The man walked forward slowly, his boots thudding on the wooden porch with each step. He came down a few stairs and stopped three risers above the line of coyotes. Hernán could see him finally, and regretted it.
He was not tall, but very thick and muscular. A black wife-beater shirt exposed pale white arms covered in a fever-dream of tattoos—skulls, birds, flowers, crosses. The thick belt running through his jeans had a skull for a buckle. His red hair was closely cropped all over, giving his skull an appearance of being coated in blood. A reddish mustache curved down on either side of his cruel-looking mouth.
“Listen up,” the man said in a loud, rough voice. His accent didn’t sound Mexican. American, Hernán guessed. “I’m Lonnie Heath. This is my house. You made it this far. Not too long to go now.”
He pointed with one hand across the desert. “That’s Texas, a few kilometers away. Before we take you there, the other half of your fee is due. Tomorrow, you call whoever is paying and make arrangements to get the rest of the money to us. When that happens, you finish your trip and we drop you in Houston.”
He swept his gaze over the assembled pollos, stopping when he saw Hernán. His eyes narrowed, and the tip of his tongue ran along his lower lip. Hernán felt his balls shrivel in fear. He knew that look.
Lonnie spoke again, but kept his focus on Hernán. “You get water and lodging while you’re here, but every day we have to feed you gets added to your bill. Understand? The longer your family takes to get us money, the more it’s going to cost them. You’ve got three ways out of here.” He held up the fingers of his left hand to make his point. “One, your family pays in full and we take you the rest of the way. Two, you turn yourself in to the Immigration authorities and take what comes. Three, you head into the desert and take your chances alone. Carlos,” he barked.
“Yes, Lonnie,” one of the muscled coyotes answered.
“How many bodies did we find in the desert this past year?”
“Fifteen, last count.”
Lonnie shook his head. “Fifteen.” He scanned the pollos again, gave a snort, and turned to walk back up the stairs and into the house.
The three large coyotes went into action, barking instructions and herding them all inside. Hernán and his little family stuck close together until they were in a dormitory of sorts on the second floor. It took time, but finally they found three beds together. That would have to do.
Isela stayed with their belongings while Hernán took the children to the bathroom, and then she went herself. There were showers at least, and toilets. Things that he took for granted all his life were luxuries by then.
An elderly woman one bed over introduced herself as Violeta as she fussed over Albert and Andrea. “Such beautiful children,” she praised. “My granddaughter is in California. I’ll be with her soon. You want to see a picture?”
Isela nodded and made appropriate noises at the photo of a little girl in a yellow dress. “How long have you been here?” she asked Violeta.
“Four weeks. But my son is getting the money. He’ll have it soon.”
Hernán asked, “What do we do with our things? I mean, is it safe to leave them here?”
Violeta shrugged. “Usually, but things go missing. I don’t think any of the pollos steal, but the people that run this place…” She shuddered.
“This Lonnie is in charge?” Hernán probed.
“Yes. Well, he has bosses but they don’t come that often.” Violeta lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “I heard he used to be with the American border patrol. He was fired or arrested or something for things he did to people they caught crossing. Then the bosses hired him to work here.”
Hernán shivered.
“What do we do about food?” Isela put in, changing the subject.
“Two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. It’s run like a cafeteria. You can take on other jobs to earn more food, like cleaning the bathrooms or washing dishes.”
Hernán sat beside Albert and Andrea on the single bed he’d been able to find for them. He’d avoided asking many questions so far, but the time had come. “Is there someone to call to get money for you?”
Andrea looked at Albert, bit her lip, and then emptied her pack. Inside, under a torn flap of plastic, a phone number had been written in permanent ink with a name: Miranda López. Hernán nodded. “Good. I’ll help you call.” He looked at Isela. “How about you?”
“My sister,” she said shyly. “She has a good job in San Antonio.”
They sat at dinner with Violeta. The mood was somber anyway, but suddenly the room became entirely silent. Hernán looked around and saw Lonnie walking the perimeter of the dining hall, his hands clasped behind his back. Two of the big coyotes accompanied him. Lonnie’s eyes surveyed his kingdom with a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.
His green, glittering eyes lifted and speared Hernán with his gaze. Hernán’s stomach churned and he fought the urge to flee. The reptilian look from Lonnie scared him like nothing else on the trip.
The next morning, after breakfast, handlers came around to take people, one family at a time, into a room with a phone. Hernán took Albert and Andrea in and dialed the number from Andrea’s pack. After several clicks, the phone connected.
“Hello,” he heard a woman say in English.
“Is this Miranda López?” he asked in Spanish.
“Yes,” she answered, also switching to Spanish. “Who is this?”
“My name is Hernán Portillo. I’m with Albert and Andrea.”
She gave a sharp gasp. “Are they all right? Where are you?”
“They’re scared but they’re okay. I’ve been with them from El Salvador. We’re close to the U.S. border so now you have to get the other half of the fee before the handlers let them move on.”
“You’re sure they’re well?”
“Yes. They’re great kids.”
She sobbed. “My babies. I was so scared but there was no one to bring them to us in Corpus Christi. Javier tried and tried. No one would come. But I need them here.”
Hernán wanted to rage at Miranda. How could she let two little children make that terrible journey alone? What if it hadn’t been Hernán and Isela who got in the car with them?
He kept still though. None of that mattered anymore. He let Albert and Andrea have the phone, and they chattered at their mother, happier than he’d seen them since the trip began. The hardships of the journey already seemed to fade in their minds. Trusting them to strangers and possible saints seemed cavalier to Hernán, but it had worked.
After a minute, though, the coyote snarled, “Enough,” and held out his big paw for the receiver. Albert handed it over, his eyes wide.
The coyote spoke to Miranda in a compassionate tone that nonetheless raised the hair on Hernán’s neck. “These children are small. The way we cross requires long, long walking. I’m not sure they can make it.”
The tone became wheedling. “For an extra fee, we have a different way. We give them American passports for children of about the same age and looks. We put them in a car and drive them over the border. It’s another two thousand dollars each, but much safer for them.
“Of course, we can’t risk them getting nervous at the checkpoint so we have to give them something so they sleep through it.”
Hernán gasped and pulled Albert and Andrea closer to him. Surely their own mother wouldn’t…
The coyote smiled triumphantly at Hernán, dark eyes glittering, as he said, “Good choice.” He gave her the instructions and amount for the money order. “Once we confirm receipt, your children will be on their way.”
Shaken, Hernán took his turn next and called the number he had memorized for his father. It rang.
And rang.
He disconnected and tried again. Still no answer. His heart began to race.
“I must have the number wrong,” he said to the coyote and heard pleading in his own voice.
“Try again tomorrow. Other people are waiting.”
Chapter 16
Hernán barely registered what he was doing until he sank heavily onto his own bed. Albert and Andrea excitedly told Isela they had talked to their mother, but she kept her eye on Hernán.
Softly, she asked, “Is there a problem?”
Hernán didn’t want to discuss the new plan for the children in front of Albert and Andrea. Instead, he swallowed hard and said, “There was no answer at my father’s number. I don’t know anyone else to call.”
She moved over to his bed and put a hand on his. “What about back home? Can you call where you came from and get help?”
The words penetrated his fog. “Maybe,” he said, after some thought. “My uncle. He can tell me if I got the phone number wrong. Or maybe he can find out why no one is answering.”
He focused on Albert and Andrea, their shining faces excited and troubled at the same time. He had no right to interfere though, and no alternative plan, for that matter. They had struggled through long walks already, and barely made it. If the coyote was telling the truth about the last stage, Albert and Andrea might be left behind, abandoned by the other pollos.
The children glanced back and forth between Isela and Hernán, and it seemed to dawn on them things were about to change. Albert started to whimper.
“None of that,” Hernán said kindly, standing so he could scoop the boy up. He pushed away his own worries to give his attention to the children. “You get to see your mother soon. You and Andrea are going to start a new life.” Albert tightened his arms around Hernán’s neck.
“Can you come live with us?” Andrea asked plaintively. “Mamá and Papá will let you.”
Hernán smiled at her. “We’ll see.” He glanced at Isela. “I forgot to ask you. Did you get your sister?”
Isela looked down at the bed and brushed a hand over the thin blanket. “She doesn’t have all the money yet. But soon, she said.”
“Well, we’ll at least keep each other company for a while,” he said with forced brightness, meeting her eye and tilting his head at Albert and Andrea. She nodded. They kept the conversation light, chattering about things that had happened on their journey. Violeta joined in.
It wasn’t long before Albert and Andrea fell asleep. Hernán’s throat felt tight as he tucked them under the blanket, maybe for the last time. Only then did he tell Isela in a low voice what the children’s mother had decided to do.
Looking at the backs of her hands in her lap, Isela said softly, “So much money. But if I had it, I’d try the new route too. Even if they had to drug me to get me over the border.”
Hernán didn’t know what to say. He’d cared for Albert and Andrea for nine days. Still, that gave him no right to dictate how they should cross.
He muttered a prayer that night to Santa Muerte. She’d been good to them all so far. Well, for the most part.
The next day, when he was summoned to the phone room, he tried his father’s number again. Still no answer. Then he called his uncle Juan.
When the call connected, he almost sobbed in relief. “Tío,” he said. “It’s Hernán.”
“Where are you? Did you make it?”
“I’m in Mexico, at a way-station. I can’t go on until the handlers have the rest of the money but I didn’t get an answer when I called the number you gave me for my father.” He repeated the digits to make sure he had them right.
Juan blew out air in frustration. “Pedro probably fucked up. Look, I’ll start calling. Track him down or…something. I don’t know. Can I call you back?”
Hernán checked but had to tell his uncle no. “They’ll let me call you once a day.”
“Okay. Call tomorrow and I’ll try to have some answers.”
That afternoon, he sat outside with Isela, Violeta and the children when one of the smugglers came to find them. “The money order for the new route came through.” He smiled at Albert and Andrea, though it looked more like a rictus than a grin. “You’re a lucky boy and girl. Tonight you will go to sleep, and when you wake up you will be with your mamá.”
Hernán helped them pack their bags. Isela dropped to her knees to kiss them goodbye. Hernán picked them up, first Andrea then Albert, for a last hug. Then it was time for Albert and Andrea to leave for the brazen route through the checkpoint. Two coyotes would drive them across the border and into the States, to deliver to their mother’s house.
If they made it.
The handler from earlier in the day brought water and some pills. Albert didn’t want to take them, and the man grew angry.
Before it got to the point he forced the capsules down Albert’s throat, Hernán realized what he had to do. Guilt and shame churned in his belly, sickening him, as he crouched to hug the children and kiss their brows.
“Be careful,” he whispered, hearing the quaver in his voice. “You’re almost there. Your mother wants you to take this medicine, okay? It’ll help you rest for the long ride. Don’t you wish we had something like this when we were on the bus before?”
He hated himself when Albert took the pills and swallowed them down with some water. Andrea complied as well, her wide, trusting eyes on Hernán’s as she held her glass with two little hands. He wanted to weep at his betrayal.
The children looked back once more as they climbed into the van with the smugglers. The door slid closed, and it took off in a cloud of dust.
And then Albert and Andrea were gone.
Hernán called his uncle Juan every day but he had no news. Isela kept checking as well, but her sister said it was going to take a few more weeks to raise the funds.
The coyotes kept looking at pretty Isela. She huddled as much into herself as possible, and kept her hair forward to hide as best she could, but Hernán knew she felt the weight of the stares.
He knew, because he felt the same thing when Lonnie patrolled the dining room each morning and each night. And when Hernán spotted him during the day, as he went about the chores he’d taken on to get more food for himself, Isela and Violeta.
On the third day after the children left, he was working outside when he heard two of the handlers arguing with a much older man who looked indigenous. Their voices rose louder and louder, but it seemed clear the man didn’t understand. He cried out something in words that sounded to Hernán like Zapoteco.
One of the handlers shoved him, and Hernán dropped his rake to run over.
“I can try to talk to him for you, I think,” he said, desperate to end the fight before it began. In halting Zapoteco, he said to the elderly man, “Can I help?”
The man gaped at him as his wide eyes ran back and forth over the two taller smugglers. Eventually Hernán pieced together that the man was trying to explain one of the Mexican border patrol groups had changed its route, bringing it too close to the stopover point where the man was in charge.
Hernán translated to Spanish. One of the smugglers nodded and then jogged up to the house, returning with the big coyote named Carlos. He listened to Hernán, arms folded across his huge chest. Then he gave a series of instructions, which Hernán managed to translate to Zapoteco. Eventually the man left with his new orders.
Carlos gestured with his chin at Hernán and said to one of the smugglers, “Give him an extra portion tonight for his help.”
Afterward, they used Hernán a few more times to translate instructions and convey information, either in person or over the phone.
After a week, Juan finally had some news to share. “Pedro was picked up by ICE and he’s going to be deported, the asshole. He’s in detention, apparently. Elías is trying to raise the rest of what we need.”
“What about my mother?”
Juan sounded embarrassed. “She won’t send any money. She says with Pedro gone, she can’t afford anything.”
Rage and grief surged through Hernán. His parents had abandoned him to his bitter old grandmother, they’d barely contacted him, and when he truly needed them…
He sagged in the chair where he sat in the phone room. Why should he be surprise
d? The only one who had ever seemed to want to help him was Juan. Maybe Abuela was right. He was just a worthless fag.
“Look, Hernán. Hold on. We’re doing everything we can. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Tío.”
Two nights later, the coyotes came. They wandered into the dormitory where he and Isela had beds. A quiet man had claimed the bed Albert and Andrea used to share.
Isela saw the handlers first, and went very still. Hernán looked up too. His heart thudded painfully as he watched the men circle the edges but come closer and closer toward their corner of the room.
He sat next to Isela, their thighs pressed together. She clutched his hand and kept her eyes on the blanket. He saw her lips moving in prayer.
The men were so much bigger than him. If he tried to stop them from taking Isela, they’d beat him and still do what they wanted.
Then the coyotes halted by the bed where they sat together. The bigger of the two reached out and grabbed Hernán by the shoulder. His blood turned to ice, his bowels to water.
Isela looked on, mouth open wide, as the handler pulled Hernán to his feet. Violeta said a prayer aloud to Mother Mary until the second handler shot her a glare. She shut up.
They pulled Hernán roughly out of the dormitory and up the staircase to the third floor. Down a corridor to a set of double doors. They knocked.
Hernán heard Lonnie’s voice call, “Enter.” The sound chilled him to the bone. The coyotes opened the doors, brought him inside, and closed the doors behind themselves again.
Lonnie lay sprawled on a leather sofa, patched in places with duct tape. A big bed stood against one wall. Hernán tried very hard not to look at it. A desk, bookcases, other furniture… It didn’t matter. Lonnie stood and came closer.
He looked up and down Hernán’s body and nodded slowly. “That steak for dinner was good. Wasn’t it, boys?”
The handler to his left chuckled and said, “Yeah. Good steak.” Hernán and the others had eaten beans and rice.
Asylum (Pride and Joy Book 2) Page 17
