Into America: Part 9

The front door into America was closed, but there was always the back door – the desert. Two days passed with José trying to gather enough food to take on the desert. He ran errands for pay, stole the rest, and finally had what he thought was enough. He packed it carefully into his backpack, found a gallon jug of water, and caught a bus west along the border. He got out at Las Polamas and started walking out of town. He needed an empty area, where no one would think of looking for a boy crossing the desert. It was late afternoon and the sun shone down with cruel heat. The desert had no shade and it was not long before he had to start drinking the water he was carrying. “It’ll be better after the sun sets.” José told himself. Finally, as the sun was reaching the edge of the horizon, he began to turn north, going straight across the desert. As long as the light was glowing in the western sky, he knew which direction north was. Then the stars were out and he followed the North Star. But, the desert quickly starts getting cold at night. By midnight, his water jug was half empty and he was dead tired and freezing cold. The ground was covered with sharp rocks, thorns, and cacti and he kept tripping on them in the dark. His shoes were torn and soon his feet were cut and bleeding. “Where am I going?” He wondered, looking around. “Is there a town ahead?”

He stopped to rest, throwing himself on the ice cold sand. “I can’t go any farther.” He whispered, “I can’t.”

But, Roberto was somewhere ahead, waiting in La Mesa. He would wait forever for his brother who died in the desert. No, he couldn’t do that to Roberto. José pulled himself up again and struggled on, limping on his bleeding feet.

In front of him, he saw a line across the desert that shone in the moonlight. It was a dirt road. He hurried towards it, thankful to see this one sign of life. He reached it and walked along it, grateful to have a clear path to walk in. He was tired, so tired. His eyes drifted closed as he walked. It was so quiet and lonely. “Roberto, I’m coming.” José said out loud, just to hear a voice. “Wait for me. I’m coming.”

The sun rose and the heat returned, ten times worse now because he was running out of water. His head ached and his mouth was dry. He began to see pools of water on the horizon that were not really there. They were just mirages. “If only those border patrol guards had let me go! I wouldn’t be out here now in the desert!” He took a rock and threw it down in anger. “I hate you, guards! You only try to kill people!” He looked around, but there was only silence and the empty desert.