Juarez Square and Other Stories (5 page)

Cade twirled his car keys around his finger. “Quitting time?” he asked. Ford nodded and walked to the passenger side of the dust-covered car. Cade hopped in and the Jeep’s motor rattled to life.

As they turned onto the pockmarked highway, the last patches of orange and purple on the horizon faded, surrendering to the desert night. The temperature dropped quickly, and the cool air dried the sweat on Ford’s face and arms, leaving his skin with a salty stickiness.

During his long days in the sweat box, Ford thought of nothing outside the task at hand; the intense training sessions required his full concentration. But during the ride home, his mind had the freedom to wander, and every night his thoughts would turn anxiously toward Esmeralda. They’d hardly spoken since Ford started the job. They shared the same tiny apartment and slept in the same bed, but they were far apart, disconnected. When she looked at him, he felt as if she wasn’t actually seeing him, her eyes focused instead on something far away. He feared she was debating with herself, weighing the odds of going it alone. Taking the baby and leaving him behind.

Cade stopped the car in front of the apartment building. “See you in the morning.”

Ford entered the building, passed the broken elevator, and climbed the six flights of stairs. As he keyed the lock on the door, his heart raced as it did every day at this dreaded moment, when he wasn’t sure if he’d find his family or an empty apartment. He turned the knob, opened the door, and slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

They were still here.

* * *

“Not perfect, but at least I’m not swimming in it anymore.” Ford pivoted back and forth in front of the mirror. His suit jacket, while still overly large, was a better fit than when he’d tried it on a few weeks earlier. He’d regained some his lost weight since he’d started the job with Reverend Wright. The family had regular meals for the first time in months, thanks to a small food allowance from the Fundies. Ford smiled at how nicely Manuelito had filled out. Only a few weeks ago his arms and legs had been horrifyingly thin, little more than sticks, but now they were soft and plump like they were supposed to be.

It was early on Sunday. Esmeralda sat on the edge of the bed, dressing the baby in a ceremonial white gown for his baptism later that morning at
La Iglesia San Felipe
. She wore a simple white dress similar to the one she’d been wearing years ago, the first time he’d seen her. He’d stopped cold in the middle of the outdoor market and stared, suddenly unaware of anything other than this beautiful girl with large brown eyes.

She seemed less rigid this morning, humming a song as she made silly faces at the baby and pulled socks onto his tiny feet.

“Let me see my boy,” he said, reaching out. Esmeralda handed Manuelito to him. Ford bounced the baby and pointed to their reflection in the mirror. “Who’s that handsome boy?” he said, tickling the baby’s stomach. Manuelito squealed in delight, and Esmeralda smiled at the sight of them.

Ford felt her hand on his shoulder. “You’re being careful?” she asked softly.

He turned to look at her. “Yes,
amor
. Very careful.”

She took a deep breath. “How much longer?”

“Just three more days.”

She nodded, and with that smallest of gestures he knew. He knew she wasn’t going to leave without him. A lump formed in his throat as a wave of relief swept over him.

Three more days
. And in five days they’d be at the Red River border crossing, where they’d buy visas and walk across the bridge into Oklahoma, legal and free, the nightmare behind them.

They jumped then exchanged looks at a loud knock on the door. Cade’s voice came from the hallway. “Sorry to bother you on Sunday, but they need you at the airport.”

Ford handed the baby to Esmeralda and leaned toward the door. “Right now?”

“Afraid so.”

Ford looked anxiously at the baby, then to Esmeralda. The baptism was in an hour.

“Look,” Ford said, “can’t you tell them I wasn’t home or something? Or just give me a couple hours? I’ve got someplace to be.”

“Sorry, boss. If we ain’t back there in half an hour, they’ll send somebody to look for you and me both.”

“Great timing, you sons of bitches,” Ford grumbled, leaning his forehead against the door. As he fought the urge to tell Cade to fuck off, again he felt Esmeralda’s hand on his shoulder.

“Go,” she said.

He turned and looked at her. “But Manuelito? I want to be there.”

“I know you do,
amor
.” She pressed her cheek into his back. “You were right,” she said. “It’s be better if we get the visas.”

* * *

Something’s not right
.

Ford and Cade drove through a security checkpoint when they exited the highway, then another at the airport’s entrance. The checkpoints were new; neither had been there the day before. As they drove toward the hangar, the quiet, deserted airport Ford had known the past few weeks was gone. People, cars, and trucks rushed back and forth between the hangar and half a dozen large, newly-erected tents.

“What’s going on?” Ford asked.

Cade parked the Jeep and beeped the horn twice. “Beats me. I thought you knew my place in the scheme of things? Take person A to place B.” Cade watched as a group of hard-faced men passed in front of the Jeep and disappeared into one of the tents. “It ain’t no church bake sale, I can tell you that.”

Reverend Wright emerged from the hangar’s front door, flanked by two bodyguards. He grinned broadly and approached the passenger side of the Jeep. Ford hopped out to greet him.

“This is the man, boys,” Wright announced, spreading his hands wide. “This is the genius who put the hammer in the hand of the righteous.” He shook Ford’s hand vigorously. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

One of the bodyguards removed a bulky envelope from his vest and handed it to Ford. He took a peek inside. It was full of money.

Ford furrowed his brow. The agreed amount was there, but he was supposed to be paid on completion. “Reverend,” he said. “I don’t understand. I thought I had two more engineers to train.”

Wright waved his hand. “Change of plans, son. We needed those boys to go fix a turbine at a natgas plant. I reckon we got more than enough folks up to speed anyway.”

“No doubt, sir,” Ford said, nodding. Over the last several weeks, he’d trained enough people to operate a small country’s air force.

“Sure I can’t talk you into staying on with us?” Wright lifted his eyebrows. “We could surely use a man of your prodigious talents.”

“Thank you, Reverend. I appreciate it, but I have another commitment.”

Wright bowed his head. “I understand. But if you ever reconsider, you’ll be more than welcome.” One of the bodyguards leaned in and whispered something to Wright. The reverend tipped his hat and said, “My apologies for rushing off, but I’m sure you can see we’re quite busy today.” Wright and the bodyguards turned and entered the hangar.

Cade flashed Ford a thumbs up from the Jeep’s driver’s seat. “I guess that’s it,” he said. “Free at last.”

Ford stared at the envelope in his hand, a feeling coming over him like long-held breath, finally released.

It was over.

Somewhere behind them Ford heard a low buzzing noise that quickly grew louder. He recognized the distinctive sound of a Z12 Reaper’s props revving up for takeoff. Moments later the drone appeared and flew overhead, nose up as it climbed into a cloudless blue sky. The frenetic activity around the hangar came to a stop as everyone watched the aircraft gain altitude and slowly turn east. As the sound of the engines faded into the distance, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, sending a shiver down Ford’s back.

No, he told himself. He wouldn’t dwell on it. Guilt was a luxury for the safe and well-fed, and there was no place for guilt in the cruel western desert of the Republic. There was only escape by any means possible.

“You hungry?” Cade asked. “How about some tacos? I’m buying.”

Ford checked the clock on the Jeep’s dashboard. Even if he rushed home, the baptism would be over long before he arrived.

“Sure,” he replied absently, taking one last glance to the spot in the sky where he’d last seen the Reaper.

Minutes later the two men sat on the rooftop patio of
El Caballero Perdedor
, a Tex-Mex eatery in Fort Stockton’s largely abandoned downtown. They were the only customers in the seating area consisting of two bench tables, covered by a large canopy that blocked the blistering midday sun. The server brought over two bottles of beer, frosty cold and dripping with condensation.

“These are on me,” Cade said, clinking his bottle against Ford’s. “You got your envelope today, and I got mine.”

Ford sipped the beer, only half-listening as he pictured the drone, flying somewhere overhead. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said you’re not the only one getting away from those wackos. My six-month contract was up today.”

Cade lifted the bottle and finished half the beer in a single swallow. He shook his head and scowled. “Goddamn monsters, those people. The things I could tell you I’ve seen…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head again, harder this time, like he was trying to dislodge a memory stuck in his mind. He took another long drink.

It then occurred to Ford that Cade might know something about the drone’s mission. “Do you know where that drone was—?”

There was a sudden rumbling noise that sounded like a distant thunderclap. The table vibrated and Ford grabbed his beer bottle to keep it from tipping over. He stood, moved to the edge of the rooftop, and peered eastward toward the sound. Several miles away, a gray-brown cloud shot up from the ground. Ford’s blood ran cold as he realized what was happening.

Cade hadn’t moved. He stared blankly at the table. “Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans,” Cade said. “Wright calls ‘em all heretics. But
Catholics
, he’s got a special hate for them. ‘Them Mary-worshippers would feel the wrath of the righteous.’ Said it with a goddamn smile on his face, the sick son of a bitch.” Cade leaned over and spit on the floor.

What was the target?
Ford tried to form the words, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His body jolted as a second missile hit the same location, sending pieces of buildings and house-sized chunks of earth high into the air.

Ford stood, unable to move. He felt the life drain out of his body as the faraway smoke dissipated, revealing the utter devastation of several square blocks. At the center of the destruction, a pile of smoking rubble had replaced
La Iglesia San Felipe
, where moments before, a crowded sanctuary had been celebrating a baptism.

Juarez Square

“Me?” Diego asked. “What does
El Carnicero
want with me?”

Pedro shrugged. “I don’t know,
guey
. He just told me to come get you. And best not keep him waiting.”

Diego swallowed. He shouldn’t have opened the door.

“Your brother around?” Pedro asked, stepping closer. He craned his neck to look behind Diego into the apartment.

“He’s at work.” Diego backed away from the older boy and closed the door halfway.

Pedro smiled. “What’s the matter, little Diego? You scared without big brother here to protect your ass?”

“
Para nada
,” Diego shot back, raising his chin, trying to look older and braver than his fifteen years.

“Sure you’re not scared,” Pedro mocked.

Diego knew the older boy was baiting him (Pedro wasn’t the cleverest kid in El Cuatro), but even so he couldn’t close the door and hide in the house. That was the kind of thing a scared kid would do.

He swung the door all the way open. “Let’s go.”

The sun blazed down mercilessly from a cloudless sky, baking El Cuatro’s streets with the dry furnace-heat of a south Texas summer. The streets were mostly empty, the locals taking refuge from the midday sun indoors, waiting for the long shadows of late afternoon to bring a few degrees of relief. A scattering of junkies wandered about like zombies, looking for a fix. Beads of sweat formed on Diego’s forearms then quickly evaporated, leaving his skin sticky with salt. He followed the older boy along the cracked, uneven sidewalk toward the south side of town.

Anxious minutes passed as Diego fretted over what
El Carnicero
, the local narco boss, might want with him. But the more he thought about it, the less he worried.

Pedro had always been a prankster. He probably just needed a goalie for a soccer game and he thought it would be fun to mess with Diego’s head. Yes, that had to be it. A soccer game.

“I’m glad your brother wasn’t home,
guey
,” Pedro said. “Lorenzo never woulda let you come with me.” He shook his finger in mock disapproval. “‘Now you be a good boy like me and stay away from those narcos.’”

Diego winced at the insult, but covered it with a chuckle. “He thinks he’s my dad. I can take care of myself.”