by David Nees
He drove the men through the night. Without the large, desert tires and beefed up suspension, the truck would have already broken down under the load. As it was the suspension was challenged to handle the weight.
Another man died during the night. Now the men were voicing complaints even with their limited ability to talk.
“We are too far into this desert to go back,” Ramón told them. “And do you want to face Hector and tell him you could not go far enough to capture this gringo? Do you want to face Carlos? He would like to make you feel some pain for your failure.” The men backed off their demands. No one wanted to be in the hands of Carlos.
“We are going day and night. This gringo cannot do that. He is not some super hero, el superhombre. He does not have super powers. He is a man like us and thirsts like us. Let’s catch him, kill him and take his water.” It was as much of a speech as Ramón could muster. The men got back in the truck and they set out.
The next day another man died.
On the third day three men said they would go no further.
“Do you want me to shoot you?” Ramón asked.
“You can try. Or maybe we shoot you?” came the surly reply.
“You will die without the truck.”
“We will die with the truck. We are going west with what strength we have left.” One of the men pointed to the foothills that loomed miles away to the west. “There may be water there. You can see things growing on the hills.”
“You will never make it,” Ramón declared.
“Maybe, maybe not, but it is better to try than to continue north. North, there is nothing but death.”
The three stood looking at Ramón. Each man held a weapon at ready. Ramón thought for a moment. It was useless to shoot them. He would have to kill all of them and might be killed himself. They were of no use any more and as good as dead.
“Go then. You are all dogs, not worth saving. You are dead men. But if you make it out, watch for me. I will be coming for you.”
“If you make it out yourself, fool.” The men turned and walked into the desert.
Ramón was down to six men. One man died before evening. As the sun was going down, another man said he was heading west, after the others. Ramón did not even try to talk him out of it. He had no energy and talking was too hard.
There were only four of them left now. The truck rode much better and they made better time. Ramón drove hard through the night. We will catch him soon. The thought encouraged him. But in the back of his mind was the question of what he would do after that. How would he get out of this empty desert?
When Ramón could drive no further, he changed with one of the other men and slumped against the door, trying to sleep. Sleep would not come in the bouncing cab, but he forced his eyes to close. The truck bounced along, faster now with the lightened load. Ramón cursed the men who had left. He could have brought the extra weapons if he knew they were going to desert him. Now it was too late.
The men drove on through the day. Ramón was glad he had brought along the extra gas cans. He was also glad he had hid some extra water under the seat. It was not enough for everyone, but it would be enough to keep Ramón and a few close comrades alive.
Chapter 18
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W ithin an hour of setting out, Dan’s ankle was throbbing. His limp became more and more pronounced as the night wore on. Have to make progress while it’s dark so I can hole up somewhere during the hottest part of the day. He still worried about the pursuit he knew was somewhere behind him. He was rationing his water, drinking just enough to keep him going but not nearly enough to slake his thirst. That was the only way to stretch out his trek to where he, hopefully, would find water.
His mind began to wander as he stumbled along. He kept his eye on the North Star, low on the horizon at this latitude. If not careful, he could easily start walking in a circle; he’d read many stories about people lost in the desert. One foot, one leg, one side of the body is dominant and when your focus faltered, you started walking in a slow circle, going nowhere. Dan shivered in the cold of the desert night. Don’t need that to happen. Gonna be tough enough to get out as it is. There were low hills on the horizon. He kept his eyes on them. If they held any water he’d make it. If he found no water, he wouldn’t. His mind kept coming to that inescapable conclusion. His options had closed down to one final, binary outcome; an outcome which he didn’t control.
Visions of Rita kept coming and going, floating before him, hazy and indistinct, but unmistakably her. Not a very good end is it? He thought as he gazed at her. Not quite the heroic warrior, fighting against terrorism. Just the killer of a drug lord, dying in the desert. A wave of regret washed over him. But where else could he have gone? He didn’t know. But he told himself he hadn’t screwed up this first assignment. He’d done what he set out to do. The challenge was to not make this one his first and last.
Keep walking. Don’t ever quit. The words came through the clear night air. Dan wasn’t sure that he didn’t hear them spoken out loud, as if Rita were speaking to him. But of course she couldn’t. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him. Still it was encouraging. He kept shuffling forward, favoring his left ankle.
As the sun lit the sky, Dan limped ever more slowly. His ankle throbbed with pain. He looked for a place to stop; a place to get out of the sun and rest his ankle. His lips were cracked and swollen. He could not swallow. There was no more saliva so it was useless to try to eat anything. Besides, he had no appetite, only a raging thirst. The visage of Rita that had accompanied him on and off through the night, encouraging him, was replaced by visions of flowing water, waterfalls and clear, bubbling water flowing over clean stones. They promised refreshment and replenishment to his body. But the reality around him was only dust, sand and rocks, burned by the ever relentless sun.
Dan shuffled over to a large boulder and dropped to the ground in its shade. As the sun moved across the sky, he would slide around the rock, keeping to the meager shade it could provide. Just rest for now. I’ll be able to walk again later in the afternoon.
Just before dawn after driving all night with just the four of them, Ramón’s headlights picked out Dan’s truck. He shoved the man next to him and told him to wake the two in the back. They pulled up, weapons ready. They got out and slowly approached the pickup. Ramón was careful, but he had already concluded the gringo was not there.
He tried to smile but with his cracked and burned lips it came out as a vicious smirk.
“The gringo is on foot. Today we will catch up to him.”
There was no response from the others except to nod in agreement. Most figured the chase was now almost over. But how they would escape the desert was a question that still lurked in the back of their minds.
“Vámonos.” Ramón got into the truck. He drove faster now. He was tired and it was still dark but he was closing in and the hunter in him wanted to catch his quarry. Hector would be proud and they would deal harshly with those sons of bitches who had abandoned the chase. They would not spare their families either. All would die, painfully. A strong message needed to be delivered: there could be no defection in the ranks.
He pushed the truck ever faster, slamming into the rocks when he couldn’t avoid them. The other men bounced around in the cab and held on as best they could. Dust blew through the truck, almost blinding everyone, including Ramón. The four-wheel drive machine with its large desert tires flew across the ground seemingly impervious to the rocks and uneven terrain. Ramón hunched himself over the steering wheel, now driven by a newfound energy.
The ground rose slowly without slowing the truck. Ramón kept his eyes focused on signs of the two-track. He didn’t want to lose the trail in the night and have to retrace his route. As the truck skidded around a curve, the inside front wheel hit a large boulder half buried in the sand. It tipped up on its side. Ramón was slow to counter steer to get the center of gravity back under the frame. The truck went highe
r and higher. Ramón let off the accelerator and touched the brakes. This caused the outside front wheel to tuck under, sending the truck into a roll. Over it went and down the slope, tumbling over and over. A door flew open and a body flew out only to be crushed by the truck. Gas cans and weapons flew out from the bed of the pickup. When it stopped rolling it lay on its right side, crushing open a gas can that had been thrown out of the back. The gasoline spread under the overheated engine. There was danger of it catching fire.
Inside Ramón was slumped over the center console. The front passenger was not there, having been thrown to his death during the rolls. One of the men in the back, Rodrigo, lay against the right side of the truck, jammed up against another man whose head was tilted at an unnatural angle. Rodrigo could smell the gasoline spreading underneath the truck. He had to get out. He reached up and pushed against the left rear door. It would not budge. Thankfully the window was down. He began to crawl out. When he was halfway free of the truck he remembered what Ramón had said about having extra water stashed under the seat.
Was it worth going back into the cab? Could he retrieve the water before the truck started to burn? He would probably die without the water, so he decided to try. He slid back inside and dug under the seat in front of him. With the truck on its side he had to stand on the body of the man that had been sitting next to him. Rodrigo tried not to think about his feet crunching against the man’s chest and face. He dug under the seat and pulled six plastic bottles free, tossing them through the open window. There were more, but he could not free them. There was a sharp whomp as the gasoline ignited. He had to go. Rodrigo climbed back out of the window out and let himself down to the ground. He quickly gathered the six bottles and staggered uphill a safe distance away.
His head was spinning and he felt bruised all over. He sat down as the fire flashed and filled the truck. Rodrigo didn’t know if Ramón was alive, but it didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he was alive, but alone and lost in the desert. He gathered the precious water bottles and pulled them to his chest. He sat on the hillside and watched the truck burn. His mind was numbed from the shock of the accident; he could only sit and stare at the fiery coffin below him.
When the sun cleared the hills to the east, Rodrigo stood up. He put the water bottles in his pockets. He had no weapons except for the .45 pistol in a holster at his side. Slowly he climbed back up the slope and stood on the trail. It still went north. Did the gringo go north? If he ran into him would he be killed? This phantom gringo that no one had seen and lived to tell about was out there ahead of him. Rodrigo dropped the thought. It was useless. The gringo could walk as fast as he and had a head start. They would never run into each other. His decision had to be which way to go, west or north.
He figured that if he drank a bottle a day it would keep him alive and he would have six days to find his way out of this cursed desert. At the top of the rise, he scanned the horizon. The hills to the north looked closer than those to the west. And to Rodrigo’s way of thinking, following a trail, no matter how faint, was better off then heading further into the trackless wilderness to the west. A trail, no matter how old, generally went somewhere, came out somewhere. He would rely on that assumption. He would walk north.
He had no family except for his sister and her ten-year-old daughter. Rodrigo knew he had to get back for her sake. Carlos, the torturer, had had his eye on Miranda for some time. She was twenty-six and pretty. Carlos wouldn’t try anything while Rodrigo was around. Rodrigo had been a sicario, a hitman, who had risen through the ranks. He was in charge of Chihuahua area, directing the falcones, the eyes and ears on the streets. Hector knew who he was and Rodrigo knew Carlos had to respect his rank and not cross him directly. But if Rodrigo died in the desert, Miranda would have no one to protect her. Carlos would move in, forcefully even, and take her even as he would try to take over control of Chihuahua. Rodrigo shuddered at the thought. And his niece, Solana? Carlos was not above taking her as well.
Chapter 19
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T he boulder offered only a stingy amount of shade. Dan sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. There was no way to elevate his ankle, but just taking his weight off of it helped. He tried to sleep but sleep wouldn’t come. A part of him feared going to sleep. Would it be the same as going to sleep when caught out in the cold? You might never wake up? He didn’t know and his mind could not process the question.
At one point he did drop off to sleep but a raucous cry startled him awake. There, on a rock, ten yards away from where he sat was a raven. Dan stared at it. His mind, now dull with dehydration and heat struggled to understand what he was seeing. The thought finally came again. Was the bird looking so see if he was carrion, ready to be picked over? The bird was definitely watching him. It turned its head from one side to the other. It had one black eye, gleaming like a dark jewel, and one red eye.
Red eye! The first raven had one red eye. The one he had given some water to. Did all ravens have multicolored eyes? Dan’s mind struggled with the thought. This could not be the same bird. He was a good eighty miles away from where he had seen the previous one.
The sun had slipped lower in the sky. Dan was not in the shade anymore but the worst of the day’s heat was past. Suddenly the raven leapt up and flew towards Dan. He ducked and threw out his hands to ward it off. It had a wing span of over four feet and long, sharp claws. The bird swooped close to Dan and then up to the top of the boulder he was sitting against. It began to squawk at him. Dan looked up and the bird acted as if it was going to attack him again. Dan cringed away to protect his face.
The raven flew down to the ground. It started to walk towards Dan. Along the way it jumped into the air in a flurry of wings. Dan finally concluded that the bird was going to give him no peace. He slowly got to his feet. His head was spinning. He leaned against the rock to steady himself.
Now the bird flew off to the north, the direction Dan had been walking. It went only a dozen yards and stopped. It looked back at Dan and flew another couple of yards, then looked back again. A thought formed in Dan’s muddled mind. Is this bird telling me to get up and go…in that direction? The thought seemed outrageous. He must be delirious. Still it seemed to be urging action. Walk, he finally said to himself. The words from Rita the previous night came back to him. Don’t ever quit. He limped forward. When he started moving the raven gave a loud cry and flew off, to the north.
Dan plodded through the night. His mind wandered but he made himself check his orientation to the North Star regularly. His path wasn’t straight, but he hadn’t started wandering in circles. His limp increased as the pain increased but he kept shuffling one foot after the other. Occasionally he stumbled on a rock and fell to the ground. It took long minutes for him to get back up. The temptation grew to just lie there; the night was cool, even chilly but the sand gave back a little warmth. Rita’s voice kept coming back to him with the same message. Don’t ever quit.
He forced himself up against a growing desire to stop and started forward again. To move was to survive, to live. To stop was to give in and die. Dan figured he would die trying; that was the least he could do. Or was it the best he could do now? His confused thoughts could not make sense of things. Only that he had completed his task and then failed to escape.
Jane’ll have to find another assassin. Made a mess of it.
The night wore on, the limp increased, the shuffling slowed. Dan’s breath came in harsh rasps. His cracked lips could form no words. There was no moisture to wet them anymore. His face, what he could sense of it, felt like leather; dry and dust covered. With each stumble, now coming more frequently, it took longer to get back on his feet. Finally the sky lightened in the east.
Can stop soon. The thought gave him some relief. In the back of his mind though, a certainty grew that he might not get back up after this day.
He came upon some rock outcroppings. The land was now hillier, lumpier. He was out of the flat pan o
f the desert floor. Still he saw no vegetation that might signal water. He was at a slight rise. The ground sloped gradually away to the north and where it flattened out. These hills didn’t fulfill the hoped for promise. He looked out over the flat expanse further out in front of him and would have cried if he had enough moisture for tears. Instead he limped over to a rock that promised some shade and slumped to the ground. He could go no farther. While one part of his mind kept repeating the mantra to not quit, another part slipped into acquiescence of his fate. He did not have the ability to walk across that looming expanse to the north. He would die here.
The light grew but did not improve the scene nor Dan’s situation. There was no water and he had an even more barren, dry landscape in front of him. There was nothing in retreat and nothing in going forward.
If you’re gonna die, die out there, not here. The voice in his mind; Rita’s, his, he couldn’t tell anymore; it began to speak over and over against his fatigue and thirst. What’s the use? Who cares? He answered back.
Dan sat and stared out at his death; the looming expanse in front of him. The slight rise he had navigated continued to his west but showed no sign of water. It became even more rocky and difficult to traverse. To the north and now, to the east it just gradually sloped away to another flat pan. There was no other way to go.
The sun was now full in the east. With it came the raven. It did not surprise Dan. Somehow he thought the bird might return. Nothing made sense now in this heat and emptiness, so why should it be odd to have a raven come along to witness his death? But the bird was not sitting to witness. It flew at Dan with its harsh cry. Over and over until Dan turned over on his hands and knees and slowly levered himself upright.
