“How?” I asked.
She smiled as if she was waiting for me to ask and flew out of the cell. I had to run to keep up with her. Unable to see her, George panicked and followed close behind me. We went through our building and out onto the Pen campus. We ran down the main road until we reached the Administration building. Like a parade, I followed my great-great-grandmother’s spirit, and George followed me. We entered the prison administration building, took a quick turn, and went down another hallway.
Great-great-grandmother went to the hoarding assistant warden’s office. She stopped behind the woman’s desk and pointed to the wall. There was a cheap reproduction on the wall of the historic Jornada del Muerto desert. She pointed to a label on the map, and then to a book that magically still sat on the assistant warden’s bookshelf. I picked up the book.
The title read Part-time Soldiers, Brave Soldiers: The History of the New Mexican National Guard by Oswald Vega. I shrugged. My great-great-grandmother pointed to the assistant warden’s nameplate. It said: Trudy Vega. This assistant warden must have been related to the author of the book.
The book pages began to flip in my hand. My great-great-grandmother was going through the pages until it fell open to a page that discussed the area next to the prison. Before the Great Human Transition, that area had housed the New Mexico National Guard. The properties were adjacent but not connected. There was a fence in between.
I looked at my great-great-grandmother for a second, and she nodded. George grunted and gestured to something on the page. I looked down.
There was a large supply tunnel into the National Guard area. The black and white photo showed a wide concrete tunnel lined with every kind of vehicle and even tanks. The text said the tunnel went from under the National Guards area to the open road.
“Emil,” my great-great-grandmother said, speaking my name.
It had been such a long time since I’d heard my own name that I didn’t look up. George tapped me on the arm. I looked at him, and he pointed toward where he’d heard the sound. I looked at my great-great-grandmother.
“You must leave as soon as possible,” she said and disappeared.
I stared at the spot where she had been for a long time. George touched my shoulder. I looked at him and told him it was time to go. George pointed to the book, and I nodded. He shook his head and pointed again. I shook my head because I had no idea what he was talking about. George gestured for us to check this new route first, and I nodded.
He started toward the door. At the door to the assistant warden’s office, he waved for me to follow him. Without saying another word, we left the assistant warden’s office. We went through the administration building and out into the sunshine. Seeing us, the wasps howled!
George took off across the compound. We ran out of the administration building and down the road toward the fence. George veered off a few feet from the fence. He went to what had been a building sometime in the 1900s. The only thing that remained was the outline of a foundation. Next to the foundation was a set of six-foot-by-four-foot steel doors set in the dirt. George pointed to the doors.
The doors were locked closed. There was a chain thread through the door handles and a heavy steel padlock holding the chains together. I picked up the lock and shook my head. We weren’t going in that way.
George made an irritated sound and pointed to the hinges of the doors. The hinges had rotted in the desert heat. George lifted the metal doors as one unit and I slipped underneath into some kind of root cellar. He followed me into the root cellar. We waited for a few minutes until our eyes adjusted. Then George took off to the end of the root cellar and turned right.
Much to my amazement, there was another set of metal doors. The locks had been broken some time ago. George put his finger to his lips and pressed his head against the metal doors. He nodded to me. He glanced at me before opening the doors. He waved for me to follow him, which I did.
I stepped into a cement box. It was much darker in this cement box. I could hear George moving around. In a moment, the overhead lights came on.
I was standing in the National Guard’s tunnels that went out to the streets. The tunnels were lined with vehicles of every size. George waved me to the end where a large four-wheel drive, medium-sized personnel carrier was parked. George got in and turned the key.
The truck started. George’s grin told me that he’d used this truck to get our supplies. I walked around it. It already had puncture-proof tires. I lay down on the ground to see if George had modified this vehicle. He had. I told him that it was missing our flame throwers.
He grinned at me and turned off the truck. He pointed to the wall of the tunnel. There was a line of propane tanks along the wall. He’d gotten the propane tanks we were using from here. I nodded. He pointed again. The corner of the tunnel was an ammunitions depot. We could stock up on ammunition and weapons here.
He held up two fingers to indicate that he could have the truck ready to go in two hours.
Two hours.
I didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. George just grinned at me.
We have worked for years to get ready for this exact moment. And now it was time.
While he worked on the truck, I led the horses into the root cellar. They weren’t thrilled with being underground, but they’d learned to trust me enough to follow my lead. They both seemed relieved to make it into the National Guard tunnel. I turned them over to George, who had rigged a small trailer for them. The horses would ride inside the trailer behind the personnel carrier. I returned to our hallway to pack the rest of our gear.
We are really leaving! I am not taking this typewriter. We just don’t have the room. I’m hoping to continue this journal using a pen. (George found me a box of pens in the National Guard’s supply cabinet.) I will take what’s left of the coveted ream of paper.
Our journey begins at dawn. Thirty miles to the Pecos Pueblo.
Jornada del Muerto: Prisoner Days Page 9
