Emiliano stops to check his compass. He looks to his right and locates the sun. They have maybe four hours before the temperature reaches somewhere in the eighties. The eighties of March are not the one hundred and change of August, but it’s still hot enough to kill you. He takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair, and feels the moisture in his scalp. He reaches back, takes the bottle of water from the side of his backpack, and drinks. He gestures for Sara to do the same. When she finishes drinking, he looks at her feet. “How are the shoes?”
“They’re bored from going so slow. We’re never going to get there at this rate.”
“Are you hungry?”
“A little. You must be too. We haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”
Emiliano takes two protein bars from the same pocket where he keeps his water bottle. He hands one to Sara and starts to unwrap the other.
“We didn’t pack much food,” Sara says. The slight alteration in direction that Emiliano made after he checked his compass has given them enough space to walk side by side.
Emiliano waits until he finishes chewing. “Food’s not that important. The important thing is water. Food requires digestion and digestion uses water needed by your muscles.”
“And your brain. That needs water too.”
“No, not your brain. The less you use your brain, the better.”
Sara speeds up but Emiliano maintains the same pace. “You don’t need to baby me,” she says. “I’m in pretty good shape.”
“I’m not babying you.”
“Would you be doing anything different right now if I wasn’t here?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t be talking.”
“No, seriously. Would you be walking any faster?”
“No.”
“Really. You wouldn’t be walking faster?”
“No. If I were alone, I might go a little farther today than I will with you, but not that much.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“Believe me.”
The path they’re on narrows again and Emiliano pulls ahead.
Sara reflects after a few minutes of walking: Maybe it’s not such a good idea to push Emiliano to go faster. The more time she’s out here with him, the more time he’ll have to realize that living with Papá may be what is best for him at this moment in his life. In the United States, you can be the Emiliano God wants you to be. What did Mami see or sense in him to make her say that? Why was Emiliano reading Papá’s letters the night after the party? All that Sara can think of is that he was seeking guidance for some grave decision he needed to make.
Emiliano motions for Sara to stop. He looks up, tilts his head. After a few moments, he kneels beneath the outstretched arms of a tall cactus. Sara does the same.
“What is it?” Sara whispers.
“A car,” Emiliano answers in a normal voice. He lies on the ground behind a small mound of red dirt and brush. He motions for Sara to lie down as well. They see the dust of a vehicle traveling south on the dirt road they want to take north. “That’s strange.”
“What?”
“Brother Patricio said no one uses this road anymore.”
“Looks like a sports car,” Sara says, squinting. They watch in silence as the black car reaches the southern end of the road and then stops. No one gets out. “What are they doing? Just sitting there? There’s nothing to see.”
Emiliano points to a small rectangle of shade under a cactus. They crawl there and sit. “We’ll have to wait until they leave.”
“Is it the Border Patrol?”
“In a Corvette?”
“You can see what kind of car it is?”
“It’s easy to make out the shape of a Corvette,” Emiliano says. He looks concerned. It’s the first time on this trip that Sara has seen fear on his face. “It’s not the kind of car that someone visiting the park would drive on that road.”
“Then who?” Sara asks, now afraid herself. “Maybe they’re smugglers and they’re waiting for a shipment of drugs.”
Emiliano remembers the fast-looking car parked in Armando’s garage. That was a black car as well. But Armando’s car was smaller, a Porsche maybe.
“They’re getting out,” Sara whispers.
In the distance, Emiliano sees a man with a black cowboy hat emerge from the driver’s side and a man with a brown hat from the other side. The man with the black hat is wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket. The man with the brown hat has a beige jacket. Who wears jackets in the desert? They stand in front of the car, looking toward the river. Then the man with the black hat turns and looks in their direction. Emiliano presses his face against the dirt and pushes Sara’s head down as well.
“Are they coming over here?” Sara asks.
“Shhh.” The men are a good quarter of a mile away, but sound travels far in the desert. Emiliano looks behind them. Other than the small mound of dirt they’re on, there’s no place to hide until you get to the cliffs near the river. He raises his head slowly. Now both men are looking straight at them. One of them reaches into the car and takes out a pair of sunglasses. “I think they saw us,” Emiliano whispers. “If they start walking this way, we run back to the river. Leave the backpacks and run.”
“Who are they? Do you think they’re looking for us?”
Emiliano can hear the same fear in Sara’s voice that he feels in his chest. He needs to calm down so he can think clearly. People wear those kinds of light jackets to hide the pistols on their hips. Maybe they’re undercover Border Patrol agents, but why would the Border Patrol need to hide their identity? And why would they risk ruining the suspension on an expensive car? It’s impossible that the men are looking for them. Who knew where they were going to cross? No one. They didn’t tell anyone their plans. Did they?
“Are they still there?” Sara asks, her face pressed to the dirt.
Emiliano takes off his hat and sunglasses and raises his head slowly. The men are conferring with each other. He notices a pair of binoculars hanging from the neck of the man with the brown hat. With binoculars, it would have been easy to see Sara and him make their way from the cliffs above the river.
The good news is, there is no way that they can use the car to catch them on this path, and if they come on foot, he’s sure they can outrun them. He’ll let Sara run ahead, and if they catch up to him, he’ll do whatever needs to be done so she’s not caught.
“Remember that place where I showed you the dove’s eggs?” he says. “If we need to run, head back to that spot and crouch in the cane.”
“What about you?”
Emiliano doesn’t answer. He watches the men approach the edge of the road. They seem to be contemplating the distance they would need to cover to get to Emiliano and Sara, and they’re not the type of men who like to get their shoes dirty, he thinks.
He’s right. The two men get back into the car. They turn it around and drive slowly away.
“Are they gone?”
Emiliano kneels on the ground and Sara lifts herself up to sit. They watch the car until it is a dot in the distance.