Ryan
I couldn’t sleep, and now the bright Mexican sun is rising over the horizon like an obnoxious alarm clock. If it were a different time or place, I’d be mesmerized at the multicolored landscape. Each rock has its own color and the carpet of long green and yellow grass seems to be changing with each movement of the sun. It’s so peaceful and quiet here you’d think we were on a boulder smack-dab in the middle of heaven.
I look down at Dalila finally sleeping peacefully on my lap. I heard her cry in the middle of the night and it tore me apart. I don’t know how we got here and I sure as hell don’t know where I’m going in this beautiful foreign land.
All night I’ve been going through scenarios of why her dad would want to set me up. It just doesn’t make sense. He thinks I’m the enemy.
Unless her father is El Fuego like she said. But why kill Rico and blame me for it? He said he’d kill me if he found out I was working for Las Calaveras cartel. If he knew Rico was a member of Las Calaveras, obviously that was enough for him to kill the guy. If he saw me at the compound and thinks that somehow Rico and I were in on some kind of mission to hurt him or his family . . . that’s the only reason he could have to justify framing me.
Dalila has to be right.
Don Sandoval is connected to Los Reyes del Norte. If he’s the head of the cartel, it makes perfect sense to frame me for Rico’s death. It takes the big, fat target off of his back and puts it on mine.
When a bird flies over us I notice the sun is rising higher in the sky. I’m tired but determined to get Dalila to a safe place tonight so she doesn’t have to sleep on another fucking boulder. I want to protect her so damn bad, but there’s no denying we’re both in danger. If Las Calaveras cartel thinks I killed one of their own and stole money from their crooked Loveland sheriff who is being paid to look the other way, they’ll shoot first and ask questions later.
Actually, they’ll likely torture me first without asking questions.
Meeting up with Don Sandoval or anyone from Los Reyes del Norte won’t be any better. I’ll definitely end up six feet under if either cartel finds me. And if they don’t get me, the Mexican police will likely shoot me or arrest me for allegedly murdering Rico.
“Buenos días,” Dalila says, stretching. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. Why isn’t she afraid of being with me out in the wilderness without any luxuries? No shelter, no food, no hope.
As she sits up, she wraps her arms around herself and shivers.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
I can see the goose bumps on her arms. “Come here,” I say, pulling her close and rubbing her arms to keep her warm. I notice her eyes are still bloodshot and irritated from crying last night.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“I’m going to stay strong,” she tells me. “We’re going to figure something out. We’ll get out of this situation.”
“I think I know why your dad framed me. I think it was to take the target off his back. It’s the only explanation.”
She perks up. “What if I talk to Papá and . . .” She hangs her head low. “I can’t do that. I don’t ever want to see him again after what he did. I swear the past month he’s been a different man than I’ve ever seen before. Ever since he started representing Santiago Vega.”
I convince Dalila that we need to head to Abuela Carmela’s house as soon as possible. As we’re walking I’m all too aware of our surroundings. We’re in a deserted area, but every once in a while we come upon small farm communities. Families with goats and chickens farm their land while their children play in the yards. Most people smile and wave as we pass them. I’m careful to keep a jovial gait, hoping they just see us as typical foreign backpackers walking through their towns instead of two weary, suspicious teens.
Each time we pass one of the small farm communities without causing suspicion, Dalila lets out a sigh of relief.
About two hours into our trek, Dalila slips off her shoes and I notice she’s got blisters on her feet. The sight of them makes something sting inside me.
“We need to take a break,” I tell her.
“No. Let’s keep going. We have to keep going.” I don’t want to admit she resembles Cinderella before the fairy godmother showed up. Her legs are dirty and her face is solemn.
“You’ve got blisters.”
She keeps on walking. “I’m not the delicate girl you think I am. I’m not the first person to have blisters, and I won’t be the last. I’m tough, okay? My emotions might be a mess, but blisters are nothing.”
“How are you gonna walk when the brutal Mexican sun heats the ground in another hour?”
“I’ll figure it out.” Her stomach lets out a loud growl. “We’re going to need food at some point.”
As soon as she says it, I spot a lone chicken running in the distance. At least I think it’s a chicken. Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, which is entirely possible due to lack of sleep.
“That wasn’t a chicken, was it?”
Dalila nods. “That was a chicken.”
We run after it as if our lives depend on it. It runs over a little hill and I chase it, dust flying behind me, until I reach the other side of the hill and freeze in my tracks. “There’s a house.” I motion for Dalila to follow me. “It looks abandoned.”
It’s the very definition of a shack. Four walls and a roof, but that’s about it. At this moment a doghouse would feel like a palace to me.
“You think it’s safe?” she asks with a worried look on her face.
“We haven’t seen anyone for miles.” I look up at the sun. “We need shelter. I’m game if you are.”
She nods. “We can do this.”
I make her stay back while I scout out the shack. As I open the door and peek inside, it’s obvious the place hasn’t been occupied in quite some time. Dust has settled in just about every corner. There’s a table and chairs that look like they’ve seen better days. The rest of the furniture is scattered throughout the tiny structure, as if someone hastily abandoned it and never intended on returning.
Dalila and I spend the remainder of the day indoors. I try to chat with her about nothing and everything just to get her mind off what happened yesterday.
It takes me a long time and a great amount of frustration, but I finally catch the lone chicken. I feel sorry for it, because it kinda reminds me of myself . . . a loner without a chance of survival.
But I’m not alone.
I have Dalila, a girl with a heart so big she’s willing to risk everything to be with me. I think I’m just about the luckiest guy on the planet to have a girl like her by my side. I don’t deserve her, but I sure am glad she doesn’t realize it.
Inside, Dalila sets the table as if a small chicken is a feast fit for a king.
I build a fire out back with some old matches I find in the shack and cook the chicken. “If I had some barbeque sauce or spices I bet it’d taste good and mask the charred flavor,” I say lamely as I bring the thing inside.
She stares at the chicken with a cocked brow. “I like my chicken well done,” she assures me, but I know differently as she pulls apart the leg and takes a small bite. I could watch her all day and never get tired of discovering the little quirks she has. Like when she doesn’t like something, her lips purse just the slightest bit. Or when she wants to laugh hard but restrains herself, she covers her mouth with her hand.
I could find a thousand things to admire about her, and that’d be just the beginning.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks.
“Besides the fact that you’re beautiful? You’re eatin’ that chicken in such dainty pieces you’d think we were at a formal ball.” I grab a piece of meat off the carcass and show her how it’s done.
She shakes her head. “You look like a caveman.”
“At this point I might as well be one.”
She laughs, the sound a welcome change from the grim mood we’ve both had since yesterday. I haven’t heard her laugh since we left her house. I know even though she’s in her own hell right now that she’s worrying about taking some of my misery away. Her smile might brighten up this dingy, dark, abandoned place, but our situation is still hopeless.
After we eat, we’re so exhausted from walking in the heat and sun that we lie down on the old couch together.
She wraps her arms around me and I hold her close. She’s still got that sweet smell of wildflowers and her lips are soft and welcoming. It isn’t long before she settles her head on my chest. The sound of her slow breathing lulls me to sleep. It’s been a long day and I don’t reckon tomorrow will be any better.
“I love you, Ryan,” she whispers as I fall into a deep slumber.
Her words echo through my brain and seep into my soul. For her own safety I’ll have to give her up soon, even though I’d sell my soul to feel this content forever. For the moment, though, I let myself enjoy it.