man behind them. But Sofia grabbed his arm and comforted him. 

“We’ve come too far to let someone like him ruin it for us.” 

Armando looked at her and smiled, all while not realizing that the car in front of them had rolled about two car lengths forward. This caused the car behind them to cry out once more with its incessant honking; but the young couple just smiled to one another and began to laugh at the whiney man behind them, knowing he was much more miserable than they were. They rolled forward, and eventually, the man calmed down, most likely because his wife was sick of having a husband much less patient than Armando. 

They finally arrived at their place in line. Only a few feet before them sat the golden shore of The United States; the promise to the new world that the shackles of the old world would be removed from the ankles of humanity itself. 

During the Clinton Administration, starting originally in 1993, the United States border culture changed dramatically to stop illegal immigration right at the gates. Long before Trump’s “Big Beautiful Wall” of the twenty-first century, Bill Clinton had built his own wall; but his was made of people, and lots of them. There was a literal wall made of agents in their green uniforms, next to their green government trucks. When Sofia and Armando arrived at the line, it was so bright, it was like daylight. They had lights made for a futball field, glaring down on the entire imaginary line that separated the same Chihuahuan Desert into two separate nations. The line wasn’t imaginary anymore. Not with the people, the vehicles, and the bright lights. The United States made sure to draw a physical line in the sand, beyond the Rio Grande itself. It was their line; not mother nature’s. It was a new culture, long away from the day Lady Liberty first lifted her lamp in New York City. This new organizational culture would meet face-to-face with Sofia and Armando on this stop. 

The lights stung their eyes, bright in their face through the windshield, painting them in white. There was a booth on both sides of them, with the one to their left having two agents inside; one white and one brown, like a Latino; the brown agent was the one to approach the vehicle. The young couple felt and looked vulnerable, which was absolutely the border agents’ plan. Armando tried to make a good impression, smiling and being polite with a warm greeting; but he was cut off by the Mexican-looking agent, who refused to be convivial, before he could barely begin speaking. 

“Papeles.” 

“Papers.” 

The agent spoke in a curt tone. 

Armando didn’t hesitate. The agent hadn’t hurt his feelings. If anything, it was Armando who resented sharing conversation with the likes of this representation of what he considered a tyrannical force, only designed to intimidate honest people like Sofia and himself. He looked at Sofia, who had the papers ready and handed them over. This was their passports and visas, as well as his I-797 from work, and a letter from his employer, Rudolpho Domingo, CEO and founder of Domingo Enterprises Inc., based out of San Antonio, Texas, U.S.A. The couple sat and watched with anticipation as the man flipped through the information. His eyes were lifeless to them. They were mechanical, cold, and systematic, rather than friendly, welcoming, and genuine.  

The man tested Armando. 

“Where are you moving to?”

“Marathon, Texas.” 

“What county?” 

“Brewster.” 

“Why?” 

“Because my company is housing me and they’re paying for my journey. I’m the foreman for Domingo Distilling and Distribution, a division of Domingo Enterprises Inc.” 

The agent just stared at Armando. Armando stared back. Neither of them broke until the agent finally did, only to look back at the documents before he lowered them to his side; then he spoke. 

“Cut the engine off.” 

The agent called over the white man from the booth, who came over to grab the papers from him and read over them again himself. He made sure to take his time. The silence was deafening. It was almost as if there weren’t any more honking, hissing, or ticking; no more voices. Just their heartbeats. They hadn’t done anything wrong, but the way they were being treated made them feel like they had. It made them feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. 

The second agent spoke. 

“Where are you moving to?” 

So, Armando tried to answer, but the agent cut him off. 

“Not you... I’m asking her.”

Armando tried to explain, “Sir, she doesn’t...” 

“I’m not talking to you.” 

The agent’s tone was assertive. This shook Sofia. The man was being aggressive and he intimidated her. Meanwhile, she realized that she’d never met a Yankee before; this was the first time, and she was beginning to feel the same feeling she felt when she first saw the Chihuahuan Desert. She didn’t like it. He was aggressive and impolite for no reason. Even the militant officers back near Matehuala weren’t so unkind. Although robotic, they still treated the young couple like human beings. These officers treated Sofia and Armando like a game. It wasn’t a test for the young couple, but a test to see how far they could push a person with their position of power. With Armando’s interruption, the agent decided to change the procedure. He asked the two to exit the vehicle.   

Two other agents came over to assist the officers in searching through the young couple’s car, while the original agents questioned Sofia, forcing Armando to sit to the side. Sofia could see them rummaging through their things with little regard for their belongings. She looked to the Ford that was behind them; she couldn’t see their faces because of their lights, but she knew the voice of the man behind the wheel. She knew they had complained about them before, and now they were probably enjoying seeing Sofia be interrogated, while simultaneously feeling justified in his irritation with her party. She wondered about the impression she was making on people like her. What stories would that family tell the people they knew? 

As they questioned her, she tried to think of all the English she’d tried to learn on the journey. 

“Why are you moving to Texas, ma’am?” 

“I... my... husband work in Texas.” 

“Okay... how long have you been married?” 

She didn’t know what he even asked her. She didn’t know how to answer, and she forgot the words “I don’t understand”. She thought about the praise Armando gave her in her successes, and the motivation he offered when she failed. Now, she was trying her best and she could tell the officers were getting more frustrated with her. 

“Non-English over here.” 

The agent announced to the others. 

The Latino-looking agent walked up and asked her, “Do you not speak English, Señora? ¿Hablas Ingles?” 

She replied in Spanish, “I’m sorry. I promise I practiced, but I’m forgetting now.” 

The agent looked frustrated with the response, but in a more remorseful way, that said he was sympathetic to the young girl. Sofia felt that deep down, he was only being hard on her because he had to be in front of the other agents.

They formed a group near the Jetta and began to talk more about Sofia amongst each other. She could tell it was an unpleasant conversation. She looked at Armando, and she could see his simmering rage. She hated seeing him like that. She had never seen him so frustrated in her life, as she had on this trip. In fact, she had never seen Armando angry at all since he was a little boy, fighting the other kids in the street. 

She had never seen such a desolate place. She had never dealt with such cruel people. And she had never felt so homesick in her life. And as the men kept talking about her like she was a dog, she just stared off into space; those lights shining on her, exposing this young, vulnerable eighteen-year-old girl before the line of impatient travelers who could see that she was causing some sort of trouble. That was her first impression to these representatives of the new world – a troublemaking, inconvenient Mexican. 

She couldn’t take it; a tear began to softly roll down her left cheek. She didn’t moan or sob. She held a broken stare, and another slow, painful tear rolled on her right cheek. Then more followed on both sides of her face; her blank, shattered expression remained stagnant. This got the agents’ attention, and their conversation deescalated as she had somehow reached their humanity within the sterile mechanics of their interrogation process. 

“Okay, okay,” The Caucasian agent spoke out. “Let’s get going. No need to get all crybaby about it. We’re just doing our job, lady.” 

Sofia looked down. She didn’t understand, but she knew she was getting off the hook by hearing the tone of the man’s voice. It didn’t change the shame she had buried deep in her skin now. She wore this shame like an ensemble of bright colors for all to see. Everyone could see her down that line of traffic. They saw a Mexican woman getting interrogated until she cried. She was humiliated. 

The were now in the United States, driving through the Texan desert for their final stretch. It was only about ten short minutes to get to their destination for the night. After they got off the main artery, they were on a quiet road, and they were quiet as well, not speaking to one another. They didn’t know what to say. Sofia didn’t feel like complaining about it, and Armando was so angry inside that he couldn’t find the words. Sofia thought to herself that she probably should have gone back home when she could. She realized that back in Coahuila, she still had the chance. Her point of no return was metaphorical at that point, but now... now it was real. They were far away from home and in another world. And she didn’t want to go back anywhere near the border; not for a long time at least; not until she learned English. It was time to become a Yankee. 

They officially made it to the house in Eagle Pass around half past nine that night. There was a man sitting on the porch, smoking a pipe, and listening to one of Sofia and Armando’s old favorites: Vincente Fernández. He turned the radio down, put away his pipe, and stood up as the car inched down his dusty driveway. Sofia could smell the aroma of his tobacco drifting in the air, mixed with the dry Texan soil dancing in the air around the Jetta once they parked. The night strangely wasn’t so humid anymore. It was even a little chilly and windy, but not too much so, making a nice transition from the scene they’d left behind. It was as if the border was hotter, like it was somehow closer to hell, and the Rio Grande would split open one day and take everything down with it. Sofia’s memory of the border would always be tainted after that night because of those agents. But now they were safe from the bright lights and robotic officers at this quaint, modest bungalow, under a sea of stars shining above. There was a large, white garage; separate from the building. Armando greeted the man from the driver seat, asking if he should park anywhere specific, to which the man told him to go ahead and park where he was. 

Armando cut the engine. The ticking and hissing of the engine slowly ceased, as it finally began to rest, leaving the sound of crickets, the soft echo of Vincente Fernández passionately proclaiming that “la eternidad es solo un instante para amar” or “eternity is just a moment of love”, and the wind blowing calmly on the soft night. The Jetta had done them well. Sofia referred to the Jetta as she now, which Armando thought was funny. They stepped out and Armando began to walk over to their host, reaching out to shake his hand, to which the man pulled Armando in for a hug. The two men laughed and embraced one another, the man patting Armando on the back. 

“It’s good to see you, old friend. It has been too long.” 

Armando stood back from their hug to take a look at their host and shook his head in agreement. 

“Yes, much too long.” 

Armando looked back at Sofia, who was still standing on the other side of the Jetta. He motioned for her to come over and she did. The gravelly yard crunched under her shoes as she walked around the hot Jetta, that longed for a check up. 

“Alberto,” Armando started, “I’d like to introduce you to my beautiful wife, Sofia.” 

Alberto looked to the young woman and smiled kindly. 

“Ah yes, beautiful is right. You’re a lucky man.” 

Alberto reached his hand out to shake her hand, to which Sofia obliged. 

“Mucho gusto.” “Mucho gusto.” 

At this moment, a woman stepped out the front door. Alberto acknowledged her, motioning for her to come over. 

“Ah yes, perfect timing. Now you shall meet my beautiful wife, Claudia.” 

Claudia came over to meet the young couple. The older couple somewhat mirrored the younger one. A handsome couple, about in their early forties, and they had lived in Texas for twenty years now, right there at their little bungalow in Eagle Pass. Once upon a time, they traveled to the United States, just like Armando and Sofia. 

Claudia could see distress in Sofia’s eyes, and she didn’t want to make her wait any longer to find comfort inside. 

“Please, let’s get you inside. You must be hungry and want a bath. Come make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.” 

“You go ahead and show Sofia inside, mi amor. I’m going to catch up with my old friend and we’ll be right in.” 

Alberto patted Armando in the back again and Armando smiled. 

Sofia was perplexed by Alberto. Armando and the man seemed like they knew each other their entire lives, but Sofia had never seen the man. And he’d been living in Texas for two decades. How could Armando know him so well, even with his life traveling? She assumed it must have been through work somehow.  

Sofia followed the nice lady, Claudia, inside her home. The porch was wooden and covered in the constant, traveling specs of Texan land that ran about wherever it pleased.

As they walked inside the home, three little heads peeked from around a doorway to a hall, adjacent to the home’s entrance. 

“Get on to bed!” 

The woman ordered the children in Spanish. 

“You can meet our guests in the morning at breakfast. But now is time for sleep.” 

It was an older girl, a little boy, and a little girl. The eldest respected her mother and rounded up the children. 

“Sorry, mama.” 

She said to Claudia, as they made their way back to their room down the hall. 

Claudia watched them go and then shot a smile at Sofia. 

“Kids. They’re God’s little miracles, but they’re also the Devil’s minions if you don’t raise them right. Do you plan to have kids one day, Sofia.” 

Sofia didn’t answer, hanging her head to hide her bashful smile. But Claudia saw it. 

“It’s okay. It’s none of my business. Just be warned. It sounds fun in theory, but it’s a never-ending job. Even when they’re not in your home; you’ll always worry about them.” 

This made Sofia think about her mother. 

The house was quaint. Claudia was sweet. The children were cute. Sofia had looked around as Claudia spoke to the children and noticed that the home was decorated a lot like her mother’s home. The Virgin de Guadelupe was on the wall. Candles kept the mural awake in the night, and they smelled of lavender. There was a ceiling fan humming above them with a yellow light that assisted the candles to reveal the entire room in the night. It was a nice home, filled with nice people, but Sofia was heartsick. Nothing could fix that at this moment. 

Claudia noticed the broken girl, as Sofia’s eyes were pooling. But Sofia wouldn’t cry; she held it in. But it was obvious that something was eating away at the young woman’s emotions. And it was time for Claudia to step up to be there for this poor, homesick teenage wife.

“Hey now. It’s going to be okay, alright.” 

Claudia motioned for Sofia to come in for a hug. 

Sofia didn’t know Claudia. But, for some reason, she needed it, so she embraced the woman, who held the young lady, like she were her own daughter. Sofia began to let it go, and Claudia encouraged her to, so that she could let it out. Sofia remained respectfully quiet in her sorrow, not only so the children would be spared from the drama, but so the men wouldn’t hear her. She explained herself as Claudia tried to calm her. 

“I’m so sorry, Señora. But I just want to go back home to my mother. I don’t like it here. The people were so mean to me. I tried to be a good person, but they just kept being so mean to me. I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

Claudia tried to calm the girl down. She understood all too well. She’d heard the stories about how border agents were fierce these days. Back when Claudia and Alberto arrived in the United States, things were much simpler. They arrived in the 1970’s, when Armando was a little boy and Sofia was just born. It had been a long time since “Operation Wetback” in 1954, which extinguished the Brocero Program during WWII, and in Claudia’s time of immigration, things were very relaxed at the border relatively. But the United States flip-flops on when Mexicans are welcome in the states. Now was another time of hard surveillance over the Mexican-Americans. There were times that Claudia worried her family would be profiled, although they had not dealt with any trouble at that point. 

But it was obvious now that Sofia had encountered the trouble. Those agents had shaken this poor, young woman to her core. 

“Don’t apologize to me, Sofia. I understand, although I can’t imagine what those agents have put you through. But I do know what it’s like to leave your home. If it makes you feel better, these are the same symptoms I had, and everyone has. You’re going to feel this way at first. But you obviously came all this way for a reason, right?” 

Claudia was now holding Sofia by her shoulders and looking at her. Sofia nodded to answer her, but she was sniffling and trying to pull herself back together. Claudia continued.

“Well, don’t let those gringos get you down. They’re just trying to scare you. Don’t let them. They think they’re big and tough with their uniforms and guns, but they’re just a bunch of silly men, dressed like clowns, am I right, Sofia?” 

Claudia smiled and she took her hand to lift Sofia’s chin up. Sofia giggled through the tears, but she hid her face quickly, embarrassed by her depressing expression. Claudia reached over to grab her a handkerchief. 

“It’s okay. I have three little kids, and I like to mother everyone. Would you like a bath, Sofia? I’m sure that could help you relax, after all you’ve been through.” 

Sofia nodded, “That would be very kind of you, Señora, but I don’t want to be a burden.” 

Claudia waved her hand and shook her head, “Nonsense, young girl. Remember? My home is your home.” 

She began to walk to the hallway, and waved for Sofia to follow. 

“Come, come; I have some fresh towels in the closet here. There’s another bathroom in the garage if anyone needs it. You get all cleaned up.”  

Sofia followed Claudia into the hall, where there was a little closet door about a foot off the ground. Claudia opened it with a little, old-fashioned knob and there were some towels hanging inside. 

She handed one to Sofia, then offered, “Do you need a nightgown.” 

Sofia shook her head, “No thank you, Señora. I have one in the car. I’ll go get my luggage.” 

Claudia smirked with a laugh, “Sofia, you don’t have to call me Señora. It makes me feel old. Feel free to call me Claudia.” 

Sofia smiled, and, for the first time that night, she felt a little more comfortable in Texas. 

“Okay, Claudia. Thank you so much for your hospitality.” 

And then she stepped out to grab her luggage.

Before Sofia stepped outside, Armando was having a conversation with his old friend in the garage. 

“So, my friend, how is life down in Puebla these days?” 

“It’s Puebla, you know.” Armando replied. “She’ll never completely change.” 

“Good. I hope it stays the same always. I miss my home of Ajalpan sometimes, but my children don’t even know it. Eagle Pass is their home now. Their mother isn’t even from Puebla, you know? She’s from Chihuahua. I met her there twenty-three years ago, while away for work. In all my journeys across the country, Claudia was the only woman I met, in my years and miles, that meant something to me. I promised my faith to her, and when the time came, I retrieved her and we came here to settle down.” 

“Why Eagle Pass?” Armando questioned the older man. 

“Well... Claudia’s father’s family came from here. You know this used to be Mexico? Her father’s people had been here all along. We came to live with his side of the family at first. Then we inherited this land from one of her brothers. He was much older than her, and he died early. He never married, nor had children, so the family helped us save the land from the bank, so it would stay in the family. It’s nothing glamourous. But it’s ours, and we’re proud to call it home.” 

Armando chuckled and Alberto began to mimic the contagious laughter. 

“What is so funny, Armando?” 

“Well, it’s just funny to hear you talking so wisely. You were always wise. You taught me everything I know now. But you’re wiser now. Maybe you should teach me a little more, eh?” 

That’s when Sofia came out and she heard them continue after that. 

“Yes, it’s true that we share many crazy stories.” Alberto admitted. 

“As long as we keep them to ourselves, right?”

The elder grimly stared in his youthful friend’s eyes; as if to question, in the old Cosa Nostra capisce fashion, whether or not they were in agreement about this oath of secrecy. 

Armando simply nodded but did not say anything. Alberto had faith in his response, simply reading his eyes. He knew Armando well enough to know the intricacies of his mind, and he trusted his old friend, even though they hadn’t seen each other in years. 

Sofia opened the car door to open the trunk, which got the men’s attention. She had surprised them, and they wondered what she had heard, as she wasn’t that far away from them. 

“Hey, my love, let me help you.” 

Sofia, acting like she heard nothing, accepted his help, as he went for the trunk to get her suitcase. 

“I’ll take it inside for you.” 

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Sofia grabbed the handle before Armando could. 

“Everything okay, my love?” 

Sofia nodded without looking at him, “Yes. Claudia offered me a bath. I’ll be okay.” 

Sofia began to walk away. 

“I love you.” Armando spoke up as he watched her. 

She stopped but didn’t turn around. 

“I love you too.” 

And then she continued inside. Armando knew that she must have heard something. But he wasn’t sure. He knew it was possible that she was still shaken up from the trip. He was happy to have her with him, but he wondered what toll this journey was taking on her well-being. 

In the bath, Sofia felt like she was cleaning more than just the sweat and dirt from her body. She felt like she was scrubbing off the last bit of Mexico she had with her. At the same time, she felt like she was cleaning off the grime of the border within and without. Back at Sofia’s home, when you wanted to take a bath, you had to go outside to a furnace and light it. It took a while to get the water warmed up and sometimes it barely worked. Alberto had installed decent plumbing in the bungalow, and the bath had quick access to warm water. For the first time since the motel in San Luis Potosi, Sofia could relax. Although this was just another stop; it was the last one. The next morning, they would be hitting the road again. At least now, they’d be in the United States, the Jetta would have her checkup, and their destination was only about five hours away. It would be like a cakewalk compared to the journey they’d had so far. 

After her bath, Sofia felt nice and clean, with the weight off her shoulders and the tension released. Claudia showed her where she’d be sleeping; there was a couch that could pull out into a bed in the living room. It had already been prepared by Claudia, while Sofia was taking her bath. Armando had already showered off in the garage. Alberto installed a standing shower out there, although it wasn’t the same relaxing bath Sofia had, as the water was not so warm out there. Most of the year, Alberto wouldn’t mind that water being cold, as he was washing off after working on cars in the desert heat. Armando didn’t mind the cold; he just wanted to get cleaned up and off to bed as soon as he could. When Claudia showed Sofia to her bed, Armando was already fast asleep.  

The next morning, everyone joined together at the breakfast table. Claudia had prepared a big breakfast for everyone, making sure the young couple would be well-fed before hitting the road for their final stretch. She woke up around seven to start, and when she stepped into the living room, she saw the front door open and Sofia standing on the porch, soaking in the view around her. It made her smile, but she hoped that Sofia was happy about what she saw. To Sofia, this was a new place, but to Claudia, the Chihuahuan Desert was home. She noticed Armando in bed, still fast asleep. “The poor things” Claudia had thought, knowing they had endured a long, rough road. Sofia hadn’t noticed her, so Claudia got right to cooking, making two eggs for each adult and one for each child along with a full pan of chorizo and some fresh tortillas, made from scratch, just like Irma did back home. 

Alberto had been awake since the sun rose, working on the car in the garage. He didn’t want to start the night before, worrying he’d be too loud. He had a cousin come to help him. By the time breakfast was finished, Alberto’s cousin, Romero, stayed in the garage, finishing up for Alberto, so he could have breakfast with his old friend, possibly one last time. Romero was also from Ajalpan, and had been in Texas for about a year now, living not far away. Alberto helped him establish himself, giving him a job working in his garage.

The Jetta had her tires rotated, which was needed after the rough roads down south. The oil was changed. The brakes were checked but were still looking good, although the fluid was replaced since it looked a little milky. Alberto flushed the coolant system, since Armando had been dumping all that mineral water into the engine. The radiator hose needed to be replaced too, and Alberto added a new, tighter clamp to keep it secure. After they were done, the Jetta was more than ready to finish her journey to Brewster County. 

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining through the windows. The wind was calm and the air was kind and warm. Before breakfast, Sofia stepped out on the porch to let the light hit her face. She felt free that morning. The worst was behind her now. That day, they would meet their new home, and she couldn’t wait. Claudia and Alberto’s warm welcome had given her hope for their future. In Sofia’s eyes, Texas was not as beautiful as Puebla. But she was ready to give Texas a chance now. She was ready to embrace this new world. 

When she walked back inside, she could hear Claudia working in the kitchen. Armando woke up to see Sofia standing in the doorway.  

“Good morning, my love.” 

Sofia smiled to him, but she didn’t say anything back. She proceeded to the kitchen to speak with Claudia. Armando watched her walk away with a perplexed expression. 

“Do you need help,  Señ... Claudia?” Sofia offered as she took a look around. The smell of tortillas, chorizo, and coffee brewing filled the room.  

Claudia was stirring the chorizo up when she heard Sofia. She turned to acknowledge her. “No thank you. Sit down and relax. This is the beginning of a big day. Today, you become a Texan.” 

Armando had told Sofia about Claudia’s Texan roots. She was a Mexican like Sofia, but unlike Sofia, Claudia was a true Texan. It was a right of privilege to have someone like Claudia tell Sofia that she was a Texan. It meant something coming from her. 

Claudia’s eldest son, Al, came in to set the table. He was kind and respectable to Sofia. He was a true, little gentleman. The sisters joined them, taking their places at the table, followed by Armando, who made himself look more presentable in the bathroom. Alberto was last, as he cleaned himself up in the garage before sitting at the table. Claudia would throw a fit whenever he showed up covered in grease and sweat in the kitchen. The family, as well as Sofia and Armando, waited for Alberto before they started eating, but he didn’t keep them waiting long. When he arrived, he looked to Armando with a certain smirk.

“My friend, I hope that you and Sofia will join us in prayer.” 

“Of course, friend.” 

“Bendícenos, Señor, y bendice estos alimentos que por tu bondad vamos a recibir. Por Jesucristo nuestro Señor. Dale pan al que tiene hambre y hambre de ti al que tiene pan. Amen” 

“Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Give bread to those who are hungry, and a hunger for You to those who have bread. Amen” 

After the prayer, and the family began to eat, Alberto’s cousin, Romero, entered the house and found himself a seat at the table. His hands were washed and his face was as well, but he was still quite dirty on his clothes. 

“Romero, you know how I feel about you coming to my table like that. And we have company.” Claudia protested. 

Alberto smirked and defended his cousin, “Oh, come on, Claudia, he’s been working all morning. Give him a break.” 

“It’s okay.” Romero implored. “I don’t mind cleaning up.” 

“It’s no problem, primo. Take your plate and eat. You’ve earned the meal.” 

Romero looked at Claudia, still asking for her permission with his eyes. 

She smiled at him. “Okay, fine. Just please roll up your sleeves so you don’t get grease on the table.” 

Romero was a young man; it was easy to tell. Maybe even younger than Sofia. He was quiet, but it appeared that he had a deep respect for the husband and wife, equally. After he had his first bite, he took an opportunity to speak to Armando.

“The Jetta is looking very good. You’ll have a smooth journey to where you’re going. I have her ready to drive past El Paso, if you were going that far.” 

Sofia giggled. “See, Armando. I told you the Jetta is a she.” 

Armando couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but he shot a quick grin at Sofia. 

Romero continued. “Yeah, she’s doing great. If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you both meet?” He pointed at Armando with his fork and shifted to point at his cousin too. “Not everybody just fixes up a car for free for someone. You guys must have been good friends, but I’ve never met you...” 

“My young cousin,” Alberto interrupted Romero, “...It’s not customary to speak of work in front of the women.” 

Romero was chewing his food, but stopped for a moment, taken back by his cousin’s words. He looked at Armando, who just looked away. Sofia looked at Alberto, but he was giving his cousin a stern look. The table grew silently awkward for a moment; that was no longer than a second but felt longer. The children tried to act naturally, but they felt embarrassed by the interaction. Sofia looked at Armando, but he was still just looking away, and she looked at Claudia, who carried a disapproving expression with a quick glance at Sofia, before looking away as well. Sofia didn’t like that comment. Armando promised her honesty. She didn’t dislike Alberto. He was kind, but he was old-fashioned, and she didn’t like this precedent he instilled in her husband. But she wouldn’t say anything at that moment. 

Claudia broke the awkward tension. “I forgot that I brewed some coffee. Does anybody want a cup?” 

The adults happily accepted their drinks, and after that, everyone continued a friendly morning breakfast together, as Alberto gave the young couple advice about the rest of their route to Brewster County. 

Everyone escorted Sofia and Armando to the Jetta to wish them well on their journey. Alberto did one final prayer to bless their vehicle; each person standing hand-in-hand around the Jetta. Sofia hugged Claudia and thanked her for everything. Claudia promised Sofia that if she ever found herself in Eagle Pass again, she would have a home there. Armando and Alberto shook hands and hugged, saying their farewells. The couple also shook Romero’s hand and thanked him for his hard work. The couple got into their seats and started off, rolling down the dusty driveway.  As they rode away, Sofia looked back to them one more time, just as she did to their family back in Tehuacán; everyone was waving and the children were shouting happy “goodbyes” in English.

The road from Eagle Pass to Marathon was lonely and slow. Back then you couldn’t go faster than fifty-five miles per hour on most stretches, and the fastest you could go sometimes was only sixty-five. They couldn’t risk getting into any trouble, and Sofia didn’t want to have to deal with anymore angry officers. They couldn’t put too much more strain on the Jetta anyway, so they rode in boring silence for the first twenty minutes. They hadn’t even noticed. Sofia was staring at the scenery. She wasn’t as displeased this morning. It was barren, compared to Puebla, but it was oddly therapeutic, watching this new landscape. It was indeed the same desert she had seen yesterday, but Sofia found herself in wonder, trying to truly grasp the weight of the fact that the land she was looking at was in the United States of America. 

They would stop in Del Rio for gas and one last rest stop, to be safe. After Del Rio, they’d be traveling a long way in the middle of nowhere. They had about half an hour left before they would arrive at that stop when Sofia questioned Armando. 

“What were you talking about with Alberto in the garage?” 

Armando didn’t look at her. He shrugged and asked, “What are you talking about?” 

“You said something about ‘crazy stories’ and ‘keeping them to yourself’?” 

“Sofia, if I’m being honest with you,” He glanced at for a moment. For once, her stare was quite intimidating. She wasn’t acting like a silly young person. She was investigating him, and he knew it. And she was serious. 

“I don’t want you to think less of him Sofia, but Alberto used to be a notorious drunk.” 

Sofia read his face. Armando noticed, so he continued to explain. “That’s what all the prayers are about. I’m a religious man, Sofia, but Alberto goes the extra mile. He has plaques of Jesus all over his home and candles, and they’re very strict about Godliness...” 

“I’m fine with all that.” Sofia stated. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s right. I believe in God and Jesus. I also believe the stories of our Indian people....”  

“Come on, you can’t be serious.” Armando interrupted. 

“I am. But that’s not the point, Armando.” She stared out the window for a moment and watched the land before formulating what she wanted to say.  

“I don’t like being treated like I’m less because I’m a woman. And I don’t like secrets.” 

Armando sighed. “Oh great. Are we really having this conversation?”

“Which one?” Sofia got a little loud. 

“Don’t yell at me, Sofia.” 

“I’m not yelling. I’m passionate, and I’m asking you a question. Which conversation is the one that bothers you?” 

“What? What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean are you upset that I don’t sit like a dog when I’m told, or are you upset that I don’t like being lied to?” 

Armando tried to look at her again but knew he had to keep his eyes on the road. They were about twenty minutes away from Del Rio, and he really didn’t want an argument to brew up, marinating in the Jetta until they got there. 

“Sofia, I’m not lying to you about anything. And I never said I agreed with everything Alberto says. He’s old-fashioned. We were guests in his home. What did you want me to do?” 

Sofia didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The silence grew, and they were suffocating in it. 

“Sofia, I mean it. It’s not what you think. Alberto is just embarrassed that he used to be... a little crazy. It’s something he would never want his children to know. I don’t know if Claudia even knows. And he wouldn’t want you to know. I’m not lying to you, Sofia.” 

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have a chance either, as Armando thought of something else to say. 

“And I’m sorry about what he said. I think what he was trying to say was that back in his day, a husband worked, and they didn’t bring their work home. Their wives had enough going on with their own work to put up with their husbands’ work life. He doesn’t want to burden Claudia with the thought of it.”  

“Your life is not a burden to me, no matter where you are. Is the same true for me? I can’t tell you about my day? If you need to talk to me, you talk to me. And I doubt it would be a burden to Claudia too if Alberto talked to her about his life, even at work. And if she really loves him, then she’ll accept him for who he was, and who he is now.” 

Armando didn’t say what he was thinking, because he was worried it would escalate. He was thinking that Sofia was naive. Instead, he just told her,  

“Okay, Sofia. Well, we can just forget about it anyway, as far as they’re concerned. We’re going to Brewster County, and who knows when we’ll see them again. I don’t think like that, so don’t worry. And I swear that I wasn’t a notorious drunk.” 

Sofia pondered for a moment, trying to keep a straight face, but then she couldn’t help but laugh. This made Armando laugh too. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You’re still a notorious drunk, Armando.” She continued to laugh. 

Armando was smiling, but he looked somewhat offended. “What? I only drink on the weekends!” 

“Yeah, but you drink enough to kill a horse.” 

“I just have a high tolerance.” 

Sofia settled down in laughter. “Well, that’s the truth. It doesn’t make it healthy though.” 

Armando shook his head, but he appeared entertained now at least. “You know what? We should listen to music. What do you think? Let’s see what they have playing on the radio in Texas.” 

Sofia tried the radio and found a station playing something upbeat and electric; a synthesizer bringing traditional sounds to life in a new way over a cumbia rhythm. Sofia couldn’t put her finger on it, but there wasn’t something about this music that was different than what she was used to hearing in Puebla, but it still had a Mexican heart. A woman started to sing over the music, and Sofia instantly loved her voice. 

“Who is this?” She thought Armando might know, since he’d traveled a lot. 

He listened for a moment. “I don’t know.” 

The girl on the radio continued to sing. 

“Como la flor Con tanto amor Me diste tú, Se marchitó Me marcho hoy, Yo sé perder Pero, ah-ah-ay, ¡Cómo me duele!” 

“Like a flower With so much love You gave me you It withered I’m leaving today I know how to lose But, ah-ah-ay How it hurts!” 

“Maybe we should change it.” Armando suggested. 

“No!” Sofia stopped him from reaching for the radio. “I like it.” 

They listened to the song all the way through, and Sofia listened closely so that she could hear if the DJ would say who they had just heard. But after the song ended, the radio went straight to commercials. Sofia turned off the radio, irritated with the station for not telling her the name of the woman she’d just listened to. 

“Don’t worry.” said Armando, “We’re in Texas now. I’m sure you’ll hear her on the radio again soon. Hey, look.” 

Armando pointed out a sign that said Del Rio was only 15 miles away. 

“Take advantage of this next stop. We’ll be driving through the wilderness for a long time after Del Rio. Then it will take us less than four hours to get to our new home.” 

They didn’t see much of Del Rio other than the gas station and the thoroughfares of North Bedell Avenue and Veterans Boulevard. They were still well fed after breakfast, so they didn’t need to eat after only about an hour of travel, but they did grab another two cases of water (one for them, and one for the Jetta), as well as some snacks, to be on the safe side. You never know when you’ll need supplies when traveling through the wilderness. Armando was right about the fact too, as they didn’t see much except the never-ending floor of shrubs for miles. Almost immediately after leaving Del Rio, they crossed the Amistad Reservoir, which was quite a sight, relatively. The best view was about half an hour after the reservoir though; rolling across the Pecos River Bridge, standing about 270 feet above the water below. The first moment Sofia saw the towering walls carved out by the history of mother nature, she had found her first intrigue with the landscape of Texas. It wasn’t the same as Puebla, but you could not deny that there was something interesting about this place. There was a certain magic to it. Sofia watched a black bird in the distance, effortlessly gliding over the enormous abyss of the canyon. Again, she’d wonder if it was Yolotli, but she was more captivated by the bird’s freedom to explore such a vast space; to fly free anywhere in the world. 

Texas had its charm towards Sofia after all, and she decided at that moment that she was going to embrace her new environment, get to know it; explore it like the birds. If she wanted to start a family, she wanted them to know about the place where they were born, even if they left it eventually. This place would be a part of Sofia now. Southwest Texas would always be Sofia’s first home in the United States, and she would do her best to earn her place as a representative of her new home. For the rest of the journey, Sofia saw the Chihuahuan Desert differently. She searched for every rock, every canyon wall, every different shrub, cactus, and plants. It was a warm day and the weather was kind. The sun would beat the Jetta, but she would make it safe without any struggle. Sofia cranked the lever to open the window; the rushing wind was loud and wild, but she let it rush in. She wanted to hear this wilderness too. She somehow found the chaotic wind relaxing. Sometime after passing the town of Sanderson, Sofia drifted off to sleep. 

Armando understood that Sofia was nervous about her communication barrier, especially after her border encounter at Eagle Pass. But he knew that she needed to get out of her comfort zone. On their last gas stop, he decided to ask Sofia to go inside and pay for the gas. This was one of their primary educational scenarios they had gone over several times on their journey, so he felt this was the most appropriate time. This station was on Highway 385, just north of the town of Marathon. Sofia still struggled with forming and understanding full sentences – conjunctions, prepositions, and conjugation of verbs – these were things she still hadn’t learned, along with the vast vocabulary, each word bringing her closer to understanding another world. But now, she feared being harassed by some rude person for her “inconvenience” in their convenience store. But she also didn’t want to be judgmental. But her anxiety took over when looking at her barren, worn-out surroundings; her impression of the gas station outside of Marathon was a little old shack in the middle of nowhere with two old pumps out front. 

She made her way inside the station, telling herself that she was a Texas resident now, and everyone was just going to have to get used to having her around. She took a deep breath, told herself that she could do this, and opened the door. She held herself with confidence and a smile as she entered the station. She would be respectable, and she wouldn’t be afraid. 

When she came in through the door, a little bell over her head rang and she heard a voice from the back reply to the noise. The English-speaking voice sounded like it came from an older man. She understood, “One moment!” “¡Un momento!” But didn’t understand him when he said, “I’ll be right with you!” She was so anxious and didn’t say anything. She tried to go over words that she knew in her head, but she just couldn’t form a sentence. Her simple education provided by Armando, that she’d only known for two days, consisted of counting to twenty, color names, and phrases like: ‘¿Donde es el baño?’ ‘Where is the bathroom?’ or ‘¿Como te llamas?’ ‘What’s your name?’ along with ‘Me llamo Sofia’ ‘My name is Sofia’ or ‘Tengo hambre/sed.’ ‘I have hunger/thirst.’ She knew that the man couldn’t hurt her. The worst-case scenario would be the man getting frustrated with her. Yet, she was a shy person; she didn’t like to upset anyone. And those border agents had traumatized her. She felt like a burden on these people. She felt like she didn’t belong. But she knew that she belonged, regardless of everyone’s overwhelming feelings, including her own. 

The shop was small and simple; two aisles to the left when you walk inside, placed parallel to the front windows. There was a line of coolers on the back wall, and a large fan installed in the far ceiling corner adjacent to the front door. To the right of the door was a space next to the counter with snacks, magazines, and tobacco products. A radio was sitting on the counter, and to Sofia’s dissatisfaction, it wasn’t the woman’s voice she had heard in the car earlier that day. She was really hoping to learn who that singer was. She wasn’t surprised of course that this Yankee gas attendant wouldn’t have Mexican music playing. But she didn’t dislike the song she heard. She tried to listen to the words, soaking in as much English as she could. It was a Yankee song, no doubt. Something older, but different than what she was used to hearing. The man sang sweetly. 

“If you need me; Call me! Don’t wait too long If things go wrong I will be home.” 

Sofia found herself deeply listening; watching the radio, as if it were showing her the group of talented musicians. 

“Hey there!” a voice scared Sofia back into reality, and the face of the man was not something Sofia was expecting. 

The station manager was an older, black man. Suddenly Sofia found herself to be the one who was culture shocked. She hadn’t ever thought about it, but Sofia tried to remember a time when she saw a black person in the flesh back home. Afterall, Sofia never did get out as much as she wanted to. Maybe a few times in her entire nineteen years she had seen a black person, but she honestly wasn’t sure. 

“You like some Wilson Pickett, huh?” 

The man seemed nice enough. He was clean shaven and bald; tall and lean as any man she’d ever seen, standing around six-feet-four. He had a bright smile and full, delighted eyes. Sofia tried to say something, but all she managed was: “Wil-son Pick-it?” in her thick accent. This made the man chuckle. 

“Oh yeah, he’s the man; my all-time favorite soul singer, but don’t tell James Brown that.” 

The man began to hum along sweetly to the melody as he stepped behind the counter. He had come from the janitor’s closet between the counter and the bathroom. For a moment, she realized that she wasn’t even breathing; she was so nervous. Would his demeanor change when the language barrier became a conflict? The man could see that Sofia looked perplexed and he returned a confused gaze.

“Well, can I help you, miss?” He asked in a charming voice. 

Still looking baffled, Sofia tried to compose herself and think of something to say in the few words of English that she knew. She understood the phrase, “can I help you” “te puedo ayudar usted.”. It was one of the phrases that Armando had taught her.  

“Yes...” She said in her thick accent, “I need the gasoline... five dollars please.” 

She placed the five-dollar bill on the counter and slid it over to the man, who looked down at it and back up at Sofia. Then he chuckled a little as he took the bill and began to ring her up on the register. He wasn’t chuckling because of her thick, broken English though. He was amused by Sofia’s intrigued expression. She didn’t realize it, but she was staring at him. She had worried that he would be a prejudice white man, impatient with her lack of English, but on the other hand it turned out that she was shocked to be meeting an African American man for the first time, and it was Sofia who was now coming off as rude, lost within her captivated perplexity. 

“You new t’ Texas, ma’am?” He asked her in his own southern drawl. 

She didn’t understand as she shook her head and gave a funny scowl, but she smiled. The man realized that she didn’t seem to understand too much English. 

“¿No hablas Ingles?” He asked her. 

Her face lit up and she smiled at the sound of her native language, but then she realized she was exposed and just shook her head. 

Then she asked, “¿Hablas Español?” 

He chuckled and shook his head in return. 

“Nope, just that phrase and a few others.” 

He saw that she didn’t understand so he reiterated in his best Spanish, 

“Muy poquito.” 

She smiled, indicating that she understood. 

The man continued, “No English, huh? Well damn, I bet you probably haven’t seen many colored folks down where you’re from.” 

She didn’t understand a word he said, but he knew that already. He decided to be polite to this stranger, who he assumed was now living in the area. 

He put his hand to his chest, “My name is Walter. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Sofia understood this, smiling once more and responding slowly. 

“My name is Sofia. It’s nice to meet you, Walter.” 

The man pointed at the Jetta out the window and handed her the receipt with a genuine smile. When she looked out, she noticed that Armando was coming inside. It seemed he was curious as to why it was taking so long for Sofia to get the payment processed. 

“You’re ready on pump one, ma’am.” Walter said to Sofia before Armando walked through the door, ringing the little bell over his head. 

Armando expressed his own surprised glint in his eye when he cast a view on Walter. Then he appeared just as shocked to see Sofia striking conversation with the black man. 

“Oh, hello sir.” Walter started before continuing, “Is this young lady your wife?” 

“Yes.” was all Armando replied, coldly. 

Armando looked at Sofia and asked in Spanish. 

“Did you pay him yet?” 

“Yes, I did. He was helping me practice my English.” 

Armando scoffed, “Well, let’s get going, Sofia. We still have half an hour until we arrive at the house.” 

He walked out, as the little bell rang once more. Walter couldn’t understand what they were saying completely, but he felt the tension. Sofia tried to smooth out the rough encounter. 

“I am sorry. My husband is...” 

She forgot the words “tired” or “sleepy”, but she remembered another phrase. 

“We traveled far.” 

“Esta bien, Señora. Mi casa es su casa.” 

The man’s kindness warmed Sofia’s heart. Walter seemed like such a kind and sweet person to Sofia, and she liked him right away. He was soft spoken, and she loved to hear people like him speak English. She smiled at the man before walking for the door. He smiled back and called after her as she began to walk out.

“Come back anytime, Señora. ¡Buenos dias!” 

When the young couple got back in the Jetta and rode off, Sofia confronted Armando about his behavior toward Walter. 

“What was that about back there?” 

Armando, who was driving and focusing on the road, replied, “What are you talking about?” 

She scoffed at his reply. “Well... you seemed a little rude to Walter.” 

Armando shrugged. “Walter? I don’t know. I just don’t trust people like him.” 

Sofia looked confused. “What do you mean? You mean because he’s a darker person?” 

Armando could tell that he was upsetting his wife, so he tried to explain himself. 

“I don’t know. I’ve talked with some of the others that I work with. They know more black people than I do. And they tell me stories about them. I just don’t know if I trust those people here in America. I know more than you do about it, Sofia.” 

“Okay... Like what?” She asked. 

Armando didn’t respond for a moment. He glanced at his wife, who was staring at him, perplexed. 

“I don’t want to get into it. I guess that old man isn’t any harm. But you never know. You’re a vulnerable woman and that place is in the middle of nowhere. Don’t think anyone out here is your friend, okay?” 

Suddenly Sofia felt angrier with Armando than she had the entire journey, and the pot had finally boiled over. Her tone grew as stern as she’d ever projected since that rainy day when she called Armando a coward. 

“He was nice person. He’s the first nice Yankee that I’ve met, since those pendejos at the border. Alberto and Claudia’s family do not count, because they understand us. If anything, we are the ones who do not understand that man! And just because your idiot friends say stupid things about black people doesn’t mean you should listen to them! I should know! My mother told me things that made me fear white people. But now I know that was all silly, in spite of the idiots I’ve had to deal with so far! And now, I can say that I have no bad experiences with black people! But I question your morals when you talk about the only kind Yankee that has spoken to me so far!” 

Armando was shocked.  He couldn’t argue with Sofia because she was absolutely right. He knew that she was right. And he knew he was just accepting his friends’ external accounts. He couldn’t deny that his colleagues said a lot of things that his wife wouldn’t appreciate at all, in fact; she’d be quite disgusted by the locker room talk he’d heard in his time on the job. He always knew that it wasn’t right. He loved Sofia and he wanted to be good in Sofia’s eyes. He began to genuinely worry that he wasn’t good enough for her, which was why he had avoided her in the first place. He wanted to protect her from someone like him. But it was too late for all that now. The only way to be the good enough for her was to try his best to be the man he wanted to be. And he truly wanted to be the man Sofia loved. That was enough for him to look past his own ignorant prejudices. 

“Sofia... I’m sorry. You’re right... About everything. You always are. I guess I just don’t know them. I can’t think of any black person that I’ve met or that I know. I don’t want you to hate who I am, Sofia. I want to be a good person for you.” 

“I know you’re a good person, Armando.” She assured him. “That’s why I’m happy that we’re here together. Because there are people who think that we’re bad people. And I want us to show them that we’re good people and that we love everybody. We’re not the only people here that have to deal with hatred because we’re different.” 

Those words sank into Armando’s heart like daggers. He hoped that he would qualify as “a good person”. 

They were only a few minutes away from their new home. The FM radio wasn’t playing at all, although Sofia tried to tune back in to see if she could hear that woman singing again. 

They finally arrived around two in the afternoon on a Sunday at their new home, which was an old, beaten down homestead that badly needed to be fixed up and cared for. It was larger than the little bungalow Alberto and Claudia’s family called home, being two stories tall, but they were deep in the middle of nowhere. The land had changed in Sofia’s eyes, with her now seeing the beauty, not taking this place for granted anymore. But she admitted to herself that it did stretch for miles without variety; dirt, cacti, spoon flowers, and yuccas. In the distance, however, there were mountains standing proudly. She loved the mountains and was instantly curious to visit these mountains whenever she could. But there was a lot of work to be done at their new home first. And a lot of work for Sofia’s personal growth, learning to speak English, as well as understanding U.S. American civics, history, and culture. In 1994, the entire population of Brewster County (a county over three times larger than the state of Delaware) was under 9,000 people. Luckily for Sofia, over 40 percent of the population was Hispanic. The rest were mostly Caucasian.  

Armando had to work about an hour west in Alpine, which Armando jokingly referred to as the “big city”. He had to start the first week of April, giving him the rest of the month to get settled in and work on fixing up the house. The company had paid to furnish the place enough that it was livable, but it needed a lot of sprucing up. Sofia was excited to do her part, and together the young couple worked to forge a new destiny. Armando would sleep most of the day, but before he could get any rest, he encountered a problem. Their pipes were busted when they arrived, so Armando had to do some plumbing. It appeared that the house had been fixed up before the new year and the weather got cold enough to freeze the pipes. No one seemed to have come to maintain the house, but Armando could hardly blame them with it being so far in the wilderness. Yet, now he would have to start working immediately after such a long road trip. Sofia was surprised to learn it would get that cold there during the winter; she never had to deal with freezing pipes down in Tehuacán. Luckily, Armando was quite handy and solved the problem. There was equipment left for him in a utility closet, and he managed to fix the busted pipe. As soon as he was done, he went to bed around three in the afternoon, in their new bedroom upstairs on a stale mattress. The room was hot, but luckily for Armando there was a window, and a fan. After his head hit the pillow, he wouldn’t wake up until early the next morning. 

The land used to be a ranch; it was no good farming, but there was a huge lot where livestock used to be, and an old, ghostly barn out back that looked like it was ready to give up standing. Sofia wanted to put it out of its misery. Part of her wondered if they could ever build the ranch back to its former glory. She wondered if she had it in her to be a rancher in Texas. It seemed like quite a hard life, but she had the land now to do what she wanted with it. Armando would laugh at the thought, telling her that neither one of them had the first clue about ranching. But she would still think about it sometimes. 

The house was large enough for them to raise a family. There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master was on the top floor across from the stairs; a smaller bedroom to the right and a full bathroom to the left with a tub and shower head. At the base of the stairs was the main living area; the front door was just across from the stairwell and to the left of the door was a smaller bathroom without a tub. The left of the stairwell went into the kitchen, and the right went to a dining hall that stretched from the main living area to a back door. There was a spare room near the back door that separated the kitchen from the dining hall, along with a large utility closet under the stairwell.

They had electricity and a television set in their living room for entertainment. Armando got a VCR and would buy movies to show Sofia. The satellite was spotty to say the least, like the FM radio, and it was hard to get anything to come through, so the VCR became the only way they could watch television. He also got a small record player, and he got some albums by American, English, and Aussie rock bands to help with Sofia’s English immersion. That was how he learned to speak English. And it would be a great way for them to pass the time. Armando also made sure to get some movies and records that Sofia and he liked from back home; that way they wouldn’t be so homesick all the time. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to their new way of life in this new world. 

APRIL 1994 

Armando began his weekly work schedule; Monday through Friday, starting his day at five in the morning. Most days, Armando would come back sometime around three or four in the afternoon. But sometimes, he wouldn’t get back home until much later; not until after the sun set, even in the summer, and Sofia would be so lonely and bored at the homestead by herself. She watched many of the new movies Armando got for her to analyze English; Thelma & Louise, Goodfellas, Jurassic Park, Tombstone, and many more. She did not like the horror films at all, like Silence of the Lambs, and especially not Misery. The thought of being trapped inside that house with a maniac was too real at the homestead in the middle of nowhere. When he was home, Armando would help her understand what the characters in these movies were saying, and when he was gone, Sofia would rewatch the films to see if she could remember anything on her own. But these were factitious people experiencing hyperbolic lives. She needed to see the real United States; to personally interact with real people rather than these caricatures. She knew that, eventually, she would need to finally take that big step into real Yankee society. 

The first day would come in late April, when Sofia would visit the town of Marathon all on her own. She wouldn’t tell Armando she planned on doing it. She didn’t think he’d approve of the idea. Her English was still very elementary and her accent was thick. But Sofia knew the way to town, she knew Walter at the gas station, and she knew how to drive now. 

Armando had gotten Sofia a truck at the end of March; a black Dodge Ram. At first glance, Sofia didn’t understand why he chose such a big, steel beast for her, but he assured her it was a good truck and, while they already had the Jetta, the bed could be useful. It was automatic, so she wouldn’t have to worry about learning to drive with the stick-shift and clutch. He knew she needed to drive in case of an emergency, but he made it clear that it was mainly for emergencies only. And even though they still had the Jetta, Armando usually was picked up for work from a colleague named Julio. Sofia thought Julio was funny. He hardly spoke Spanish, but he tried hard for Sofia, which would make her giggle when he said certain words in a funny way. He was like the opposite of her; a Latino with a language barrier, just the other way around. But Sofia could tell that Julio really wanted to learn, and she admired that. Whenever he’d pick up Armando, he’d usually come inside to say hello, while he and Sofia would try to make conversation, teaching one another a word or two in the process. 

The Jetta was lonely those days and Sofia felt sorry for her, but she didn’t know how to drive the manual at all yet. It would have been better on gas mileage too, but over time Sofia grew on the truck. She certainly felt safe in the truck; it had a large cab with comfy seats and it was like a tank on the road.   

To the south, about 40 miles, was Big Bend National Park. Some called it Texas’ gift to the United States, for such beautiful scenery. The Glass Mountains dominated the scenery for miles. Sofia was interested in seeing these wonders for herself, but she wouldn’t dare go by herself. For now, the town of Marathon was a great start. 

Driving into town, heading south from the homestead, Highway 385 turned into Highway 90, as 385 cut south to Big Bend. At that point, there was a stop sign in the center of town. On the north side of the highway sat most of what Marathon had to offer; a complex occupied by a row of businesses stretching from the east to the west, split in half at the main intersection by Avenue D running to the north. Two restaurants sat on each corner of the main intersection. The Gage Hotel, a historic establishment, sat to the left of the restaurant on the west side of Avenue D. The front walkway of the complex on both sides of the avenue was shielded by a shaded breezeway, with rows of carved oak wooden support posts. There were signs around the complex reading things like, “Welcome to Big Bend Country!” and “Last Stop to Big Bend!”. It was something of a tourist spot, but it was still very empty. In season, it got busier, but it was still a long way in the middle of nowhere for most travelers. You could call the area a hidden gem. To the north end of town were a few blocks of residencies, all surrounded by the wide-open desert. 

Sofia parked in front of the row of businesses and got out of the truck to wonder. She seemed nervous about where to park, hoping it was acceptable to leave the truck where she did. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. She just wanted to explore. It was a hot day, as usual, but the open air felt nice, as she stepped under the shading cast by the patio roof above the sidewalk. She strolled along past the stores, not being able to help herself as she gazed at the world around her, rotating around to see everything, like a child in a fantasy world. Then she noticed a woman, a little old Caucasian woman, sitting behind a counter and reading a book in a store called Brewster Boutiques. The woman noticed her too, smiled, and waved. Sofia returned the smile and gesture but was embarrassed, being spotted looking a little foolish in her state of awe. This moment of awkwardness made her avoid going inside, although she wanted to. “Maybe some other time.” She thought. The lady seemed very kind though. 

As she strolled further down the walkway, and after the polite gesture from the stranger, she felt a great sense of positivity in the air around her. The path didn’t stretch far, until there wasn’t much more to see in the commercial district. Properties across the street were scarce, rundown, and most looked abandoned; Sofia thought they may have been ranches once upon a time too, but now they were skeletons of their former homes. “What made everyone go away?” Sofia wondered when observing the weathered, barren land across the street. 

Behind the main strip of businesses there was little more to find in the town. As the town of private homes stretched north, the land inclined along the few rows of crumbling cement streets. Before those private lots, there were a few more whole-in-the-wall shops behind the main thoroughfare complex. Sofia wondered around back there and found a little market with a sign that read, La Tienda Chihuahua, and it raised her curiosity. She decided to stop at the market and look around and get out of the dry Texan heat. 

When she made her way into the market, she felt like she was in Mexico again. There was a little restaurant in the back, where you could place your order and dine in. She could smell the delicious aromas of grilled meats, tortillas, and seasoned rice. The front of the store was like a grocery store with aisles of produce and freezers against the wall. Speakers installed in the ceiling from the front to the back of the store played some traditional mariachi music on a loop, keeping the authentic Mexican vibe consistent. Sofia would wonder if they’d play the song she’d heard, so she could finally find out who that amazing singer was, but it would never play in the store. 

There was a case of assorted bread, just like the ones in shops back home. This was the place that Armando had gotten most of their groceries she’d realized. He’d only traveled to town twice at that point in time, and both times Sofia stayed behind because there was so much work to do on the house. Until that day, Armando had been their courier and representative. The front of the shop had displays with little trinkets in Mexican designs and styles. There was a girl behind the counter, and she appeared to be Latina; she had more indigenous features like Sofia. Behind the girl, the wall had products like lottery tickets, tobacco products, and phone cards to call back to home to Mexico and other Latin countries. Shoppers were all Hispanic and she could hear some Spanish chatter throughout the building. As she walked through the front door, she was so mesmerized that she didn’t notice the young cashier was staring at her in confusion. 

“¿Te puedo ayudar usted, señora?” 

“Can I help you, ma’am?” 

The young girl asked Sofia in a familiar tongue. 

Sofia replied happily in Spanish, “I’m just looking around. I’m new in town and wanted to see what this store was like inside. I didn’t know there would be stores like this up here.” 

“Oh, okay!” The girl replied. 

“¿Y de donde eres?” 

“And where are you from?” 

“My husband and I just moved here from Tehuacán, Puebla. My husband started a new job here, so we had to move. I just don’t know how to get along here yet because I don’t know how to speak English.” 

“Yeah, it’s a barrier for many Latinos here in the states. My mom still has broken English, and she has lived here for almost twenty years.” The girl explained before starting to giggle a little. “Sometimes I still need to help her when she’s talking to someone in English.” 

Sofia laughed with the young girl, who continued with some great advice. 

“But that’s just because she mostly has kept to herself and other Latinos. If you want to learn, try to keep talking to the English-speaking residents. It’s great practice to help you get better. Spanish was my first language in my home, but I learned English through school and community.” 

Sofia pondered that idea. It was a great idea but an intimidating one. Yet, this young girl seemed to not be worried about the town’s people. This was her home and there were other people here like Sofia and her. This made Sofia confident, and she remembered what she had told her mother. She would be respectable to everyone, and she would not be afraid of them. She had every right to be where she was because she was a resident of Brewster County, temporarily or not, and the other residents were just going to have to get used to having Sofia around. 

“Thank you. I really appreciate your advice.” Sofia expressed her gratitude to the girl. Sofia could see that she wasn’t too busy. She never really was, so she had time to chat with a customer or two when they came in. It was just another way to pass the time in Marathon. Sofia decided to formally get to know the girl. 

“Me llamo Sofia. ¿Como te llamas?” “My name is Sofia. What’s your name?”  

Sofia came up to shake the girl's hand. 

The girl shook back. 

“Me llamo Maria.” she introduced herself. 

“Mucho gusto, Sofia.” “It’s a pleasure.” 

“¿Cuantos años tienes?” “How many years do you have?” 

Sofia was curious. 

“Sorry if that’s a strange question. You just seem young.” 

“No that’s not a strange question.” Maria smiled. 

 “Tengo dieciseis años.” “I have sixteen years.” 

Sofia was surprised. 

“¿Dieciseis, si? Wow, tan joven. ¿Y trabajas mucho aqui?” “So young. And you work here often?” 

Maria nodded and explained, “Yeah, I had to leave school to help my mother with the bills, so I work here throughout the week. I don’t make too much, but I’m hoping to save my money and go back to school one day. Maybe I can get my high school diploma and go to college. But it’s all so expensive.” 

Sofia felt remorse for Maria after she told her this. It seemed that the two women had a lot in common. She didn’t ask, but she assumed that the young girl’s father wasn’t in the picture, based off what Maria had said. Either he had passed away or wasn’t man enough to be a father, like Sofia’s father. Either way, it was a shame that this girl had to grow up so quickly. 

“You’re such a polite and respectable young lady. I’m sure your mother is proud of you. I hope that one day you can continue your education. I also had to leave school early to help my mother. I worry about her being alone in Tehuacán. I want to help her and be there for her, but I’m hopeful that we can have better opportunities here, and...” Sofia didn’t know how to finish the sentence, “Well, you know... It’s a struggle, but you must keep on fighting and planning ahead.” 

Sofia had flattered the young girl and caught her interest all the same. “Yes, many people here don’t understand how hard being an immigrant can be. My mom still struggles with it, even though she’s almost been here for half of her life. And thank you for the compliment. You seem like a very nice person. I’m sure you’ll learn English quickly if you practice. I can help you, if you’d like me to.” 

Sofia smiled but shook her head. “Oh, you wouldn’t have to go through any trouble for me. You already have a lot to deal with, without some crazy woman coming in here, regularly bugging you with their broken English.” 

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all!” Maria assured Sofia. “Business is lite and I’m always finding ways to kill the time. I wouldn’t mind helping you if you ever stopped in. I can teach you at least five new words every time you come in. You’d be surprised how fast you’ll learn if you just start with your everyday expressions. I’ve helped others before too. I like doing it.” 

“Well, that would be amazing.” Sofia’s expression was beaming with excitement. “I can’t believe I’ve met someone so nice already. I’ve been so scared of coming here. I almost thought that no one would speak Spanish!” Sofia laughed.

“Oh, you’re pretty much in Mexico still! Brewster County is about half and half with Latinos and white people. Don’t worry. You’re not alone out here. We watch out for one another.” 

Sofia was so happy for the first time in a while. She really felt at home. She wanted to call her mom and tell her about everything, so she purchased a phone card. If only her mother could have come to Texas with her, Sofia had thought. A big piece of her heart was left behind with her mother, who she knew was all alone now. What would her mother think if Sofia told her that, in Texas, you could still live like a Mexican. All her fears faded away when Sofia met Maria. She realized that she could simulate to American society at her own pace. 

Maria taught her a few words as they continued to talk before Sofia went on her way. She told Sofia that she worked every weekday, and that Sofia could come in anytime. Sofia felt that it was almost too good to be true to meet two people in town that were so nice already. She was sure that no one else would be as polite and friendly as Maria was to her. But it piqued her curiosity, so she asked Maria one more question before she left.  

“Do you know the lady in the store... Brewster Boutiques? Is she nice?” 

Maria’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s Margaret. Don’t worry, she’s a little eccentric, but she’s a sweet lady.” 

Sofia wondered what she meant by that, but she decided it was time to find out for herself. Her truck was in front of Margaret’s shop; she would stop in to pay her a visit before she left town for the day. She needed some new clothes anyway, and Armando had given her quite an allowance after his first monthly payment. Sofia had never held U.S. dollars until a month prior and now she was surprised to have more U.S. currency than she’d ever had in Mexican pesos. She hadn’t shopped for herself in so long. She hardly ever had spending money back home. She grew up struggling, and her mother had taught her to be happy with the little things she had. It almost felt a sin to splurge any money on dresses for herself. She’d never got to go shopping; the only dress she ever got to pick out was her wedding dress. Irma wouldn’t let Sofia use hers; she said after her marriages, it would be bad luck. Sofia’s clothes were mostly donated to her by the church during her youth. Sometimes her mom had enough money to get her an outfit, but it was very rare, only a handful of times in her youth had they got that luxury. 

She made her way back to the main complex and saw the same little old woman through the shop window. The woman that Maria called Margaret noticed Sofia again and offered her smile and wave once more. The woman looked to be in her sixties. Sofia wasn’t intimidated by her anymore, so she felt that meeting Margaret would be a good start to her expedition of the culturally unknown. 

She entered the shop, and the old woman introduced Sofia enthusiastically, even in such an unenthusiastic setting. 

“Hello and welcome! Nice to see you finally stop in!” 

Sofia was taken back by the exuberant shopkeeper but realized what Maria meant when she called her odd, yet sweet. She got a little hot with embarrassment, remembering how awkward she felt when she realized the woman was watching her wonder around the front of her shop earlier. But then she realized that Margaret probably understood her more than most, herself being a little awkward in the eyes of locals like Maria. 

Sofia smiled and waved. 

“Hello!” She said in her best English, still feeling so uncomfortable saying such a simple word, as if she’d never said this word before. She practiced saying it in the mirror so often, along with “Hi” and “Hey” and “What’s up?”, trying to sound authentic. Still every time, she felt like a foreigner when she said this simple greeting. 

The older woman had been reading a book behind her counter, “All the Pretty Horses”, but she put it down when Sofia walked in, giving her, her full attention.  

“Is there anything I can help you with, young lady?” 

This was hard for Sofia to understand, but she got the gist of it. She knew what “help” meant, so she assumed the woman was asking if she needed help shopping. She tried to respond, 

“No thank you. I... I just looking.” 

To Sofia’s surprise, the woman began to speak in Spanish. 

“I hope you do not mind me asking, but do you prefer Spanish or English?” 

The woman could see the shock in Sofia’s face; her curious eyes wide. 

The woman laughed. 

“What? You’ve never heard a gringo speak Spanish before?” 

Sofia let out an awkward laugh, not knowing how to react really. She hadn’t met a white American who could speak Spanish before. Of course, many European people lived in Puebla and spoke Spanish, but to meet a white American from the United States who spoke it as well as this lady had, was just as much of a shock to Sofia as seeing Walter, an African American, for the first time. 

“Lo siento,” “I’m sorry,” 

Sofia replied. 

“I haven’t. How did you learn?” 

“Oh, you know. I’ve been around Mexicans all my life.” The woman explained. “I picked up on the language a long time ago. My late husband was a Mexican man, and we have two children, and five beautiful grandchildren.” 

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Sofia gleefully declared. “If you don’t mind me asking, where was your husband from in Mexico?” 

She didn’t respond right away, but rather grinned, as if she knew a special secret. 

“Right here around these parts.” 

Sofia looked confused, so the woman explained. 

“Long ago, this was Mexico. And before that, it belonged to the true peoples of this land, the Chisos, the Mescaleros, the Comanche, and so on... the same family of languages were spoken in this land that were spoken by the native peoples of the Aztec Empire all the way down south in central Mexico. My husband was a Comanche Indian, mixed long before his children and grandchildren were, with the blood of the Spanish, who walked this land centuries before it was claimed by the United States.” 

Sofia was not ignorant to the history of Mexico, but it was as though she needed to be reminded. She knew that Mexico, once upon a time, was much larger, stretching from as far north as the midwestern United States to as far south as Colombia. She told the woman about Irma. 

“My mother always said that we were mostly indigenous on her side; that we all were related to the Indians from Canada to Argentina. She resented those who resented us. Back home it was those of fairer skin, and wealthier backgrounds. She said the wealthy were always of Spanish descent and the Indians were poor. She worried about me being up here around...” 

Sofia just couldn’t finish the sentence, realizing she was speaking to a white Yankee. Her assumptions about the United States began to seem so silly in retrospect. It’s not a place where only white people live, even in these rural areas.  The first resident of Marathon that she had met was an African American man; the second was a Mexican American girl with immigrant parents. And now she had met her first Caucasian American, who not only spoke fluent Spanish, but was married to a Mexican man and had mixed children – children descended from the first peoples of this very land she now stood on. This white woman’s children, and therefore the mother herself, had more of a right to be in Brewster County than Sofia, Armando, Maria, or even Walter for that matter (as if his descendants had a choice). Sofia was in fact learning that the United States is a melting pot of culture. Something most of the world may find as common knowledge, but she had not been so immersed in United States pop culture like many others around the world. She truly was ignorant to the nature of the United States until now. 

“Wow... ¿sabes que?...” 

“You know what? I don’t know what to say...” 

Sofia tried to find the words as she began to sift through some of the dresses hanging to her left, just to do something with her hands.  

“I’ve been so scared for the last month of living here. I thought that I would be hated by the locals; that the people of this country would be racist and antagonistic toward me. And then I’ve met people like you, who have been so welcoming to me. Now, I feel so ignorant; now I feel like maybe I’ve been the racist one all along.” 

The woman’s smile had faded, yet her demeanor said she understood. She replied as she gazed out the window. 

“Don’t be so ashamed of yourself or your mother’s worries. A mother only cares for her children. The whole world can be a deadly place, and mothers only want to be safe rather than sorry. We all go through that sometimes when it comes to things that we don’t understand. Yet, it’s people like you and me who jump up every now and then and get out of our comfort zones. The more people you meet and talk with, the more you will learn that we all laugh, we all cry, and we all want people to like us. We’re all very much the same at heart. But that will never change the fact that some people don’t have a heart. Some people never had one. And it seems they go around looking to steal someone else’s, taking everything away from them, but gaining nothing for themselves. But you can’t worry about people like that. You must not, because if you do, then you can’t live. And that’s a waste of a good heart, if you ask me.” 

Sofia couldn’t believe how well the woman spoke Spanish. She realized that she was getting into the mind of a real white American; her words so profound, that Sofia couldn’t imagine learning to speak that much English, but she found much insight in hearing the woman’s wise thoughts brought to life in the form of such familiarity. She was still a white American through and through, despite her knowledge of Latin American Spanish. And even though Sofia had never met one of these so-called ‘Yankees’, this woman reminded her of her own mother in a way, just a little older. Sofia was getting to know white America for the first time; her prejudice worries flowing away from her mind and heart. She hadn’t known this woman for more than ten minutes and she was already as fond of her as she was Maria or Walter. Although she was an older woman, she was full of spunk and very friendly. She began to wonder how odd it was that the two of them were having such an introspective conversation without making any proper introductions. 

“My name is Sofia.” Sofia spoke out in her best English and stepped closer to the woman, extending her arm out to shake hands. 

She continued in Spanish, “Mucho gusto.” “It’s a pleasure.” 

The woman expressed her regret to make proper introductions. “I’m so sorry, I never did make a proper introduction. My name is...” 

“Margaret!” Sofia was happy to know her name already. “I’m sorry, but Maria already told me your name.” 

Margaret chuckled with a smile, “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Sofia.” 

Sofia smiled back at Margaret as they shook on their formal greeting, and then Margaret asked her, “So, how long have you been in Brewster County?” 

“For a little over a month. This is the first Yankee town I’ve known since Eagle Pass.” 

“Yankee?” Margaret laughed, “Is that what you call towns like ours where you’re from?” 

“Oh, is that incorrect?” Sofia asked sheepishly. 

“Well, I assume many around the world call Americans ‘Yankees’, but in the states, that’s what we call the northerners – and really only the ones out east in New York and New England.” 

That intrigued Sofia. She hadn’t heard many people in Tehuacán refer to U.S. Americans as Yankees, but her mother sure called them that a lot. It caught on in Sofia’s vocabulary when describing those people from ‘the land of the free; the home of the brave’. 

Margaret asked, 

“¿De donde eres?” “Where are you from?” 

“Tehuacán, Puebla.” Sofia shared proudly. “I lived there my entire life until now. We moved here for my husband’s work. He works at an oil distilling factory in Alpine.”

Margaret smiled, “Well, welcome to your new home. Have you met any other residents besides Maria?” 

“My first day in town, I met Walter at the gas station, and he’s very friendly, but that’s it.” 

“Oh Walter, he’s such a good man. He’s been here almost as long as about anyone. I’ll tell you a little history about him, if you’re interested.”  

Sofia smiled. 

“Si claro.” “Of course.” 

“Walter’s father moved his family here back in 1935 from Meridian, Mississippi, during the Great Depression, trying to get to California. His father ended up stopping here because of Big Bend. Walter was only four years old at the time. His father believed there was something special about this place and he found the beauty in it. It helped to find a good boss at the station, Mr. John Buell. Mr. Buell, who never had a family of his own, cared a lot about the family all the way until he died in ‘71, when he gave the business to Walter Sr. Walter took over the station in ‘78 when his father retired, and he’s been running it since. No one has ever caused the family any trouble. Mr. Buell was respected, so people respected his choice to give the station to Walter’s family.” 

Sofia was interested in the story, and still equally intrigued by Margaret’s fluent Spanish. It was also interesting to notice a few different ways that Margaret said certain words. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was a Caucasian speaker, or a northern Mexican speaker. 

Margaret continued. “You’re lucky to have met two nice people like Maria and Walter. Like any other place, not everyone here is so kind, but most of them are. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world; good friends are hard to come by. Maria and Walter are friends of the world. They care about other people.”  

With these words, Sofia knew that one could say the same about Margaret. And Sofia realized she had made another friend. Sofia had been so captivated with her conversation, that she didn’t realize how long she’d been there talking with Margaret. They had been talking for almost thirty minutes. All of Sofia’s anxiety had now vanished, and so did those ill feelings toward white Americans thanks to people like Walter, Maria, and Margaret. 

Sofia smiled. “I think you’re one of the good people too, Margaret.” 

Margaret shooed at Sofia with her hand. “I’d like to think so, dear. Well, you’ve heard this old woman talk and talk. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Oh, no it’s okay, it’s been nice talking to you. But yes, I was thinking about getting a new dress.” 

Margaret looked at Sofia thoughtfully, and her eyes began to glow with an idea. “You know, I just may have something special I’ve been saving for someone like you, if you don’t mind?” Sofia didn’t object, so Margaret continued to the back. “One moment.” 

Margaret went to the back of the store, around a corner to fetch something. After a few seconds, she was back with something wrapped in clear plastic. The woman eased the garment out of the packaging and displayed it for Sofia to observe. It was a traditional Native American buckskin dress, fringed at the sleeves and bottom, with decorative blue embroidery work and beads stitched across the shoulders and chest. A leather belt completed the dress with silver ornamental plates across it. 

“This is a traditional Camanche dress. I want to give it to you as a welcoming gift.”  

Sofia was stunned at first, before shaking her head, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, I can pay you.” 

“No worries, dear. I wouldn’t feel right selling this anyway. Take it as a gesture of goodwill from the land, that you are welcome here and this is your home now.” 

Sofia didn’t know what to say. Margaret handed her the dress and Sofia looked over it with genuine affection. She hugged Margaret, and the hug was returned by the kind woman, who she barely knew. Sofia tried to thank her, but Margaret told her thanks were not necessary and said something familiar, “Mi casa es su casa”. Sofia did not believe in coincidence anymore; she believed now that she was on the path of her destiny. 

The two women said their goodbyes for the time being, and Sofia had promised she would be back to buy something soon, in return for the gift that made her feel a part of the land. Texas had been welcoming to her since she met Claudia and her family. Sofia was grateful to be so blessed with the surroundings of such hospitable people. Although the dress was of a tribe that Sofia was not part of, she was distant relatives of these people, according to her mother, so she was proud to accept the ownership to preserve this piece of the local culture. 

When she went back into the truck and started the engine, she decided to turn on the FM radio, to see if she’d get a good signal, while in Marathon. She was surprised to hear a DJ speaking clearly in Spanish. Just in time when she tuned in, the DJ said:

“Here she is, ¡la reina! ¡Selena y Los Dinos!” 

And there she was. The woman she’d been waiting to hear. 

Her name was Selena. 

MARCH 19th, 1995 

SOMEWHERE OFF HIGHWAY 90 IN BREWSTER COUNTY, TEXAS 

Samantha was utterly bored and suffering from the intense heat as she sat in the back of Henry’s station wagon on the side of a lonely dirt road off the highway, where they were broken down. She was trying to escape the exposure of the sun, but it felt like an oven inside of the vehicle. She feared she would cook slowly inside of this death box. Henry was Blakely’s boyfriend. Blakely was Samantha’s older sister. Samantha was fed up with the constant bickering between the two of them; they fought a lot back home in Knoxville, but they were insufferable on their road trip to see the west coast in San Diego. A few months back, Henry pitched the idea to take the road trip. Samantha was 17 years old, still in high school, and on spring break, so her parents let her go with her big sister and Henry, a twenty-three-year-old “slacker” as Blakely’s father referred to him. 

The young group wanted to get away for a little bit; Blakely convinced Henry and her parents to let Samantha come along. She wanted her sister to share the opportunity, and she wanted to be there for her. She could tell that her little sister was troubled, a lot like her. They grew up on the rougher side of the Fountain City community in Knoxville; all from the same apartment complex – a property notoriously resented by anyone who had come across it. 

Henry wasn’t exactly excited about bringing the kid along. He was hoping that this trip would be a good opportunity for Blakely and him to have some time alone. The relationship was going sour; never-ending fighting between the two hot-headed products of neglected Appalachia. He figured that maybe some time on the road together would be good for them and maybe it would enlighten them and relax them. He’d only recently bought the 1982 Ford LTD, and he didn’t know much about cars, except enough to pass his driver's test. Yet, he didn’t anticipate the stress of traveling, especially through the intense heat of the desert. He hadn’t paid any attention to the heat gauge, or the oil, or anything important for that matter. Henry figured he’d make it to San Diego faster than the Bandit made it from Texarkana to Atlanta with Smokey on his tail, but instead he threw a rod. He didn’t even know what he’d done. He thought the Ford was just overheating. Instead, he’d totaled their vehicle. And not on the side of a main artery, but rather a tiny nerve ending within the Outback of Texas. Until now, this journey had just intensified Henry and Blakely’s aggression toward one another in their relationship. But now, Blakely was wondering if her boyfriend had gotten her and her little sister killed. They didn’t have any supplies; they were on a dirt path in the middle of nowhere, and the environment was unforgiving. They had

joked several times that the dry heat of southwest Texas couldn’t compare to muggy Tennessee, but now they were begging the desert for mercy. 

Blakely and Samantha always wanted to see the west coast. If Blakely was being honest with herself, she’d admit that she’d wanted to break up with Henry for months now. She’d also admit that she thought the trip was fruitless, but she was taking advantage of the opportunity, at least for her little sister’s sake. Henry had some family living conveniently close to Ocean Beach that was happy to host the three young vacationers. So, Blakely decided to go, marking something off her and Samantha’s bucket list. 

But now they might as well have been on an island in the Pacific. They were trapped like a fly in a jar. It was easy to get in, but getting out was starting to seem impossible. They took what Henry called a “short-cut” down a sketchy dirt road that wasn’t even on the map. That’s when the Ford broke down. It was around 90 degrees Fahrenheit out and the wind was only intensifying the heat, like fanning a flame. It didn’t feel like a day in March, but rather a day in midsummer as the sun beat down relentlessly on the cabin. They hid inside with the windows down and the doors open, but it was unbearable. They had barely any water left, and Blakely worried for the worst, not trying to let on to the fact to Samantha. In fact, her sister was still quite confident and spunky; sure of herself that they’d all be fine, but irritated, nonetheless. Surely God wouldn’t let these poor kids die like this and some guardian angel would come save them before it was too late. 

Henry was trying to figure out what was wrong, as he checked under the hood, but he had no idea what he was doing. Blakely was lecturing him. 

“What a fucking idiot! Can you not fucking make sure this wagon is ready for a long-distance trip? My dad told you over and over again, you dumb shit!” 

He slammed his hands on the wagon. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth and leave me alone, while I try to figure this out God dammit!” 

“You can’t figure shit out you dumb mother fucker, cause you don’t know what in the hell you’re even doin’!” Blakely began to stomp back to the back of the vehicle, but noticed her sister wasn’t inside when she checked. 

“Sam? Where the fuck are you?” 

Blakely looked at the back of the wagon and saw Samantha standing, looking in the distance. The older sister walked over to her to check on her. 

“I know this looks bad, but one way or another we’ll find a way out. I’m thinking we ditch this motherfucker and start walking. It’s better than sitting here, waiting to die.”

Samantha didn’t answer, seeming distracted by something. 

“What do you think, Sam?” 

Then Blakely looked where Samantha was looking. 

“You see that?” Samantha spoke up and then smiled. “Oh look, sis! It’s somebody! Maybe they’ll help us!” 

Blakely focused and noticed what Samantha was talking about. 

It was a pickup truck; a 1990 navy-blue Ford F150 to be exact. 

“Thank God, we’re saved! It’s our guardian angel!” Samantha was waving her arms and jumping, shouting like a cheerleader. “Look, Blakely, that’s a nice truck. They gotta be some rich ranchers or something!” 

As the truck came closer, Blakely began to get a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

The truck crept up behind the wagon and parked; two men with cowboy hats got out. They were both about as tall as one another, with one being a little leaner than his friend. Until now, Samantha wondered if she was going to die of a heat stroke in this desert, listening to her sister arguing with her boyfriend until the end. 

The two men looked friendly enough and were all smiles. Samantha thought the leaner man was attractive; he came from the driver’s seat and tipped his hat to the girls. 

“Having some car troubles, ladies?” 

Blakely kept her guard up. She didn’t like the look of these two men. On the surface they seemed friendly, but they looked too friendly. Almost as if they were delighted to find these two girls trapped in the desert. 

“Well, we sure ain’t hanging out for’a tan.” She said in her thick accent. It was southern like the two men, but with a different Appalachian twang. “Yeah. I guess you could say we’re having car troubles.” 

The man’s grin never faded. “Well, excuse me, ma’am. If you’d like some assistance, my brother, Zeke, here can help your man out, while I entertain you folks. If we can’t figure it out, we can give you all a ride down the road to the nearest payphone.” 

Henry was now standing next to the girls and spoke up.  “Look, fellas, we should be fine. I’m gonna get it all fixed up and get us on the road soon.”

Blakely couldn’t help but admit that was a lie. And even though these men made her uncomfortable, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice but to trust them now. “Henry, you don’t know shit about what you’re doing...” 

This proceeded with the couple beginning to argue and holler over one another, until Zeke spoke up. 

“Hey, calm down you crazy kids! No worries here, okay? Look, um...” 

Zeke pointed at Henry, trying to get his name, so Henry told him. 

“Henry... You ain’t gotta be all prideful. You’ve got two pretty ladies here trapped in this dangerous heat. We don’t mind helpin’ one bit to keep you from dryin’ out like roadkill.” 

At this point Zeke had strolled over to the three young individuals and began to pat Henry on the back. Although the man didn’t do it aggressively, Henry could feel how strong the man was. He began to feel sick to his stomach, having the same intuition as Blakely. He looked over at her and she looked back. Her eyes weren’t so angry at him anymore; they were on the same page. They were worried to death. Henry just looked at Zeke, not knowing what to say, so Zeke tried to comfort him some more. 

“It’s okay, partner. You’re in good hands.” He raised his right hand in oath with a grin. “Scout’s honor.” 

Henry reluctantly nodded and accepted the help. “Okay... Well, I guess you could take a look and see what’s going on with the engine. I do admit that I’m pretty confused.” 

Henry and Zeke walked to the front of the station wagon, where the hood was still propped open. Zeke began to observe while his brother, Cody, leaned against the back of the wagon and crossed his arms, checking out Samantha, who was checking him out in return. 

“My, my. Ain’t you a pretty flower among the thorns. What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“Samantha.” She blushed and smiled, inching a little closer to the man. “What’s yours?” 

“I’m Cody Domermuth, darlin.” He grabbed her by the hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Samantha had never been so charmed in her life, and she was captivated by the man. 

“Well, ain’t you the charmer. You ever come through Tennessee?” 

“Sam!” Blakely raised her voice. “Shut the fuck up and get back in the wagon!” 

Blakely would die before anyone ever hurt her little sister. But her sister liked to go for the cheese in the trap all too often. Blakely began to feel a real terror in her heart, that maybe she would have to fight for their lives today.

“Now, now. No need to get all upset, darlin’.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ call me, darlin’, okay? I don’t know you and you’re talkin’ to a seventeen-year-old girl, who’s still in high school, so why don’t you save your sweet-talk for someone closer to your own age?” 

“Well, how about you, beautiful?” His grin sent chills down her spine. 

Henry looked up when he heard Cody say this to her, but Zeke distracted him. 

“Look, there you go, bud. There’s your problem, see?” 

Henry looked back at the engine. “No, what do you mean?” 

Meanwhile, Blakely was getting hotter. “Stop callin’ me your fuckin’ pet names, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!” 

Right as she shouted that at Cody, Zeke unhinged the station wagon’s hood and began to repeatedly smash it down on Henry’s head. Henry couldn’t escape or stop the man and was soon unconscious as Zeke relentlessly continued to crush his head between the hood and the steel engine. Samantha’s expression was now filled with horror, as she began to scream bloody murder. 

“Stop it!” She cried. “What the hell are you doing?! Please stop it!” 

“Shut your pretty little mouth!” Cody grabbed the young girl and covered her mouth with his hand. She began to jerk around trying to escape and Blakely ran for the cabin. She grabbed a large Bowie knife and began to slash and stab at the man. 

“Let her go now!” 

Blakely was like a wild animal lunging at Cody with the blade and he let go of Samantha, trying to avoid getting slashed and stabbed. 

“Damn, look at you, baby! Come on! Give me your best shot!” 

He was laughing as Blakely tried to get him, but he kept backing away and dodging her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but her eyes were burning with fury. 

“Blakely, look out!” Samantha shrieked. 

But it was too late; Zeke had come up behind her and smacked her in the back of the head with a combination wrench. Blakely fell to the ground face-first, and blood began to gush from her head onto the hot, dusty ground. Samantha didn’t know what else to do except run away down the long dirt road. 

She took off as fast as she could, but there was no end in sight. She could hear their laughter gaining on her. 

“Where do you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?!” 

Hearing Cody’s voice getting closer made her begin screaming for her life, continuing to run faster than she ever had. 

“Help me! For the love of God, somebody please help me!” 

Then Cody caught up to her and snatched her by the hair on the back of her head. 

She shouted in pure terror, but nobody could hear her. 

Cody dragged the screaming, sobbing girl back to the station wagon. 

No guardian angels came to save her. But two demons came to claim her.

Sofia was checking herself out in the mirror. She couldn’t believe how big a belly could get to hold a little human. She was captivated by the evidence that she was carrying a baby in her own body. Soon the child would be running around the house, full of life and happiness. She was sure that the child would have a happy life. Tlamatini said the child must be born. She told Armando about the dream many times, to which Armando seemed dismissive. He didn’t dislike the idea of good faith in their child’s health, but he wasn’t a very supernatural type of person. And that’s what it sounded like Sofia was insinuating; as if she’d really spoken to that old man in her dreams. But he let her go on about it for months now; just happy to see her happy. For a few months after they first arrived, it seemed like Sofia was quite tense and distant with Armando, but they grew out of their disagreements and found the love again that had brought them together. They were both young; ready to prove to the world that they could do this. No one said this move would be easy, and they sure didn’t say marriage would be easy either. But Sofia did wish that Armando would not be such a cynic. 

She still dreamed about Tlamatini and his bird Yolotli sometimes. She didn’t understand how the dreams could be so vivid and how they offered such good advice. She learned things from the wise man in her dreams. Whenever she doubted herself, the dreams would help her see the light through the wisdom in Tlamatini’s words. She felt like the man truly was watching out for her, or more specifically, the child that “must be born”. Sofia didn’t know what that meant exactly, but she told herself that her baby must be important in some way. Maybe the baby would grow up to be a doctor or go on to make important discoveries. She wasn’t sure exactly why the baby needed to be born supposedly, other than the fact that it was her baby, and she wanted the best for her child. 

Over the past year, a lot of things had changed. One, of course, was that Sofia was now pregnant, but she had also learned a lot of English since she arrived to Texas. She was a fast learner, as it turned out, and the more she learned, the quicker she did as well. There were times that Armando could take a break from work, and they would get to do things around Texas and even back home. 

They flew down to Tehuacán once, for a week to visit the families. That was a breath of fresh air for Sofia especially, but going back home was heartbreaking. The only thing that made their trip home better was knowing they wouldn’t be traveling in the Jetta across Mexico again or dealing with those agents in Eagle Pass. 

Tlamatini was correct about Popo. He awoke the previous December, erupting and releasing gases and ashes into the air that caused many residents to evacuate the city of Puebla. This made Sofia believe his prophecies even more.

One week in September, right before Sofia learned she was pregnant, the couple took a hike through Big Bend National Park. Sofia had longed to see the park and truly get to know the nature of Texas. It was awe inspiring, to Sofia’s surprise. The history of the land was extraordinarily intriguing; a land once buried under the sea with dinosaurs swimming and roaming those parts for centuries. It was a goldmine for fossils and perfect evidence of the history of the land and its environment. The hike was arduous, but amazing. They went into the Chisos Mountains to climb Emory Peak. Not many people visited Big Bend back then; some people in Marathon questioned Sofia for wanting to visit the park. In September, practically no one was on the peak when they made it to the top around ten in the morning. They felt good about themselves after their climb. Sofia remembered the hike in Puebla when she almost fainted. It was a lot like their road trip across Mexico in the fact that Sofia made sure to be prepared on the journey so that wouldn’t happen again. 

The air was still cool at that moment. It would get hot soon, but they would be climbing down, instead of up. They looked off into the land that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was magnificent; the monsoon season turned a lot of the land green, giving it life. She could barely see the Rio Grande. Mexico was in her view and it filled her heart with passion; Armando felt it too. They found a place of privacy, even though there wasn’t anyone else around, and they made love to one another a blanket they brought for a picnic. Little Mexican Jays were singing in the distance and the wind whirled and whistled around them. Sofia always told Armando that she knew they conceived their child on Emory Peak. 

Sofia would visit town on Mondays usually when Armando was back at work. She wondered if he was right about her going out alone, but she felt that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She had about two more months until she was due now, and she figured she’d make her weekly visits until one month out. She wouldn’t tell Armando though, but only because she didn’t want him to worry. She would phone Maria and tell her that she was walking out the door. The young girl didn’t mind watching the time after the phone calls. If Sofia took too long, she’d have someone go check on her. The unforgivable heat was returning as the year crept closer to the Chihuahuan summers that Southwest Texas has always been famous for. It simply wasn’t safe for a pregnant woman to be stuck out in the heat. But Sofia was cautious and stubborn, so she managed to find her time to escape the house. 

One day, as she arrived in town at the market to meet Maria, she noticed something that she hadn’t noticed before, hanging in the window. It was a poster with three black and white pictures of three different young faces: two women and one man. 

Above the photos, printed out in large font:

MISSING! LAST SEEN IN ALPINE ON MARCH 19TH, 1995 DRIVING A TAN ‘82 FORD LTD STATION WAGON LEFT KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE HEADING FOR SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 

Below each black and white photograph were their names and descriptions: 

BLAKELY JOHNSON — 21 YEARS OLD — CAUCASIAN FEMALE — 5’’7, 130 LBS, LIGHT BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES  

SAMANTHA JOHNSON — 17 YEARS OLD — CAUCASIAN FEMALE — 5’’6, 120 LBS, DIRTY BLONDE HAIR, HAZEL EYES  

HENRY NEWMAN — 23 YEARS OLD — CAUCASIAN MALE — 5’’9, 160 LBS, DARK BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES 

Sofia’s English had improved significantly throughout her first year in Big Bend Country. She was able to read every word. And the poster frightened her to her core. She analyzed the black and white photographs. They gave her a strange feeling, seeing the faces of those young people distorted through the grainy printed pictures and their names in bold with the word “MISSING”. She felt a strong sensation that they weren’t okay. She noticed that Henry was listed as a potential suspect, but there was no trace of him as well. The two girls were obviously sisters. The poster stated that Blakely, the older sister, was dating Henry. Yet, it was a mystery at that time as to where they all were or if they were even in danger. 

IF YOU HAVE SEEN THESE THREE OR HAVE ANY INFORMATION, CALL 911 EMERGENCY SERVICES IMMEDIATELY. 

Sofia looked at the photograph of the girl named Samantha. She was so young. Just a kid at 17 years old. It made Sofia think about the child that she was going to have and how frightened she would be if her baby went missing. She said a prayer before the poster, hoping that God would have mercy on the three young souls. She made a cross with her hands in her Catholic faith, and then she sent a thought to Yolotli, hoping that the eyes of the sky would find them in good health. She even prayed for Henry, hoping that he wasn’t behind anything bad and that they were somewhere safe and just forgot to call. Perhaps they were just in Big Bend. Maybe even lost. That would be better than what was insinuated. Hopefully, they were just lost hikers, and a rescue team was going to find them soon. 

Sofia went inside the shop, and Maria was happy to see her. 

“Hey you! It feels like I haven’t seen you in a long time!” The friends were now speaking English together. There were times that Sofia’s English was still thick or broken, and still many words she didn’t understand, so at times she’d speak Spanglish. 

“Yeah, I feel like I’m about to pop! I need to sit down. I’m feeling a little woozy. I’ll order something, if you want to go ahead and get some lunch.” 

“Sure, Sofia.” Maria looked worried. “Go ahead and rest up and I’ll be back there.” 

Maria finished up counting her cash drawer before her break. She placed a small sign on the counter that read out in both Spanish and English: “Back in 30 minutes.” 

As the two sat with their lunches, Maria noticed that Sofia seemed perplexed. Sofia apologized for having a moment, when she noticed she was being awkward, saying she didn’t know what came over her. 

“You need to be careful. Maybe you need to take a break already. I know you were waiting until one month before the due date, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” 

Sofia seemed distracted by her thoughts, as she only responded with, “Did you see the missing person flyers outside?” 

Maria was caught off guard by this, but when she collected her thoughts, she remembered. 

“Yes. They’ve been there for about a week now. But you don’t come to town much anymore, so I guess you haven’t seen them yet. Yeah, that’s scary stuff. I hope they’re okay.” 

Maria took a bite, as Sofia just pondered. Maria continued after her bite. 

“People are saying that they’re probably somewhere here in Brewster County or nearby. They’re saying that they’re probably dead and that the man, Henry, killed them.” 

Sofia continued to seem distressed and Maria began to consider that maybe it wasn’t the best table conversation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be morbid, but you did bring it up, Sofia,” the girl giggled. 

Sofia thought about how young she was. Maria was the same age as the girl, Samantha. 

“Excuse me!” 

Sofia jumped up. She couldn’t handle it. She began to grow dizzy, worried about fainting, but she managed to reach the restroom, where she threw up.  

After cleaning herself up and returning to the table, she apologized again. 

“I promise I didn’t miss by the way, so there’s nothing to clean up.” 

She looked pale and Maria was really worried now. 

“Sofia, did you throw up? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes... I’m fine... it just happens sometimes. The morning sickness, I guess.” 

This was a lie. Sofia had thrown up several times during the pregnancy, but this time it was because of the kids. For some reason, her pain for them was too real. It was overwhelming. 

Sofia stood up. 

“Maria... if it’s okay, I think I need to get back home.” 

“Well, of course it’s okay, Sofia, but do you need a car ride? I don’t think you should be driving.” 

“It’s okay. I promise. I’ll call you when I get home.” Sofia began to walk to the door. 

“Wait, Sofia... you hardly touched your food.” 

Sofia stopped at the door. Then she felt rude, so she walked back to Maria, reaching for some money in her handbag. She handed her a hundred.  

“You’re right... You can have it if you want. I don’t think I took a bite.” 

Sofia began to walk back, but Maria was shocked at the bill. 

“Sofia this is one hundred dollars.” 

Sofia was modest and this embarrassed her. 

“Yeah... it’s all I have right now. Armando has been bringing a lot home lately. Pay for the food and give everyone a good tip. Armando would like that.”  

Sofia opened the door, but Maria stopped her one more time. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a car ride?” 

Sofia thought about it but then shook her head.

“I’ll call you in thirty minutes. Thank you, Maria.” 

And then she made her way out. 

Sofia was planning on visiting Margaret before she left, but she just couldn’t after that episode. She was starting to get tired, and her feet ached and swelled. She wanted to see her friend, whom she’d seen a lot less lately. Now she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she saw her again. This episode might be the warning she needed to go ahead and take that break like Maria said. She needed to get home, but Sofia hated being trapped alone at the homestead.  

She would at least see Walter one last time, as she needed to top off the truck. She stopped at the station on her way home. As she walked in the station, she noticed the same posters in his window. There were the three faces of the missing people, and she couldn’t help but stop again and wonder about it. She examined their faces, and she grew more concerned about their safety, as if she knew them personally. She noticed that Walter noticed her looking at the poster, and she felt a little embarrassed. 

She stepped inside and tried to avoid the topic. 

“Hey Walter! How’s it going today?” 

“It’s goin’, Sofia. How’s Armando? And how’s the baby?”  

“Good! Armando is just always working. We’re expecting to meet her in one month.” 

“Well,” Walter started with a smile, “I sure can’t wait to meet her. You’ll be an excellent mother. I didn’t know you found out she was a girl. What’s her name?” 

“Well, we never really found out, so we haven’t named her yet. I just know she’s a girl. I know Armando wants a boy, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. But we’ll be happy either way.” 

“Good, good!” Walter shook his head. “So, what’s it going to be today Señora Trujillo?” 

Sofia was embarrassed to pull the bill out, but she was genuine when she told Maria these bills were all she had. 

“Can you... split this money? I will fill up the tank. It’s pretty empty.” 

“Whew, Sofia. That’s a large one, but for you I’ll do it. Just don’t go telling folks that I break hundred dollar bills, okay?” 

Sofia smiled. “Okay.”

Walter winked and cashed her out. As he gave her change, he warned her. 

“You take care of yourself getting down the road, Sofia. Don’t get yourself stuck on that path with that baby. It’s going to be getting real hot again soon.” 

Sofia rolled her eyes with a grin. “I know, I know. Everybody is always telling me. Actually, this may be my last gas stop until she comes.” 

“Well, I hate to not see you much, friend, but it’s probably for the best. You just be sure to come introduce the baby to me when she comes, okay?” 

“Of course. Talk to you soon, Walter.” 

“Talk to you soon, Sofia.” 

As she walked out, she waved one final time through the windows to Walter, who waved back. When she began to pump the gas, she could smell the fumes as they rose to her face. She wondered if maybe that wasn’t exactly good for her or the baby, but she seemed to like the smell of it for some reason.  

Nights like this night were the worst for Sofia; whenever Armando wouldn’t return from work until after the sun went down. She didn’t understand why they kept him so late sometimes. But they were making good money, unlike anything Sofia had ever seen. She had been wiring money to her mother, who was no longer working at the factory anymore. Sofia begged her mother to come visit her, and now Irma was scheduled to fly in at the end of May, just in time to meet the baby. 

Sure, things were better financially, but it would be so lonesome, and it even gave her the creeps at times. It was so dark outside. The only lights around for miles came from their homestead. The sky was beautiful at night, but there were wild cats, venomous snakes, and anything else lurking in the darkness, as well as Sofia’s frightened imagination, every time she thought about these creatures. Coyotes would howl in the night, and sometimes she could hear the pack on the property, just wandering around outside her door, ready to gang up on any unfortunate prey they could trap. Sometimes it felt like the coyotes were hunting for her; they came around so often. She wondered if it was normal for the creatures to visit the property so much, hanging around like it was the hottest spot in town on a Saturday night. 

The inside wasn’t much better. The wind made the house creak, and it sounded like someone was walking in the attic, but Sofia told her it was her imagination. It was hard to enjoy a movie or a record when she was pausing the music or movie to listen closely to the noises surrounding her.

A few weeks prior, terrible news hit the radio waves. Selena Quintanilla had been shot to death by a former business partner and friend that she trusted. This news devastated Sofia. Selena was a voice that had made the United States feel like home. Selena was a powerful inspiration, giving Sofia the confidence to have a voice in a place that couldn’t understand her. The thought that someone like Selena... La Reina herself could be gunned down for no good reason.  

This was part of her morbid reality; an infectious tumor-like sickness growing inside her mind that was intensified by the death of the Knoxville kids. 

Southwest Texas could be a terrifying place. Tehuacán had always been fairly safe, even in their poor community. But up north, it didn’t matter which side of the border you were on; this was border land. The local news had regular stories about mayhem on the border with lots of rhetoric about illegal immigrants and even immigrants themselves, like Sofia, being potentially dangerous. Sofia was happy to stick with the movies and music Armando had gotten her. And she would still listen to Selena all the time, especially her latest English album. But her heart was broken every time she heard her voice, and the pregnancy didn’t help these chaotic emotions. 

She wondered when Armando would finally be home. She was even growing frustrated, cussing to herself about him. 

“Why does he need to be working so late anyway?” She said to herself, pacing around the living room, constantly checking the window to see if Julio’s headlights were coming down the driveway. 

“I don’t care how much money he makes. He had a lonely, pregnant wife here. What kind of bosses make their husband leave his wife alone like this all day long?” 

Most days, he returned in the afternoon. But his hours could be quite sporadic at times. And she hated it. 

Then she turned on herself. 

“What’s wrong with me anyway? Am I a scared as a little girl? I’ll be a mother soon, dammit. It’s time to grow up.” 

She wished she could get over her fears. Sometimes they were quite elementary. She wondered at times if the coyotes would turn into a group of scary men, coming for her. She knew that there was a shotgun upstairs in a compartment under their bed. The gun used to be on the wall, but after Sofia became pregnant, she worried about the gun being around the child. So, Armando fashioned up some hooks under the bed that would hold the gun, keeping it completely concealed. On some nights, when she was absolutely terrified of being alone, she would turn off the television and go up in the bedroom to wait for him. 

This became one of those nights. 

She wished that they had a dog. If they did, then she wouldn’t feel so alone nor scared. She begged Armando for a dog, but he convinced her that it might be better to wait until after the baby, so they could train the dog to be careful. She had regretted agreeing at this point. She loved animals and always wanted a dog, but Irma said they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. As always, someone in the house had an excuse as to why she couldn’t have something she wanted. For now, all she had was the pump shotgun lying under her bed. That made her feel a little safer, at least. She laid up in bed for a little bit, until she drifted off to sleep from the boredom. 

She woke up to screaming. It was the sound of a young woman outside, screaming for her life. Sofia didn’t hesitate to grab the gun from under the bed, but after that she slowly approached the window to look outside. She couldn’t see anyone though. She didn’t want to, but she felt that she needed to go downstairs and check outside. She couldn’t leave this person in trouble, even if she was pregnant. She went downstairs and all the lights were out. She found that odd, as she left the main living room light on, which shined through most of the front of the house. She slowly inched down the stairs, trying not to miss any steps in the darkness, keeping the gun held up. 

“Armando! Are you in here!” 

No answer. 

Sofia walked over to check the lights, but they wouldn’t work. She tried the phone; it wouldn’t work either. She began to make her way to the back door, as she heard the screaming coming from the back of the house. 

Then the woman screamed again, and this time she shouted words. 

“Help me! For the love of God, somebody please help me!” 

Sofia stopped in her tracks, mortified and petrified in place. But then she proceeded to the utility closet to grab a flashlight and tape. She taped the light to the gun and turned it on. Then she continued toward the door and began to speak aloud, repeating these words: 

“Aunque ande en valle de sombra de muerte, no temeré mal alguno.” 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” 

Every time she said these words her heart pounded faster, and her feet moved quicker too. She pursued the door like a warrior until she was barging out without a second thought, calling for the voice. 

“Where are you!?” 

She heard the voice scream from inside the barn out back. Sofia was terrified of that barn since the day they moved in, but she didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t going to be trapped in her house, and she wasn’t going to let some other woman be trapped in her barn. She made her way across the land, when she made a startling discovery; the ground was covered in rattlesnakes, all shaking their tails, with their deadly warning. It was too late to make a move to safety. She was surrounded by the creatures at all sides. She continued to repeat those words. 

“Aunque ande en valle de sombra de muerte, no temeré mal alguno.” 

She walked extremely slow, trying to not walk too close to one of the snakes, who all kept their distance enough that she could walk through the maze toward the barn. While this was happening she could hear what sounded like a scuffle happening inside the barn. She could hear the woman, who was obviously in distress, fighting for her life to escape the fight. 

Then suddenly, the snakes slithered away to Sofia’s relief. But the relief was short lived, as she began to hear another unpleasant sound growing from the silence. The growling of what sounded like dogs; glowing eyes appeared from the darkness, all facing Sofia. She aimed the gun at them and could see the group of feral coyotes between her and the homestead; their eyes glowing with hostility and their teeth and tongues dripping with hunger. They lunged for Sofia who darted off to the barn as fast as she could. She beat them to the inside and slammed the door shut, and suddenly everything went silent; the outside and the inside. 

She quickly aimed the gun all around. 

“Okay, I’m not kidding around.” Her voice was shaking. “Who the fuck is in here and what’s going on?” 

Then the light caught a girl’s face. She knew this girl. It was Samantha; the girl from the poster she had seen that day. 

Sofia continued to hold the gun up, but only to see her. The girl was standing straight with her hands at her side, facing Sofia, but there was something terrifyingly uncanny about the girl. Although she appeared alive, her eyes did not. Not like she was merely blind, but as if there was no life at all behind her eyes. 

“What’s going on? Is this real?” Sofia began to cry. 

Then the girl whispered, “Don’t let them get away, Sofia.” 

That’s when Sofia woke up in a cold sweat in her room; the lights were still on. 

Around nine at night, Julio pulled in the driveway to drop Armando off. Even from down at the beginning of the driveway, Julio noticed Sofia on the porch.  

“Hey man.” Julio laughed. “I told you this was a late one. Looks like you’re in the doghouse, hermano.” 

Armando didn’t laugh along with his colleague, as he believed that fact to be true. 

“Hey man, cheer up. It’s good to have somebody wait up for you like that.” 

Julio continued to chuckle as he parked the car, to which Armando just looked at him seriously. 

“Is it?” Armando asked. 

Julio’s smile faded, then he shrugged. 

“What’s up, man?” 

“It’s nothing, hermano. I care about her. But having a lot to lose can be a burden.” 

Armando began to get up out of the car, saying nothing more. Julio thought about it for a moment as Armando walked to his wife. He watched them, thinking that he’d always looked at Armando as the lucky one. But now he was wondering if Armando might be right. He turned the car around and drove off, down the long dirt driveway to Highway 385. Julio lived in the town of Marathon, so taking Armando home added two hours to his commute every day. 

Armando walked up the stairs, taking a look at his wife, who was dressed up enough to protect herself from the elements. She was wearing her blue maternity dress, along with a pair of tall boots to protect her from the snakes. She had the front door open, and inside the record was playing some Selena, which was no surprise to Armando, who also couldn’t help but have a soft spot in his heart for the singer who was tragically murdered for no good reason. 

She topped off the look with a cowgirl hat on her head, which Armando couldn’t help but chuckle at. 

“Well, look at you, hermosa. Why are you hanging out on the porch?” 

Then he noticed the shotgun, leaned against the wall next to his wife. 

His face filled with concern. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

“Oh, everything’s fine.” Sofia laughed. “Except it’s hotter than hell in that house. I’m more pregnant than I’ve ever been in my life. And my fucking husband works long hours unexpectedly, leaving my pregnant ass here alone all night long!” 

The last part of that sentence was shouted in clear English. Sofia had certainly learned a lot in the past year, and she was expressing it through anger now. 

“Sofia... I knew you’d be upset tonight, but I can explain.” 

“Okay then, let’s hear the great reason.” 

Armando began to chuckle some more. 

“What’s so fucking funny?” 

Sofia spoke English still. 

“That!” Armando pointed at her. “You saying words like ‘fuck’! It’s kinda funny, Sofia.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh a little herself. 

“Well, maybe I like the word. Fuck!” 

Armando shushed her. 

“Why are you shushing me? There’s no one out here for miles, mi amor.” 

She began to walk toward the top of the porch stairs. Armando could see she was cheering up. He didn’t even have to explain what happened at work now. 

“Oh, so now I’m your amor again? Come on, Sofia.” He approached her and they embraced one another on the porch. He kissed her and then continued. “I never said this was going to be easy at first, but I’m going to be able to retire early. Do you realize that?” 

“No...” Sofia was confused. “What do you mean?” 

Armando grinned, his eyes bright with happiness as he stared into her eyes. Those eyes at that moment reminded her of the moment he said his vows to her. 

APRIL 1995 – SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS 

Julio was flipping through the channels on his radio in his car. Complaining and whining about all the “terrible music that’s out today”. 

“Can’t ever find a damn station worth a shit in any of these redneck, southern cities. I miss California!” 

He kept flipping through each song just as it would start, not even giving the tune a chance. 

“Fuck it! I’m here anyway.” He cried as he shut off the engine. He was already parked at his destination. 

He got out of his new black Pontiac Grand Prix. New, as he just purchased the vehicle, since it was an ‘86 model. He parked outside of a classy restaurant in downtown San Antonio, called La Comida Superior, and made his way inside. The food smelled excellent, as he entered, and he could see the gentlemen that he was there to meet, off in the back right corner of the restaurant. He told the restaurant greeter the party that he was with, Domingo, and made his way to the table. 

This restaurant was a very exclusive and expensive place to dine. It was a great privilege for Julio to be a business guest at this particular lunch meeting. He was greeted by the three men at the table: Luis Domingo, younger brother and second in command of the Domingo family; Geraldo Barbosa, right hand man and muscle for the bosses; and the boss himself, Luis’s older brother, Rudolpho Domingo. Rudolpho was his first name, but everyone called him Señor Domingo, out of respect. 

Señor Domingo was sitting alone on the right side of the table, motioning for Julio to take a seat next to him. 

“Siéntate. Siéntate.” Señor Domingo spoke. 

Julio was honored to take a seat next to the boss himself. He took his seat and shook hands with everyone, as they greeted one another. Julio was surprised that they all had remembered him and treated him with respect. The others had already gotten their meals, and Julio began to assume that he was just there to talk for a moment.

“Well...” Julio cleared his throat, “Thank you for having me here today, Señor Domingo. I’ll be as brief as I can with the details and get out of your hair soon, so you can enjoy your meal.” 

The three men looked at one another with confusion and the boss replied with a smile.

“Nonsense. Order yourself something. It’s on me.”  

A server began to walk by, and he called for her, “Disculpe.” He told her in Spanish to come back in a few moments to take Julio’s order. Julio began to look for what he wanted on the menu. He felt tense, being a mixed Latino. He didn’t really know how to speak Spanish all too well. He was a Chicano, originally from Southern California, and his lack of culture was used against him often. He always kept his wits about him, and that got him out of a lot of tricky situations. Yet, the language barrier was also dangerous sometimes, while working with other Latinos. He was vulnerable, not being fluent in Spanish. That’s why he was shocked that Señor Domingo had called him in for a lunch meeting. “What would the boss want with a Chicano, who can’t speak Spanish?” Julio constantly asked himself. 

The boss asked Julio how his day was going as he tried to place his order. It was almost difficult to concentrate on both, talking to the boss and thinking about what he wanted at the same time. The truth was, Julio didn’t really eat that much either; his palate was quite mediocre. He was even nervous about that. He didn’t eat like a Mexican, he didn’t talk like a Mexican; he didn’t even like Mexican music. But what mattered to him more than anything was making the boss happy, so he attempted some small talk. 

“So, this place is pretty awesome, from what I hear; definitely lives up to the name, right?” 

“Hey, Julio?” Luis scowled. “What’s wrong? You forget your Spanish or something?” 

Julio laughed nervously. He replied in his best Spanish. “Sorry, Señor, my Spanish is so bad. But I can try.” 

The three men began to chuckle a little. Then they proceeded to speak in Spanish to one another, cracking jokes on Julio about how Americanized he was. He could understand most of what they were saying, but he didn’t know enough Spanish to counter their insults and joke back. Even if he did know how to speak Spanish, he would still probably be too nervous to have any comebacks. He just let them continue to joke about him as he tried to find out what he wanted, when the server returned to the table before he could. She too began to speak in Spanish to him, causing the three men to make more jokes about him to the server. This embarrassed Julio, but he would only smile about it now. Then Señor Domingo began to pat him on the back. 

“It’s okay, chico. What do you want to eat? Go ahead and tell our pretty waitress.” 

Julio went ahead and settled for some chicken enchilada suizas and tried to relax a little. 

After the waitress walked away, Señor Domingo began to talk business.

“Look, Julio. I know that you’re a Chicano, who doesn’t speak Spanish that well. That’s actually the reason I brought you here today.” 

“Oh great” Julio thought, feeling merely like a helpful demographic, rather than a respected, skilled contractor. 

“Julio, you’ve been loyal to me since you were just a kid. How you never learned Spanish in the better part of a decade, I’ll never understand. But I like you, Julio, and I trust you.” 

The boss leaned closer and lowered his voice. 

“We need you for a certain job coming up. Some little punk ass bikers made the mistake of taking something that didn’t belong to them; the mistake was that it belongs to me. Do you understand?” 

Señor Domingo was now watching Julio’s eyes with a certain intensity. 

“Yes, sir, Señor Domingo.” 

Domingo’s gaze didn’t falter yet. 

“Good. Good.” 

He sat back more comfortably and continued. 

“We’ll send all the details at the usual drop. Don’t forget to make sure this never happens again, Julio.” 

“Of course, sir. I won’t let you down.” 

“Julio,” Luis spoke up. “We need precision. Keep everything contained inside. And then...” He lowered his voice to a whisper for this part. “Dispose of everything and I mean everything.” He continued at a normal volume. “You’ll know what I mean when you read the info packet.” 

“You’ll need to bring your partner.” Domingo pointed out. “He’s been excellent.” 

Julio grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s perfect for this...” 

Geraldo scoffed, cutting off Julio, and gaining the table’s attention. 

“What is it, Geraldo?” The boss questioned his loyal bodyguard. 

“I don’t like your partner, Julio. El Asesino del Diablo. That’s what everyone calls him, whether they know him or not. He’s something of a legend.” 

Julio looked surprised, “What’s the problem? He’s a professional.”

“He’s a butcher.” Geraldo glared at Julio. Julio could tell that Geraldo was a man that you would not want on your bad side, just by the chaos within his eyes. He continued. 

“I don’t know how he became part of this organization. I won’t question you, sir, and you have my loyalty, but that man lives up to his name. He is a demon.” 

Señor Domingo seemed intrigued. “Interesting. I knew the man did good work, but I didn’t know he was so notorious in your little conversation circles. So why is he called this? This ‘Devil’s Assassin’?” 

Geraldo wiped his mouth after taking a bite of his meal and explained. 

“He’s a sick man, Señor. I don’t agree with, nor appreciate his methods.” 

Señor Domingo began to chuckle. 

“Well, fuck! He must be a real bad fellow to ruffle the feathers of a rooster like you.” 

Geraldo continued to eat as he pointed to Julio with his fork. 

“Go ahead and tell him, hombre. Tell him how your partner got his reputation.” 

Julio shrugged and sighed. 

“Well, honestly...” 

He lowered his voice. 

“He would usually kill and dispose of his targets... with gasoline and fire. Many times, those targets were still... alive... I’ll admit, it’s a little barbaric, but it puts the fear of God in your enemies. There’s a reason why you haven’t had to muscle up so much lately. No one wants to retaliate when they know who they’re messing with.” 

Señor Domingo shook his head. 

“How come I never knew about these details?” 

He was looking at his brother, who just shrugged. 

“No need for details, hermano. That’s what you say. You trust me. I’m sorry Geraldo, but the guy is in the clean-up department. It’s a dirty job.” 

Domingo looked to his little brother Luis and they studied one another for a moment, as if they were reading one another’s minds. Domingo shrugged and gestured to his brother to speak for him.

“We don’t mind as long as his work gets done. But it needs to be quick and clean. Got it? Keep your dog on his leash and let him attack when the time is right. And only when the time is right. We don’t need dirty players to prove our strength. This family business has been alive since any of us were born for a reason. But we don’t need to muddy our reputation, Julio. Work is work, but even our business has certain... ethics.” 

“Yes, sir, I understand. I promise that you have nothing to worry about.” 

Señor Domingo smiled. 

“That’s what I like to hear, chico.” 

At that point, their server had arrived with Julio’s meal. The four men continued to talk over their lunch, as Julio realized that his foot was in the door with the top tier members of the family, just as long as this job went well.  

He knew it would go well. 

He had the help of The Devil’s Assassin, or Armando Trujillo, as Julio knew him best. 

Sofia was walking through the living room on the southwest corner of the homestead, making her way around to the kitchen, when she made out a black Pontiac coming down the driveway. 

“Armando! Julio’s here!” she called out to her husband, who was finishing his breakfast in the kitchen. 

Sofia had to use the restroom and was coming back to finish her breakfast, but she was struggling to keep her food down this morning. She hadn’t struggled badly with morning sickness throughout the nine months, but these last few weeks had escalated to a rough morning every day. She hated it because she wanted to be with her husband before he went off to work. But every morning lately, she was held up in the bathroom. 

She stepped into their kitchen on the northwest corner and took her seat next to Armando. He was almost done eating, trying to finish quickly, since his colleague had arrived. She made sure to have some conversation while she could. 

“You know? I still would love to get a dog. Could we after the baby is born?” 

Armando seemed uninterested and rushed. 

“You’re right. It probably is a bad time right now... with the baby and all.” 

Sofia shook her head. 

“Are you even listening to me? I said after the baby is born, I’d like to get a dog.” 

“Oh...” 

He didn’t look at her as he stood up and began to take his plate to the sink. She hated it when he acted like that, but she learned not to bother him much in the mornings. He wasn’t much of a morning person, and he was trying to get his mind prepared for his work. But he finally responded. 

“Yeah, but it’s probably best to wait until the baby can walk. I’d hate for the dog to get the baby sick or something. You never know if the child might be allergic.” 

“I hope she won’t be allergic. I’d love to get several animals. We could make this place a real ranch one day maybe.” 

Armando chuckled. 

“You’re very confident about the baby being a girl, huh?” 

Sofia sat up and approached him. 

“Feel her, Armando. She’ll be here soon. Very soon. I just know it.” 

Armando felt her baby bump, and she looked up at him with affection. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. He tried to kiss her lips, but she wouldn’t let him. 

“Maybe not now... I just...” 

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, mi amor.” 

“It’s okay. Not much longer now, and I won't have to deal with it.” 

They were embracing one another when there was a knock at the front door. It opened and they heard Julio call from the front door. 

“Lucy! I’m home!” 

The man deserved his own applause and laugh track. He made his way around the living room into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway with a bright smile. He removed his sunglasses and his hat. 

“Well good morning, lovebirds!” 

“Good morning, Julio,” Sofia replied cheerfully. 

Armando picked up his hat off the table and put it on before taking one last sip of coffee. 

Sofia observed Julio’s attire. He was dressed in a black suit with a golden necklace holding a golden skull pendant. 

“Your suit looks nice, Julio. And what a cool necklace. You all can dress like that at work?” 

Julio laughed and grabbed the pendant to look at it. 

“Oh... well this thing will go in my locker. I just like it, is all. It is cool, isn’t it? But forget me, look at you, Sofia! You look beautiful! The baby should be here soon, yes?” 

“Yes! Any day now. We’re so excited!” 

Julio wore his happiness for them on his sleeve. 

“You know, Sofia, you’re English has gotten so much better in such little time.” 

He looked at Armando. 

“You all are like a regular All-American family now!” 

Sofia and Armando were both pleased to hear this, shooting a satisfied glance at one another. 

“Thank you, amigo.” 

Julio clasped his hands together and sighed. 

“Well. I hate to split up the family for a bit, but work is work. And unfortunately, we gotta get going, buddy.” Julio jerked his thumb behind him, pointing at the door. “We got a long drive ahead of us.” 

“Long drive?” Sofia asked confused. “Aren’t you just going to Alpine like normal?” 

Julio felt he had put his foot in his mouth when he looked at his colleague. 

“Oh yeah. That’s all I meant. You know... everywhere is a long drive out here.” 

“Don’t worry about it anyway, Sofia.” Armando insisted. 

Sofia glared at her husband. 

“Why? Is it not customary?” 

This created a void of awkward silence between the three that made Julio uncomfortable. 

“Hey, man.” Julio laughed, “She’s just gonna miss you, that’s all. I’ll be in the car. You both take your time.” 

Julio made his way outside to the car. Armando waited until the front door closed before speaking up. 

“Why did you have to do that?” Armando complained. 

“Do what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

“And you know what I’m talking, mi amor.” 

They stared at one another for a moment. 

“I’m not doing this today. I love you. See you later.” 

He walked past her and they didn’t make eye contact. He walked in the living room and opened the front door when Sofia spoke from the kitchen. 

“He’s right you know.” 

He stopped to listen to her, while staring off into the vast barren wilderness that never ended. 

“I miss you so much when you’re gone all night.”

“Thank you, amigo.” 

Julio clasped his hands together and sighed. 

“Well. I hate to split up the family for a bit, but work is work. And unfortunately, we gotta get going, buddy.” Julio jerked his thumb behind him, pointing at the door. “We got a long drive ahead of us.” 

“Long drive?” Sofia asked confused. “Aren’t you just going to Alpine like normal?” 

Julio felt he had put his foot in his mouth when he looked at his colleague. 

“Oh yeah. That’s all I meant. You know... everywhere is a long drive out here.” 

“Don’t worry about it anyway, Sofia.” Armando insisted. 

Sofia glared at her husband. 

“Why? Is it not customary?” 

This created a void of awkward silence between the three that made Julio uncomfortable. 

“Hey, man.” Julio laughed, “She’s just gonna miss you, that’s all. I’ll be in the car. You both take your time.” 

Julio made his way outside to the car. Armando waited until the front door closed before speaking up. 

“Why did you have to do that?” Armando complained. 

“Do what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

“And you know what I’m talking, mi amor.” 

They stared at one another for a moment. 

“I’m not doing this today. I love you. See you later.” 

He walked past her and they didn’t make eye contact. He walked in the living room and opened the front door when Sofia spoke from the kitchen. 

“He’s right you know.” 

He stopped to listen to her, while staring off into the vast barren wilderness that never ended. 

“I miss you so much when you’re gone all night.”

Then the front door closed. Shortly after, she walked into the living room to look out the window and she could see the back of Julio’s car, riding off into the distance away from her.

Around eleven in the morning, Sofia was as bored as she’d ever been in her entire life. The house was insufferably hot inside, and she could barely stand it, so she was sitting in her rocking chair outside in the shade. At least out there she wasn’t inside of a wooden box, baking in the sun. She had no desire to watch any movies, and she had no desire to listen to any records. She felt better than she did in the morning as far as the sickness, but she just wanted to get out of the house. But she knew that she shouldn’t. She could have the baby at any time, and the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. If she were stuck on the road somewhere, she would be in a bad situation. She wasn’t due for another two weeks, but it was better to be safe, rather than sorry. But nothing at her home could keep her content. 

Then her odd craving started up again. 

For some reason, she had been craving the smell of gasoline. 

Just that strange craving alone drove her mad. She couldn’t take the isolation any longer. She figured, just one quick drive up the road to the gas station and back wouldn’t hurt. She could say hi to Walter and make her way back home. She could even call Walter to let him know she was on the way and call him when she got back home. She thought about it as she sat in her chair, tapping her fingers anxiously on the arm. That settled it; she went inside and phoned Walter. 

“Hey Walter! It’s Sofia. It’s good to hear your voice.” 

Sofia arrived at the gas station, parked the truck next to pump one, easily made her way out of the cab, and hobbled her way to the door of the gas station. Walter made his way around his counter to open the door for Sofia — something he’d grown accustomed to doing since around four or five months into her pregnancy. Before she walked in the door, she noticed that the poster of the two girls and the boy was still up, which indicated that the three were still missing. She never stopped thinking about the three of them and the story frightened her to her core. Yet, she tried to hide her thoughts as she stepped inside the cool airconditioned room. 

“Walter, you’re too nice. Thank you.” 

“Oh hush, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn't help however I could. I don’t know, nor never will know, what it’s like to have to carry another person for nine months straight. So, I don’t mind opening the door for nine seconds to be of assistance. Now, are you sure it’s a good idea to come down here alone?” 

“I couldn’t take it anymore, Walter. I just needed to get some fresh air for a moment. That house is so hot and boring.” 

“Yeah, well, I can understand. But you do call me as soon as you get home. Otherwise, I’ll be hauling ass down 385 to come find you.” 

They both laughed at the thought of that scenario. She knew Walter meant what he said. He was a good man. 

They made the transaction and had some lite small talk to catch up before she left, stepping out into the hot sun. Her back was killing her, but she felt much better getting out for a moment. She approached the pump, grabbed the gas nozzle, and pulled down the latch. She sat her back up against the truck after she began pumping, and she took a whiff of the aroma that she had been craving so much and closed her eyes, trying to go somewhere else in her mind for the moment she waited. She kept a safe distance, so she wouldn’t dangerously inhale the fumes. She wasn’t trying to hurt the baby, but that smell was just so desirable at this moment for her. As she held her eyes closed, she tried to take herself anywhere else; somewhere that wasn’t so hot, and where she wasn’t so pregnant. For a moment, her body believed her dreaming and she felt much better and relaxed. 

Suddenly, she was taken away from the dream by the sound of tires screeching into the parking lot, and pulling up at pump two, right in front of her. It was a big, navy-blue pickup truck. Two Caucasian men with cowboy hats hopped out of the cab; the man in the passenger seat made his way inside. Sofia watched him and noticed something peculiar. As he walked past the missing poster of Blakely, Henry, and Samantha, he chuckled. Inside, Walter saw this too and felt uneasy. Sofia turned her attention to the man in the driver’s seat and realized that he was staring at her. He stepped out of the truck, keeping his eyes locked on her and she looked away. His stare made her very uncomfortable. He leaned on his truck, facing Sofia, who looked back up at the man. Now, she decided to stare back, holding her ground. His mouth curled into a sly grin as he tipped his hat at her. 

“Good morning, ma’am.” 

She didn’t say anything, but she continued to stare in the man’s eyes. His eyes burned; there was something so deadly about them, that it physically hurt to look into them, but her gaze would not falter. In fact, it would intensity into a fierce glare. She had never been impolite to a stranger, but something told her that this man wasn’t a stranger. Something told her that he was a demon, like the ones she’d heard about her entire life in church. Something told her that these two men were “them”. 

Then she heard it strongly in her head. Samantha’s whisper: “Don’t let them get away, Sofia.” 

“It sure is hot out isn’t it, ma’am?” 

He inched closer to Sofia and rested his elbow atop the gas tank. 

“Please don’t get close to me.” 

The man smacked the gas tank and laughed. 

“You’ve gotta helluva accent. You’re Mexican ain’t ya?” 

Sofia pulled the latch back up to stop the gas from flowing and placed the nozzle back in its holder. 

“I have to go.” 

She put the cap back over the gas tank and tried to get back in her truck. 

“Well, you don’t have to be rude, miss. I’m just trying to be friendly. Is this how all you Mexicans are?” 

Sofia stopped in her tracks. At this point, the other man was coming outside with a bag of chips, a pack of cheap beer, and a gallon of water. Sofia didn't know if her intuition was correct, or if her dreams were playing tricks on her mind, but she hated hearing him blame her actions on people like her. "Show them we're good people." She remembered her mother telling her that. Even if these were bad people, this strange man was right. She was being hateful and she really hadn’t been given a plausible reason yet. When he stared her down, he could have recognized her from town, or maybe he was slow and didn't understand manners. But Sofia didn't feel that to be true. His eyes were hauntingly ominous. She turned to face the man, who now had his friend next to him. The other man was a little bigger and he was staring at her now too with an intrigued grin. 

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and pregnant. I need to get back home. Okay?”

“Where do you live around here? Don’tcha gotta husband to drive ya around?” 

“I don’t have time for this.” 

Sofia turned to get into her truck. 

Suddenly, she was snagged at the arm by the man. 

“Hold on, now! What’s the hurry?” 

“Let go of me! I’ll kill you!” Sofia bit down on the man’s hand until it bled. She didn't know where this side came from in her, but it came out in a sudden, complete burst. 

He hollered out in pain and smacked Sofia across the face with his bloody hand. 

“You stupid beaner bitch!” 

He grabbed at her throat, pinning her back against the cab of her truck when a loud BANG went off near them. 

It was Walter with a double barrel shot gun. While they were distracted by Sofia's burst of rage, he managed to sneak up a few feet from the two men without them noticing. 

“Get the hell off of her now!” Walter shouted with an intensity Sofia had never seen in the older man. 

Now the shot gun was aimed at the men's direction, but he only had one shell left. The passenger was back in the cab at this point. The driver was standing near Sofia with his hands up. 

Walter continued. 

“Now don’t try anything funny. I’ve already called the sheriff. He’s on the phone right now!” 

“You’re bluffin’!” Zeke shouted from the cab. His hand was on his revolver, in the middle cubby. 

Walter turned the shot gun to Zeke’s head. 

“You wanna test me?” 

“Hey!” Cody shouted. “There ain’t no reason to get all bad and black on us, okay, boy? We’ll leave! Alright?” 

“Oh no the hell you won’t... boy! Not until she goes first. You bastards can wait your low life asses right her until the police arrive! Now place your damn hands on top of your truck's hood, close to me. And you!” Walter shouted at the passenger. “Place your damn hands where I can see them on the dashboard, now!”

The leaner man, standing before Walter, had a devious glint in his eye and spit on the ground toward Walter's feet, but he did what he was told. One of his hands was bloody from Sofia’s chomp. The passenger began to cock the revolver, but the other man mouthed to him without Walter noticing. 

“Not now... just wait.” 

Walter shouted, growing impatient with the passenger's resistance. 

“Now, dammit!” 

The passenger finally complied with the other man's demands, but not without apparent frustration. Walter kept his eyes on the men, but felt that this was a terrible situation, but he needed to at least get Sofia far away from it. 

“Sofia, get in your truck and get out of here.” 

Sofia went inside the truck, but she hesitated, looking over at the poster of the three missing people. She looked at Walter and wondered if he needed her help. But he shouted at her. 

“Go Sofia! Go!” 

So, she did what she was told, and she took off as fast as she could back home. Afterall, Walter had them at gun point, and he said that the police were on the way. She wondered if she made a mistake and should have gone to town instead. But part of her knew she needed to confront these demons. She didn't want to put the baby in harm's way. But that voice echoed in her mind, and it called upon her to stop them... to not let them get away. 

But she didn't know exactly what she was supposed to do, in order to fulfill this cry for justice. 

Walter kept his grip tight and his eyes steady. The sweat was trickling down his head from the beaming sun, and he began to feel the sting in his eyes. The two men were calm as they kept their hands where Walter could see them. The only problem was that Walter was bluffing about calling the sheriff. He hadn’t gotten the chance to make the call. So, he tried to outsmart them and act quickly. 

“You both get in that truck, and you drive on up the road the other way, you hear? I don’t want no more part of this. The law will get you boys by the time you reach Marathon. Or maybe they won’t. Either way, you just leave us alone. Got it?” 

“Bullshit!” the passenger shouted. “If you called the law, then you’d want us to stay here. I say he’s bluffing, Cody!” 

The passenger was of course referring to the leaner of the two. Cody lifted his hands from the roof of the car and held them up in the air. 

“It’s okay, Zeke. Let’s just split. This old man seems to have everything under control here and has given us a chance at redemption.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Zeke cried. 

“Shut up, you idiot. Let's just get goin'.” 

Then he addressed Walter. 

“Old man can I get back in the truck and drive off the other way now? Pretty fuckin’ please... with sugar on top.” 

Walter pondered for a moment and then he nodded, 

“Yes... Just get the hell out of here! Pretty fuckin’ please... with sugar on top!” 

Cody smiled as he opened his door. 

“Okay, old man. Don’t piss yourself. Put that gun down before you hurt someone.” 

“Fat chance. I’ve got you both locked.” 

Cody continued to smile as he slid in the driver’s seat. He placed his hands down and started the engine. 

“Whatever you say! So long!” 

Zeke kept his hands on the dashboard as Walter kept his aim on him. The truck began to roll forward, cutting toward the road, facing the town of Marathon. Walter continued to aim at the truck even when it reached the end of the lot. Then they stopped.

Then Zeke jumped out of the passenger seat. Walter didn’t have time to react before a .38 special was firing off shots at him. Walter tried to fire off a shot in the Zeke’s direction, but he was just too far away. After the shotgun went off, everything went silent. Walter was still standing, confused as to why Zeke stopped shooting. Then he looked down. There were two bullet holes in his torso, gushing with blood down his light blue station jumpsuit. 

Walter dropped his gun and fell to the ground after seeing these wounds; still very alive, but in a state of shock. 

“Great shot, Zeke!” 

Cody cheered. 

“Let’s get this asshole out of sight before some other sap comes along.” 

Cody grabbed the shot gun and the two men drug Walter into the gas station. Inside, they placed him in the back for the time being, while they planned their next move. 

“Maybe I spoke to damn soon. I sure would have loved to have kept this gun, but you messed it up there, mister quick draw.” Cody complained, holding up the shotgun for Zeke to see. It got shot and damaged itself. 

Zeke was winded from dragging Walter and after jumping into action. He wasn’t in as good of shape as his brother and Walter was a large man. Zeke found his words in between catching his breath. 

“So, what should we do now, Cody?” 

Cody looked to the back of the store at Walter who was groaning in agony due to his wound. 

“First we’re gonna to kill that n_____!” 

Then Cody stared outside and looked in the direction where Sofia drove off. 

“And after we take a few things as payment for our inconvenience today, I’m gonna get that spik bitch... and kill her.” 

Cody looked at his brother. 

“I’m going to put our friend to sleep and get the safe key from him. Zeke, empty the register and grab those canisters and fill ‘em up.” 

A snake of blood slithered across the floor of Sofia’s upstairs bedroom from the door to her feet, due to the wound from the bullet lodged in her left leg. She was sitting, back against the wall, eyes on the door, shot gun in hand, awaiting what was to come next at the decision of the Domermuth brothers. Her face was drenched in sweat, and the room was reaching temperatures nearing one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. 

Cody had sent Zeke to fetch the gasoline from the back of their truck. 

He spoke calmly through the door. 

“One last chance to change your mind.” 

Sofia was fading in and out now. She fought with all her strength to stay conscious. Cody figured that she was losing the battle within herself. 

“Suit yourself.” 

Sofia gave up and let her mind float away. The room began to spin around her, but she just held on for the ride. It felt like that one time, after she first married Armando, when she first drank tequila and had too much. She didn't really like to drink after that night and she hated the feeling the way she remembered it. Although the spinning overwhelmed her now the same way it did back then, and she worried that she might get sick, this time she held on and embraced the effect, riding the wave with all her strength, until she found herself drifting softly away. And she accepted the effect, as it embraced her back. 

She drifted away in a deep sleep. 

She found herself in the valley again, walking down the trail in her dreams that she always found led to Tlamatini. She had her strength about her and felt great; much better than she had in a long time. Then she realized that she wasn’t pregnant anymore. She knew this was a dream, but she feared what this could possibly mean. In all of her dreams with Tlamatini and Yolotli, she had been pregnant, even before she was pregnant. She began to run as fast as she could down the trail that she had come to know so well. It was the same in every dream, it had become a reality to Sofia, as she traversed this land that didn't feel like a figment of her imagination, but rather a destination that she had found. But it was a long trail to Tlamatini from here, and she didn't have much time, nor did she know if she'd lost the child or not. 

The brothers continued to douse the entire house with gasoline. Cody thought of something. 

“You know, I’m gonna put some around the perimeter too.” 

“Around the what?" Zeke didn’t have an education past the seventh grade. 

“Around the outside walls, stupid. You just keep doin’ what you’re doin'.” 

Cody shook his head with irritation and proceeded to go outside. As soon as he stepped on the front porch a big black raven violently attacked him, unlike anything he’d ever seen. The bird was clawing at his face with its talons and pecking at his eyes. He covered his face with his hands, cowering away from the creature. Finally, he managed to grab at the bird and got a hold of it. 

“You stupid fuckin’ bird! What the hell has gotten into you?” 

He squeezed the animal with his hands and threw the bird on the ground before stomping it several times. After he finished, he felt his face and made the horrible realization of how damaged he was. He had claw marks all over and one of his eyes was wounded and bleeding profusely. In fact, the eye itself was completely mutilated and blind. He hollered out in infuriated pain. Then he looked over and noticed he’d dropped his canister of gasoline, and it had now leaked all in one spot on the porch. This made him holler once more. He was scarred, but it made him desire Sofia’s fate even more now. 

Julio and Armando had just drove through Marathon and were now heading up 385 to the homestead. Julio was having a great time, drinking a shot while driving and yelling with triumph. 

“Hell yeah! We’re back home and we did it! Another job successful, except for some reason, man, I feel like this was the one. This is our ticket, man. My ticket in and your ticket out.” 

“Yeah, whatever you say, Julio. Can you not drink that right now?” 

“What man? We’re in the middle of nowhere. What are you afraid I’ll run over a poor little cactus? Here man, take a drink, and celebrate with me!” 

Armando actually smiled for once and accepted the offer, taking a swig, but then he closed the bottle and placed it under his seat. 

“Okay... let’s put it away for now. The last thing we need is heat.” 

“Whatever man. You’re starting to act all old and you’re not even thirty yet. You realize how old I am, man? I'm almost forty! Take it from me, married man, you gotta live a little when you can." 

"You're only thirty-five." 

"Yeah, well it's close enough to feel older than the hills compared to you and Sofia. Hey, Armando." 

Armando looked over at the man that had come to be a close friend over the past few months. Julio continued. 

"I'm happy for you kids. You deserve this opportunity to get out. Domingo's a good man to work the way he does. You know, no one else would be so trustworthy? But he picks them right. Old cats know when to cross the street, you know?" 

Armando smiled again. "Thanks, my friend. It means a lot." 

Julio smiled. It made him happy to see the kid smile a little more. He was always so serious for someone so young. Julio realized he needed to stop and swerved in the gas station outside Marathon really quick. 

"Oh shit, we're real low on gas, and I could take a piss like a racehorse.” 

When they pulled up to the pump, Armando noticed something wrong immediately. 

“Woah, what the fuck? Look, amigo.” 

Armando pointed at the front of the store. 

“There’s bullet holes in the building and the glass is shattered.” 

They got out of the Pontiac and began to investigate; their guns drawn. They both never really cared for Walter. They were prejudiced for their own reasons and always treated Walter like he was beneath them, simply because the color of his skin. But they didn't hate him and had known him enough to worry that the old man was in trouble and might need help. 

“Look at that.” 

Julio pointed to the ground and there were bullet casings and blood.

Armando’s intuition began to hit and, instead of running to the store, he ran back to the pumps, and something made him fear the worst. There were two sets of tire tracks. It looked like two trucks had peeled off heading in the direction of his house. 

Julio had gone inside, careful not to touch anything with his bare hands. It was just as he thought. Armando came running over. 

“Julio, we’ve got to go. I think Sofia might be in trouble.” 

He noticed that Julio was staring at something. When Armando saw it, even he was shocked at what he saw. 

It was Walter. Or at least, what was left of him. 

Now, Armando and Julio had seen many things. They'd done many jobs that required muscle, and at times they couldn't leave anyone behind to tell the tale. Armando was labeled 'The Devil's Assassin' due to his notorious nature when killing his enemies and that even got him the bad reputation among calculated killers like Domingo's right-hand man, Geraldo, who had worked hits since Armando was born. 

But this was some sick man's work. Whoever had killed Walter, made a mess out of him, unlike any message these two men had ever seen. 

And whoever did it, was probably after Sofia now. 

Then a raven appeared, landing on the empty window frame, cawing at them. It frightened them and Julio got irritated. 

“Stupid bird, you scared the hell out of me!” 

He began to shoo at the bird, but Armando stopped him. 

“Wait, Julio.” 

Armando stared at the bird. It seemed like it was staring back. Then it flew off toward the house, cawing the entire time. 

“We have to go now, Julio!” 

Julio didn't question him. He began to assume the worst himself. 

They both jumped in the Pontiac and tore off as fast as they could. 

Sofia ran down the same path that she knew from her dreams until she found him. He sat in a valley meditating as usual with Yolotli resting on his shoulder. She was so distraught that she shouted to the man. 

“Tlamatini!” 

He opened his eyes and smiled. 

“Hello, my friend.” 

“Tlamatini! Don’t you know what’s happening? How could you smile? Don’t you know that I’m about to die and that they will take my child with me.” 

“Calm down, Sofia. I’m smiling because I always smile when I see someone that I care for. And I smile because I am pleased that you are able to see me and Yolotli. You will make it out of this Sofia. Help is on its way. The child will be born and live.” 

“Then why am I like this in this dream? Why am I not pregnant.” 

“This is no dream, Sofia, but merely an extension of your reality. And you’re not pregnant, Sofia. It’s time.” 

“I know, but I was scared... you mean it? She’s going to be okay.” 

He nodded, assuring her. 

Sofia looked to the man for a moment and thought. 

“What do you mean help is coming? Who’s coming?” 

It was at this moment that she began to observe the hills around her and noticed that silhouettes of groups of people began to appear atop them. Somehow, she could tell they were looking down at her, and she understood. 

“You are not alone, Sofia. The spirits of your loved ones, your ancestors – your people – they are coming to save you.” 

“What in the fuck happened to you?” Zeke observed his brother's wound. 

Cody shouted, “Shut the fuck up!” 

Cody made his way toward the base of the stairs, covering his mutilated eye. Blood had gushed through his fingers and from under his palm. Zeke followed with a concern for his brother and how this could have happened, but he no time to ask any more questions, as Cody began to shout to Sofia. 

“Alright, you fucking bitch! We’re all finished up down here! So, say your prayers to Mother Mary or your Sun God or whatever, because it’s time to burn in hell on Earth.” 

Cody turned to walk back outside and spoke to Zeke as he passed him. 

“Kill that spik.” 

Zeke took a pack of cigarettes, with a match pack in the clear, cellophane wrap, from his jean pocket. He placed the cigarette in his lips, took a match, struck it, lit up the cigarette, took a few drags as he savored the moment, and then flicked the small flame onto the floorboards in front of him as he stood in the doorway. The flames began to dance before him as it expanded across the room. He stepped outside to avoid its intense blaze. He watched the flames rise with delight. The smoke was beginning to fill up the house, and it was starting to reach upstairs. Since Cody dropped the last gas canister, they couldn’t make the job go faster, as they planned to burn the building from the outside too. Nonetheless, Sofia had very little time left. 

Sofia opened her eyes and then stood up. She was drenched in sweat and her wounds still hurt, but she was confident and ready to fight. But what she woke up to had brought back the intense dread of this reality. She stood back in horror, smelling the gasoline and burning wood. She could hear the crackling of the fire below. Bits of smoke began to seep through her door, and she went to open her window for air. She looked down the window and wondered if she could jump. Her fear of heights kicked in the moment she looked down at the drop. She knew that she couldn’t make it. Not being as pregnant as she was. She began to cry out the window. “Help! Someone please! Help!” But she knew it was no use. No one was around. Or at least that’s what she thought. She slid off the bed and back onto her feet to look around the room. Maybe she could tie something together to get herself down. But she just worried that they would shoot her or catch her if she did that. As she stood on her feet and looked around — something happened at the worst time — her water broke.

Armando and Julio could see smoke billowing from the front of the house. Julio was driving as fast as his car could go. Zeke could see them coming. 

“Cody... you might want to see this.” 

Cody turned around and saw the car coming in hot through the one eye he had left. Something told him that it was coming for them and not just spectating.  

Julio slung the car onto the dirt road as fast as he could without losing control, and they were flying down the dirt road. Julio handed Armando his gun, and Armando was getting them both locked and loaded up. Cody could see how they were coming, and he could tell that these weren’t just some onlookers coming to make sure everyone was okay. Someone was coming for a fight. Cody pulled out the revolver and began to load it, exposing the brutality of his wound to his brother. But Zeke only had time to ask in his confusion, 

“Who in the fuck is that?” 

“I don’t know.” Cody replied. “But they’re in for a real treat.” 

But then something else caught their attention. The sound of birds cawing relentlessly, and lots of them. The two men turned to see the monstrous murder approach them. They were coming in quick and as they reached the property they began to swoop and attack at the two men. For a moment, it seemed that the sun had disappeared, as a shadow cast over the homestead. Armando and Julio watched in their own horror, wondering what on Earth was possibly happening. But even so, they needed to get Sofia out of the house immediately. 

Upstairs the flames were beginning to reach the outside of Sofia’s door. She was sobbing and screaming. She was terrified and infuriated at the same time. She could have killed one of the men with shear strength if she had gotten the chance one on one. She wanted to kill them. She made her way to the bed and looked out the window again. She cried out some more and Armando could hear her, but she didn’t know that he was there. She was high-strung and full of energy now, compared to before. The pain kept her awake now. She was giving birth in a house that was burning down. She had no choice but to lie back and try to push the baby out. Maybe then she could find a way out of the window with the child. She pushed and hollered and cried and the door began to burn down before her eyes. She could see the flames and the smoke was billowing over her head out of the window. She could feel the heat slowly, but surely making its way toward her. She pushed the baby out with all her might, and thanks to her adrenaline, the baby came out before the flames took the door down completely. Pieces of wood and debris were falling on the floor and the room was as hot as an oven. The baby was screaming and crying. Sofia didn’t care about the mess of blood and afterbirth. All she wanted was to hold her baby — even if it was just once. She pulled the baby up to her and help her tight to her chest. As the baby squalled her lungs out, Sofia couldn’t help but join her in letting out one last scream of pain and ire.

This was it. This was how she was going to go out. There wasn’t anything that she could do. 

Julio braked about twenty feet from the house, just behind Cody and Zeke’s truck. Zeke, who wasn’t armed hid behind Sofia’s truck. Both men jumped out quickly and they could see that Cody was armed, but he couldn’t focus a shot on the men. Cody waved his fun all over firing into the cluster of black feathers, razor-sharp talons, and screaming beaks. Zeke was screaming like a scared little child, mortified by the overwhelming shock of his surreal circumstances. Julio raised his gun to shoot, but Armando stopped him. 

“Julio don’t!” 

“Why not?!” 

“Think about it – something strange is happening! They’re not attacking us!” 

Julio looked more perplexed than Armando had ever seen the man. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

“I don’t know,” Armando replied, “but follow me and watch my back! I need to get Sofia out now! Try not to shoot the birds, Julio! I mean it!” 

He first tried to run through the front door, but it was no use. The flames were too much. He hollered for her through the house. 

“Sofia!” 

She heard him, and she clutched their crying baby tight, as she began to sob tears of intense relief. 

“I’m in the bedroom! The window! The window!” 

They had a ladder in the back shed that had always made Sofia so frightened. He rushed as fast as he could to get it. The flames were in the room with Sofia and their baby. They were only moments away from being cooked alive. But Armando was quick, and he was up the ladder as fast as a firefighter. He tried to grab Sofia, but she just cried out, “No! The baby! The baby!” 

Armando’s eyes were wide with shock. He barely had time to process that he was meeting his newborn daughter. He held the little infant girl as tightly as he could while climbing steadily down the ladder. He rushed with the child to Julio and, without any warning, placed the child in Julio’s care. Julio, who was already upset about his new suit being ruined earlier that day, was not pleased at all with this. But his relief for the child’s safety made him get over it.  

Julio held on to the crying baby as he watched the birds continue to subdue the men, who were now cowering on the ground, covering their faces and heads. They were covered in blood and feathers, surrounded by many dead birds that had died in the fight. Julio didn’t believe in God or the Devil. He wasn’t religious and he wasn’t spiritual. But after that day, Julio believed there to be some sort of higher power out there – some sort of “eyes in the sky” looking down on him. 

Sofia could feel the flames almost touching her. They were reaching her bed. The ladder was there, but she was too weak. She just sat with her head resting on the windowsill. She had exerted all her energy to ensure her daughter’s survival. Now she seemed content with everything.  

She gave up on herself and didn’t mind to. 

She did it. 

Her daughter was safe and would live. 

That’s all that mattered now. 

The last thing she saw was her husband at the foot of the ladder, calling for her. 

That’s when she blacked out entirely. 

No visit to Tlamatini and Yololi. 

Just darkness.

BREWSTER COUNTY SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT 

OFFICIAL INCIDENT / OFFENSE REPORT 

REPORTING OFFICER: DEPUTY J. HUMPHREYS (BADGE #121) SUPERVISING OFF.: SHERIFF N. P. MCINTIRE 

INCIDENT LOCATION: TRUJILLO HOMESTEAD / RURAL BOUNDARY, OFF U.S. HIGHWAY 385 NORTH, BREWSTER COUNTY, TEXAS  

VICTIM #1 (HOSPITALIZED / CRITICAL STABLE): 

FULL NAME: TRUJILLO, SOFIA MORENO  

AGE / DOB: 19 / 08-15-1975  

RESIDENCE: RURAL ROUTE 3, BOX 42, MARATHON, TX (BREWSTER CO.)  

INJURIES / CONDITION: SINGLE GUN WOUND TO EXTREMITY; SECONDARY THERMAL/SCALD BANDAGED BURNS TO LOWER EXTREMITIES; SEVERE ACUTE SMOKE INHALATION. COMPLICATED BY LIVE ACUTE CHILDBIRTH AT SCENE DURING CONFLAGRATION.  

CURRENT LOCATION: INTENSIVE CARE UNIT, BREWSTER MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, ALPINE, TX.  

DEPENDENTS: TRUJILLO, UNNAMED BABY (NEWBORN INFANT FEMALE). CURRENTLY IN ICU INCUBATOR UNDER OBSERVATION FOR ENVIRONMENTAL LUNG DISTRESS.  

VICTIM #2 / REPORTING PARTY: 

FULL NAME: TRUJILLO, ARMANDO  

AGE: 21 / 11-25-1970  

EMPLOYMENT: PLANT FOREMAN / LOGISTICS MANAGER, DOMINGO DISTILLING & DISTRIBUTION LLC  

INJURIES: NONE. CLOTHING ENTRAINED WITH HEAVY CARBON EXHAUST/ASH ACCUMULATION.  

NARRATIVE ROLE: PRIMARY WITNESS / EXTRACTION PARTY. COOPERATING WITH LOCAL INVESTIGATORS.  

SUSPECT #1 (AT LARGE / ARMED & EXTREMELY DANGEROUS): 

FULL NAME: [UKNOWN]  

DESCRIPTION: CAUCASIAN MALE, APPROX. 25–28 YRS. SLIGHT BUILD, SUN-BLEACHED HAIR. LAST SEEN WEARING BLOOD-SATURATED WESTERN APPAREL.  

IDENTIFYING MARKS / TRAUMA: SUSTAINED SEVERE CATASTROPHE TO RIGHT FACIAL/OCULAR REGION AT SCENE. BELIEVED TO BE COMPLETELY OR PARTIALLY BLINDED, ACTIVELY BLEEDING.  

SUSPECT #2 (AT LARGE / ARMED & EXTREMELY DANGEROUS): 

FULL NAME: [UNKNOWN]  

DESCRIPTION: CAUCASIAN MALE, APPROX. 25–28 YRS. HEAVY-SET / LARGE MUSCULAR BUILD (APPROX. 6'2", 230 LBS)  

2:00 AM – EARLY HOURS AFTER THE INCIDENT – INTENSIVE CARE UNIT; BREWSTER MEMORIAL HOSPITAL 

Her eyes opened and everything was fuzzy. 

A figure walked by. The room was cold and dark, with one dim light bulb piercing the darkness around her. She tried to get the figures attention, but when she spoke, no sound came. Then she realized there was an oxygen mask on her face. Her vision regained its strength, and she began to make out that the figure was a nurse, and that she was in bed in some sort of hospital room. She began to raise her right hand to get the nurse's attention, and this proved to work as the woman approached the bed. 

Sofia tried to speak once more, but the nurse couldn't understand, so she delicately slipped the mask from Sofia's mouth. 

"My daughter," she tried to mutter, but her voice wasn't itself. 

The nurse moved in close to hear her, "What is it?" 

"My daughter... My daughter..." 

The nurse looked to her patient with sympathy, but she smiled. 

"Don't worry, dear. Your daughter is doing fine. But you both need rest now. I hope you understand." 

Sofia's eyes were blood red. The trauma was built in her face, and she looked ten years older than she had the day before. She tried to speak once more. 

"Ofelia..." the weary patient said. 

The nurse gave a puzzled looked and leaned in closer again, "What's that?" 

"Ofelia... name by daughter... Ofelia..." 

And then she closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

9:00 AM – LATER THAT MORNING – BREWSTER COUNTY COURTHOUSE 

A frenzy of reporters walled off the steps of the courthouse, as Sheriff McIntire answered questions. It was a sweltering hot day in Alpine; summer had come early to Texas in 1995 and everyone was feeling it. But these reporters were hungry for this story. 

“Sheriff McIntire!” One voice called out louder than the rest, catching his attention first. He pointed to her. 

“What’s your question?” 

“Rachel Lancaster – Alpine Avalanche – could you give us an update on the condition of Sofia Trujillo and the newborn baby, Ofelia?” 

The sheriff finished a large gulp from a water bottle. He was visibly sweaty, exposed to intensity of the sun’s rays, which had already cooked the morning up to 90 degrees Fahrenheit. 

“Yes, Sofia is doing fine. Her wounds from a gunshot and second degree burns on her left leg, along with significant smoke inhalation, are being treated, and she is being checked on regularly. She has shown signs of mental clarity but has mostly slept since the incident. The baby is doing fine as well, but currently in an incubator due to smoke inhalation. The doctors are confident that she will survive. Next question – you.” He pointed to another reporter. 

“Charles Nicely – Big Bend Sentinel – can you explain the bizarre avian occurrence, regarding the flock of birds that were encountered at the crime scene...” 

He was cut off by McIntire. 

“Look, I’ve had questions about this all day. The answer I have for you is that this is a serious case with dangerous criminals at large. Let's keep the questions to the victims, the suspects, and the investigation. I’m not here to answer questions for National Geographic.” 

2:00 PM – LATER THAT DAY – BREWSTER MEMORIAL HOSPITAL 

Sofia was moved from the ICU to the general medical floor, where she would stay for the remainder of her time. It was the first time she had seen Armando since she passed out. They wheeled her across the hospital in a wheelchair with an elevated leg rest, as her left leg was healing from the burns and the gunshot wound. Armando pushed the chair, happy to see his wife awake again, as they took her to her new room, but she felt awful and her face and voice matched how she felt; her eyes bloodshot red still from the smoke and her voice raspy from the inhalation. She endured constant pain and discomfort, due to not being able to take too much pain medication, which was dangerous for Ofelia's health, as it would pass through Sofia's breast milk. In spite of her pain, Sofia requested to be moved out of the isolation ward as soon as possible, and the doctors made sure to do so in the safest manner possible. She couldn’t wait to see her baby, Ofelia, but she wouldn't get to until the next day. 

Unfortunately, Ofelia would be in an incubator in the ICU for several days, due to the smoke inhalation causing damage to her own lungs. Sofia would get some time with her every late morning, for skin-to-skin contact, which the nurses implored was as important for the baby’s heart as the incubator was for her lungs. Armando would have to be separated from the child a little longer, only seeing her in Sofia’s arms through a window. He felt that it was karma. He had used gasoline to kill so many people. They all were criminals, enemies, and bad people in general. But he thought about that drunk loner that he and Julio had killed at the club just yesterday. That man didn’t really deserve the death he’d got. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. But what did that make of Armando? He would contemplate it while looking at his daughter through a glass border for the first week of her life; wondering about the irony that he would be separated from his daughter because her lungs were poisoned by his trademark weapon. These men chose this by coincidence, but Armando wondered if he even believed in coincidences anymore. Those birds were no coincidence. Something happened back there. Was it even ironic? Or was it karma? He felt that he deserved everything he got for his terrible deeds. But Sofia didn’t. And Ofelia most definitely did not deserve this. 

7:00 PM – THE FIRST EVENING – SOFIA'S HOSPITAL ROOM 

There was a knock on the door. 

Armando was sitting in the chair next to his wife. 

The guests were Maria and Margaret. Maria had met Armando several times, but Armando hadn’t gotten to meet Margaret yet, although they both had heard plenty about the other, and Margaret had seen him drive or walk by from time to time. 

“I hope it’s not a bad time, dear, but we had to check on you,” 

Margaret explained in Spanish. The conversation remained that way, as it was more native to most speakers in the room. 

“No, it’s not a bad time at all," Sofia's voice was noticeably weak, but no one brought attention to it, "We’re bored in this room. Come on in.” 

Sofia was excited to see friends visiting her. 

Maria spoke up as she walked in seeing Sofia with the IVs, and oxygen mask – it was a lot for a girl her age to witness. 

“Oh my God, Sofia. I can’t believe what I’ve heard. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m feeling alive and that’s all that matters for myself and my daughter. Thank you both for coming to check on us. There’s so much to tell, but I'm not in the best condition to tell the story now, if you can tell.” 

She tried to laugh, but it stirred up a coughing fit, and she had to spit up in a basket next to her bed. This embarrassed her, but her friend only felt remorse for the poor young woman. As she tried to get herself together, she thought of another good friend from the town of Marathon. 

“Walter... how’s Walter doing?” 

Maria and Margaret looked at each other. Then they looked at Armando to see if he knew. He looked away immediately. He knew more than he wanted to know. Their expressions told her everything. She couldn’t contain her emotions and a knot tied around her vocal cords as she tried to speak, making it more difficult than it already was. 

Tears flowed and she couldn’t hide the pain. She blamed herself for his death. 

If she’d stayed home, none of this would have happened. 

She could tell those men attacked her because she was vulnerable – she was what they wanted. Maybe it was some sort of destiny. Maybe Cody Domermuth was a demon – and maybe he saw her in that vision. She couldn't explain any of it. But in the end, she got Walter involved. He was a good man who wouldn’t stand by and let that happen to her. He died protecting her, while she was somewhere everyone told her not to be – Walter included. They all cared about her safety and now that care had cost someone their life. She felt guilty to her core. 

Even if it was her duty to take on those demons – she put others in the line of fire. 

THE FIRST NIGHT 

Sofia wished that she would dream about Tlamatini and Yolotli, but she hadn't seen them since the incident. She needed guidance but couldn't make a connection. Could they enlighten her and help her through this mental anguish? Tlamatini always had the right thing to say. 

But she wouldn’t dream about him again for a long time. 

Instead, she’d dream about that girl again. Samantha – the girl from the poster. But this time, her sister, Blakely, and the boyfriend, Henry, would join her; their eyes all filled with the same glossed over, absent gaze. 

Sofia found herself in the same abandoned shed behind the homestead; fire eating the walls around her – and that terrible smell of gasoline filling her lungs. The intense heat overwhelmed her as it closed in, forming a claustrophobic cave of fire around her. Coyotes wailed outside the structure, piercing her ears, as if their wild howls were electrically amplified within the boundaries of the walls of fire. That's when the three young individuals emerged from the fire. 

They merely stared at first. But suddenly, Samantha calmly walked toward Sofia, but as she reached for Sofia's head, it frightened her, causing her to jump back. But the girl spoke up. 

"Please... trust me..." 

Sofia did trust her. And when the girl placed her hand on Sofia's head, they were transported from the shed into somewhere just as claustrophobic and intense. Sofia almost regretted this decision, although she'd understand the significance of the journey.

Sofia found herself trapped within the very van that the three Knoxville kids were trapped inside of when they were broken down in the middle of nowhere during the scorched, early summer of the Chihuahuan Desert in 1995. Beside her was the screaming, panicked Samantha, smashing the windows with her hands and screaming. 

"You're monsters! You're the devil! How could you do this?" She screamed as she smacked her hands against the windows. 

She continued to smack at them until she punched one completely out, and that's when the flames ignited around the entire vehicle. Sofia felt them, and she watched them rise with horror. The bodies of Blakely and Henry were in the floor, she had realized finally. Samantha screeched and cried as the flames rose, and Sofia sat right next to her. She looked out to the Domermuth Brothers in a fury – not fear. She hated them for what they'd done, and she wanted to end them. She relived the pain again, but she saw it from Samantha's eyes, and it just made her understand even more why she had to make sure they were dead. 

But then something strange happened from her perspective. As she glared out the window, she saw the sick brothers mock their victim – until Cody stopped to notice Sofia herself. Zeke continued to goof around, oblivious to his brother's trance. Cody gazed upon Sofia and inched close to the burning vehicle. Zeke began to look confused at his brother. 

"Hey... I ain't usually the smart one, but maybe we should get away from the burning van?" 

But Cody just continued to observe the burning girl inside – or at least that's what Zeke saw. But Cody saw Sofia... as if she jumped in time and was really there when it happened. He saw her, and he remembered her. 

Sofia woke up. But she wondered... was Cody really some sort of a demon; a for real demon? 

Did he see her back then? Did he know her already? 

She'd seen stranger things lately.

DAY TWO AT BREWSTER MEMORIAL 

The next day, Sofia slept in until it was time to see Ofelia. 

She could barely sleep with the nightmares, but they seemed to go away around dawn, and finally, she fell into a deep, dark sleep without the visions. No one bothered her to wake up until she needed to visit the baby. She needed sleep and everyone understood all too well that they didn't understand what unimaginable world Sofia was living in at the moment. Everyone was worried about, not only her physical health, but her mental well-being. 

Armando was sitting with her at nine in the morning, knowing the nurses would bring her to Ofelia shortly, but to his surprise another friendly face came to visit. It was his mother, Lucresia. 

He had flown in all the family; his parents, his siblings, and Sofia’s mother, Irma. Lucresia came down alone, hoping to not overwhelm Sofia with the entire entourage of the Trujillo clan. Irma wouldn’t be in until the next day, but all of Armando’s family was staying in a nearby hotel in town for a few days. 

When Lucresia walked in the door, Sofia was still sleeping. She observed her daughter-in-law – Sofia's oxygen mask covering her face, the IV stuck in her hand, the JP suction bulb connected to her gunshot wound, and her left leg elevated and covered all over from the second-degree burns – and this image of her good friend's daughter that she had known since birth began force her to shed tears. It horrified her, knowing that Sofia had gone through such a traumatic disaster. 

She began to argue with her son, "When can I see my granddaughter?" 

"Mama," Armando started, "It's complicated." 

"What do you mean it's complicated," Lucresia objected, "Please tell me my grandchild is okay, mijo..." 

Armando explained everything about Ofelia's situation. Lucresia tried to understand, but there was so much on her mind. She observed Sofia and switched to discuss her condition. 

"What did they do to her?" Her voice quivered. 

"I don't know entirely, mama... I just know that... she's still here." 

"You don't think...?" Lucresia started, but she didn't know how to finish. 

Armando shook his head, "I don't know, but... I'm just happy that she's here. Let's not think about that now." 

His mother began to sob as she observed the young woman, and her son held her to console her. She held him back. They needed one another and this was good for him. He tried to be Sofia's rock – someone who didn't let the sharp edges of reality cut deep enough to break his tough exterior – but, just like her, he missed his own family. It was good to see his own mother again, and she made this difficult time feel just a little more secure for once. It felt like they were back home for a moment. He tried to explain some more.

"I know you want to meet her. It's difficult to deal with, but I understand your pain more than anyone else. But it's best for Ofelia, so we have to wait, no matter how much it hurts." 

They both felt the same. And Sofia did too. They wanted to know, see, and feel for themselves that Ofelia was going to be okay, and their family would be whole again someday. 

Lucresia would wait for Sofia to wake up, and together, her and Armando could watch Sofia have her first time with Ofelia. 

The nurses asked Armando if he would help them lift Sofia from the bed and into her chair, so that they could wheel her to the ICU to see Ofelia for the first time. Armando was happy to and preferred to be of assistance. Sofia, on the other hand, had quite an arduous journey – one that would become a daily routine for a while. Without a regular dose of pain medication that most patients would have received, Sofia's move from the bed to the chair, and across the hospital, wasn't comfortable, to say the least. Armando tried to be easy with her, but he couldn't help but feel that there wasn't anything he could do to make her transition smooth. As they placed her in the chair, he asked her how she was feeling to make sure. 

"Are you okay, mi amor?" 

But her face spoke a million words. 

She was strong. She was alive. 

But the tears pooled in her eyes, as she endured the pain. It wasn't the pain that hurt. It was that they made her feel pain – she had to endure pain in order to meet her daughter. And her loved ones, like her husband and her mother-in-law, had to see her like this. That hurt far worse. 

But it was all worth it when she held Ofelia for the first time. 

And there was something about Ofelia. Her eyes shined like the sun. 

Sofia could see it in her eyes and feel it when she held her. 

Sofia found herself in the same trap when she fell asleep on the second night. 

She didn't see Tlamatini nor Yolotli still, and it made her fall deeper in her depression that was beginning to ripple. 

But this time, the nightmare was more horrific, as it wasn't just the victims she had learned so much about. There were more people that joined the three victims she had known from the missing posters – all victims of the Domermuth brothers. They all wanted justice. They echoed the same demands to Sofia, saying that it was up to her; that those two killers were still alive. 

And they echoed something very peculiar. 

"Armando knows... Armando knows..."

DAY THREE 

Sofia kept the dreams to herself. She didn’t know what to think about it yet. But they were ruining her sleep at night and making her fear for the worst. What did they mean about Armando knowing...? Knowing what? What did he supposedly do to those two killers and where were they? The police said they were still at large, based on the only information she'd received from Armando himself. 

She considered that Armando didn’t care to hear about her prophetic dreams beforehand. Although, she had not been told the full story yet, as to what all Armando had seen on that day. She was trapped in the house. She knew that ‘help’ had come for her, but she assumed it was Armando who had saved her. She didn’t know about the ravens yet because no one came to bother her about the details, fearing it would be a trigger for the young woman, who just deserved some peace at this time. 

When she first woke up on the third day, she sat in bed and stared at the wall for a while. Armando wasn’t there at that moment. He was off for a walk, trying to free his own mind from stress and worries. They had been at the hospital for three days now and it was starting to get claustrophobic in the room. 

As Sofia sat in her bed, she suddenly noticed a figure in the doorway with her peripheral vision, and thought it to be Armando at first, until she realized that it was her mother, Irma. The visitor looked at her bedridden daughter for a moment, and the surprised daughter looked back; their eyes began to pool up from the tears. Irma came over to Sofia and leaned toward her to hold her the best she could, as Sofia laid in her bed. 

“My God,” Irma spoke in Spanish, still not knowing how to speak English, “the world almost took everything from me again..." 

She looked up and the tears rolled down her cheeks before she looked back to Sofia. 

"But my daughter is alive... when I heard the news, it almost killed me.” 

“I’m okay, mama. And so is Ofelia.” 

“Ofelia... Where is my granddaughter?” 

“She’s in an incubator.” 

Irma was visibly confused, “What’s that?” 

“It’s a small pod that she stays in to help regulate her oxygen. Her lungs were a little damaged after the fire.” 

This made her mother's eyes water up more. “Those sick gringos. I wish I could kill them.” 

“No, mama. Don’t say things like that.” 

“What are you talking about? Look what they’ve done to you!” 

“It wasn’t because they were gringos, mama. It was because they were evil. I have made friends here, mama, and they’ve been good to me, whether they’re Mexican, white, or black.” 

“Black?” Irma seemed surprised to hear this. 

“Yes. I have a friend...” Sofia thought about Walter and it was hard to continue, “He saved our lives, mama. My friend Walter was a good man.” 

Irma understood and she held Sofia’s hand. “I’m sorry, mija. But I can’t forgive this country for putting you in harm’s way. I think you should come back home.” 

“This is my home now, mama. This is the land where my daughter was conceived and born. Her roots reach far south to Puebla, but her soil where she grows is Texan.” 

Irma didn't seem convinced, but she couldn't argue with Sofia any further. At least not now. Yet, she did try to reason with her. 

“But your home? It’s gone now because of the fire. Where will you live?” 

“We’ll build a new home. The land is ours. We own it. Besides, that old homestead was falling apart anyway.” 

“Sofia...” Her mother had something weighing on her mind, “Have you heard the things people are saying about you?” 

Sofia gave her mother a puzzled look. “No, what are they saying?” 

“They’re saying that an act of God saved you; that for miles, people saw swarms of black birds in the sky, flying to rescue you.” 

Sofia didn’t know what to say. She thought about it and remembered what Tlamatini had told her about help coming. Irma continued. 

“Even the police don’t know how to react to it. The media keeps talking about it, elevating the story. It’s even reaching Puebla. And I must admit, I had the strangest dream the night before everything happened.” 

Sofia continued to look perplexed as her mother explained, “I saw him again, Sofia. I never look at pictures of him because it hurts so much. I hardly remembered his face, but when I saw it, the memories – the good memories – all flooded back.” 

“Who, mama?”

“The man I married before your father. I saw him, and I saw your brother. It felt so real. It didn’t feel like a dream. They told me that they were going to protect you. For the first time, I felt like you were safe. But when I heard the news... I realized they meant that you were in trouble and that they would protect you. And when people told the stories of what happened... I believe they did protect you.” 

Sofia stared at Irma, who stared back. She thought about Tlamatini’s words some more; how he told her that the spirits of her loved ones and ancestors were going to help her. She hadn’t thought about her brother that she never met, or his father. 

“You know, Sofia,” Irma sighed, “the man I married the second time may have helped create you, but he was no father. I wish...” tears began to roll down her cheeks, “I wish he never died, and I wish that he made you. He would have been such a good father to you.” 

Sofia smiled. She wiped the tears from her mother’s eyes, and this made Irma smile. 

“It looks like he was there for me. He and my brother.” 

Sofia took her mother’s hand again and Irma cheered up. It made her happy to think that Sofia felt a connection to the family she never got to know. 

A knock came at the door. 

“I apologize, I’m not interrupting am I?” A nurse stood in the doorway. 

“No, it’s fine. Is it time to see Ofelia?” 

“Not yet, Mrs. Trujillo, but I was wondering where you’d like me to put these?” 

The nurse held a box.