Winters & Deadshore: Forbidden Cure

by Thom J Poore

Night has set. The car rises from a gulley along a barren stretch of farmland, bordering a remote village. Emilio sees a white church, with an identical miniature church beside it, standing out amongst the skeletons of abandoned houses. He drives by, trying to fathom the significance of the replica. His train of thought is disrupted by a pot-bellied local cooking fresh chillies over a huge rotisserie by the roadside. The man is wafting the smoky aroma through the air with his stained apron, trying to entice hungry passers-by. The car moves on, racing the occasional tumbleweed past tropical palms and trailer homes surrounded by infertile land and power line terminals. A large green sign draws closer. WELCOME TO SAN LUIS RIO COLORADO is displayed in white block capitals. Karl bursts into floods of tears. Emilio is concerned by the reaction.

  “You gotta pull yourself together, Karl.”

  “I know, I know. I just can’t take this anymore. I'm sorry.

  “Look, we have to act as calm as possible going through border control. If they sense anything is even slightly wrong then they could pull us over to one side and dig deeper. We don’t want anyone asking any questions, Karl.”

  Karl wipes his eyes on his top and mumbles.

  “But what if they do stop us at the border?”

  “Don’t worry. Our documents look totally legitimate, and the guards will be so busy with all the traffic that they won’t even look twice at us. But we have to play it cool.” Emilio says firmly.

  “But will they check the car?”

  “What do you mean?” Emilio feels nervousness creep up into his soul.

  “The car could be stolen.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean. Don’t you remember they said they’d registered the car in my name? They were trying to get us through the border with a large quantity of drugs. It was in their best interest to ensure we got through without any problems.”

  “What if they discover our documents are fakes? Why did I come on this stupid trip? I knew it was a bad idea from the start.”

  “Stop talking so negatively, Karl! Did you not hear what Emilio just said?” Valencia says with frustration.

  Karl starts trying to think rationally and focuses on getting a grip. He begins to breath deeply as he opens the car’s dropdown sun visor. Peering into the small vanity mirror he does his best to adjust himself to try and look as normal as possible. Time evaporates and apprehension grows as the San Luis border control comes into view. Alongside the four lanes of ever-denser traffic corrugated grey metal barriers, just high enough to display advertising billboards, run for miles up to the border control terminals. Each poster for a big brand product is plastered with smaller posters and adverts for local companies, businesses and goods.

  “Why do I feel so darn nervous?” Karl whines.

  “You’re always nervous, Karl.” Valencia sighs, as if she’s known him for years.

  Emilio is starting to think about the drugs he’s stashed away in the trunk. Until now he hadn’t stopped to consider the repercussions his actions could have on his friends. The more he thinks and looks at Karl in a state of distress, the more he despairs.

  “Do I look ok now? Asks Karl, trying his best to compose himself.

  “Yeah, you look fine!” Emilio replies without looking. Emilio’s mouth becomes dry and his palms sweat profusely. He begins to tap his thumbs on the steering wheel anxiously.

  “I’ve got an idea! How about when we get close to the border you guys jump out and walk through on foot. That way you don’t have to worry, just in case there is anything dodgy about the car.” Emilio suggests, not wanting to put his friends at risk.

  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea!” Karl hopes Valencia will agree.

  “No! I say we all stick together.” Valencia folds her arms sternly.

  Emilio feels deflated. He considers stopping and throwing the coke away, but is torn by an all-consuming greed.

  “You guys are going to get out. You’re going to walk across that border. And I’m going to risk taking the car over by myself, just in case. That’s the end of it!”

  “Since when did you become a dictator? And anyway we don’t need the car, Emilio. Once we’re over the border we can just get a coach or something, we still have money, remember.”

  “If we get on a coach we’ll be like sitting ducks. Anyone could track us down and kill us.”

  “They could track us in this car much more easily. Your idea’s worse. They know what car we’re driving. Think about it, Emilio.”

  “Well, what if someone is waiting for us at the border? We’ll need a car to try and outrun anyone who could be there.”

  “Well, Karl and I had better stay in the car then!” Says Valencia smugly, realizing she has won.

  Emilio falls silent, unsure of his next move.

  Chapter 25: Borderline