Into the Beautiful North(41)

“Are we all right?” Nayeli said.

Yolo made a muscle and gave her a double thumbs-up.

Vampi sighed and lay back in the sand.

Tacho said, “Oh yes, m’ija, I am just wonderful.”

The mystery woman said, “I am fine.”

“Who are you?” the coyote demanded.

The pregnant woman said, “Candelaria.”

“You owe me money,” he said.

“I have no money.”

“What, do you think this is a Christian charity, morra? You think I do this for fun?”

“What are you going to do,” Candelaria asked, “walk me back to the fence?”

“Shit!” he said.

Before they could argue more, engines sounded above them. A truck went by, then a big bus. The bridge groaned.

“They’re transporting prisoners,” the coyote said.

A third engine came along. They listened as it came over the bridge. The coyote put his finger to his lips. “Shh!” he said. The engine stopped. “?Chingado!” he said. They heard the radio. They heard the door of the SUV open and slam. The coyote was gone like a tatter of fog. He didn’t even make a sound—just vanished.

“Hey!” Nayeli whispered.

A walkie-talkie muttered above them. She heard a gringo voice say, “Arroyo Seco overpass, over.”

A bright flashlight beam hit the gulleys around them like a ray from a spaceship. Yolo and Vampi and Tacho held hands so hard they thought they’d break their fingers. Vampi was trembling. The light clicked off.

Silence.

A stream of water came off the bridge and hit the ground before them.

The migra was peeing!

They stifled their giggles. They couldn’t believe it. His stream arced over them and formed a puddle. They moved back so they wouldn’t have to touch it. The stream died out. Then: spritz-spritz-spritz. They laughed into their hands.

“Clear,” he said into his radio and slammed the door and drove away.

Tacho fell on the ground and laughed with his feet in the air.

“Welcome,” he gasped, “to America!”





Chapter Sixteen



They stood in the wash beneath the bridge in a loose group. The coyote was gone.

“Now what?” Tacho asked.

Nayeli had to take charge; she knew that. But how? Take charge of what?

“That way is east,” she said. “I think that’s all desert and mountains and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Candelaria said.

“So we should go west. Right?”

“Right, Nayeli,” said Yolo. “We need to go toward the city.”

“Right.”

They stood some more, frozen to the spot. Tacho, for one, recognized they were not heading anywhere. They had used up their momentum.

“We’re going to an American hotel,” he announced.

“Oh, yes!” cried Vampi.

“We’re going to get hot showers and nice American beds.”

“And MTV!” Vampi enthused.

“I can’t believe this chick,” Nayeli said to nobody in particular.

“In the United States,” Candelaria said, “you can flush the toilet paper down the toilet.”

They eyed her skeptically. Everybody in Mexico knew that toilet paper went in a basket by the sink. The plumbing couldn’t deal with paper.

Candelaria shrugged. “What can I say?” she said. “They are advanced here.”

“Well, then,” Tacho announced, “I will flush the toilets, too!”

“Vámonos,” Nayeli ordered.

She climbed the slope and started to walk along the dark road. “Watch for lights,” Candelaria said.

They trudged along, and their fantasies started to come out into the air. The mixed gabble of voices forming a tapestry of sound: “Ice cream. Hamburgers. Bubble baths. American beer. The Sixty-nine Eyes. Disneylandia!”

An ersatz owl began to hoot in the distance.

Nayeli shook her head and laughed in spite of herself: that crazy Atómiko, signaling from the bushes.



Cantinflas is the greatest movie star in the world.”

“Yolo, you’re crazy! Everybody knows Johnny Depp is the greatest movie star.”

“Ay, Nayeli. There you go with your damned Johnny Depp.”

“What about Banderas?”

“Vampi, when did you decide you liked Antonio Banderas?”

“Oye, Vampi—Banderas could be your father.”

“No way. Did you see Banderas in Interview with the Vampire?”

“Oh no, morra. Not that vampire stuff now!”

“Oh, really, Mister Smarty-Pants? So who, in your fine opinion, is the best, Tacho?”

“M’ija. Don’t embarrass yourself. Es la Streep.”

“And you, Candelaria?”

“This is stupid. You should be quiet. You’re not strolling in the park, you know.”

They dashed to the bushes and hid when a helicopter flew over.

It made a terrible racket, its rotors thwacking the air as it slid sideways across the sky above them and turned slowly in midair. A hard beam shot out of it and raked the distant hills. The dark that hit when the beam snapped off was almost as strong as silence. They blinked. The helicopter angled away and churned farther down the line.