The Road to Nowhere

The Road to Nowhere

Patrick, Tannenhaus, Hernández Sophomore Team, 2016

Editors:Lydia AmanielGriffin BenitezGenevie Casino

Annika ConstantinoMatthew Fayad

Samantha HarmerAlec Johnson

Nicholas JosephPhillippe de Kervor

Garrett LaytonRicardo Loeza

Fehung LyKobe ManguilIsabel Murillo

Jennifer ResendizMorgan Robinson

Darian RoblesNoah ShedrickAlex WesselIsrael Zamora

Cover Design:Noah Shedrick

Copyright © 2016 by Patrick, Tannenhaus, Hernández Sophomore Team

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2016

ISBN 978-1-365-12065-7

Patrick, Tannenhaus, Hernández Sophomore Team High Tech High, 2861 Womble RoadSan Diego, California, 92106

www.matthewdpatrick.weebly.com

Ordering Information:

Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, educators, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the above listed address.

U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers: Please contact Matt Patrick, (760) 718-2186 or email mpatrick@hightechhigh.org

Contents

Preface…………………………………………………………..1Mexico

Yo soy Ráymon – Alex Wessel……………….……………....5El Verdadero Yo – Juan Padilla………………………...…...15Una Nueva Identidad – Annika Constantino…….………….23

MexicoEl Toque de Miedo – Lydia Amaniel……….……………….41Mi Futuro – Savreen Kang………………………..………...51La Nueva Vida – Jesus Lopez………………………….……59

MexicoEndonde Pretenesco? – Melany Velazquez……..………….67Perro Negro – Natalie Moller……………………...……..…77El Corredor – Matthew Fayad…………………..…………..87

El SalvadorVuelo a la Libertad – Samantha Harmer…………………....95La Razón en Que Me Fui – Guadalupe Mendez………...…105La Tierra De Letras, Romero – Zion Davis….….….….….115La Tierra De Letras, Kenny (Excerpt) – Nick Green...……125

El SalvadorLa Verdad – Isabel Sofia Murillo…………………….........129Los Sueños – Fehung Ly……………….………….…....….139Estrella – Autrina Maroufi……..………………………….147

ArgentinaEl Amor, El Fuego y La Muerte – Noah Shedrick…………159La Luz al Fin de la Vida – Andrew Duberek.……….……..169El Hombre con Perdón – Israel Zamora…………….……..179

ArgentinaLos Niños Perdidos – Elyse Waterhouse……………..…....189Las Desgracias de Guerra – Ricardo Angel Loeza……......193El Híbrido – Kobe Manguil..……………………………....203

CubaCambio – Nicholas Joseph………………………..………..215Desafortunada Aventura – Adarius Turley………………..221Casa Cuba – Madison Frausto…………………………….227

Cubaiv

Lealtad, Separación y Decisiones Difíciles – Morgan Robin-son…………………………………..…………………237

Kilómetro 367 – Gabriel Valenzuela…………………..…..245Historia de la Immigración (Excerpt) – Garrett Norton…..251

CubaPor Qué Se Fue – Garrett Layton………...………………. 255La Sombra Cubana – Connor Partida…………..…….........265Las Mentiras Malas – Bijan Siry………………….……….273

ColombiaLágrima Azul – Isabelle Udasco……………………….…..281Control y Seguridad – Genevie Casino……….…………...291El Extraño – Evan London…………………….…………..301

ColombiaEn El Borde: Parte 1 – Alex Soderberg…………………...309Los Peligrosos Rutas De Columbia (Excerpt) – Nancy Gomez……………..…………………………..…………..317En El Borde: Parte 2 – Gabriel Malcolm………...………..319

ColombiaNada Queda – Skye Webb…………………………….…..327Deseo – Mayra Garcia………………...…………………...335Comer, Repartir, Amor – Griffin Benitez………..………..347

HondurasNoches de Honduras – Victor Sánchez …...................……357El Sueño – Phillippe de Kervor (with Trent Lewis)…..…...363Nuevo Comienzo – Darian Robles…………………………371

HondurasMis Decisiónes: Parte 1 – Brooklyn Medrano……….……381Mis Decisiónes: Parte 2 – Jennifer Resendiz……………...389Mis Decisiónes: El Fin – Alec Johnson……………………399

Preface

In the 2016 spring semester, the Patrick, Tannenhaus, Hernández Sophomore class embarked upon a journey. A journey to discover what drives people to move. Focusing on U.S./Latin-American immi-gration during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, students were exposed to an array of perspectives and policies. Combining Spanish and Humanities, language and culture; preconceptions were chal-lenged and minds opened.

Forming groups, students selected a Latin-American country and attempted to get inside the minds of those affected by immigration. Often victims of more powerful forces, the immigrant’s story is rarely told.

Through works of historical fiction, students revealed why immi-grants leave their homeland, what they experience on their journey, and how their life is altered once in the U.S.

1

Mexico

Yo soy Ráymon – Alex Wessel……………………...…………...5El Verdadero Yo – Juan Padilla………………………………...15Una Nueva Identidad – Annika Constantino……..…………….23

In the following collection of short stories, you will delve into the life of a first generation Mexican immigrant, Raymon Morano. Grow-ing up in Mexico in the 1930's, he endures hardships with his family and makes the decision to create a new life for himself by migrating to America. He attempts to erase his past, but still undergoes difficulty realizing his identity, being forgiving of others, and discovering the meaning of a true "family". Years later his son, Ian, follows his foot-steps, living in doubt until he encounters a life-changing movement. This historically based story tackles realistic situations faced by im-migrants.

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The Road to Nowhere

Yo soy Ráymon

Alex WesselRáymon was awoken rudely, with a shake accompanied by a

terse and distant, “Despierte, vas a llegar tarde a la escuela.”His father walked out of his room, and Ráymon soon heard his

expensive new car rev up and watched it race down the street, high-lighted by the harsh morning light. Ráymon stretched himself awake, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his brain, and rose to get ready for school. On his way out the door, clad in designer clothes and a nice, American jacket, Ráymon quickly grabbed breakfast and sat down to eat. As he was eating his cereal, he saw his sister, dressed to the nines for the high school dance, talking to his mom about her new makeup and how excited she was for the party. His mother saw him, mumbled a quick morning greeting, and rushed off to his sister. Ráy-mon hung his head, pushed out the sad thoughts from his brain, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door.

As he was walking through the well-lit roads in his neighbor-hood, Ráymon’s thoughts wandered to the eventual reception he’d re-ceive at school. He mentally prepared himself to listen to at least fif-teen minutes of his entourage complaining about this or asking for that. He hated being considered a popular kid at school, all because his father had managed to kiss up to enough people and make enough bribes to be an important person in the company. He was awoken from his brooding reverie when he heard a distant, but loud call of, “Hey look, Ráymon is here.”

He looked up in surprise, and saw that he was nearing his school. The school was bright and clean, a tribute to the overall wealth of the area. It was a new building, just barely built in 1931, and that showed in both the staff and the architecture. Everything was painted in bright red and boring manilla, and all of the chairs and desks were new. Soon, he was surrounded by a gaggle of chattering and annoyingly loud kids. He tried to put on a nice face for all of them, but he could tell his patience was going to wear thin today. As Ráymon was fight-ing through the crowd in a desperate attempt to make it to class, he

4

The Road to Nowhereheard the bell ring in its incessant klaxon, and redoubled his efforts to get to his 7th grade class.

After a long and mostly uneventful day at school, Ráymon began his walk home. He waved goodbye to his friends, and watched them get picked up by their parents one by one. He sighed and continued his trek home. Summer had come early this year, and the heat was al-most unbearable. It didn’t usually get this hot in Sonora, but this year was predicted to be the hottest. The flies zipped all around him, creat-ing a cacophony of buzzing, accompanied by the  occasional rumble of a car passing by. Ráymon sweated profusely, creating a terrible smell when combined with the faint odor of gasoline next to the road. Halfway through his walk, Ráymon tasted blood in his mouth, and looked down in surprise to see blood drops on his jacket. He swore, and searched in his bag, trying to find something to stop the nose-bleed. As soon as he saw his house, he knew something was amiss. His dad’s car was home, and it looked like it had been parked re-cently. Ráymon heard the drip of condensated water falling from the engine, and the hood was hot to the touch. He could hear his parents arguing; his father’s loud, but mostly incoherent yells, and his mom’s meek sobbing, and sounds of denial coming from her. Ráymon began to rush to the door, but then hesitated. If his dad was as mad as Ráy-mon thought he was, he was liable to do anything.  After some delib-eration, he opened up the door slowly, and began to creep into his room to avoid the words that ricocheted every which way.

“TÚ!” The thundering exclamation came from his father, who now stormed towards Ráymon, a dark, angry look on his face. “Eres tu que hiciste esto! Tu que has arruinado mi vida!”

Ráymon looked furtively around, searching for some clue for what set his father off, “¿Yo qué hice?”

“Tú sabes,” his Dad shouted, towering over his face.“Él no sabe,” Ráymon’s mom whispered, sitting on the couch,

her head hung low. His father turned around slowly, a furious look still on his face.

“¿Qué dijiste?” he said with deceptive quietness.“ÉL NO SABE,” she shouted, looking up at Ráymon and then at

his dad, tears in her eyes. “No sabe que no es tuyo.”

Ráymon’s world crashed down around him.  He sank to the floor, everything around him a blur.  The argument raged on in the back-ground, but his mind had drifted. A cold settled in on his body, grip-ping his heart with icy certainty. No--no of course he hadn’t known that he was not his father’s son, but now his life seemed to click to-gether, all of the little pieces he had both unknowingly and knowingly picked up fitting together perfectly. The reason his ‘dad’ had always shunned him, the reason the rest of the family never spoke to him, the reason why his sister was loved more than him. All Ráymon could do was sit on the ground, stare at his feet, and try to accept his new, bleak reality. It was only when the man who had called himself Ráy-mon’s father aimed a kick and a sharp remark at him that Ráymon got out of the way. He stumbled towards his room, still in a shocked daze. Once he got there, he fell into the open arms of his bed, hoping for the sweet release of sleep.

The door to Ráymon’s room opened, and he could hear a muffled patter of feet on his hardwood floor. He stirred in his bed, still fully dressed, just as he heard a light flop on his bed. He looked over blearily to see his mother, her tearstained face looking strangely happy, an expression he rarely saw on his mother. He looked down to her hand, and saw the source of the smile; An almost finished bottle of whiskey hung from her hand, the remnants of the alcohol sloshing in the bottom.

She looked at him apologetically, and said, with a drunken slur in her voice, “Your real dad was a lot nicer than him you know. When he came here for his business, he was very gentle with your sister. And with me.” She sighed, her eyes filled with regret as she stroked his cheek, “You have his eyes, they were so soft.”

Ráymon straightened up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.“Que-” his mom interrupted him, continuing her drunken ramble.

“I thought about leaving with him, you know. I wanted  to run off to Los Angeles with him, see America, leave your sister… I was a dif-ferent person back then. Even after he left, I was constantly thinking about going to find him. After all, how hard would it be to find a half Cuban, half Puerto Rican man, with skin as dark as his.”

Ráymon’s mom continued on for a long time, but Ráymon was still thinking about his birth father. His mom was right, how hard would it be to find a man like that in a city filled with people of lighter colors. An idea started to grow in his mind, but it would have

6

The Road to Nowhereto wait until the morning. He slowly focused back on his mom, who seemed to be wrapping up her rant.

“Anyways, he was perfect.” She paused for a moment, and stared at Ráymon. She looked lost in thought for a moment, but then she shook her head, clearing some of the fog from her brain.

“Go to bed, hijo. Yo te amo.” At that, she left his room, leaving him to go back to sleep on his own. Just before he did fall asleep, however, Ráymon noticed something new on the floor of his room. He went to investigate, and he saw a photo of the smiling face of a dark skinned, dark haired man, with eyes that looked like his own.

Ráymon woke up once again to the sound of a car speeding away, although this time it almost sounded vindictive. He lay in bed, trying to accept what happened the day before. His marvel at the idea that his whole existence could be changed by one sentence was only matched with a growing sense of dread. The light from his window, partially filtered through the blinds, assaulted his eyes. Ráymon wasn’t sure exactly what he was dreading, but it was bad. Afterwards, his attempt to get up and get ready for school failed miserably, ending in Ráymon landing in bed, clothes half changed out of. He felt like however hard he tried to do something, the world would always knock him down, and no one would want to help him back up.  The room was no longer the pleasant, bright blue like the paint on the walls, but more like a bleak grey, the walls looming in closer, and the window and the door becoming almost infinitesimal dots. This torture in his head, like a thousand rats scratching at the inside of his skull, needed to stop. He needed to get out, to be free from this house and the people in it. Ráymon’s mood soured from abject sadness to fiery anger when he thought about the people he lived with, his so called ‘family’. How dare they, he thought. How dare they not tell me about this. Did they think I wasn’t ready to know about my own past? Screw this! Ráymon came out of his brooding with a determined look on his face and a set in his jaw, dumping the content of his backpack. He was going to get as far away as he could, and make a new life for himself. His idea from that night blossomed in his mind, taking a sud-den, almost violent hold of him. He would travel to Los Angeles, find his real father, and make his own way in the world.

When Ráymon finally reached the train station, he stopped, thinking about his next move. He had left his house in a fit of rage,

and had not planned at all past this. He dressed in nondescript clothes, trying his best to fit in with the crowd. He spotted a group that were clearly migrants near the end of the train. They wore dirty clothes, and some carried worn backpacks and the like. They all shared a weathered look, and even the kids looked around with constant para-noia on their faces. Ráymon slowly walked towards the back of the train station, and approached them cautiously. As he got closer, the smell of dirt and bad hygiene grew stronger. He slipped into the group, unnoticed by most of the adults. Ráymon had gotten good at hiding in crowds after his dad became famous. He hated being popu-lar by not his own virtue. He found a younger group of migrants, and tried to insert himself into their group. Jokes between them happened constantly, with quite a few of them referring to their mothers’ state of being. As he listened, Ráymon began to hear scattered gossip about why some of the migrants left for America. Most were farmers who had been driven out of their homes because of la revolucion, but some were people who had come from places like Honduras and Argentina. Their idle chatter told Ráymon that the journey was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Is this really what I want? Is this who I will become? Overcome with doubt, Ráymon pulled out the picture that his mom had dropped in his room, the small picture of his real dad’s face staring back at him. No, he thought, I have to go on. I will go to America!

○○○

Ráymon approached the tattoo parlor with mounting anticipation, practically daydreaming about his new life in the gang. Los Tigres Rojos took care of him while he was recovering from his train wounds, and taught him how to survive on the streets. Their leader, Raul “La Bestia” Gutierrez was kind to Ráymon, and made sure he was never hurt by his subordinates. The work that Ráymon had al-ready done for the gang had been mostly confined to scouting out ter-ritory and recruitment. After he had gotten his initiation tattoo, he would be allowed to do whatever job La Bestia wanted him to do. Ráymon felt nervous about it, and a voice kept nagging at the back of his head, whispering bits of doubt and sedition every now and then. He tried to ignore it, but as he approached the shop, the voice only grew louder, doubts about truly joining the gang cascading in his

8

The Road to Nowherehead. One of the members that went with him to get the tattoo caught the look on Ráymon’s face as they went inside the parlor, and stopped him at the door. The tattoo on his shoulder identified him as “La Tor-tuga”. Raymon could see why. Everything about him, down to his slow pace and bulging muscles, made the nickname perfect for him. His low rumble, along with the hand on his shoulder, stopped Ráy-mon short.

“Estás seguro, Ráymon-cito? ”Raymon looked up, a little startled at his timing. He was disqui-

eted by the look on La Tortuga’s face, which seemed to pierce through his thoughts.

“Por supuesto que sí.” The exaggeration of his confidence at the moment strengthened Ráymon, but not too much. The prospect of de-ciding this permanently still weighed on him, and significant doubt still nagged at the back of his brain.

La Tortuga smiled, “A mi no me gustan las agujas tampoco,” he said with a small shrug.  “Pero ya! No mames.”

The slang was comforting to Ráymon. With that, he lightly pushed Ráymon into the parlor, and closed the door behind him. The shop was dingy, and lit with only one light that hung from the ceiling. There was a doorless entryway around back, and the whole place smelled slightly of paint and sweat. They both sat down in the rickety waiting chairs, the air filled with the incessant whir of the tattooing equipment. Ráymon fought the urge to get up and bolt out the back door, and tried to quell his growing doubts about this decision. There were a few other people waiting, but not enough to make it crowded. As the number of people in line for new ink dwindled, the battle go-ing on in Ráymon’s head rose to a crescendo. It felt like his head was going to split in two, with one side shouting at him to leave as fast as he could, and the other telling him to stay and accept his new life. As the two conflicting monologues continued to fight in his head, the lit-tle bell attached to the door of the parlor rang. Ráymon looked up in surprise to see La Bestia himself with two of his bodyguards enter the room. At the sight of the nearly mythical leader of Los Tigres Rojos, something clicked in Ráymon’s head. No... I need to keep going to America. I need to be true to myself, he thought.

He leaned over to La Tortuga, who was sitting next to him, and whispered,  “I can’t go through with this. I need to leave.”

La Tortuga looked at him with a mix of surprise, understanding, and possibly a little happiness. Then, the look was quickly replaced by a blank mask of a face, and he grabbed Ráymon’s arm, tugging at him to get up.

As they rose, Tortuga leaned in and whispered in Ráymon’s ear, “Entiendo. I’ll keep them off of you for as long as I can. Run out the back and grab your bag at the hideout. Good luck.”

Ráymon looked down and started walking slowly at first, then with increasing speed, towards the exit in the  back. Behind him, he heard curious, then raised voices, as La Bestia and his henchman in-terrogated La Tortuga about what Ráymon was doing. Ráymon looked back one last time, and saw Bestia rush La Tortuga, a knife pulled out of his belt. He pushed the blade towards La Tortuga’s throat, but he was shoved away by La Tortuga, who pulled out a pistol from his back belt. La Tortuga looked back, surprised that Ráymon was still there.

“Corre,” he shouted, and Ráymon obeyed, fleeing as fast as his feet could take him, the sounds of gunfire and yells chasing him the entire way.

The wind scraped at Ráymon’s face, and the sand was still hot to his feet, even though the sun had set a few minutes ago. The river raced in front  them, the Rio Grande roaring its challenge to the sands of Texas. All that could be heard was the rushing of the river and the howling of the wind. The coyote, who had walked ahead of the group a little bit, turned around and gestured at the small group of migrants. Earlier, he had told them that they had to remain quiet, or else the U.S. Border Patrol would find them. They crept, keeping their bodies close to the ground, towards the edge of the river. Ráymon stayed at the back of the group, trying to remain inconspicuous so that no one could recognize his face. Juan held back a bit, in order to stay next to Ráymon. The coyote made sure that the crowd was close, and then spoke in hushed tones.

“This is the last step. After you cross the river, continue on to Hall Acres road in McAllen. When you see the truck with flashing green lights, get into the back. They will take you to Los Angeles.”

“Where-” The person who spoke was cut off quickly by the coy-ote’s sharp gesture.

“Get down. Now.” His voice was very quiet, but everyone obeyed. A few seconds afterwards, the immigrants all heard the rum-

10

The Road to Nowhereble of a passing Border Patrol boat. It’s searchlights swept the beach, scraping the tops of the short shrubs that the migrants were hiding un-der. After what felt like an eternity, the boat left, its lights still search-ing the beaches. The group slowly stood up, looking around furtively. The coyote surveyed them all, and uttered a simple, “Suerte.”

This was their cue to leave. Hesitantly, the first migrants entered the water, and then they swarmed the bank, trying to get across as fast as possible. When the first people to get in the river reached the bank, they attempted to help the others get out of the already freezing water. They all began to run, fast and low, away from the bank. After they had ran for about ten minutes, a couple of the migrants collapsed from the hypothermia, shivering violently on the ground. The rest of the tired, cold group continued on, knowing that if they stopped to carry their friends, they would certainly not make it.The almost complete silence was shattered by a single, terrified cry.

“LA MIGRA.”The ensuing chaos rose up like a sudden, violent storm, and

swept Ráymon up and carried him away. Everyone began to run, heedless of being seen, each trying to shout to their friends. Ráymon saw Juan briefly, but then was thrown down by an agent that had caught up with them. He felt the officer roughly shove him over on his stomach, and heard the jingle of handcuffs. Ráymon kicked and struggled, hitting the man in the knee, and flipped over once he heard the agent grunt. Ráymon punched him straight across the jaw, and then got up and ran for dear life. The sound of the agent’s swears quickly receded into the dark of the desert as Ráymon ran. The dark red of Juan’s jacket caught his attention in front of him, but as he ap-proached it he saw the jacket laying on the floor, clearly discarded in an attempt to throw off the police. Ráymon came to a stop, and gently sank onto the floor. He didn’t even know what direction to run in, and his simple compass had fallen off in the struggle of the border patrol officer. He grabbed the jacket, shrugged it on, and chose a direction to walk in.

When dawn came, Ráymon was stumbling mindlessly, thinking only of how much water he was going to drink when he finally got to McAllen. He looked up at a distant cry, his eyes focusing and unfo-cusing on a shape approaching him at high speed. He finally snapped to, realizing the importance of the sight before him. He struggled to straighten up, but ended up sinking to his knees, and falling onto his

face, overcome by weariness. The sand felt like the most comfortable bed in the world, and Ráymon sank into it happily.

By the time Ráymon came to, the first thing he heard was the rumble of a truck, and the occasional race of a car nearby. He sat up, and felt the cold steel of the truck beneath him, but the open air in-dicative of a pick-up on his face. His eyes slowly opened, he saw only the black of night, and a ceiling of stars above him. Ráymon gazed up in wonder, struck by the amazing sight. The stars twinkled like dia-monds, contrasted by the deep purple sky. It was one of the most beautiful things that Ráymon had ever seen, and it made him recon-sider his current predicament. This was where he truly wanted to be; in America, a long happy new life ahead of him, and a new dream to follow. Those thoughts brought a smile to his now weathered face. When his eyes returned to the bed of the truck, he saw the sleeping form of Juan next to him. Ráymon reached over to shake him awake and tell him how happy he was that Juan had found him, but then stopped himself. Juan probably needed the rest, and Ráymon wanted to sleep too. With the thought of the stars in mind, and a good friend at his side, Ráymon went back to sleep in the truck.

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The Road to Nowhere

El Verdadero Yo

Juan PadillaNo hubiera cambiado este momento por nada en el mundo. Sentí

el viento en mi cara, pude oler el dulce aroma de una rosa al mirar esta gran ciudad en esta noche tan hermosa. Esa noche dormí debajo de un árbol con mis nuevos compañeros. Necesito trabajo mis com-pas’’ disian muchos pero otros no sabien qué hacer. Yo ya sabía lo que debería de hacer. la razón por que vine. Porque hice toda esa trav-esía. Por mi padre. Lo debo de encontrar lo debo de ver. ¿Pero como? Pensé en esa pregunta por unos buenos 10 minutos cuando de la nada escuche otro hombre decir que iba ir a trabajar en un campo donde su primo trabaja. Les preguntè si podía ir con ellos a trabajar. Afortu-nadamente tenían un espacio vacante.no sabía tanto del trabajo, sola-mente que iba a trabajar en un campo.

La noche se sentía más caliente. Al proximo dia nos despertamos bien temprano para ir al lugar de trabajo. Fue una hora y media en una camioneta. Olía muy mal todo el camino, nadie se había bañado en días. Olía a fierro viejo y a mierda.

“No mames quien se cagó,” decía alguien.Todos se rieron estas eran las cosas chiquitas que hacen mi  vida

mejor.Cuando llegamos al campo notè que estábamos bien lejos de la

ciudad. Había un hombre ahí alto y rubio con los ojos negros como los míos. Su nombre era Patrick pero todos lo llamaban Don Patricio. Se miraba muy amable y muy bueno. Algo de él se miraba que no pensaba menos de nosotros. El primer día fue tranquilo, solo nos dieron una tienda para dos personas y les dejaron ponerlas en un campo que tenía con otros trabajadores. Me toco dormir con otro niño en la misma tienda donde habían cobijas y comida en latas para un se-mana. Esa noche no nos hablamos ni nos miramos.

En el segundo día nos despertaron a las 5 de la mañana para recoger algodón de un campo que media 7 hectáreas de largo los tomo hasta las 9 de la tarde para terminar. Esto era muy cansador y muy duro. Nomás teníamos un descanso de a las 5 de la tarde de 30 minu-tos  para tomar agua y descansar. Ese día cuando regrese a mi tienda con mi compañero los miramos alos ojos por unos segundos los dos

14

The Road to Nowhereveníamos bien cansados  ese dia. El proximo dia me  levantamos mas trempando porque me quise hacer un desayuno. Cuando me andaba comiendo mi plato de huevo revuelto mi compañero se levantó y me preguntó qué andaba  haciendo esa era la primera vez que los hablamos después de que le dije de lo que estaba haciendo nos intro-ducimos y los contamos nuestras historias.el se llamaba pepe y tenía 11 cuando nlos conocimos. El era un niño muy chico de pelo negro y ojos cafés era muy hermoso pero muy sucio.

Tres meses han pasado desde la primera vez que le hable a pepe. Nos habiamos sido muy buenos amigos y hasta le conté que la razón por que vine a los Estados Unidos. Era porque quería encontrar a mi padre biológico. Un dia en nuestro descanso estábamos hablando del tema me andaba preguntando cómo le iba hacer para encontrar a mi padre y yo le decía que el destino me iba ayudar.

El proximo dia en nuestro descanso el señor patricio los vino a visitar no los digo nada no mas se me cerro mirando por unos treinta segundos y se fue. Los pasamos el resto del tiempo hablando porque vino y que quería con nosotros. Esa noche pepe me contaba cómo me parecía a Mr. Patricio solo que él era más alto y tenía el pelo blanco. Pensandolo si me parecía mucho a él. El próximo día en el descanso estábamos platicando como se parecia mi papa. Le ensene la foto que tenia.me dejo que me parecia moucho a el. De la nada el se miró con-fuso me miró con una cara muy rara luego de unos segundos me dijo que se parecía al Mr. Patricio. Los pasamos platicando de las posibili-dades de que Mr. Patricio seia mi padre. Nunca se me ocurrió que él podía ser mi padre.

Mañana en la mañana Mr. Patricio vino a nuestra tienda para hablarme dijo que me quiso hablar en su oficina.no se que qeria de mi pero denia una cara bien seria y larga. Cuando entre a su oficina cerró la puerta con candado y cerró las cortinas para que nadie los mire no quería que nadie los mirar. Me puse muy nervioso me puse a sudar es-taba muy nervioso estaba pensando que me iba a despedir. cuando me empezó hablar dijo que no me ponga nervioso que nada malo me  iba pasar y que no me iba a despedir solo me dijo que qeria saber mas de mi y por que me vine a los estados unidos. Le dije que cruse porque quería encontrar a mi padre biológico. El me miro con una mirada muy fría luego me preguntó de dónde vengo. Le dije que nació en sonora su mirada se volvio mas fria. La siguiente pregunta fue más fría y directa me pregunto quién era mi madre como se llamaba y como se mira. Le dije que porque y me contestó que estaba curioso.

Después le conteste que se llamaba rosa y que tenía el polo corto y negro cuando le dije eso sus ojos se abrieron y se quedó en un estado de shock lo próximo que me pregunto que quando nací  lo digo con tanto miedo como si alguien lo fuera a matar. Le dije que nací el 18 de octubre. En el segundo que dije octubre saltó para atrás. No sabia que hacer estaba muy nervioso su cara me asustaba estaba a punto de desmayarme.

Se puso muy nervioso y le note una gota de sudor corriendo por su cara. Mirando lo a el sudar mu puso a mi sudar. Le pregunté qué pasaba porque estabo tan nervioso mientras le decía eso se acercó más a mi  me miro derecho a los ojos y me preguntó si sabía  el nombre le dije que no. Me dijo que ya me podía ir.

Antes de irme le pregunté “Porque quería saber sobre mi padre y porque vine a los estados unidos”?

Me miró a los ojos de nuevo y me dijo, “Se qien es tu padre.”“Estas seguro,” le pregunte.No pude reaccionar me quedé con la boca abierta con el poco

aliento que tenia le pregunte si era cierto me contestó con un si. Me dijo que era su hermano Aaron. Escuche sobre el tal  Aaron, otros tra-bajadores me contaron que el una vez le llamó ala migra porque des-cubrió que su hermano contrató a inmigrantes para trabajar con el . A el no le gustaba la idea de su familia trabajando con inmigrantes los veía como  una raza inferior. El pensaba que su familia era muy alta para trabajar con elles. Pero eso no me importaba en ese momento lo que me importaba era que sabía quién era mi padre y eso lo que me importaba más . Lo que no entendía es porque una persona como el seria mi padre si no le gustan los inmigrantes? El me contesto que fue un accidente lo de mi mama. Me siguió contando de mi padre luego le pregunté si me podía llevar con él . no le gustó la idea de eso pero dijo que era mi decisión le dije que me lleve lo más rápido posible con el. Me dijo que en el verano me iba a llevar con el. Estaba muy feliz ese dia no solo sabía quien era mi padre pero también lo iba a ver sentía que mi corazón se iba a saltar.

Esa noche no podía dormir de solo pensar que iva a conocer a mi padre. Pepe estaba muy sorprendido cuando le dije sobre mi padre y que era aaron mi padre. Cuando le dije el nombre de mi padre saltó como muchos de los trabajadores del campo tenían miedo de ese nombre. Mientras platicabamos más esa noche le contaba cómo mi vida iba a cambiar lo  último que me dijo pepe fue espero que tu vida

16

The Road to Nowherecambie pero tu nunca cambies. Lo mire a sus ojos y con una sonríe le conteste que jamás.

Los meses se sintieron como años y no podía esperar más. Cada dia me volvia mas loco de solo  pensar que tan legos estaba el verano no lo podía aguantar. No podía dormir unas noches de la angustia. Pero sabía que el dia iva venir no tenía nada en la mente solo tenia la imagen de el dia que iva a conocer a mi padre. El dia antes del primer día del   verano pepe me echo una fiesta de despedida le dije que lo iba a ver pero no le importo creio que el de verdad penso que nunca lo iba a ver de nuevo. No había mucho en esa fiesta solo dos botellas de sodas y una bolsa de papitas .Esa noche como muchos otras noches no dormí pero esta vez pepe se quedó despierto conmigo me trataba de convencer de que me valla a dormir \pero no pude había muchas cosas en mi mente esa noche y estaba muy emocionado como para dormir.

El proximo dia fue corriendo a  la oficina de Mr. Patricio. El ya sabia que iba ir para que me lleve con mi padre. El me quiso con-vencer de que hera una mala idea pero no me importava. Le pregunté si era una mala idea porque no mas no me lleva. Con toda seriedad en sus ojos me miró y dejó que era mi futuro no el de el, el solo me va apoyar en mi decisión.

Como me lo prometió el me llevo con mi padre. El viaje tomó ex-actamente dos horas y tress minutos estaba tan emocionada que con-taba cada minuto. Regresamos a la hermosa ciudad. La misma ciudad de cuando llegue se veía más hermosa en el dia que en la noche. Cuando llegamos me encontraba enfrente de una casa muy hermosa Mr. Patricio me digo que esta hera su casa  mirando la me hizo sentir emocionado . mi padre tenía una casa muy hermosa. Me puse muy nervioso de  solo parme enfrente de ella cuando entre se veia mucho mas hermoso tan hermosa como el cielo comparada con mi tienda que tenía con pepe. Había unas escaleras blancas con baras de color oro y bajandolas había un hombre alto y elegante ese hombre era mi padre

Mientras bajaba las escaleras no te que no se veía feliz más bien estaba enojado. cuando llegó hasta abajo me miro con un cara de asco y odio no se miraba feliz de ver me pero eso hera de esperarse. Por unos buenos cinco minutos le estaba gritando a Mr. Patricio no le en-tendía nada porque estaban hablando  en inglés ya cuando terminaron de pelear Mr. Patricio se fue y enojado. Mi padre me voltio a verme  y con una cara de odio me dijo “con que eres mi hijo ehh”le conteste que sí y le di la foto la agarro y la tiró al piso. Luego me dijo que si

voy hacer su hijo voy a tener que comportarme como tal  me dijo que tengo que aprender hablar ingles no me qeria escuchar hablar inglés después del verano tambien que me prepare para la escuela. Lo último que me dijo fue que me olvidara de mi raíces mexicanas que este era mi verdadera  cultura que los mexicanos eran malos y que si me re-fiero como uno me echaria de la casa. No pude decir nada más que si luego de esa platica me mandó a un cuarto llenos de libros para apren-der inglés y muchas más materias también había mucha ropa moderna y muy americana me dijo estudia mucho niño y se fue me dejó solo en un cuarto no hice nada pero en pensar en las palabras de mi padre so-bre los mexicanos mientras pensaba en eso la imagen de mi padrastro paso  por mi mente tambien a mi madre y que tan horrible eran con-migo yo solo quería amor no odio pasa semanas y me odio se hacía más grande y mi padre cada dia me decía que los mexicanos eran ma-los le conté sobre mis padres en méxico y me dijo que tenía razón y que no me amaban porque era mejor que ellos y ellos lo sabían. Dos meses pasaron y mi inglés se mejoró  mi padre estaba muy orgulloso de mi me dijo que le puedia pedir lo que quería y me lo iba a con-seguir. Después En los dos meses de vivir con mi padre y realizar como son los mexicanos. solo. quería una cosa y hesa cosa hera cam-biarme el nombre en mi cabeza estaba pensando si esto seria una buena idea oh si hera la coza correcta pero yo ya tenía una respuesta mi padre sonrió y luego me dijo

“Welcome home, Damian, my son.” Damien me gusta le dije.Un mes después entre ala escuela. A mi no me gusto mucho la es-

cuela desde el primer dia me conocían como el mexicano no me gustaba nada ese nombre. Eso no hera lo único a veces no los en-tendía nada porque todavía no hablaba el ingles al 100 todos se burla-ban. Le dije a mi  padre pero a él no le importo solo me dijo que los ignore y que me enfoque en mis estudios no mas eso no me ayudo mucho. Habia una nina en mi salón que  me ayudaba mucho su nom-bre era emma y hablaba el español perfectamente y me ayudaba mu-cho era mi única amiga me ayudaba hasta a veces me protegía de los que se burlaban de mi.

El tiempo pasaba y me acercaba más a emma. Ya después de un año iva ala casa de emma después de la escuela. Me gustaba mucho su familia desde el primer dia me trataron como uno de su familia me sorprendí que había gente tan buena como ellos en el mundo. Me

18

The Road to Nowheredieron amor hasta en navidad me dieron un regalo  para ellos yo era familia

Un día mientras caminábamos a la casa de emma me andaba pre-guntado muchas preguntas. Como porque siempre voy a su casa y le dije que mi padre no le importaba nomas que queria buenas califica-ciones de mi. Me decía que mi padre era muy bueno por que me de-jaba hacer lo que yo quiera pero me voltie y le dije que sus padres eran mejor porque los daban mucho amor y eso hace una familia. Otra pregunta que me hizo fue porque digo que soy americano si clara-mente se nota. Ese dia le conte sobre mi traviesa y lo que mi padre me digo y lo que me padrés en méxico me  hicieron pasar. Ella se sintió mal por mi lo podía notar pero luego  se voltio y me abrazó y me dijo que para eso estaba ella y su familia para darme mucho amor que mi familia de verdad no me pudo dar.

Un dia me dio mucha curiosidad y les pregunte porque me acep-taron como uno de ellos. Me miraron con una sonrisa y me pegaron en la cabeza y me dijeron  que porque era la cosa correcta. Ya sabian que venia de una familia sin amor y que mi padre nunca me podia amar de verdad el solo me daba comida y dinero pero no amor. Para él todavía era un mejicano sucio y corriente eso era lo que me mo-lestaba más  de ser un mexicano mi propio padre nunca me va amar como un padre debe amar a su hijo solo porque soy mexican. Todo lo que hecho hasta hoy fue para hacer a mi padre orgulloso y para que me pueda amar pero no lo único que recibe de el fue mi odio sobre los mexicanos.

La familia de emma no sabía nada de mi odio de ser mexicano y el odio que le tengo alos mexicanos cuando estaba con su familia mi odia se iba a otro lugar como si su amor me hiciera olvidar todo. Esa era una de las razones porque me gustaba tanto su familia pero  no importaba cuanto tiempo pasara con ellos cada vez que regresaba a casa con mi padre mi odio crecia. Cada vez que miraba su cara sabía que nunca se iba a sentir amor por mi.

Mientras los años pasaban el español se me olvidaba no lo hablaba en mi  casa por miedo que me padre me regañaba y tampoco lo pude hablar mucho en la escuela  por miedo que se burlen de mi. Poco a poquito se borraba el espanol de mi mente. Mi padre ya no me habla espanol y mis conversaciones con emma eran mas en ingles. Ya nadie se burlaba de mí porque ya no hablaba español también todos me reconocían como americano en la escuela.

En el dia antes de mi graduación mi padre me dijo que se sentía muy orgulloso de mi hasta me dio la mano. Lo mire a los ojos y le dije gracias y se fue yo quise que dijera eso  yo quise que dijera que me amaba y que diera un buen abrazo pero supe que nunca lo iba a conseguir.  

Esa noche me la pase pensando en mi papá y como ellos siempre me miraban hacia abajo pero  a hora yo soy el que está arriba a hora yo soy mejor.  En ese momento me sentía tan poderoso y fuerte. No podia esperar hasta manana. Sabía que con mi certificado de la high school iba hacer mejor que ellos. Tenía mucha adrenalina esa noche no pude dormir por estar tan emocionada.

En el dia de mi graduación fue mi momento más orgulloso de mi vida. Yo ya sabia hablar ingles a la  perfección y  ya casi me olvidaba de todas mi raíces mexicanas que misfortune que mi padre no pudo venir pero no importaba porque  mi otra familia vino a verme. Yo en ese momento ya no era un niño mexican sucio trabajando en el campo por horas y horas a hora soy un  americano a punto de ir a la universi-dad. E llegado muy lejos y me vuelve mucho más inteligente que  el pobre niño que fue a hora ya no soy Raymon pero a hora soy Daimain mejor que cualquier mexicano. Cuando el profesor dijo mi nombre me pare con tanto orgullo y felicidad por que con esto yo era mejor.

20

The Road to Nowhere

Una Nueva Identidad

Annika Constantino

“Turn around, Morano,” she bellowed. Ian winced each time the wooden paddle slammed against his legs. He felt his blood boiling, for he was being punished for something so ridiculous. He limped back to his seat, stroking his aching thighs. The silent void was filled by the teacher’s shrill voice. She continued her lesson, leaving Ian no choice but to tune out her voice. He slumped back into his seat, nes-tled his head into his textbook, and waited anxiously for the period to be over.

As soon as the bell rang, he grabbed his book and bolted out of his seat. The teacher hobbled to the doorway, blocking his path.

“Not so fast, Morano!” the teacher said with papers clasped in her hands. “I have homework for you all!”

“Mierda,” he cussed under his breath.“What was that?” she barked with her eyes wide.“Nothing,” he replied, snatching the paper out of her claw-like

hands. He sped out the door, leaving the teacher shaking her head in frustration. Ian shuffled down the hallway, shoving the paper into his bag. Quickly kids poured out of classrooms left and right. Girls with thick headbands strolled arm in arm with their friends, and boys with slicked back hair dashed down the hall. Ian’s friends sped towards him, each high fiving him and patting him on the back.

“El día ha terminado!” one chuckled. “Somos libres!” They all laughed and spoke Spanish as loud as they wanted. The

school day was over. No one could stop them.“Ian we’re going to hang out today, wanna come?” one asked. “There’s going to be girls!” another coaxed, drawing laughter

from the other boys. Ian cracked a smile, laughing softly.“Lo siento guys. Not today, maybe another time.”All the guys groaned. “Ugh, no otra vez Ian!” one said, “¿Lo que

se trata esta vez?” Ian sighed, “I have to help my padre with something. Also, I’m

failing History. There’s so much work for me to do. If I don’t start catching up now, that brajo will make sure I never make it to senior

22

The Road to Nowhereyear.” Ian’s friends bid him goodbye as they exited the giant brown doors.

“¡Mañana entonces!” they hollered. “Okay, I’ll try,” he lied, feeling the guilt grow in him. The leaves crunched under his feet as he neared the barren street,

the sky was painted an array of orange, pink and yellow, with the gray clouds slowly receding. He passed through the tall metal fence of his house, trudged up to  the porch, ducked his head under his mother’s low-hanging wind chime, and swung open the thick wooden door.

He quietly shut the door behind him, stepping onto the newly polished tile floor. The house was quiet besides the hum of the kitchen stove and the muffled voices coming from the TV in his fa-ther’s office. Ian dropped his bag beside the couch and continued to the kitchen.

“Ya llege,” he exclaimed, quickly kissing his Mom on the cheek. Before his Mother could say anything he heard footsteps behind him.

“Donde estabas!” his father roared. Ian turned around to face him.

“Buenas tardes to you, too,” Ian retorted.“It’s 6:00pm, Ian. It should only take you an hour to come

home!”“No era nada, sólo ayudó a alguien con la tarea.” Ian said “Who? Who was it!? Please don’t tell me you’re hanging out

with those kids,” his father replied. “Those kids are mis amigos. And no, I was not with them, actu-

ally,” Ian objected, quickly turning around and storming out of the kitchen to his room. He slammed his door behind him and threw off his tennis shoes. He hurled himself onto his bed, exhaling loudly.

The kids his father talked about so harshly were all Mexican-American. That was the thing that confused Ian the most. His father was always so dismissive towards them, despite being an outright Mexican himself. He hated that they were referred to as bad influ-ences on him.

Ian’s father leaned against the counter, his foot tapping against the ground. With a look of grimace on his face, he quietly pulled out a chair to sit in. He snatched the newspaper from the corner of the table and placed a pair of glasses onto his nose, bringing the newspaper to cover his face.

“Ese niño...Él es bastante enojado, isn’t he?” he murmured to Ian’s mother. She nodded, pouring him a glass of water.

“Damien, eres demasiado duro con..él no entiende,” she ac-knowledged.

“¡El pasado no está importante!” he snapped, “I told you before, he doesn’t need to know Amaia.”

“Él es nuestro hijo... He’s already seventeen. He needs to know about why things are how they are,” she mumbled cautiously, pulling out a chair for herself to sit down in. Damien shook his head and flipped the page of his newspaper. He sat silently, not taking notice of all the food his wife had spent time to make.

“Un día, él podrá averiguarlo. You can’t keep your past a secret. By chance he’ll discover them, he’ll realize that you weren’t born here, and that those people he calls his los abuelos are not who you say they are,” she asserted, sitting still. Damien stubbornly stood up, snatching the glasses off his nose and rolling up his newspaper. He left the room, leaving Amaia sitting alone at the round kitchen table. The tablecloth was still neatly laid out, and the food she had prepared for  dinner was left untouched by both her son and husband.

Ian sat in History class once again, staring at his desk, with his teacher’s high pitched voice babbling in the background.

“Cesar!” she barked, “please read the first two paragraphs of page 187.” Shyly, the kid stood up and began to read. He stammered, pronouncing words wrong, and was clearly having a difficult time.

“In 1964 many people invok-” he was cut off.“Cesar, that’s enough. You should know all these words by now,

you shouldn’t be guessing,” she admonished, shaking her head, “How disappointing. Meet with me after school for a talk about your studies. Also, I want you to clean this room, maybe then you can practice all the words you pronounced incorrectly while you make this floor spot-less!” Cesar scowled, sitting back down into his desk. Beside him, a figure spoke up.

“No, Cesar, you’re not cleaning after school,” Alex Medina protested, one of Ian’s friends.

“Excuse me, Medina?” the teacher boomed. The whole class, in-cluding Ian diverted their attention to Alex, everyone sitting still and keeping quiet. Cesar sat timidly at his desk, his hands folded.

24

The Road to Nowhere“I said, Cesar is not going to be cleaning after school,” Alex

replied. “I don’t see why he would. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” The teacher stood baffled at his answer.

“Medina, one more word and you’re going to clean the class-rooms along with him.”

“No. I’m not going to and he’s not going to either. You can’t punish someone for not reading a passage correctly. This is ridicu-lous.” Alex stormed.

With a bewildered look on her face she roared, “I’m the teacher here Medina! You will do as I say! Stand here, you deserve to be pun-ished,” she gestured towards the front of the room pulling out the wooden paddle from the drawer of her desk.

“No, you’re not a teacher, you’re just another adult that thinks of us as worthless rats! I’m tired of how you all treat us Mexicans. We’re people too!” he cried, glowering at her. Despite it being far from the end of class, Alex stood up, swung his bag over his shoulder, and walked to the door. The teacher stumbled towards him, grabbing his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere, Medina!” she shrieked, struggling to keep ahold of his arm. Alex teared his arm out of her grip and snatched the wooden paddle from her hand.

“Estúpida vieja bruja” he snapped, chucking the paddle against the wall behind her. He cracked a smirk as he heard small cheers of encouragement from the class. He stomped out of the room, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving the teacher dumb-founded, fists clenched at her sides.

“What are you all looking at?” she howled. Many of them shrugged with a grin on their face, quickly pretending to look at their textbooks. Even Ian, had a smile on his face, clearly impressed with what he had just seen.

After the bell rang and Ian trotted down the hallway, he noticed that his friends were much more eager to see him than usual.

“Ian!” one yelled. “¿Has oído?” Puzzled, Ian asked what they were talking about.

“All this is going to come to an end!” his friend Alvaro replied. “The other students, they’re planning something!”

“What?” he asked, still not understanding. “Alex and other students want to start something. They’re tired

off all the horrible treatment we get here.” Alvaro eagerly continued.

“The other students told me! They said they were going to start a rev-olution!”

“¿D-De versas?? Finalmente!” Ian stammered. Pretending to feel hugely thrilled about the news, but really felt more unsettled than de-lighted. The rest of the guys rejoiced together with large grins on their faces. All but Ian were clearly ecstatic.

“They’re going to hold meetings and everything. Los otros estu-diantes dijeron a difundir las noticias,” another said. Ian nodded at this, remaining silent. Like usual, Ian bid them goodbye at the front doors of the school.

Days begin to pass, Ian still frequently refusing each invitation to go to the new meetings that were beginning to be held everyday after school.

Although he acted as if he was standing his ground, pretending he had no interest in joining their revolución, he covertly felt ex-cluded from all of it. Even though he knew well that it was his own fault. He truthfully would’ve gone the first time they asked him, but his father’s voice always rung in the back of his mind, reminding him how much trouble he’d get in if he went. He envied his friends who had parents who were supportive of these type of things, more specifi-cally of things that had to do with Mexicano cultura. If anything, their parents encouraged them to make a difference, and stood alongside them agreeing that the L.A. school district was corrupt.

He was lost in thought, his head facing the desk like always. In front of him, there was an empty seat next to the dirt stained windows. The place in which Alex Medina would normally sit. To the left, the small Cesar sat with his arms folded across the desk, looking more confident than usual, with a sneer on his face. Everyone felt the dif-ference in atmosphere in the History class, even the teacher. Now she had looked more alert, gripping the wooden paddle tightly in her right hand as she read a passage. Every now and then she’d look up from her textbook, eyeing the children around her for any misbehavior.

Without it being spoken, all of the people in the room knew that she was no longer fully in control. No matter how much she’d tattle to the other teachers and principal, there would hardly be any change made just because of a single rebelde student. Many of the teachers have seen and heard of past students, similar to Alex who tried to make a difference in the way the school treated Mexican-Americans.

26

The Road to NowhereBut all have failed or have given up in the past years. Now seeing an-other common case of a student wanting to make a difference, it wouldn’t bring up any serious concern from any of them.

Afraid to call on anyone, the teacher read all the passages on her own today. She quietly passed out the homework, carefully placing it onto each desk, acting as if the kids were wild animals ready to bite. Before everyone knew it, the bell rang once again. The teacher stood away from the door, letting the kids bustle out without a word.

Ian scurried down the hallway with his friends. As soon as they reached the front doors, they persisted to ask him again.

“Sólo trate de venir a una de las reuniones. Sólo esto una vez. Sólo para ver cómo es.” Alvaro pleaded. The other guys nodded in agreement. Usually Ian would pretend to contemplate, which was re-ally just to give him time to think of an excuse. But today he actually thought about it.

“¡Por favor, Ian!” another exclaimed, nudging him on the arm. Out of impulse Ian blurted out a stifled

“Okay!”Everyone was silent at this point. Ian looked around, and saw

their bemused faces. They each exchanged looks of disbelief with one another, all had expected the familiar answer of no. After a few sec-onds, they all cheered with glee, patting Ian on the back. Ian felt grateful towards his friends for being so patient with him. They con-tinued to insist on him, almost everyday, for they genuinely thought that joining it would be good for Ian.

For once, Ian walked the road opposite from the one he fre-quented everyday. With his friends by his side they walked to Down-town for the meeting. He managed to look back at the lonely road be-hind him, strangely feeling dismal. It was the first change he’s made in a long time.

Usually by sunset, Ian was a few blocks away from his home, trudging in the heat, kicking rocks as he walked. But now he was in Downtown L.A, the sun barely seeping through the gaps of allowance between the large buildings. His huddle of friends continued to walk on, for none of them were able to afford a car just yet. Just before the street lamps turned on, they arrived at the restaurant in which the meetings were held. The place had flickering lettered lights on the roof saying Maria’s. The second they opened the door, a burst of sounds and voices came from inside, which was a big contrast from the almost dead silent streets outside. They all bustled in, quickly

placing their backpacks on the floor near the entrance. Ian followed, observing everything around him.

The place was small, but comfy. Ian was astonished at how many kids his age were currently inside. He had a puzzled look on his face, for he saw familiar faces from Lincoln High school, as well as people he had never seen in his life. A mixture of boys and girls, all Mexican, leaned against walls and sat around tables. Around 50 kids crammed into the restaurant, but all managed to find a comfortable place to stand or sit. Given how short they have been planning, Ian was very impressed by the outcome of Alex’s wish to create a revolution. His friends made their way to the back tables, the ones very close to the windows. A few of them sat on the table while others pulled a few chairs over. He sat down on the ripping leather chair and looked around him. In the middle of the dining area there was a small riser, possibly used for small musical performances in the restaurant. There stood Alex, and a few other individuals that Ian didn’t know. Ian turned towards his friend Gerome, about to ask a question.

Gerome interrupted him saying,  “Sólo mira.” Ian nodded reluc-tantly.

The people he assumed were in charge waited for the noise to die down. Quickly the chattering and giggles coming from students ended. They all fixed their attention on them. Ian found himself being impressed again, for no teacher at Lincoln could have pulled off something like that.

“Buenos noches a todos,” a man with a moustache hollered, who obviously wasn’t a student. “Mi nombre es Mr.Hernandez. Me alegro de que todos hayan venido. Vamos a empezar nuestra reunión.” The whole room boomed with claps from the students.

“Ha sido tres semanas,” he continued. “Y no ha habido progre-sos. El plan A y B no funciona.”

Alex stepped forward and began to speak, “Plan A’s signed ques-tionnaires that we all filled out were merely thrown in the trash by the principal, Plan B’s protesting in the streets didn’t do much at all. Necesitamos otros plan. ¿Alguien tiene alguna ideas?”

The crowd remained silent for awhile, not one person willing to share.

“Vamos. No seas tímido, ninguna idea es mala,” Alex exclaimed, encouraging the audience to speak. Slowly students began to share ideas, the crowd becoming more comfortable.

28

The Road to NowhereGerome nudged Ian’s arm whispering, “¿Tienes alguna idea?” Ian shrugged. Gerome insisted on bothering him. “C’mon Ian, you’re el genio of our group. Like they said,

ninguna idea es mala.”Ian began to think of ideas, trying to think of things very simply. “Gerome, what we really need first if we want to make any

change is their attention right? Los profesores, el director, toda la es-cuela.” Ian explained in an undertone, careful not to disturb the meet-ing or the people speaking. “And so we need to affect the school some how. With something simple, with no violencia. You know when the teacher takes attendance everyday before school ends?” Gerome nod-ded feverently. Ian continued, “That’s how the school earns money, from students being present every day.”

Gerome let out a quiet exclamation of “Ohhh!” looking very ea-ger to hear the rest of Ian’s plan.

“If we all went to school and disappeared before attendance, the school would lose money. And the profesores y el director would go crazy! We could gather people to leave at once, and then protest in front of the school. That would definitely grab their attention, they’d realize we mean business.”

Gerome’s eyes lit up, looking very excited. He punched Ian on the shoulder saying, “Ian! Yo sabía que eras un genio. Share it right now!” Ian rubbed his shoulder, the punch hurting more than he ex-pected.

“No, era solo una pequeña idea...” he muttered, turning back to face the front.

Gerome sighed in frustration and grabbed ahold of Ian’s wrist, flinging it high into the air.

“Gerome! ¿Qué haces?” Ian blurted, trying to pry his hands away from Gerome’s tight grip. He struggled to fight off his friend who was much bigger and stronger than him.

“Yes?” A sharp voice interrupted, making both Ian and Gerome turn.

Gerome smirked, letting go of Ian’s wrist and leaning back into his chair. Ian’s eyes darted around the room, seeing the multiple pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Lo-Lo siento!” he spluttered, sinking back into the seat. The man chortled, shaking his head.

“No, please, you must have an idea,” he said gently. Gerome pushed Ian for encouragement. Ian froze, feeling sweat build up on his forehead. Alvaro hissed across the table,  

“Finalmente you have a chance to have a voice Ian, take it!” Ten-tatively, Ian cleared his voice and began to share.

“The-the first thing we should do is grab their attention. Rather than doing protests, we need to do a little more,” he paused, unsure if he should push through with it. Once again Gerome punched his back, making Ian quickly spit out the rest.

“To affect the school we can all leave before attendance is taken, meaning the school will not earn money from students being present. We can exit the school before 3:00pm and have a protest in front of the school. If we get enough people, they’ll know we mean business.” He bit his lip, the silence following his small speech agonizing for him to bare. Suddenly, a few students to the left of him began to nod their heads. Mumbles of “Yah,” or “Not bad actually,” echoed around the room. Mr. Hernandez began to nod his head as well, with Alex be-hind him grinning. A lady beside Alex raised her hand for a question.

“What if it’s not enough? Who’s going to know about it but the school and ourselves? We might not go anywhere with this but getting suspended.” The crowd once again reverted their attention to Ian, waiting for an answer.  

Looking for something to say he muttered, “Uh then we’ll call newspapers, news stations, reporters, just anyone that will get us pub-licity. The more the community sees this, the more chance we’ll have of getting more supporters.”Gerome slapped Ian’s back, impressed with what he had thought of so spontaneously.

“Ahora esto es una idea buena!” Alvaro roared, his hands cup-ping over his mouth. To Ian’s utter surprise and amazement, the crowd cried in agreement. The lady and the rest of the individuals on stage were clearly impressed, each of them clapping for Ian. His friends patted him on the back, and other students began to flood to-wards him. Stunned, Ian looked around with his mouth open, unsure of what to say. Mr. Hernandez gestured for the crowd to quiet down again.

“Creo que esto funcionará. Let’s get to work!” he exclaimed. Alex stood on the stage again.

“We are Chicano,” he hollered to the audience.

30

The Road to Nowhere“Somos Chicano,” The students replied. The word ‘chicano’ rung in Ian’s mind. It was a word he never

dared to say in his house. His father had deplored the word, forbid-ding Ian and his mother to ever utter it. It meant a person of Mexican origin. Which was in fact what they were.

It dawned on him that he had never had a real identity his whole life.From a young age he had been left unsure of who he really was. He would go to school everyday next to kids who knew exactly who they were. They’d be proud to call themselves a Mexican, or a Mexi-can-American, a Chicano. The language, the culture, the pride was encouraged for them. But for Ian, he was neither a Mexican, nor an American.

No matter how much his father suppressed the Mexican culture in his life and insisted that their family was American, Ian knew that they were not simply that. But, no matter how much he surrounded himself with other prideful Mexicans and internally told himself that he was a Mexican, he realized he did not know Mexican history, he did not know half of the culture of Mexico, and had never even been to the place. He had felt that he was as much of stranger to the word Mexican as any other American child.

But now, being a part of group that labeled them Chicano, he had felt a new existing feeling of pride in him.

Ian had initially made up an excuses for coming home late every-day, but it later was found to be a lie. Upon arriving home from a meeting, his father had gone berserk. With his mother standing silently behind him, his father began to scold Ian.

“What do you think you’re getting yourself into Ian? I told you, those kids aren’t safe!” he yelled with his eyes wide.

“Our school treats us Mexicanos like rats! We couldn’t stand for it any longer! We are standing up for ourselves!” Ian protested.

“I always told you to stop hanging around people like them. They’re dangerous, and you’re beginning to become like them,” His father complained. He turned around, intending to end the conversa-tion. “You will not attend anymore of those meetings with those peo-ple, you hear me Ian?” he continued, heading for the door. Enraged, Ian stood up.

“What do you mean those people? ¿Cuál es la diferencia entre el-los y nosotros? We are one and the same! We are of the same race,

the same culture!” Ian cried. His father turned to face him, his eye-brows scrunching together.

“We are American! We live in America, you go to an American school, you speak english, why can’t you understand that Ian?” his fa-ther replied.

“Somos mexicanos, somos chicanos! No matter how much you say we are just American, it will never be true. The color of our skin, the language we speak, they all say otherwise! Why can’t you admit that we are Mexican! What is wrong with the truth? Why can’t you understand?’ Ian burst out, the anger in him building up. His father stood still, taken aback by what he had heard. Ian scowled at him defi-antly.

“These people support me like you never did. I am staying in the revolution. Estoy cansado de cómo me tratas. Estoy realmente cansado de él...” Ian faltered, his voice cracking. With tears about to fall from his eyes he continued, “I’m not going to let you or anyone take away the one thing in my life that has made me feel proud. No matter what, I am Chicano.”

The days began to progress faster and faster. Ian found himself turning into one of the leaders of the revolution. His simple idea had began to take flight, slowly becoming real before his eyes. He had fi-nally woke up everyday feeling like he had a purpose.

It had come to the day of their biggest walkout yet. Their past two in the previous week had definitely drawn attention from their school.

But it wasn’t enough. If they really wanted change to happen, there had to be more action made. Not only from Lincoln High School, but from any other high schools in The Los Angeles Unified School district that were populated with Chicanos that felt as strongly about Mexican rights as they did. Many of the schools they had re-cruited had shared the same complaints as they had, bad school facili-ties, inability to speak Spanish around teachers, segregation, and the lack of Mexican history in their education.

In the following day, three schools would be walking out at be-fore 3:00pm, and would head to the L.A. School District center in Downtown.

Ian sat anxiously in History Class, staring down the small clock pinned above the blackboard, waiting for the hands to hit 2:59pm. He

32

The Road to Nowherewas confident, yet afraid. He knew that the police were going to be waiting out there like the other times, ready to sabotage their protest. They had warned them not to proceed with a walkout again, but of course they were stubborn and wouldn’t stop that easily. Ian was afraid that harm would come to his classmates.

Finally, the clock struck 2:59pm. “Attendance!” the small history teacher bellowed, snatching out a

clipboard with the list of names on it. At that very moment, Ian and Alex stood up from their seats hollering, “Lincoln High School walk-out!”

Immediately, kids around them stood up as well, following them with the same chant. The frail History teacher tried to block the door, sprawling her arms across the frame. But gently, Alex tugged her aside, careful not to be too harmful to her. With a small pull she was moved away from the exit.

The door was swung open and kids poured out of the class. Ian, Alex, and Cesar walked on opposite sides of the hallways, trying to signal the other classes to come out. Each of them bellowed the same chant, often banging their hands on lockers and doors.

One after another, classrooms began to empty, leaving teachers with bewildered looks on their faces. They all gathered down to the main entrance, boys and girls snatching signs from a box tucked be-hind the big brown doors. The students filed out of the school, all run-ning down the front entrance flight of stairs. Ian and many others slid down the steel railing, heading to the front of the pack.

Ian’s heart jumped after hearing a sound of police sirens. They were already there waiting for them. But he charged on, leading the crowd of people to exit through the front gates. Ian looked around and marveled at the multitudes of people cheering alongside him. As they arrived to the front gates he saw around a dozen police cars parked in the street across from school, as well as multiple people with over-sized cameras.

“El Reporteros are here!” he yelled to the others with a smirk on his face.

Policemen waited, standing against the gates. The front of the crowd hesitantly continued forward at the sight of the policeman with bats to their sides.

Beside Ian, Gerome asked, “They wouldn’t use those....right?” Ian tried to sound confident, responding with a No....They

wouldn’t.. But he too did not know how far they would go with it. He

could not guarantee any of these people’s safety. He now felt intimi-dated, afraid of moving to the gate. But he knew that he had to push forward, since they had come this far.

Pushing towards the front, he screamed, “Chicano!” He heard hundreds of voices boom behind him in response “Chi-

cano!” Ian broke into a sprint, with others tentatively following be-hind him. Holding a sign in his left hand, he tried pushing the fence open.

Ian’s heart sank as policemen jumped into action without hesita-tion. He dodged away from them, trying to break the gates open. As he slammed his body into the gates, he looked behind him. Ian saw many of his friends and classmates on the floor, being beaten by sev-eral policemen. He paused, his hands still clinging onto the gates. He saw Alvaro being chased down by police, he saw two girls pinned to the ground shrieking, he saw kids he had never talked to being beaten and pulled by the hair.

Next to him, Alex snapped at him. “Ian, help open the gates,” he howled. Turning his back on the

scene, Ian began to slam against the gates. It took several tries, but eventually, the chain that bound the front gates together snapped open. He was the first to burst out from the school and into the streets, with more kids following after. Policemen climbed out of their cars, running towards him. Ian heard screams and shrieks around, he heard policemen shouting, he heard the sounds of bats thrashing against his classmates, he heard sobs, he heard cries for help.

A policeman thundered to him saying, “If you don’t want any harm, stop this right now!”

One part of Ian cried for it to stop, not wanting to witness any-more people getting hurt. But another knew that it would be foolish to stop, and that they needed to proceed forward.

Ian hauled himself onto a police car, picking up a sign from the floor. Building up all the anger he held inside from both school and his father, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “CHICANO! VIVA LA RAZA.”

After that very moment, everything became a blur. He was thrown to the ground. He winced as he hit the blacktop, blood emerged from his forehead. There were around four policemen sur-rounding him, each grabbing one of his limbs. They kicked his body over, quickly slapping handcuffs onto his wrists. In the corner of his

34

The Road to Nowhereeye he saw other kids move forward, running into the streets. Cesar had taken a glance at him before barreling forward.

“Seguir,” Ian croaked as they carried him away, slowly losing consciousness. He closed his eyes to the sound of footsteps, students running, the chants of Chicano fading in the distance.

“Damien, come see this,” Amaia shrieked. Damien rushed from the kitchen to where his wife was, afraid that she had hurt herself. But instead he was directed to the TV Her face was astonished as he ar-rived, pointing towards the screen.

“Hijo,” she whispered, covering her mouth. Baffled, he looked closer. Atop a police car he saw his own son, holding up a sign and screaming Chicano!

“Ian,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “What have you done?”

Suddenly, they both watched his son being pushed off the car, falling to the floor. The camera zoomed away, now displaying the stu-dents sprinting out of the school.

“Ian! Mi pobre hijo! él está lastimado!” Amaia cried, tears streaming out of her eyes. In an instant, Damien stormed out of the room, snatching his coat from his chair. He slipped his sleek black shoes on and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” his wife screeched, stumbling out of his office. Ignoring her, he slammed the door and quickly hopped into his car.

His stomach began to churn thinking of his son, taking part in a revolution. The guilt quickly grew as he drove on, he was beginning to feel regret.

Ian awoke, laying on a cold concrete floor. It felt as if someone was continuously pounding his head, the pain from his fall still un-barable. He felt his hair, which was still wet with blood. His hands were stained as well. He hauled himself to sit up and lean against the wall. He had realized  was surrounded by steel bars.

Around him in the cramped space were other kids. Some he knew, some he didn’t. They all appeared to have participated in school walkouts as well, for they too were beaten and unable to stand up straight. Though he could not go on, he still felt at ease. Alex, Ce-sar, his friends, and hundreds more were still going forward. He knew they were going to succeed, regardless of whether or not he was there with them.

Ian felt that he had fulfilled something internally. His life felt bal-anced, his feelings were let out, his mind was at peace for once. He did all he could to make a change in not only his life, but in the lives of the other Chicanos. He could now lay peacefully in the cell await-ing for someone to determine what would happen to him. He closed his eyes, content with himself and his new identity as a Chicano.

Before slipping into sleep, he heard the sound of a door burst open. Although his vision was blurry, he made out a familiar tall fig-ure coming towards the cell.

“Ian,” the person choked, reaching out to him through the cell bars. From the moment he heard the man’s voice, he knew it was his father. Ian was surprised at how gentle he sounded, for he expected him to be furious with him.

“Papá,” Ian croaked, his voice weak from all the yelling. Without saying a word his father pulled him into an embrace, tears welling out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, squeezing Ian. “There’s a lot I need to tell you. But let me start with this. My name is Ráymon.”

36

The Road to Nowhere

Mexico

El Toque de Miedo – Lydia Amaniel………………….…….....41Mi Futuro – Savreen Kang………….…………………..……...51La Nueva Vida – Jesus Lopez……………………………..……59

In 2008, Los Zetas controlled the streets of Mexico. They instilled fear in anyone who dared to cross them. These three short stories come to life, with the perspective of young adults, that try to paint a picture of their futures. Struggles, loss, and conflicts are certain, but how will these characters deal with reality? You will get a glimpse of the immigration process, and the emotional effect the situation has on these characters. Gabriela, Florencia, and Jose are forced to embark on a new journey that few survive.

38

The Road to Nowhere

El Toque de Miedo

Lydia AmanielThis country is filled with violence. Los Zetas control the streets

terrorizing the civilians, terrorizing me. Everyone is living in fear, there is no safe space, they’ve invaded the entire country. One by one students are dropping out of school, joining them or running away ter-rified of what might happen to them or their family. I lay in bed star-ing blankly at the ceiling in my almost claustrophobic room. The walls are a plain grey cement, a picture of the Mexican flag is hung in the corner, rips around the edges. There is one small bed in the corner, adorned with thin plain white sheets. The floors are the same grey color, cold to the touch. There are no windows, no light, no hope.

My father has to pull me out of bed every morning, “Es la hora de ir a la escuela.”

I don’t want to go, I don’t want to be afraid but I know I don’t have a choice. I slowly get out of bed to prepare for the long day ahead. My brother and I finally reach our destination. The buildings are old and worn down, el policía guard every entrance. Fences lined with barbed wire surround the entire perimeter of the school. Anthony walks me to school every morning, smothering me to make sure I get there safely. When I look at him I don’t see my brother, not anymore. I see a traitor, someone who’s willing to hurt and kill people for their own benefit. He claims that it’s the only way to keep us safe. That we would be dead if he hadn’t joined them, if he hadn’t become a Los Zeta.

“Que tengas un buen día,” he tells me sullenly.I walk away trying my best to ignore him. I proceed to walk

closer and closer to the front doors, the guards faces completely stoic. I politely nod and enter the school, kids lining the halls, no one is making a sound. That’s how it is now, there’s no joy anymore. I re-member when school felt like a privilege, now it feels like a punish-ment. I take a deep breath and pray that nothing will happen to me, or my family, not again. The amount of pain that we’ve endured is more than enough to last a lifetime. Sometimes it feels never ending, like it will never get better, but it has to. I finally reach my classroom there are only twelve other students here, a few years ago there would have

40

The Road to Nowherebeen forty, but they slowly started to disappear, along with the proof of their existence. The classrooms are tiny, the walls a simple white color, the floors are cement. The windows which used to bring in light and fresh air are now bolted shut with wooden panels. It’s still silent, Mr. Julio, our teacher, is running late. I grab some worksheets out of my bag and silently start working, the other students join me. Every now and then someone would whisper asking for help, the sounds of pencils hitting paper is the only other sound heard.

Eventually Mr. Julio enters the classroom, the loud bang of the door grabbing everyone’s attention. “Hola aula lo siento por llegar tarde, nos vamos a perder más tiempo. La primera lección será acerca de la violencia que está sucediendo actualmente en México. ¿Los Ze-tas alguna vez has oído hablar de ellos?”

Los Zetas, when you hear that name chills run down your spine; they are ruthless. They are the main drug cartel in Mexico, if anyone dares to compete with them, they’ll have you killed in minutes. They started out as a group of ex-military men, they gained skills from be-ing trained in brutal conditions. If you refused to join them, they would kill you and everyone you cared about. If you did join them they would make sure you had everything you needed in life, and maybe more, the downside is you have to kill. That’s just part of the job, you have to be merciless.

“Este pasado fin de semana durante el grito de Dolores cele-bración, Los Zetas lanzaron dos granadas contra la multitud. Matando a ocho personas y dejando a más de un centenar de heridos,” Mr. Julio says with disgust. Most students have grown not to care, they’re so accustomed to death happening around them but my heart clenches is my chest.

“Voy a mostrar un video, es muy gráfico Los Zetas se decap-itación sus enemigos,” Mr. Julio’s voice shakes. The reason they post of videos of themselves beheading their enemies is to show how pow-erful they really are.  

One of the guards abruptly walks inside.“Se tiene que ir, ir a casa ahora mismo,” he threatens.

I immediately get up and grab my stuff, these things happen all of the time. Violence has become the new normal, gang activity is often near our school which is why they make us leave and go home early. I know I should call Anthony or my dad but they won’t answer, our family no longer feels like a family. I leave the building, dark clouds

cover almost the entire sky, but small rays of sun still manage to shine through. Reminding me of happier times, when my mom was here. My family has always struggled financially but we’ve always had enough, until we didn’t. It all became too much for my family to han-dle, my parents worked constantly, my brother and I were in school trying to get an education but it was never enough.

My mom knew that things would only get worse, she told my dad to leave, go to America and send us money. He refused, he was terri-fied of the journey and getting caught, but my mom wasn’t, she had the motivation and the drive. Most of the time it is the men who leave to America, but my mother wasn’t the stereotypical woman. She was very strong, she was willing to do anything for her children, she left to America for us. I was forced to grow up without my mother, she was my rock and my role model, I cherished every moment that we spent together. I was only ten years old when she told me she was going to help us pick this family back up off their feet.

“Te amo hija, voy a estar fuera, pero volveré,” she promised. I was too young to understand what she meant, I didn’t know where she was going, she refused to tell me.

“No mamá, no me dejes,” I begged. I didn’t want her to leave me, she never told me when she would come back.

I finally make it back home after spending less than thirty min-utes at school. Anthony isn’t home and neither is my father. My dad didn’t tell me he was leaving this morning, I don’t know where he could have gone, he hasn’t been working recently. He is constantly in and out of work, especially after my mom decided to leave us. The painful memories are still fresh in my mind, I don’t want these thoughts to haunt me anymore, I need to move on. I sit at the table and pull out the rest of my math worksheet. I need something, any-thing to distract me, but nothing works. I feel myself drifting off but instead of a dream I’m greeted with a nightmare.

“Hola papá. ¿Dónde está mamá?” I question remembering our conversation from late last night.

“Ella se fue de viaje, ella va a volver pronto,” my dad assures me, trying to take away my worries, but deep down I knew something was wrong.

A firm calloused hand shakes my shoulder, waking me from my sleep. My tired eyes take a second to adjust, but I then see my father. I remember everything so vividly from that day, my father was too em-

42

The Road to Nowherebarrassed to tell my brother and I where my mother went, and why she left us. I was forced to grow up and live without my mother, I never heard from her but I knew that one day I would see her again. Eventually the guilt became too much for him to bear and he told us the truth. At first Anthony and I ignored him, refusing to even look him in the eyes, months had passed and there was still no word from my mother. My father should have stepped up and been a man, our entire situation could’ve been easily prevented if he left instead of her. Money was even more scarce, we barely got any food on our plates, my father had stopped working at this point. I was only ten, I didn’t know what to do, or how to help my family but Anthony did. He started working odd jobs, he had no choice but to drop out of school or else we wouldn’t have survived.

“Hola, ¿estás bien?” my father says carefully.“Estoy bien, ahora deja por favor,” I reply with an edge to my

voice. Memories are still flooding through my mind, reminding me of the past.

One day Anthony decided to join the military and help fight for our country, I didn’t want him to do it, but the benefits were too hard to ignore. He was gone for a while, every now and then there would be a phone call or a surprise visit but for the most part there was noth-ing. Until a couple years ago when he came home for good. At first I was filled with joy, my dad and I never had a strong relationship, so when I found out my brother was back I was ecstatic. He left the mili-tary and said he was back to working odd jobs, anywhere that needed help but that didn’t explain how we had more than ever before. I was able to get new clothes, there wasn’t a day my plate was empty. My family finally had everything we needed in order to survive, but it didn’t make sense, nothing was adding up. My father’s only job for a while was waking me up in the morning. While I went to school, An-thony was working at some of his mysterious jobs. Yet this is the most financially stable my family had ever been, and that’s when I discovered his secret.

“¿Anthony, cómo estás haciendo esto?” I question, knowing that things weren’t adding up.

“¿Qué quieres decir?” he asks nervously.“¿Cómo estás ganando todo este dinero? Nuestra familia nunca

ha tenido este,” I demand. I’ve never been strong I have always felt weak but I knew something was wrong. He’s my only real family and I need him to tell me the truth, I need him to trust me like how I trust

him. I wish I didn’t though, I should have left him alone because sometimes knowing the truth is worse than believing a lie.

“Estoy confiando en ti, pase lo que pase, no puedes decir a papá.” His tone is cold. “Yo no tenía opción, yo tenía que unirse a el-los,” he continues, no emotion to his voice.

“¿De qué hablas?” I ask again, still confused as to what he was talking about.

“Por eso me uní a Los Zetas,” he finally reveals. I didn’t expect him to tell me that he joined a gang, I didn’t expect him to tell me that they threatened us, his family.

I didn’t know what to think or to believe, my brother was my role model someone I could look up to, but my image of him will be for-ever tainted. My mother left to give us a better life, she wanted to help us but if she could see our family now all she would feel is disap-pointment. We needed the money, we were barely alive before but what makes our lives more valuable than the ones who are being killed. Now this is our reality, my brother is a killer who’s in one the most deadly gangs of all time, and my dad does nothing all day. I have let myself become a victim instead of doing something, I could’ve worked and tried to help provide for my family. Instead I went to school and ignored the mess my family got into, when they needed me most I wasn’t there. Now it’s too late, they’re far too gone.

As I’m sitting on my bed I can hear my dad talking on the phone in a hushed voice, my curiousness takes over, so I walk to the living room. I see my dad gripping the cheap house phone, his knuckles turning white.

“¿Qué pasó Papá?” I asked concernedly. His eyes showed signs of pain. I haven’t seen him like this in years. Each time he tries to tell me what’s  wrong, he’s unable to speak until sobs escape his mouth once again. He hands me the phone, and I cautiously take it from him, holding against my ear. The only thing I hear is the sound of some-one’s breath, like they’re struggling for air.

“Hola, ¿quién es?” I whisper, I look at my dad to try and get some answers, but I see him sitting on the couch his head in his hands.

“Gabriela, estaré ahí pronto, dile a tu papá.” I recognize the voice instantly, my cousin Florencia. She sounded like she was pain, her voice cracking at the end.

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The Road to Nowhere“Lo siento mucho mija,” my father cries. There is a pit in my

stomach, I knew that whatever he was going to say next would only hurt this family more.

“Cuėntame, yo puedo manejarla,” I beg. He needs to know that I’m not fragile, that I could handle whatever he needed to tell me.

“¿Te acuerdas de mi hermana Maria?” he whispered. Tears are still streaming down his cheeks. He looks more calm than before, but his voice still shook.

“Por supuesto. ¿Qué pasó con ella, es bueno?” I question grow-ing more and more anxious.

“Hubo un accidente, Maria y Carlos estaban en su coche y debe algo golpeado. Allí ha dejado apenas nada del coche y sus cuerpos fueron encontrados en los asientos delanteros. Fueron muertos en medio de ninguna parte,”  he sobs.

My heart stops, and my eyes well up with tears. My tía Maria and tío Carlos are gone, I’m never going to see them again. My body feels numb, it’s too much to process, an endless amount of thoughts are running through my mind. The last time I saw them was Christmas, we were a happy but dysfunctional family and now even that’s gone. It doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t make sense. Anthony walks into the liv-ing room, a look of confusion consumes his features.

“¿Qué pasó?” he questions.“Maria y Carlos están muertos,” I choke out. Anthony’s face in-

stantly turns blank, but he doesn’t seem surprised. He quickly leaves the room, desperately trying to get away from this situation. Before I can question him, I hear a couple knocks on our door, I rush to answer it.

“Hola, la policía me llevó aquí,” Florencia chokes out, I quickly let her into the house, My heart aches at the sight of her, my cousin and best friend is having to deal with the loss of her parents. I run up and embrace her in my arms, she reluctantly hugs me back. I can feel her tears staining my shirt as she sobs into my shoulder.

“Lo siento Florencia, you shouldn’t have to be going through this,” I whisper trying to hold my tears in, trying to be strong for her.

“Aquí, usted puede quedarse en mi habitación,” I say while walk-ing.

I walk Florencia to our room, tear stains mark her face, I leave her alone knowing that it’s best to let her grieve in peace. We were very close when we were younger, we did everything together despite her being two years older than me. That all changed when her family

moved a town over, it became harder and harder to keep in touch but when we did see each other during holidays it felt like we were little kids again.

I walk to Anthony’s room, his door is left open. His room is dark, the curtains are closed, the bed hasn’t been made, and clothes are strewn across the floor. I know he can feel me staring, but he’s avoid-ing my gaze.

“¿Puedes creer que María y Carlos se han idos? Nunca vamos a verlos de Nuevo,” I say, realization hitting me once again. Anthony being Anthony doesn’t answer,  instead he’s ignoring me and acting as if he can no longer hear.

“Sí, esto es insano,” he reluctantly responds. His hands are trem-bling, he grabs the water from his desk and quickly takes a sip.

“Usted está actuando diferente. ¿Qué pasó? Sé que algo está mal,” I say worriedly, he seems really shaken up.  He starts to bite his nails, an old habit of his, he then runs his fingers through his hair, clearly distressed. The air in the room continues to thicken, the cold-ness nips at my skin adding to the discomfort.

“Hice algo mal y me gustaría poder tomar de nuevo pero no puedo,” Anthony’s voice trembles.

“¿Qué hiciste?” I ask, the worst possible scenarios playing in my head.

“Yo los mate,” he cries. My entire world stops, my throat tight-ens, restricting my breathing.

“¿Cómo pudiste? ¡Eran nuestra familia!” I scream while backing away, trying to get away from the monster I call brother.

“No entiendes, no tuve opción. Debieron dinero a Los Zetas,” he tries to defend himself.

“That doesn’t matter, you don’t kill family, Anthony,” I say blankly.

“Tuve que o que iban a matarme y usted. Necesito proporcionar para esta familia,” he says, his jaw clenches.

“¿Qué acerca de Florencia, how do you think she feels losing her family?” I whisper, the tears returning to my eyes.

“¿Cómo podría hacer esto a mí? Usted es mi familia, te traté como un hermano,” Florencia yells, her hands ball up into fists. Tears of sadness have turned into tears of anger. Anthony walks away, not a single word said.

46

The Road to NowhereI grab Florencia’s hand and take her back to my room, I grab a

blanket off of the bed and lay it on the floor.“¿Es aquí donde vas a dormir?” Florencia questions. “Puedo

dormir en el piso.”My mind feels numb, and I don’t have the energy to energy to ar-

gue who sleeps where, so I lay down on the blanket. The cool floor helps ease the pain of my burning and stinging eyes, I quickly fall asleep.

I wake up, my back is stiff and my eyes swollen, Florencia is ly-ing on the bed staring at the ceiling.

“Estoy dejando,” she says, her face blank. I quickly sit up, know-ing I must have heard her incorrectly.

“Did you just say you’re leaving?” I question, absolutely shocked.

“Sí, me voy, no puedo quedarme aquí. Mis padres fueron as-esinados por mi primo, tengo que dejar,” she says her voice unwaver-ing, while packing her few things.

“Por favor no deje, eres la única familia que tengo confiar,” I beg while grabbing her hand hoping to convince her to change her mind.

“Yo he compuesto mi mente, me voy. Necesito hacer esto, no puedo quedarme aquí, ven conmigo,” Florencia says with no emotion while she pulls her hand away.

“¿Dónde iría?Hemos vivido en México toda nuestra vida,” I groan in frustration.

“América, voy allá. Voy a vivir el sueño Americano, del que to-dos hablan,” Florencia says.

“I could go with you and find my mother, that’s all I’ve wanted since the day she left, but what if she’s not there. I’ve haven’t seen or heard her voice for almost five years, it’s easier to believe that she’s alive. What if when we get there, if we even make it, I find out she’s dead?” I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks. I’ve been imagining this entire time that my mom made it America, and she’s been having fun, I don’t want anything to ruin that fantasy.

“I just lost both of my parents, there’s a chance that your mother’s alive, you have to look for her,” Florencia persists. Deep down I know she’s right but I don’t know if I can handle that.

I’ve always imagined living in America, going to a nice school, and being able to see my mother everyday. It’s what I’ve always wanted, I know she’s alive she has to be, and I’m going to find her.

“I’m leaving with you.”

48

The Road to Nowhere

Mi Futuro

Savreen KangI wake up with sweat all over my face, my body shaking with

fear. I turn to look around, I see my cousin lying on the bed next to me. I come to the conclusion that my nightmare isn’t reality. Memo-ries flood my brain with  terrorizing images reminding me of my loss, reminding me of what I need to do, to get away from Mexico. It is my home, but it is too dangerous to stay here. I try falling asleep again, but I can’t. I look over at Gabriela, she is slightly shaking because of the coldness that surrounds us.

I look around me, we are lying beside an abandoned building on the ground. I see no one around us through the dark, I feel relieved. As I lay back down I start thinking about my life three months ago, and how it has changed drastically. I was happy, I had my parents, I was even quite gullible. I was able to trust anyone. Now my eyes are empty, my body is filled with anxiety, and I can’t trust anyone. My brain brings me back to the night where I made the biggest decision of my life, it was only a couple of weeks ago. I had overheard my cousins, Gabriela and Anthony talking. I was in my room cleaning, until I heard noises in the room beside me. I walked over, I saw Gabriela and Anthony talking in hushed voices.

“Bien fina que era yo. Me avergüenzo, no me refiero a que ter-mine como este,” Anthony had said loudly, as if trying to defend him-self. I was suddenly very curious as to what he was talking about.

“I can’t believe you would do something like this, she is family. Because of you she is all alone,” Gabriela said, sounding a little an-gry. My heart dropped to my stomach. Are they talking about what I think they are? Is it me, are they talking about me?

“Usted no los conoce como yo, si no mataba a los padres de Flo-rencia, que había matado a mí, que hubiera padre incluso muertos y,” said Anthony nervously.

As realization hit me, I fell to my knees and began sobbing. An-thony and Gabriela came out,  Gabriela instantly comforted me, while Anthony stared at me quietly.

I started yelling at him,“Cómo pudiste!” Anthony put his face in his hands.

50

The Road to NowhereI was in shock. I had to get away from here, because I just real-

ized that my family had hid this from me the whole time. I felt anger surging through my body, until I was numb from all the pain. I had to get out of here. I had to leave, I had nothing left here. My parents were murdered, my cousin was hiding information from me, I can’t trust anyone anymore. This town is dangerous, and I need to get away. A loud sob escaped from my mouth, my back against the wall, and I slowly sunk down against it. Anthony kept apologizing, a shocked look on his face. Gabriela started crying as she held my hand. The memory is so fresh and vivid in my mind, replaying in my head constantly.

I was rushed out of my daydream, and forced back into reality.  I shake Gabriela awake, she opens her eyes and looks at me, a confused look on her face.

“Tenemos que empezar ahora si queremos llegar al U.S para el jueves,” I say cautiously.

It was only Tuesday, it usually takes two days to get to Texas. She nods her head and quickly starts to pack her things. Once every-thing is packed, we start walking. We know that there is going to be a long journey ahead. We only brought a few things with us. We have water, some clothes, money, and a blanket. I was lucky enough to be able to purchase a map, which would help guide us to our destination, Brownsville, Texas. I have heard many things about people trying to get to the United States, many have died. There are also some that have made it.

Gabriela’s mother, my aunt, left for the U.S when we were both little, she left because they were having trouble with money. They were hoping that if she went to the U.S. they would finally be able to thrive. One day she left, and she never called again. No one has heard from her since, we don’t know where she is, or if she even survived. I know Gabriela is anxious, and she is worried about what could hap-pen, but I promised I would protect her at any cost. I remember the day I told her, I would be leaving. She didn’t want me to go because she was scared of how dangerous this journey is.

I remember I had pulled Gabriela into our room, as she sat down on the bed I told her, “Me voy,” my voice strained. I didn’t even rec-ognize it.

She turned and looked at me with a concerned look. She grabbed my hand and pulled it close to hers, “No se puede salir de mí, eres la única familia que tengo, el único que puede confiar.” I pulled my

hand away, and told her I’ve made up my mind. I told her this is im-portant for me.

She turned and told me confidently, “Entonces me voy con usted.”

We both knew the town was dangerous. We could feel the terror hit us, as soon as we arrived. Children try to scurry to school without being caught or killed. Gangs roam the streets looking for their next victim, and you can smell the danger in the air. Whoever lives here will live in fear for the rest of their lives. There are safe places here in Mexico, but not if you don’t have enough money, or if you are part of a gang.

We received a lot of curious gazes along the way, probably won-dering what two girls are doing so early in the morning. Most people take the train to make their way from Mexico to the U.S. I had de-cided that Gabriela and I should take the long route. We will walk all the way there. We have both heard of many stories of the dangers that the train or that route brings. There are many people who can take ad-vantage of you, they are known to steal all your money and belong-ings, and many girls that have traveled alone are taken advantage of. Since we lived in San Fernando, Tamaulipas, the journey to Texas will take twenty-eight hours by foot. I knew that it would be a rougher path, but it would definitely be a safer one, and my priority was safety.

Once we made it to El Moquetito, we were about halfway there. We decide to stop, and set up to sleep here for the night. We go to the small shack along the street, and buy some food. The town used to be quaint, small lights illuminate the streets. Now, gang signs plaster al-most every wall. Insects chirp nervously in the background. We quickly make our way to the corner of the street. After we finish eat-ing, we lay down, and look up at the sky. There’s an uncomfortable silence among us.

“Lo siento,” Gabriela says meekly. I turn to her, and look at her surprised.

“Para qué?” I ask. “Lo siento para todo, Anthony ha hecho, por sus padres, y todo lo

que tenía que pasar por,” she says. She sounds like she has done something wrong.

52

The Road to Nowhere“It’s okay, and what Anthony did was not your fault, we have to

focus on our future, we need to leave our past behind us,” I tell her. She nods silently.

By the morning, we’re on our way once again. We have about thirteen hours of walking remaining. Since last night, I have had a feeling that someone is watching us. I am very cautious now, I pull Gabriela close to me, and we walk faster than before.

By the evening we had been walking for a few hours, and were exhausted. We stop for some food and water. There’s no one around and it’s awfully quiet around. We try our best to find a place that is open, but no one is around. All of a sudden we hear a rustling behind us, Gabriela looks at me scared.

“Qué fue eso,” she asks quietly, as she looks around.“No sé, probablemente sólo el viento,” I say reassuring her and

myself.We start walking again, trying to find a place to eat. Soon, it will

be dark outside, and not many places will be open. It seems like there’s no one nearby. I look around and I see shadows of people. At first, I thought it might be someone that could possible help us, but I hear deep voices, talking in hushed tones. I become worried. I look over at Gabriela, she gives me a confused look. I shake my head, let-ting it go. All of a sudden, I hear gunfire. I am confused, and scared. I take Gabriela’s hand, I start leading her quickly to a small shed that looks like it had once been a home. I look out and see men walking around. I take a step back, my heart beating hard in chest. I quickly recognize them as Los Zetas. Are they here for us? I ask myself. I turn to Gabriela.

“Creo que Los Zetas están aquí,” I tell her nervously.“Son después de nosotros, o están simplemente caminar?”

Gabriela asks.“No sé, parece como que están buscando a alguien,” I say as I

look outside once again. They were coming closer. I quickly tell Gabriela to hide, as I see

them making their way towards the shed. I find a large cabinet, and I see that there is space underneath. I pull myself under and stay there quietly, hoping Gabriela finds a good place to hide. I hear the door open, quietly making a soft creaking noise. I hold my breath as I hear footsteps across the room. I had no idea whether or not they were looking for us, or if they were just roaming around. I was hoping they

wouldn’t notice Gabriela and I. There was no reason as to why they would want us, we have no involvement with the gang.

I was scared and confused, this can’t be happening. I promised I would be able to protect her. I wrap my hand around my mouth so they can’t hear my breath. I know Gabriela is hiding somewhere in this shed, and I am hoping they won’t be able to find either of us. I keep my body still as I hear and see footsteps across the room, head-ing straight to my hiding place. The person stops right in front of me, fear enters my body, paralyzing me. I try to hold my hand to my mouth tighter, praying that I won’t make a sound. I let out a breath of relief as they walk past me. I hear them opening a door, then the shrill of Gabriela’s scream. Fear fills my body, and my heart starts beating loudly. They had caught her, her shrieks filling the empty room. I had to do something, I had to save her. As I was about to get out from my spot, I hear Gabriela scream, “No se mueva. ¡PERMANECER! Matarán a ti también.”

I debate whether or not I should go out and help her. Los Zetas were ruthless, they would kill without question. As I was about to climb out, I hear a gun shot fire. My heart drops. Tears prickle the corner of eyes. They shot her, and I didn’t do anything to help. I am useless. I broke my promise, I am weak and now she has to suffer. I have no one left now.

“Tome su cuerpo, y colocarlo frente a la casa de Anthony. Él debe saber lo que pasa si te roban el dinero de Los Zetas,” a man says, in a deep voice.

I was shocked, I was surprised when Anthony gave us money for the journey, I thought that he earned it. It came to my surprise that he had stolen it. I felt pure hatred towards him, he is the reason now that I have no one. He killed off my parents, and he killed my best friend, my cousin, the only family I have left. Once I am sure that they are gone, I slowly come out from under the cabinet, with tears rolling down my cheeks, my vision still blurry. I see blood all over the ground, but no sign of her body. I run to the spot, and start crying un-controllably. She was truly gone.

I sit there all night, grieving, and feeling the absence of her pres-ence. I was all alone. I had no one, there was no one here for me, no one to look after me. I keep reminding myself to be strong, but I keep breaking down.

54

The Road to NowhereI wake up with tear stains streaking down my face. I look down

and see the blood, as last night's events come rushing into my head. I stand there emotionless. I feel drained of energy, my family is gone, and I have no one. I find mine and Gabriela’s bags outside the door, and grab them as I feel tears still rolling down my face. I feel like I am dreaming. It doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t feel like reality, but it is.

I am confused right now, I sit down. It feels like hours, all I have been thinking about is Gabriela. My life seems to have no purpose anymore. I feel like a little girl who is lost, who is forced to keep on living in this cruel, dark world. I feel like I should go back to San Fer-nando and tell my uncle about what has happened. That would mean that I would have to stay there for the rest of my life. I know that I have already made it this far, it would be hard to go back. I sit for a while more, as I think about my two options. I close my eyes, as I take myself back to my safe place back at home. I remember the night before I left, I visited my safe place. It helped clear my mind. I take myself back to that day.

I breathe in the air that smells of smoke and gunpowder. I turn to my right and I see a small child walking in the streets, he looks lost and confused. I turn my head to the left and I see some men in their late 20’s smoking, as if life is good and nothing is wrong. I look around at the town, I see trees for miles until they disappear into noth-ing. I want to disappear. As I leave my safe space, I have decided, I have made my choice. I quickly leave to go home, getting one last glance before I leave forever.

I open my eyes, and I feel like I know what to do. My mind is telling me to go back and tell my uncle, but my heart is telling me to get away from this town, from all the dangers it has. I need to follow my heart. I left that place for a reason, to get away, and to start a new life, and now that is what I have to do. I have to leave behind the weak little girl, I need to find the strong women inside of me.

I find my map from my bag, and see I only had a couple more hours left to get to the U.S. I grab Gabriela’s bag as well as mine and start walking. It’s really hot so I grab some water before I leave. Through the rest of the journey, I keep thinking about how my life has changed so much. It went from one moment where I had all my fam-ily, to another, where they were all gone.

After a while, I can see it. I see that I am very close. With each step, I take a step forward to my future, a step away from my past, a step to my new self. A girl who is broken and has been through hell,

but managed to get through it, and is ready for a fresh start. As I keep walking towards the United States, I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. Gabriela was supposed to come with me, we could’ve made it here together. As I look up at the sky, I manage a smile. I wish she was here to see this, I wish my parents were here. I finally got away from all the danger, from all the struggles. As I take some of my last steps in Mexico, I turn back one last time, reminiscing the past. I step into the U.S, where my new life will begin. I have changed so much throughout this journey. I am now a determined, strong woman. My life had been turned upside down, I was and I am all alone, but I managed to survive.

56

The Road to Nowhere

La Nueva Vida

Jesus LopezAs Jose Luis is supervising the crop fields during his normal af-

ternoon routine, he is approached by his uncle Victor.“Jose Luis, ya hiciste el trabajo que te mande hacer?” asked uncle

Victor.“Si, tio,” replied Jose Luis.“Buen trabajo, ahora te voy a mandar a hacer otro trabajo,” said

uncle Victor.Jose Luis has been working tirelessly all morning and has some

curiosity of what the job might be.   “De que se trata el trabajo, tio?” asked Jose Luis. “Se trata de hacer una venta de 100 lbs de marijuana,” answered

uncle Victor.With slight anxiety, Jose Luis was ready for this exchange. “Muy bien, a donde vamos a ver al cliente, tio?” asked Jose Luis.“Lo vamos a ver allá en la bodega abandonada,” replied uncle

Victor.The abandoned warehouse has been used for many exchanges.

This was a small relief for Jose Luis because he is familiar with the location.

“Bien a qué hora nos juntamos, tío?” asked Jose Luis.“Nos juntamos a las 4 de la tarde,” replied uncle Victor.“Bien,” responded Jose Luis. Uncle Victor started to walk away, but returned to ask Jose Luis

about some safety concerns. “Jose Luis, también tienes que escoger a los muchachos que

quieres llevarte para la bodega. Si algo pasa, tendremos seguridad afuera de la bodega.”, asked uncle Victor.

Jose Luis was also thinking about the safety concerns during the conversation and had some men in mind.

“Bien, pues los muchachos más preparados para llevar al trabajo son Gabriel como chofer, y Ricardo como mirador y guarda espalda,” replied Jose Luis.

58

The Road to NowhereJose Luis Guzman Loera is part of one of the biggest drug cartels

in Mexico. He is one of the leaders in the Los Zetas cartel. Jose Luis runs a group of men who help with the daily activities needed to run the production of goods in the organization. Some of the daily jobs in-clude working in Marijuana field, processing and packaging the drug, making deliveries, and cash handling. Jose Luis has been in the cartel for half his life, since he was 12. He is now 24.  

“Estan listos? Vamonos!” said Jose Luis “Ya están todos los paquetes listos, patrón,” replied one of the

men.They started driving to the meetup location where they were go-

ing to meet the client who had asked for one-hundred pounds of mari-juana. Jose Luis and his crew took the product to an abandoned beer factory in Mazatlan. They packed the product in a crate that is ready to transport. They arrived to the location, and Jose Luis called Ri-cardo, one of the men in his crew, that was inside the building to open the gate so they can bring in the crate with the product. Jose Luis had armed men surround the building just in case some trouble hap-pened.The client, Carlos, got of his car and walked to the middle of the factory where Jose Luis was waiting for him with the product.

“¿Hola, Carlos, como estas?” Jose Luis asked.“¿Muy bien, y tu, Jose Luis?” replied Carlos. Carlos handed over the money to Jose Luis and Gabriel verified

that it was all there. Carlos then walked up to the product and checked it out to see if it was the amount of product he asked for in the crate then had his men load the crate to a truck so they can leave.

As they began to load everything, one of Jose Luis’ men shouted “La chota!!!!”.

So everybody scattered like mice and hid inside the building waiting in position to start shooting at the cops. Jose Luis, his uncle, his cousin, and Carlos ran to an office that was in the very back of the building so they can hide and ran out through the back door in case that the cops got to them. They started hearing rushing boot steps that were coming from the hallway so they grabbed their guns and loaded them so they could start shooting at the cops. They started shooting towards the cops trying to keep them away from getting close to them.

Jose Luis wouldn't surrender. He kept shooting towards the cops and Jose Luis shouted, “Vamonos!”

Jose Luis, his uncle, his cousin and Carlos all ran out the back door.When they ran out the door they were still shooting because the cops ran outside behind them and they kept fighting until Gabriel, one of the crew members, drove to where Jose Luis and the other guys were. They all jumped in the car and drove away from the scene as fast as they could because they didn't want to be followed by the cops. Gabriel drove everybody to Jose Luis’s uncle’s house. Once they ar-rived to the uncle's house, they entered the house and all went to the office in the house. They were all very angry because of what hap-pened earlier.

“¿Qué paso? ¿Porque llegó el gobierno?” José Luis shouted with anger.

“¿Cómo sabía el gobierno de donde nos íbamos a ver?” ques-tioned Carlos.

“No se, patron,” replied Gabriel.“Tenemos que enterarnos de cómo fue que la policía nos encon-

tro,” said the uncle.They all wondered how the police found out where they were go-

ing to meet to do the drug deal. They were very angry because the cops showed up to the scene, when they weren't supposed to show up. After thinking about how the cops found out about the location of where the deal was taking place, Jose Luis remembered that an officer stopped them on the way to the location because they were driving past the speed limit.

“¿Oye, tio, te acuerdas de el oficial que nos paró cuando íbamos en camino a ver al cliente?” asked Jose Luis

“ Si me acuerdo,” replied the uncle. “Nos vio medios sospechosos, como si ya sabía que íbamos hacer

y a lo mejor por eso nos paró, pero con la excusa de que íbamos rápido,” wondered Jose Luis.

“A lo mejor si, Jose Luis,” agreed the uncle. “Pues hay que buscarlo y secuestrarlo por haber nos echado la

policía,” demanded Jose Luis. “Pues tenemos que planear todo para secuestrar sin que nos

atrapen,” answered the uncle.“Bien, tio, hay que hablarles a todos para planear todo,” replied

Jose Luis.So they all gathered together and planned out the kidnapping of

officer Garcia. Officer Garcia was the one who told the cops where

60

The Road to Nowherethe drug deal was going to take place because Garcia followed Jose Luis and his crew to the location, but Garcia stayed under cover until all the guys walked into the building then he called for backup. That's how the cops got to the location.

“Ahora va a ver que le va pasar a Garcia por habernos echado a el gobierno cuando estábamos haciendo la venta de drogas,” then Jose Luis mumbled, “Nosotros no jugamos cuando se trata de ir a secues-trar a alguien cuando son chismosos.”

“No te preocupes,sobrino, se va arrepentir de haber nos echado el gobierno,” replied the uncle.

“Ahora si nos vamos a vengar por lo que nos hizo,” mumbled Jose Luis once again, with a evil smile on his face.

“Claro que si, Jose Luis,” answered the uncle with an angry, but evil smile as well.

Today is the day when they will be kidnapping the police officer. This is going to be a good chance to be able to get a lot of money from the government so they can release officer Garcia once we kid-nap him and get revenge.

“Oye Gabriel háblales a todos que vengan, por favor,” demanded Jose Luis, with with a smile on his face.

“Sí patrón,” answered Gabriel.All of Jose Luis’s men came to meet him so he can talk to them

on what's going on today. Since today is the day that they will be do-ing the mission that Jose Luis and his uncle planned which is kidnap-ping officer Garcia without catching anyone's attention especially the government's attention so everything can go as planned.

“Ricardo, tu encargate que los muchachos alisten las camionetas con las pistolas, el mecate, y la bolsa para taparle la cara a Garcia,” demanded Jose Luis with a serious face.

“Sí patrón,” replied Ricardo.“Tu, Gabriel, agarra a dos muchachos y vete a la bodega y esper-

ame ahi. Tambien fijate bien que nadie te siga cuando vayas a la bodega,” said Jose Luis.

“Bien patron,” answered Gabriel.“Bueno,” answered the uncle“Tio, ya mero está todo listo para ir a secuestrar a Garcia,” said

Jose Luis through the phone.“Bien Jose Luis yo ya voy en camino a tu casa,” replied the un-

cle.“Tio, ahorita lo veo entonces,” José Luis answered.

After hanging up with his uncle, he then called Carlos to let him know about everything as well.

“Bueno,” answered Carlos.“Carlos. ya mero estan las cosas lista para ir nos.” said Jose Luis.“Ok, Jose Luis, ahorita te veo ya voy en camino allá.” acknowl-

edged Carlos.“Arre pues, Carlos,” replied Jose Luis. After a while Jose Luis uncle and Carlos arrived ready to leave

and complete this mission they had planned. Everything was ready and loaded in the trucks. They just had to remind everybody on how they were going to kidnap Garcia and what position was each person going to have while they kidnap Garcia and leave.

“Donde va estar ahorita el Garcia?” asked the uncle.“Va estar en su casa ahorita,” replied Jose Luis.“Donde vive?” wondered Carlos.“Vive a unas cuadras del malecon.” answered Jose Luis. They all get on the trucks and drove to Garcia's house. They were

about two blocks away from Garcias house and Jose Luis called ev-eryone on the radio and told them to stop there so they can all get ev-erything ready for the kidnapping and so it can happen fast.

“Ricardo, alista las pistolas”, demanded Jose Luis.“Si, patron”, replied Ricardo.“También alista los mecates y la bolsa para tapar le la cara” José

Luis demanded once again.“Si, patron, ya esta listo,” replied Ricardo.“¿Ya están todos listos para llegarle a Garcia?” asked Jose Luis.“Si, ya estamos listos todos”, replied everybody.“Bien, vamos pues”, said Jose Luis. They all got back in their trucks and kept driving down the last

street to get to Garcia's house. “Ya llegamos vamos,” shouted Jose Luis.“Agarrenlo saquen lo de aki nosotros nos encargamos de su her-

mano,” shouted Victor the uncle while he smacked Garcia's brother with his gun.

“Suban lo ala troca pon le la bolsa en la cabeza.”

62

The Road to Nowhere

Mexico

Endonde Pretenesco?– Melany Velazquez……………….…....67Perro Negro – Natalie Moller……………………...………..…77El Corredor – Matthew Fayad………………..………………..87

Mexico isn’t a place to be for some, forcing people to move from violence to poverty. Authors Melany Velazquez, Natalie Moller and Matthew Fayad express what they have learned about Mexican immi-gration to the United States. These stories express the struggles of those who cross the border or even contemplate migrating from Mex-ico. After all the trouble of making it into the U.S., the fight for a calm ground doesn’t end.

64

The Road to Nowhere

Endonde Pretenesco?

Melany VelazquezEl dia que yo me muera va ser el dia mas feliz de todos los chicos

de aquí. No me quieren aquí pero no es como si tuviera otra opción. Por la culpa de mi papá estoy aquí. Él es el culpable por la muerte de mi mamá y mis dos hermanos. Si no fuera por él, todos estuviéramos juntos como una familia y no en deuda al Chapo que puede ser tu mejor amigo o tu peor pesadilla.

Mi nombre es Salvador. Tengo 19 años y llevo trabajando con el Chapo por 9 años. Cuando mataron a mi familia no tenía de otra, ya que mi papá le debe un montón de dinero y yo se lo tengo que pagar todo al jefe. Yo ya no quiero estar aquí. Al principio me encantaba el jefe, me daba el “amor” de padre que nunca tuve y los chicos me aceptaron a la “familia” que me quitaron tan rápido, el dinero nunca me hizo falta, tenía casa, comida, todo...tu dime, yo lo tenía, todo que no tuve de chico. Mi mamá batallaba mucho con él dinero, ella tenía que hacer todo porque mi papá andaba de borracho. Yo le ayudaba con mis hermanos Joel de 7 años y Alex de 6, como me molestaban pero que daría para tenerlos otra vez. Me acuerdo una vez cuando mi mamá andaba trabajando y los lleve al parque y ellos me pedían que jugara con ellos a las trice. Los extraño mucho como a mi mamá.

Ella siempre quería lo mejor para nosotros, con cada decisión que tomaba, ella hizo de todo para teneros felices y que no estuviéramos pensando en lo malo, en lo que estaba pasando afuera. Pero yo me daba cuenta de todo. Notaba como sus ojos se le mojaban cada vez que no había suficiente comida para nosotros o cuando era invierno y la casa estaba fría su mirada callia. Y en ese tiempo de desesperación yo tomé el camino fácil, se me hizo una buena idea pero fue mi peor error. Nunca pensé que iba a haber tantas cosas tan feas en mi vida. Cada rato miro muertes, yo mato gente inocente en este cochinero.

He oído mucho del otro lado. Muchos hablan de él y suena como un paraiso, yo me quiero ir para alla. Se que hay mucho peligro en cursar pero si esa es la manera de escaparme de todo esto, vale la pena. Quiero irme a un lugar nuevo donde nadie sepa quien soy y a que me dedico. El problema con los carteles es que te dan todo pero cuando te metes ya no hay salida, estas atorado como un perro hasta que te mueras o te maten.

Aquí el jefe es una excepción. El Chapo quiere lo mejor para sus trabajadores pero solamente si  haces lo que él te pide. Si no, no se va a tocar el corazón. Él te va a matar, es mejor no ser amigos con los chicos de aquí porque es fácil que te apuñalan la espalda. Todos viven con terror que el dia que se levanten sea el último, niños que se quedan sin padres, las cosas que mi mamá quería proteger de mí vine a meter. O que vayan a lastimar a su familia, que tengan que matar a alguien pero así es en este trabajo. Aquí nadie se habla, todos sabe-mos mejor. Estás más solo que cuando empezaste, acá no tienes a nadie. Nadie que te quiere o que le importes, aquí es cada quien por su camino y a lo que vienien.

Uno de los problemas que tengo con el cartel no es con el jefe pero con los chicos. Me han odiado, desde que se enteraron de la ver-dad de quien es mi padre. Mi papá hizo mucho para ser la mano derecha del jefe y en el proceso lastimó a muchos de los chicos. Ahora se la quieren pagar conmigo. Ellos siempre estan atras de mi viendo el segundo que me puedan matarme, ellos son mis enemigos más grandes. Excepto uno, uno de los chicos me a aceptado además de quien yo soy y él me ayuda saber que están planeando los chicos porque ellos no saben. Su nombre es Luis, es uno de los nuevos. El también perdió todo igual que yo. Él es uno de los menores, todavía no sabe bien de qué se trata esto...el pobre piensa que es dinero fácil y que esto está bien pero luego se va a dar cuenta que no. Luis se hace pasar como uno de los chicos para ayudarme. Sin él a lo mejor yo tambien ya estuviera muerto. Yo creo que con la ayuda de Luis yo me pueda escapar y irme de este lugar.

El lugar no es feo, si no la gente. El rancho es muy bonito y grande, esta lleno de flores y caballos. Es el rancho más grande y bonito de la ciudad. Si este rancho no fuera para lo que es y no hu-biera el tipo de gente que ahí fuera un lugar maravilloso, a un lugar que yo no me quisiera ir de. Este rancho es todo lo que yo deseaba de chico esto es lo que mi mamá lucha por, es como si lo sacaron de una película. Pero este no es mi lugar yo tengo que mejorar me, tengo que salir adelante y no tener miedo todos los días cuando me levante, parar de matar gente y vender drogas. Yo se que puedo ser mas que vender drogas y matar gente, a mi me encanta contar y soy muy bueno para contar el dinero. A lo mejor yo pudiera estudiar ya que yo nunca puede y trabajar como contador, y comprar una casa grande,

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The Road to Nowhereconocer el amor de mi vida y tener una familia feliz. Pero en estar aquí no me deja estoy atado de manos. Aquí no hago nada que me haga feliz. Me levanto temprano a las cinco de la mañana para cami-nar al caballo, me a listo y desayuno después si él jefe me manda hacer algo pues voy pero se no me quedo aquí con la mercancía y la distribuido para cuando él jefe pida ya este lista y la llevemos con otro cartel, agarramos el dinero y es todo. Ya estoy cansado de esto y quiero algo diferente.

Luis conoce a alguien que me puede ayudar a llegar al otro lado, es un amigo de su tío. Si él me ayuda yo voy a poder salir de aqui.

Siguiente dia:

“Oye Luis” Gritó cuando lo miro salir de su cuarto.“Si” Él contesta“Te tengo que preguntar algo, pero no te puedo decir ahorita. Ve

me en el campo cerca de él rio a las 5.”“¿Umm...ok? Todo esta bien?” Pregunta Luis“Va estar bien luego.” Le contesto y me voy con él jefe. Hoy es

mi dia libre entonces lo voy a usar para ver todo el rancho y ver si hay manera de salir sin que nadie se de cuenta. Voy a empezar con la parte de atras ahi casi no estan los chicos no quiero que ellos sospechen algo. Lo malo de aquí es que todo el lugar está vigilado por todos lados entonces tengo que buscar un lugar donde hay salida y también no haga guardia.

Llego hasta él fin de el rancho y hay más guardias que afrente de el rancho, pues de este lado no se va a poder. Llevo dando vueltas y vueltas todo alrededor de el rancho por todos lados y nomas no le veo salida. Mis pies ya me duelen de tanto caminar y con este calor ya no puedo, ya casi son las 5 mejor me voy a ir al río. Llego al río y me quito los zapatos, dejo que la agua fría toque mis pies calientes siento alivio al estante. Eso sí voy a extrañar el rió, es un lugar solo que nadie viene. Un lugar donde puedo relajarme y borrar todo de mi mente. Todos los árboles altos y verdes, con los pájaros cantando me hacen olvidar todo lo que me esta pasando por un rato.

Puedo oir las hojas en el piso como alguien las pisa y miro a Luis llegar.

“Para qué soy bueno?” Pregunta Luis“Ok confio mucho en ti Luis y necesito tu ayuda.”“Como te puedo ayudar?”

“Tu me dijiste que el amigo de tu tío es un pollero verdad?”“Si? Porque la pregunta Salvador?”“Porque yo ya no quiero estar aquí. Me quiero ir al otro lado y

para eso necesito tu ayuda, necesito que le preguntes en cuanto me sale la cursada al pollero. Después voy a necesitar que me ayudes a salir de aquí sin que nadie se de cuenta.”

“Salvador si alguien se da cuenta de lo que estás pensando y que yo te estoy ayudando los matan a los dos.” Me dice Luis con preocu-pación en su voz.

“Ya se pero todos modos si no lo entiendo me van matar por algo más.” Le digo para conversar lo.

“Salvador yo te ayudo con mucho gusto, pero tu ya lo pensaste bien? Que vas hacer cuando lleges al otro lado? Que tal si él cartel te cacha en el camino?”

“Si Luis ya lo he pensado mil veces y por eso te estoy pidiendo la ayuda, Luis yo ya no puedo vivir asi ya no aguanto mas.” Le digo en desesperación.

“Okay Okay Salvador si tu dices y enserio piensas que es lo mejor entonces yo lo hago con mucho gusto, pero vamos a tener que ser todo con mucha delicadeza me oyes?”

“Si! Si! Gracias! Gracias! Luis sabía que contigo puedo confiar.” Estoy super contento pero a la vez tengo mucho miedo. No quiero las-timar a nadie y se que yo haciendo esto puedo lastimar a Luis pero si no lo hago nunca sabré. Luis se va rápidamente después de nuestra conversación y me deja solo, me pongo a imaginar como va ser mi vida en el otro lado y me pongo feliz.

Semanas después: “SALVADOR! SALVADOR!” Alguien grita,volteo y miro a

Luis viniendo a mi lado. “¿Que tienes Luis?” “Tengo lo que me pediste!” “¿Enserio?!” “Si!”“Okay aquí no se puede hablar a que ir al río.” Y con eso Luis y

yo empezamos a ir al río, los dos en silencio. En este tiempo me pongo a pinsar que ya es más real mi salida y que ya estoy más cerca.

“Okay mi tío me dijo que te va salir en 1,500 pesos te vas a ir por tren”

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The Road to Nowhere“Wow ok” Le digo y tengo dinero orado y me alcanza pero yo se

que es muy peligroso ir por tren.“Salvador estás seguro de tu decisión?” Me pregunta con preocu-

pación. “¿Si Luis, como puedo hablar con él o como le hago?”“¿No te puedo dar su numero pero yo le digo cuando te quieres

ir?”“Lo rápido que se pueda!”“¿Bueno él dijo que él tiene un grupo ya listo y se van a ir la sem-

ana que sigue. No se si tu estés listo o te quieras ir ya?” “Eso suena bien, está perfecto!”“Yo le dijo, pero Salvador piensa lo bien te estas metiendo en

grande peligro.” Con eso yo me fui, Luis tiene razón tengo que pensar esto muy

bien. No es tan fácil como lo estaba pensando es más difícil, tengo que uno salir de aquí sin que él jefe se de cuenta después sigue el camino que también es peligro. Tengo mucho miedo se que si me cachan en tratado de salir me van a matar, pero a la vez en pen-samiento de yo poder salir de aqui es mas grande y es lo que me de ganas de salir. Ahorita mi problema mas grande es como salir de aquí eso es primero me preocupo de lo otro.

Dia siguiente: Creo que tengo una manera de escaparme de él rancho, ayer en la

noche antes de ir me a dormir me puse a pensar en todas las salidas que hay y en maneras de hacer le para ir me. Si me voy para donde es-tán los caballos hay un cerco que tuviera que brincar y luego correr para que lo guardias no me vean. Después voy a ir con él pollero y de ahí él se encarga de guiar me a cómo llegar al otro lado. No puedo lle-var mucho conmigo nomas una mochila chica y que no esté pesada, en la mochila nomas deberia de ver un suéter, un cambio de ropa y algo chico. Ya no puedo esperar a que llegue el viernes para ir me de aquí.

Jueves en la noche:Mis manos están mojadas de los nervios no puedo parar de tem-

blar no se que vaya a pasar conmigo después de esta noche. Mañana en la noche ya me voy. Siento como que estoy en una novela que esto no es real. Cuando me levante voy a checar que todo esté como Luis y yo lo planeamos y  luego ser lo que hago en un dia normal pero en la

noche cuando él jefe y los chicos estén dormidos yo me voy a salir de mi cuarto y ver como me va. Una nueva vida.

Viernes:Hoy es él dia. El dia que mi vida cambia. Tengo mucho miedo

toda la noche estaba rezando pidiendole a dios que todo salga bien y a mi mamá que me proteja de haya riba. No podía dormir pensando en todo lo que me puede pasar y lo único que me venía a la mente irá la muerte, pero que tengo que perder no tengo nada. Asi si me voy si voy a tener algo que perder la oportunidad de tener una mejor vida, donde no este atado de manos y pueda ser algo de mimoso. Ya está oscureciendo y todos acabaron con su trabajo eso significa que ya casi es tiempo. En una hora todas las luces se apagan y todos se van a dormir, me voy a esperar otra hora para que todos estén dormidos y no me vean. Miró todo alrededor de mi cuarto y me pongo a pensar si asi va ser en el otro lado o si va ser mejor que esto, no se que esperar pero cualquier cosa es mejor que estar aquí. Ya casi es hora y cada vez me pongo más nervioso al minuto, gotas de agua caen de mi frente y un shock de adrenalina siento todo alrededor de mi cuerpo cuando veo que es tiempo. Rápido agarro mi mochila y me salgo de mi cuarto con cuidado cierro la puerta, volteo la llave despacito para no causar ruido. Abrazo mi mochila con todas mis fuerzas y corro ha-cia los caballos, no hay luz y la noche está más oscura que otro dia no puedo ver nada. Llegó con los caballos no se como, pero llegue volteo a ver si alguien me esta viendo o si alguien esta atras de mi. Veo que Luis ya está ahí y me a singela que estoy bien.

“Okay ya todo está listo él pollero te va esperar en esta dirección” Me dice Luis en voz baja y me da un papel, yo volteo a todos lados con temor que alguien los vea.

“Gracias Luis muchas gracias, no sé qué hubiera hecho sin ti” Le digo y lo abrazo.

“De nada Salvador. Okay ya vete porque si los quedamos mas tiempo aqui alguien los puede ver.” Con eso él me ayuda subir el cerco y miro cómo se va. Estoy arriba del cerco y no se si pueda ser lo, me entra una ola de terror y me brinco al otro lado. Ahí un guardia a mi izquierda y no se si oyo cuando caí al piso. Corro lo más rápido que pueda siento mi corazón palpitando mil veces por segundo, no volteo a ver si él guardia está atrás de mí no más corro y corro. No se a donde voy no puedo ver nada nomas corro a donde se pueda. Ya

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The Road to Nowherellevo corriendo por un largo tiempo yo digo unos 10 minutos, veo que nadie está atrás de mi y paro de correr para respirar. Veo alrededor para ver en dónde estoy  y veo que estoy afuera del rancho casi lloro de felicidad que pude ser lo. Sacó el papel que me dio Luis y veo a donde tengo que ir, paró un taxi que viene y le dio la dirección. Todo el camino voy agradeciendo a dios por ayudarme con el primer paso. En poco tiempo llegamos a unos apartamentos y me dijo en taxista que eran 50 pesos le pagos y me bajo. Hay una luz en la calle todo está oscuro se mira como si no hay nadie aquí, se va en taxi y veo una sombra a frente de mi.

“¿Salador?” “ uh si” Un señor alto camina hacia mí la luz me ayuda a ver

quien viene. Veo que tiene cicatriz en su cara y me da mas miedo. “Ven conmigo en el cuarto hablamos.” Lo persigo a llegar al

apartamento más lejos de la entrada. “ Mi nombre es Pablo y yo te voy a llevar al tren junto a todos el-

los.” Él apunta atras de mi y miro a 5 muchachos y dos familias. “Hoy vas a dormir aquí y mañana nos vamos a las 7pm.”“Okay gracias” “De ahí va ver otro señor que les va ayudar en el tren.” Me quedo

en silencio.“Okay ya a dormir porque esta es la última noche que descansas.”

Y con eso yo me fui con las familias.

“Hola” Les digo, nadien me contesta nomas se me quedan viendo. Ahí un colchón atrás de mí  pongo mi mochila y me acuesto.

Al Siguiente Dia:Me levanto con los gritos de un bebé llorando. La mamá deses-

perada a callar a nino pero es muy tarde ya todos se levantaron. Un poco después Pablo los llama que hay comida. Todos los levantamos y vamos a la sala, Pablo los da un plato con comida y comemos en si-lencio. Fui el primero en termina de comer Pablo me dijo que si me quería bañar ahí estaba él bano. Mí metí a bañar y lo único que podía pensar en era que estaba pasando en el rancho. Si ya se dieron cuenta que yo no estoy ahí o si alguien se dio cuenta ayer en la noche y le dijo al jefe. Estoy preocupado por Luis no quiero que lo lastimen unos de los chicos saben que él me habla y si le dicen al jefe lo van a lasti-mar. Me salgo de bañar y me voy a dormir otra vez.

“Salador! Salvador!” “Si si si” Me levanto con miedo y veo que es Pablo “Ya es tiempo de ir nos agarra tus cosas y vámonos”“Okay” Rápido agarro mis cosas y voy a la sala. Todos ya están

listos para irnos, todo el camino estábamos en silencio. Una señora es-taba rezando con un rosario todo el camino, lo hizo como 3 veces.

“Ya llegamos! Todos callados vayan con ese muchacho que ven ahí de ahí él se encarga. Denme a mi 500 pesos y los otros son de él.” Todos los empezamos a movernos para sacar él dinero, le damos el dinero y los bajamos del carro.

“Hola en tren va a pasar a en 30min entonces ponganse listos. En el tren va ver de todo entonces con cuidado a quien le hablan y siem-pre ojo.” Dijo el muchacho él era más joven que él otro se pero se mira más acabado.   

“Denme los 500 pesos cuando se suban al tren.” “Okay” Todo dicimos en unsion. “Esperen a aquí y cuando lo ven agarrense de donde puedan y

subanse.” Todos los movemos y los ponemos en una línea. Después de un

tiempo se oye el tren y todos los alistamos, se ve la luz. Voom rápido pasa y me brinco a una escalera, me agarro con una mano y veo que una familia necesita ayuda. Me levanto para poder agarrar me mejor y ayudarles. Todos nos subimos y le damos él dinero al muchacho. La familia que ayude estaba un lado de mí sentados.

No lo puedo cerer que yo lo hice, que logre salirme de él cartel y que todavía no estoy muerto a lo mejor es si llego al otro lado. Me da esperanza que si lo pueda ser, lo único que falta es cruzar de aquí. Ya es tarde pero aquí no se puede dormir porque si no tienes cuidado te caes y ya eso fue tu fin.

2 Dias Después:Apenas puedo abrir los ojos y mi panza me pide comida. Esto es

más difícil que lo que pensaba. No se si yo pueda más, ayer casi me caía pero me puede detener. Se que ahí un cartel en él tren y le estoy pidiendo a dios que no me reconozcan, porque si se dan cuenta ya es-toy muerto. Me imagino como esta todo en él rancho, como esta Luis.

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The Road to Nowhere“Salvador! Salvador!” Oigo que alguien dice suena como Luis

pero no veo nada de seguro es porque no he comido estoy alucinando. “Salvador!!!” Otro vez lo oigo volteo la cabeza y miró a Luis con

los muchachos.

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The Road to Nowhere

Perro Negro

Natalie MollerThe metal feet pound under me. I cling to the back like a monkey

clings to its mother. The heat beats down on the rusted metal. The roar of the beast can’t overpower the snarling and growling of my fears. Chasing me like a pack of dogs. Nipping at me with invisible pointed teeth. I close my eyes and see where I was only a few mo-ments ago. My small room, a desk with only a few papers, homework, and a pencil. The yellowish, orange walls covered with some posters of bands and movies. My bed tucked into the corner so I could look at my desk as I lay sideways smelling the orange trees outside. The courtyard in the middle of the tenement has orange trees in the middle with a fountain. The house almost surrounds the courtyard with two storeys even though only five people live here. The only exception is a vine covering the wooden fence in the back of the grove facing the hill. My sister would often be outside reading a book, She always liked to wear a blouse with any of her pants. Her black hair was al-ways pulled back. I loved when she talked with her soft voice, drown-ing out all other thoughts and sounds, it was like she could lighten any room. Then she slowly stopped being around, I didn't hear her warm voice every day. I sat in the orange trees waiting for her to come home. Eating the sweet fruit and admiring their color. Then when she finally came she talked in unknown words and languages to me. She talked about how she met someone and that he would tell her new and interesting things. Then one day, she left and never came back.

The daydream disappears as I hear someone call, “Trees, trees, duck down!”

As soon as I look I see them only a few train cars away. I lay down, with my hands grabbing anything I can hold on to, the light above me flashes like shards of green.

The branches last for what feels like forever. I get up and take a look, two cars back, there are three boys yelling and crying, while two men look over the side of the train with shock and sorrow on their faces. Someone had just got wrenched from the train. I feel like my heart is trying to jump out of my chest, and I can almost feel my eyes dilate.

I heard “La Bestia” was bad, but I never would have guessed how bad. I need to get off, I need to run, but the train doesn’t have a stop anytime soon. I get up, grab my bag and start sprinting to the back of the train.

I just have to get onto the next car, and one more and then I’m at the back. I barely hear the people call out as I run by, either out of anger for stepping on something I shouldn’t have, or out of panic for why I'm running. Last car. I’m at the end. Suddenly La Bestia roars and it shakes. I slip. The train runs by and I fall to the ground. Every-thing is hit with a wave of silence. The black dog laughs at me, and everything goes black.

I wake up from a long but nonexistent dream. My body shocks me with pain the moment I wake, my left arm and right leg have a big gashes on them and I'm covered in scrapes and bruises. Two of my teeth are missing and the blood from my head is dripping into my eye. I’m surprised I am still alive.

I get up despite my body telling me to sleep. I dig into my bag for bandages, but there is none big enough for my wounds. I wish I had brought my phone with me, but I had left it so I wouldn’t be robbed.

The closest place I could try to walk to would be the town I lived in. My town is about 25 miles from here, it would take about one to two days since it’s around 11:00am. My grandmother would talk to my sister and I about the people who ride the trains. She would tell us about how people would jump on them when she was younger.

“A lot of them were children, younger than you two,” she had said.

I had told her she was crazy, my sister later scolding me for the remark. She talked about them because she said her sister rode a train, and was never seen again.

“The beast will eat you up if you ride it,” she taunted. “And if the beast doesn't get you, then the police will.”

That day felt a little darker. The dogs got louder too. It was only two weeks ago when La Bestia reached my school. The kids that lived closest to them were the first to talk about the increase of La Bestia riders.

“There are more than normal, there was maybe two or three but now there are dozens and dozens of them.” two girls said.

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The Road to Nowhere“I like to wave to them, it’s like my own personal parade,” A boy

was bragging. It’s sometimes hard to truly feel what it’s like in the stories peo-

ple tell. The ones where a person loses an arm to a machine or a snake. Or the fear of what’s it’s like to be taken away by someone, and what it is like to see a person die right in front of you. The stories of the trains were scary but I never really understood what it was like. Now I know, I’ve seen what can happen, how a normally harmless tree can come and kill you. I never want to see it again.

But, I can’t go home. I can’t go back not now. Not to where I’m alone with them. I walk towards the station where the train was headed. I havdwalked for many hours because the sun was setting in the west. My body is screaming at me and I am getting light headed. I look at a tree and it looks like a good enough place to sleep. I sit down and lay my head on the trunk.

Am I going to die? My head and arm have stopped bleeding but my leg is still dripping blood. My eyelids involuntarily close.

I find myself in a grove of orange trees. The grass underneath is wild but short. I reach for an orange, and it’s so sweet that no sugar can compare. I start to walk through the trees. They’re all the same with vines curling around them. Bees and all kinds of insects fly about, some quiet as a mouse, and others humming like a motor.

The sun looks at me. It yawns and starts to set. I hear a howl in the distance. It moves closer, and closer, and closer, until I hear growling and shifting in the tall grass around me. I panic.

Beads of sweat run down my face. I run. The barking and growl-ing follow me, the grass reaches up to my waist and the trees start to wither and die around me. The vines are becoming black and thorny, whipping out and trying to slash me. The shadows grow longer as the sun falls farther from the sky, and the shadows turn into dogs, biting where my feet were only a moment ago. The wind seems to push me back but I’m still faster.

Suddenly the grass thickens and it’s like running in a pool of wa-ter. I trip on a stone and fall into a small clearing. The dogs circle in and walk out of the grass chanting words. Cruel and ugly words that came from the dark parts of people, they even laugh at me. I don’t want to hear their lies.

A black dog walks out of the brush, with a blue collar around its neck. It stands there watching me, its eyes pierce through me like a

knife. the eyes are full of hatred and betrayal. It bears its teeth and jumps at my leg, I try to move but vines shoot up and stop me, hold-ing me in place.

The dog sinks its teeth into my leg, it burns like a red hot iron. More dogs jump in, I try to fend them off but my arms can’t seem to harm them. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

I wake up to burning pain still in my leg. Is it real? My dream? I scream and flail my arms trying to hit the dogs.

“Hey, stop that or you will make it worse- Ouch!” Someone protests before my foot hits them. The voice stops speaking and so do I, until a hard object hit my head.

“Ouch!” That’s it!” I sit up to confront the enemy, she is a girl. Her black hair is only

to her shoulders. She has her hand on her cheek and she looks mad. In her other hand she has a bottle in it that looks like beer. She also has my spare shirt but it is all torn up.

“Will you stop moving now?” she grunts. I’m confused, but that quickly turns into uneasiness and I move back  getting ready to de-fend myself. She looks at me with annoyance and then sighs, putting down the bottle on the ground. She gets up and slowly walks towards me, I move back trying to get away. The black dog whispers in my head. Who is she? What is she trying to do? She is getting closer. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want her getting any closer.

“It’s ok, I just want to help you,” silencing my panic, she tries to soothe me with calm and soft words. I stop resisting. why did I stop?

“My name is Kemina. What’s yours?” I stay silent not wanting to say my name or anything for that mat-

ter. “So, did you fall off?” “What?” I answer dully since I was lost in thought. “Well, I am assuming you got this by falling off the train,” she

adds pointing at the large gashes on my leg and arm.I did. I was running on it trying to get off and slipped on the last

cart. “I-I did,” finally uttering some words. She picks the bottle up and

pours the beer on my leg. I wince from its burning sensation.“If you don’t move I can help and you won't have to die. If you

ask me, that’s a good deal.”

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The Road to NowhereFinally for what seems like forever, she is done and I smell like

my uncle. My poor shirt, tattered is now wrapped around my leg and arm.

“They’re not so bad now,” she remarks smugly.Why did she help me?“What do you want,” I demand.“You not falling off trains and a thank you would be nice.” She’s

irritated again. I don’t say anything  in hope that she would go away. I’m too uncomfortable to say anything regardless.

“Well? Are you going to say thank you?” Still irritated. I get up and move towards my bag. What if she stole from my bag? I quickly check, most of everything is in there. Only my spare shirt and a few snacks are gone. I start walking again hoping she would go away, yet only after walking for less than two minutes she pops up next to me. She is eating an orange from my bag.

The air gets muggy and hot, I focus on my breathing to try block-ing her out, but she does her best to keep my attention. Even after walking for so long that the sun is setting again, she is still alongside me. I am starting to get more annoyed than nervous of this girl. I growl in my head.

“Hey, this is where the train slows down,” she says as she points to a bridge that goes over a canyon. The beams were clearly rusty un-der the many layers of peeling paint. No wonder it slows down, this thing looks like it could fall apart any moment.

“I’m surprised we haven’t seen a train yet,” she adds. The more I think about it the more I see her point. She is right we haven’t seen a train in a while. We could have been walking for more than eleven hours and still have not seen one train. I sit down for maybe the twen-tieth time because my leg burns. Will I even be able to jump on the train like this? My leg is on fire and this heat is not helping.

“So, you still have not told me your name,” she presses. I still don’t answer. I don’t want to talk to her, much less to share anything with her. All she has done thus far is annoy me. I’m starting to really hate her.

Why doesn’t she leave me alone? What part of me ignoring her does she not get. That’s it, I’m done having her bug me 24/7. All my stress and bundled up anger is ready to pop. This girl thinks she has all right of way and she can do whatever she wants. As soon as I stand up to yell at her I hear a loud whistle in the background.

“The train!” we say in unison. I get up as quickly as I can and she grabs my bag.

“Hey!” I whine. She yells something back to me but the train’s brakes make it

hard to hear.  We run along the flank of the train. The wheels screech-ing as we run along. She jumps on the ladder first, she’s already up seven steps before I get close to the ladder. I have never jumped on a moving train before. I’m hesitating to jump, why shouldn’t I?

The tales of people getting caught under the train’s wheels have come to life since the last train. What if I jump, slip and get caught under the wheels? Will I be so lucky as the last time? I look ahead and see I’m running out of ground. The canyon is getting closer and the car that Kemina and my bag are on is moving away from me.  It’s now or never, I reach out my hands and push of my feet as hard as I can. That was a mistake. My leg sends a shock wave of pain and my left hand falls short of the railing. I can feel the wind pulling my feet closer to the wheels. Oh no! Is this it? Is this how I die? Now the train is over the train is almost over the canyon. The first supporting beam is closing in. Now, even if the wheels don’t get me, the bridge or the fall from the canyon will. I brace myself, trying to climb, flailing fran-tically,  but to no avail. Suddenly a hand grabs me and starts to pull me up. I get my right leg on the railing and then the other. I hug the ladder and climb as fast as I can up to the top. The metal beam barely misses me. I’m on the train. Safe and sound.

“Are you ok?” Kemina seems concerned.“Yes,” I say. “Can I have my bag back?” It sounds more demand-

ing than it should have.She glares at me but gives it back after a long stare. “Why do you keep helping me?” I say.“Why shouldn’t I?” she answers.“Well you didn’t have to help me when I was hurt, and you didn’t

have to help me on get on the train. So why are you helping me? Or even bothering to help anyone?” She sits there with my question. I start to wonder whether I should have asked or not.

“Well, I am just sick of seeing dead people. I have been on here for two months now and I have seen a lot of cruel and inhumane things. I even had a travel buddy with me before I was on my own. He was kind of your age. He was with me until some gang members got on board. I was able to get away thanks to him. He was unlucky and I

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The Road to Nowherenever saw him again. I have seen more darker things than that but that really put it out in the open for me. I was sick of these trains, of see-ing nothing but pain and suffering. For most girls, they leave this train as mothers. And I'm sick of being afraid on this train. I don’t want to fear the people around me.” She kept her eyes down not looking me in the eye like she did so many times before. Even over the sound of the  train I can hear every word clearly. I know what it’s like to be afraid for people. I've been afraid of people ever since that day. It’s not like I can be near people, but it’s just that I can’t trust people themselves.

“I know what it’s like being afraid of people. I don’t trust people, it’s something I’ve had since I was five.” Why am I telling her this? Why should I? I guess I decided to tell her because I have never really had anyone to talk about this and also maybe because she has a voice a lot like my sister.

“A long time ago I had a dog, He was some kind of mut, medium size and black. He was my best friend. Then one day, family came over and we were all outside. I don’t know how but he got star-tled and he bit me. It left a scar on my nose. He wasn't a bad dog, yet the next day he was gone. I asked where he was and all they ever told me is that he left and was never coming back. I was mad, I hated that I became uneasy near other dogs. I even hated my parents for his leaving. The only person to comfort me was my sister. I closed myself off and only talked to her. I wouldn’t talk to anyone and I wouldn’t be with my family. Then she left for someone she met at the border when she went to visit my other grandparents. So that’s why I’m on this train, I’m heading to the border to find my sister.” I finally told some-one other than my sister that story. I’m both relieved and nervous on how she will respond.

“Wow, that’s some heavy stuff. Sorry about you dog.” Her voice is sincere.

“It’s not your fault, You were never there. Besides, losing a friend is more important than losing a dog,” I say.

“Your dog was your friend, remember? Just because he was a dog doesn't meant he wasn’t important,” she reassures me.

“My name is, Carlos,” I smile as I finally tell her. “It’s nice to meet you, Carlos,” she says with a little attitude.She goes on and tells me that the her friend helped her pay for a

smuggler to get them both over the border, and that they both wanted to go to America to learn so they can life happy. We continue to talk

the whole time. I open up to her. It feels both good and strange to tell her things. Half the time I’m listening to her so I don’t have to talk, but once I do talk it’s hard because I don’t know what to say. It gets a little easier the more I talk to her. Maybe, just maybe, It’s not that bad to trust in people every once and awhile.

It almost seems like a dream. Finally after all this effort and pain, I’m finally at the border. I still managed to keep the picture of my sis-ter all this time and I had it clutched it in my hand. This is the only clue I have to find her. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jump in surprise and turn around only to see Kemina. She smiles lightly.

“Well, it’s time for me to go.”“Why?” I ask a little worried. “My smugglers are here,” she replies. “They will leave me if I

don’t find them.” “But-” I start to whine a little. “They won't wait forever, and if I miss them I will have to wait

for the next one,” she says with a bit of sarcasm. “Good luck. Will I see you again?” I ask.“Maybe,” she responds. “Maybe god will give me a break and let

me see you again.”I wave as she leaves and I’m suddenly reminded of my sister.

Kemina’s departure gave me a familiar feeling, similar to when my sister left. It was as if a part of me was torn away and left with them. Still to this day, I don’t know how to fill it. I look back on my jour-ney, my life. I lived with my sister my whole life. She was my tree that I clung to. But then, she was gone. I embarked on a journey to find her. I fell off a train and was saved by a girl I never thanked. I got in trouble again, only to be saved by Kemina. I traveled with her and helped her out. I had made a friend, which was something I hadn’t done in a long time. I see a dog laying in the shade. It’s black fur must be making it hot. The dog reminds me of mine. I reach out my hand and it jumps up wanting to be pet. It’s eyes are full of joy and energy.

Even though Kemina is gone, I feel happy. The black dog breath-ing down my back finally calms itself and now I’m free from its fangs. All the colors come to life. The greens are bright, the blues welcoming, the reds vibrant. Yet, orange seems lost in all the new col-ors I can see. I say goodbye to the dog because now it’s time to finish what I started. It’s time to find my sister.

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The Road to Nowhere

84

The Road to Nowhere

El Corredor

Matthew FayadPalms are sweaty, helmet is sweaty, racecars and a passionate

crowd surround me. The echoing engines don't phase me. If I can drift trucks in alleyways, a safe course means nothing to me. This is my exhibition, this is my stage and I am performing. The flag drops, my car jumps forward with speed and grace. This racetrack is a battle-field, anticipating  car's movements, waiting to cut off or be cut off. I see every race car in front of me and behind me through my 180 mir-ror, decaled with brand names and fast food chains. My vehicle is boxed in from the front but at the same time I hold another car behind me. This adrenaline, each driver's dedication, this is what being alive means to me, this is who I am. My burning passion is what binds me to the tearing wheels and roaring engine.

I floor my engine till the birds can hear me, awaiting the fourth place racer to make an error. I read his movements like I can feel his steering wheel, his bicep locking to hold a fixed movement away from me as he tries to keep me behind him. Jolting forward I cut in-side the shoulder, taking his spot before he had any time to take the short way through. The gap between third and fourth was replaced by me, I remind myself to breathe from the short turn of events. His road rage steered his car like it had turning signals, I held him behind me as I maneuvered trying to slip into third place. The second turn comes and I hold my ground. A bad maneuver here can send me tumbling. I keep a good speed fighting through the track as I glide through the lap. Ovals being driven over and over again. Launching off of curves like a slingshot, cheering becomes more noticeable through all the noise pollution of diesel. My leg shot the gas pedal like a bullet and my car accelerates, maneuvering and making place.

Using the same strategy I cut inside on the turn, the crowd roars and I steal second. The black and white checkered flag appears in the distance, dancing left and right in the wind. My right leg feels numb, I can’t feel the bottom of the car, but pushing harder should make sense. First place is on my left and he is not going to have it. We are side by side, he can’t push me off the track, we both know it can cause an  accident for both of us. It was over before I know it, my breath drops. The crowd screams in joy but I don’t know who won, it

was too close. I pull my car back to my pit stop. Dropping my shoul-ders in relief, I turn off the engine and rest my head back into my seat.

“Hey amigo, Qué haces!” Diego jumps at my window, shaking my car left and right. I jump an inch off my chair.

“Did I look good at all? Tell me something good Diego,” I said to him. He’s hopping in front of my window like a bunny, his grin and giggle says everything. I partially launch out of the car window hug-ging him.

“Ándale Santiago you need to see for yourself!” He pulls me through the window and attempted to manhandle me to the large mon-itors, I squirm out of his grip and jog with him instead. I can finally see the TV screens, I recognise my car, the bright blue one with the Lowe’s logo decalled under the driver's side window. The camera is zoomed in on the finish line.

“Santiago, miras,” Diego shouted.“Shut up, I’m looking.” I was stunned, I felt accomplished. Diego

started screaming in joy as my car replayed with me actually crossing the finish line first. I didn’t know how to feel, if I should feel happy or sad. It’s hard to really enjoy this moment because I know I don’t be-long, I belong as a racer, but not in this country. I look around, all the other racers are packing up their things and starting to leave. I see a racer staring at me. He slams the back of his trailer, get in drivers seat and slams the door as well. He starts to drive away, number five flashes on his trailer as he dives by. I recognise the number driving next him for first place. I can understand why he’s glaring at me.

“We have to celebrar amigo c’mon,” Diego squeezed me from both sides of my shoulder. To be honest I was really happy but I felt something wrong in my gut, I know that look in his eyes when I raced back in Mexico. That look sent me running of that country with burn-ing rubber. I walk back to the trailer, Diego was waiting in the trailer. Once I was in, we drove away.

Diego’s bar is dimly lit. The floors creak under my foot and the air is musty. Worn wood stool chairs with a reddish  pallet paint wherever wood isn’t. Diego jumps behind the bar and grabs three mugs by the sink.

“It smells horrible in here, Diego, necesita limpiar.” I bury my nose in my flannel, but the smell seeps through. “Did a skunk die in here man, c’mon.”

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The Road to Nowhere“Si amigo,” Diego chuckles and winks, scanning the building

nervously, like he has something to hide. I give him a glance, like what’s his deal. This isn’t the Diego I hang around with usually. Smalls clumps of ashes are barely littered around his side of the table.

“Why three mugs?” I blurt confused.“My bad, I forgot I called my girlfriend here to hang out. She’s

bringing the goods.” He’s looking through his shelves, he isn’t just getting the usual, it should be some good stuff, no wait, it’s still the same. I sit down and rock around on the barstool, the barstool screams with age and heavy butts. I jump one seat over, I have that feeling it was going to break today. Diego turns around takes the mugs and re-places them with warm Corona. I pop open the bottle on the side of the table, the beer didn’t foam or fizz at all. The door swings open and tears the old hole in the wall deeper than it already is.

“Sharon!” Diego shouts, he leans over the bar to get a good look. Her round figure already looks familiar. She takes one step and the hardwood decking is close to splintering. She trudges forward and heaves her pocket sized purse in Diego’s direction. I jump in the way to catch it instead, I was surprised how light it was. I start to open up the small zipper.

“Hombre, c’mon, we can wait,” he snatches the purse from my hands, leaving me startled. He scans the room again, I guess I should look around too? I only see an old couple, one young girl dressed a little scandalously, and some other dude. No wait, I remember him. The weird man staring at me from his trailer, but seeing him here  is giving me chills. He keeps staring at me. I look away, trying to forget he is there. A barstool scratches against the floors. A hand lays on my shoulder, Sharon looks at me confused.

“Hello racer number fourteen.” His voice was worn and deep, I glance at him from the corner of my left eye. His nose breathing is al-most blowing straight through me. “What you did on that track-”.

“Yeah,” He gave me a moment to back myself up, “You did good on the track I thi..”

“I didn’t like what you did on that track!” He cut off my sentence and blows through my ear, I can smell the Bud Light on his breath.

“Let’s try not to be aggressive here boys?” Diego says with a lit-tle trembling in his voice, trying to hold his bottle.

The racer breaks open the bottle into a shank, the glass flies ev-erywhere. The other two people in the bar stare in fear. Diego gives them a silent signal that they should leave for their own safety. I jump

up getting my leg gets caught in the barstool legs. He trusts his bottle and my shoulder, I dodge backwards and fall down.

“Get off, Santiago!” Diego starts to run around the bar. The racer tries to throw the bottle straight through my head, I rollover freeing myself from the chair. The bottle smashes right next to my head, glass shards spread everywhere, some go into my collar, some go under the bar table. I look up and Diego tackles him down into  a bar stool. They grunt and screech in pain, but it mostly comes from Diego even though he was on top.

“Pásame la bolsa,” Diego shouts and was shoved off the wounded racer. He rolles over and opens his hands for a pass. I at-tempt to toss the purse to him but, Diego misses the pass. The racer catches it and runs off with it. He struggles to unzip the bag, then tears it open and takes out a knife. The weapon was held at Diego like a loaded gun, ready to strike. He digs through the bag, almost like a treasure magnet at the beach. He takes out a plastic bag with mari-juana.

“I’m taking this to the authorities. Then there might be a little change around here.” The man eggs on with a twisted grin, the knife slams down on the floor, parts shatter and scatter across the floor, the blade is still intact. He hides the bag in his jacket then slams the door on his way out. I sprint to the door, my instinct tells me to pick up the knife and bust through the door but it’s Diego’s door. I crank the han-dle of the door. It’s sticky but I forced it through, I heave my shoulder through the door, it breaks open and I stumble just about gaining bal-ance. The racer has already made it out of the parking lot. I pitch the blade in his direction out of rage, it doesn’t go far, and gets lost in a sidewalk bush.

“Took my weed man what the hell,” Diego appears by my side with his hands rested in his pocket and just stood with me. I wander back to the bar, right where I was sitting, I inhale the warm beer and hunch over it like it was treasure.

○○○I sit in my car, just to have a moment with this junker beast. In-

haling the burnt car scent, the glistening leather on the garage light, checking my mirror I saw a full 180 degree view of the garage. I glance at my watch, 8:43 pm. My key slides inside with ease, I stop myself as I look at my mirror. Two white Chevy Tahoes slowly come

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The Road to Nowherearound from the corner of the street, I turn off my car. Still the cars keep moving forward, they take another turn moving forward. Even though it’s dark I can make out a blue stripe on both of their vehicles, they drive under a street light and I can finally see something. ‘U.S. CUSTOMS AND BORDER PROTECTION’ My heart drops, it feels a lot warmer inside my car. The SUV’s come closer, I see them cut into the parking lot. They know. The cars park a couple spot’s away from me, officers step out. I grip my key again, this can’t be happen-ing, why does it have to be now. Two officers walk towards me, obvi-ously they can see me, one man with a hand on his satchel and an-other man, short and plump. I flick my engine on, barely giving it time to start as I stomp the gas pedal.

“Stop the car now!” The plump one tries to run to the car door but he doesn’t even make it halfway. They shout but the car mutes their voices. The speed of the wheels can’t get a grip on the parking lot, it smokes and burns. The officers step back, it’s about to take off.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody.” I slow my car down, my wheels still can’t grip the road but I move forward, slowly accelerating but the engine already hit its limit, the sound is deafening. My car is out of control, I make a hard drift right, almost plowing a lightpost. I aim for the exit, I peek my mirror and see them hop into their car, the other SUV is already turning around for me. I can hear their sirens. I blaze out of the stadium, I want to run and hide but that’s already hard if anyone can hear my car five blocks away from me. I shake left and right, cutting behind buildings and avoiding stoplights. I can see the freeway, I hear so many horns. They have already caught up in my mirror. I see the highway exit, I cross through the line of cars cutting my way inside the exit. I power through the stoplight, before any other lane could move, I cut a right and hold a steady eighty. Police cars trail me mocking my speed, another red light blocks me, I drift into the bike lane and slam my brake giving me a good speed to make a 90 degree turn without plowing into a traffic jam for a little more trouble. I decide to stay in the bike lane, it’s hard to turn into the road with everyone coming from the stoplights. The police cars were lost at the light, I turn a couple times left, right, right and left then slow down through an alley. I speed up out of the alley into a clear street and speed to where my wheels can’t grip. Three police cars block the road. The sight of those cars makes me want to vomit, my car drifts a 270 degree turn before I hit the street running, more police cars meet me on other end, I'm boxed in. I finish the drift on a 360 and start to

floor it to get into the alley again, I’m greeted with another police car creeping closer in, no escape. I slam my brakes, crashing into a cop will be too much to deal with. I remove the key and throw it on the dash, cops start to exit their cars and approach my vehicle, sweat soaks my undershirt. I open my door and let them drag me away into their cars.

I don’t have any way to defend myself. I’m undocumented and I was only around marijuana. I’m walked into a room, sat down. The room is musty and air conditioned, I’ll take whatever they throw at me. I know I did the wrong thing but for the right purpose. I sat down at a table, behind me would be an audience but the seats all are empty. Police guard the exits of the room and the judge walks into his podium. They know I’m here illegally, I don’t want to hear the judge or anybody in this room. I decide to remain silent and just take what-ever they throw at me. The gavel slams, I don’t listen. The bags under my eyes sag and dangle with fatigue, my legs ache with restlessness. The judge asks me a question that I can’t understand but I say what could save me some trouble.

“I would like to have voluntary deportation.” The hearing was over, I was going to be deported but it shouldn’t appear on my record making a job in Mexico easier to find with my record looking cleaner than it is. I’m taken from my chair and escorted out of the room.

○○○

ICE officers guide me onto a plane and sit me down next to some other people on the plane. The man on my right was short and chubby, reeking of body odor and covered in acne. The man on the far right was tall and loaded with facial hair, and had a really dry saggy face, I rest my head in my seat and rest my eyes. I’ll wake up in Mex-ico sooner or later.

90

The Road to Nowhere

El Salvador

Vuelo a la Libertad – Samantha Harmer…………………..…...95La Razón en Que Me Fui – Guadalupe Mendez………………105La Tierra De Letras, Romero – Zion Davis.…..….…....……..115La Tierra De Letras, Kenny (Excerpt) – Nick Green…………125

This next collection of short stories will elaborate on the impor-tance of the bond between family members and the horrific journey immigrants face going to the United States in hope for a better life. It gives insight and historical facts that El Salvadorians face in this day and age to help the reader better understand their lives. Gangs, vio-lence and drugs fill their world and surround these people with con-stant fear. Each story is written from the perspective of a well devel-oped protagonist who faces real conflict.

92

The Road to Nowhere

Vuelo a la Libertad

Samantha HarmerI sat atop of the hill and felt the cool breeze blowing through my

hair, filling my lungs with air. I felt liberated, but I knew it wouldn’t be for long. Soon the the sun would lower behind the horizon, and the dangerous streets with funny smells would echo with gunshots. I gen-tly ran my fingers over the picture as I slid it back into my journal and tucked it into my bag. The walk back home was long, but when I had a lot on my mind it felt like just seconds before I approached the side-walk in front of the entrance to our gate. I stopped and took it all in one last time. The broken shingles that laid on the roof gave the house no protection from the rain, and the overgrown yard was filled with weeds. I looked at the chipped paint that covered the wood making up what they called a ‘home’, but just felt like a beaten down dump to me. I could hear the piercing laughter of my father, and the swines he called his ‘amigos’; but were as cruel as the devil himself. I opened the door and walked fast, with my head down ignoring the voices in the background that always commented on the shape of my body. I walked into the kitchen where Antonio sat with his head on the table sleeping. The stove was still on, and the boiling water bubbling over the sides of the pot was making a mess. My mother was passed out in the backroom with the television on. I didn't know how long Antonio had been sitting there, but if I didn't get this mess cleaned up soon my father would come uncorked, and nobody wanted that. I wiped Anto-nio up with the last clean rag under the sink and then the floor that the water had covered. I turned off the stove and took Antonio by the hand.

“Come, mí amour.”We walked into the back room avoiding my parents. My house

wasn't real big. It had two small bedrooms and the kitchen and living room were divided by a wall that covered only half of each room. We had one bathroom with functioning plumbing on the good days. It wasn't ideal, but I was more fortunate than many people living in El Salvador and I knew it. Antonio and I had both fallen asleep, but were awoken by  the echoes of a woman's voice screaming.

“Please, we will do anything, just don’t hurt him,” she said.

A bang and another one followed by two more. Silence filled the house. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to move and felt like I couldn’t breath. Having Antonio in my arms was the only way my mind could escape. It was at that point that I knew I  had to get out for both Antonio and I. I spent seventeen years in this horrible place and I knew now that I had to get out if I wanted a future for myself, but most importantly a future for my hermano. My father was a monster. He spared no man and had no mercy. Money was his drive and power was what he craved. I layed there motionless, with my thoughts daunting me. Staring at the ceiling with the sound of Antonio’s breathing being my only motivation, my only hope. I will get out for him, I will get out for myself.

I woke up the next morning and the sun was shining through my beaten down shades. The warmth pressed against my face, but I felt cold. The smell of fresh tortillas and beans filled the air around me. My stomach gargled, and I couldn’t remember the last meal I had eaten. Stress seemed to have that effect on me. Walking into the kitchen my mother kissed me on the cheek and pulled me close.

“Buenos diaz, Esmeralda,” she said in a much softer voice than usual. A voice that made me remember the way things used to be. Back when my family was happy. When money and the gangs didn’t control every part of our lives. My Tia Ana was in the living room talking with my papi and two other well-built Hispanic men. They carried guns tucked into their sides with their shirts behind them. I kept my head down and waited patiently for them to finish. It wasn’t long before my Tia came in. She had dark eyes, and thick, dark brown hair to her waist. She was petite, but strong.

“Deja ir míha.” Days like these were the best days. The ones I got to spend with

Ana and Antonio filled my life with meaning. We walked to the food marked where we bought rice, tortillas, beans and la neverías, we then walked to the the park. Antonio knew this walk well, we went here of-ten and when he saw the swings his eyes lit up. Watching his ear to ear smile made my heart melt to pieces.

He ran to the swing, shouting, “¡Arriba, arriba!”I picked him up and set him gently on the swing. His feet barely

hung off, but still he insisted on using the columpio de niño grande swing though he was only four he knew how to be persistent, he knew exactly how to get what he wanted and it made me love him that

94

The Road to Nowheremuch more. As the sun began to set we began to walk back home pushing Antonio in the stroller. The streets were dark, dirty and filled with people. My heart ached. Beaten down homes, children living on the streets and people eating food out of the garbages made my stom-ach turn. A woman approached us. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, she reeked of alcohol. She asked for food, but we had none to spare so I reached in my pocket and took out what was left of the change from the store. It wasn't much, about a total of 30 cents, but still it was something. Ana looked at me just as she always had. Grabbing my hand she looks me in they eyes.

“Sé que esto es todo duro para usted.” “Sí,” I responded, looking at the ground. But I know there is no

other way.My family didn't always used to be like this. I could recall days

filled with laughter and joy, but that all ended when my papí lost his job and joined MS-13. I knew he had always had the connections rooted into his family, but for the most part he stayed clear. The death of his father and loss of his job drove him into bitterness that he couldn't escape. I was only eight, but I could remember long nights when my mother stayed up waiting for him to get back from the bar. There was no food in the house, and they struggled to make ends meet until my papí came into contact with Jose. They were long time friends that grew up on the same block, but when Jose steered in the wrong direction my papí’s family moved away. When Jose showed up he showed my father another way. A way that he knew very well. Drugs, money, and guns would now power our lives. My mother and I being caught in the crossfire had no choice, but to be sucked in. At first I could tell that my mother was unhappy, guilty and disapproved of our new life. But as time passed, bills got paid and her values changed. I felt like I hardly knew her, but Ana always remained the same. Six years later my mother gave birth to Antonio and that was her greatest gift to me. Now standing here with the one person that knew me even better then I knew myself I felt lost and hopeless.

“¿Quiero?” I asked with a shakiness in my voice and a tear run-ning down my cheek.

“Lo sé.” She wrapped me tightly in her arms. “Creo que hay una manera,” she whispered in my ear walking

back home. My head was spinning. I couldn't feel the earth spinning under my feet, but still I knew it was. I looked in the mirror that night. My hair was long and always knotted. My cheekbones were too

prominent and my nose too small. I picked out my flaws one by one, but what I hated more than anything about myself were my eyes. Most people called them hermosa.

They were green and my dark skin made them stand out, but they were the eyes of my father and I hated the thought of having anything of his in me. I sat there staring at myself, pondering.

“What am I worth?” I asked myself over and over. I wanted to go back in time and try to change who I've become, but I knew that was impossible all I had left is who I am, and who I wanted to become. Leaving for the United States would give me a new start. Help me, show forth what is important to me and take actions on my goals. When I get there I will go to school. I will further my education giv-ing me the opportunity to show Antonio that there is so much more to life than drugs and gangs.

I used to love school. I loved they way I felt when I read a new book or discovered a new word. I loved how everything made sense in an equation and the sense of satisfaction that came over me when I got a problem right. The reality of feeling like I had control over something even something simple helped me realize that I wasn’t as hopeless as I felt at times. That if I looked at life as little pieces of a puzzle I could solve it.I did have control over myself, but I hadn't been to school since Antonio was born and as each day passed that hope that school once gave me drifted into my past. I was in eighth grade when I dropped out to help around the house. Cooking cleaning and watching over Antonio while my parents were ‘doing what they had to do to take care of us’. This is my life now, but I have to admit I wouldn't take back dropping out of school for a second. I loved Anto-nio and making sure he was safe made me happy. As much as I loved school and as much as I loved learning I knew that it wasn't going to get me anywhere. Nobody had a future here outside of MS-13 but I am the painter of my own canvas, the writer to my chapter and the creator of my destiny.

I didn't know any other way to deal with all of these emotions spinning in my mind, my only way to find peace was to write and that is exactly what I did.  I wrote about how the thought of going to America made my stomach crawl, because I knew I may have to leave Antonio. I tried and tried to think of anyway at all out of it, but this seemed to be the only option. If I go to America I will be able to find work. I will find a place to live for cheap and save up to come back

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The Road to Nowherefor him. As I finished writing down my thoughts in my journal I flipped back to pages I hadn't seen in forever. Gazing over them, I closed my eyes tight and took a deep breath. I had changed so much over these last couple of years and I wasn't sure if it was for the best. My heart wanted to give back to people in need. To put positive vibes back into the earth for all of the negative ones that surrounded my life, but even I have been consumed with anger. I carried hatred around with me everyday. Hatred for what my life has become and hatred for the people who turned me into this, but one day I would be able to let it all go. One day I would be able to trust without hesita-tion, laugh without hidden tears and love without fear.

The next day Ana and I met up at the market on the corner. We could have just stayed home and talked, but she thought it would be too dangerous. If my parents, or worse, the gang, ever found out that she was helping me get out who knows what they would do and nei-ther of us wanted to find out. She came with good news. For the past six months my parents had been lead contributors for transferring guns into the states. My Tia was a big part in helping.

“Que recibiendo un montón de dinero pronto,” she said. My heart began to beat faster.

“Puede resultar peligroso, pero al menos estará seguro.” “Saber es nuestra única oportunidad de Esmeralda,” she told me

in a soft voice. I can hear the desperation in her voice. She wanted out just as much as me.

“¿Cuándo usted será capaz de conseguir el dinero?” “Pronto,” she responded.“Mal hacerle saber pronto míha.”When I got home both my parents were sitting on the living room

couch, Antonio was playing on the floor with his blocks. As I began walking to the back room my father looked at me,

“Esmeralda, espera.” “Si papi?” I responded. “Donde has esado?”“Mi fui caminar.”He squinted his eyes as if he could see the lies floating over my

head. I took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes. “Bien,” he said dismissively and I continued to walk to my room.I hadn’t heard from Ana in a couple days, this wasn’t normal for

her. She was always around in some way or another. Running errands for my father, and helping out with the endless tasks, but she always

made time to stop and check in, even if it was to just to say hello. My mother had make me run some supplies over to some of the other members of the gang. The very thought of interacting with them made my stomach crawl and it made it worse that my mother treated me as if I had no idea what was in the containers. She told me that I needed to communicate with them and get to know them I just rolled my eyes. Antonio and Ana were my family. The members were not and for all I cared neither were my parents if this was the life they wanted for me.

It was a long forty-five minute drive to drop off the drugs. Most of the car ride was silent, some small talk and awkwardness, nothing new. I haven't felt like I was close to my mom in years and sometimes I missed her. Sometimes I felt lonely, but I pushed those feelings down as far as I possibly could. Feelings like those show weakness and I refuse to be weak. We pulled up on a road with many cars and to an underground parking lot. We had to take the elevator to the sec-ond floor. The light flickered and the smell of old mucky water filled the air. It made the small place feel even smaller. On the second floor we met a tall man. He was built but carried nothing on him. He guided us to the back room where we gave the packages to the man sitting at the head of the table and in exchange they handed my mother a thick roll of money. We then turned around and headed back down stairs. The women in El Salvador are just used as messengers or errands runners. They are to speak little and obey fully while the men control them like puppets. Driving back my mother talked to me about the importance of all that is done. She tells me how if we want to survive this is the only way. El Salvador is over populated and so far into poverty there is little anyone can do outside of gang activity. Most of what she was saying took an unsettling place in the bottom of my stomach. I knew she was right, but it seemed like such an easy way out. Soon the car filled with silence. I stared out of the window, but as we became closer to the house I had the dyer desire to ask her to come with us.

I turned to her and with complete sincerity, “Mamá por favor,ven con nosotros,”

“Usted puede salir y podemos ser felices otra vez.” Looking at me she says, “obedecer a su padre.” She then looked away and said nothing more.

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The Road to NowhereI didn't know what she meant but her grave tone frightened me.

The sun had gone down and everything was dark we pulled into the driveway and I went straight to my room. Inside I wrote. I wrote about what my mother had said and how her words spun around in my mind. I didn’t understand how she could just turn away when I needed her, when we needed her. I guess I should have been used to it at this point. I wrote about how I heard the birds chirping outside of my win-dow. The beauty of their wings and how they spread so widely carry-ing them through the air. I wish more than anything that I could have wings. Wings to free myself from this hell, but not just for that. I wish traveling to the United States was that easy. Spreading your wings and carrying myself to freedom. Maybe then my mother would want to come with me. Maybe if she felt that it would work, but it wasn't. Regardless of my mothers choice I couldn’t let her stop me from do-ing what I needed to do. Being in charge of my own destination was what I really wanted. Just to have control over myself. I laid my head down on the pillow and drifted off, but soon after awoken by a frantic voice.

“Esmeralda,” Ana tugged on my shoulder. She kept pushing and pushing until I was awake.

“Tengo el dinero,” she said.“Todo de esto.” All of a sudden I was wide awake and filled with

joy. “Nos iremos el mañana por la noche estar listo.” “Bien.”She hurried out of the bedroom before anyone heard. I could go

back to sleep. I began packing my bag right away. I couldn’t bring much, but one outfit and my journal was all I needed. I gathered what money I did have. It wasn't much, just twenth dollars, but it may help sooner or later. I packed an outfit for Antonio and his stuffed bear that my father bought him the day he was born. He always slept with that raggedy old thing. When I saw the peak of the sun shining through the broken shades of my window, I tucked everything in the little closet in the corner of my room and slid into bed. It wasn't very long until I heard footsteps and the voices of my parents. Even though the sun came up this morning, it didn't stay for long. Soon they sky had filled with thick dark clouds, that poured little drops of rain. I guess I never really minded the rain. The smell was like lavender to my nose and the dark sky made me feel like I was home for the first time in years. I don't know why the rain made me feel like this, but then again I

hardly ever knew why I felt the way or even if it was a normal way of feeling.

The next day I had chores, peeling coffee beans from the field with my mother. It was endless. Every time you felt a glimpse of ac-complishment more appeared sending you back to where you started. I hated feeling unaccomplished. What was the point of life if you al-ways stayed where you are? How could I reach my full potential? That was what I got out of the endless how's of peeling coffee beans. I knew that I had every capability of doing great things, but how do I in fact do them? This was the question I had in deepest part of my mind today. Hopefully I crossed my fingers and wished on stars that tonight is the first step to helping me figure out what the answer is.

That night was slower than ever. But eventually my parents set-tled down on the couch and turned on the T.V. It had been raining and the house was dark. 7:30pm I watched the clock, then 8:47pm, 9:50pm, and then 12:25pm. It felt as if time would drag on forever and they would never go to bed, but when 2:00 am struck they were both passed out. My mother was rolled in a ball on the couch and my father snored incessantly in a chair. It was to late to have second thoughts now, Ana would be here anytime and I had to be ready, so I gently kissed the forehead of my mother and quickly got mine and Antonio’s bag. Sliding him off of the bed and into my arms I heard the lightest tap at the window, it was Ana. Ana grabbed the bags from the window and I quietly opened the door. Turning the knob and hav-ing Antonio in my arms it all became so real. My heart pounded and my stomach crawled if my father woke up it would be the end for all of us. As soon as I got out both Ana and I ran one foot in front of the other. Antonio wasn't heavy, but running with him made my arms wary. We didn't stop until we couldn’t see the house behind us. Until we knew without a doubt that it was just a part of our past. Breathing heavily my chest throbbed,but finally Ana looked over to me handing me a paper. She explained to me the route we would be taking. We walked and walked along the streets of El Salvador staying as hidden as possible. This was dangerous, but if we stayed on the backroad we wouldn't run into much trouble. As we approached the the trains I could hear the roaring of the engine and the smell of the smoke filled the air. People were gathering all around in hopes of getting on. I felt an overwhelming feeling of excitement and accomplishment. Was this

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The Road to Nowherethe beginning of my new life? With the train only a block away my heart felt hopeful.

As I turned my head my heart stopped. Was it him? Fear over-came me as I saw my father out of the side of my eye. He and one of his friends were running towards us. I tugged on Ana's shoulder and we began to run. Faster and faster until our legs couldn't possibly move anymore, but we finally reached the train. I helped Antonio climb the ladder first. He gripped the bar with his hand as I climbed up after him. Ana threw up our bags. My father was only a few feet away now and there was no way Ana was going to make it up. She grabbed the ladder as my father's friend grabbed her ripping her to the floor.

“Dejarla ir,” I screamed.My father demanded that I get down but I refused. Ripping Ana

down they held a gun to her head. “Bajar o mal matarla.”Ana told me not to. She had fear in her eyes but I could hear the

hope in her voice when she said, “Vaya a bebé que usted sabe qué hacer. Hemos trabajado duro para ello.”

The train began to move and my mind filled with confusion. I heard a bang. The world around me stopped. Everything began to spin and I became light headed. Ana’s body laid there motionless. The train was moving full pace now, but I did not realize. My body was being supported by a bar keeping me from falling. Ana was gone now and all I had left was Antonio. I didn't know if losing her was worth getting out, but I did know that her death wouldn’t be for nothing. As the train road into the sunrise my heart felt warmth. Memories of my aunt filled my mind, not ones of sorrow, but of happiness. I knew from this point forward things were going to be just as hard, but not without meaning.

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The Road to Nowhere

La Razón en Que Me Fui

Guadalupe Mendez“NO TE VAS A IR A NINGÚN LADO, ¿i ME OÍSTE!?” … son

los gritos que me despiertan en la media noche. Mi vida en El Sal-vador ha comenzado a ser demasiado abrumador para mí. Cada hora una persona está perdiendo su vida porque pisaron territorio de las pandillas, alguien le debe dinero, o simplemente porque alguien tenía un mal día. He oído historias de muchos dejando su casa. Las per-sonas se subieron a bordo de los trenes de carga, uno conocido como "La Bestia", el que te lleva al Otro Lado. Los trenes de carga, que se extienden a lo largo de varias líneas, llevan productos para la ex-portación al norte. Como no hay vagones de pasajeros, las personas deben viajar en la parte superior de los trenes en movimiento. Arries-gándose por su vida, ponerse en una situación de vida o muerte. So-breviven un día a la vez, pero siempre hay una posibilidad de muerte si se caen o son empujadas. Más allá de los peligros de los propios trenes, la gente están expuestas a la crueldad de la vida, la violencia a manos de las bandas y grupos del crimen organizado que controlan las rutas norte. Estoy a punto de subirme al tren con otras personas que también están tratando de escaparse de las drogas, la violencia y las bandas detrás. Puedo oír la ansiedad en sus voces temblorosas susurrando en el cielo nocturno. Veo sus carreras de sombras y divisó un vistazo de sus caras cuando los destellos de luz en sus ojos... y en ese momento pueden ver esperanza de un mejor futuro por delante.

“Dios, por favor protégeme de lo mal alrededor de mí, dame la fuerza para salir de este infierno…,” hago una pausa cuando una chica se topa a mí, golpeando mi linterna de las manos.

“Oh perdón ¿Sabes si este es el tren que nos va llevar, a La Bestia ?” me pregunta mordiéndose las uñas.

“Si…,” espero que me diga su nombre.“Claudia,” ella respondio“Si Claudia. Ahorita nos vamos a ir,” caminamos a la escalera

más cerca para llegar a la parte superior del tren.Alzo mi vestido para que no me resbale mientras subo, Claudia

coloca su mano en mi espalda baja y me empuje hacia arriba. Sostiene la linterna con los dientes, mientras me agarro de la agarradera de metal oxidado y subo más y más alto. Siento mi camino a la cima,

deslizando mis pies al lado de la escalera y arrastrando un pie para subir. Justo cuando estoy a punto de alcanzar la agarradera, una mano áspera me agarra mi muñeca y me jala del brazo hacia arriba.

“Andale dame tu mano!” insta con el hedor de tequila viene de su aliento.

El hombre me tira hacia arriba y luego ayuda a Claudia, nos ras-treamos y nos ponemos cómodas. Toda la gente están costados en su estómago, con una bolsa de plástico debajo de sus cabezas. Algunas personas trajeron bolsas con ropa y otros solo trajeron que tienen puestos. Lo único que traje fue las memorias de mi madre y los mo-mentos que mi padre no estaba borracho. Las mujeres están haciendo espacio para todos diciéndoles que se mueva y que hagan espacio. Los hombres son de transporte de cada uno para arriba. Cuando, de repente, mi cuerpo se balancea, la gente pierde su equilibrio, todo el mundo está en silencio. Este tren no es para nosotros ... este tren no es para nosotros, que acabamos de subir y tomar un viaje gratis a cualquier lugar tenemos la intención de ir. La Bestia no se detuvo para nosotros y no está dejando solo cuando estamos listos para despegar. La Bestia se acaba de enviar productos a través de Centroamérica, este tren no es para nosotros. Todos estamos despertados por el cuerno golpe, me estremezco cuando escucho los clics y las clacks de las vías del tren. Niños llorando ante el sonido de la gente gritando a las que estén corriendo para subirse a.

“Ya no se suban! Se van a golpear! La Bestia les va arrancar una pierna!”

Rasgones de miedo que agota caras de madres. Los ojos de los hombres son negros como el carbón. Claudia libera su aliento, ella muerde sus uñas, sus cejas no son tejidas juntos más y miradas de-lante al nuevo viaje. Las linternas están siendo señaladas en el uno el otro que se nos asegura son todos seguros.

“AYE! Mi hija amarrate el pelo, con el viento me está pegando en la cara!” El tipo con una cicatriz en su mejilla grita en mí.

“Perdón,” le dego.Junto todo mi pelo a un lado y lo giro en mi mano como una

cuerda. No traje nada conmigo sólo el vestido mi mamá hecho para mí. Mis ojos se hacen pesados, solté bostezar y la extensión mis ar-mas hasta las estrellas en el cielo. Justo antes de que cierro mis ojos, noto a un grupo de tres muchachos dos cargas delante de mí con una luz... Adivino que ellos no tienen una linterna. El tipo que me ayudó

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The Road to Nowhereronca ya, el hombre con la cicatriz en su cara se ríe pero no sé por qué. ¿Por qué es el hombre con las risas de aliento de tequila, la única cosa graciosa es su canto? Claudia es enroscada ya en una pelota pro-fundamente dormida.

“Por favor Mami, protejenos en este viaje. Dame la fuerza para sobrevivir y cuidame esta noche. Amen.”

Este es mi viaje, este es mi una posibilidad para una mejor vida. Si muero, morí intentando, si lo hago … entonces ya no tengo que preocuparme del andar fuera por la noche y yo completaría a mi mamá y mi sueño en una realidad. Sólo espero que mi viaje no se ter-mine antes de que esto comience en esta alta carga de cuarenta y ocho pies.

Despacio pelo mis ojos abiertos, bizqueando en el sol. El sol quema mi cara, pelando mi piel. Mis mejillas son tan rojas como un tomate, mi boca parece al papel de lija, y mi estómago grita. Esto ha sido cuatro días desde dejamos El Salvador, y el pensado que trae al alimento nunca cruzó por mi mente. El viento caliente del tren Tres aves vuela encima de nosotros, encabezando el norte a la tierra del li-bre. Me siento y veo a Claudia ya con hojas en su pelo.

“Por fin te levantaste!” Claudia dice cuando ella picotea las hojas de su pelo.

“No dormir bien, cada vez que el tren se golpeaba me desperté creyendo que me iba caller,” digo con asusto. En las noches tengo pe-sadillas y cada vez empiezo con un sueño de mi mami pero me de-spierto con el asusto de mi padre.

“Cuantos años tienes Maria?” “14 y Tu?”“14! Pense que tenias 17 años, yo tengo 17 años.”“Para donde vas, Claudia?” le preguntoClaudia miró abajo y juegos de sus manos, “Estoy tratando ayr a

los Estados Unidos, porque…,”ella se paró y dijo, “Pues por la misma razón que tu, ya sabes cómo eran las cosas en  El Salvador.”

Sí, recuerdo realmente como las cosas eran en casa pero no pienso que Claudia y se íbamos por los mismos motivos.

“Me puedes peinar como tu?”“Ven pues.”Me cómodo enfrente de ella, levantó la cabeza ella dirige sus

puntas de dedo sucias por mi pelo y comienza a trenzar mi pelo en uno. Cerré mis ojos y recordé los tiempos mi mamá haría mi pelo

cada noche antes de que yo me iría a la cama. Ella me contaría histo-rias de hora de acostarse sobre este lugar donde cada uno es seguro y las niñas tenían un nuevo vestido cada mañana.

“Maria yas tiempo de dormir”“Okay mami” “Ya cepillaste tu pelo?”“Mmmm”“Aye Maria, ven para acá,” sentada en el borde de mi cama, pal-

madita para sentarme junto a ella. Me acomode cruzando mis piernas Luego me cantó una canción,“Un elefante, se columpiaba, sobre de la tela de un arina. Como

veia que resistia fue a llamar a otro elefante.Dos elefantes, se columpiaban sobre de la tela de una araña,

como veian que resistia fueron a llamar otro elefante.Tres elefantes, se columpiaban sobre de la tela de una araña,

como veian que resistia fueron a llamar otro elefante.”Me cepillaba hasta que había diez elefantes columpiándose sobre

de la tela de una araña. Llego me peinaba en una trenza ‘para que no se te pegan los piojos’ siempre me decía cuando terminaba. Luego yo la peinada, y me paraba en la cama para estar nivel a ella, para com-parar nuestras trenzas para ver qual era mas larga. Mi trenza siempre estaba más larga, me decía,

“El pelo largo significa juventud porque ya cuando estes viejita ya no te crece el pelo tanto y empieza cambiar de color, por eso siem-pre te lo debes de cuidar.”

“Cuanda se va parar el tren? Tengo tanta sed y me mareo de tanto movimiento.” Claudia interrumpe mi concentración que me devuelve a la realidad.

“No creo que pronto. No hasta que llegamos a Guatemala, ahí nos vamos a bajar y dormir. Luego, antes que el tren se cruza la fron-tera de Guatemala para México nos vamos que esconder nos. Es más fácil para meternos a Guatemala pero para salir es difícil porque la migra está ahí viendo el tren cruzar. Y cuando nos ven nos van atrapar y mandarnos para atrás.” Le informo.

“Para atrás?! No puedo regresarme” llora Claudia.“Por que te fuistes?” le preguntó con nervios.“...Maira hay cosas que tu todavía no entiendes. Cosas que tu no

debes de saber ahorita. Tuve un novio,”

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The Road to Nowhere“O, y lo besabas, y se agarraban de la mano, verdad? Yo sí sé de

eso”“Mm.. a veces, cuando no estaba enojado. Pero cuando estaba

enojado, no era la persona que conocía. Él tenía amigos que estaban en las pandillas, y no eran buenos amigos. Maltrataban la gente que no les pagaba el dinero que deben. Siempre estaba drogado, con los ojos rojos y luego se dormía hasta que las drogas dejado su sistema. A veces los amigos de mi novio, Carlos,venían a la casa. Había seis hombres que tomaban hasta la medianoche..o hasta que se durmieran. Cuando Carlos se pasaba a cabo en el sofá…uno de sus amigos en-traba a mi cuarto y se puso encima, despertandome. Gritaba que se saliera pero los muchachos estaban tan borrachos que no se podían levantar para ayudarme. No pude decirle a Carlos lo que pasaba en mi recamara porque me amenazaron que iban a matarlo y luego a mi. Hacían tanto cochinero que en las mañanas yo recogía el vidrio que-brado. Le lloraba a Carlos que paraba de tomar y que dejará a sus amigos, pero nunca pudo.” Claudia me explico su historia, con lágri-mas en sus ojitos. Pero no entendía qué es lo que pasaba en la recá-mara de Claudia, porque la iban a matar? Claudia está escapándose de su novio Carlos quien fue aspirado en una de las más grandes pandil-las en El Salvador, la MS-13. Ellos son los que robaron la persona más importante en mi vida. Claudia ya no quiere hablar, y se questa.

Cuando me siento aquí comienzo a pensar en Claudia y su novio Carlos. Debe haber sido difícil para ella abandonar a alguien ella real-mente se preocupó por. Justo como ello era difícil para mí .. para abandonar a mi papá. Cuando Claudia mencionó sobre su desmayo de novio en el canapé y recoger el cristal roto por la mañana, levanté mi vestido y toqué la cicatriz en mi tobillo. He estado tan preocupado de la disminución del tren de carga que dejé de pensar en mi padre. El dolor en mi pecho en el pensado él era demasiado para manejarse porque él no siempre pareció a este. Cuando yo era más joven yo no me trastorne cuando él gritó en mí si yo fuera por delante de la yarda, porque yo sabía que debía protegerme de los tipos malos. Nunca tuve que preocuparme de su carácter provocado bebiendo en la mesa. Él nunca puso una mano en mí de la cólera, no era hasta el día pegaron un tiro a mi mamá en el lugar incorrecto y el tiempo incorrecto. Yo estaba en la escuela cuando pasó. Recuerdo que yo comía mi al-muerzo mi mamá embalada para mí por un refrán de nota, te amo:) le esperaré fuera de las cercas, mi luz y alegría <3’ una vez que terminé mi almuerzo, fui y di una patada a la pelota alrededor con mi clase.

Cuando un tiro fue encendido, los soldados nos apresuraron dentro del edificio escolar y cerraron con llave las puertas. Las posibilidades de un miembro de cuadrilla que viola en nuestra escuela no eran del-gadas a ninguno. Mi escuela era el safest un en el país, esto tenía cer-cas con alambres de púas en la cumbre entonces nadie puede subir. Los soldados fueron armados y fueron acompañados por perros de reloj muy entrenados quién descubrió husmeando la escuela para cualquier medicina o polvo de arma. Sin embargo, todavía éramos apresurados en el edificio siempre que un cañonazo fuera encendido. Más tarde ese día, esperé a mi mamá detrás de la cerca hasta que yo la viera. Ella era siempre temprana recogerme, pero ese día cuando ella no se reveló, la escuela se cerraba así tuve que andar a casa. Yo saltaba mi camino a casa cuando de repente me paré cuando noté que una mujer se había caído. Ella fue confrontada, y su zapato se había escabullido. Las cosas en su bolso volaron a través de la calle pero su monedero debía ser en ninguna parte encontrado. Su vestido rosado atractivo era fangoso, y su trenza fue deshecha. Le corro para ayu-darle, y cuando cambié su cuerpo para volverme ... mi mano fue cu-bierta en la sangre. Sus ojos eran abiertos de par en par, ella tenía una contusión en sus pómulos y una bala directamente al corazón. Puse mi mano sobre mi boca para sofocar un grito, yo podría oír mi corazón que martilla en mi pecho que esto repitió en mi cabeza, entonces real-icé que yo sostenía mi aliento, alivié el aire de mis pulmones despa-cio, entonces el olor me golpeó, traté de impedir la bilis elevarse en mi garganta cuando el olor podrido invadió mis fosas nasales. Grité para la ayuda pero nadie quiso estar implicado. Puse allí la mendici-dad para mi mamá para despertarme, sollozos. Oigo el crujido de pa-sos que andan a lo largo del camino rocoso. Busco y veo a mi papá, él mira mí y paradas, él mira a mi mamá y se cae a sus rodillas mudas. Me levanto y corro hacia mi papá, tiro su brazo y lo arrastro para ayu-dar a mi mamá. Él sólo está de pie allí con sus ojos enfocados en mi mamá. El pilla paseos por y nota nosotros, tirones y pide la reserva. Los paseos nuestro camino y nos piden irse a casa. Esto no era la primera vez ese día que ellos tuvieron que tener cuidado de un cuerpo. La población en El Salvador es por poco más de seis millones, con el precio de homicidio más alto en el mundo, las aproximadamente 24-30 personas mueren cada día. Nunca tienen alguna vez pensé que mi mamá sería una de aquellas 30 personas. El día perdí a mi mamá es el día perdí una parte de mi padre también. Él comenzó a beber, y gritar.

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The Road to NowhereÉl no me miró el mismo camino más, él pareció el pasado derecho mí. Él durmió en el canapé y prohibirme de entrar en su cuarto. Eché de menos la escuela algunos días porque él fue demasiado bebido para tomarme, esto comenzó la escuela ausente una vez por semana a cada dos días. Entonces pronto los días se convirtieron en semanas y sem-anas convertidas en meses. Terminé no yendo a la escuela en absoluto porque yo era así detrás yo no tenía los créditos para subir un grado. A la edad de nueve años yo me elevaba yo mismo y tenía cuidado de mi padre. Yo iría al mercado para recoger el alimento, yo limpiaría la casa, y pondría el alimento sobre la mesa. A lo largo de los años las porciones de alimento en el plato se acortarían. Cuando crecí de la ropa yo tenía, mis amigos me darían uno de sus vestidos para gas-tarse. Somedays cuando mi padre fue pasado en el canapé yo me movería sigilosamente en su cuarto, y agarraría un vestido del armario de mi mamá. Yo trenzaría mi pelo cada noche antes de que yo fuera para dormir, cantando la canción que ella me cantó. Una vez que los rasgones comenzaron a caerse, comencé a tararear la canción. Direc-tamente antes de que yo me gritara para dormir yo diría mis rezos y me rizaría en una pelota.

“Aye ya está parando el tren!”“Bamonos!”“Miran están dando comida!”La gente esta gritando. Vuelvo a la Tierra y Después de viajar

para millas, La Bestia viene a una parada y cada uno brinca lejos. ¡Trato de despertar a Claudia,

“Clau! ¡Clau! Despiertate, ya se paró tren el-. Los Levantate afir-man que encontramos participante de párrafo,” Claudia masculla y gime, pero se alza cuando digo el alimento.

Me levanto y estiro mis piernas y mi espalda, extiendo la mano mis manos para ayudar al soporte de Claudia a sus pies y bajarme. Me dirijo hacia una mujer y sus niños, ellos hacen establecer una mesa con un pote de echar agua caliente y alguna taza de pastas.

“¿ A cuanto los vendes?” Claudia pregunta.“No, mi hija, ningún estoy vendiendo. Diez párrafo que comen.

Toda la gente que vive poraqui ayudamos los que se tren suben Al-,” la sonora números juegan a los dados.

“Gracias siora.” Las mujeres tan amablemente nos dan el ali-mento. Sus niños reparten botellas de echar agua, los otros reparten bandanas. Sus casas tienen agujeros en las azoteas, ventanas rotas, y

la pintura que pela su casa. Ellos no tienen mucho, aún ellos nos dan más que bastante para sobrevivir.

“Maria, sabes a qué horase va el tren?” Claudia pregunta.“Gastamos la noche aquí bebé. La salida de primera cosa por la

mañana. La Hembra necesita algún combustible,” un tipo con tatuajes por todas partes de su cuello y hombros le responde. Claudia gira y tres tipos la miraban.

Tratamos de encontrar un punto agradable durmiendo para la noche. Nos sentamos contra un árbol dejan perplejo y comen nuestra sopa. Abajo miro mi vestido y veo como con fuerza debe moverse alrededor en ello, pero este era todo que yo tenía. Los palos me empu-jan bajo mis piernas y las rocas hacen daño a mi espalda. Me levanto y ordeno la tierra antes de las caídas de la noche. Recojo las ramas y los lanzó en los arbustos. Doy una patada a las rocas al lado y amon-tonó las hojas. Alzó la vista para encontrar Claudia, no quise dejar mi punto o alguien podría tomarlo. Entonces, de la punta de mi ojo noto al hombre con el aliento de tequila que me hace apartar la vista. Sus ojos se estrecharon en mi dirección, con sus codos que descansan en sus rodillas rajando sus nudillos. Mi cara dio vuelta giró rojo como el-evarse, conseguí un terrón en mi garganta. Mis músculos se apretaron, mis rodillas cerradas con llave, mi corazón corría. Este hombre me asusta. Él me mira como una serpiente lista a atrapar a un ratón con esto es dientes.

“Maria!” Claudia me habla.“Ben  juega con las niñas!”En este punto no me preocupé por el punto, sólo no quise estar

alrededor del tipo. Veo a las muchachas bailar alrededor.“Hola, soy Maria,” les saludo“Hola. Yo soy Christina, ella es Nora.” me dicen con una sonrisa.Ellas me enciendo  como bailar, y hablamos de cómo queremos

nuestras bodas, y cómo queremos decorar nuestras casa. Cuando veo a Claudia hablando con los tres muchachos con los tatuajes. Para donde van?

El sol comienza a bajar y la gente ilumina el fuego en los barriles. Digo hasta la vista a Nora y Claudia y voy mirando dentro del bosque mini, y veo a los tipos jugar con el fuego. Mis ojos rompen con el humo que tarda alrededor. Reconozco este smell…it’s un olor de hier-bas aceitoso. Claudia no parece bien, sus ojos son embotados y su

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The Road to Nowherecabeza sigue sacudiendo. Los tipos se ríen todos, pero no pienso que Claudia se siente bien. El get's de Eduardo más cerca a Claudia, des-cansa su brazo alrededor de sus hombros, y besa su mejilla. ¿Qué hace él? Rompo un palo cuando doy un paso hacia ellos. Los tipos alzan la vista y Eduardo exige que ellos miren para alguien la llegada. Mi corazón es racing…I no saben que hacer, soy asustado de lo que podría pasar si ellos me ven. No puedo ayudar a Claudia y los amigos de Eduardo me empujaran sólo. Claudia echa a Eduardo, y trata de despertar pero él la tira al brazo y ella se cae a la tierra. El fuego muere, no puedo ver sus caras más. Él fija su cuerpo a la tierra fría con su pierna abrigada alrededor el suyo, deslizando una mano bajo su camisa. ¡No! ¡Este no pasa! Giro y vuelvo corriendo a las pistas de tren. Cada uno es profundamente dormido, estoy al acecho alrededor para encontrar.

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The Road to Nowhere

La Tierra De Letras, Romero

Zion DavisI’m here, finally! A way to be free. A troubled paradise, but a liv-

ing hell. Being in the United States of America is not like anything in the travel magazines. The leaking pipes around my small apartment cause the wooden floors to reek of a stench that I have become im-mune to. My mattress lays on the floor as my head is near a wall of peeling paint. As I look outside to what is supposed to be a beautiful view, I see a brick wall that blinds my fantasy. Although, my house is far from the American dream the city is alright. I walk the streets of Los Angeles to meet up with my close friend Alan. I came with him to America. As I’m walking towards him, he smiles widely and greets me with more excitement.

“I have some news of your brother. He’s in El Salvador. He’s not doing so well though. I am afraid you might not like it.”

My smile fades as I back up from his embracing hug, “What do you mean, not doing so well?”

He nods his head in a disappointing notion, “He’s in a gang, Romero. MS13. You know that’s not good. That leads to drugs and all that nonsense, man.”

My jaw and fists clench together, I begin to feel lightheaded with all the emotions I was feeling at once. “No mi hermano! No mi her-mano!”

I slammed my body on the curb just outside of Alan’s house. Rage and guilt filled my body with thoughts of what would have hap-pened if I had been there for him. For leaving him out there and not going back to get him before all the corruption happened in El Sal-vador.

Alan walks over and places his hand on my shoulder, “Soy hom-bre lo siento, sé que es lo último que necesitas escuchar ahora mismo.”

“It’s fine,” still trying to ease the tension in my head with my hands buried in my face, “I have to… I have to find a way to get him here!” I exclaim.

Alan’s face lit up like the setting sun reflecting on a L.A. sky-scraper, “His name is Cesar but goes by El Cuidado, he is a very cau-tious guy who knows his way around Central America. He will get

your brother here safe but of course for the right price. He is staying at the motel down the street about to make the journey back tomor-row. Go see him if you would like to have your brother here.”

As I walk home bright orange and light red fill the sky, covered with graceful pink clouds. Questions bounce in my mind as to what happened to my family. I open my front door with a loud ‘creak’ from the hinges. I close the door gently as my eyes grow weary from a long day's work and tragic news. I rolled onto my bed and stare out the window where the fantasy of a city view is suppose to be. I shortly snap out the fulfilling mirage.

I peer through the slightly open blinds. A man yells, “Who is it?”“Romero Pérez. I’m looking for El Cuidado...”The sound of locks switch quickly. The shine from his bald head

surprises my eyes. He’s an older man with a full beard, “Yes, come in at once.”

His accent was thick with a nerdy tenderness to it, “¿en qué puedo servirle?”

I tell him the news of my brother. He lays out a map of his routes of getting to America, “The easiest route is to go from El Salvador, through Belize, and then Mexico, we will get there by train. Now let’s negotiate a price.”

My palms get heavy, the awkward eye contact burns through my skull. He extends the number, “Three thousand dollars.”

I look up in shock, all I have in savings from my time in America is two thousand. How will I support myself for the next few days? He reaches under the table getting restless. He pulls his hand up and sets a gun on the table.“Is two thousand fine?” I ask nervously.

He glances at me with a daunted look, “ Two thousand five hun-dred.”

I pause with hesitation scared of what would happen if I denied.“Agreed, amigo,” I say with shakiness in my voice.  He tells me

he is leaving tonight at ten o'clock. The route we have chosen will take thirty days if all goes well. They will make three stops at Guatemala, Belize, and Mexico. I tell him that I will be sending letters to my brother through old friends met on my trip to America. He will receive them on the stops they will make.

4/10

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The Road to NowhereLocation: Border of El Salvador

Dear Kenny,

I will be sending you letters throughout your journey with money so you can afford food and stay at nearby motels. I hope all goes well on your journey. It will be a struggle with MS13 on your tail. Don’t let anybody walk over you, you are strong. Stay away from the drugs, with an addiction like yours it will be tough. We were born to be bet-ter than that. I’m sorry that mom and dad could only send me to the America. We missed out on so many years together.  I’ve lived with tio Alberto. He’s doing well, he said he thinks about you daily. I told him of our plans to get you here and he can help you get your visa/residency. I live in a small house, my paycheck is not that big. I ask for a lower paycheck in order to get hired. Six dollars an hour when the minimum wage is ten dollars. Finding a job was hard. I went to a nearby school that taught me how to write in English and speak it bet-ter. I stay here because it my best luck at finding a job, but I hate it here because sometimes I’m stereotyped for being a criminal or being apart of a gang because I’m Salvadorian. Life here is hell but I prom-ise you things will be better. You’ll be away from all the corruption and the haunting memories of our parents. I wish they could have seen the man I’ve become and maybe you wouldn’t have gone down the path you went. I get lonely here most of the time. Water leaks from the ceiling dripping into a bucket I’ve placed beneath. I work as a janitor in an old drive-in theater. My boss disrespects me, calling me a wetback or a spic. I wonder from time to time as to why mom and dad made me leave. The police stop me from time to time questioning my intentions, ‘Where you going Joaquin?’ They slam me on the hood, beat me then leave me in the streets bloody, and bruised. This makes me so frustrated at the world. Why are good people treated so badly.  I wish to be in a higher place in a condo with a bird’s eye view. My own office to work in with a fancy laptop and work assis-tants to fetch me coffee. I really hope you get this, you should get sixty dollars. En hermano de tiempo nos encontraremos otra vez.

Sincerely, Romero

Days go by, I walk to Alan’s house. He hands me a letter with a warming smile, ”Here you go, mi amigo.”

As I open the letter the wells of my eyes fill up. Kenny is safe… I sigh with relief. I read the letter over and over again.

“Wow this is really my brother.” Alan pats me on the back. I read about how his life was in El Salvador. The gang life, drugs, friends, family, the hotel he is staying at, the weather and his encounters with MS13 on his journey.

As I sit inside of the janitor rooms at the drive in been pouring down in Los Angeles for days with very little sunshine. It means less work for me at the theater. Thunder cracks as I walk to Alan’s house so he can deliver the next letter to Kenny.

“He should receive this in Guatemala.”I look at him with a contented look. There is a big amount of

money in this one to pay the smuggler the rest of his money. He nods and walks me out of his house.

“Make sure this gets to him for sure,” I say.“Yes mi amigo, for sure.” Alan was a good guy, sometimes too good.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4/25Location: Border of Guatemala

Dear Kenny,

You should be getting a big amount of money in this letter. No matter what, I will see you one day.  It is going to take a while. Make sure the smuggler gets some of this money. Don’t spend it on drugs! I repeat do not use it on drugs! Alan will be giving me updates on you. These past few days have been hard working overtime, struggling to get extra hours from my boss. I haven’t slept in days. I worry about you, the plans, my job, my home. How will I survive? I can’t get fi-nancial aid, trust me I tried. Health insurance? My job doesn’t cover any of it. I’ve applied to work as a housekeeper in a big house across the freeway. The lawn trimmed to a perfect cut. Perfectly tinted win-dows to let in just enough  sunlight, and halls made for dancing and tea parties. The owners are an old couple about mid sixties with smiles white as snow. They are always kind but tend to be rude when guests are around.They’re happy to employ me but think I’m an im-migrant that takes Americans jobs, doesn’t contribute to the country,

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The Road to Nowhereand lives off financial aid doing nothing but taking from America. I pay taxes. I don’t have financial aid. I make my own money. I do not live up to my stereotypes... See you soon. En hermano de tiempo nos encontraremos otra vez.

Sincerely, Romero------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days like this I wish I could stay home. The air brushes against my skin as my hairs stand up. The dense frosty cloak drafts across the streets like waves washing up on shore. Nothing felt okay it felt like someone had  invaded my privacy.. I head to Alan’s house for  the usual update.

“Hola, mi amigo,” he shouts from the kitchen“ What’s up?” I say.“I’m doing just fine, although your amigo in Belize, Pedro,  gave

me a hard time. He took forever to pick up the letter. I yelled at him and he soon apologized. Romero that’s some friend you have,” he chuckles.

“Trust him, he’s been there for me when I needed him,” I say quickly.

“Okay, let’s hope everything goes as plan,” he says snapping off two bottle tops. We sit at the table for a couple of hours talking about work and reminiscing about our dreams, past adventures, and family. Just another casual day of dreaming of a world that could almost never be true.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

4/30Location: Belize

Dear Kenny,

Time is near, I will be looking forward to seeing and hearing your voice. I’ve been starting to get back on my feet. Tio Alberto has helped me out a number of times in the past and once again has stepped up.  That’s crazy La Migra almost caught you. You got lucky, but you can’t be always lucky. Be more careful. Your friend Ricardo seems pretty cool, how did you guys meet? You meet a lot of nice people along the way and some who will turn their backs on you. Ob-

serve who you meet and how they act, their body language, and how they speak. Getting through Mexico is the hard part. They have some people who are on La Bestia who will sell you out to the devil. They’ve done it a number of times for extra money. It’s crazy what you see and what you hear. Women being rapped and killed, families killed right in front of each other, people getting robbed and jumped, thrown off the train left for dead. It could be you, keep looking over your shoulder because MS13 is all over that land. When off the train keep yourself well hydrated. Ration your resources. It will be very hot, the sand will burn and feel as if it’s eating away at your skin. I hate memories of my journey… I cringe just thinking about it and never want to be in that place ever again.The hot heavy sun on me like a large boulder. I had to leave a good friend in the desert. He had a wife in America who was pregnant with his child. With dreams of being a happy family. I want for us to be reunited once and for all. En hermano de tiempo nos encontraremos otra vez.

Sincerely, Romero

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tired from another long day. I’ve just come from the side of the town where everything is white, and the buildings are tall. I hop of the bus and the smell of creamy coffee brushes. The glare of shiny shoes blind my eyes as people flash past.I make eye contact with a few peo-ple. I smile and get nothing back but a steer of a head or a hand to the face. I say hello and yet still no reply. I walk into a store with watches of gold, silver, and titanium. Above is hung a crystal chandelier,light bouncing off in every direction. I feel eyes ripping my way, quick short glances watching my every move. I walk past a woman who grips her purse tightly. A man in a black suit walks up to me and asks me to leave. I question him as to what I did wrong. He points to the door, “Why don’t you go back to where you came from.”

I look at him with a solemn look, “You can’t be serious.”“GO! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS,” he says harshly. I clinch my jaw and walk out the door, my head never hung so

low. My body grows hot, I begin to sweat. I’d only wish I never went there.  The scene plays in my mind on replay. Yet I still question the

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The Road to Nowhere‘land of the free’. I wake up to the sound of the phone blaring.  I pick it up just in time before the line turns dead.

“Hello, who is this?” I ask. The static from the telephone makes it hard for me to decypher the man on the other end.

I hear a faint, “It’s Kenny.”  My jaw drops. He does not sound like that kid I once knew.

“How are you calling me?” I say.“A family in Mexico took me in and let me use the phone.”“What the hell happened?” I say angrily.Romero there wasn’t any money to to pay the smuggler and he

abandoned me…”I pause shortly to think, “You used it for drugs,” I shout into the

phone.“No, No I…” he exclaims.“How could you? This is all your fault. I try to do one great thing

for us and you abuse my trust.” I slam down the phone I sit,distraught. It rings again. I grip the the phone hard and place to to my ear.

“Romero, please hear me out I don’t know who took it but I didn’t use it for drugs.” he says sincerely.  There was dead silence on the phone, I hear a deep sigh.

“I…I believe you,” I say.“You do?” he says.“You are my family, that trust bond can’t be broken easy. I will

send you some more money for the rest of the trip and find out what happened to the money. En hermano de tiempo nos encontraremos otra vez.”

“Ok, En hermano de tiempo nos encontraremos otra vez,” he re-sponds. I set the phone down with relief and  sit there in silence.

A lot of questions become a web in my mind. Could it have been Alan?  I race over to his house to find out the truth. I run there, the wind blowing my hair cooling down my heated body.

“Alan!”He pulls out his hand for me to shake it, “Hey man how was your

da…”I smack his hand out of the way, “What the hell happened to the

money?” I yell.“What?” he looks at me with a confused look.“You know what I said,”  I say holding my fist up.“Stop, mi amigo, I didn’t do it,” he says with an innocent look in

his eye.

“Oh yeah, then who was it?” I lower my fist.“It was probably that fool, Pedro.” He shakes his head. “I knew

something was weird about him.”I didn’t want to believe it, but people change. I release Alan from

my grasp.“You’re going loco, hombre,” he says adjusting his clothes. I

apologize and walk home. I learn something valuable that day. The closest friends can be your enemies…

I enter my house after coming back from the drive-in theater. He’s here! I’ve received a voicemail from Tio Alberto explaining how he got Kenny into America. He invites me to his ranch to meet my brother once again. I thought this day would never come. Would it be awkward? What will he look like? I sit on my bed thinking of all things that could happen. My heart begins to slow from the exciting news. I take a shower, then go to bed to mentally prepare myself for tomorrow.

My eyelids burst open with the sun in my eyes shining through the blinds. I sit up to stretch my legs. I hadn’t slept that good in a while. The bus is scheduled to leave at ten o’clock, it’s nine thirty. I hop into the shower and slide on my usual clothes. I race out to the bus stop. The sky is filled with plump white clouds with just the right amount of sunlight. The warm summer air pushes against me as I ap-proach the stop next to Tio Alberto’s ranch. I walk along the driveway that leads to the front door. I ring the doorbell, it chimes of a rhythm reminding me of days with my mother and father. The door opens widely.

“Tio Alberto,  I barely recognize you,” I say as he wraps his arms around me.

“It’s the hair, huh,” he questions.“Where is Kenny?”“Over in the field. Go say hello, he couldn’t stop talking about

you.” We discuss where Kenny will live, how his visa will be ap-proved. I walk out the house and into the field. The smell of crops fills the air. I see Kenny in the distance. As I get closer I see the bags under his eyes. He looks like hasn’t slept.

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The Road to Nowhere“Hermano,” I shout. He looks up with the widest smile I’ve ever

seen. I feel the warm embrace of his hold. “Lo hicimos hermano.... Lo hicimos.”

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The Road to Nowhere

La Tierra De Letras, Kenny (Excerpt)

Nick GreenIt's dark, cold, lonely and not very many people like me. I be-

came a part of this gang MS13 but I wish I never had. I had no choice. My family was poor in El Salvador, not much food on the table, cold nights with patches in my roof. My parents sent my brother off to America. I remember the day. It was a regular day, but my parents were always worrisome about my brother and I going to school. El Salvador was becoming corrupt with gangs and government and my parents would tell me and how I would go to America and have a good life.

I felt like every day I was being lied to my parents. They would tell me that we would make it to America and I would live a clean life. But every day everything is getting worse; my drug addic-tion, the gang violence. The person I really want to see is my brother Romero. He is the only family member I have left and he made it to America. One of my biggest hopes I  have is going to America and starting a new life. Having a house and something to work for. When I get to America I’m going to change my ways and sober up. But be-fore I get there I have to meet up with a smuggler that my brother lined me up with to try and get me to America safely.

Today was a better day. It was better because I received a let-ter from my brother. I was shocked that he reached out to me. When I received the letter there was a pit in my stomach. I opened the letter quickly. The paper fell from my hand and now I can finally see hope for a better life. I found paper and pen and started writing a reply.

Dear Romero,

Hey brother I miss you like crazy and wish you never left, You and I could have had each other to try and make it. Thanks for the money I’ve been going crazy. Truth be told I’m having with-drawals from the drugs. I’m paranoid because of MS-13. They found me boarding the train and I’ve never had a panic attack like that in my life. The La Migra is a big problem. They have stopped me a number

of times because I have a MS-13 tattoo on my neck which makes me a definite target, I need money or to figure out a way to get it off so I can’t be easily picked out of the crowed and killed. America will be a change for me and not all fun because you got slammed on top of the police car and beat up for no reason. If and when I get out there the cops will definitely will beat me because they're going to think I'm on drugs. But I hope it's going to be fun and I can get my life back and make good choices.

Until next time,

Kenny

After I was done writing I quickly went to go find a  post of-fice box because I wanted him to see my letter as soon as possible. As I was about to slip my letter into the box, doubts clouded my judg-ment. What if he hates my letter? I tell myself that he reached out to me. He wants to talk to me and he wants to see me. So I sent the letter out and prayed he likes it.

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The Road to Nowhere

El Salvador

La Verdad – Isabel Sofia Murillo…………………………......129Los Sueños – Fehung Ly……………….………………….….139Estrella – Autrina Maroufi…………………………...……….147

In this collection of short stories, authors Isabel Murillo, Fehung Ly, and Autrina Maroufi dive into the complications surrounding im-migration. El Salvadorean blood, sweat, and tears of joy run through the pages. Your mind will gradually delve deeper and deeper into the messages. Bonds will be formed, lives will be lost, and dreams will be fulfilled. Every story of immigration is its own unique journey through the lives of people, just like you and me.

La Verdad

Isabel MurilloEstoy mirando en mi ventanita, recordando la última vez que vi a

mi madre, yéndose al trabajo. Cierro mis ojos y escucho a las calles que nunca duermen, tomando lo de dentro. Son las 5 y media de la mañana y ya casi es hora de despertar a mi hermanita, para llevarla a la escuela. La escucho en la cama debajo de mí, respirando profunda-mente, todavía soñando en un mundo mejor que el nuestro. Yo por otra parte tengo pensamientos que no salen de mi cerebro. Estoy en un estado constante de preocupación. El terror de las calles nunca paran de sonar. El Salvador, el país, es donde nacimos, y donde tenemos to-das las memorias de cuando éramos niños jugando en los parques. Memorias de cuando éramos una familia feliz y el único ruido que es-taba alrededor de nosotros era el sonido de nuestras risas. Pero ahora, nuestra tierra se está convirtiendo en una pesadilla.

Elena, mi hermana, es la persona más importante en mi vida. Es mi responsabilidad protegerla y asegurar que nada le pase. Ella es lo único que tengo. Apenas tiene 10 años, pero ser un niño aquí en El Salvador es bien peligroso. Aquí los niños quieren ser parte de la so-ciedad. Quieren que las personas le escuchen lo que necesitan decir, pero creen que la única manera para que eso sea posible es si entran a las pandillas. Eso quieren las pandillas. Quieren hacer que los ninos piensen que todos sus problemas serán resueltos, que van a ser miem-bros importantes en la sociedad. Por eso es que las pandillas buscan a jóvenes, para manipularlos en hacer lo que ellos quieren. Muchos que eran mis amigos fueron forzados a crecer bien rápido. Tuvieron que cuidar a sus hermanos menores y empezar a trabajar a una edad muy joven. Por esa razón, se involucraron en las pandillas, creyendo que haría sus vidas más fácil. Pero no era así, muchos de ellos han falle-cido. Ahora las amigas de mi hermana se están involucrando en las pandillas de MS13 y Barrio 18, y eso me esta dando miedo, miedo en que ella tal vez también se involucre.  

Tengo los ojos abiertos ahora. Me pongo de lado para mirar a la pared al lado de mi cama, donde tengo dibujos que mi hermana me ha hecho. Los tenemos por todo nuestro cuarto para esconder las paredes tristes. Unos dibujos son de flores, otros son de plantas, pero mi fa-

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The Road to Nowherevorito es el dibujo de mi hermana, mi papá y mi mamá que muestra la familia feliz que antes éramos. Mi mamá se murió hace 8 años, yo tenía 8 y mi hermana tenia 2 años. Mi hermana apenas se recuerda de mi mamá pero le cuento historias de ella para que no se olvide de ella.

Cuando mi mamá se murió, todos en mi familia cambiaron, pero mi papá cambió aún más. El se convirtió en alguien que no conocía. Su olor empezó a cambiar en algo más fuerte, y su carácter nunca era lo mismo. Se enojaba muy rápido y aveces yo me despertaba con moretones en mi brazo por las peleas que tenia con mi padre acerca de su adicción a las drogas, alcohol. Cuando empecé a ver que estaba cambiando, me dio miedo de lo que podía pasar con mi hermanita. Todavía tengo esas preocupaciones todo los días, pienso que él puede llegar a lastimar nos.

Tenía 10 años cuando mi papá paró de trabajar. El antes trabajaba en una granja creciendo café, pero no le iba tan bien. Iba todo los dias a trabajar duro debajo del sol que le quitaba mucho de su energía. Eso pasó mucho con otros padres también, que terminan rindiéndose de trabajar tan duro por tan poco dinero. Esto causa que entren a una pandilla para ganar ingresos. Mi padre regresó a la pandilla Barrio 18, porque él no quiso verse como un fracaso. El quiso sentirse impor-tante como antes, cuando era joven y era parte de Barrio 18. Me da pena que mi papá está en una pandilla, porque eso significa que el es un ratero, asesino. Pero lo peor es que nosotras estamos perdiendo al único padre que tenemos.  

Mi hermana se empieza a mover mucho. Eso significa que es hora para levantarme. Me empiezo a vestirme en la ropa fea que tengo. Siempre he querido tener ropa elegante y bonita como la gente ricas, pero no es tan fácil con el poco dinero que gano. Mi hermana va a la escuela mientras yo trabajo en el centro de El Salvador haciendo tortillas, para tratar de mantenernos. Gano suficiente dinero para poca comida, pero no tengo dinero para comprar ropa o medicina. De vez en cuando, mi papá entra a la casa lleno de cosas. Algunas veces nos trae comida, otras veces juegos para nosotros, pero la mayoría de las veces son botellas de alcohol. Comemos la comida que trae pero nos da un poco de vergüenza, porque sabemos que esa comida fue robada de una familia como la nuestra. Una familia también luchando por mantener a su familia saludable, y asalvo. Pero, si no comemos la co-mida que nuestro padre nos trae, él nos pega y nos grita, por no apre-ciar lo que nos trae. Yo ya llevo cuatro años sin ir a la escuela. Me da

tristeza porque me encantaba ir, pero aprendí que necesitas hacer sac-rificios para las personas que amamos.

Mi hermana por fin se levanta y se viste para ir a la escuela. Se pone su uniforme de la escuela. Es un uniforme bien simple con los colores azul y blanco. Tuve que trabajar muy duro, y ahorrar por mu-chos meses. Yo recojo las pocas cosas que necesito para el trabajo, como el poco dinero que tenemos, y una foto de mi mamá que traigo conmigo a todas partes. Las dos ya estamos listas, pero antes de que salgo de la casa, reviso el cuarto de mi papá para ver si se encontraba ahí. Algunas veces no está en la casa por toda la noche, otras veces llega borracho, gritando y destruyendo la casa por todo el enojo que tiene, y pocas veces entra a la casa normalmente. Pero cuando entro a su cuarto, no veo nada más que ropa en el piso y la alfombra con botellas vacías. Ahí es cuando supe que mi papá nunca regresó du-rante la noche, y quien sabe en qué problemas se metió.

Ahora, afuera de nuestra casa estamos en el peligro de las calles. El sol todavía no ha salido de su escondite, y eso significa que los monstruos de Barrio 18 y MS13 todavía pueden estar afuera en las calles buscando a sus próximas víctimas. Agarró a mi hermana fuerte de su brazo, asegurando de que yo estoy a su lado y no dejar que algo le pase. Caminamos por la calle, asegurando que no hacemos contacto con nadie, por si acaso quieren algo de nosotras. Los movemos rápi-damente, evitando las luces de las calles para que sea más difícil de vernos. Odio tener tanto miedo al caminar por mis calles. Ni puedo dejar a mi hermana en la escuela sin preocuparme que las pandillas la agarran ahí, o que sus amigas le digan algo. Vivo en una pesadilla, en la que me siento atrapada.

“Ya llegamos a la escuela. ¿Estás lista?” Le pregunto cuando veo a la escuela enfrente de nosotros, y sé que mi hermana esta lista, pero la pregunta es más para mi, porque no sé si estoy lista para dejarla en un lado donde no estára segura.

“No necesito ir a la escuela, Irene. Puedo ir contigo a trabajar. Tu sabes que necesitamos más dinero, y no puedes cuidarnos a las dos tú sola.” Elena, me dice, agarrando mi mano. Le da pena que yo no puedo ir a la escuela porque necesito cuidarnos. Pero a mi no me im-porta, yo necesito trabajar, y mi hermana necesita ir a la escuela aunque me da miedo.

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The Road to Nowhere“No, sabes la importancia de la educación, te he dicho muchas

veces. Si sigues yendo a la escuela tienes una oportunidad de tener un futuro mejor...”

“¿Pero qué tal tu futuro? ¿No te importa tu futuro? Entiendo que quieres lo mejor para mi, pero necesitas pensar en tu misma.” Sus ojos se empiezan a llenarse de agua, y su cara se empieza a poner roja. Más personas empiezan a llegar, y nos pasan viéndonos con cu-riosidad. Agarró a mi hermana de la mano y la jalo a una esquina de la escuela. No dejo su mano, más bien la apachurro más fuerte.

“Claro que me importa mi futuro, pero hasta que tu puedas cuidarte a ti misma, yo necesito cuidarte. Tu apenas tienes diez años.”

“Pero...”“Pero nada, ya no quiero hablar de esto, tú necesitas entrar a la

escuela antes de que llegues tarde a clase, te veo en el mismo lugar que siempre.” La interrumpo antes de que esta conversación siga más, porque sé que sí seguimos hablando de esto solo vamos a empezar una pelea que dura demasiado tiempo, y será peligroso si alguien los escucha.

La veo voltearse para entrar a la escuela, pero antes de que entra a la escuela le gritó su nombre para que se voltea. Me mira con una cara de frustración.

“Cuidate mucho, y te quiero Elena,” le digo, porque no quiero que piense que estoy enojada con ella. Elena me ve con sus ojos cafés, y sonríe, diciéndome que me quiere tambien, y eso es cuando se voltea y entra por las puertas dañadas de la escuela, y camina lejos de mi vista.

En el camino a mi trabajo pienso mucho en mi hermana, y en mi mamá. Estoy celosa de mi hermana y lo tanto que se parece a mi mamá. Mi hermana tiene los ojos cafes y la sonrisa de mi mamá. Yo por otra parte me parezco como mi padre. Mi padre y yo tenemos los ojos azules que no es comun aqui. Nadie piensa que mi hermana y yo estamos relacionados y tampoco piensan que mi hermana es hija de mi papá. Que suerte tiene mi hermana de parecerse más como mi madre.

Cuando llego a mi trabajo que está en un puesto pequeño, cerca de muchos restaurantes, preparo mis cosas para hacer tortillas. Hago las tortillas para vender a los restaurantes alrededor de mi puesto. Unas veces tengo días que me compran mucho, y otras veces apenas consigo algo. También compito con las otras niñas que están tratando de ganar dinero. Lo bueno de aquí, es que estas calles llenas de restau-

rantes, no hay tanto peligro porque las pandillas no vienen aquí. Si vienen las pandillas, no hacen nada menos pintar sus marcas en las paredes de los resturantes para que todos todavía sepan que ellos están encargados de esta parte del El Salvador.

Empiezo a cocinar las tortillas haciendo cinco a la vez para que si los resturantes me dicen que necesitan tortillas, comprar en las mías. Cuando estoy esperando que las tortillas se calienten, lo veo a él, viniendo hacia mi. Desde donde estoy veo que sus ojos están rojos y apenas si puedo ver el azul que antes estaba en sus ojos. Me quedo en mi banco haciendo mis tortillas pretendiendo que no lo vi viniendo hacia mi. Cuando llega a mi lado, no dice nada por un rato. Veo para arriba a su cara y veo algo en sus ojos. Veo el odio que detiene, el do-lor que esconde, y el miedo que sujeta, pero todo esto está guardado de abajo de sus ojos rojos de toda la droga que ha consumido.

“¿Qué quieres?” Le digo, viendo alrededor de mi, porque no quiero que nadie vea que estoy hablando con unos de ellos.

“Mejor hablamos en privado.” Empieza a caminar a otro lado, y al principio no quiero ir con él, pero se si no voy va a haber conse-cuencia al rato, y además necesito saber que me quiere decir. Me paro de mi banco, y camino a una esquina donde está mi padre esperán-dome.

“Necesito dinero.” Me dice, sacando su mano como si en ese mo-mento le entregaría dinero.   

“No, no tengo suficiente dinero para darte, y para cuidar a Elena y a mi. Más bien no tengo dinero, entonces ve a buscar en otro lugar.” Él puede ver el dolor que tengo cuando digo esto. Puede ver toda la pena y el odio que tengo hacia él, pero no hace nada, porque aunque él lo puede ver, él ya no es el padre que antes era. No capta el dolor que nos hace, a mi y a mi hermana.

“Irene no juegues, necesito el dinero para pagarles a unos de mis amigos, si no me lo das van a haber consecuencias.” Cuando me dice esto me pongo mas enojada con el. ¿Sus amigos? ¿Ahora está llamán-dolos sus amigos? Que no sabe cuanto las pandillas han lastimado a nuestra familia, cuanto le han maltratado a él mismo. No puedo creerlo, se que ya nunca puede ser el padre que antes era, pero siem-pre creia que todavia tenia una parte de él que todavía nos protegerá de los malos como antes. Pero ahora veo que ya no es así, ahora está trayendo el peligro a nosotros. Antes, el era un padre que nos protegía de nuestras pesadillas, que me prometió que nada malo me iba pasar.

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The Road to Nowhere“¡Estas loco! Como puedes llamarlos tus amigos, no ves cuánto

han destruido nuestra familia, no entiendes eso.” Mis ojos se em-piezan a llenar de agua, pero no quiero llorar, no quiero que vea que tan rota estoy por dentro. Trato de recuperarme y verme fuerte en-frente de mi padre, pero no es fácil.

“Ellos han ayudado a nuestra familia. ¡Si no me hubiera involu-crado todos nosotros estaríamos muertos!” Cómo puede decir todo esto. Se que ya no es la misma persona que era antes, pero necesito que vuelva al padre que antes era.

Cuando mi padre tenía siete años su familia se fue a vivir a Los Ángeles. Hubo una guerra civil en 1980, que hizo El Salvador difícil de vivir en. Esa fue la razón porque mi padre y mucha otras familias como la de mi madre se fueron a Los Ángeles. La familia de mi mamá y papá se fueron a los Estados Unidos ilegalmente, viviendo en vecin-darios peligrosos. Jóvenes empezaron a formar pandillas para prote-gerse. Así es como las pandillas Barrio 18 y MS 13 se formaron.  Ahí ser parte de una pandilla era lo máximo. Mis padres se conocieron cuando tenían 16 años porque los dos estaban involucrados en una pandilla. Mis padres no eran buenas personas cuando vivían en Los Ángeles. Se metían en peleas, robaban a los inocentes, y vendían dro-gas. Así es como crecieron, tratando de sobrevivir en las peligrosas calles de Los Ángeles, con padres que duraban largas horas en el tra-bajo tratando de ganar suficiente dinero. La educación no importaba tanto como la importancia de ser parte de la sociedad, y estar involu-crada en una pandilla te aseguraba de eso.

Mi padre junto con mucho otros, fueron deportados en 1995 un año después que yo nací en los Estados Unidos. Muchos fueron de-portados por estar en una pandilla, y fue por eso porque mi padre fue deportado. Mi mamá no quiso quedarse en Los Ángeles sin mi papá, por el miedo de que podrían matarla, entonces me llevo con ella de re-greso a El Salvador, para estar con mi padre. Cuando regresó al El Salvador mis padres decidieron de empezar una nueva vida sin estar involucrados en una pandilla. De tratar de hacer mi vida la mejor que las suyas. Así es como me gusta recordar a mi madre, como una mamá que se reía conmigo y me protegía de las malas cosas en el mundo. Mi padre tambien cambio cuando regreso de Los Ángeles, siendo el padre que ahora sueno de tener por regreso.

Cuando mi hermana nació en el año 2000, el problema de la pandilla se estaba empeorando en El Salvador porque todos estaban siendo deportados a El Salvador. Mi padre empezó a actuar más ex-

traño y mis padres estaban peleando mas y mas, pero yo nunca me preocupe. En el 2002 todo empezó a cambiar. Mi mamá empezó a lle-gar más tarde a la casa, y aveces tenia moretones por toda su brazo. Las peleas con mis padres se empeoraron y unas veces escuchaba vidrio rompiéndose. Yo cuidaba a mi hermana cuando mis padres es-taban demasiado ocupados peleando o afuera en las calles platicando en secreto con otras gentes. Yo solo tenia 8 años para saber la verdad. Un dia mi madre nunca regresó a la casa. Yo esperaba a ella junto a la pequeña ventana pero nunca regresó. Preguntaba a mi papá de ella pero nunca me decía nada, solo que se fue.

”¡Dame el dinero! Eres igual que tu madre bien terca. Mira lo que paso con ella, por no ayudar está muerta, y tú, tú quieres ser como ella, una tonta imbecil mujer.”

“¡Que! Mi madre está muerta, como pudistes tener este secreto a mi, a mi hermana!  

Eres un ogro, ella era mi mamá, yo la amaba, y tú no me dijistes que se murió.” No puedo soportarlo, empiezo a llorar porque ya no puedo más. Todas estas mentiras en que mi hermana y yo hemos vivido, pensando que nuestra mamá ya no quería nada que ver con nosotros. No puedo mirarlo en su cara, y pensar que el es mi padre, que él es la persona que ha traído todo el peligro, y mentiras en nues-tras vidas. Luego, de repente siento una cachetada, y al principio no entiendo que acaba de pasar, pero cuando miro a mi padre veo el enojo que tiene.

“Si está muerta, y yo fui la que la mató, y no me arrepiento de eso. Ella era una mentirosa, y ella consigo lo que merecía. Solo estaba causando más problemas.” Lo dice como si yo debería de  estar feliz con eso, de que debería estar orgulloso de él.

“¡Te odio!” Le digo, y luego empiezo a correr a la escuela, tratando de ir lo más rápido que puedo para que pueda llegar cerca de mi hermana.  

Cuando llegó a la escuela hay guardaespaldas por todas las puer-tas, esto es normal, siempre están aquí tratando de asegurar que nadie entra a la escuela.

“Necesito entrar a la escuela.” Le gritó a las guardaespaldas para que me dejan entrar, pero solo se acercan más a las puertas, como si yo era la mala aqui.

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The Road to Nowhere“Nadie puede entrar, ya casi termina la escuela, si puedes esperar

un rato ya casi se termina la escuela.” Me dicen, con las caras bien se-rios.

“No, no puedo esperar, necesito recoger a mi hermana. ¡Por favor déjame!” Les digo en desesperación. Se ven entre ellos mismos, y como me han visto dejar y recoger a mi hermana de la escuela, me de-jan pasar. Corro por la sucia escuela, hasta que llegó a la clase de mi hermana. Cuando me ve mi hermana tiene una cara de confusión y ella puede ver que tengo miedo de algo. Mi hermana es bien lista. Como yo, mi hermana tuvo que crecer muy rápido. Ella tuvo que aprender cómo depender de ella misma, siempre le dije que yo estaria ahi para ella, y trato lo mejor de mi para que puedo estar ahí para ella pero no es tan fácil.

“¿Que pasa, porque me estas recojiendo bien temprano?” Me pre-gunta esto en secreto, para que sus otros compañeros no pueden es-cuchar.

“Necesitamos irnos, te explico todo en el camino, pero ya ten-emos que irnos.” Le digo, agarrándole la mano y corriendo a la calle. Cuando estamos en la calle, camino rapido con mi cabeza para abajo para que nadie me vea por si acaso mi papá ha dicho a la pandilla. No le digo nada a mi hermana para que nadie nos escuche.

“Toma esta bolsa y pon todo lo que necesitas, ropa, fotos, lo que sea pero no lleves tanto.” Le digo a mi hermana al llegar a la casa. Yo también agarro una bolsa y empiezo a empacar ropa, y fotos de mi madre y hermana que estaban en una caja a lado de mi cama.

“¿Porque, qué está pasando, Irene para de empacar y explicame a donde vamos y porque?” Me grita mi hermana con desesperación. Cuando me dice esto no se si decirle la verdad. Como le puedo decir que nuestro padre es un monstruo. Que nuestra mamá no nos dejó que ella fue asesinado por nuestro papá. Pero luego me acuerdo como mi padre escondió la verdad, y no quiero eso para mi hermana.

“Nuestro papá no es la persona que pensamos que era. Él es muy peligroso y nos necesitamos ir lejos de él.” Sigo empacando porque me quiero ir ya. Agarró el dinero que he guardado debajo de nuestra cama, y lo pongo en mi mochila. No quiero que mi padre llegue y nosotros todavía estemos aquí. El sol se está ocultando y se que el tiempo se está acabando.

“Ya se que nuestro padre no es una buena persona, pero no pode-mos dejar todo e irnos. ¿ Además a dónde iremos?” Mi hermana me dice tratando de pararme de empacar pero no paro.

“A los Estados Unidos, nuestros abuelos todavía están alla. Sera perfecto, cruzaremos a Estados Unidos, y luego nos encontraremos.” Le digo, como si mis pensamientos están brincando de mi cerebro a mi boca.

“Estas loca! No hemos hablado con ellos ni sabes sus nombres. Irene piensa lo que estás diciendo.” Ahora mi hermana me detiene, y me agarra fuerte de la mano para que no me puedo mover.

“No no estoy pensando claramente, pero se que nos necesitamos ir ahora mismo porque nuestro padre fue el que mató a nuestra madre, no me crees, preguntale! Él me dijo, entonces nos necesitamos ir!” Mis ojos están llenos de agua, y no estoy nada segura en todo esto pero se que estaremos más seguras lo más lejos que podamos de mi padre.

Mi hermana deja mi brazo y empieza a empacar. Se que ahora entiende porque estoy haciendo esto. Cuando las dos estamos listas nos empezamos a salir de la casa. Todavía no está tan obscuro, pero el sol se está ocultando rápido. Ahora nos estamos moviendo con prisa por la calles. Caminamos por lo que se siente que son horas y ahora estamos lejos de nuestra casa. Todo está bien, no vemos nadie en las calles. De repente vemos un coche acercarse a nosotros, y agarró a mi hermana fuerte. El coche viejo se para enfrente de nosotros y cuando veo quien se baja del coche mi corazón se pone pesado.

“Maldita hija, estás tratando de escapar de mí!” Mi padre, se em-pieza a acercar a nosotros.

“Déjanos en paz!” Le grito fuerte y claro, pero solo se acerca más. Agarra a mi hermana y la empieza a jalar con toda su fuerza. Yo trato de detenerla pero mi padre es más fuerte que yo. La suelto en ac-cidente y me empuja fuerte al piso. Mi hermana está llorando y di-ciéndole a mi padre que la deje en paz pero solo está arrastrando la al coche. Agarró el cuchillo que estaba en mi mochila, y voy corriendo detras de mi padre antes que ponga a mi hermana en el coche. Le em-piezo a pegar con el puño de mi mano.

“¡Deja a mi hermana en paz!” Le gritó mientras le sigo pegando. Deja a mi hermana en paz pero se voltea y me empuja a otra vez al piso y mi cuchillo se cae de mi mano. Las manos de mi padre agarran mi cuello mientras yo trato de tragar el poco aire que puedo. Mi her-mana ahora esta arriba de mi padre tratando de parar lo. Mis manos encuentran el cuchillo que no estaba tan lejos, y le doy un cuchillazo en el estómago. Mi padre cae para atrás y es cuando me safo de sus

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The Road to Nowheremanos y agarro a mi hermana y mi mochila y nos vamos corriendo al coche de mi padre que dejó las llaves ahí. Las dos estamos llorando y no podemos creer lo que pasó.

Cuando estamos suficientemente lejos de donde dejamos a mi padre, volteo a ver a mi hermana y veo todas sus emociones.

“¿A los Estados Unidos?” Le pregunto porque no se que mas de-cir. Es demasiado pronto para hablar de lo que pasó.

“Ok, Vamos,” Me dice eso viendo a la ventana enfrente de nosotros mostrando a la plana calle que detiene nuestro futuro.

Empiezo el carro y sigo manejando más lejos de nuestra vieja vida. Por un segundo pienso que lo podemos lograr. Que podemos lle-gar a los Estados Unidos para empezar una nueva vida. Como cuando mis padres regresaron al El Salvador después de que mi padre fue de-portado. Ellos trataron de empezar una nueva vida, y lo hicieron pero no duró tanto. La nueva vida de mi hermana y yo durará. Tendremos la vida de nuestros sueños.

Los Sueños

Fehung Ly“Es mi culpa, es mi culpa, es mi culpa…” I start muttering to

myself, staring wide eyed at my bloodied hands. The blue and black bracelet I received from tío Diego now a mix of purple and black, stained from my sin. Never had I felt this much pain, regret, and sad-ness in my life. The rainy season thunderstorm starts to fall once again, the sky rumbling like the emotions in my heart. Hot tears streak down my cheeks, showing what little humanity I have remaining. I start to reflect on this journey, and ask myself whether it was worth it. Worth following my dreams, just to get to this outcome.

To begin this adventure we have to backtrack to August 23, 2015, at my tío Diego’s house. It started off as a humid and bright Sunday afternoon in El Salvador.

“Dinner will be done soon André, could you get the table ready?” tío Diego asks me.

“Yes, Tío, just a moment,” I reply, walking to the living room. The food, sizzling and crackling, echoes throughout the house. The aroma of lemon, pepper, garlic, and onions waft around the air, creat-ing a melody that would make anyones stomach growl in hunger. The small kitchen was the source of the aroma, with tío Diego cooking the meal.

Our house is a run down, one story building in the outskirts of El Salvador’s capital, San Salvador. Our home is not in spectacular con-dition by any means, the white paint is beginning to yellow and peel off the walls as well as the water and electricity cutting in and out ev-ery few days. Regardless of its flaws, it’s comfortable to me. It’s my home, it always has been and always will be. I pull out two sets of forks and knives, and place them on the table. Where we eat is not special by any means, a small round table with three stools is all we have; it’s all we need. Tio Diego brings out his creation. It was his specialty and my personal favorite, garlic lemon pepper fried fish.

“¡Se ve delicioso Tío!” I exclaim with a grin on my face. “¡Gracias André!” he responds back with a smile. As we eat, I

grab the remote and turn on our old, dysfunctional TV. Flipping

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The Road to Nowherethrough channels, I am greeted with the same daily programs I’ve been watching for the past three years. Weather forecasts, advertising, soap operas, and news. The news, almost solely focused on murder and gang violence. Last Tuesday’s death count of forty-three, the highest in history, is still the highlight of every news station. Fresh on the media and people’s minds. Many of the victims are just living nor-mal lives, accidentally finding themselves in gang territory and as a result, in the middle of violence. Gang violence has shaped the lives of everyone living here.

The killings coming from Mara Salvatrucha, also known as MS-13. Barrio 18, MS-13’s rival gang, and the police have made us nor-mal citizens live in fear for the past three years. Murder rates have skyrocketed and our country has been listed as the most violent coun-try in the world. One person gets murdered every hour here, a statistic nobody wants to be true.

“Tío, El Salvador is dying isn’t it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Si, our home, our country, it’s dying,” Tío responds with a pained expression on his face. As I turn off the television pondering my future, the food in front of me starts becoming less and less appe-tizing as each moment goes by. I prayed everyday that the headlines would change. Instead of covering the murders that occurred today, I hoped that the newscasters would talk about something positive, like more schools being built. Something that I can benefit from instead of being stuck in this endless cycle of despair.

“Let’s eat and not worry about it now. We can’t do anything about it, and there’s only so much we can worry about, right?” Tío says, trying to reason with me.

“Ok, let’s eat then!” I exclaim, eager to change the subject. Be-fore I could get another bite into my mouth, the door was slammed open like a raid from a movie. I jump out of my chair, panic setting in, and started dashing for my room. It’s not uncommon for gang members to break into homes demanding money. When it happens it’s every man for himself. Tío just stayed where he was, like he had all the time in the world. I wondered why he didn't move for a brief moment, then went back to worrying about my own safety.

“Who is it!?” I ask with a mix between a yelp and a shout. My body trembling from the adrenaline and fear setting into my body is making it hard to speak normally. I see one person at the door. A girl with short brown hair, with her hands in pockets, shows herself. A

very familiar face greets me. My panic starts to die down. “It’s me, Maria! André let's go to Los Estados Unidos and leave this country!”

“Maria!? Why did you open the door with that much force? You could have at least knocked, that scared me! And what do you mean about let’s go to Los Estados Unidos?” I rapidly ask.

“I’m not happy in this violence ridden country, André, it’s dying and I can’t follow my dreams being here. I mean do you really think we can both become some kind of biologist in this country?” The brown haired girl replies with the kind of look that says this should be common sense.

Maria is a childhood friend of mine. We both lost our parents to gang violence to the same incident when we were eight and ever since then we have been best friends. She shares the same dream as I do, which is to become a biologist of some kind. Since we became friends, we always shared anything related to biology, whether that was a book, magazine, or article. I’m usually the one borrowing from her though. We both want to become a biologist because when we were both nine we helped save a clutch of turtles from a stray dog that was about to eat them. Looking back it was not smart, however we both shared the same feeling of wanting to help the babies. Ever since then we got hooked, and that became our dream.

Most people in this country aren’t happy with how the country is right now. I can say that much in confidence. It’s also true that if you want to follow a dream then you should leave the country. However, the path to reaching Los Estados Unidos is one of extreme danger. Many die along the way or just get caught and get deported back to their home country. The legal routes to The United States are impossi-ble for most people, so we have to resort to smugglers, specifically human smugglers. Their job is to take people who have paid them to the customer's desired location, the most common one being Los Es-tados Unidos. This is the difficult part, because the smugglers demand a lot of money. Even then you may get a smuggler who will lead you to your death. There is no way to truly trust a smuggler, people smug-gling is merely their job and their regard to human life is numbed down from the average person. With many more reasons than I can list, to get a smuggler is a gamble, a bet with your life.

In the end I ask Maria to join us for dinner, with all of us needing to think about what just happened, and about what to do next. The ad-venture started that fateful day, August 23, 2015.

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The Road to NowhereThroughout the next few days Maria and I prepare for our jour-

ney to Los Estados Unidos. We first searched for a smuggler to take us, because without one the journey would be impossible. We both ask around the neighborhood if anyone knew a smuggler that we could contact. Most wouldn’t even answer us, hurrying away to their homes, thinking about their safety. I can’t blame them either, to them we look like stereotypical kids that could be in a gang. Even if some-one would answer us, they would reply with, “No, no sé.”

In the end I ask Tío if he knew anyone. Not expecting his answer, I was surprised by the fact that he knew a smuggler, let alone telling me the contact. Tío told me he tried leaving to Los Estados Unidos a long time ago, and got in contact with a smuggler. He wouldn’t say specifics, but from the sound of his tone, something went wrong dur-ing the trip he went on.

“Listen, I tried doing the same thing you're about to do. It didn’t work out for me, however, I believe that you two will be ok. Just al-ways listen to the smuggler, or you will die. The best I can do is pay the smuggler for your trip. So make it to the United States, I believe in you.”

He handed me a blue and black woven bracelet.“Para buena suerte,” he said. Tío hands me the homephone to

make the call. My hands start to shake a bit. He grips my hand with the phone reassuringly, to tell me that I need to do this if I have al-ready decided to. I dial the number.

I am greeted with a heavily altered voice saying, “¿Te puedo ayudar?”

“Si, estoy en busca de una contrabandista. He oído sí llamó este número yo puedo hablar a una contrabandista,” I reply.

“Yes, you called the right number,” the voice answers. I feel more pressure building up on my back. One step down, a

few more to go, I think to myself. “What is your price for two sixteen year olds, one guy one girl?”

I ask the smuggler. “Nuestro precios son muy bueno, ocho mil por los dos,” the

smuggler replies, sounding proud of his deal. “Es un trato contrabandista,” I hesitantly answer. I stare at tío Diego, mouthing the word, “ocho mil.” Tío nods as

his response. “Call me, Jose. Wait at the abandoned warehouse with the red

roof in two days at 4:30am. We will depart then. Bring whatever you

need to bring. We will only provide the bare necessities if needed. I expect the money to be in my hands before then.”

Before I could say anymore, the call was cut. It was done. We are now on our way to Los Estados Unidos.

The next two days were a blur. I told Maria the news that we got a smuggler who will take us to the US in two days. Tío put the money in Jose’s bank account. I got myself ready to travel. The packing was kept very simple. Clothes, spare food, and a book about El Salvador’s jungle is all I choose to bring. This book is important to me because it was one of the first books Tío bought for me. Preparing to leave wasn’t hard on me. The only attachments I had left in this country is Tío and Maria.

The day to leave came at an alarming pace. I was woken up by Tío, the clock reading 3:30am. One hour until we meet up with the smuggler known as Jose at our predetermined spot. I have a quick meal of pollo tamales, some leftover from yesterday. I grab my bag, take my time to say goodbye to Tío, and leave. I didn’t want to make it as painful for both of us, so I made the farewell as fast as I can.

The way to the abandoned warehouse was wet from the showers last night. The sky was still dark, the sun not risen yet. The air still and damp sticking to my skin. The surrounding was eerily silent, my footsteps making the only sounds. Pitter patter, I walked, towards a new journey. I fidget with the bracelet I got from Tío.

When I arrive at my destination, I’m greeted with a hug from the darkness. It was Maria, also coming earlier than the determined time. I hug Maria back in instinct. We hold each other in a strong embrace for what seems like an eternity. We were both a cluster of anxiety, needing to calm down. This was going to be the biggest change we will ever experience in our lives.

At exactly 4:30am, a white van pulled up in front of the aban-doned building. I assumed this was our smuggler. Sure enough, we were both greeted with a quiet, “Buenos dias. Get in.”

We grab our bags and hop into the back seats. The van starts driving.

“Mi nombre es Jose. ¿Cómo te llamas?” our smuggler asks non-chalantly.

“Mi nombre es André y mi amiga nombre es Maria, ” I respond, remembering this is his job. Nothing more and nothing less. I observe the smuggler in curiosity, because my life was essentially in his

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The Road to Nowherehands. He was an average height man, looking around his late 20’s early 30’s. He had short black hair and tan skin, typical of a Salvado-rian. He wore a plain, dark green t-shirt and jeans. Overall he looked like any other man in his late twenties to early thirties . It was smart really, no one would suspect him of smuggling if we are asked what we are doing in his car.

“The plan for now is to drive to Santa Ana, then leave the car and go by foot through the jungle to Guatemala. You have some time to sleep if you want. I’ll wake you two up when we get there,” Jose told us. Maria and I start to sleep through the rain, knowing this is merely the first part.

Like Jose promised, he woke us up when we got to Santa Ana, which was around an hour away from where we started. The rain stopped, and the sun was starting to show itself. The van was parked, this time in front of an abandoned house. Maria and I hop out the van, backpacks on, ready to tackle the first challenge.

A treacherous place many like us must travel through to follow their dreams. The warm, humid air sticking to your skin and clothes is its way of saying you are caught in its web. The damp, mossy floors and surrounding flora make it impossible to navigate without some-one experienced. The trees covered in green all look the same, with no way to distinguish which are different without practice. You get lost and you die. This is the jungle.

We walk through the seemingly never ending rows of trees. Jose, with machete in hand, was cutting through the brush. At this point, Maria and I know that we must follow this man, no matter what. There are many things that can make the journey harder than it needs to be, such as venomous snakes, border security, and the most danger-ous obstacle of them all, gangs. The two biggest gangs of El Salvador, MS-13 and Barrio 18, have acres of territory in the jungle they’ve claimed as theirs. One wrong misstep into their space and it's over. They do not take kindly to intruders of any kind.

We walk for what felt like a few hours until Jose allowed a quick break. At this pace I know we will be close to the Guatemalan border. El Salvador is a very small country, so there’s only so much ground to cover. Breaks usually consist of sitting down, eating a little bit, drink-ing water, and the bathroom if necessary. It doesn’t take longer than ten minutes, so we can move on faster. I also read my book I brought along during the break.

Throughout the walking, Maria and I played games to pass the time. One of them was to see who can spot the most amount of differ-ent species of plants and animals in the area. Maria usually challenges and loses to me in these games, knowing that I am just better at point-ing them out. She’s never beaten me since we were kids. She would always just laugh off the losses and say, “I’ll beat you next time!” In a way this was how we reassured that the journey was for our dream. To become biologists.

We stopped for another break. Jose informed us that we are close to the border, however since it’s still midday we have to take a differ-ent path from the usual. Or so we were told. Trusting his judgement, I didn’t think twice about it. He also told us since we are close to the border, there is bound to be border security. He scouted ahead, saying if something happens to just run to his voice.

All of a sudden, the silence was broken by the blasts of gunshots echoing through the jungle. I hear Jose yelling, “¡Su Mara Salva-trucha, correr!”

I grab Maria’s hand and our bags, and we start running. My heartbeat skyrockets, adrenaline pumping through my body. My legs, moving as fast as they possibly can, start to flare up in pain. Not look-ing back, I keep dashing to where I heard Jose’s voice. Without real-izing, I let go of Maria’s hand. Out of sheer terror or some other rea-son, I don’t remember. Time seems to slow down. I look back, and see Maria falling, blood stains on her shirt. I try to move, but my body won’t let me. Paralyzed in fear, I do the only thing that my mind will let me do. That is to watch, and to pray, wide eyed in horror. I hear more bullets make impact. I break my paralysis, and catch Maria. The last thing I hear her say was, “No es... tu culpa,” with a weak smile. Her eyes go glassy, body going limp. I scream.

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The Road to Nowhere

Estrella

Autrina Maroufi“¿Cuando somos nosotros partida el hogar Abril?” Caleb utters

as I tuck him in. Even after almost six years, I'm never sure where to call home. Is it the marble floored villa in El Salvador where I spent most of

my life, or the familiar two bedroom we had spent over a year in since we arrived in the US? I know where Caleb calls home. Every night, after we eat a small dinner and he finishes his homework, which con-sists of coloring and counting, I tuck him into his little bright red race car bed. This is the year I work double shifts while finishing my GED’s, to be able to afford the attempted replication of the room our mother made for him in El Salvador.

I normally respond to his repeated question with a simple, “Bue-nas noches Caleb, te amo mucho.”

Thinking about how much he understood then and what actually went on, I felt like something was dragging me down all those years, keeping him in the dark because of his age. I was so scared of how he would react to all this when he was older, but I knew that I was just doing what was going to benefit his future.

To this day, I still have not told him the truth about why we left El Salvador. He goes to school every day like any child would, any child that has not seen or spoken to his father in over 5 years, not knowing if he was alive or dead. Caleb never asks about his dad and never asks why we left. All he ever wanted to know was when we were going back. The questions stopped a few months ago, on his tenth birthday. We celebrated like we did every year, with a little cake and just me singing happy birthday. I always sang in the language most familiar to him.

“¡Cumpleaños feliz te deseamos a ti, cumpleaños Caleb cumpleaños feliz!”

Every year his eyes lit up with excitement as he blew out the can-dles and made his wish, and every year I looked forward to that night.

This year, at only his tenth birthday, still a child, I slowly watched the light in his eyes fade as he realized his wish wasn't going to come true, and we were never going back to El Salvador. It has

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The Road to Nowherebeen four months since that day, and I have wanted more than any-thing else to give him a life that he would love in the US. I always wanted to be able to provide for him in a way that he'll realize that the US is his new home, because we are never going back.

Days go by and I keep thinking about Caleb's birthday, and I wonder what it would have been like if I had come to the US with a college education. I'm eternally thankful for the DREAM Act. With-out it I would not have been able to work and provide for Caleb, and we would probably be going from shelter to shelter in search of a place to sleep. Because of it, I was able to get myself a few jobs here and there to support Caleb and myself for all these years. Everything that I want could easily be accomplished by a college education, and a green card. Two things that are not very easy to attain. Aside from achieving my own dreams, having a life supported by a college edu-cation I will pave the way for Caleb to do the same. I still want a col-lege education, and I still, after all these years want to work in jour-nalism just as I did as a child in El Salvador. My father never tried to shield me from knowing about the gangs as I have with Caleb. All he ever did was tell me, “No deje la casa por usted mismo.”

“Permanecer dentro por la noche y siempre que pueda.”“Sólo ir a la escuela.” I have always wanted to share with the world what living in the

midst of a gang war was like. Aside from the few reporters who were willing to risk their lives for shots of El Salvador's gang wars, there are few ways the world will understand what is going on. I have al-ways wanted to be one of those few.

I switch on the ancient laptop that Caleb and I share and start re-searching the most important thing in my world right now, our future in the US. With each click of the cursor a degree seems further and further away.

“Dios mío,” I whisper under my breath. Caleb walks into the room, backpack in hand, “Hey sis, can I use

the laptop?”Once he notices that I'm using it he strolls over to the tiny couch

and plops down next to me.“Watcha lookin at?” he asks, suddenly showing interest in what I

was doing.“Nada,” I say closing the laptop quickly. “Here you can use it

now.”

Looking slightly shocked he mutters a quick, “Ok, thanks?” as if asking a question. Then he leaves the room in silence. As much as I want to make college a reality and include Caleb in the journey, the last thing I want to do is get his hopes up and not be able to pay my way through college. After all, I do not even know the first thing about college or applying.

I walk into work the next day still thinking about college, UCLA specifically. It’s directly in between where I live and where I work, and I read that it has an amazing writing program. When I had gradu-ated High School, I was incredibly lucky to find a job as an assistant at a law firm in Los Angeles, because one of my father’s old contacts is a partner there. Soon after arriving at Withers, Stern, and Asso-ciates, I became close friends with another one of the assistants, Ka-tia. Katia immigrated here from Colombia when she was 4 years old with both of her parents. A tall and slender dark haired girl, her situa-tion is very different from mine, Katia was raised in a Spanish speak-ing home and grew up with Latin American culture. She makes work more enjoyable because I have someone around I can have a conver-sation with, in spanish too.

“¿Katia, qué sabe usted acerca de colegio?” my first of many questions.

“No mucho,” she replies as she writes an email,“¿Necesita ayuda con?”

Immediately regretting my question, I say a quick, “Nada,” and return to work.

She leans over the small half-wall dividing our desks and says,“¿Abril, Si necesitas ayuda me avisas. Esta bien?” with a con-cerned face.

A wave of gratitude washes over me as I realize what an amazing friend I have made. We spend the rest of the day exchanging office gossip and going about our work as we would do on any normal day.

As she walks me to the bus stop, Katia hugs me and says, “Yo no sepa mucho, pero conozco gente que lo hace.” I have never been more grateful for a friend in my life,

“Nos vemos mañana Abril.” She hugs me one more time, and leaves me standing there speechless as she walks to her car.

After the long commute home, I think about all that has gone on today and whether or not the people Katia knows will be able to help me with finding a way into college. A large concern is not being ac-

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The Road to Nowherecepted to college, on top of being worried about how I'll find a way to pay for my degree. Once I got home, I throw myself down on the run-down couch and immediately fall asleep.

I wake up from my nap to the sound of water boiling on the stove and Caleb breaking pieces of raw pasta. I start to think about how ma-ture he is, compared to any other ten year old. He’s always had to be able to take care of himself when I was at school or at work. I would come right home with him then leave almost immediately so I could go to work. Caleb had to stay with a neighbor from the age of six be-cause I couldn't afford to pay for a baby sitter. He would sit in Ms.Hudson’s home, color or watched cartoons until I came home to make him dinner. If I was working late, he would heat up some mi-crowave mac and cheese. Sometimes I wonder if he would have had a better childhood in El Salvador, or if his safety was worth dragging him out of his home.

Putting all those thoughts aside I get up to try and help him. “¿Caleb necesitas ayuda?” Without even looking up from stirring the pasta, “No, estoy

bien.”He finishes up and I tell him repeatedly what a great help he is.

He flashes me a smile and proceeds to fill me in on the events of his day as we eat. After dinner, Caleb finishes his homework and goes to bed. I stay up a little longer to wash the dishes then sit on the balcony and stare at the stars as I used to with my dad. What I love about the night sky is that it is the same even if you’re in a completely different country. Here in the US, I'm looking at the same sky that I used to look at every night in El Salvador. A wave of sadness washes over me as I start wondering if my dad is looking at them too. All of the prob-lems that my dad's work brought to us aside, he was an amazing fa-ther to all of us as I was growing up and I miss him a lot.

The next morning I nearly sprinted into the office. I had stayed up almost all night just thinking about what Katia was going to find out from her friend. I'm sitting at my desk, 30 minutes earlier than I would on a normal day, just scrolling up and down through my e-mails, all the while just watching the elevator doors, waiting for them to open and for Katia to come strolling in. Almost an hour and a half later, Katia runs in panting and sweaty.

After a long and complicated explanation of her car troubles, Ka-tia and I slowly then completely break into laughter as the whole

waiting room, full of nosey clients, proceeds to give us weird glances. But even as they stare, we keep laughing. I slowly started to forget about the brochures and that is the exact moment she decides to yank them out of her bag. One thing I love about Katia is that everything she does is full-force or she just does not do it. She pulls out a little hand bag with UCLA written on it in bold gold letters. I'm so excited that I just want to jump from behind my desk to hers and grab it. I al-ready know that I'll be up past midnight just reading through all those and that makes me even more excited. She hands me the bag and just advises me to choose carefully. I thank her a million times and then put it into my own bag. I'm so nervous to go home and read because what I find may disappoint me, but I’m also so excited because it could do the exact opposite.

After what felt like days, I get home and throw myself on my bed and begin to read. Some of the brochures seem pointless, but then there are a few that I put aside as the very important ones. There are two or three brochures that have ‘Financial Aid’ written on them in the gold UCLA font. I drop everything else immediately and start on those first. One of my biggest concerns was how I would be able to pay for it. I wasn't worried about getting in at this point. I took so many high school courses when I came to the US. I did not under-stand the credit system and I wasn't aware that students had college counselors available to them so I just signed up for anything and ev-erything I could fit into a day, Now after doing a lot of research and nearly perfecting my English, I have learned that what I took included many many AP courses. At the time I just thought that I was just tak-ing regular classes and that America had a higher standard of educa-tion. Those couple years I pushed myself to a point where a lot of the time I just thought I was going to collapse.

At this point I just want to be able to put those days behind me, but if I can put that torment to actual use, then you can be sure that is the first thing I'm going to do. I can't really be choosy with what col-lege I go to, I can't leave Los Angeles but I want a good education, so I begin to work on my application for UCLA. Once I get all of the simple things out of the way, which takes me about 10 minutes, I'm at a complete loss of what to do next. It is asking me for an essay and it gives me few prompts to go along with it. As I read through them they really begin to confuse me, so I decide to ask Katia if her dad’s friend can help me figure it out.

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The Road to Nowhere

Monday comes and I find myself rushing into the office again ea-ger to see Katia, once more for her father’s friend’s knowledge. I try not to immediately start talking about UCLA and my application in progress but I really just can't help myself. I start to tell her about ev-erything I learned over the weekend and what I had done to move for-ward with the application process, and how I had even looked into some hopeful scholarships and grants. All of this comes out in a flood of words leaving her with an amused and jarred look on her face. She starts to laugh and says

“¿Abril qué necesita?” as hostile a sentence as that seems, Katia somehow managed to make it sound caring, almost motherly. As my train of thought continues in that direction I'm reminded of my mother and my sister and a wave of sadness washes over me, as it strikes me again I’ll never see them again, no matter what kind of money or power my dad may have, he has no ability to bring them back to us. Pushing all those thoughts out of my head I turn to Katia and launch into my issue with the essay.

“¡Pero ni siquiera sé lo que significa Katia!” I realize I sound like I may burst into tears at any moment, so I take a breath and at-tempt to compose myself. I continue in English so that the rude clients in the waiting room will stop staring at me as if I'm part of a cheesy telenovela.

“I just don’t understand why they want me to write about, ‘How my past has affected who I am  today,’ where would I even start? I'm not sure if they even want to know about El Salvador! Would my dad's work force them to turn me down?”

Question after question come rushing out of me leaving Katia looking a little bit overwhelmed.

“Do you want me to take you to Monty’s?” she answers.“Who?” The name ‘Monty’ does not ring any bells.“That guy. My dad's friend!” she says, shocked I didn’t know.“Oh! Oh my god please do! I really need his help if I want to do

this right!”The week dragged on, each day feeling longer than the next, until

it was finally Friday night and I could not fall asleep. I stayed up for hours just thinking about all the different ways that tomorrow could go until almost 3 hours later I fell asleep. Waking up on Saturday was a mix of fear and exhilaration for me. Having spent hours thinking of how it could possibly go I was mostly over the fear part. But the ex-

hilaration didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. I know that ev-erything that you do impacts your future, but this impacts my future. As I run Caleb over to Ms.Hudson’s and jump in the car I feel as though I'm just shaking all over. The thrill of being so close yet so far was eating me from the inside out. Katia drove up ten minutes late as always and I threw myself into her car, instantly blurting out every-thing I was looking forward too. Not even giving a full response, Ka-tia who knows me so well, laughs as she pulls off the curb. A short fifteen minute drive later we show up at the front door of a large blue house with a red door. Everything nowadays seems to remind me of my childhood, but I just brush it off and go about my business. This house takes me way back to one of my earliest memories, when I was about five years old and my father my sister and I visited the US. I can’t remember why we went or who we went to see, but I know for a fact we came to this house. I know that the foyer has a large dark chandelier, and that the wall to your left is covered in stone, and the fact that I knew this brought all the fear crawling back into my mind, a small bit of it thinking that our visit had something to do with the Cartels. I look back at Katia walking up behind me with fear in my eyes, she gives me a confused look and says to me without stopping,

“C’mon hurry up he’s not that scary” and laughs as she keeps her pace and walks up to the door and knocks three times so hard I though the door might come down. But I guess that’s Katia, all or nothing. We wait at the door for a solid minute, maybe two, until the door slowly creaks open to reveal a short, balding, Latin American man in his late 50’s. It takes me a minute to register who I'm seeing, but after a long moment of standing there with my mouth open I let out a soft,

“Uncle Montay!?” When Katia said Montay I thought she meant Monty since she said it with an American accent. The last person I ever thought she’d be speaking of was my Mom’s brother Montague, who as far as I knew, died in his home in San Diego when I was 11. This was most definitely not one of the situations that ran through my head last night.

Montay looked at me long and hard before saying, “Adonia?” in a confused tone. The fact that he didn’t recognize me was a little bit disappointing, but also he confused me for my sister, who was the most beautiful girl on the planet so I wasn’t too upset.

“No, Uncle Montay. It’s me, Abril.” I’m not sure how long it’s been since the last time I saw him and I’m not sure he’ll remember

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The Road to Nowherewho I am. He stares at me for another minute and has the most con-fused look on his face. I can see the expression on his face go from confusion to a sudden bursting excitement.

Then he yells, “Abril! Abril! My little one!” He grabs me and hugs me like I was about to run away. I hug him back, excited to see a familiar face in the US. I turn around suddenly remembering Katia was standing there, looking as if a bar of gold just fell out of the sky, a little bit happy and a lot of confused. I start to introduce “Monty” to her, but as my uncle and not as her dad’s friend. After helping Katia to understand and getting my uncle to calm down by promising to an-swer his questions later, he begins to help me on my college essay. After the first hour of sitting there, Katia moves to the family room and watches TV. After the third or fourth hour of writing and critique and more writing and more critique, I figure it’s time to go get Caleb from Ms. Hudson’s. I begin to tell Uncle Montay I have to leave but when I tell him about Caleb he’s clearly confused.

“Who is Caleb? Do you have a son?” he says. His face shocked and disappointed. Then I realize that Uncle Montay’s last visit was a year and a half before Caleb’s birth, and he lost contact with my mother soon after so there’s no way he could’ve found out.

“No no no, uncle, Caleb is my brother! I don’t have any kids.”“Brother? You mean Maricella had another child?” “Yes, my mother had another child little over a year after I last

saw you.” Montay’s face turned a little to hurt as he said “Oh, well. When do I get to meet my only nephew?” I hadn’t

thought that he’d probably want to meet Caleb but now that was an obvious thought.

“Oh, um, tomorrow. I’ll bring him over tomorrow.” Not sure of how I’ll get here with Caleb. He is not about to wake up and walk half a mile to and from the bus stop.

As if she read my mind Katia chimes in,“And I’ll drive.” We say our goodbyes and part ways, my Uncle still in the dark

about why I’m in Los Angeles I start to feel uncomfortable about go-ing back and this time with Caleb. The one thing I was most definitely satisfied with today was the nearly finished essay my uncle and I had spent a straight 5 hours on. He advised me to write mostly about My life in El Salvador, just not revealing my father’s name. Though he said and I quote ‘Admissions officers just eat sad stuff straight up.’

Sunday, the drive to Uncle Montay’s was short and full of Caleb talking about all his friends at school and what he was going to do in

Ms. Anderson’s class the next day. Once we pull up to my uncle’s house he gets out of the car, conversation continuing, then introduces himself to his Uncle Montay. he proceeds to talk to him about Ms.An-derson’s then asks if he wants to play soccer. Uncle Montay, de-lighted to have finally have a boy in the family in his sea of nieces and sisters, is overjoyed at the opportunity. I take the chance to finish up my essay, and in another couple hours Montay is taking my appli-cation, looking it over, and telling he that he’ll submit it in person next week since I was two weeks ahead of the deadline.

Two weeks later, Uncle Montay informed me he had personally walked my application to the admissions office, and that he was so proud of me, as if I was his own child. After that, Caleb and I spent almost every weekend at Uncle Montay’s house. I felt that having ac-tual family that I was close to in the U.S. lifted an immense burden off of my shoulders. A couple months went by, and every day I was checking the mail myself looking for a letter of acceptance or denial. After a few months the day had finally come. I open our rickety mail-box for the millionth time, but this time instead of piles of advertise-ments, I pulled out a huge orange manilla envelope. Uncle Montay jumps out of his car and starts yelling, “Abril! You’re  in!”

“Uncle Montay, how do you know I haven’t even opened it?” I turn to my uncle extremely confused.

“They only send a package that big if you’re in.”Everything I had ever worked for and everything I had ever done.

From crossing the border, to getting my GED. Every ounce of effort I had ever put into anything in my life led up to this moment.

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Argentina

El Amor, El Fuego y La Muerte – Noah Shedrick..…………..159La Luz al Fin de la Vida – Andrew Duberek………………....169El Hombre con Perdón – Israel Zamora..………………….....179

With so many amazing stories to be told, we focus on three. We feel the anger of Xavier Vacio, a chaotic, troubled, and unorganized boy looking for a future that holds greater things than his present life. We look through the eyes of a pain stricken son, Franco, who con-stantly fights with his inner demons, and deals with the loss of his family. Lastly, we follow the footsteps of Leo, a victim of post-trau-matic stress searching to be at peace within himself.

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The Road to Nowhere

El Amor, El Fuego y La Muerte

Noah ShedrickOf course he was fine, why wouldn’t he be fine, he was fine. He

felt a warm liquid drip down from the temple of his forehead and wiped it down his face.

“I’m fine,” Xavier thought to himself. A mild white noise faded inward and outward, trickling chimes fell into a domino effect, and crickets began to chirp without an organized tempo. The thunder and lighting posted over the empty desert, shouting and screeching from the heavens above. Xavier hopelessly glanced up to the bright greyish sky and accidently stepped in a reddish mush. It had begun to drizzle, he limped along the broken dirt path with his right leg useless, his thigh dripping with thick blood.

“Was this the end?” he asked himself. “I thought they were my friends, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve this.”

He reached the end of the path that led down to a waterhole. A loud pop and snap ruptured from his kneecap and sent him falling to his knees screaming. He pulled back the hoodie of his soaked pancho and let the raindrops dance on the skin of his face. The dye from his pancho began to drip away with the water and into the reddish mud, as blood continued to rush down his face and leg. He leaned over and looked down into the muggy water, its surface pulsing with ripples as though the rain gave the water a heartbeat. He did not recognize him-self, his left eye swollen shut and black, his lip busted and his face smeared with blood. He heard footsteps treading behind him in the distance and grabbed the rosario around his neck to kiss the cross. He fell forward on his face. Mud, water and blood flowed around his body as he stared into the blur of grey and brown around him. He was exhausted, and felt like resting right in the middle of the storm. His eyes began to glaze over with death, and he felt the warm blood drip and sink into the dirt, each drop holding so much power, each drop holding a piece of his life. The white noise fading inward and outward became faint, the thunder became a distant horn, the rain became a comforting shower and the mud became a welcoming pillow, he knew this was the end. He took a deep breath, and just as he was about to give away, memories of the life he had once lived began flashing be-

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The Road to Nowherefore his eyes. The first flash begun, he felt the dense space around him become still. A dry, mumbling, monotone voice crawled and crept into the opening of his ears as he laid there. He could remember the first night, he could remember it all.

“Abre esta puerta ahora!  Abra la puerta de Xavier!” a raspy deep voice shouted.

The sound of uncontrollable anger and the thick smell of booze lingered through the seams under Xavier's wooden door. All he heard was muffled knocking and punches. The music in his earphones blast-ing at an almost unreasonably loud volume, he was unafraid. He sat stone cold with a blank-face on his bedroom floor. His back leaned against the feet of his bed, as he studied the colorful stencil he had painted onto his wall.

“¡No! Estoy tratando de dormir, sólo desaparece!”Xavier picked up one of the many empty plastic water bottles on

his floor, and threw it as hard as he could at the door. He heard his fa-ther's heavy footsteps slowly stomp away from the door of his room. He sighed deeply, knowing he’d have to deal with his father later. He stood up stretching his arms to his broken ceiling fan, and let out a gi-ant yawn feeling his bare feet ache against the cold wooden floor. It was 11:57 and he hadn’t slept for more than three hours each day for the past few days, but he didn't really mind the lack of rest. He never really understood the point of having more sleep. It made him feel like he was missing out on opportunities and experiences in his life. But maybe that was his insomnia talking, after all he always felt like he was in a dream, not really being awake but not really asleep. He walked over to his disorganized closet filled with dirty shoes, and grabbed a pair of worn out sneakers with weathered soles.His jean jacket that he had stolen a few months back was stained with different colors and metallic paints from his history of late night tagging, but he grabbed that too. He had grown a dark stubble under his cheekbones and chin, and his thick wooly hair hadn't been combed in.. well he didn’t really know how long it had been. But that was okay, he be-lieved his appearance showed character rather than what others might see as disorganization and chaos.

He gripped his warm hand around the cold doorknob and slowly turned. He pressed the side of his face against the wood listening for his father, but all he could hear was someone on the T.V. rambling on in a monotone voice. He opened the door and stepped into the cold dark hallway. He hated how cold his house would get at night. He

proceeded down the hallway planting his feet softly as he snuck into the dining room. His father was a giant of a man, sitting asleep in his couch chair holding a cheap can of beer in his left hand, and the bud of an unlit cigarette in his right. The monotone voice and faded sound from the T.V. kept his footsteps from making too much sound on the hardwood floor. He tip-toed over and managed to pinch the end of the cigarette out of his father's fingers, and he slipped it into the pocket of his jean jacket to save it for later.

He chuckled lightly from his success and trotted his way out of the dining room, past the kitchen and finally out of the front door. He didn’t care to lock it, knowing that he’d have to sneak back inside anyway. He skipped over the creaky porch stairs and hopped over the rusty fence permitting his bone dry lawn. The smoky scent of burning wood filled his nostrils and traveled in the midnight breeze. He walked below the flickering street lights and along the cracked side-walk. After a few minutes he reached the mart. A small bell rang on the door as he entered, and the fluorescent lights made that annoying whining sound he always hated. Without a thought, he swiftly walked straight to the last aisle, grabbed two bags of chips and a large bottle of soda, and walked up to the counter. He dropped the food and drink onto the dirty counter and stared up into the surveillance camera. His eyes switched back and forth between the camera feed and the camera itself. He never noticed how tall he looked on camera, he also noticed he really needed to comb his hair.

“Ahem, uh hello? Did you hear me...I said that’ll be $3.99, sir,” the small hairy man said as he looked over the counter at Xavier.

“Yeah-yeah I heard you, hold on,” Xavier replied as he pulled out the money and tossed it onto the counter. The man flenched and tilted his head a little, looking at Xavier with a surprised expression. Xavier rolled his eyes and straightened his eyebrows as he grabbed his food and walked out of the minimart. The bell rang behind him as he exited into the midnight air.

“Help! Someone please help,” a loud voice shouted from behind him.

Xavier immediately stopped and spun around, searching for the cry. He suddenly turned seeing a man being beaten to the ground with a baton by a police officer. Xavier immediately dropped everything and bolted over. He slung his right arm back as far as he could and lunged it forward into the temple of the officer's face. With one punch

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The Road to Nowherehe knocked the officer off of his feet and onto a brick wall, knocked unconscious the officer collapsed to the ground. Xavier retracted his arm slowly and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Oh god, that hurt...” Xavier said under his breath as he rubbed his bruised knuckles. He stumbled backward shaking his hand and looked to the floor only to see a man staring up at him with another shocked face.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that today,” Xavier thought to himself. The bloody man on the floor let out a deep sigh and broke eye contact.

“What's your name?” Xavier asked in a firm voice, rubbing his hand.

“Leo, my name is Leo, and by the way the officer started it. He told me to give him my wallet or else he’d arrest me, but I refused, and started mouthing off Galtieri and all of his police minions, aha. Thank you for saving me. You live down the street right? I live just a few blocks away.” He spat blood from his mouth and gingerly stood up.

“Yeah..I live down the block, I live next to Franco, I’m not sure if you know him but-”

Leo lit up hearing the name of his friend and interrupted him, “Oh yeah! I know Franco he’s co-”

“Don’t interrupt me, when I’m speaking,” Xavier snapped and shifted his stance and stood tall. His temper was suddenly tested and he felt a burning feeling grow within. His eye contact remained stronger than steel.

He continued to stare for a few seconds and then he finished, “Oh, and don't thank me by the way, this officer, and all the other AAA have been coming around here and harassing all of us for a while now. You just happened to come along and give me a reason to teach this guy a lesson aha, so really, thank you Lucas.” Xavier smiled sarcastically and raised his eyebrow.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh…yeah. Oh, my name’s, it’s, my name isn’t Lucas it’s Leo-”

“-Yeah whatever man,” Xavier interrupted him as he clenched and released his fist, not seeming to care anymore or even look up to make eye contact. He turned around and began to walk over to his spilled soda and bags of chips spread across the dirty street. He felt a warm liquid drip down the side of his ring finger, and realized he had cut his knuckle from the punch. He began to wipe it away with saliva

and his left thumb, he crinkled his nose from the awful of taste the metallic substance.

Suddenly there was a blur and the movement, the memory had ended. Xavier could taste the blood flowing down his eye and into the corner of his mouth. He felt his eyes twitch and focus. He could see the light in the sky fading away. The sun seemed to drift behind puffs of clouds miles away, yet he could feel the rays of light felt so close. For a moment the desert landscape around him became clear, but it suddenly unfocused again and Xavier felt warm. His body began to shift and relax into the reddish mud he calmly laid in, the light rain still falling softly onto the side of his face. He imagined he could feel the rays of light, the peaceful yellow rays of sunshine touching his skin.

Camille was the really the only one that could calm that chaotic, angry, unstable, untamable fire burning deep within his chest. She snapped her fingers as she twirled and skipped, humming words to a song that he didn't know, dancing freely and purposely walking crookedly. It was warm out today. The sun smiled wide across the open sky as they walked slowly through the wild tall grass in the canyon behind their neighborhood. Xavier chuckled lightly under his breath, and without warning he swept her off her moving feet and into his firm arms.

“You gotta teach me your moves, aha,” Xavier joked as he car-ried her up the hill. She rolled her eyes, and looked up into his, won-dering what sarcastic thing he would say next.

“I'm not sure you’re teachable. I just don't really think you got what it takes,” a giggle spilled from Camille’s mouth but it was caught quickly because she wanted to look serious. Her face held its smirk as she looked down into of the small hills and the greenery of the canyon, strongly avoiding his eye contact.

“Haha…dang, ok, so I’m carrying you up this hill right now and it's still like that, huh?” he said as he paused and raised his left eye-brow.

They both laughed in unity, his arms shifted and his grip tight-ened around her waist, he pulled her close and kissed her. They had reached the top of the tan hill on the other side of the canyon. He put her down onto her feet, broke off the end of a long strip of the beige grass, and then put it into the side of his mouth like it was a pipe. He stood in front of her slinging an imaginary rope, the sun shone bright

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The Road to Nowhereinto his face as he spoke in funny western accents like the Cowboys he had seen on T.V. She sat down still between the dry grass and laughed, watching him create new characters and personas out of thin air, she listened closely as he whispered important hints and catch phrases only those characters would say. Finally she would try and guess who he was reenacting, this game went on for some time.They had switched back and forth, taking turns sitting down in the tall grass while the other reenacted a colorful character. But by now the sun was headed straight for the horizon, and the sky had been covered with a thick blanket of clouds.

“Will you come with me, Xavier?” she asked as the sat on the ground.

“I’m not sure, look, I know that there are things out there that are better for us, I know that. But I can’t just leave, I mean, what about my father, what about my friends and what about all that I have here? What about Los gatos de la selva and what about protecting the peo-ple of Argentina? I haven't had many chances in my life to do good, but this, this is my chance to do what’s right for once.” He turned around and broke eye contact.

“Your father? Xavier, you know how you’ve been treated. I know how you feel, and I know that he’s your father, but he’s never been your dad, and that’s okay. I mean, I just don’t know, Los gatos de la selva...I get that you want to help these people in any way you can. I get that you have friends here, but think about Franco and Leo, you know they’re going to be leaving soon and you know that I’m going to be leaving even sooner. Think about your own future, think about OUR future. Think about all the possibilities and opportunities that lie in the United States. Will staying here really allow you to accomplish all the things that we know we can? Come with me Xavier.” Camille stood up and rested her right hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I just, I need time.” Xavier stepped forward allowing her hand to fall out of reach. He felt angry, but not the usual anger, the usual anger was a bright yellowish-orange, flickering uncontrollable fire. This fire was a dark indigo, dancing around in the core of his chest and damaging everything that he knew was good within him. This fire, this anger, it was an anger he could only feel towards himself. He continued standing away from her, staring into the fall and rise of the canyon. He counted all of the mistakes he had made in his life, and tallied up all the opportunities he had to change them but hadn’t. He felt the fire grow. Camille saw this and knew the face he made when

he was upset, she sighed and walked up to meet him at his side. She turned her face and kissed his cheek, but for some reason he could not smile. He ignored the dryness of his eyes and continued staring for-ward without even a blink. She knew he needed time to think, so she smiled sincerely and grabbed his hand.

“Take all the time you need,” she said in a soft voice.Camille released his hand and turned around. She took a deep

breath and walked back down and out of the canyon, heading back to-wards her home.

Xavier felt every limb on his body become 20 pounds heavier. He felt a strong, gravitational force pulling him to the dirt ground, but he couldn't fall, he was distracted and preoccupied. All that he could do was question, wonder, and worry with meaningless “what if’s” and “but’s”. The unbearable weight of two worlds sat on the shoulders of his distressed jean jacket. On his left sat his family, his home, and his people, and on his right sat his girlfriend, his friends, and his future? ‘What am I supposed to do?’ he thought to himself. Xavier stood in the canyon, a blank expression stretched across his face and a lifeless stare pinned into the pupils of his eyes. He was conflicted, and could hear the echos of both sides of himself arguing.

“Last time you checked I wasn’t put in charge? Oh, hm, that’s re-ally funny, because last time I checked you weren’t crap. In fact, last time I checked, I was the one having to save you from being beaten and robbed by some low life dirty cop. Last time I checked, you were the punk who was too scared to even come on this trip in the first place. So don’t tell me what you think, or even how you feel about me, because dude, if I’m being completely honest, you’re irrelevant. Leo, the only reason Franco and I decided to even bring you along was because you’re kind of good with directions haha.”

Xavier stepped forward with both of his hands clenched, a small wood-burning fire held the only space separating himself from Leo. It was getting later, and Xavier, Franco, and Leo had been walking for a couple of days now with very little sleep, but Xavier was not tired. The sun had begun to fade away into the greyish white of the broken clouds, he felt alert and he was ready to swing at any moment. Leo stood on the other side of the fire, his arms at his side as he tried to mimic Xavier's bold stance, but he could only feel his eyes tearing up. Xavier chuckled loudly at the sight. Franco sat on a large but flat rock

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The Road to Nowherebehind Leo, he leaned forward eating a candy bar and extended his arm as he saw the troubling situation.

“Leo, ignore him man, this isn’t a good idea, just sit down.” Franco said as he finished his bar and threw the wrapper into the bushes.

“Yeah, Leo, why don’t you sit down.” Xavier smirked and teased.

“Shut up!” Leo screamed in frustration.“Xavier that's enough, Leo just ignor-”“It’s enough when I say it's enough.” Xavier interrupted Franco.“Look, you both can argue all you want, but it wont fix anything.

We’ve been traveling for days now, don’t let this argument ruin things. Why don’t you guys go blow off some steam and get some firewood. I’ll stay back and try to keep this fire going.” Franco sug-gested.

“Yeah whatever…” Xavier took a deep sigh, unclenched his fist, and began walking around the fire and past the camp area.

He bumped into Leo in his path and kept walking forward. Simi-larly, Leo took a deep breath, and walked behind him in the same di-rection. Xavier took lead the way down a dirt path sprouting with dry bushes and twigs. They each began grabbing dry branches and sticks that they found.

“Next time, you should really just sit down. You’re lucky Franco was there to save you.” Xavier smirked and teased.

“Xavier, just shut up, honestly.”Xavier stopped and turned around, his smile became wider as he

saw Leo become frustrated. He reached out and pushed his shoulder back.

“Come on man I’m just playing with you.” Xavier said in a sar-castic tone.

“Don't push me, stop touch me,” Leo snapped at Xavier. “Or else what, are you going to start crying?” Xavier chuckled

and pushed Leo’s shoulder back again.Leo felt something change within himself, for the first time in a

long time he felt a burst of anger flow throughout him. His right arm quickly began to sling back, but Xavier saw this. He immediately leaned left to dodge his fist, but he was too slow. Xavier watched as Leo’s arm grew closer to his eye. In one movement Leo had jabbed and clipped Xavier's eye. Xavier grunted in pain and fell hard to his right knee, damaging his knee cap.

Leo clenched and released his hand. He turned his face to say something sarcastic thing to Xavier, but before any words could es-cape his mouth, he felt a devastating blow smack straight into his gut, a punch that sent him off his feet and into a stumble. Xavier began to stand on his other leg and fought not to fall, but he could not find bal-ance. He instead was sent flying back towards the floor as Leo ran over and pushed him. He had slipped backwards. A loud crack rang throughout his ears and inside his skull as his temple smashed into a large stone. His vision became blurry, the bright fire dancing before him became a smeared orange, and Franco’s and Leo’s yelling be-came nothing but a faint whisper in the space around him. His body became numb as he froze in shock.

“What did I do? I’m... oh my God. Xavier I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't mean to, I just-”. Leo said as he stood there, his eyes wide and his eyebrows slanted up-ward.

Leo suddenly rushed over to help Xavier get up. Xavier laid still, his eyes stared forward into a blank, unknown space. But then he sud-denly spoke.

“Ged-, get off of me, get off I can't help myself.” Xavier snapped out of shock but still felt the empty space around him. He stood to his feet using Franco’s shoulder and pushed away from Leo’s direction.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I was just so upset that I-.” Leo began.

“Just shut up, it was a lucky punch, just wait until next time haha,” Xavier jokingly said.

Leo looked at him confused, knowing Xavier never ‘joked.’ They could sense something was wrong.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Leo asked.“Dude I’m fine, back off, I just need a little air.”Xavier brushed past him, he held the side of his temple, and felt a

large wound that had opened. He slowly began to walk away from the gathering sight, exiting the area they had pulled branches and twigs from. He left Leo in the dstance staring behind him.

Of course he was fine, why wouldn’t he be fine, he was fine. He felt a warm liquid drip down from the temple of his forehead and wiped it down his face.

“I’m fine,” Xavier thought to himself. A mild white noise faded inward and outward, trickling chimes fell into a domino effect, and

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The Road to Nowherecrickets began to chirp without an organized tempo, and lighting posted over the empty desert, shouting and screeching from the heav-ens above. Xavier hopelessly glanced up to the bright greyish sky and accidently stepped in a reddish mush. It had begun to drizzle, he limped along the broken dirt path with his right leg useless, his thigh dripping with thick blood.

“Was this the end?” he asked himself, “I thought they were my friends, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve this.”

He reached the end of the path that led down to a waterhole. A loud pop and snap ruptured from his kneecap and sent him falling to his knees screaming. He pulled back the hoodie of his soaked pancho and let the raindrops dance on the skin of his face. The dye from his pancho began to drip away with the water and into the reddish mud, as blood continued to rush down his face and leg. He leaned over and looked down into the muggy water, its surface pulsing with ripples as though the rain gave the water a heartbeat. He did not recognize him-self, his left eye swollen shut and black, his lip busted and his face smeared with blood. He heard the footsteps of Franco treading behind him in the distance and grabbed the rosario around his neck to kiss the cross. He fell forward on his face. Mud, water and blood flowed around his body as he stared into the blur of grey and brown around him. He was exhausted, and felt like resting right in the middle of the storm. His eyes began to glaze over with death, and he felt the warm blood drip and sink into the dirt, each drop holding so much power, each drop holding a piece of his life. The white noise fading inward and outward became faint, the thunder became a distant horn, the rain became a comforting shower and the mud became a welcoming pil-low, he knew this was the end. He took a deep breath, realizing that he had remembered the first night, remember it all. He felt his heart tug, and the fire suddenly go out in his chest, he was right, this was his end.

La Luz al Fin de la Vida

Andrew Duberek“Franco ven, el desayuno está listo,” his mother said.  Franco

took a deep breath and felt a warm and comforting smell of a fresh batch of Fainá in the air. He opened his eyes to the two wooden cross-beams which held up the ceiling, and sat up yawning loudly. He pressed his feet onto the cold wooden floor and stood up. Franco walked out of his room and down a narrow hallway towards the kitchen. He entered the kitchen to see his little brother and Dad at the table, and his mother standing in the kitchen. As Franco pulled a chair out, he heard a knock. He walked towards the door. He felt time around him begin to slow down, as Franco approached the door he felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Franco twisted the doorknob slowly but was pushed back by a group of armed, masked men. They came charging through the door, punching Franco in the face. Franco’s eyes faded as he fell to the ground, and then he felt a heavy force on his back while his wrists were bound by some type of adhesive material. Franco tried to open his eye but only saw a red blur. He heard a lot of commotion within the room, and the men put him and his family at gunpoint.

“Toma a todos excepto al niño,” said one man. “Si, senor,” the other men replied. They left as fast as they came

in. As Franco laid on the floor he started to squirm around to find a way to get out of the binding. In their hurriedness, the men had failed to secure the binding tightly. He ripped off the homemade cuffs and rushed to the door. He stepped out, into a deep dark hole, Franco looked up and saw a small beam of light in the distance. He tried to reach for the light but fell farther and farther.

○○○

The door slammed open with a whoosh of smelly musk rushing out the door as light shined in the dark living room.

“Wow, que basuredo,” Leo said as he entered. He noticed a crooked family portrait over the couch. He looked away and held his

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The Road to Nowhereeyes trying to prevent the tears from dripping down his cheeks.  Leo was brought back to reality by Franco’s yelling.

“¡No te los lleves tengo tu dinero, por favor no los lastimes!”Leo rushed into the room as Franco leapt from his bed and into a

corner, constantly saying, “Please don’t hurt me.”“Don’t worry, Franco, it's just me, Leo.”Franco lifted his head up to reveal eyes rushing out tears like a

river. Franco quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, acting as if noth-ing had happened.

“I’m fine. What are you doing here?  You scared the hell out of me?”

“You told me to come over so we can meet up with Xavier. Be-sides, what happen to you?” said Leo.

“Es nada.”“¿Estas seguro? Porque estabas llorado mucho.”“Si, no te preocupes.”“Ok a que ir.”“Oh dame un segundo.”Ever so slowly Franco got up and put on his favorite light blue

striped soccer jersey that he got from his father. He slipped on his worn out shoes and walked out the door to meet Leo holding a ciga-rette.

Franco and Leo walked down streets riddled with the Argentinian military patrolling the neighborhood for ERP or the Los Montoneros supporters. Very carefully they walked across town trying not to raise suspicion to either forces. It was getting dark as they turned into a small alley.

“So where is Xavier?” Leo stuttered.“He said to meet over here,” said Franco.Leo looked around in the dark alley, “M..m..maybe he’s running

late?”Franco replies, “I don’t know.”“Well it's getting dark and you know how I hate the dark,” said

Leo as he tensed up. Franco paused while looking deep into the alley as if something

was not right. He felt a chill going down his spine and told Leo to keep quiet.

Leo looked up to Franco, “No tu callate.”A dark figure came out from the back of the alley. The hairs on

the back of Leo’s neck stood up. Franco looked at Leo, still as a

statue. Franco walked towards the dark figure and with a sturdy voice said, “Xavier, eres tu?”

The shadowy figure didn’t answer.“ S...Si vamos hombre para de jugar, ”Leo trembled.“What are you two doing here in my alley?” the dark figured

replied ominously.“We’re just meeting a friend.” said Franco, walking towards the

man.The man paused and said “So that’s your friend.....”Leo looked back at Franco, “What are you talking about?”The man took a step back, “He tried picking a fight with me, and

I...I...killed him.”Franco clenched his fist, “What? Y..y..ou killed him?”The man fell down to the ground laughing,“Sorry, guys, I had to

mess with you.”Franco unclenched his fist,“What?”The man came out of the shadows, “It's me, Xavier.”“That was not funny man you nearly gave me a heart attack,”

Leo said, masking the fear in his voice.Xavier laughed, “Oh yeah, by the way, Leo, you remember that

alley over there?”“Yeah, why?”“You were getting beat up pretty badly until I helped you.”“Yeah I know,” said Leo.“You still owe me a favor.”Franco grew impatient, “Come on, we are here for a reason, re-

member? So are you going with us or not?”“What are you talking about?” said Xavier.“Remember how Franco and I were thinking about leaving this

place and going to America.” said Leo.“Oh yeah, I don’t know if I should because I still have a family

here,” said Xavier.“What about your girl? Didn’t she leave already?” said Franco.Xavier looked to the ground, “But my family.”“We are leaving tomorrow, so if you want to come with us you

have to make up your mind.” said Franco.Xavier looked pensive, “Can you give me the day to think about

it?”“Sure, but once you decide call me.” said Franco.

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The Road to Nowhere“’ll tell you by tomorrow,” Xavier replied.Franco smiled, “I hope you make the right decision.”Xavier looked down, “Yeah, I hope so too.”

Franco and Leo stopped at an intersection that separated their houses. They looked at each other and bid their goodbyes, and headed into their houses. Franco walked into his house only to see all the trash that had accumulated in his livingroom. He looked at it with ut-ter disgust, quickly grabbing a bag. Gradually, the room started re-turned to normal. Once he was done he looked around and started to cry, “Me duele mucho quedarme aquí, todo lo que he hecho con ellos, ahora se fueron” he looks up to the ceiling and say “¿Porque me causas mucho dolor? When can I just be in peace?”

Flopping onto his bed, he cried himself to sleep, “It's been six weeks since everyone went missing. Why did they have to take them? ¿Porque….porque a mi? ¿Porque me los quitaron de mi?

The next morning he woke to the glaring the sun. He wiped the dried drool on the side of his mouth and walked to the kitchen. He opened the door and felt a slight cold breeze. Staring into a void of nothingness, he closed the fridge and walked to a cabinet, pulling out a box of cereal. As Franco ate his cereal the phone rang.

“Franco, is that you?” Xavier said.“Yeah, so what are you going to do?” asked Franco.“I thought a lot and I want to go to America with you guys,” said

Xavier.“Really?” Franco said in an excited tone.“Yeah, I want to find a better life where it's safe and I want to see

my girl again,” Xavier said with enthusiasm.“What about your family?” Franco replied.“I told my family and they said that I’m an adult and that I

should do what would be best for me,” said Xavier.“Meet Leo and I on the edge of town near the train tracks at dawn

tomorrow,” said Franco.Franco hung up packed for the trip. Clothes, food, water, a map,

a knife, a rosary, and a picture to remind him that his family was watching over him while he embarked on the dangerous journey.

The next morning the boys met at the edge of town. They fol-lowed a well worn dirt path into the jungle, the echo of birds chirping filled the air as trees dripped morning dew. They followed the trail to

a creek that had a little spring, where the boys filled their canteens. Once they filled the canteens, the boys followed the creek to the train station.

They climbed aboard the caboose of the train as it departed, watching the world rush under their feet. By day they took the train and by night they camped next to the rail road.

Franco warned that there would be a lot of gangs and trafficking once they hit the rainforest. On the second day they saw some suspi-cious men next to the tracks but didn’t worried since they were on the train. By night they were setting up camp when they heard rustling emanating from the tree line.

“What was that?” Leo said as he looked in the direction of the sound’s origins.

“It could be a panther that’s coming to eat us.” Xavier joked.“Xavier, shut up you're only scaring Leo,”  Franco said with a

demanding voice.“I’m just messing around with him,” said Xavier.Leo angrily looked at Xavier, “Shut up, Xavier.”“Oh stop whining, Leo, I’m only joking,” Xavier responded

smugly.“Xavier, I said shut up!” Franco said furiously.Xavier turned his attention towards Franco, “Hey, Franco, who

put you in charge?”Franco sat up broadening his shoulders, “I said shut it, Xavier.”An annoyed Xavier stood up, “You know what, I’m the leader

now.”Franco walked towards Xavier, “I’m the one who set this trip up

so I’m the leader.”“Well you’re bad at leading so I’m going to be in charge from

now on, ”Xavier said arrogantly.A man emerged from the tree line, “You’re on my land, so I’m

the leader.”“Uhh..uh Who is that?” Leo said nervously.“Soy parte de él FARC y queremos a huestes para nuestro mili-

tar.”Franco chuckled, “That is kind of you to offer that, but we are

trying to get to America.”“This isn’t an offer.” He looked behind him, “Ganare lo.”

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The Road to NowhereA group of soldiers came out of the shadows on to the train

tracks. Franco and the two boys grabbed their stuff and ran into the forest. Eventually, they reached a clearing in the jungle, and as they looked at each other, they saw blood dripping from their arms caused by running into the branches. They all took a deep breath, exhausted from their exertion.

“Now what are we going to do?” Leo said.Franco put his hands on his knees and gasped for air, “I don’t

know.”Xavier leaned next to a tree, “We should just run further into the

jungle.”“No, because that means that we might not even find the train

tracks again,” said Franco.“I think we should ditch the train and go on foot,” Xavier said

catching his breath.Leo looked up at the two, “That's a stupid plan.”A bothered Xavier looked at Leo, “I don’t see you coming up

with any other plan!”Franco looked behind them to hear the group of soldiers in the

distance. “Keep your voices down they might hear us.”“You keep it down!” Xavier snapped.Leo looked into the jungle, “Hey, guys, shut up. I hear voices in

the jungle.”All three of them jumped into a little ditch and tried to cover

themselves with big leaves.“Now what are we going to do?” Xavier whispered, as he poked

his head up from the ditch.“Well we’ll have to just wait them out,” Franco said quietly.Xavier hissed at Franco, “So we’ll have to just sit here?”

Dawn came and the boys didn’t manage to get any sleep that night for the fear of getting caught off guard. They headed towards the direction of the train track, walking quietly along a dirt path that cut through the dense jungle.

Leo heard a voice and stared at the direction in which the voice came from. Leo quietly got Franco’s attention,“I hear voices up ahead.”

“Wait they might be near the train tracks,” Xavier said.A glimmer of hope filled the eyes of Leo. Leo vociferously said,

“Well let’s go.”

Xavier gave Leo a dirty look.Leo bafflingly said, “What did I do?”“Run!!”The boys made a break for the train tracks. They ran a dozen

yards before the group of men pursued them.Leo said franticly, “There's no train. They're going to catch us.”Franco looked back to see a group of men closing in on them. He

panicked trying to think what to do, but just as all hope seemed lost he saw the train coming towards them.

The boys started to run as fast as they could next to the tracks. The train was next to them and Xavier and Franco jumped onto the train but Leo was lagging behind. The FARC were closing in. Xavier rushed over to the next carriage, “Leo grab my hand.”

Leo reached and grabbed onto Xavier’s hand.Leo astonished, “Wow, that was close.... thanks Xavier.”Xavier glanced at Leo with a dirty look, “Why did you yell? Why

can’t you just keep your mouth shut. If you didn’t yell we could have slipped away easily.”

Leo looked down with sadness, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to...”Franco rushed over, “Are you guys ok?”Xavier passed Leo nudging him in the shoulder, ignoring Franco,

and climbed to the top of the carriage.

○○○

The boys took a deep breath and felt relieved to see the a rusted and bullet riddled sign saying ‘MEXICO’. Franco pulled out a stained, crumpled, torn and soggy map out of his bag. Franco looked at the map to find a path toward the boys’ freedom but was confronted by their biggest challenge, the Rio Grande.

The boys hopped onto the next train that took them near the Rio Grande. The train entered a small rocky valley filled with nothing but despair and silence. The boys moved to the caboose.

“Once the train turns that corner we will jump off the back,” Franco shouted.

The boys heard a loud screech as the train sharply turned. They threw their bags off the train onto the tracks behind them and one by one the three jumped. The boys stumbled and rolled onto the hard gravel in between the tracks.

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The Road to Nowhere“¿Estan bien?” Leo said.“Come on I want to get to the Rio Grande by night.” said Xavier.

The boys entered desert in the summer heat, and found a well used animal path heading towards the Rio Grande.

The boys walked through the desert as vultures circled above them, Franco grabbed his canteen and noticed an unsettling light feel-ing. He unscrewed the cap and pressed his dry lips on the metal ring. To Franco’s disbelief the canteen was empty.

“Do you have any water?” Franco asks Xavier.“I only have a little bit.” Xavier tossed the canteen to Franco. As

Franco lifted the canteen he felt a pang of guilt. Taking a tiny sip, he handed it back to Xavier, “Finish it.”

The day slowly passed as the boys walked in the desert. Leo no-ticed dark clouds in the distance and warns the others. Xavier looked at the cloud, “Come on we have find some shelter from the rain.”

“What rain they're just clouds,” Leo replied naively.“Xavier’s right, we have to find shelter there's going to be rain”

said Franco.“How can you tell?” said Leo.“Are you stupid? You can easily tell that it's going to rain just by

looking at the clouds,” said Xavier.Franco looked at Xavier. “Don’t do that. We’re almost there.

Judging by the map if we camp somewhere right now we would only have to walk 2 miles until we get to the river.”

The boys found an indent within the valley side. Franco was able to make a fire while Leo and Xavier went to gather supplies to build a shelter.

“Why are you so harsh on me? Leo asked Xavier.Xavier angrily looked at Leo. “Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve

been nothing but a disappointment. Be a man for once and stand up for yourself”

“What do you mean, I do stand up for myself” said Leo.As the two boys argued a strong gust of wind blew through the

valley while a daunting shadow moved in over them. “No you don’t, you just stand there while Franco defends you,” said Xavier

Leo gripped his hands into a fist as his face turned red.“Come on, dude, for once just stand up for yourself....like the

first time we meet I had to save your butt from the policeman that was beating you up,” said Xavier.

Violent cold rain started to fall, “How can you be so weak? Grow up.”

A lightning bolt ripped through the sky as Leo yelled, “You know what? I’m twice the man you will ever be.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You think you can compare yourself to me and Franco? Time after time in this trip Franco and I had to save you, and I’m sick of it!”

Leo clenched his fist and punched Xavier in the face. Xavier stumbled back, feeling a drip of blood on his nose. He wiped the blood and punched Leo in the stomach. Leo fell to his knees.

“So you finally strike out. That’s ridiculous.” Xavier turned around and started to walk away, “You will never learn will you?”

Leo snapped and charged at Xavier. He pushed him with all his strength. Xavier slipped and hit his head on a sharp piece of rock.

“How’s that? Is that what you wanted? For me to stand up to you?” said Leo.

Xavier slowly got up, his head bleeding. Xavier slowly walked away holding his head, “You will never learn.”

Leo left Xavier and headed back to camp.

Franco sat by the fire, waiting for Leo and Xavier to return. Leo stumbled into camp cold, wet and shivering.

“Where’s Xavier?” Franco asked worryingly.“I hope he dies out there”“What did you do, Leo?”Leo didn’t reply and just stared at the fire while holding his

rosary.“Stay here I'm going to go look for Xavier,” Franco said. He is

pushed around by the wind and hammered by the rain as he searched for his friend. He walked in the storm frantically looking for Xavier. yelling his name, but the thrashing winds made it hard to hear. Franco walked for ten minutes with no luck, but as he turned to head back to camp he saw a bright color from the corner of his eye. He took a cou-ple steps but stopped in his tracks, noticing that Xavier’s shirt was the same color

Franco slowly walked towards the color to see Xavier laying on his stomach. Franco rushed over to find Xavier cold and pale with blood leaking out of his head. Franco grabbed Xavier’s shoulders,

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The Road to Nowhereshaking erratically, “Wake up, wake up we are almost there. After all the stuff we’ve been through you can’t give up,” said Franco.

Franco put Xavier’s arm over his shoulder and struggled towards camp. Franco and Xavier made it to back to the camp drenched with rain. Franco put Xavier down near the fire and sat next to Leo.

Leo looked at Xavier, “Is he fine?”“I don’t know, Leo” Franco responded.Franco moved next to Xavier, placing his head on Xavier’s chest

to find a pulse. He heard nothing. Franco sat up, staring at the fire. There was a long period of silence. Franco looked at Leo with a cold emotionless stare, “He’s dead.”

Leo looked at Xavier’s lifeless corpse and began to cry. Leo stood up and moved towards Xavier, shaking him, “Wake up, Xavier, wake up. Don’t give up on us now.”

He backed up and curled up into a ball. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry.”

The two fell asleep as the fire burned throughout the night. The two boys woke up at the crack of dawn and looked at Xavier's body.

“We have to bury him,” Franco said remorsely.The two boys grabbed Xavier and his bag, and walked up to a

hill with an extraordinary view of the Rio Grande. They placed Xavier on top of the hill. They grabbed the bag and took out the pic-tures, They put the picture of Xavier’s girlfriend and family in his hands and started to cover his body with rocks. The two placed his bag next to him and a wooden cross on top of the burial spot. The two walked back to camp and gathered their stuff. They left the camp and headed to the Rio Grande. They never said. When they reached the Rio Grande, they felt a strange mix of relief and immense sadness.

Franco looked at Leo, “We just have to swim across this and we are in America.”

El Hombre con Perdón

Israel ZamoraUna luz me pega. Mis ojos toman tiempo para ajustarse. Mis ma-

nos están amarradas con una cuerda amarilla. Volteo mi cabeza y miro a mi madre inconsciente. Mi padre en sus rodillas, sangre go-teando de su cara.

“Por favor dejen a mi hijo,” rogó mi padre.El hombre miró a mi padre en los ojos con una mirada fría. El

hombre era alto con la piel dorada. Tiene una camisa rota y su cara con manchas de tierra que han estado ahí por semanas. Sus botas ne-gras son de hule.

“¡Leo!” Franco me gritó. Estaba confundido. Moví mi cabeza de lado a lado para asegurar mi bienestar.

“Leo, estaba hablando contigo y de repente perdí contacto. ¿De qué estabas pensando?” preguntó Franco.

“No, nada,” dije rápidamente.Franco me miró con una mirada de confusión.“¿Estás listo?” interrogó Franco.Había un momento de silencio.“¡Es domingo!” gritó.“Vamos ir a la iglesia.”Caminamos afuera y el carro de Franco me cachó el ojo. Con un

color fuerte, similar al cielo de la noche. Me subí al asiento del pasa-jero y el carro rugió. Miré afuera de la ventana para ver cómo los ár-boles se alejaban.

“¿Por qué tan serio?” Franco dijo con curiosidad.“Franco, por un tiempo he tenido recuerdos de lo que pasó en Ar-

gentina. No puedo dormir. Tengo pesadillas.”“Leo, tienes que olvidar eso, han pasado veinte años. No puedes

cambiar el pasado,” dijo Franco.“¡Pero no puedo olvidar la muerte de Xavier, fue mi culpa!” gritó

Leo.Una lágrima bajó de su cara.“No digas eso, Leo,” Franco dijo para consolar a su amigo.De repente una gota de agua chocó con la ventana y siguió otra y

otra hasta que un fuego rápido de lluvia les atacó. Llegamos a la igle-

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The Road to Nowheresia. Corrimos para protegernos de la lluvia. Cuando entramos estaba silencioso como si alguien se murió. Caminamos y el único ruido que se podía oír eran mis zapatos de vestir golpeando el piso de madera. Nos acercamos al hombre que me podría ayudar. El hombre en la cruz.

Me puse de rodillas y pedí perdón. Le dije cada detalle, descri-biendo ese día como si fuera ayer.

“No era mi intención matar a Xavier. Era un accidente, no mire esa roca en el suelo. Solo eramos niños. Recuerdo la emoción en su cara y la manera como me golpeaba,” le dije en mi mente. Cada golpe reflejaba el odio hacia su padre.

“Por favor ayúdame,” dije.Franco estaba sentado en una de las bancas con sus manos cruza-

das. Pensando que tenía que ayudar a Leo.La noche ha llegado. Brinqué en la cama y me sumergí. Volteé

mi cabeza y mi esposa me miró con curiosidad. “¿Cómo estuvo tu día?” preguntó Amelia. “Umm, normal,” Leo balbució. Amelia me miró con su ceja an-

gulada para arriba. Tuve una sensación que mi corazón paró. La últi-ma persona que puede saber de mi problema es ella. Me interrogó de nuevo. Volteé mi cuerpo al otro lado para evitar más preguntas. Podía sentir que Amelia sospechaba algo.

El sonido de la puerta me levantó. Miré al lado de la cama, estaba frío y vacío. Abrí las cortinas y el sol atacó mis ojos con su luz bri-llante. En un instante recordé el mismo recuerdo cuando estaba ha-blando con Franco ayer. Bajé por las escaleras para ver quien vino. Entré en una etapa de confusión porque miré Amelia y Franco toman-do café.

Pregunté, “¿Qué está pasando?”  Me miraron al mismo tiempo como si mi presencia era extraño.

Le pregunté a Franco que estaba haciendo aquí y se quedó callado. Amelia me explicó que miró algo raro conmigo y decidió preguntarle a Franco.

Franco estaba cansado de mirarme sufrir y quería que Amelia su-piera del problema. Franco empezó a explicarme lo que estaban ha-blando y como me pueden ayudar. Franco propuso que regresemos a Argentina.

Rápidamente le contesté, “¡¿Por qué?!”Sentí mis cuerdas vocales traquetear con la fuerza de mi grito. “Por favor déjanos ayudarte,” rogó Amelia.

Furioso con la oferta, con mi actitud de niño chiquito fui a mi cuarto. Me senté en una de las sillas y busqué en mi cajón por un ro-sario de metal. Lo sostuve en mis manos analizándolo y recuperando recuerdos. De repente recordé las gotas de agua que interrumpían mi pelea con Xavier. En la pelea recordé el rosario colgando de su pecho. En nuestro viaje para los Estados Unidos tengo recuerdos de cuando estuve sobre el tren. Xavier miraba su rosario como si fuera un tesoro. Un día en la tarde, Xavier se quitó su rosario y momentos luego se asustó porque no lo pudo encontrar por ningún lado, cuando estaba en su bolsillo. Sacó el rosario de su bolsillo y lo besó.

Unos minutos luego oí alguien caminar hacia mi cuarto. Asu-miendo que era mi esposa, caminé hacia la ventana y me puse el rosa-rio, sintiendo una emoción que no podía explicar. Recogí un vaso de agua que estaba sobre los cajones.

“¿No vas a responder?” una voz familiar habló.Volteé mi cuerpo para confrontar la persona. Mis manos se con-

gelaron y el vaso de agua se cayó y se destrozó.“Eres tú,” dije, todavía no podiendo creer lo que estaba pasado.Clavé mis ojos en el. El cuerpo de un hombre muerto. Xavier.

Con mis propios ojos estaba mirando al mismo Xavier de hace 20 años.

“¿Cómo te atreves guardar mi rosario como un trofeo?” con emo-ciones de él profundamente.

“¡Mi familia nunca supo si llegué a los Estados Unidos!” gritó Xavier.

Yo solo empecé a rogar por perdón y repetí con los ojos cerrados porque no pude seguir mirándolo.

Oí una voz que no parecía ser Xavier. Abrí mis ojos y enfrente de mi estaba Amelia y Franco, tratando de comprender que está pasando. Amelia analizó el cuarto y miró la razón porque vino. El vaso de agua, estaba hecho pedazos. El piso de madera estaba cubierto de vi-drio y agua. Miré mi reflexión en el agua y supe que tenía que cam-biar algo. Respondí la pregunta que dejé sin respuesta.

“Franco vamos a hacerlo, hay que volver para atrás a Argentina,” con rastros de duda en mi voz.

○○○

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The Road to NowhereLa mañana llegó y Franco compró los boletos para nuestro viaje.

El vuelo es para las once de la mañana. Mi esposa me ayudó empacar lo necesario para el viaje.

Le pregunté a mi esposa por la 20 vez, “¿Nos puedes acompañar en este viaje?”

“Lo siento pero es mejor si tú y Franco enfrenten esto solos,” dijo Amelia.

Entiendo su razón y giro mi cabeza para abajo y miro el rosario. “Lo siento que no era completamente honesto de mi pasado,”

dije.Amelia no respondió. Solamente empacó mi ropa. Busqué por el

rosario y no lo encontré en ningún lado. Le pregunté a Amelia si sabía dónde estaba el rosario. Me dijo que está en el cajón donde siempre lo dejo. Revolví el cajón con frustración y seguí para el siguiente cajón. El rosario estaba perdido. No puedo ir a Argentina sin el rosario de Xavier. Momentos luego el cuarto estaba boca abajo.

Amelia vino al cuarto para saber si estaba listo para irme al aero-puerto. Miró el piso y estaba cubierto con ropa.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?”“No puedo encontrar el rosario.” “¿Esté?” preguntó Amelia con un suspiro.El rosario de metal estaba colgando de sus manos blancas. Algo

dentro de mí brincó de alegría.“¿Por qué es tan importante?” cuestionó Amelia.Mientras tome el rosario de sus manos. Le confesé a Amelia.“Esto es el último objeto que tengo de Xavier,” dije con tristeza.Sin hesitación Amelia me abrazó. Me tomó por sorpresa. No nos

habíamos abrazado por meses. Sentí su cabeza en mi pecho y su pelo causando cosquillas en mi brazo.

De repente recordé una memoria que nunca supe que tenía. Era de una mujer y me está abrazando. ¿Creo que la conozco? Su cabello es rubio y su piel es blanca. Se voltea y empieza a hablar pero no cap-turo ninguna de las palabras que está diciendo porque estoy con la boca abierta. Es mi madre.

“¿Estás listo para el aeropuerto, Leo?” preguntó Amelia.La memoria se desvaneció. Con el rosario en mi mano dije, “Sí.”

○○○

El tiempo estaba rodando. Franco y yo estamos arrastrando las maletas por el aeropuerto. Franco concentrado con el guía en una mano y su maleta en la otra. Nos paramos para mirar los vuelos en el monitor. Nuestro vuelo no estaba en el monitor. Unos minutos luego oímos una mujer decir algo por el altavoz.

“Passengers now boarding flight to Buenos Aires in Section B18”. No entendí nada pero la voz de la muchacha era suave. Lo bue-no que Franco aprendió inglés y me tradujo lo que dijo. Localizamos la puerta para nuestro vuelo. Corrimos y entramos a buscar nuestros asientos. Momentos luego el avión despegó para Argentina.   

Muchas horas después sentí las llantas del avión pegar la pista. Nos bajamos del avión para explorar la ciudad. Llamamos a un taxi. Pusimos nuestras maletas en la cajuela. Franco le balbució algo al ta-xista pero no lo caché. Asumí que le dijo nuestro destino. El taxista miró que yo estaba asombrado con la ciudad.

“¿Uh, so…que los trae a Buenos Aires?” preguntó el taxista con curiosidad.

Hicimos contacto por el retrovisor. Sus ojos eran azules como el mar.

“Solo visitando,” respondió Franco.En el camino a nuestra objetivo mis ojos están pegados en la ven-

tana. No puedo creer que esta es la misma ciudad en que yo crecí. Nunca hubiera pensado que Argentina podría recuperarse después de la guerra. Parece que la guerra sucia nunca pasó. Volteé a mirar a Franco para ver su reacción. Podía notar que no lo creía.

El taxi paró completamente en un vecindario. Salimos del taxi y caminé en medio de la calle. Reconozco esa casa y es parque. Hice una media voltea y no pude creer lo que estaba enfrente de mí. Mi casa. Tenía el mismo árbol y las paredes tenían el mismo color azul. Franco estaba al lado de mí con nuestras maletas.

“Uhh…¿me van a pagar?” dijo el taxista.Franco fue a darle su dinero.Caminó hacia mí después de tener una conversación con el taxis-

ta.“¿Ahora qué?” pregunté.Franco dijo que quería que hable con una persona. Caminamos en

la banqueta o lo que queda de ella. La banqueta estaba sucia con tierra y piezas que faltan. Estaba observando el barrio. Las casas tienen tro-zos de madera como reemplazo. Estamos tomando los últimos pasos

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The Road to Nowherepara la calle. Tomamos una derecha y paramos. Era la casa de Xavier. Suspiré porque sé lo que tengo que hacer. Caminamos sin decir una palabra. Esta caminata se sintió como una eternidad. Cada paso que tomo lo más nervioso me pongo. Llegamos a la puerta. Espero a que Franco toque la puerta pero supe que mejor si yo lo hago.

La puerta se abrió. En el otro lado de la puerta estaba un hombre. El hombre parecía estar en sus sesentas. Estaba sentado en una silla de rodas.

“Hola,” dijo el hombre con trabajo.“Hola,” dijimos en unísono.Explicamos que estamos buscando un hombre por el nombre de

Carlos. El hombre dijo que él es esa persona. Nos invitó en su casa para platicar.

Empezamos con una pregunta, “¿Recuerda a su hijo, Xavier?”La expresión en su cara cambió en un instante.Respondió rápidamente y dijo, “Sí. Un día durante la guerra sucia

Xavier no apareció. Dejó una nota en su cuarto que había escrito. De-cía que fue en busca para una mejor vida en los Estados Unidos.”

“Si, señor. El nos acompañó en nuestro viaje para los Estados Unidos,” respondí.

En nuestro viaje para los Estados Unidos Xavier y yo tuvimos un problema.

“Era un accidente se lo juro,” le dije con mis ojos llorosos.Estábamos en el desierto de México cruzando para Tejas. La no-

che estaba fría y la lluvia caía duro. Xavier empezó a discutir conmi-go y la pelea empezó con un empuje. Lo que no sabíamos era que en pocos momentos Xavier se iba a tropezar y morir al caer sobre una roca. Franco y yo miramos como la sangre derramaba de su cabeza.

“¿Por qué ahora, por qué venir a decirme esto cuando pasó hace 20 años?” reclamó Carlos.

“Nunca pude despedirme de mi hijo. No mentiré, el y yo nunca tuvimos la misma relación desde que su madre murió,” dijo Carlos.

Franco solo observaba como Carlos me culpaba.“Solo si tenía un recuerdo de él,” dijo Carlos.Me paré de mi silla y busqué en mi bolsillo por el rosario. Puse

mi mano enfrente con el rosario en ella. Carlos agarró el rosario de mi mano y se lo puso. Cuando se puso sentí que podía respirar por la pri-mera vez en años.

○○○

Estábamos en el taxi de nuevo. Franco le dijo al taxista una loca-ción. Esta vez sí logré escucharlo pero no supe donde era. Les tomó quince minutos para llegar a la locación. Miré por la ventana y era una iglesia grande y blanca. Caminamos dentro de la iglesia. La igle-sia estaba silenciosa y cada vez que tomaba un paso resonaba de las paredes. Franco tomó un asiento en unas de las bancas. Me arrodillé enfrente de el hombre en la cruz y le dije “Gracias.”

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The Road to Nowhere

Argentina

Los Niños Perdidos – Elyse Waterhouse………………….......189Las Desgracias de Guerra – Ricardo Angel Loeza…………..193El Híbrido – Kobe Manguil…………………………..……….203

In this collection of short stories, authors Ricardo Loeza, Kobe Manguil, and Elyse Waterhouse bring awe-inspiring historical fiction stories to life. We find the stories of three very distinct characters, all tied to Argentina, all of them dreading the dangers of the Dirty War. Discussing duty versus morality, the fear of growing up, the departure of a beloved home, and the dread of the unknown, these three invigo-rating stories tell of an obscure and unknown past.

By the 1970’s, Argentina was in the midst of a huge political cri-sis, as citizens became victims of immoral actions such as kidnap-pings and torturings. During that decade, protagonists Mauro, Alisa, and Dante take their chances on a quest for a better life elsewhere. Along the way they face many obstacles such as racism, kidnappings of loved ones, and the unknown.

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The Road to Nowhere

Los Niños Perdidos

Elyse Waterhouse“Despertar de su tiempo a la escuela.” Alisa’s daughter, Mia, struggles to wake up. Mia turns around to

look at her mom and then rolls over and falls back to sleep. Unaware of Mia going back to sleep, Alisa begins rapidly slicing fruit for Mia in a hurry to get to school. She grabs a container out of the cabinet and throws the freshly sliced food in it for Mia’s breakfast. Realizing Mia hasn’t appeared, Alisa begins making her way over to Mia’s room again.

“It’s time to get up, Mia!” Alisa shouts, “It’s 7:30am, you're go-ing to be late.” Mia slowly rolls out of bed, standing up to walk over to her closet. As she is walking back down the stairs, Alisa hears the thump of Mia stumbling into the bathroom to brush her teeth, proba-bly still half-asleep. Alisa heads out to the front yard and realizes the plants need to be watered so she heads over to the hose and fills up a watering can. As the watering can is filled she heads over to the plants and starts watering them.

Alisa heads inside and  shouts up the stairs, “It’s time to go Mia. It’s 8:00am and now you will definitely be late.”

Alisa walks Mia to the end of the street, and gives her a big hug and a kiss goodbye. She watches her walk another block down then make a right, and the moment she’s out of sight she begins to pray she gets to school safely.

While Mia is walking to school something doesn’t seem right. The streets are empty, there’s no one for as far as Mia  can see. Mia turns around and suddenly, a man, in the uniform of the Argentinian military  jumps out of a parked van and grabs her by the arm. Mia is screaming  as loud as  her  lungs will allow her to, until suddenly there’s a cloth on her face and she falles into a deep sleep.  

Hours later Alisa sits on the couch and lets out a deep sigh. It had been a long day of house and yard work. Alisa looks at the clock to see what time it is. The clock has just hit 3:00pm, the time Mia is nor-mally back from school. Alisa is sitting in the living room waiting for Mia to arrive. She waits there anxiously while the clock keeps ticking. Alisa starts to panic and gets up and starts running down the streets.

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The Road to NowhereEverytime she takes a step she feels her heart drop.  She wanders up and down the streets of Buenos Aires. She starts knocking on people’s doors showing pictures of Mia, saying, “Has visto mi hija.”

There has been no evidence of Mia. After hours of looking for her, Alisa goes home.  She sits herself down on the couch and begins to sob in agony, she can only wonder what had happened to her daughter.

The next morning she wakes up and searches again for her miss-ing daughter. While searching the streets of Argentina, asking passers-by if they have seen her daughter, Alisa comes across a group of women.  

“Have you seen this young girl? She is my daughter and she went missing yesterday.”

“No we haven't,” one of the older and more grandmotherly of the group responds, “But we are searching for our children as well, you are welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, yes I will join.” They wander the streets, the grand-motherly woman, called Maria, tells Alisa about their group called the Madres de Plaza de Mayo. They are a group of women whose chil-dren or grandchildren have been kidnapped.

Maria says to Alisa, “We are starting a protest you should come!” Seeing Alisa’s confusion, Maria explains further, “It’s the govern-ment, they are the ones taking our children.”

Alisa joins the protest and hunts for answers of where their chil-dren have gone. As the group of women march down the streets of Buenos Aires, they protest to find their children. They come across an Argentine soldier who looks suspicious. They thought maybe he would have answers to where the children have gone.

One of the madres went up to ask, “¿Has visto mis hijos?”   The soldier doesn’t respond. Alisa goes up to him and starts cry-

ing, saying, ”Por favor díganos si usted ha visto nuestros hijos nue-stros hijos por favor.”

The soldier still doesn’t respond, so the madres keep walking down the streets, looking for clues or answers as to where their kids have gone.

“It's getting late,” someone says.“We can't stop looking until we find answers!” Alisa responds.

Alisa and the madres keep walking the streets, she was determined to find her daughter. Looking up and down and asking people for any

clues. While Alisa was asking questions to a nearby townsperson, she didn’t noticed that she had taken a wrong turn and was separated from the group. She comes across a group of soldiers. They were tall and intimidating and all standing with guns in their hands. She knew that she needed to ask them in order to get the answers she wanted.

She starts to cry asking, “Por favor me ayude.”The soldiers don’t do anything to help except tell her she needs to

leave before something happens to her. Alisa leaves and looks for the madres. She hears them chanting and follows the sound of their voices. She finally catches back up to them and tells them what hap-pened.

“Creo que los soldados esconden respuestas,” The madres want to go back to them to see if they will give them answers, but she’s afraid that they will take them as well. They choose not to go back and to keep walking.

“It’s getting dark out, we should head home. We will meet back here in the morning,” one of the madres says. After hours of searching for Mia, Alisa decides to go home. She  falls on to the  couch, too tired to even cry. She thinks of all the possible ideas of what she could do to find Mia.  

The next morning, Alisa gets up and goes out to look. She goes and sets out by herself without the group. Alisa is determined to find Mia. Alisa is walking down the main road of Buenos Aires and she comes across a  group of unkempt soldiers. They were just lounging on the curb with holes in their uniforms and their weapons were just lying around the street. She  realizes this group of soldiers didn’t seem the part. Alisa walks over to ask about Mia.   Alisa goes up to one of the soldiers and she asks him, “Has visto a mi hija que fue tomada hace aproximadamente una semana”

The soldiers respond by describing what she looks like. Small, brown hair, brown eyes. Excitedly, Alisa shouts, “Yes, yes that’s her!”

Alisa pulls out a picture of Mia and shows the soldier.   He looks at her and points down the hill in a small jungle. The soldier turns to look at her and says she’s down there. She starts running down the hill to where she was directed, There stands another soldier. He goes up to her and draws his gun.

Alisa says to the soldier, “me envió aquí abajo.”He draws his gun back and says, “What are you here for?”She goes up to him and says, “To find my daughter!

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The Road to NowhereShe has been missing for a week now and I have had not a clue of

where she has gone. He asks her how did you find this place? She re-sponds by saying the soldier at the top of the hill sent me down here he said that my daughter is down here. The soldier says to go down this pathway turn right and continue walking until you find them. Al-isa starts walking down the dark pathway. As she is walking she passes kids who have died. She starts to get  worried as she continues walking and sees more kids body’s on the floor. She gets so worried and starts thinking, ‘Could one of these be Mia?.

As she walks down the dark path she starts to hear voices of chil-dren playing. She comes around the corner and sees all these children. She scans the children to see if she can find Mia. She looks and finds her. They both lay eyes on each other as Alisa looks at her and bursts into tears. Mia starts running towards her.

Mia gave her a big hug Alisa doesn’t let go she looks at her and says, “tu seguro.”

Mia asks her can we leave? Alisa looks at her and says of course let’s go. They start walking back to where Alisa began. The soldier looks at her and says you found her! They kept walking to go home. Alisa tells Mia we are leaving we are going to America It’s too dangerous here. Alisa walk to the plaza where the other moms are. She tells them where she found Mia. The mom’s were so happy she found Mia but at the same time sad that none of their  children had been found. Alisa and Mia head home. Alisa sits down with Mia and describes to her why they are leaving to head to America. She tells Mia that it’s going to be a better lifestyle and that it’s safer to live there.

Las Desgracias de Guerra

Ricardo Angel Loeza“Mauro, es hora de irnos. Estas listo?”“Si ‘ma.”La verdad es que no estuve nada preparado. En el piso de mi

cuarto se encontraban unas mochilas. Había una negra que le pertenece a mi mamá, y otra que tiene el escudo de mi equipo de fút-bol, la Factoría del Boca. Es dificil creer que este momento ha lle-gado. Si me dijeras hace un año que iba a tener que dejar mi casa lu-josa, con todo el espacio que un niño podría desear, pensaría que estás loco. Nunca en mis 11 años de edad, pensaría que mi vida iba a cam-biar de manera tan drástica.

“Entonces hay que irnos, ‘mijo. Que no se te olviden las mochi-las.”

“Si, ya se,” murmure. Me levanté de mi cama, con el ocurrim-iento que esto seria la ultima vez que estaria acostado sobre ella. In-specte el cuarto. Estaba hecho un desastre. Shorts, calcetines, botellas de agua, y playeras plagaban el piso marrón. Con una despedida en si-lencio, salí de mi cuarto con las mochilas en mi mano izquierdo.

Baje las escaleras que conectan el piso de mi cuarto y el de mi mamá con la cocina. Sentada en una sofá en la sala, se encontraba mi madre. Después de los hechos de los últimos meses, su belleza ha desvanecido con la apariencia de ojeras.

“Bueno, pues ya hay que empezar a irnos que se nos hace tarde. Pasame mi mochila, por favor,” dijo mi madre.

“No, está bien ma’, puedo llevarme los dos yo solito,” le con-teste.

“Hay Mauro, no seas asi. Pero bueno, si no me quieres pasar la bolsa, hay quédatelo tú .”

Yo iba ser el que se llevaba las bolsas. Cuando mi papá nos dejó, yo me convertí en el hombre de la casa. Un dia, voy a recuperar a mi papá. Pero por lo mientras, no voy a dejar que mi mamá cargue nada.

Fije mis ojos en el alrededor de la sala, admirando lo por lo que podría ser la última vez. Me pregunté si quizás algún día podríamos regresar de nuevo, y volver a vivir con mi hermana y padre. Es in-justo, porque tenía que pasar esta maldita Guerra Sucia? Apreté mi

190

The Road to Nowheremano con toda la fuerza que tenía, y con el señalamiento de mi mamá, salimos de mi casa por la última ocasión.

○○○

“Oye, mamá, ya hay que parar un poco, andale.”“Porque, qué tienes,” preguntó mi madre.Con mi voz llena de vergüenza y mi vista fijado en el piso, con-

teste, “Es que ya me canse de caminar.”“Ay mi’jo, eso te pasa por cargar las dos bolsas,” dijo con una

sonrisa. “Andale, dame las dos por un rato y podemos tomar turnos, sale?”

“Está bien,” murmuré, y le pase las dos mochilas. “Supongo que tienes razon, deberiamos descansar para recuperar

energía.”Al oír eso, me tire al piso, agotado después de todo el recorrido

por el bosque que pasaron.  No tenía manera de calcular cuanto tiempo caminamos, pero calculé que pasaron unas 3 o 4 horas. Acostado en la tierra, me di cuenta de que estuve sudando un poco. La humedad de mi piel se pegó sobre las hojas y tierra que se encontraba en el piso. Mis manos estirados y debajo mi cabeza, traté de mirar el cielo. De pronto me di cuenta de que estaba bloqueado por los árboles que me rodeaban. Mi casa, como la extraño. Cuando mi hermana se fue a Uruguay, le mandamos dinero para comprar un terreno allá. Pero no va ser igual a él de nosotros, en donde nuestra familia había vivido por tantos años.

Mi madre dijo, “Ten Mauro, toma una empanada. Mira, es tu  fa-vorito, con carne, jamón, y papá.”

Al escuchar eso, me levante de enseguida. No lo habia notado, pero tenía bastante hambre.

Tome una mordida de la empanada. Estuvo un poco frío, pero aun con todo el rico sabor que he llegado a esperar de la comida de mi madre. Pero, aun asi, no logre a disfrutar la sabrosura de la empanada.

Después de un largo silencio, mi mamá me preguntó, “Qué tienes hijo?”

Regrese a verla. Sus ojos avellanos conectaron con los míos, y voltee mi cabeza con caución.

Mi voz distante, dije, “nada mamá.”“Mauro, dime la verdad. Tienes una cara muy pensativa, nunca

tienes una cara asi. Siempre te la pasas con una sonrisota.”

No quería darle más preocupaciones a mi mamá, pero no me pude contener.

“Es que estoy bien preocupado ‘ma. Desde ... lo que paso... he tratado de ser valiente. He tratado de tomar su lugar, pero no puedo. Quiero ser el hombre de la casa, pero,” y en ese momento una lágrima rozo mi cachete, ”Solo soy un niño, mamá.”

En una voz delicada, mi mamá dijo, “Mi’jo, tú no tienes que tomar el plazo de tú  padre. Yo soy el que está aquí para cuidarte, no al rev-”

Cualquier esfuerzo que hacía para contener mi lagrimas desvaneció.

“Pero es injusto mamá! Los dos hemos perdido tanto, tiene que ver alguien que te cuide a ti! Mi papá siempre dijo que el hombre en la casa tiene que proteger a las damas. Pero.. a la misma vez.. No se si lo puedo hacer ‘ma.”

“Hijo, tú  solo eres un niño, tú  no tie-Ahora empecé a gritar. “Ya se que solo soy un niño mamá! Y por

eso me preocupo, tengo miedo que no soy suficientemente maduro para poder protegerte. Pero tengo que protegerte ‘ma,” mi voz ahora casi indistinguible por el terremoto que causaron mis lágrimas,” porque usted es mi madre y la única persona que me queda. Marta y mi papá nos han dejado, y no te puedo dejar ir. Pero cómo voy a poder? Solo tengo 11 años, quien me va a cuidar a mi?!”

Con una voz que casi era inescuchable, mi madre dijo, “No, Mauro. Ven aqui”

Al principio, no quise. Pero un momento después, no pude con-tenerme y me apoye contra el cuerpo esbelto de mi madre.

“Mira Mauro, te agradezco mucho por hacer todo ese esfuerzo para cuidarme. Durante las últimas semanas, he notado que has madu-rado, y me preguntaba porqué. Pero, al mismo tiempo sospechaba que era por lo que pasó. Pero mira, yo estoy aquí para cuidarte. Como tú bien lo has dicho, tú eres un niño, y un niño que estoy muy orgulloso de. El hecho que tratas tan duro para protegerme, eso me hace tan fe-liz.”

Ahora tambien a mi madre le salían lágrimas. “Pero hay que tener algo en claro. Yo soy tú  mamá, y es mi de-

ber y deseo de cuidarte a ti. Entiendo que me quieres proteger, pero no te preocupes, siempre voy a estar a tú lado.”

Y luego me agarro la mano.

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The Road to Nowhere“Siempre, sale Mauro?” “Esta bien ‘ma. Yo entiendo.”“Bueno, entonces apurate a comer que tenemos que seguir cami-

nando.”

○○○

“Mamá. mamá!”No contestaba. Mire hacia mi alrededor. Por mas que intente, no

pude encontrar a nadie con toda la oscuridad. Quizás me imagine los ruidos, a lo mejor era un sueño. De repente:

CLAC! CLAC! CLAC!Definitivamente no era un sueño. Eso me parecia como los pasos

amortiguados de una persona. Tomé a mi mamá entre mis manos y la empecé a agitar.

“mamá, contestame!”“Uf... que pasa..,” dijo mi madre, su voz plagada con sueño. “Creo que hay alguien aquí con nosotros,” susurre. En ese momento, mi mamá despertó completamente. Mi madre

me hizo una seña para que pegue mi oído contra sus labios. “Mauro, escúchame bien. Tenemos que salir de aquí, parece que

nuestro escondite fue descubierto. Tenemos que irnos ahorita. Enten-dido?”

“Si, mamá.”“Bien entonces, agarra tú  mochila, pero muy despacio. Cuando

los dos tenemos nuestras bolsas, vamos a correr con todas nuestras ganas. Hazlo como en tú s partidos de fútbol, sale?”

“Esta bien”Estire la mano para agarrar mi bolsa de la forma más casual que

pude, y mi madre hizo lo mismo. Mi frente lloraba lágrimas de sudor. En algún momento hasta llegué a pensar que el tipo iba a escuchar los golpes de mi corazón. Había tensión en el viento que jalaba el pelo de mi mamá. Mire hacia donde escuche las voces. Después de un tiempo que se sintió como horas, hice contacto con los ojos avellanos de mi madre. Saltamos del piso y corrimos.

“OIGAN! Quedan se parados ahí mismo. No se muevan!”“Sigue corriendo, Mauro. No escuches nada!”Ahora que estuvimos corriendo, logre a notar que no solo había

una persona detrás de nosotros, si no dos.

“¡Alto! Nosotros somos de el ejército de Argentina. Paren en frente de la ley,” dijo otra voz, esta mas aguda que la última.

“mamá, qué hacemos,” exclame, mis ojos tan abiertos que tenía miedo de que iban a explotar. Ellos eran adultos por lo que yo podía distinguir, y entrenados por el ejército. Como íbamos a escapar, espe-cialmente con toda esta oscuridad?

Mi mamá al parecer presintió lo que estuve pensando, porque dijo, “No te preocupes. Aunque nosotros no podemos ver, ellos tampo-”

PUM!“Mamá!”Que paso? Mi mamá ya no esta a lado de mi. De una manera se

cayo. No puede ser!“mamá, en donde estas? No te veo!”“Ah... Hijo vete, ahorita te alcanzo.”Un soldado gritó, “Ahí están! Vamos!”“NO! mamá, donde estas, para te por favor. Toma mi mano!“Mauro!”Rayos!, era la voz de mi mamá y parecía que se alejaba de mi. Mi

mente en paralysis, me di cuenta de que los soldados se la llevaron. No podía mover mi cuerpo.

“Mauro, toma esto!”Algo cayó en la tierra en frente de mi con un PUM! Eso no me

importó. Vamos Mauro, tienes que mover tus piernas! Maldicion! Fi-nalmente mi cuerpo reaccionó y empeze a correr con más ganas que nunca.

“mamá!”“No, Mauro. Llevate las cosas y vete con tú  hermana!”“NO!” Segui corriendo. Mis manos frenéticamente pedaleaban

como nunca habían hecho. Pero de repente:BUMMe tropecé con una raíz de un árbol. Sentí el sabor metálico de

mi sangre en mi boca. Un líquido caliente rozaba mis rodillas. Es-cuche la voz de mi mamá alejarse de mi, desapareciendo más y más ondo en el bosque. Cualquier esperanza que tenía de rescatar a mi mamá desapareció junto con ella. Mis ojos empezaron a mojarse.

Como puede ser? Primero mi papá, luego mi hermana, y ahora mi madre, la única persona que me quedaba. Nunca pude proteger alguno

194

The Road to Nowherede ellos, siempre tenían que ser ellos los que me protegían. Mi estupi-dez nunca me dejo ver lo que tenía. Y ahora, todo se fue a la ruina.

Mi cuerpo se levantó con su propia mente, y le di una puñetazo a un árbol.

“Maldita sea! Porque a mi!” Un puno. Dos, tres, hasta que le di tantas veces que no pude con-

tar. Solo pare, cuando sentia que mis manos se prendian en fuego. Respire hacia adentro y afuera, hasta que mi cabeza quedo en blanco. Luego, abrace el árbol, como si fuera mi mamá, y mi caí al suelo.

No se cuanto tiempo paso. Minutos, horas, días, semanas, todo tipo de tiempo se volvió insignificante, una molestia que no conocía mi dolor. No me habia dado cuenta, pero el sol empezó a salir, convir-tiendo la noche oscura en un cielo morado. Finalmente, decidí buscar las bolsas que me tiro mi madre. Paso, por paso, recorrí el bosque, hasta que por fin encontré la bolsa de mi mamá. En la bolsa, encontré una mapa de Argentina, con una línea desde Buenos Aires hacia otra ciudad, Colonia del Sacramento, localizado en Uruguay. Ahí es donde se fue mi hermana. También había agua, mas empanadas, fruta seca, documentos, y ropa.

Colgué la mochila sobre el hombro que no tenía mi mochila y empecé a caminar. Con una sonrisa triste, me acordé del tiempo en que le dije a mi madre que yo iba a cargar las dos bolsas.

○○○

RAZ, RAZ, RAZMi pies arrastraban contra la tierra, mi zapatos originalmente ne-

gros ahora un color café. Mi cabeza estaba fijado en el piso, ya que el sol pegaba fuerte, justo arriba de mi. De repente, saqué mi mapa para ver si iba en el camino correcto. Al revisarla, no solo vi que iba en el camino correcto, pero según la mapa solo me faltaba un poco de camino para llegar a mi destinación, el transbordador de Buquebus.

Segui caminando. Y dentro de un poco de tiempo, quizás una hora, empecé a escuchar voces. Levante mi cabeza, mi cuello recla-mando mi esfuerzo. El sol atacó mi vista por varios segundos, pero cuando mi vista se aclaro pude ver que por fin llegue al puerto de el transbordador.

Mi cara se iluminó con esperanza. Por fin he llegado. Revise las notas que dejó mi madre. Ahí mismo en la mapa había dejado los ho-rarios de cuando el transbordador partiria. 7:30, 9:00, 9;45, 16:00, y

23:59. Que hora es? Tengo que ir a preguntarle a alguien. Mis pasos lentos tomaron velocidad y empecé a trotar hacia quien sea que me podria ayudar. Mire a una anciana sentada en una banca. Quisas ella me podria ayudar? Trote hacia donde se encontraba ella.

“Disculpa señora, me podría dar la hora por favor?”“Por su puesto nino,” contestó la anciana, con una sonrisa

chimuela. “... aver... faltan 13 para las 2”Con entusiasmo, dije, “Muchas gracias!” Que bien, creo que voy

a tener suficiente tiempo para manejar todo el papeleo y bordar el vi-aje que toma plazo a las 4 de la tarde. De nuevo comencé a trotar, cuidadoso de que no pareciera sospechoso.

Dentro de algunos minutos, el edificio de registración para el Buquebus se encontraba en frente de mi. Pase por la entrada, y como había sospechado, había mucha gente que quería bordar. Comencé a inspectar los letreros en frente de cada oficina. Compra de boletos, recoger boletos, registración... ah, perfecto! Centro de inmigración. Ahí tengo que ir para que me revisen los documentales. Entre a la oficina. Adentro, había cajas de oficinas en donde personas estaban siendo ayudados por unas personas con uniforme de oficial, presumi-blemente oficiales de inmigración. A mi izquierda, había un lugar designado para que la personas hagan fila, pero nadie estaba ahi. Em-pece a ir en esa direccion, pero de pronto una voz amplificada por un micrófono anuncio: “Siguiente en línea, favor de pasar a la oficina 3C.”

Ubique a la oficina 3C, y me dirigí allá. Me asome por el espacio que había en la oficina cúbica, y una voz dijo, “Pasa, por favor.” Pase dentro de los muros amarillos y me encontré con dos oficiales. Note que el de la izquierda tenía una divisa con la bandera de Argentina, y el de la derecha tenía bandera de Uruguay.

El oficial que tenía bandera de Uruguay dijo, “Toma un asiento.”Hice lo que queria. Mis piernas temblaban. Ojala y no se le

olvido algo a mi mamá dentro de estos documentos. El oficial de Argentina dijo, “Que tal, joven. Yo soy Carlos

Gómez, y mi socio es el oficial Gaston Ramirez. Nosotros vamos a re-visar que tengas los documentales necesarios para abordar el Buque-bus.”

“Esta bien,” conteste timidamente. Les entregue el sobre que según mi madre tenía los documentos que ocupaba.

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The Road to NowhereVarios minutos pasaban, y me quede callado durante todo el pro-

ceso. Me troné los dedos, y luego empecé a rozar mis dedos sobre las costras que tenía en mi codo izquierdo. Note que los oficiales a menudo regresaban a verme. Que pasa? Porque me miran tanto? Quizás es porque me debo de ver sucio, o podría ser que acaso me faltaba algo para tomar el viaje.

El oficial Gaston me miró con ojos sospechosos. “Oye hijo, me pregunto porqué viajas tú solo. No tienes un acompañante?”

Mis nervios escalaron todo mi cuerpo. Que digo? Si digo que mi mamá murio, seguramente me van a preguntar un montón de cosas. Pero de lo contrario, quizás me podrian ayudar en buscar a mi madre. Y si saben que miento? Que hago?

“No senor. Mi mamá dijo que podría ir yo solo para encontrarme con mi hermana.” Al menos no mentí, solo no di toda la historia.

El oficial Gaston me miro a los ojos con mucha intensidad por lo que parecia como horas. Finalmente, dijo, “Esta bien. Solo quería ase-gurarme, por que como deberías saber tú mamá incluyó una firma aquí en una forma de permiso para menores.

En serio? Pero como, cuando? Porque? Se que a mi mamá le gusta estar bien preparada, pero puede ser que se preparo tanto? Po-dría ser que firmo esto en caso de que alguien me la quitara, o quizás... tenía planes de juntarse con mi padre todo este tiempo? No puede ser...

“Ah.. si oficial, mi madre dijo que incluyo eso antes de que me fuera,” ojala y no sospeche nada, “entonces ya puedo bordar, ver-dad?”

“Si, ya todo está arreglado. Que tenga buen viaje,” dijo el oficial Carlos.

Tome mis cosas, tratando de actuar normal, y fui a recoger mi bo-leto.

○○○

“Personas aborde el Buquebus, ya han llegado a su destinación. Favor de salir de el transbordador con precaución.”

Por fin, el momento ha llegado. Recogí mis cosas, emoción y preocupación llenando mi pecho como la briza salada del mar. Contento de por fin ver a mi hermana Marta, y tristeza de decirle las malas noticias. Tome las escaleras para bajar al muelle. Hoy he llegado como un niño, que siempre ha ocupado atencion y proteccion.

Pero, algun dia, voy a regresar a mi casa y país un hombre fuerte y con mis padres. papás, se los prometo.

198

The Road to Nowhere

El Híbrido

Kobe ManguilI woke up to my tío whispering harshly, “¡Sobrino! Despertar.”I get up and look around me. I see the sun coming up and realize

it’s early in the morning. I see that we are in a 24 hour gas station.“¿Necesita usar el baño?” he asked. I shook my head. My tío is a

smuggler who helped me come to the U.S.“¿Estamos casi allí?” I asked.“Es cerca de dos horas más,” he replied.“Aquí tienes,” he says as he hands me a muffin. I eat it quickly

and try to fall back asleep. As I close my eyes, I can hear my tío say to me;

“Don’t get too excited sobrino,” he said in English.“Don’t worry. I am used to being disappointed.”

I had a hard time sleeping. The nightmares kept me tossing and turning. It’s always the same nightmare too. I get to my padre’s house. I walk up the front steps of his beautiful red brick apartment and knock on his door. My heart is beating out of my chest. I’m sweating like crazy. And right as the door is about to open, I wake up in a jolt, gasping for air, sweating uncontrollably.

This time, I sit up and look around and I see that we’re at the beach. I can feel the summer breeze and I can smell the ocean.

“Vaya lave usted mismo en el océano,” mi tío said. He threw me a towel and nodded toward the sea. The sun is high up so I’m guess-ing it’s about 12:00 pm. We should almost be there.

“¿Que hora es?” I asked.“Son las once y cuarto de la mañana. Ya estamos aquí, pero usted

debe limpiar usted mismo antes de ir a verlo,” I got out, stood on my tiptoes and stretched my hands up towards the sun. I felt the warmth of the sun hit my face and it felt like home. I remember the same feel-ing back in Argentina. There was something about the way the sun made everything look. Everything the light touched gave it this kind of glow that can’t be described. In these moments were the only time I’ve gotten close to happiness.

200

The Road to NowhereAs I finish stretching, I take my white t-shirt off and head to the

water. Not a lot of people are there. I didn’t expect a lot of people but I thought there would’ve been more than this. There was an old cou-ple taking a walk, and there was a group on girls about my age. I catch them giggling and glancing over at me. Suddenly, I was invaded by a wave of self consciousness. I felt them staring at me. At my body. It’s not that I felt scrawny or fat. Now that it’s come to my at-tention, I’m actually well built. I used to climb trees back home to get fruit on days when we couldn’t afford breakfast. I would hop around from tree to tree. I guess that’s how I stayed in shape. I never really thought about my body and how people saw me because I already knew. They all hated me. Just because I’m half American. They say that my kind stuck their noses in places where it didn’t belong. El Híbrido is what they called me. Every single one of them hated my guts with a passion that I’ve never gotten before. All of them except for one. My best and only friend Camila. She’s sort of like me. She isn’t half American but she doesn’t have her dad either. Her dad was a reporter for the local newspaper. He was tired of all the violence go-ing on. He spoke against the government and was kidnapped. She hasn’t seen her dad since she was twelve. She knows what it’s like to be lonely. She knows what it’s like to grow up way faster than any child should. We understand each other.

After I washed myself, I got out and dried myself, then I walked to my tío’s truck. When I got there he handed me a nice pair of black shorts and a striped t-shirt. He also gave me a pair of sneakers.

“¿Dónde sacaste esta ropa bonita?” I asked as I put on my new shirt.

“Allá,” he said as he pointed to the beach store. “Ven bien.”“Gracias,” I replied as I finished putting on my sneakers.“From what your mama told me, he should be somewhere around

here. He lives in a beach house?” he asked.“I guess so,” I replied.“He must have a lot of money.”“And he never even thought to send any of it to me or my

mama,” I said. I was hurt more than anything else. He probably had money to burn and he still hasn’t sent a single penny. Does he want to send money? Does he care? Has he been trying to send money but just can’t find us? These are questions among the thousands I have for him. Questions that need to be answered.

“Bueno este es de donde partimos,” he said.

“Muchas gracias tío.” I hugged him.“Tener cuidado,” he said. He got back in his rusty truck, and

drove off. I watched him drive away until I could no longer see him. Now, I am on my own.

As I walked down the beach, I search for the numbers 1314 on each house. My dad’s address. I never really knew a lot about my dad except that his name is John Stewart and he has the same blue eyes as me. I started wondering how much he would look like me. Did he have brown, thin, bed head hair like me? Probably not. He probably had slicked back brown hair that’s been coated in hair products. I pic-tured him with peachy skin that got easily burnt if he was in the sun for too long. He had freckles across his cheekbones and a strong jaw-line. He was good looking but wasn’t a supermodel. I pictured this man as the average American man. I could see why my mom fell for him. She doesn’t really like to talk about him. She didn’t have to say why but I could see it in her eyes. I see that him leaving her hurt her in ways that can’t be explained by words. I share my mom’s pain but not on the same level. I try not to make her talk about it a lot because I see how much it hurts her.

After about thirty long minutes of dragging my feet along the beach sand, I can tell I’m almost there. 1310...1311...1312...1313. And then I see it. 1314. His house is the nicest thing I have ever laid my eyes on. Big windows and light wooden planks on the sides. I take a moment to let it all in. Then I walk towards the sidewalk and off the sand. My heart beats at an unbelievable rate, my palms become sweaty. I walk up his front steps, and stop right in front of his green door. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole entire life. I left my home, my mother, my best friend for this exact moment. I rode on the roofs of moving trains for him. So why couldn’t I just knock on the door? Was it the fact that he left us and I couldn’t face him? Or am I just afraid of the truth? I stare at the door for thirty seconds be-fore I turn around and walk away. Right as I am about to leave, I stop myself. I came here for not only me, but for my mom and Camila. Camila may never see her dad again, but mine is on the other side of that green door. If I leave right now, I’m turning down an opportunity she never had. So I turn around, walk up to that green door and knock like my life depended on it. About ten seconds later I hear a bolt un-lock. The door opens, and a man with eyes bluer than the ocean stood

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The Road to Nowherebefore me. He looked nothing like how I imagined. He had blonde hair, nicely combed to the left. He was really buff but not overly buff, and he was a little taller than me. He wore a red polo shirt and khaki shorts.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked. His voice was deeper than I thought.

“Hi, umm...” I blanked. He stared at me in confusion. “Are you John Stewart?” I asked.

“That’s me. Is there something I can do for you?” he asked as if he had something better to do.

“Um, there’s not really a way to say this but-” he cut me off.“If this is a prank, I’m not interested kid.” As he was about to

shut the door, I just blurted it out.“I’m your son.” There was a moment of silence.“M-My what?” he asked.“I’m your son.” Another moment of silence.“Please come inside. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.” he said.“Dante, Dante Stewart.” I shook his hand then I walked inside. It

was even nicer on the inside. There was a shiny white tile floor, and a row of hanging light bulbs down the hallway. When I walked into the living room, I was almost blinded by the whiteness of the walls. I also saw that there was a smooth black leather couch, and a nice white marble coffee table. Along the wall, there were countless amount of books. I guess you could say that I got my love of reading from my dad. He sat on the couch and he invited me to sit next to him.

“How did this happen?” he asked.“Back in Argentina. You were there for the American Army as a

medic. You and my mama met and fell in love. You guys got down to business and she ended up pregnant. But then you left. With no trace of where you went or if you would be back.”

“That’s... I don’t believe you. I would’ve known.”“Look at me.” He looked me dead in the eye. “Do you see my

eyes?” He nodded. “No one else back home has blue eyes but me. But here, I see people like me. You, are like me. So look me in the eyes and tell me I’m not your son.”

“I don’t know what to say...” he said.“You could say sorry for leaving me and my mama back in Ar-

gentina,” I responded harshly. “You left without saying goodbye. You left without telling us why, or if you would be back. Mi mama waited for you for three years before she gave up. How could you leave her?

You left her to take care of me by herself. Who does that? How could you-”

“I didn’t even know I had a son!” he interrupted defensively. “I went to Argentina as a medic, for my troops that I went with. I was the top medic. The best in my field. There was no one more qualified than me. Then I met your mother. She was a great woman. I never meant to hurt her. We fell in love and I wanted to stay with her. I re-fused to return. I would’ve worked for her and us so that we could have a better life. I kept fighting to stay there with her...” he trailed off.

“So why didn’t you?” I asked. He didn’t reply. “Why. Didn’t. you.” I asked again. “Why. Didn’t. You.” I screamed with tears in my eyes.

“They would’ve killed her! The American government didn’t want to lose their best medic to some woman so they said if I didn’t come they would kill her and no one would know it was them. They said they would make it look like an accident. That is why I didn’t stay. To protect her, and unintentionally you. Had I known she was pregnant with you I would have stayed and find a way to protect us. So that in the end we would still be together. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I left you guys behind. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell her. I’m sorry that I hurt her, but most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to be your fa-ther.” No dam in the world could hold back the tears that followed. We both started to cry. I got up and embraced him. Mi padre. I found him. He is here. I found him.

“Te perdono. I forgive you.” For the first time in my life, I am fi-nally happy.

It was pretty late, so he let me sleep in his guest bedroom. The next morning, we talked for hours and hours. We talked about how different our lives were and how things would’ve been had he stayed with us.

“The Hybrid? That’s what they call you?” he said with disbelief.“Ya, they do.”“Why ‘The Hybrid’?”“Because I’m half American, half Argentinean. They believe that

Americans are SO different from them that they might as well be a different species.”

“I guess being made fun of runs in the family.”

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The Road to Nowhere“¿Qué quieres decir?” I asked not realizing I was speaking in

Spanish. To my surprise, he responded.“When we left, the other guys heard about my little romance with

your mother. They made fun of me and called me soft for falling for an Argentinean woman. But I didn’t let that get to me or my career. I’m now a doctor.”

“That explains your castillo. You probably have all the women you want too.”

“I do have a girlfriend. She’s great you should meet her.” As if she heard our whole conversation, she walked into the room. A beau-tiful, slender woman stood before us. She had short brown hair, emer-ald eyes, and cherry red lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you had company. I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Stephanie.” she said, reaching out to shake my hand.

“Hello, my name is Dante.” I replied. She seemed really nice.“Stephanie, I want you to meet my son.” she froze and stared

blankly at my dad.“Your what?”“I know this is crazy, but just hear me out.”“You have a son and

you didn’t tell me?!”“I didn’t even know I had a son until yesterday.” They talked as

if I wasn’t there.“Where did he come from? How do you even know he’s your

son?” He explained the whole story to her. She couldn’t contain her rage. “So he’s from Argentina and he just wanted to find you?”

“Yes. He wanted to find his father.” he said.“Ugh, don’t use that word, you just met him yesterday.”“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s my dad,” I interrupted.“You stay out of this,” she snapped.“What do you mean stay out of this? You’re talking about me!”“I don’t care if you were the President himself. You can’t just

come here and claim to be someone and just expect us to give you what you want,” she said.

“He just wanted to find me. That’s it,” my dad said.“Well that’s not entirely true,” I said.“See what I mean,” she said. She sounded like she had discov-

ered the sun. I obviously wanted to find my dad but I need money to care for mi madre.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Back home, we aren’t doing so well. We need money so I can keep going to school so I could get a good job and care for mi madre,” I said.

“See! He just wants to take your money because he can’t work for himself.”

At this point, I was furious. She could ignore me. She could talk about me like I wasn’t right in front of her, but she did not have the right to tell me I didn’t work hard enough.

“I can’t work for myself? Are you joking? Do you think I just showed up here out of the blue? No I didn’t. I almost died trying to reach my dad and you have the nerve to tell me I don’t work hard enough? I have to wake up every morning at 4:00 to walk to a school where everyone hates me so that I can get a good job and take care of my mom. What do you do Stephanie? What do you do to make money?”

“I don’t work anymore.”I laughed right in her face.“You don’t have a job, and you’re dating a rich doctor, and you

say I’m taking his money. There’s no need to take his money because you already do it, you leech.” I could do this all day but my dad stopped us.

“Stop it both of you. I care very much about both of you and it would mean a lot to me if you both could just get along.”

“No, John. I’m going, and by the time I get back, he better be gone.” She stormed out of the house and slammed the door behind her. The room was quiet. My dad looked at me in disappointment and went to his room. I did the same. I was so angry. How could he just let some girl talk to me like that? His own son! I’ve never been more upset in my life. It took me an hour to cool down and think about things. I was in his house. I should be respectful of the space and to the people it shelters. Even if she’s a bruja malvada. I walked out into the living room and sat next to my father on the couch.

“I’m sorry I acted like that,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t have dis-respected her like that. It’s just that I’m really struggling. Me and my mom, and we really need your help. I need money so I can keep going to school there.”

“It’s okay, Dante. She shouldn’t have spoke to you like that ei-ther. But I don’t think you should go back. You’re my son and I want you to stay here with me. To make up for lost time.”

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The Road to Nowhere“But I need to take care of my mom.”“I will send money there. I will send as much money as she needs

but I want to be with my son. You could go to school here and get a better education. You could get a job here and have a better life. You could make friends that won’t make fun of you for being yourself. And in time you could even bring your mother here.” It sounded too good to be true. This wasn’t how I pictured things to be but it’s good enough for me. I’m sure that I would have to go through some stuff but it would be worth it. All of it.

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay here with you.”“Th-That’s great!” we hugged and I knew I was loved. But all

good moments come to an end. As if she wanted to end every good moment I could ever want, Stephanie entered the room.

“Why is he still here?” she asked. Before I could get up and apol-ogize to her for the way I acted, my dad spoke first.

“Stephanie, do not talk my son like that. You have every right to be mad and upset but you never have the right to be disrespectful.”

“Don’t make me laugh, John. He is disrespecting you by coming here unannounced and asking for money.”

“Sorry for coming to my dad for help,” I said.“Don’t talk to me like that boy,” she said.“He came to me looking for help and I am going to help him.

He’s going to live with us.”Now she was mad. “He’s made you weak John. You’re letting

him control you and I’m not going to let him do that to you. It’s either you leave him or you leave me.” He looked at her, then at me.

“You know what, Stephanie. Thank you.” she stared at him in confusion. “Thank you for showing me that you were controlling me. Not him. I let you weasel your way into my life and take advantage of me. I let you quit your job so that you wouldn’t have to work. I let you go spend my money on yourself so that you were happy. Not us. So yes, Stephanie. I chose my son. You have an hour to pack your stuff and get out of my house.” I wanted to stand up and applaud my dad. She stared at him in disbelief. “And leave your house keys on the counter on your way out.” She turned around and walked away.

“Wow,” I said.“Never let anyone treat you like you are less than you are,” he

stated.“Thank you. You made my life so much better in ways that I will

never be able to repay you, and for that I say thank you.”

“You are my family and I was told to always stick to family.”

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The Road to Nowhere

Cuba

Cambio – Nicholas Joseph……………………..……………..215Desafortunada Aventura – Adarius Turley……………….…..221Casa Cuba – Madison Frausto……………………………….227

Existing within Cuban culture this collection of short stories por-trays three different perspectives of Cuba’s significant 1960’s history. Focusing on immigrants, politics, and citizen life, these stories un-cover the lives of dynamic characters and unique situations. Alonzo is a timid secluded 21 year-old who finds himself dependent on the reign of Fidel Castro. Daria, a Cuban immigrant residing in New York, learns that Cuban residents are being executed by their government. She travels back to Cuba to protect all that she can, including her family. The final character, Fermine, is caught between political crosshairs and fights to keep his morality while serving his home.

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The Road to Nowhere

Cambio

Nicholas JosephDark stained wood lines the house, the sharp sleek angles un-

touched in manner, yet kept deliberately such. Soft music found its way through the house. Colors and paintings fell upon the walls. I be-gan along the same path ever intently, meticulously planned until I reached my study. Papers and books sprawled upon desks, a sense of ease relaxed me and I assumed a position so clearly mine. Words in-fluencing my thought; I welcome it with a drink in hand! Condemning men above man, I before you. Structuring my own thoughts to better my country or to prevail my ideal I know not but, it is here I sit right-eous. Restless for change and opportunity growing scarce, it seems the analytic mind stays anxious in nature. Thou sweet patience, if only you came to me in a burst of fiery flames! Irony crying out through the trees! Brave nonetheless, however unjustified or justified, at least I can recognize both braveness and patience as the only virtues capa-ble of the furthering of idea. Alas I sit, wallowing in one but not the other. The pain it causes me, to watch my country deny the justness of socialism. To see the beauty of equality, the purity of clean slates right in front of their eyes. Hands sprawled to the heavens is how they should be! A true state just beyond our grasp. I’d be a coward not to fight for something I love so profusely.

A ringing ended my tangent and I followed my ears into a room now dark. I could have sworn dusk had not beckoned the horizon when I arrived, however, now the moon cascaded well over the night.

“Fermine, Los U.S.A. ha terminado todo el comercio.”“Ay, Sophia dime que no es verdad?”“Si.”“¿Se puede celebrar una reunión de mañana?”“Si, puedo hacer que funcion.”With that I milled over what I had gathered and about what it had

meant, not for myself, but for where we as a country were headed. Surely at first I believed the notion that Fulgencio Batista’s rule must have been expelled, but now I was left in wonder at how much progress we’ve made. Downing the last sip of my drink I retired to the bedroom, laying awake for hours in the absence of light.

The next morning I made my way down a spiral staircase to a room smelling of cologne and musk, tobacco smoke lingered under the ceiling and ingested everyone in the room. It would be here that I speak out to a group of like-minded Cubans who I’m sure, would have been aware of the news. At first I couldn't make out much, a few silhouettes, but promptly Sophia emerged from the crowd. I’ve known her for some time now. Originally meeting at college where we ma-jored in political science and had partaken in numerous rallies to-gether. At the time it was almost criminal to be a student.

“I’m sorry, Fermine, this is all I could gather.”“It is more than enough, thank you so much Sophia,” I squeezed

her hand and looked into her jade eyes and now couldn’t help but ap-preciate all that she has done.

I made my way toward the circle of chairs where everyone had gathered, mapping out each step as if their subtle importance truly mattered. Seats began to fill and I patiently waited it in an obscure corner, waiting to take charge.

“This my friends,” I walked towards the center of the circle, my hands finding home behind my back, “My fellow comrades, is not fleeing from a broken system. This is not by any means, liberation. Can they all not see it as so? Are we that blind to what is happening? Distracted by errors of previous predecessors that we cannot see we will not be governing ourselves once again? How foolhardy our valiant country, small in size I will give them that, but to condemn us to a pawn to the political cleansing of bodies so arrogant in belief. To think that they and they alone are true in motive. To disregard our cul-ture and use us simply as a tool to further their reign. I will not sit by and watch Castro meddle with our lives, caught in political crosshairs. Cutting off ties with the U.S. will leave us with no choice but to redi-rect trade to the U.S.S.R. Not only swearing our allegiance, but push-ing us into the forefront of a problem that is not ours! ”

Murmurs of agreement gasped from the crowd in joint unison.“Brothers and sisters shall we sit in mockery of the so proclaimed

leaders of our undistinguished rights!? Watch as they hijack our liber-ation and lead our citizens to the belief of prosperity and justness.”

Just then a man with short choppy hair had stood up. Balancing a cigar between his fingertips he looked deep into my eyes and said, “Fermine, I cannot help but agree that nationalizing and restoring

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The Road to Nowherepride is long overdue. What is he accomplishing? Imperialism has no place here, and that is what their fundamental influence was and is now no longer.”

“I’m not sure how you trust that the influence will not simply shift? Capitalism to

communism whichever you prefer the views are tainted with ulte-rior motives.” I snapped accusingly.

“Be as it may however, it does not mean no good can come out of it. If these states’ beliefs are so out of hand, why get stuck up on changing it? Can we not simply throw our ideals into the mix, use it as a platform to apply our liberal stance to the now communist state? To push our societal values?”

It was in this moment that a realization occurred to me. To sit and whine of powers we could not prevail was a fool’s dream. It keeps those who believe they understand at ease, while those wise enough to pardon actions are granted the opportunity to take such. Genuinely in-trigued by his questions I settled on waiting for him thereafter, how-ever, it was him who had approached me. His heavy eyes darted around quickly in contradiction to the coyness of his walk. Steadily moving about it was only once he had settled on a spot a few meters from me that he began to speak. Speaking rather quickly he regarded me with a certain bravado.

“To put it simply my friend, I see an issue. People will begin to leave for the exact reasons you had brought up. The people need sub-stance.”

“And how do you propose bringing this to the people?”“I was once part of the popular socialist party and worked fairly

closely with Castro. To put it bluntly, he has his own motives, but he is a radical at heart and change can be made under his authoritative.”

“I do believe there is a more appropriate place for us to discuss these matters,” I said quietly.

“Of course, my apologies. I don’t mean to come off too strong but I see potential in you and, I think you do as well.”

“Down the street their is a coffee shop. Shall we meet at, say, 12pm?”

Sensing something of interest Sophia had found herself at my side. Explaining at great length the ordeal at hand she made her opin-ion very clear. Debating it back and forth we both felt it wise to at least inquire with the man who approached me. At the very least it was an opportunity to discuss pressing matters.

I spent the next hour and half wandering around Havana. I truly did love this city. It was mine and I was hers. I grew up within blocks of where I thrive now and have seen firsthand the cause and effect of so many issues. To rob the development of a child, the sense of free-dom and the understanding of self that it produces is something I have seen too often. Walking through streets I reminisced of the childhood I had. My parents were simple people. I basked in economic trauma and saw the effects of it all around me. Good people struggled, good hard working people struggled and I only got to go to college because I had wealthier family members. If it weren’t for this, like so many others I would have been condemned to an unbearable and restless life. Even as it is is I feel guilty that I was able to do so, derived from this I feel the constant need to prevail more just opportunities to the people around me.

“I’m sorry but I had never gotten your name?” I sat with my legs crossed, coffee in hand, black just the way I like it.

“My name is Rodrigo. I’ve had interest in you for some time now.”

“Pardon me if I do not seem overly thrilled in that particular concept,” I retorted carefully, holding my ground, we exchanged eye contact. He looked through me as if he had no interest in myself, but rather a person behind me.

Pressing again he said, “I believe we have ample opportunity to create change. Real, just change. Our country will divide, maybe not wholly, at the very least people will leave. Castro needs the peo-ple not behind him but standing with him. We want you to do that. If you stand before me, so willing, you will have real say and real influ-ence. Make actual change.”

“Change, change you speak of? This is throwing a bone to the people!” I spat at him.

“How do you expect me to throw away all I stand for, all I represent? It’s rather petty don’t you think. Regardless, however, I would be lying if I said you didn’t have my ear.”

“Your official position would be an advisor and, let me make this very clear, your only job would be to present radical change for the people. Whatever you propose will be taken under thought but, nothing can be guaranteed. It would be implemented under our guide-lines. Here is my number, if you want it please contact me.” And with that he had left.

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The Road to NowhereLater that night I found myself at a bar with Sophia as I often did.

Seemingly disinterested in any other topic, she pressed and pressed about the matters Rodrigo and I had discussed. Skirting around the meeting I kept everything vague; clearly to her disapproval as within minutes of staring blankly into my drink I realized she was no longer next to me. I looked hard at my drink once again. To stay or go? Re-gardless of it I could have always made myself a drink within the con-fines of my home but, for some reason the thought of getting up ap-palled me and seemed rather ridiculous. Instead I settled upon staring intently on the peeling wall paper in front of me. Stained yellow, I imagine it was once white. Corners peeling, curling in, yearning to reach its center. Looking so closely, maybe it just wanted to rekindle with its brethren. To look him in the eye and say with vindictive ea-gerness, “It is I, and I am here!” Or perhaps it was a painfully slow cry of agony, in which frozen in time, he lay calling out, “Take me off this forsaken wall! Do you not see me? Day after day I am dying!” Regardless of the autonomy of the stricken wallpaper the damn thing was ugly. Pattern throwing up along a pale yellow tinge, it disgusted me. Not that the wall was much better, if anything it was worse! Crumbling in a bath of cigarette smoke and spilled scotch. I couldn’t even fathom what half the stains were, yet I sat here so invested in the physical makeup of this particular wall. So much in fact that I dedi-cated multiple drinks to it by this point and, in a fit of poetic angst threw the last contents of my cup on it. A mutual recognition of dis-gust and respect.

Chuckling to myself I went on my satisfied way. I suppose I was to contemplate the offer I recieved, god awful thing it was as I laughed again at the situation. It seemed almost comical to think about, clearly I needed to take it, assuming it wasn’t a setup of some sort. I mean, this could quite literally be my only opportunity to create something. Had I spent my life and career fighting, arguing, like a child who hated everything? Or will I have spent it speaking up and yelling to cut my voice through the towering wall that is my govern-ment.

I drunkenly opened my door to the confines of my living room. Nothing out of place, I sat down uncomfortably in the order that had taken over nearly every room in my house. Sitting on dark hardwood flooring I raised my empty glass to an unspoken toast of the decision I had come to. Pulling out the card I received, I ran my fingers along its face and dialed my phone.

○○○

This was almost 6 months ago and now I walk into my house like I had time and time before. Sprawled upon my table were dress cloths and papers; I was propped behind a phone and pen. I spent hours here almost every day, a link in a chain. I grab a water and shuffled to-wards my study. The creek of the door’s dense wood shattered silence and I stepped into the settling light. Bending over, I cleaned off labels until I found the box I needed. An old chest entwined in gold trim. Throwing an aching back over it, I struggled lugging it through the hallway. Each step sung with sedated pain until at least I was relieved in a bloom of enveloping grey dust. My face glinted yellow in the glory of the reflective handle. My hands glided over it and once opened, revealed hundreds of dozens of papers. In here was the vali-dation of my decision. My life justified behind bureaucratic process, condemned to a life in a box.

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The Road to Nowhere

Desafortunada Aventura

Adarius Turley“Ugh, I’m so restless. Did you sleep well because it was hard for

me to get going. Dad, hello, anyone there?” I call louder as I get upon my feet, “Dad!”

Looking a little troubled at the moment, thinking, pacing from the far end to the nearest side of  the one room apartment we had. The only thing I see is beat up walls showing the wood underneath. There were these weird gray, oval creatures moving across the floor in a blink of an eye. You need to be careful every step you make; if not, you are going to feel a little moist squish on the bottom of your feet. It was always a little hard to breath fresh air, you would just smell feces that didn’t even belong to you. The smell of people who haven’t re-ally cleaned themselves in a decent amount of time.

Laying your eyes shut was a challenging thing to do with all the ruckus going on beyond the walls of your space, hearing humans yelling, screaming. All the gang violence happening with the ear-piercing bangs, making you spring up like a grasshopper. Fleeing to find cover anywhere in the room. On the other hand it wasn’t so easy. There wasn’t that much stuff to hide behind, we had nothing to dine on, we had nothing to rest our bodies on, nothing to have our cabasa lay on, nothing for eyes to be entertained. Nothing...we had nothing.

Anytime you had a meal, your seat is waiting for you next to your little friends down there. Your meal would have to be eaten in a mat-ter of no breaks or else they are going to snatch it and run away into their little hideout. You wouldn’t see them again until the next feed-ing time.

“What’s that?” someone shouts outside of the one lonely window I had. I'm a little timid to see who it is howling my name, “Who knows me?” I question myself. Trying to recall someone I talk to, be-cause I don’t talk to anyone but my family whom I don’t see any-more. So I finally decide, after contemplating on whether to ignore this person or to see what he wants, to rush through rubbish of safety items and grab a black hilt with a shiny end to it.

Very slowly I open what we have left of a door, splintering all around every corner and edge. I peek my head out with caution, mak-ing aware of every danger spot. One foot goes out following my body,

then comes the second foot making its way out. Coast is clear, I begin going down the stairs as quiet as possible, but have a little trouble with all the screeching. As if the cracked wood is trying to get me caught. One by one I put my foot on each stair, closing down to the bottom, I make the last three stairs with one jump. Knowing they are treacherous and will reveal my whereabouts. I open the door with ease, with just enough of a gap to see through. The front of my body makes its way out. Living there for a while, I forgot a piece of wood was lying in front of the door.

Mostly worrying about the strangers, I knee the wood, making it seem as if it was falling in slow-motion. Too concentrated on remain-ing a secret, I let it fall. Signaling them to come check it out, I panic and don't know what to do at this point, but run. I slip, but catch my-self, turning my legs into hummingbird wings. Left, right, duck, jump. Finding my way through all the traffic. Acting like a snake. Slithering through the tough cracks. Sprinting through houses. Going down al-leyways. Making sharp turns into any opening I come upon. Minutes have past by, gasping for air, legs turning into stone. Body slowly howling, timbering. The strangers decided to separate and trap me, so while I was running I take a look back and see only one guy chasing me. Thinking the others probably gave up, not knowing they have separated. The second I turned back around I run straight into a rock.

Knocking me to the ground, I look up. I couldn’t picture who they were with the sun staring right back at me. They all grab at least one limb and pri me up,  holding me very tight for no possibility of escaping. Few seconds go by, no words, just looking in each other eyes. I demand them to tell me who they are and what they want.

“Help, anyone, anyone help me please,” I call out to the public with a whimpering voice, alarming them to shut my mouth immedi-ately and take me out of the public’s view inside this abandoned building that was around the corner. One of the strangers slowly ad-justs their mouth to talk, but what he says was not I expected.

“Hi, I’m Pablo,”  he admits.I mumble a hello, with a confused face on why they want me. No

one understanding what I just said as you can tell by all their heads turning and their shoulders shrugging at each other.

“Take the cloth from his mouth,” one says. Clearing my throat as I repeat in a low voice, “Uh...hello.”  

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The Road to Nowhere“Do you have any idea who we are?” Pablo asks with a slight

grin on his face hoping I know exactly who I am talking to. “Um..,” I pause, not trying to say the wrong thing. Pablo raises

his voice, trying to intimidate me to answer. It doesn’t work but I answer anyways, “No...not really.” “Kids,

back in school, elementary,” Pablo hinted to me, doing everything he can to jog my memory back. I responded once again, “ No.” After Pablo did everything he can, he just decided to tell me instead of mak-ing me trying to remember.

“Ok the last time we saw each other was in the English Develop-ment Class, in the 4th grade. It was Carlito, Diego, Lorenzo, you and I. We were all in the same group working  together. Quizzing, study-ing helping each other out. Do you remember now?” Pablo pleads.

“A little is coming back to me now. Was the class number 203?” I answer back hoping to cheer him up for letting him down earlier. I look over my shoulder that is actually raised up since I've been alone. I look around at everyone's face and I see out of my peripherals Pablo grinning, probably excited knowing that I remember a little bit of back then.

The next day I wake up in an unfamiliar place. They had some-thing to dine on, they had something to rest their bodies on, some-thing to have their cabasa lay on, something for their eyes to be enter-tained.

I ask with curiosity, “Um, how did you guys get all this stuff?” Lorenzo replies eagerly, “We are secretly rich!” As gullible as I am I believe what they say, “Oh my gosh no way,

that’s so cool.” Lorenzo being the comedian he is jokingly answers back, “No

I'm just kidding around.” I request again, “How'd you guys get all this?” Lorenzo is about to admit it to me but, before he does asks me,

“Can you can keep a secret?” Looking a little confused I answer back, “ Yes, what for?” Lorenzo replies, “Ok here it is, we get all this stuff from stealing

this out of people’s houses.” I yell, “Why, why are you guys doing this, this is all wrong, you

guys can’t be doing this.” Carlito comes from around the corner telling me, “It’s not as bad

as you think it is. Plus we don't do it all alone, we get help.” I reply back, “Help, help from who, who do you guys know?”

Lorenzo brings up, “Remember how you said you can keep a se-cret.”

I answer back “Yes.” “Ok, you can’t tell nobody. We are working under Fidel Castro,”

Lorenzo spills the beans, probably with a little regret inside. “Fidel Castro, The Fidel Castro, wow that’s amazing, I mean The

Fidel Castro what that’s insane, why, how.” “Well it all started by us walking down the street, laughing, gig-

gling. Then we heard commotion coming from above us, so wonder-ing what it is we checked it. We go through the door and up the stairs, tip-toeing around. We reach where all the commotion was coming from. There was a window that we peeked inside, what we had saw we wish we hadn’t, what we saw, changed our lives. Men and masks, men in masks, men in masks taking, robbing people’s houses having bags full of stuff. Jewelry, money, televisions, and household items, they had so much stuff. Being so shocked we weren’t even in cover.

One of the robbers catches us and screams, “Hey.”We were so terrified we just ran out of there. All of us ran down

the hallway making our way to the door as fast as we can. Not knowing they had a getaway van. The robbers radio the van

and tell them that we are coming out. Once we see the door, we make a last stretch. Coming out of the door the rest of the crew is there and gobbles us up. They put cover our eyes and drive off. We have no idea what’s happening. The van stops, they take us out and walk us to the building and sits us on chairs.

The guy tells us, “Stay right there, you'll meet the boss. Time passing us by, no one saying a word. The guy says, “Gentlemen, meet Fidel Castro.” They take off the blindfolds, we look around, seeing this dark, creepy old facility they had us captive in. We turn our heads back to the front, there he is, looking at us with this brown cigar burn-ing smoke like diesel engine straight up into his face, but pays no mind to it. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and blows a grande cloud of smoke into all of our faces.

He asks us, “What are you guys doing here, huh.” None of us speak, too scared to open our mouths, he repeats, but this time adds a torch to the conversation. Once again he speaks, “What are you guys doing here, huh?” He raises his voice, the torch flaming right past our face. Intimidated, we speak, Diego pops around the corner

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The Road to NowhereDiego says, “Well we heard some ruckus going on so we decided

to check it out, all out of curiosity. We were just in so much shock of what we seeing we just stood there looking.

Castro stares at us, looked over at his men, looked back at us, he speaks, “Did it look fun, I mean would you do it if had the chance?”

We look at each other, look back at him, Lorenzo speaks in a whisper, “I mean I guess I would.”

We all look at Lorenzo  and nod our head.Castro grins, looks at his men and winks, “Get them started

boys,” he says laughing, then puts the cigar back in his mouth. “Wait, what,” Pablo screams while getting dragged away blinded

by a bag covering his head making it hard to breath. They throw us in the van again and started driving somewhere. We arrived, where the drove us sounds like a party.

Castro’s men tell us, “Get ready to put your dance shoes on, and get ready to get groovy.” The lights come back on, we can see that we are backstage.

One of Castro’s men explains the plan, “On the other side of the building there is a vase worth 1.2 million dollars. If you can receive it, you have what it takes to be a part of the team and be with us. It’s go time boys.”

We come from behind the curtains in our nice slick tuxedos try-ing to fit in and look apart of the party. We split up trying to find the vase faster. Diego spots it, and radios in telling us where its located. Obviously it's being guarded, so we have to distract them. Lorenzo being the comedian he starts cracking jokes and doing magic tricks. The blanket trick comes up and he messes it up on purpose for the distraction, he gives us the signal we move in. The blanket on both of the guards heads making them not see a thing we easily swept right past them.

Pablo looks around, “There it is,” shouting with a little bit of joy in his voice.  Diego grabs it and puts it in the bag. They go out the side door, running as fast as they can trying to get away from all the party. Not knowing anyone was there they run out the back door of the building, waiting for the van to come. Couple of more security guards are there, knowing there are suspects on the run.

They scream, “Hey, you guys right there, stop,” still waiting on the van, they start running at us, not knowing where to go, “Bang, Bang.” We look around we see Carlito trembling, holding a gun pointing straight at the guards, still smoking.

 

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The Road to Nowhere

Casa Cuba

Madison FraustoEl olor de gasolina y orine infecta el aire de mañana. Los sonidos

del tráfico y discusión de vagabundos están en la parte más grande del cuadro, y más hermoso aquí en Nueva York. Pero desde que me moví aquí, he aprendido a apreciar las calles asquerosas y olores traidores de la ciudad. Noté que cada pequeño detalle, o cada pequeño milagro, parecen ser un pequeño detalle en el retrato estatal gigantesco de Nueva York. Mi nueva casa. He aprendido a estar agradecido por las capas de dos pulgadas de el espesor del polvo aumentado encima de mi televisión. y mi mesa para comer. Los mosquitos que viven alrede-dor de mi fruta, en mis bananos marrones y naranjas podridos. Yo ya encontró a la gente por todas partes de Nueva York que odia el calor, el frío, la persona sin hogar, el rico, las calles, el campo. Todo. Pero lo amo. Estoy tan agradecido por ellos. Es tanto mejor que Cuba. Pero ver, esto es la única cosa que puede rebajar mí, Cuba. Las burlas de-salentadoras que ocurren en mi derecho de país de origen cuando es-cribo a máquina este. Cuba. Esto no parece nunca el final y en toda la probabilidad esto no se terminará alguna vez. Pero podría ser mi corazón triste que lógicamente razona con la materia gris inteligente en mi cabeza. Mi nombre es Daria.

Mis conocidos en el trabajo todo me odian. Todos ellos piensa que soy este pretencioso y grandioso siendo quién no se preocupa por nada. Pero sin embargo, me preocupo realmente. Sobre ciertas cosas. Im melindroso pero si me preocupo por algo no me preocuparé en ab-soluto. Aunque, yo sea un bastante confidente y mí persona fiable. Supongo que los amigos serían agradables pero quiero decir que soy nuevo aquí. Toda esta gente todavía hace asunciones sobre mí y no trata de llegarme a conocer. Pero esto no me molesta demasiado, tengo el trabajo y mí para preocuparme de. Más, ellos son obviamente ignorantes y no realizan como diversión soy. Entonces esto es su pér-dida. ¿Derecho? Ignorante a la razón por qué yo podría ser Está aquí. Alguien sería el mismo camino si sus padres los enviaran a otro país para vivir solos.

Tengo tanto miedo ahora mismo no sé hasta describirlo. Entonces comenzaré a partir del principio.

Hoy pareció a cualquier otro día, fui para trabajar, anduve a casa y nada salió de lo normal. Gasté diez minutos desgarrando mi bolso que trata de encontrar mis llaves de casa, como hago cualquier otro día. Tan pronto como hice, mi vecino, que es siempre dulce a mí, abrió su puerta principal que era correcta al lado de la mía. Ella muy rápidamente dijo,

¿“Mami ha visto usted las noticias? ¿Las noticias mija, los mi-raste?” Sacudí mi cabeza, ligeramente aturdida porque ella nunca había parecido tan preocupada por mí. Sus ojos eran grandes y lus-trosos y ella sostenía un pañuelo en su mano derecha. “Los Por fa-vorecen mija, vaya la mirada. E intento de no preocuparse tanto. Todo estará bien.”. Y en aquel momento ella salió de su pequeño desván y me abrazó fuertemente. Ella me dio un apretón suave y susurró “Que dios de bendiga un tu y tu familia mijita.”.Abracé su espalda pero tengo que confesar, fui terriblemente aturdido y me preocupé tanto porque ella crió mi familia.

Mi mamá y papá. Dejé en Cuba hace unos años. Ellos me dijeron que ellos se afiliarían a mí pronto, pero esto ha sido años ahora. Ellos me dijeron venir a Nueva York, it'd para ser safer. Yo podría perseguir mis sueños y yo podría estar alguien aquí. Yo realmente po-dría hacer algo de mi vida y aplicar mis talentos y vivir la mejor vida yo podría aquí. Yo tenía 18 años cuando vine aquí y sólo di vuelta 20. He tenido dos cumpleaños solos, sin la familia o hasta cualquier amigo. Es difícil fingir como el everything's bien todo el tiempo. Es difícil fingir como soy este ser humano fuerte y perfecto que está de acuerdo con todo este - yo debería seguir la historia ahora.

Tan después de un abrazo extenso y largo, finalmente me puse dentro de mi desván y anduve despacio a mi dormitorio, dejé mis cosas y quité mis zapatos. Y agarré mi manta que estaba en mi cama deshecha, porque yo era frío. El tiempo pasaba tan rápidamente pero yo no había notado hasta. Me senté en mi cama y creé los guiones de caso millón peores de lo que podría pasar, lo que les ha pasado.

Me senté en el canapé y alcancé para agarrar mi remoto que es-taba en la pequeña mesa el derecho permanente al lado de mi canapé. Presioné el botón rojo grande que dijo "el PODER" y esperó la TV a encender. Hice clic por los canales y encontré el Programa de Noti-cias Internacional. Yo era muy nervioso y yo temblaba ligeramente.

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The Road to NowhereEsperé un rato, todas las noticias eran sobre Sr. King y la guerra en Vietnam. Finalmente oí “Cuba”. Entonces "Muertes". No me estropeé en seguida porque era difícil de creer. Y no pensé en seguida que sería mis padres. ¿No podía ser, verdad? Las noticias dijeron que la gente estaba siendo matada, la gente inocente. Ellos protestaban, luchando por lo que ellos creen para su propio que bien es y ellos fueron mata-dos. Por el Gobierno cubano. Giré el derecho T.V. después del seg-mento de informe y como girado mi cuerpo para guardar en su sitio mi remoto noté que mis manos fueron completamente cubiertas en el polvo, infundí pánico y fui directamente a la ducha.

Esto es cuando las cosas tomaron una vuelta para el peor.Encendí el echar agua y quité mi ropa tan rápido como yo podría.

Entré en la ducha y lavé mis manos primero entonces mi cuerpo. Calmé un poco como yo iba a lavar mi pelo. Mientras yo lo lavaba me caí y sólo estuve allí sin vida. Era misterioso realmente. Comencé a gritar y sólo conseguí colder y colder. Como el aire y el echar agua era grados negativos y estuve congelado. Me senté y giré el mango entonces el echar agua se haría más caliente y nunca pareció trabajar. Lo giré antes de que yo no pudiera más y estuve congelado. Seguí pensando que mis padres podrían estar muertos. Como esto sería mi falta si ellos fueran porque yo no debía protegerlos allí. Como yo no debería haberlos abandonado para vivir una vida egoísta y sola aquí en el U.S.while que ellos sufren en Cuba. Mi corazón fue roto. Yo sabía que tuve que hacer algo. Tuve que hacerlo ahora mismo.

Desperté de mi ducha, que me baña en echar agua sucio, rasgones y melancolía. Pasando mi cuerpo desnudo en el espejo noté que mi piel era todas las sombras de reds y pinks. El echar agua estaba caliente, y yo no podía sentirlo hasta. Yo estaba tan con miedo que yo hubiera quemado mi propia piel y yo no lo había realizado. Puse mi ropa rápidamente, no quise mirarme un minuto más.

Me senté en mi cama con mi ordenador portátil y esto era el tiempo para conseguir trabajar. Escribí a mi trabajo, notificándolos de lo que yo hacía y no sabía si yo sería bien cuando vuelvo, si vuelvo. Escribí en mi diario personal también, esto es lo que hago ahora adi-vino.

Y adivino Que se pone tarde.Y adivino que yo debería dormir probablemente antes de que yo

nunca pueda otra vezPero espere, uno más cosa-Type Scroll Click Type Click

Estoy listo, buenas noches.

Esto es la mañana ahora y estoy en esta clase “del Carro de Cielo”, esto es lo que me gusta llamarlos al menos. Pero soy en-cabezado en casa y no hay ninguna amenidad en esto. NINGUNA co-modidad en el hecho que mi mamá y mi papá me esperarán allí, viendo que ellos no podrían estar conscientes, ellos podrían estar muertos. Viendo que la ciudad se ahoga, es empapado en la injusticia. Pocos peces son la gente y el que son devorados por el depredador, el régimen. Soy sólo un pequeño pescado afortunado que se escapó a otro mar. Pero es solo y frío y soy solitario. Con cada hora y cada minuto cada segundo me pongo débil. Pero estoy a punto de la tierra esto es el tiempo para ir.

LaterA mi sorpresa mis padres estaban vivos. Yo era feliz verlos y fui

abrumado con mil doscientas emociones que me golpean inmediata-mente. Yo fui aliviado y todavía disgustado en mi mente pensé que el-los fueron idos. Entonces los vi moverse y reírme, cocinarme, moviéndome y viviendo sus vidas. Inconsciente de lo que yo había asumido les pasó. De todos modos. Ellos eran todavía su vieja identi-dad. Suponga cuando usted es que viejo usted vive la misma vida di-aria y hace las mismas cosas que usted no desarrolla como usted una vez hizo. Como mí. Ellos dijeron que yo era diferente. Parezco más optimista, pero todavía … oprimido. Y no realicé antes de que ellos me mencionaran este. Soy sumamente contento por mí. Sin embargo soy el descontento con el conocimiento que soy solo, soy solitario. Y ello no por opción. Sin embargo, me caigo en una paleta de calor, reds y yellows creación de naranjas. Siento en casa y siento la satisfacción completa y la opulencia aun si actualmente, estoy en un canapé de veinte años que bebe a sorbos de tazas de cincuenta centavos de una tienda de segunda mano, soy de casa.

Mis patadas de sensibilidad en ahora, este no es la rotundidad y la felicidad que brevemente sentí para mi casa. La opresión y la angustia en este estado de calvario no son desapercibidas es correcto delante de mis propios ojos, es escrito en las paredes.

¿“Mi niña, por que lloras?” dados mi madre, su cara está pre-ocupada. No contesté

226

The Road to Nowhere¿“Usted no vino para visitar sólo a papás tus, verdad mija? Por

que yo mentiste. Sé que usted está preocupado. No consígase duelen mientras usted está aquí. Ningún vas un trabajar. El capellán de Tu está muy preocupado y todavía no durante la vez pasada usted estaba aquí …”

“Madre dejame, por supuesto estoy preocupado. ¡Vine aquí pensando ustedes podría haber estado muerto! No estoy okey y tengo que hacer algo para ayudar por otra parte usted vive en este abismo de la aflicción. No permitiré esto. No me preocupo lo que el Papá tiene que decir sobre este. Voy a terminar este.”. Ella me miró con una es-pecie de incomodidad y desilusión. Ella me dio una mirada suave y sus ojos me decían que "le amo”, pero las palabras nunca evitó sus labios..

Next MorningHoy ha sido … accidentado. Explicaré.Me desperté en el canapé plástico y mis padres fueron vestidos

ya. El desayuno estaba listo y ellos parecieron tímidos. No quise comer sin ducharme ya que ellos eran ya, entonces hice sólo que.

La ducha era limpia. Más limpia de que yo recuerda. Pero ninguna lo di mucho cuenta.

De todos modos, cuando salí a la cocina para comer con mi fa-milia, ellos estaban en el mismo punto exacto yo los había visto en antes de que yo fuera para ducharme. Ellos fueron congelados. Pero ellos me oyeron acercamiento y luego de repente ellos comenzaron a hablar. La petición como dormí y si yo tuviera hambre. Como ellos hicieron el desayuno, de repente y era extraño.

Finalmente comí. Pero mis padres eran todavía tímidos. Pero en-tonces mi padre se levantó y susurró algo en el oído de mi madre, la besó en la mejilla, entonces mí, y fue fuera. Mi madre entonces atro-pelló cerca de mí y me dijo algo muy silenciosamente sino también sondeo muy con miedo y agresivo.

“Capellán de Tu quiere ir contigo.” ella dijo.¿“Conmigo? ¿Que? Un dond-ooohh” y tuvo sentido ahora. Mi

papá quiso venir conmigo para intentar y hacer Cuba mejor otra vez. Yo iba a protestar hoy. Yo iba a tomar medidas y exigir la justicia. Y no sé por qué mi padre quiere venir conmigo, él siempre es estado

contra mí haciendo estas cosas.. Puesta yo mismo en peligro. ¡Pero él va finalmente a hacer este conmigo! Ahora me siento tanto más confi-dente que podemos hacer este. “Se hara justicia ama.” Yo tenía sin duda en mi mente este iba a trabajar.

Me dirigí a mi mamá más sobre donde encontrarlo y cuando. Pienso que ella fue abrumada con mi entusiasmo. Ella pareció tan pre-ocupada. Pero en este momento, me siento imparable.

2 days laterYo he estado protestando y tratando de entrar en el contacto con

el gobierno durante los dos días pasados. Sin parar. He dormido ape-nas. No mucho ha pasado ya que tengo último escrito francamente. Pero soy todavía muy esperanzador. Sé que hago la cosa derecha y es suficiente para mí para ganar este. Mi mamá y papá todavía hacen bien. Mi mamá parece muy con miedo todavía aun cuando intento y le digo que no hay nada para preocuparse de. Hasta ahora soy todavía esperanzador, aun cuando mi madre no es. Pero le mostraré. Este no es terminado aún.

3 weeks laterEsto ha sido más de tres semanas. Y nada. Mis esperanzas se han

debilitado. A mi sorpresa mis padres son todavía muy altos. Al menos esto es el modo que parece. No planeo irme a casa en cualquier mo-mento pronto. Probablemente no tengo un trabajo más. Pero esto es bien puedo conseguir sólo el otro. Soy con mi familia y trato de salvar este país del comunismo, del infierno. ¿Pero puedo realmente hacer todos este solo? Los amigos y conocidos como los que he hecho aquí la clase de la mirada a mí soy loco. Como soy demasiado optimista para mi propio bueno. Y pienso que comienzo a pensar esto también. Mi madre parece agitada. Ella se queda en casa todo el día con miedo e inquietante para nosotros. Venga para pensar en ello, no estoy hasta seguro lo que ella hace todo el día. La comida no es hecha alguna vez cuando llegamos a casa, la casa es siempre intocada.

5 weeks laterEl Somethings pasó. Y soy completamente aprensivo. ¿Fui a me-

didas severas sumas para intentar y cambiar una nación entera … qué pensaba yo? Este podría arruinar potencialmente mi carrera. Mi vida.

228

The Road to NowhereFui desterrado de Cuba y ahora estoy en casa en Nueva York. La colocación en mi cama que rasga tarjetas de visita entonces puedo lla-mar mis padres. No les he hablado en cuatro días. Ellos probable-mente piensan que yo he sido matado o secuestrado o detenido. Ellos tienen que ser preocupados.

Pero de todos modos pasó como este:Pero de todos modos pasó como este:Yo era con mi papá y estábamos alrededor del cuadrado de ciu-

dad, con cientos de otra protesta de gente y grito en nadie. Y luego to-dos los repentinos oigo cañonazos, gritos horripilantes y luego cuer-pos que me caen en el suelo de cemento. Agrietamiento de cráneos. Reviso y mi papá es ido, no sé donde él fue. Sé que él no me aban-donaría así estuve preocupado. Comienzo a hacer girar el tratar de buscarlo y luego todo el repentino esto va negro. Tengo un golpe en mi cabeza ahora, entonces debo haberme hecho dejado pasmado. De todos modos, siguiente cosa sé que estoy en un barco con todas mis cosas que estaban en mi casa de padres. No sé como ellos los consigu-ieron pero ellos hicieron. ¿Y tuve tanto miedo porque y si ellos hagan daño a mis padres? ¿Ellos son seguros? ¿Hacen daño a ellos?No sé cuanto yo estaba en aquel barco para, pero esto pareció a un mes y esto era el INFIERNO completo. Era oscuro y frío, y la gente gritada durante días. Esto olió como olores de cuerpo asquerosos, orina y taburete. Ellos ordenaron que todos nosotros sacáramos y consigu-iéramos nuestras cosas. Y tuve tanto miedo. Yo no sabía donde termi-naríamos. Yo podría estar en Todas partes, alguien. Pero salí y fui ce-gado por el sol. Me dijeron al andar guardado y fui eliminado pero yo no podía ver una cosa, hasta que yo pudiera distinguir finalmente la estatua de libertad. Yo sabía que yo era de casa. Era tan difícil ser fe-liz cuando soy preocupado sobre mis padres. Anduve en todo a casa. 26 millas.Con todos mis bolsos. Y parecí a una persona sin hogar.

Finalmente llegué a casa y la primera cosa que hice era toman una ducha. Una manta enorme de alivio y a casa golpe mí. Yo no podía explicarlo hasta. Un sentimiento consolador de golpe de CASA mí. Yo havent hasta desempaquetado aún pero im en mi cama todos regado. Sobre llamar a mis padres.

Encontré alguien que puede conseguírmelos sin peligro, pero ile-galmente. Los necesito.

Necesito a la gente en mi trabajo que dont como mí..Necesito a amigos.Tengo que amar

Tengo que ayudar.

230

The Road to Nowhere

Cuba

Lealtad, Separación y Decisiones Dificiles – Morgan Robinson………………………………..…………………………237

Kilómetro 367 – Gabriel Valenzuela……………………….....245Historia de la Immigración (Excerpt) – Garrett Norton..….....251

In these contrasting stories, authors Morgan Robinson, Gabriel Valenzuela, and Garrett Norton, portray the lives of a Cuban family. They struggle with daily life and the economic struggles of the coun-try, forcing them to leave. It begins with María, the matriarch, who ends up making a choice that changes her life forever. Then Leo, the child of María and Angelo, who is confronted by the epic boat journey to the United States. Finally, Angelo, who must find a way to survive in the new world of the United States.

Lealtad, Separación y Decisiones Dificiles

Morgan RobinsonI woke up before the sun rose over the water, staring at the dull

ceiling. The sky was a soft blue with pink and orange clouds. The window was cracked open and the cool breeze blew on the curtains. I could smell the salty water which was in the near distance. I sat up as my old wooden bed creaked softly. I look to my right and see a wrin-kled map, hung above the desk. The path to the United States was clearly marked. Havana, Cuba, has always been home to me, but things have been changing, forcing me to question if this is the best place for my family and I. Lately, I have been concerned that they are no longer safe and happy. I must protect them and keep us together, no matter what happens.

After the Soviet Union left a few years ago, our country began to fall apart. It was all over the news. We are losing trade, a huge num-ber of our imports and exports are no longer progressing. We are run-ning out of food and products because the farms and factories are shutting down. There is no more money, and everyday I see more and more people homeless and jobless, left with nothing. People that I have known for years, without food, a place to sleep, forced to leave their home. This brings a constant dread to me. I know that soon, something is going to change. We cannot remain like this.

I turn over in my bed and softly tap on Angelo’s shoulder. My family is lucky that he still has a job.  We are always afraid that he will lose this job, so he can’t be late to work.  He wakes up really early and drives our old Chevrolet to the farm, where he spends all day in the heat of the sun, harvesting various crops. We are always grateful. Afterwards, I go to my sons, Leo and Arturo. They are both in a deep sleep in their own beds. I shake them both and say, “Wake up! It’s time to go to school.”

Leo groans and Arturo stays silent. Then, Leo looks up at me, squinting his eyes and mumbles, “No quiero ir hoy. I just want to stay home.”

I respond, “Tienes que ir a la escuela.You need to have a decent education.” Especially if we go to the United States, I think to myself. They finish getting ready and leave the house to walk there.

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The Road to NowhereOnce everyone has left the house, I begin to do my normal jobs. I

clean, make the beds, wash the dishes and leave the house. I go to the market to get our food for the next few days. The day is warm and the clouds slowly disappear as the day gets hotter. I take off my thick sweater because of the heat. As I am walking on the dirt road, I notice that there is trash and dirty pieces of paper and plastic blowing down the streets around me. Old ratty clothes hang above on the clothing lines to dry. I am used to these sights, as I see them almost everyday. There are several people sitting outside of their homes, talking. I walk closer to the water, where the harbor is.  Graffiti covers many walls. I notice the bright colors of the spray paint and familiar designs that I see all around the city.  

I walked home before the sunset. I spend the evening making din-ner for my family, cooking black beans and rice. Money has been tight, so that is all we will be eating tonight. Leo is sitting on the floor and Arturo is doing homework in his room. I am alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, Angelo quietly opens the front door. I hear the creak from the door in the kitchen. When I look at him, I see that he has a look of disbelief on his face and immediately, I know that something is wrong. At first he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me with un-certainty. Then he says, “Algo malo ha sucedido.”

Now I am even more worried. I say, “Tell me what happened.” Angelo whispers, “Perdí mi trabajo. I was doing everything right,

but they don’t have enough money to keep paying everyone who is working there.”

I look back at him with a straight face. I don’t know what to tell him.

The next day passed by slowly and eventually my sons come back home from school. They enter the house quietly. Leo goes to his room and I ask Arturo, “Can we talk?”

He says, “Sí, mamá.”“Creo que debes tratar de encontrar un trabajo. Your father no

longer has a job and we will need a source of income,” I tell him.“I don’t want to work. Quiero ir a la escuela,” he says with a

scowl, clearly upset by my instruction. “You don’t have a choice Arturo. Tienes que trabajar,” I tell him

once again. I feel a little unsettled by telling Arturo to go find a job and keep-

ing only Leo in school. Honestly, sometimes I think that Leo has more of a future when it comes to higher skilled jobs, so he needs to

go to school. Also, since we need money, Arturo can begin working now.

The next morning, I wake up tired. I couldn’t sleep last night be-cause I was thinking about how I am going to be able to support my family, if we have no more money. With Angelo jobless, we are all not sure what to do. Even if Arturo gets a job, it might not be enough. I put together all of our money. We have barely enough money for the expensive boat ride to get to the United States. We are not sure if we will leave right now, but that seems to be the better option.

It was still late morning and the house was cold. I put the money in a jar and tucked it into the high counter in the kitchen, where no one can get to it. I heard footsteps behind me and looked to see my mother, Yelina. She has been living with us for the past few years since my father died and they lost their home. She silently sits down on one of the stools at the table. I take a deep breath and say, “Buenos días, madre.”

She nods her head and says, “Buenos días.”After a few moments of silence, I look at her and ask, “¿Qué

debo hacer? Angelo has no job and I don’t know what to tell Leo and Arturo about what will happen?”

“Lo siento, María, pero no sabía. I am here to help with anything, but I think that the best thing you can do is leave Cuba,” she says.

“No quiero salir de nuestra casa. Siempre hemos vivido aquí. I don’t think that we could be as happy somewhere so different.”

“María, I cannot answer all of your questions because I do not know myself. Estoy seguro que todo resultará bien al final. In the end the right decision will be made.”

The conversation with my mother made me feel better, but it all also brought up more questions in my head. I know that no one can answer all of them, but they remain on my mind.

The next morning was typical. My long time neighbor, Lola, just told us  about all the people leaving Cuba to go to the U.S. We invited her over to eat breakfast with us since her family was not home. We have been living next to her for more years than we can remember and she told us that her and her family will be leaving Cuba to go to the United States. She saw this in the newspaper and decided that she would tell us as well. The United States was accepting twenty-thou-sand Cubans to legally immigrate there. A deal unknown to the public was made between the countries. The United States had so much

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The Road to Nowheremore to offer than Cuba. I stayed up late thinking about what she had told me. My mind kept wandering, thinking whether or not that would be the best decision.

Arturo, Leo, and I walked to the market which was near the har-bor. We were going to get some more food for dinner and since they didn’t have school that day, they both wanted to come with me. The overcast clouds darkened the sky and it was foggy. The sun was nowhere to be seen. I watched Leo and Arturo walking in front of me, deep in a conversation. I looked at people rushing around and the cars zooming past us on the streets. I could smell the oil and gasoline that was dripping from the cars and spilling into the streets. Most of the cars were old 60s cars but since they were really well kept, they looked alluring. We had to cross a very long, busy street. The roads were slick from the oil and the slight drizzle of rain. Arturo crossed first, with Leo slightly behind him. As I was walking, I noticed that they didn’t look both ways before crossing and higher up on the hill there were cars still speeding down. Everything seemed to slow down as I watched a car continue driving. It looked shiny and well kept, but it was coming down the steep hill way too fast. They were shouting and screaming inside the car, waving their arms outside the windows.

“The brakes are broken! ¡El coche no se detendrá!”Arturo was too focused to pay attention to the car. I screamed,

“¡Ten cuidado!”I ran into the street as fast as I could. I reached my arms out in

front of me to push them out of the way, but my hands only reached Leo. In front of my eyes, I watched the car slam into Arturo and his body flung forward onto the road. My heart stopped. The car lost con-trol from the impact and hit the pole on the side of the road. It caused a loud bang and started smoking. I looked back at Arturo. He was ly-ing on the ground face down, blood slowly pooling around him. I ran over to him and knelt down. Blinking through the tears, I turned him over and placed my ear on his chest, listening for that slight rise and fall of his chest to let me know that he was alive. I only heard silence.

I mumbled, out of breath, “He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. This isn’t happening.”

Leo was still several feet away from me. The look of shock still on his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. Leo came over to Ar-turo, hardly able to walk. I sat in the middle of the road holding my dead son in one arm, while Leo leaned against me on the other. Peo-ple began to surround me and the cars all stopped. Everything else

that happened was a blur and I can’t remember it at all. I remember the guilt and the breaking feeling in my chest. Arturo was dead be-cause I did not reach him in time and Leo will forever be scarred from watching his brother die, right in front of him.

A few days later, my heart seemed to break all over again. Early in the morning, my family and I walked to the cemetery, tears in our eyes. I had to force myself to pick up my feet to take each step. The sky was dark and cloudy. I could smell the rain, knowing that it would come soon. I saw the white coffin where my son was. I got to see him one last time before the coffin was lowered into the huge hole in the ground. Prayers were said and after the dirt filled the hole, we covered his resting place with flowers. The coffin and funeral service was ex-pensive, but my mother helped give us money to afford it. She was very close to Arturo and after his death, she seemed to shut down and the light that was once in her eyes was no longer there. She knew he needed a proper funeral.

We paid the rest of our savings for the boat ride. We needed to get to the dock before dawn, is what the smuggler tells us. We meet with him earlier in the day, I feel very skeptical. I don’t trust him, but what other choice do I have? We drove back to the house in the early evening. Yelina goes to the kitchen and I walk over to her. I ask her, “¿Estás listo para salir?”

She looks back at me with a blank face. Then suddenly her face drops and she looks somber. “I’m not going to the United States.”

With disbelief I tell her, “Usted tiene que ir. You can’t stay here. There is nothing left in Cuba.”

“No puedo hacer este viaje. My old age would slow me down to much.”

“Mother, I don’t want to leave you. How am I supposed to know if you will be okay or not?”

“Do not worry María. You will be okay. You and your family will get to the United States. A better life will come your way.”

I turn away, uneasy of the choice that she is making. I will miss my mother dearly. Although, I know that my mother will stay and protect the spirit of Arturo. I know that when I am no longer alive and breathing, I will reunite with them once again.

After all of this, I know that I can not stay here any longer. Ev-erytime I see something that reminds me of my son, I break down and

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The Road to Nowherethink of what happened all over again. I hold the necklace that his girlfriend gave to him a few months ago. It’s hard in my hand and the black and brown beads are cold to the touch. He wore it around every-where and everytime I saw it, I told him to put it away. I know that love doesn’t last forever and I never want to see my son’s heart bro-ken. Now, I can’t put the necklace down. I see it and it reminds me of Arturo and the guilt that keeps following me around. I decide to bring it with me.

The next morning the final decision is made. We leave before dawn, long before the birds begin chirping and the city wakes up. Our few belongings are packed, as they have been for days. I wake Leo and Angelo up, feeling the absence of Arturo. It’s time to leave and we don’t really know what is going to happen next. We carry our be-longings in the dark. I can hardly see my feet in front of me as we stumble down the hill to the harbor. As we walk, I see people joining us. Many are families and the children look lost and confused, some with tears in their eyes. I feel the crisp air against my face. Everything is silent and I long to feel the warmth from the sun on my skin. Leo and Angelo walk beside me. Leo has a solemn look on his face. I can almost feel his negative energy coming across.

I try to comfort him, “No se preocupe, que va a estar bien.”He gives me a look mixed with sadness and anger. “Todavía no

quiero ir. Este es mi país.”“Lo sé. I don't want to leave either, but you have to understand

that we don’t have a choice,” I say, feeling sad that I have to take my son away, from his friends and the rest of his family. This is all he has ever known. I know he is scared to leave and he doesn’t know what will happen next. I wish that Arturo could be here with us.

The cemetery where my son is buried is on the way to the harbor. I picked flowers earlier from a field. When we get there, I walk over to the place where my son is buried. I try to keep myself together, but then I fell to my knees beside the grave. I can’t lose my son forever, but I know that I have to say goodbye. Tears stream down my face. Through my tears, I gently place the flowers on the freshly turned dirt. I say goodbye to my son, Arturo, for the final time. Angelo and Leo join and kneel beside me. After several minutes of silence, we stand up and walk to the harbor.

Once we are on the boat, I look back one last time. The boat be-gins to slowly drift away. The sun begins to rise and I hear people whispering and some are sobbing. I feel that I am leaving so much be-

hind. I miss my mother already, I still think that she could have come with us, but I suppose it was better for her to stay. We don’t know what kinds of troubles and hardships we will face. I turn to the hori-zon, facing the wind, knowing that whatever comes our way, we will get through it. This new land will change everything for us.

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The Road to Nowhere

Kilómetro 367

Gabriel ValenzuelaDía 1 :Su nombre era Arturo Fernandez. Es el nombre que le dieron mis

padres.  Cada vez que recuerdo como se murió mi hermano, recuerdo todos los momentos que tuve con él. Desde cuando nosotros jugábamos en la calle, hasta cuando caminabamos cada día a la es-cuela. El se murio en un accidente de carro. Mi madre, María nos llevó caminando a la parte de la ciudad. Pasan muchos carros. Era una bajada,en la calle había un carro muy brilloso, “Mis frenos nos sirven, no puedo parar el carro,”  gritaba el carro nerviosamente.  Yo estaba junto  Arturo, mi madre me alcanzó a empujar para que me salvara la vida. Antes de que lo atropellaron me dijo su último adiós. Su cuerpo fue volando toda la calle. Se murió por el impacto que se dio en el cráneo.

Hay mucha corrupción en Cuba. El gobierno es muy pobre ahora. Ya nos vamos a ir a un lugar diferente, a Miami, en los Estados Unidos. Mi madre se quiere ir por el presidente, Fidel Castro. La cor-rupción ha afectado mi país. Los Soviéticos ya se fueron de Cuba, 80% de los importes en Cuba eran de ahi y ahora eso se ha perdido. Hay mucha pobreza y mucha gente sin trabajo. Mi madre y mi padre están batallando a ganar dinero, mi padre perdió su trabajo, ya perdi-mos la casa y no tenemos suficiente dinero para comer unos días. Pero yo no quiero dejar a mis amigos, mis primos.

Yo no me quiero ir. Yo he vivido aquí, en Havana, toda mi vida. Llegamos al puerto para irnos a los Estados Unidos por el océano at-lantico. El paisaje es muy largo en barco. Muchos se mueren por que-riendo cruzar. La gente está llorando, dando sus últimas despedidas.

“Cuidate, te quiero mucho. Yo estaré bien, vas a poder hacer lo que tu quieras. Vas a estar contento en los Estados Unidos,” mi abuela me dice.

“¿Y mis amigos?” le preguntó.“En los Estados Unidos vas hacer muchos amigos, que te van a

querer.” le contesté .“Te amo,” le digo una ultimá me vez. “Yo también te amo, cuidate,” mientras me abraza.

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The Road to NowhereElla me da un papel y un collar. Pongó el papel en mi bolsillo

izquierdo y luego me pongó el collar. Este es el último recuerdo que tengo de mi abuela y de Cuba. Este collar va ser lo que haga que re-cuerde a Cuba, en mi pecho. Las lágrimas se me caen al cachete mien-tras inhalo el aire con todos mis mocos en mi nariz. Ella estuvo allí por toda mi vida, me cuidaba cuando mi madre no podía. Nos llama el señor que nos va llevar en el viaje. Le di un último abrazo a mi abuela. Caminamos detrás del el señor que nos iba a llevar durante todo el camino. Entregamos el boleto para entrar. Es un barco bien chiquito. Tocó la orilla de el barco, es madera, cuando me subí se oye los truenos de la madera. Hay una fila muy larga para entrar a estos barcos. Los barcos son para 15 personas, pero hay 23 en el mio. Di mi último adiós, al país que yo crecí. Muchas memorias que dejaré aquí. La persona que nos iba a llevar se salé. Le da a un hombre un mapa y quita las cadenas. Empuja el barco y dice que se vayan derecho. Se-gundos después de desembarcar un señor en nuestro barco empezó a llorar. Otra señora está llorando para regresar. Se avienta al agua, no sabe nadar. Nadie se arriesgó a aventarse al agua a salvarla porque el-los se pueden morir también. Se muere minutos después. Todos están en pánico, no hablan, no hay nada que decir. Por diez minutos nadie dijo nada. Ni una palabra. 22 personas.

Le pregunto a mi madre, “¿Estarémos bien?”“ Si….creo,”  respondí nerviosamente.Estoy nervioso por mi vida, podré morir en unos días. Puedo es-

tar un día vivo y el siguiente no. Ni siquiera sé qué tan largo estará el viaje. Después de preguntarle a mi madre, todos empiezan a hablar, todos están nerviosos. Estamos a una distancia que ya no podemos ver la isla. Nadie sabe en verdad dónde ir. Todos en el barco vemos el mapa, pero no nos ayuda en verdad. Atrás del mapa hay una nota, dice, Suerte. Todos empiezan a llorar. Estamos perdidos en un océano. Yo siento que soy el único en este barco que no está llorando. Me siento seguro con mis padres. Abrió el papel que me dio mi abuela, dice lo siguiente:

Querido Leo,

Te voy a extrañar muchísimo. QUiero que cuides mucho a tu madre y a tu padre. Ya se que no te querías ir. Confia en mi te va gus-tar muchisimo ayi. Hay muchas cosas en qué hacer, puedes ir a Dis-neyworld. Esta hermoso, es como las películas. Hay muchas luces, to-

dos están contentos en los estados unidos. Cuando se murió tu her-mano, me dolió, me sentí muy triste, yo tambien lo amaba. El mundo no puede ser perfecto. Cuando eras niño, recuerdo que yo te cuidaba, junto a tu hermano. Pero necesitas entender que aquí en Cuba el país es comunista, los soviéticos se fueron, la economia aqui en Cuba no es buena. Cuba se irá para abajo, por eso te debes de ir. No sé si te po-dré ver otra vez. Este collar que te doy va ser para que me recuerdes. Eres un niño muy bueno, te extrañare.

Besos,

Tu abuela.                                                                            

Por primera vez en el barco entero empezó a llorar. Mi madre y mi padre me abrazan. Mientras la luz del día se va muchos empiezan a dormir. Yo no pude dormir. Veo a mi madre dormida, la abrazó y le dió un beso en la frente.

Día 2:Me levanto cansado y hambriento. Dos personas ya no están en el

barco. Pensamos que se suicidaron. 20 personas. Ya se murieron tres personas en solamente dos días. Nadie sabe quién va morir siguiente. Casi nadie en el barco se conoce. Nadien habla, nadie dice absoluta-mente nada. No estoy seguro cuánto falta de camino.

Vemos el mapa y un señor grita, “Yo sé por dónde ir,”Todos están confundidos. “¿Pero cómo?” le preguntan al señor.“Yo pescaba por el Atlántico cuando yo era joven. Yo iba cada

día por aquí,” dice el señor en una voz oxidada. El señor es mayor de edad, como en sus 60s. Todos se quedan

callados. Yo sigo cansado y tengo mucha hambre. Todos estamos nerviosos pero el señor que nos dio esperanza. El señor nos dice que solamente tenemos que navegar al norte y un poco al este. El es la es-peranza de nuestra salvación. El sabe todo del Atlántico.

Día 3:El señor ya no está allí. No esta alli. Nadie sabe a donde se fue.

Nosotros pensamos que le dio un ataque cardiaco y se cayó del barco. Se murieron cuatro más. El barco continúa con solamente quince per-

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The Road to Nowheresonas. Todos en el barco están nerviosos, no saben si viviremos. No sabemos a donde ir. Estamos perdidos en el Atlántico.

Yo estoy muy aburrido. Mis padres están platicando con un señor. Él es de Santiago de Cuba y se vino a Havana para poder irse a los Estados Unidos. Él va a los Estados Unidos porque tiene familia allá. Nos dice que la razón que no se fue a Santiago es porque el viaje desde allí es mucho más peligroso, como se necesita navegar por más islas. El señor se llama Alfredo. Mucha gente en Cuba se ha querido ir desde que los Soviéticos se fueron. Ya no hay el dinero que antes había. Los Estados Unidos abrió las manos a los Cubanos que querían ir a los Estados Unidos a vivir, a los que quieren una mejor vida, les darán los papeles para poder vivir allí. Este noche fue muy tranquila comparada a las otras. No había tantas muertes y muchos platicaban durante el día. No sabemos cuántos días o semanas nos falta de camino.

Día 4: Estamos cansados. No tenemos agua o comida. Todos estamos

hambrientos en el barco, sin agua para beber. Seguimos llendo al norte. El barco tiene una brújula para todos. Es lo que estamos usando para que nos lleve al lugar correcto. Pero la verdad es que nadie sabe a dónde vamos. Todos las personas que saben por dónde ir han morido. En el barco veo a una niña que nunca he visto en mi vida. Élla es una niña muy bonita. Viene con su madre y con su padre.

Me acerco a ella. “¿Hola, cómo te llamas?” le preguntó con una voz muy nerviosa.

Élla sonríe y me dice, “María”“Gustó conocerte María, yo me llamo Leo, mi madre se llama

María,” le respondió en una manera feliz, “¿Y para qué vienes a los Estados Unidos?” le preguntó.

“Queremos una mejor vida, aquí en Cuba, la economía es muy mala,” élla responde rápidamente.

Me regreso con mis padres mientra le digo adiós a María, “¿A donde fuiste?” Mi madre me pregunta.

“Fui ha hablar con una niña en el barco. También se llama María como tú,” le explicó.

“Bien, mijo, no quiero que te separes mucho,” élla me dice.Esa niña en el barco es muy bonita.  Élla tambien es amable. Le

quiero hablar más.

Día 5:Estoy en Cuba, jugando con mis amigos. La risa de mis primos,

mi abuela y madre nos ven jugar. Todos felices. Mi hermano y yo es-tábamos jugando juntos también, felices por la vida. Vamos a un puerto con la familia, un terremoto pasa yo y mi hermano nos caemos al agua mi hermano se está muriendo, como cuando se murió mi her-mano, veo a mi madre y me grita. ¿Estás bien? Despierta. Despierta. Despierta.  Y yo me quedo en una cara muy confundida, nose que está pasando.

“¿Qué te pasá?” me levanta mi madre nerviosamente.“Una pesadilla muy fuerte,” le respondió, mientras lloró.Sentí que me estaba muriendo en la pesadilla. Mi hermano y yo

nos íbamos a morir. Era como si fuera real. Mucha gente en el barco está deshidratada, con muchísima hambre. Tres se han morido de no poder tomar ningun tipo de líquido. Unos tienen tanta hambre que se están comiendo lo que trajeron, algo que pueda tener en su estomago. Otros están tomando agua del océano. Mi madre me dijo que no me tome la agua de allí porque no es saludable para nada que te puede matar. Fue cierto porque la mayoría de la gente que se tomó el agua del océano se murió horas después.

Se oye un grito muy fuerte en el barco, suena como María. Su madre le dio un último abrazo y se aventó del barco. La madre no sabia nadar. Fue la primera persona que era un padre y que se matara. Fue la primera persona que murió que venía acompañada. Por la se-gunda vez  el barco se puso en silencio. Nadie estaba hablando para nada. Le di un abrazo a María mientras lloraba, el padre se quedó en pánico, sin palabras, no llora, no dice nada. Yo veo a María y me da las gracias. Yo no estoy seguro porque.

Una tormenta pega cuando empieza a oscurecer. Todos nos agar-ramos de uno al otro. De una ola a la otra nos vamos en lado a lado para que no se voltee el barco. Yo estoy sentado junto a María y mis padres. María me da un abrazo, y yo agarro a mi madre. El barco columpiando de derecha a izquierda, agua en mi cabello. Tenía el col-lar que me dio mi abuela en mi mano y casi se me cai por el movimiento de el barco, lo alcancé con mi mano en el último mo-mento.  Yo cierro mis ojos y me duermo en medio de la tormenta.

Día 6:

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The Road to NowhereMe levanto sonriendo. Vemos las gaviotas en el cielo. Es Mi-

ami. Por la primera vez en el barco, estamos sonriendo. Todos aplaudimos dándonos abrazos. De días en estar con hambre y con sed último. Después de días de estar en el océano, cansados, hambrientos. Por primera vez en el viaje veo que mi padre, mi madre, todos en el barco están felices. Con suerte estamos en Miami la brújula nos hizo mucho de ayuda.

Yo sonrio, le digo a mi madre, “Miami se ve grande, hermoso, creo que me gustaría aquí, haré nuevos amigos.”

Mi madre me da un abrazo. Sonrie. Por la primera vez de mucho tiempo, se ve feliz. Al empezar de este viaje yo no pensé que me iba gustaría aquí en los Estados Unidos, pero viéndolo bien creo que puedo ser feliz aquí.

Mientras nos acercamos a la tierra, lo más bonito que se ve, es como las historias que nos ha dicho nuestros maestros.  La policia de inmigracion nos reciben, con los brazos abiertos. Éllos están son-riendo. Nos transportan a un barco más seguro. Nos dan cobijas y co-mida. Mucha gente están comiendo como animales, yo no más veo la comida, no quiero mucha, me pongo a pensar la vida en Miami. Va ser muy grandiosa.

Yo veo a María, “Me gustas?” le digo en una voz bien nerviosa. Élla me dice, “ A mi tambien me gustas mucho, me has gustado

desde la primera vez que me has visto.” Yo le respondo, “En Havana yo tenia una novia, era muy bonita,

como tu le di su último abrazo y le di su adiós a élla, luego te conocí a ti y me empezaste a gustar mucho, espero que nos podamos ver seguido. Te quiero mucho María.”

Élla me da un beso, nuestro primer beso, un beso que significa mucho, el primer beso que significa felicidad, y amor. Mientras, doy mi primer paso en los Estados Unidos agarro mi collar y lo beso. El collar que me dio mi abuela en la Habana.

Historia de la Immigración (Excerpt)

Garrett NortonI hear the seagulls and the sound of water surrounding me. I feel

the warm sun, shining upon my skin. I’ve experienced so much out here in the Atlantic Ocean. There are many people on the same jour-ney as myself and mi familia. I can’t see much, as my eyes start to blur and I start to feel dizzy. All of the sudden, I hear a loud yell. It sounds to be someone who is also on his way to Miami, Florida. It seems he was yelling out of joy. He is someone that is one the entire journey, as everyone else here. We’re all here for the same reason. Everyone was losing their jobs back in Cuba, and there was no money left. This journey has been the longest and the hardest experience, I’ve ever had to endure. This is a huge change for the better.  My eyes start to focus on the view in front of me. I can’t believe it. I hear ev-eryone starting to cheer. There is no question as to why everyone is this happy. From a distance, I see land. Florida, which is now right in front of my eyes. Me siento aliviado.

We approached the beautiful land they call, Florida. We’ve made it, to the U.S. Estoy tan feliz de que por fin estamos aquí , especially after all that has happened along the way. Mi familia is now seguro after all. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they weren’t. They mean the world to me. I promised to always keep them safe and be there for them. Before we get our bags and get off the boat, I take my wife and son's hands and we take a glance around. We appreciate the beautiful view of Florida, what the U.S. gives us now.  

We finally get off the boat, bags in hand. “So what do you think?” I ask my wife and son. My son looks surprised, but doesn’t re-spond because of the hardships we’ve experienced during this jour-ney. Not only that, but he also had to leave his friends back in Cuba. He’s been through so much these past couple of years, mostly because of what happened to his brother and getting through this journey. He never really wanted to go to Florida, but we didn't have much of a choice. It will be better for his future. He will have a much better life in the long run, now that we are here.

We find the nearest hotel, close to the beach. We’ll have to stay here for the next couple of nights, because we have nowhere else to

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The Road to Nowherego. I have been saving up money from Cuba so we could afford food for the next couple of weeks, and a place for us to stay. When we were back in Cuba, I had saved a couple thousand because, I knew how expensive it was going to be here. The job that I had was able to provide me for now. Right before we left Cuba, I had to plan how all this was going to work for us. We walk in and right away I feel a cold breeze approach, which was nice because it was such a hot day. I look around the area and start to walk over the counter, to where the cashier was sitting.

Cuba

Por Qué Se Fue – Garrett Layton………...…………….……. 255La Sombra Cubana – Connor Partida……….…..……............265Las Mentiras Malas – Bijan Siry…………………..………….273

A common trait in many Latin American countries is the truculent relationship between citizen and government. Based in 1960’s Cuba, and written through the unique expressions of Bijan Siry, Connor Partida, and Garrett Layton, the authors examine the impact a cor-rupt and totalitarian government can have on the lives of their citi-zens, and how it relates to a modern society. Little has changed in Cuba in the past fifty years, but these short stories are sure to trans-form your understanding of what life in Cuba can predestine. Enjoy these interpretations of Cuban life, and try to understand the essence behind the words.

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The Road to Nowhere

Por Qué Se Fue

Garrett LaytonThe ground was slippery. Every time someone jumped in, the re-

sultant splash soaked the ground and sent older women darting for cover, not wanting their brightly painted toenails to get wet. The gated backyard smelled smoky, in part because of the meat barbecuing off to the side of the crowded pool. Sweet guava glaze was slathered on everything that came out of the small black charcoal grill. The smoky scent could also be blamed on the cloud of cigar smoke that hung over the backyard, typical of a Cuban party in the seventies.

“Ay, Luís, ven métete en la piscina,” someone called from the overflowing pool.

“No, I’ll try to leave at least a little bit of the water in there for you to swim in!”

The resounding laughter from the guests in attendance was well taken by Luís, who took his size lightly. He had always carried a few extra pounds; they gave him his “well rounded personality” he liked to joke. He had even been accused of being pyknic.

Luís strolled across the slightly browned lawn, nursing a pina co-lada and taking steady inhales from a stubby cigar. Scanning the crowd, he glimpsed many smiles, which brought one in turn to his face. It was common knowledge Luís Ruiz lived a comfortable life, and he enjoyed helping less fortunate friends to do the same. They were, after all, each of them deserving of equal opportunities. He had simply spent his opportunities more wisely. Not everyone had done the same. Others questioned how it was possible to be that wise.

A man Luís recognized by face, but not by name, stumbled in to him, trying to start a conversation. His words slurred slightly, and it was difficult for him to form his sentence.

“Luís! Es una gran fiesta! I didn’t know you were so well off!”Luís responded gracefully. “Gracias, he tenido suerte.”“More than lucky, I should say. Your house is large, your pool is

clean, and your grass is closer to alive than anyone else’s on the is-land. Where did your success come from?”

“You don’t look new to our town off the coast. You know that the promises of the government for free meals have been sustained.

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The Road to NowhereWe are all well off here as marxists. The rest comes simply from my wise investments. No hablemos business sin embargo. Permítanme presentarles a un amigo.”

The stranger seemed to accept this transition, and was pleased to meet Luís’s friend, Amélia. As the two stumbled off together, Luís sighed a breath of relief. His extra wealth was somewhat of an ongo-ing investment, and he didn’t want anyone else getting wind of that. The exchange hit close to home. Another man would have taken more drastic measures to ensure secrecy, but  Luís, greedy as he was, was also kind. The drunk guest would forget their conversation by morn-ing, he was certain. Luís turned back to the party, smiling as he took a sip from his drink. He knew life could be a lot worse.

“¡Servando, tire el coche un poco más lejos!”Today was carwash day. In the small community, everyone

cleaned cars on the same day, and would call out to each other from their driveways. In the tenements, everyone’s cars, lined up on the street, would be splashed with sudsy water from a shared bucket, dried by shared towels, and admired by neighbors. In the larger house neighborhoods, Everyone but Luís and Servando had open garage doors, to talk about upcoming plans, events, and take their mind off the impending depression they would all fall back into after the after-noon came to a close. The relentless cutbacks and restrictions to their freedom always looming over them, like a thick wet cloud ready to clap with thunder and flood from the heavens.

Yet today was carwash day. Everyone was nothing but smiles. Not that Luís or Servando could see. Luís had his car rolled into the garage and the entry shut, so he and Servando could clean behind closed doors. Here, his own worries, about business, loneliness, and sadness could melt away, and be replaced by the shimmering beauty that was his coche.

“I want to impress at my meeting tomorrow! We must have this car looking magnificent again!”

Everyone had enchanting cars in Luís’s town. Rustic, worn, and elegant, they were the norm in Cuba, where now-old embargos had blocked citizens from getting anything new. Luís had, however, something that truly outshined his neighbors. With his business so prosperous, he had given subtle augmentations to his car. Unnoticed by most, the well conditioned leather seats were also stitched with an Italian thread. The white wall tires weren’t uncommon, but the dull

rims that were all but the exclusive look of cars in town had been re-placed with shiny chrome.

“Expect us to be cleaning extra next week! You recall what let-ting my baby sit in the marina parking lot can do. That salty air is quite the fiend!”

Luís enjoyed the finer things in life. He spoiled himself, and as kind as he was, he was just as greedy. Greed was an uncommon trait for a communist nation, but he hid it well. No one yet had picked up on the enhancements on his car, but Luís did catch the odd stare driv-ing down the dirt-lined streets. He assured his friends the rims were found in the back of his parents garage, and he simply spent a lot of time keeping it all clean. Almost everyone believed him.

“Necesito más.”The plea came from an associate of Luís. The pair was sitting on

the bow of a yacht, looking back at the small patch of land bouncing along the darkening horizon that was Luís’s tropical abode. A light wind blew them further away from home, and towards what was left above of the sun above the water. The boat belonged to Ronaldo, who was taking Luís out for a ride. He was also the connection to the United States, which played a large role for Luís.

“I can’t make more this quickly, without becoming a larger oper-ation. We need to keep things small and quiet.”

Luís wasn’t ready to turn his business into a full scale operation, especially in Cuba. He was already making plenty of money, why would he need more? Besides, the man from his party had bumped into Luís earlier today. He had a look of recognition in his eyes, and acted shifty when confronted by Luís, who asked if he was feeling better. The run-in left Luís feeling conflicted. He could never leave his home and money, but what if the man had spoken to others? If people started asking questions, he could attract a lot of unwanted at-tention. If he were to hire more people, he would be placing a lot of trust in people he didn’t know. Perhaps if he had married, it could have become a family business. But it was just him and Servando. That’s how it had always been.

“My clients want more, and faster, Luís. They don’t care what kind of operation you have down here. They are also willing to pay quite a bit more, if you can reach the level of what they’re asking.”

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The Road to NowhereNow Luís was reconsidering. He knew he needed to be careful,

but he also knew how great more money could be. No. He didn’t need more. The profit he turned now was more than enough, and if Ronaldo’s clients weren’t satisfied then so be it.

“Ronaldo, no mas. Estoy bien con el beneficio que hago en este momento.”

Now it was Ronaldo's turn to think. He enjoyed working with Luís, but he had to fill orders, and if someone else was willing to do a faster production of the sales, then he would revisit the idea of leaving Luís. For now, he was going to have to convince Luís to work just a little bit faster.

“Luís, por favor. Usted sabe que tengo para traer de vuelta al menos un poco más de nuestro habitual.”

“But Ronaldo, you know I don’t have that much right now.”“Perhaps next time?”Luís accepted that, eventually, his production level would have to

increase. If he didn’t fulfill Ronaldo’s orders, then he would find someone else. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it would have to happen for him to continue his life the way he lived it.

“Si. Intentaré.” It made him queasy saying it. Luís didn’t like feeling out of control.

Ronaldo and Luís were on the same page,whether they wanted to be or not. The two were prepared to increase production. Until they heard the rumbling of another engine.

“Who is that? Quien es?”“No se. I don’t know.” The two could barely make out the people aboard another small

boat in the half-light, about a quarter of a nautical mile away. The five men in dark uniforms stared back at them, quietly observing what was clearly intended to be a secret meeting. Both vessels knew that some-thing was wrong. The opposing craft drifted past Ronaldo’s boat, making a wide arc and heading back towards Cuba. Neither Ronaldo nor Luís spoke for a long time, watching what could very well be the end of their operation shrink into the horizon.

“I can’t be selling cigars anymore,” Luís confided in Servando as he rolled another cigar and packed it away in a dark wood box for Ronaldo. It was more of a grievance than any real decision. He was worried, but unsure of how to go forward. He still wasn’t ready to leave the island, and more importantly, his money. This was the life

he was accustomed to, and he didn’t want to give that up. It wasn’t time to run. Not yet.

And yet, he felt like the town was infested with Policía Nacional Revolucionaria. They spoke in hushed tones, and spoke to people Luís believed to be his friends. They looked at him stiffly, and as if they were unsure of what to do in his presence. Luís had a feeling the PNR wasn’t in town for water conservation, another of their many du-ties. He kept to himself more, and stopped throwing fiestas. He didn’t want anyone at his house, for fear of someone stumbling upon a piece of evidence that could prove he was doing something wrong.

In Cuba, all production was supposed to be handled and con-trolled by the government. In this way, no business tycoons could rise above the single class, and everyone stayed equal. But Luís, as a child, was taught by his father how to roll cigars. They grew tobacco in the back garden, so that Luís’s father could smoke his own, home-made cigars. After his parents were gone, Luís continued growing the leaves, as a connection to his past. He sold them in back alleys to his school friends, before eventually meeting Ronaldo through the black market, which Servando had brought him to when he began helping Luís as his personal valet. Ronaldo was kind, and didn’t take advan-tage of Luís. He bought at a fair price, and gave Luís gifts from America, a place he talked of fondly. If he were to ever leave, Luís thought that was where he would go. But Luís didn’t want to think about leaving. He wanted everything to just go back to normal.

Thursday was calm. Sun warmed the gazebo floor panels, which were smooth and unpainted. A project, Servando and Luís had worked on in their younger years. When the house was new and had but an empty backyard. Together, they had filled the backyard with art, gardens, and happy memories. The gazebo was Luís’s favorite place to sit, smoke a cigar, and drink tea in the fading afternoon. As the shadows got longer, Luís could listen to the birds chirp and the leaves rustle, and reflect on the week. He thought about what went well, and what didn’t. He could plan for the next week, and some-times he would roll cigars for Ronaldo. Tomorrow evening, he would be at the local pub, to talk with the other townspeople, and keep up good relations. Everyone went to “O Pico” on Friday night, but he had missed last week when he saw police standing near the tavern door.

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The Road to NowhereHe was confident, however, that the dust had settled with them.

No one was after him, and he was ready to return to his place in the community. As he sat inside the white pillared gazebo, he decided he would host a fiesta next weekend, and open his garage on carwash day. It was time to return to normal.

○○○

O Pico was starting to quiet down. It had been a lively night, filled with laughter and consistently refilled glasses. The band had a new clarinetist, who was still learning how to play songs, and missed a note occasionally. Luckily, no one could tell, as they could only hear the squeals of laughter peeling out of their own mouth. To them, it sounded like the Cuba’s finest salsa orchestra. It added a flair of glamour to the evening. For dinner, the chef had prepared a new dish, achiote marinated chicken, and everyone loved it. There was plenty of fresh lime to squeeze on top, adding to everyone’s mouth full of ex-quisite flavor. As the night wore on, people began to leave for home, stumbling out the door in twos and threes, leaning on each other and grinning ear to ear.

Everyone was happy to have Luís back. He was a big part of their lives, and whether they suspected him of crimes or not, he improved each of their lives, just by being in it. As reclusive as he had become, they had missed him. Luís was glad to be back as well. He had missed his amigos just as much as they missed him. He stayed well into the night, with nowhere to go the next day, and no more worries about be-ing caught unprepared. The bartender continued passing him endless refills until he could barely ask for more. He would simply gesture to the glass, and the bartender would know what to do. Luís couldn’t re-member the last time he had this much fun. He realized he needed to go out more often. In fact, this weekend would be the perfect time for a fiesta.

This night, however, was winding down, until finally only Luís was there. Even the bartender had gone home, trusting Luís to lock the door behind him when he left. Luís swirled what was left of the dark concoction in front of him on the high table, and then pushed it away. He sighed happily. And then he fell out of his seat.

The stool was kicked out from under him, and his face slammed onto the floor. Then he flew back up again, pulled up by a thick cord around his neck. Luís clawed at the invisible assailant, trying to get

back to his feet and take a breath of air, but the attacker was pulling him backwards, dragging his heels on the floor. He was swung around, and slammed into the wall. The pictures hanging above him fell, spreading broken glass on the floor. Dazed, he tried to roll over and get back to his feet. But a steel toed boot found him in the gut, and Luís convulsed, bringing him almost to tears. He was lifted up again, and again he felt a thick cord being wrapped around his neck.

“Servando! ¡salva mi vida!” Luís rasped. But it was no use, Servando had stepped out, to get the car and

pick up Luís at the bar. There was no one there to help him. His greed had caught up to him. It was now that he truly regretted his reclusive-ness, his inability to commit to a family. No one had loved him enough to marry him. Obesity and greed were hardly attractive traits. The cord tightened, squeezing the life out of Luís. He closed his eyes, to stop the tears from falling to his cheeks. He took one last, precious breath.

He took another breath, and another. The garrotting had ceased. He could breath again. Luís looked around, searching for his savior. Behind him, on the floor, was a lean man, dark with unkempt brown hair, as though he was always outside. He was dressed in a black wool turtleneck, which was splattered with what Luís could only assume was his dark blood. The man was face down, and the back of his head had collapsed in, due to whomever had saved Luís. There were a pair of familiar black shoes next to the assailant. Luís followed the shoes up a body, until he reached Servando’s harrowed face.  A look of painful disgust was painted on his ghostly countenance. The blood was absent from his face. He was staring downwards, but not at the corpse below him. Luís looked to Servando’s hands. In one, a splin-tered table leg was grasped tightly, with whitened knuckles. The side was dented and bloodied, and was clearly to blame for the crater in the dead man’s head. The other hand was clutching the shaft of a large kitchen knife, which had been plunged into Servando’s stomach. He dropped to his knees slowly, taking short, weary breaths. Luís rushed to his side.

Luís began to speak, but Servando cut him off, “I feared I was too late to save you, sir.”

“Your timing is the least of anyone’s concerns, Servando. ¿Estás bien?”

“No, mi maestro. No creo que voy a vivir a través de la noche.”

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The Road to Nowhere“What will I do without you? Usted es mi roca , mi único com-

pañero aquí .”“It is no matter. You can’t stay here anymore. You must leave.

More of them will come,” Servando coughed, and gestured towards the assassin he was laying next to. He was probably right, but it wasn’t the time to talk about this. Tonight, Servando’s last night, Luís would stay with him. They didn’t speak, for fear of weakening Ser-vando more. They held each other in an embrace, as his breaths be-came further and further apart. Their eyes were closed, and they were unknowingly both praying to the same god.

Servando took a shuddering breath, cutting in to the prolonged si-lence. He whispered, “You must go to America. Save yourself. You can live on for the both of us.”

Luís choked out a response, “You will always be with me. You will endure through me.” With that, they mumbled promises, too quiet for other ears. Their friendship had been one that Luís would never, could never, find again. Servando exhaled, and was then silent. Luís was now utterly alone.

○○○

The birds were screaming above him. The waves crashed vio-lently. Wind threw sand into his face, but Luís stood still. The indig-nation didn’t bother him. His eyes didn’t waver from the horizon. He took a drag off his cigar.

It had been three days since Servando’s death. Luís had buried his friend beside his parents. His family was now all together again, except for him. They were safe from what he could only assume were government employed mercenaries. The government had found him, and they were clearly displeased. Luís wouldn’t be extirpated. He wouldn’t be buried with the rest of his departed relatives. With luck, and Servando’s spirit on his side, he hoped to make it off the uncom-promising island. He would make it to his new refuge;  America.

Ronaldo’s boat popped up on the horizon. Luís put out his cigar, and picked up his suitcases. In the crook of his elbow, he cradled a small picture, of him and Servando in the tobacco garden. His greed had destroyed that life, and the picture would remind him not to go down that path again. It was time to build himself a new life.

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The Road to Nowhere

La Sombra Cubana

Connor PartidaThe past six years of my life I have spent fighting in the Cuban

revolution. It has forever changed my life but I have become a stronger, smarter person, not to mention the many skills I have picked up along the way. My hard work in the rebellion paid off and I be-came a high ranking soldier, the majority of my time I spent in enemy lines as an intelligence spy. I provided important information that al-lowed us to win the war but that's all I'm allowed to tell you. I started down this path when I was fifteen. I was in the car with my mom and my dad. I remember us having an argument, it seems so stupid now but I didn't understand that, it was serious to me at the time.

My dad was driving when he turned around to yell at me,“Helio, Cállate!”

While he was looking away he crashed into oncoming traffic head on. He died instantly, and my mom and I were severely injured. Can you believe it? The last words I would ever hear from my father were to shut up. I grew up without a father because of a pointless ar-gument. Five years later, January 1953, it was a dark gloomy day and I was on my way home from college. When I got home my mom’s car wasn't in the driveway which I assumed was because she was held up at work, so I thought nothing of it. About an hour had passed until I heard a knocking on the door. When I opened it to my surprise there were three revolutionary soldiers on my doorstep.

“We are sorry to tell you but an anti-revolutionary group put to-gether by the government killed your mother in cold blood as a mes-sage to our efforts. As I am sure you know, your mother was a big supporter of our cause. Because of this we are indebted to you, so we would like to offer you a position in our forces so you may get your well deserved revenge. We know you are not ready but when you are we will gladly welcome you if revenge is what you choose.”

I closed the door and dropped to the floor in agony. Tears were dripping down my face. I went through memories of the best mo-ments I had with my mother. I remember thinking about all the things she would miss in my lifetime. Eventually I became enraged at the government for taking my mother away from me. That's why I ac-cepted the revolutionary’s offer all those years ago.

Warm Cuban weather on a summer day in Havana. The refresh-ing feeling of the cold metal in my hands. I’m breaking a sweat from standing still because of my thick military garb. A lovely natural smell that is so familiar to me. It was finally lunchtime and I sat down in the shade of a tree. I took a bite out of my sandwich and looked up to see one of my soldiers approaching me.

“¡La guerra es terminada, ganamos!”I gasped. I’m happy it's over, I should be happy, I’ve worked for

this for the past six years. I just don’t know what to do now. I thought the horrors of the past would end when the war did. I think deep down that's what I was fighting for. I was only thinking of myself, I wasn't thinking of what would happen to Cuba. I went to our headquarters and got my things from my office, the war is over and so is my ser-vice. I wasn't fighting for a government position, I was fighting to get my mind off of everything. I finished tying up loose ends and returned back to my home in Havana to contemplate what this war being over means to me. The only relief I have is not being hunted by govern-ment soldiers anymore, but in the same way I still have a lust for war, the need to fight my way through each day. It makes me feel accom-plished, like I've earned everything I have. I realize now that the war might have ended but the war with myself will never end if I don’t be-come a better man, a man my mom would’ve wanted me to be. I’m twenty six now and you would think I’m at least in my forties from the way I act. I’ve been through so much that it's matured me more than I could have imagined. I am okay with the person I have become but I am not okay with what it took to get here. I miss the person I used to be before war, before my mom died, before my dad died.

At this point I am who you say I am. The year is 1959 and the war is over. I’m living my own life on my own terms without orders and it is hectic. Life is hectic and difficult no matter what, and if you've gone through things that cause you pain it just adds onto the dysfunction that is now my life. Everything is just another headache. I decided to walk until my mind is cleared. I opened the door and was embraced by the cool wind. The breeze on my face cleansed me of my headache almost immediately. Things are becoming much clearer and each step I take feels like I’m one step closer to my future. I don't know why I don't go on walks more often, it makes me feel at peace, or at least what I consider to be peace.

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The Road to NowhereI normally don't stare at people but when I saw soldiers in my

town I knew it wasn’t good. The soldiers were walking towards my house and I didn’t know if I should run away before they realize I’m not inside or if I should confront them and ask them what their busi-ness at my house was. I decided that that was my home and I was done being forced to do things by the military, so I confronted them.

“¿Qué haces frente a mi casa?”As I finished saying that I recognized one of the soldiers, he was

under my command during the war. In spy work it can be hard to trust people but no matter what he had my full trust and I knew he would never break it. And now when I saw him I knew I wasn’t in any kind of danger.

“Heliodoro, as I have continued working for the revolutionaries I have uncovered a deeply hidden conspiracy. I conducted some recon-naissance work and I discovered something I would've never ex-pected.”

“¿Qué es Duardo?” I asked intriguingly.“The test you took in the university was secretly an aptitude test

for potential soldiers. You had the best ever score. The revolutionaries murdered your mother to recruit you to their cause. I’m so sorry, sir,” he said with remorse.

I stood still and everything became silent. It was like my life was frozen in a single moment. I was confused on how I should feel and react about this. I had already grieved for my mother years ago and thought I had avenged her death. I have been doing nothing towards the things I seek, instead of getting the revenge I sought, I devoted my life, and help to the ones who wronged me. The déjà vu took me back to the day she died; soldiers at my doorstep telling me things I could not prevent. I could relapse to the sad mess that was me, or I could channel my new knowledge to something more. I am a spy and a good one at that, and Cuba is not short of enemies. I am strong as an individual but even stronger when I can work with another force to achieve the same goal. It is inevitable that the United States will make an attempt to regain what they have lost, and when that day comes I will be sure I am ready.

“Duardo, necesito pasar un mensaje a los Estados Unidos,” I re-quested.

“Por supuesto, Señor, ¿qué te gustaría decir?” Duardo said.“Tell them I am going to defect, and that I am wondering if they

could use a spy on the inside.”

Duardo was taken aback, but I don’t need him to agree. He is loyal and I know he will do what I ask of him.

Being in the state we are with the United States, it made it diffi-cult for communication. Months passed before I finally heard word. When I did it was the response I had been waiting for. They had been wanting to strike back at Cuba, but they knew it would be a wasted journey without knowing of their defenses. They said that this inva-sion depended on me. I had to do very little field work to find out the new security systems because the last year in my service I had to make sure I knew them like the back of my hand. I provided the United States with my knowledge and I asked for one thing, a way to get into their country legally. I handed Duardo the message and he shipped it out.

A couple weeks later a passport with my picture and a new name arrived, along with coordinates to an extraction location. I saw that these coordinates lead to a very remote area in Cuba. It's one of the only airfields unpatrolled by Cuban soldiers, but I had never told them of this location.

“Does the United States know more than they are leading me on to believe?” I asked myself. I packed up and I made assurances so I would be prepared for an ambush. I got to the location and it was a well hidden airstrip, the plane was there and so were U.S. soldiers, but nothing made me believe that this was an ambush. I left my weapons in the car, grabbed my passport and my bags and walked over to the airplane.

“Hola, soy Heliodoro Cortez.”“Quién?” the soldier responded.I opened my passport and read the name that was on there, “I

mean Francis Kane.”“Welcome to your flight, sir.” the soldier replied.In the past I had received new identities for missions, but this

time it's permanent. I didn't even get a say on what my name would be for the rest of my life. But I didn't when I was born either. I guess it's like being reborn and I’m sure the name will grow on me as the years pass.

Out of all the battles I have been in I’ve never been this terrified. This is the first time I have ever been on a plane. During the war I was frequently in helicopters, but in a helicopter you can see out the front and both sides, in a plane it feels like I'm in my room except it's

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The Road to Nowherehooked up to a couple of jet engines, it can only lead to a fiery death. What was supposed to be a short flight turned into a dark nightmare, the very reason why I've never been fond of air travel. Blinking lights turned on and the faint screeching noise of the captain's voice through the intercom system came on.

“We have been spotted by Cuban anti-aircraft defenses. We have to evacuate before we are shot. Go to the cargo hold and grab a para-chute.”

I rushed to the cargo hold and a military trooper assisted me with the parachute. Before I knew it I was falling out of an airplane. I couldn't stop spinning, I wasn't able to stabilize myself and every sec-ond I was that much closer to becoming a red puddle on the asphalt. The ten second lesson on how to deploy my shoot had been obnox-iously interrupted by the noisy airplane. The wind blowing at me was intensely, I felt like a feather floating down to the ground slowly. My hands were frantically scouring the parachute bag to find out how to deploy it. There's only about 1,000 feet until I hit the water. I finally pulled on something and the chute deployed throwing my body up-ward. I went from plummeting to my death to gently gliding to the water. The water was freezing but it didn't bother me because I was still in shock. I estimated that we landed about halfway to Miami. They inflated the raft and the five soldiers and I got in. It's about a day journey, so we all took turns rowing. The war took a toll on my health. The soldiers were younger than me and could row for much longer. I decided to go to sleep. I woke up when the raft hit the shore. I got off the boat and there were soldiers waiting for us on the shore. The soldiers handed me a bag and said,

“Bienvenido a América, eres libre de vivir su vida aquí..”I left and walked to a place I thought was private enough. I

opened up the bag to look inside, there was a lot of money and it showed a house under Francis Kane, and a job interview set for a week from now. I went to my home and it was fully furnished to my liking. I unpacked my stuff and just relaxed for a week. It was finally time for my job interview It was at a private security agency, I thought to myself of how perfect this new job would be for me, and how perfect my new life is, I breathed in some fresh air and walked into the front doors of the agency. They welcomed me, and knew ex-actly who I was, the only difference between my identity and the identity the U.S government gave me is that it has me listed as an ex-United States spy instead of Cuban. Due to the recommendation the

government gave me, I got the job without a problem. Now with my hefty salary, beautiful home, and being at peace, I can finally enjoy my life.

Days went by, weeks went by, months went by. Time flies when there's nothing to stress about. It's already April 1961 now and I was informed that the information I had provided was finally going to be used this month. The invasion was launched today,  April 17th. It's being called the Bay of Pigs. It feels weird that there's a battle going on in Cuba and I'm not a part of it, but I'm glad because I am done with war, it's behind me now. Two days have passed and the invasion is over. The United States was defeated and many soldiers have been captured. I don't understand how this happened, with the information I gave them they should've been able to wipe out Fidel Castro without an issue. I guess even with an advantage war is still war.

This invasion was supposed to be my revenge though. Yet again instead of getting revenge I have done the opposite and now the United States has been humiliated. I’m just going to sleep it off and figure out what to do in the morning. I woke up instantly from the sound of shattered glass, before I was able to get out of bed a silhou-ette figure thrusts the stock of a gun at my faces. I awake with ex-treme head pain, I can’t open my eyes all the way because of how swollen my face is. My hands and legs started to hurt and I then real-ized that my arms and legs were bound to a chair. In all the years I served I was never captured, and that's a big reason why I am still alive. I heard a creaking noise and the door opened to a large man holding a briefcase. He set the briefcase down on the table next to me. He opened up the briefcase and it was filled with every kind of knife I had ever seen and even some I haven't. I felt a shift in my stomach be-cause at that moment I knew I was going to die.

“Why did you lead us into an ambush?” the man shouted.“I did not lead you into an ambush, I gave you all the information

you needed in order to take control of Cuba, it's not my fault you messed it up!”

“We know you are lying, we have a witness to your deceit.” A man opened the door and walked into the room, it took a

minute for my eyes to adjust. When they finally adjusted I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I saw Duardo.

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The Road to Nowhere“I worked with this man in Cuba. He told me of his plans to lead

you into an ambush. He works directly for Fidel Castro,” he told the man interrogating me.

“Duardo, ¿De qué hablas?I pieced together everything that had happened, the United States

knowing of a hidden airfield, the letters I asked Duardo to send weren't being sent. He was sending his own words in my name, and if this man doesn't kill me I'll be sucked back into Cuba and be a hero of villains. I am hurt by his betrayal and surprised but I didn't really ex-pect that I would be able to have a normal life. I knew something would bring me back, there are few people you can trust in war. I should've known I couldn't trust him. Soldiers follow orders, not their friends.

“Duardo is the one that lead you into an ambush not me.” “I don't have time for your lies,” the interrogator saidHis fist came flying at me. I woke up on the floor, I had been hit

so hard I fell over with the chair. I must have hit my head on the con-crete, at this point I can't tell the pain apart, I think I did because of the blood on the floor. My head was ringing with pain. The man picked up my chair and knocked me over again.

“Tell us everything you told Cuba!”“I didn’t tell them anything!” even I could hear the fear in my

voice.He turned around and went to his bag, when he turned around he

had a stiletto knife in his hand. The whole time Duardo had just been standing and watching me get tortured, he couldn't care less.

“You better start talking. I’ve been wanted to test out some of my new knives.”

There's no getting out of this one, I’m either going to get tortured and then killed or killed for confessing to something I didn't do.

“I told them everything. Every little detail of your plan. Cuba saw your attack coming from miles away. You stood no chance and you never will, as long as I draw breath I will do everything to stop you from attacking my home country!” I shouted at the man.

He was so mad his face turned red, he cut my bonds and gripped my throat. I couldn’t breathe, my feet were no longer touching the ground. He carried me outside by my throat. We were nearing a cliff and he threw me to the ground right next to the edge. He told me to turn around and face the cliff. I heard the clicking from the hammer

being pulled back on his revolver, I felt the cold metal barrel on the back of my head.

“Wait! I want to be the one to kill this traitor,” Duardo said to the man.

“Turn around soldier, I want to see your face when I kill you.”At this point I’m not even going to try fighting for my life, I’ve

lost everything I’ve ever cared about, my old life, my parents, my new life and now my one and only friend since my mother died. If he wants me dead I’m not going to stop him. I turned around, Duardo pointed the gun at my face and reached for the trigger.

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The Road to Nowhere

Las Mentiras Malas

Bijan SiryOn Wednesday February 8, 1959, Francis Gomez released a song

called “Bad Lies”. It broke records in Cuba, for most records sold in a day. The song was about how bad the government was treating their people, and how corrupt the government was. One thing that had haunted him the most was that before he became famous his older brother, Juan, died while working in the military. Juan would brag to Francis about all the stuff that he did while he was in the military, but while Francis was listening, he realized that they were doing horrible things to people who didn’t deserve it. Juan wasn’t the smartest, he didn’t have the education that Francis had. He dropped out of school to join the military which didn’t help his education at all. Francis told Juan to do what was right and to not do what they said, but after talk-ing back, they executed Juan. Francis has been haunted by that his whole life. Even while living in America, he was still very scared.  

Francis was someone who everyone knew. People loved him, and he was very well respected back in Cuba. They respected him because he was a philanthropist and he loved helping people who didn’t have much because that was how his life used to be. He was famous for do-ing what he loved to do, which was singing. Music was everything to Francis. It started when he was seventeen, he knew he could be some-one, so he stepped up at an open mic in a bar and decided to sing. Word went around about him in Santa Clara. He eventually became one of Cuba’s most prominent singers. He performed songs for holi-days, he performed at different venues, and even his fans started to dress and act like him. After he released “Bad Lies”, the people started to retaliate against the government. They got mad. The board send the military after Francis and charged him for treason, they wanted him dead. Once Francis heard the news, he knew what he had to do. He picked up the phone in a hurry. He quickly dialed Tim, his manager, as quickly as he could.

“Tim! Tim! They are after me!” “Francis, calm down, what happened?”“The song, I knew it was a bad idea, but the people… they had to

hear the truth. I’m sorry. I had to be honest about everything that they

did. I wish I could’ve done something bigger rather than write a song, but I’m not very good at anything else.”

“It’s ok, Francis, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”Fifteen minutes later, Tim arrived to Francis’ private apartment.

They needed to discuss what their plan was going to be.“We need to announce a tour in the USA so we can quickly es-

cape,” said Francis.“Call the pilot, we’re going to Florida right away,” yelled Tim, in

a hurry.They got to Francis’ private jet, and left with nothing except

some money. They left Cuba and contacted all the venues in the United States. They were easily able to plan fifteen concert dates in a few minutes. There was only one problem, Francis needed top notch security at each of his shows. He explained to the booking companies why he needed it. They quickly realized the position that he was in and they helped him out.

The pilot’s voice sounded on the intercom, “Ready for take off.” “What is that?” Tim questioned while looking out the plane win-

dow.Hordes of police and military showed up on the runway. They all

lined up in lines with guns pointed at the planes.“Alto ahí! Alto ahí! Vamos a disparar nuestras armas!”“Muevete! Iniciar el avión!”They quickly flew off, gunshots impaling the sides of the plane.

Luckily no damage was done. This made Francis realize how ruthless they truly were.

The plane landed in Orlando, Florida. Francis hurried off of the plane and went to the taxi. Francis wasn’t the same. He didn’t talk during the whole flight. They were taken to a place in Orlando where they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. Tim and Francis talked about the plan on where they were going from there.

“Tim, I am freaking out. What is the plan? What are we going to do? I can’t die like Juan, I do not want to die.” said Francis.

“Francis! You’re safe right here, we’re in the United States, we are out of Cuba. Do not worry. You are overthinking too much.”

“But still, I have no house, no car, barely any money, and no clothes. How are we going to go on tour? How are we going to get food for us to eat? We can barely even last for a week. We might have to go back.”

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The Road to Nowhere“No, we won’t. Stop talking like that! You are overreacting! Get

some rest, you need it.”Weeks later, the first show came up. It was in Miami, so it was

not that far of a drive. Francis had to make sure that the security was good so that no one from the Cuban Military were to get in. After checking, he was finally ready to get back to what he loved to do. The show was about to start.

Tim walked in and shouted, “Woohoo! We’re back to normal! You absolutely killed it out there today!”

“Thanks Tim, I felt good out there, I am excited for the rest of this tour.”

One of the security guards walked in, “Someone gave us this let-ter for you.  We do not know who sent it, it just says who to give it to. Would you like me to open it for you?”

Francis replies, “No, it is fine, hand it over.”Francis opened the envelope and started to read the letter.

Dearest Francis Gomez,

It has come to our attention that you have left Cuba. You are not safe. You think you can disrespect our country like that? You think you can disrespect our leader, Fidel Castro, and just get away with it? Watch your back Mr. Gomez. We do not care who you are. We do not care about how famous you are, how much money you make, or anything of the sort. You are a traitor. We won’t stop until we have dealt with you.

Hope you have a good night, it might be your last.

Signed,B

Francis froze in shock. He didn’t know how to react after that. They were at his show, and he was not aware of it. It could have been his last concert, and he’d had no clue.

“Francis? What did the letter say?”“I- I have to get out of here. Tim get the car. quickly!”

Francis sat in shock for days. He was forced to cancel his show in New Jersey because of how petrified he was. He hired two body-guards, Victor and Marco. They stood with him through everything

that he had to go through. They were there to get food for him, and to guide him through public places without being bothered.

Time passed and the next show came. Francis felt a little more comfortable because he had new people to watch over him. As the tour went on, he just went through more and more shows. He per-formed in Georgia, Alabama, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Kentucky. His next show was in New York.

Francis sat through the long car ride. He zoned out and pondered deeply, “Why did I have to do the wrong thing? Was it really worth it?” He gained his attention back as he overheard the news on the ra-dio.

“Marco, turn up the volume,” he said.“In Cuba, Frank Pais was gunned down today in the streets of

Santiago de Cuba by the police. Sources say Frank Pais was a Cuban Revolutionary. Evidence found that he was plotting something to overthrow General Batista’s government…”

Marco lowered the radio and turned back with the look of disbe-lief. The car turned as silent as an empty house in the middle of the night. A tear rolled down Francis cheek.

“I don’t want to believe that this is happening. Victor, Marco, please tell me that was fake. Please tell me that I am asleep right now. There is a revolution going on and I am one of the targets.”

Marco stopped the car. “Francis, there is nothing that any of us could have done to prevent that event from happening. Even if you were there to support him, you would have gotten shot and killed too. You are lucky that there even is a revolution in the country. If there wasn’t they would be doing everything they could to deal with you.”  

“They will not stop until I am dead, there is nothing that I can re-ally do.”

Victor sprung back and looked at Francis dead in the eye. “If they want you dead, then you are going to have to show them that you are dead. I can help you in any way I can, I’d need time.”

“Are you telling me I need to fake my death?”“It would work, but the problem is how are we going to make it

believable?” Tim turned around and chimed in, “The only way it would look

or sound believable is if he died in a vehicular accident. I don’t think the Cuban government knows that Victor and Marco are with us. So,

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The Road to Nowheremaybe we could use that to our benefit and we could have them be the ones that took Francis down.”

Marco was confused. The conversation ended. They all went back to sitting in silence until they reached their hotel in New York. As soon as they reached the hotel, and dropped everything off, they immediately had to head to Francis’ next show. In New York, there was a bigger chance that someone could’ve been going to the show to kill him.

Sweat was dripping down his face. Francis was terrified, but the show had to go on.

Halfway through the show, someone in the crowd ran through se-curity, gunshots were heard and Francis didn’t know how to react. Out in the open, Francis stood there in shock. He was face to face with the Cuban soldier wielding the gun. Marco and Victor ran to help. Two gunshots went off.

“Estas bien? Donde estas?”Marco looked behind him. The body of the soldier was nowhere

to be found, but Francis was. Marco saw Francis drop to his knees and start to cry.

“Ayuda! Ayuda!” Marco didn’t know why he was screaming for help, but once he

looked at the floor, he broke down in tears. It was Victor on the floor with two shots in his head. He lied there with no movements at all. A pool of blood surrounded the three friends as they stood there in grief.

Francis couldn’t stop crying, “He died trying to save my life.”Tim entered, “That isn’t the only thing he did, read this note he

left backstage.”Dear Francis,I’ve thought long and hard about this, but I couldn’t get to the

point to tell this to you face to face. We’ve went through a lot and we’ve became so close. It hurts me to see you struggling like this. When we talked about faking your death, all I could think about was me taking my life for you. We talked about the plane crash, and I have a good idea. Take the plane from my hangar in Los Angeles and I’ll crash it. You can say it was me, and you can change your life. Take my place. You can have what I own. Thank you for everything.

Your friend,Victor

“We can use the body, Francis. We can do what he said, this is what he wanted.”

“No, I can’t do that, even if he is dead.”“Francis, you are being oblivious right now. You don’t under-

stand the position that you are in. You need to take this chance, it’s all that you have left.”

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The Road to Nowhere

Colombia

Lágrima Azul – Isabelle Udasco…………………………..…..281Control y Seguridad – Genevie Casino…………….…………291El Extraño – Evan London…………………….……………..301

The compilation of stories begin with a shy 15-year old girl, Camila. Follow her dangerous journey as she has to escape the vi-cious Colombian guerilla group, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, otherwise known as, the FARC. All with the help of her newfound ally, a member of the FARC.

Experience Lucio’s thrilling journey to escape the FARC. He is accompanied by Camila, the first genuine friend he’s had in a long time. They must find somewhere where they are safe from the FARC.

Finally, Sebastián is reluctant when his parents send him to America, after his sister, Camila, is kidnapped by the FARC. He must adjust to his new life in the U.S. while also finding a way to cope with his missing sister.

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The Road to Nowhere

Lágrima Azul

Isabelle UdascoI wake up to the light pouring through my sheer curtains, my

brother and mom singing happy birthday to me. They were holding a beautiful cake covered in pastel pink frosting. They walk in the door-way of my room and make their way across the fluffy carpeted floor to my bed, where I sit propped up against my headboard, smiling from ear to ear.

“Feliz Cumpleaños te deseamos a ti cumpleaños Camila feliz cumpleaños!” they sing.

I close my eyes, make a wish, and blow the candles out. “Gracias por todo!” I say with the biggest smile.“¿Te gusta tu pastel?” Sebastián asks“¡Si, gracias!”“Your father wanted to tell you that he is very sorry he couldn’t

be here, he had a big meeting with President Vélez,” Mom says. Se-bastian interrupts her with a scoff and rolls his eyes. Sebastian always sticks up for me, knowing I’m too shy to say anything for myself. My mom continues, ignoring Sebastian, “He promises to be back in time for your party after school.”

“Okay, sounds good,” I say with a reassuring smile. “Have a very happy birthday, Camila. Now quickly get ready and

come down for breakfast.” she says, worried I’ll be late.“I’ll be down soon,” I reply with another smile as they leave my

room. I get dressed in my nicest clothes and walk to my dresser where

I’m surprised by the sight of a little white box wrapped in a pink rib-bon with a little pink card hanging from the side. I open it up to find a gold necklace with a shining blue aquamarine, my birthstone, hanging from it like a teardrop. The small card hanging from the box reads, “Feliz Cumpleaños Camila. Te amo mi hermana.”

I ran down the stairs and threw my arms around him, “Muchas gracias, te amo mucho Sebastian!” I shout.

“De nada Camila, feliz cumpleaños,” he says with a loving smile. He helps me put the necklace on and we sit down at the table

where my mother serves us Migas de Arepa, a traditional Colombian dish. An open newspaper lies across the end of the table, reminding

Sebastian and I that once again my father is not here, when he should be. The front page titled May 4, 2008: “President Vélez finally makes a statement.” Right by it, an empty cup that was once filled with black coffee, my fathers favorite. Sebastian, still angry, ignores it.

Sebastian and I walk to Locust Street, like we have done every-day for as long as I can remember. Walking this street reminds me of simpler times when we didn’t have to worry about abductions or peo-ple going missing. Where Sebastian and I could walk peacefully to school. It now reminds me of the members of the FARC, terrorizing the innocent. It's equal distance from my school, to his school, and home. From there we walk to our schools on our own. We meet after school on the same road to walk home together.

“Are you excited for school?” Sebastian asks. “Yes, very. I can’t wait to see Ana Maria and invite her to din-

ner!” I reply.Ana is my best friend, we met when school first started. We are

the two most quiet kids in class. Once we got to know each other I had learned we had a lot in common. Her father was a politician, we both were the only kids in class who knew how to speak English, and we both have older brothers. I have always been such a shy girl and have not made a lot of friends. Sebastian and I talk on and on. Before I know it we have arrived to Locust street.

“Have a good day. See you after school,” he tells me.“Thanks, you too!” I respond. Halfway to school, I start to look up and notice how empty the

streets are. While all the shops are open, no one is in them or around them. I think nothing of it, until I hear someone shout to me from in apartment above. I look up but see no one.

“Perdoname, no te oi!” I shout in the direction it came from. Be-fore I could get a response I feel someone wrap something tightly over my eyes. They pick me up and start running, I start to panick.

“Ayudame. Por favor!" I scream as loud as I can, struggling against my kidnapper. No one comes to help me. They stop running for a second and I try again and again even louder. Before I can try a third time I’m thrown down, the wind knocked out of me. My head hits something hard but cushioned. I lay on my side, trying to catch my breath. I feel to the left of me as far as my arm can reach. Nothing. I feel to the right and I feel some kind of wall, blocking my hand from reaching any further. I know it isn’t the ground because when I place

276

The Road to Nowheremy hand down to lift myself up, I don’t feel concrete but some kind of leather. It’s silent for a few seconds, until the sound of a click fol-lowed by a slam in front of me. I’m in the back seat of a car. What is going on? What is going to happen to me? The car jerks forward and I am thrown backwards into my seat.

“¿Donde estoy? ¿Quien eres?” I say trembling.“We are members of the FARC. Shut your mouth unless you

want to die,” a stern voice replies. I try not to panic but I am terrified, I can not believe what is going on. I still have the blindfold on and I can not see where they are taking me. I’m afraid if I try and get out of the car or even take the blindfold off they will kill me. I cry for hours until my mind switches off, and I fall into a deep sleep.

I’m awoken by the sound of the front door slamming shut. A few seconds later the door to my right is opened.

“Get out of the car and don’t touch the blindfold,” says the same stern voice. I carefully climb out of the car. I don’t know where we are so I can’t risk trying to run. I hear heavy footsteps coming toward me, and I stand there shaking. A different, softer voice tells me that when the blindfold comes off I am not to make a single sound, I nod my head. The first thing I see are the dark brown eyes of a boy who must be about Sebastian’s age. Before I can get a better look of his face the voice I heard earlier says that we must get going. We must’ve been driving for hours because when the blindfold came off the sun was just about to set. I look around and see that we’ve stopped on an abandoned road somewhere deep in the jungle. They carry two big backpacks and lanterns, one of them in front of me leading the way and the other behind me. I try to calm myself down and tell myself that my family is coming to save me, but as the sun sets, reality sets in. My hope is gone.

We walk on for a few hours, until it's pitch black. The only light is coming from the lanterns, weakly illuminating the path ahead of us. The sounds of crickets chirping and our footsteps echo throughout the jungle. We only stop for a couple of minutes.

“Santiago,” says the younger man, to the man with the stern voice, warning to catch what he's thrown.

Santiago turns to me, “Take this.” He throws me a canteen of wa-ter and poorly packaged crackers, which taste like dirt. I try and get a better look of the man who reminds me so much of Sebastian but he catches me staring. I quickly turn the other way avoiding eye contact. We continue walking on for a few more hours in the same direction.

I begin to wonder how this happened. I’ve heard stories of others who were taken and tortured by the FARC. I never thought something like this would ever happen to anyone I know, let alone myself. How could I be so stupid? I should have known something was wrong the minute I left Sebastian and walked through the abandoned street. This isn’t anyone's fault but mine.

My feet stumble and I trip over mossy trees roots. I groan in pain, my muscles sore from the amount of walking I’ve had to do. Just when I think I am going to pass out from exhaustion we start to slow down and finally stop. Santiago sets down his lantern and backpack, and pulls out a small camping tent. Behind me the young man does the same and they start setting them up. I sit there, out of breath, watching them. Just this morning I was at home with my family. Now I’m a hostage of the FARC. I wished that this was just a nightmare. That I’ll crawl out from under all the blankets I cover myself with each night and walk down stairs where my family will be. Sitting at the table, the smell of coffee fills the air, my mom will greet me. Re-ality sets in and I feel broken. They finish setting the tents up so quick to the point where I start to wonder if they’ve done this before, and if they have, how many times? When Santiago is done with his tent he goes to his backpack and pulls out another tent. I assume it’s for me. He begins to set it up right between the other two tents. I stand there watching in silence, I haven't said a word since the car ride here. When he finishes setting the tent up he walks over to me and grabs me by the arm and pulls me towards the tent.

“Don’t come out until you’re called,” he barks, shoving me to-wards the tent and walks to the other side of camp to start a fire.

“Toma. Yo soy Lucio,” the younger one says with a slight, almost comforting, smile while he kneels down to hand me a blanket. Santi-ago shoots him a glare and he quickly stands up to walk away. I crawl into the tent and do as I am told. I hold my necklace close to my heart. This small blue teardrop somehow gives me hope. It makes me think of my family which helps me get through the day. I quietly let tears run down my face as I fall asleep, starting to wonder if I’ll ever see my family again.

The next morning I’m awakened by Santiago shaking my tent and calling me out. I rub my eyes, red and puffy from the previous night. I crawl out and see that it’s still dark out but not as dark as be-

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The Road to Nowherefore. I assume the sun is just rising. They give me more water and dirt-crackers.

“We will be on our way soon,” Santiago informs me. They take down the tents and pack everything back up. We start walking in the same direction. It’s hot and humid, sweat drips from my forehead. The air is thick. I’ve never been so exhausted or starved in my entire life. A few hours in, we find a stream of fresh water where they fill the canteens. I kneel down, cup my hands to get water, and splash it on my face to cool me down.

“¿Tienes sed? ¿Tienes hambre?" Lucio asks. I nod my head yes. He hands me the canteen he had just filled and starts digging in his backpack for food. I finish all of the water and fill it back up.

“Gracias, toma,” he says as he hands me banana he had just picked, near the stream. This is the first time anyone has shown me any kindness.

I manage to get out in a weak voice, almost a whisper, “Gracias.”“De nada, Camila,” he responds, just as quiet so Santiago doesn’t

hear. They both eat a few bananas and crackers.“Looks like the sun is about to set, we must get on our way,”

Santiago says. They refill their canteens that they’d just emptied out of thirst, pack up all their belongings and we are on our way.

We stop to set up camp right after the sun sets. “Go find leaves and sticks for a fire and make sure they’re dry,” Santiago instructs.

While we head off and rummage through piles of leaves to find dry ones Santiago quickly sets the tents up. We put everything we could find in a small pile away from the tents. And Santiago pulls out a match box with matches so big, they remind me of a firecracker. He lights the match and throws it onto the pile of dead leaves and twigs, and they immediately burst into a column of flames. He looks in his backpack and pulls out a small metal pot that was scorched black. He reaches into his bag again and pulls out a can of beans. He cuts the top of the can of beans off with his pocket knife, and empties the beans into the pot. Thinking he was going to build something to set it on, he just put the pot straight into the fire. Near the edge of the fire so the handle wasn’t being touched by flames. I sit across from him and beside Lucio. The smell of the of the burning food fills the air, re-minding me of when Sebastian and I tried to cook for mom. My stom-ach rumbles and my heart aches. I decide to crawl inside my tent and wait until they call me out to eat. They sit around the fire and talk about tomorrows plans.

“Time to eat, here take this." Santiago barks. He hands Lucio and I a spoon, and we all gather around the pot.

After we eat, Santiago orders us to wash the dishes while he sleeps. Lucio and I walk to a nearby pond with the dishes and a lantern.

“¿Hablas ingles?” he asks. “Si, un poquito,” I reply. “How old are you?” “I just turned fifteen,” I reply shyly.“Happy belated birthday,” he says with a smile.“Thank you,” I reply not looking up from the few dishes I’m

cleaning.I don’t want to be reminded of what I was taken from. My home,

my family, and my life. He notices that that upsets me. He quickly tries to change the subject by asking about my necklace but it only makes me even more upset. We finish the dishes without saying a word and head back to camp where we crawl into our tents to fall asleep.

It’s been one week today, since I’ve last seen my family. I miss the way mi mama would greet me everyday after school with a warm hug and a big smile. The way Sebastian would sit down with me most school nights and help me with my homework. Those nights when papa came home early and had time to have dinner with us. All the things I took for granted. I have to find a way to see them again. I have to get back home, but is it worth the risk?

The next day, traveling deeper and deeper into the jungle, we walk on for miles. Lucio sees how exhausted I am and suggests we stop and rest.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes. We’re already behind sched-ule,” Santiago hisses. Lucio rolls his eyes and I can’t help but let out a small giggle. He reminds me so much of my brother who is always rolling his eyes at my father.

Santiago turns to me and shoots me a glare, “Something funny?”He slowly walks towards me. I start to brace myself for what

might come next but before he could get any closer Lucio steps in be-tween us.

“She didn’t mean anything by it Santiago, she’s sorry,” he de-fends.

“Just keep her quiet!” Santiago warns.

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The Road to NowhereLucio turns to me, “¿Estas bien?” I nod yes, “Gracias. ¿Me das agua por favor?”He opens a canteen and hands it to me. It’s filled to the top and I

empty half of it and hand it back to Lucio. He finishes the rest of the water while Santiago climbs a nearby tree and knocks down a bunch of bananas. They fall to the floor making a loud thud. He climbs down and we are on our way.

I’m always surprised how under any circumstance Lucio was al-ways there to help me but nevertheless I appreciate it. He really looks after me and I think that’s part of why he reminds me so much of Se-bastian. I’ve always wondered why and if this is his first time kidnap-ping. I figure if I try and get Lucio to help my escape I have a much better chance of escaping and surviving. I know that trying to con-vince Santiago is completely out of the question. Trying to convince Lucio would be just as dangerous as trying to escape on my own. He is looking out for me but he is still one of them. He could end up telling Santiago first thing and they could kill me right then and there. Santiago could also catch the both of us trying to escape and kill us.

We finally stop to set up for the night. As usual Santiago pulls all three of the tents out and starts setting them up while Lucio and I gather sticks and leaves for a fire. The fire, popping and crackling, dancing under the moonlight. What used to remind me of the fireplace at home where after long days we would go outside and gather around the fire together. Now reminds me of the cold dark nights that I spent sitting and waiting for Santiago to bark orders at me. I plan to talk to Lucio when we go down to the creek to wash the dishes since we will be further away from Santiago.

He crawls into his tent and we walk to the small creek, dishes in one hand and a lantern in the other. I’m terrified but I know this is the only way I’ll be able to see my family again.We get to the creek and sit side by side close to the water.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Santiago earlier,” he says. “He doesn't mean to scare you, he's just like that with everyone.”

“Oh. I’ve been meaning to thank you actually,” I respond. “For?” he asks. “For defending me when Santiago got mad. For always looking

out for me.”“You’re welcome.”I’m not sure how to ask him for help, soon we will be done and

have to go back. I’m shaking and I begin to panic. Tears stream down

my face and I start to think I won’t get back home. He notices how upset I am by the sound of my sniffling.

“What's wrong?" he asks. “Was it Santiago?”I nod my head no. “You remind me of my brother, and I just miss him so much.”“Oh,” he says “Please, please Lucio!”“What?” he says sounding scared and confused.“You ha-have to help me get back to him! Please.”He’s so shocked he gets up from sitting and takes a step back-

wards. I can’t read his face. He tries to say something but before he can a word out, I blurt, “We can leave tomorrow morning just before Santiago wakes up.”

“Please. I know you don’t want to see me hurt and when I get to wherever Santiago takes me they’ll kill me.” Neither of those things I know for sure but I’m desperate.

“Camila, I-” he begins but before he can deny I interrupt him again.

“Please take tonight to decide,” I beg because I know right now he will say no.

He just stands there with the same blank expression. I quickly grab the dishes and the lantern and head back to the tents. I walk away worried, sick to my stomach, but I’ve never felt so independent and confident. I had never realized until just now how much I depended on Sebastian.

I crawl into my tent, Santiago fast asleep. A few minutes later I hear Lucio outside packing dishes back into his backpack and getting into his tent. I lie awake that night, I am too nervous to sleep. I also stay awake to try and hear if Lucio tells Santiago everything but so far nothing. I hope and I pray that I wake up and find Lucio packed up and ready waiting for me. I hope and I pray that I’m not waken up by Santiago yanking me out of my tent. I twist and turn countlessly until I finally fall asleep.

Luckily I wake up just before the sun rises, I thought I might sleep too long and wake up after Santiago does. I don’t hear anything outside, specifically I don’t hear Lucio outside. I unzip just a part of my tent carefully, trying not to wake Santiago. I poke just my head out first and to my surprise no one’s out there. I unzip the rest of the tent as quiet as possible. I crawl out and take a better look around. No

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The Road to Nowhereone. I worry about not being able to survive alone in the jungle with no food but I have to try. I put my dirty worn down shoes on and take whatever I could carry. Which was a canteen and the small blanket I was given on the first night. I crawl out of the tent quickly and qui-etly. I try and listen to see if Lucio’s in his tent but I can’t hear any-thing other than Santiago snoring. I want to wait a few more minutes to see if Lucio will change his mind but I can’t risk being caught. For a second Santiago stops snoring and I think I might have woken him up. I stop dead in my tracks but he continues. I make my way past the both of their tents just quiet enough. I make sure not to step and snap any twigs that would make noise.

I’m off on my own, headed the direction we came from. It’s lighter out but it’s still gloomy and cold. I begin to regret what I’ve done. How will I get all the way back to town on my own? If I had stayed would they really have killed me? I cry silently, still careful where I step. I’m further away but not far enough to make a lot of noise.

I hear twigs snap behind me and leaves rustle. Someone is fol-lowing me. My stomach drops and my heart starts to race. I stand there in the silence. I turn slowly, my head first followed by the rest of my body. Tears stream down my face. It’s him.

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Control y Seguridad

Genevie CasinoSe sentía como si yo no tuviera zapatos. Mis pies estaban envuel-

tos de lodo y podía sentir el lodo como algo suavecito parecía seda. Al mismo tiempo se sentían apestosos. Mis calcetines y zapatos hacían ruido con cada paso que daba. El olor de las plantas era hor-rible. Estaban podridas y también el olor del lodo era tan horrible que cuando se mezclaban los dos olores era tan abrumador. Nece-sitaba taparme la boca para bloquear y tolerar el olor y no vomitar lo poco que había comido, ya que me daba mucho asco. Mientras cam-inaba, no podía controlar mis nervios del miedo. Ese miedo se dupli-caba al oír el agua y los insectos piando. Nunca me gustaron los rui-dos de los insectos en la selva, lo he odiado desde que era un niño pe-queño, contaba Lucio.

Beginning our escape, we didn’t know what to expect on our journey. I didn’t expect to jump every time I spotted something on the ground that even resembled a footprint. I was afraid that we would be found, spotted, or attacked. I did not know what lied ahead.

My hands shook and felt wet and cold as I rubbed them against each other. It didn’t help to close my eyes, nor did it help to keep them open. I only knew that I did not want to be in this jungle any-more, even if I was accompanied now. My knees buckled with every step. I wonder if Camila was alarmed by my trepidation. It felt like there was someone or something out there watching our every move. I couldn’t tell if I was imagining things or not. I blamed it on the para-noia of being raised within the FARC.

Podía ver que Camila estaba asustada también, ella estaba ater-rorizada de volver a ser capturada por el FARC. Los dos estábamos aterrorizados porque ni me quería imaginar en lo que nos iban hacer si nos atraparan. Hemos estado caminando por días, sin parar y sin nada de comer. Me dolía mi panza y tenía que aguantarme en comer toda la comida en mi mochila sin compartirla con Camila. Y aseguró que Camila estaba pensando lo mismo que yo.

Beside me, Camila took shuffled tired steps, her hands grasping the branches as she passed by them. Her soft, kind brown eyes re-minded me most of my hermana, María Teresa. They looked innocent and young, similar to my sister’s. Camila resembles my hermana also

by her hair, dark brown and unwaveringly straight, but frizzy in the damp air of the selva. She looked exhausted, her movements were despacio and despondent.

I paused and advised her,“Ya no agarres las ramas. Nos tenemos que quedar silenciosos, no quiero que algún seguidor nos vaya a oír con el ruido de las ramas.”

“Bien. ¿Cómo es que sabes tanto sobre la selva?” she inquired.I laughed, “Casi toda mi vida he vivido en esta selva, aparte yo

tengo la suficiente experiencia especialmente de cómo los seguidores buscan a la gente que se escapa. También el vivir tantos años en este lugar me ha causado odiar este lugar especialmente el color verde que cada vez lo detesto más y más.”

I glanced down at her, and she was already looking up at me. Her eyes seemed wondering, then thoughtful. It looked like she wanted to say something, but then she left it alone and continued walking.

“¿Acaso ya mero estamos en Buenaventura?” she asked. “Si. Ya casi,” I replied.After a deep and relieved sigh, she replied, “Qué bien, porque es-

toy tan cansada de caminar tanto y sin descansar. Mis pies me duelen y me arden como si tuviera un montón de cortadas en las plantas de mis pies.”

I took the canteen out of my backpack, “Toma. Bebe el resto del agua.”

“¿Estás seguro?” she asked. I answered by giving a small smile, and nudging it towards her a little more. This time she accepted it.

“Yo no me hubiera imaginado que uno de mis compañeros de la escuela me ofreciera de la poca agua de su cantina a beber. Era como su inmadurez les hace negarse a compartir con otra persona,” Camila said.

One second, I was caminando through the jungle, in the next, I felt like I should run like lightning out of this ominous rainforest. My pace slowed to a stop, along with Camila’s soon after, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. My ears flicked like a tiger’s when I faintly heard the ruido of leaves snapping under feet. My manos darted out to take Camila with me to crouch behind a fallen tree trunk. I did everything I could to keep us hidden, but it ter-rified me that I wasn’t sure where they were.

We sat there with our knees bent tightly against our chest and our heads ducked low, trying so hard to conceal ourselves. We could hear

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The Road to Nowheretheir footsteps. They weren’t as heavy as the ones of a large animal. The snapping of the remas grew louder and louder. My ojos refused to close in anticipación. Then, the sound came so close to the tree trunk that I was sure we were spotted. My short breaths sounded so loud in the tense silence of that moment. I pushed her cabeza and mine even lower, terrified that the hombre could see the hairs on the tops of our heads.

Then the steps grew quieter and my breathing finally slowed. My shoulders relaxed, and so did Camila’s. However, we were still horri-fied that when we finally looked over the tree trunk, they would still be there, patiently waiting to matarnos. For that reason, we sat here for a few hours.

I withdrew my arms from around Camilla, and, ever so slowly, I peeked over the trunk. No one was there, just the eerie rainforest yet again. Camila was looking up at me. She noticed my reaction and was relieved that the coast was clear.

“Venga, tenemos que ir a otro camino si queremos evitar esos soldados,” I said intensely.

I led her in another direction. We walked faster, frantically trying to flee this forest. After a couple hours, my stomach was killing me. I could tell that we were near Tulúa because the arboles were gradually becoming farther apart from each other.

Finally, I could see the beginnings of a grassy field ahead of us. The sácate became more consistent and the trees varied. We were completely exhausted when we reached the road, and it was hard to ignore the intense weakness I felt over my whole body as we walked in silence.

“¿Cómo es tú familia?” Camila preguntó. I glanced at her. “Mi mamá, papá, y hermana están muertos,” I

said frankly.  Her steps faltered,“Oh, perdón.” I tried to reassure her, “No, está bien. Eso pasó hace mucho

tiempo,” but I’m sure my smile looked forced. She nodded and asked, “Cómo eran ellos?”This time, I truly smiled, “Mis padres siempre nos apoyaron en

todo. A mi padre se le dificulta el expresar sus emociones pero yo siempre sabía que él siempre quería lo mejor para mi.” As I spoke I looked down at the concrete street, on the gray asphalt, memories re-played, “Mi mamá era una persona juguetona así que hacía a todos

reír y mi familia era feliz con su presencia. Mi papá y mamá  estaban completamente enamorados.”

“¿Y como era tu hermana?”Now my steps faltered, “Creo que extraño más a mí hermana.

Ella siempre se colgaba de mi, básicamente nunca me dejaba ir, y ella nunca me enfadaba. Era súper tierna y me hizo muy feliz al verla sonreír porque era chimuela.”

After I said this, I remembered that I would never see her smile again, and my steps became slow and dragging with my eyes down-cast.

I felt Camila’s eyes on my face, I didn’t want to face her, she wouldn’t understand. She’s never had to experience the loss of a sib-ling.

Suddenly she asked a different question, “¿Como era estar en ese lugar?”

What? “¿Cómo era ‘que’?” I asked. “¿Cómo era estar en el lugar FARC, y vivir en la selva? ¿Cómo

se sentía vivir en la selva?” she clarified. Her question surprised me. I guess I should have expected it

though, considering how uneasy the silence was en ese momento. Also, I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to know más about the FARC.

I was glad this could distract me from my sad thoughts,“Bueno en el campo, yo siempre era infeliz, pero nunca lo podía demostrar. Era una forma de demostrar mi alianza total con el FARC.

Demostrar que me arriesgaría a morir por él FARC. Si yo no de-mostraba que yo era leal cada momento que podía, ese cruel y enojon señor me hubiera matado por ser un traidor. Aparentemente yo soy muy bueno en actuar, porque nadie sospechaba de mi.

A y claro excepción el comandante. Mono Jojoy era su nombre y a él nadie lo hacía menos, porque siempre me lo aseguraba a mi. Si no fuera por Tirofijo (o Manuel Marulanda Vélez) en confundir mi obediencia con la alianza hacia el FARC, Mono Jojoy me hubiera matado desde hace mucho tiempo.

Mono Jojoy notaba que yo estaba triste, siempre estaba atento a las expresiones de las caras o comportamiento de todos. El notó que era incomodo para mi las cosas que pasaban en el campamento. El notaba que no me gustaba lo que hacían en el FARC.

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The Road to NowhereDespués de que un prisionero nuevo llegaba al campamento, los

soldados eran temporalmente amables con ellos, pero con el tiempo, la amabilidad de los soldados se convierte en abuso. Los rehenes eran golpeados, malnutridos y eran forzados a marchas a través de la selva pura con amenaza de una bala en cualquier momento. Yo no podía soportar los secuestros de las FARC, sólo necesitaba un poco de persuasión de Camila para finalmente dejar de ser un cobarde. Sentía que si no seguía con las demandas de uno de los soldados de la FARC, me matarían instantáneamente. Tuve que hacerme de amis-tades, sabiendo que realmente no eran mis amigos y ser obediente y llevar a cabo las terribles órdenes inhumanas.

El FARC ha usado la violencia, el secuestro, y la extorsión como fuentes de influencia e ingresos.  Hay otras modos de encontrar la fi-nanciación, pero creo que lo hacen porque es la forma más fácil de hacer dinero. Detener este secuestro sería uno de los primeros pasos hacia la paz en Colombia. Darle valor a los derechos humanos. Los líderes no han llegado a esta conclusión pero . . . Esperemos que en el futuro lo hagan.

Justamente él tenía la razón porque yo no estaba de acuerdo con las acciones del FARC. Yo creía que si no seguía las demandas del FARC como soldado, me hubieran matado en ese instante. Tenía que tratar de hacer amigos y seguir las órdenes que eran horriblemente inhumanas. Gracias Camila, por darme el valor de huir.”

She shrugged, “Pues te tenía que convencerte a ti o morir.” I laughed at the complete honesty of that sentence.“Es verdad, pero me alegra que te haya convencido,” Camila re-

sponded.After a few minutes of silence, Camila asked another question,

“¿Pero como llegaste a estar con ellos desde un principio?”I scoffed at the mention of how it all started,“Nosotros éramos de

una clase de la alta sociedad y vivíamos en Cali al sureste de Colom-bia. Poquito después mis padres y María Teresa fueron asesinados cuando nos robaron la casa. Yo no tenía más familia en Colombia y me acuerdo tenerle mucho temor a los orfanatos, yo escuchaba histo-rias horribles en la escuela. Así que agarre mi mochila y me fugué a Buenaventura, donde un grupo de hombres del FARC  me ame-nazaron para que fuera parte del FARC. Viendo hacia atrás, me doy cuenta que la decisión que tomé de unirme al FARC fue muy mensa, era ingenuo al decidir fugarme de la casa.”

“No eres ingenuo. Eras sólo un pequeño asustado de este mundo terrible,” she smiled at me and I gave her a small genuine smile back, “además, si no te hubieras escapado tú nunca me hubieras salvado y allí me hubiera muerta.”

I nodded. Seconds later, Camila said, “¡Oh! ¡Ya casi llegamos a mi casa! Sólo un par de vueltas más."

Finally, we made it to Camila’s house. The gray asphalt rose into a clean rising driveway, blocked by a tall and intricately decorated gate and door. The house was surrounded by a tall white wall, but I could still see a large portion of the house. The brown doors on the top floor looked dark against the white paint of the house. Beautifully designed arches rose to the second floor. I couldn’t believe how ele-gant and beautiful the house looked. It reminded me so much of my old house. I frowned, but still stood there in amazement.

As Camila was digging through a potted plant by the gate door, I said, “¿Esta es tú casa? Me gusta.”

She replied with a quick, “Si y gracias,” and opened the door with the key she found. I could tell how excited she was to be home again. Her hands shook and she had a wide smile on her face. The gate door opened, and she ran to the front door. She knocked on it ceaselessly until it opened, and there stood her mother. Her hair was straight at the bottom but unkempt at the top. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and swollen with newly arriving tears. They both share re-semblance in their exhaustion.

Camila waited for her to look up. When she did, Camila’s mother’s eyes grew wide with shock and tears began to joyfully streaming down her cheeks.

She yanked Camila to her and squeezed her in a tight hug,“¡Oh Camila!¡Estás aquí! ¡¿Pero cómo fue que escapaste?! ¡No importa, ah gracias, Dios, por devolverla a nosotros! ¡Gracias, gracias!”

Camila didn’t look happy to hug her mother after thinking she would never see her again. She frowned with her chin squished to her mother’s shoulder. Her excitement earlier now seemed dishonest, like it wasn’t legitimate.

Her mother pulled away, and with high curiosity, she asked, “¿Cómo escapaste? ¿Acaso te dejaron ir?”

Camila answered, “No, me dejaron ir. Lucio me ayudó a es-caparme, yo estoy aquí por el.”

“¿Quién es Lucio?” Camila’s mother confusedly asked.

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The Road to NowhereCamila hesitantly pointed to me, standing next to her. Her mother

finally noticed me, and she pulled me into a tight hug, “¡Ah gracias, Lucio! ¡Gracias por salvar a mi niña! ¡Es una parte de la familia ahora! ¡Gracias!”

The hug made me feel uncomfortable. Not because it was Camila’s mother hugging me, but because I hadn’t been hugged in years. It brought back sorrowful memories of my own mother hug-ging me, and just the hug made me extremely sad. Camila could clearly see my discomfort and called her back.

“¿Dónde están papá y Santiago? Quiero verlos,” Camila asked, emphasizing Santiago. This is probably who she really wanted to see, her brother.

Her mother’s shoulders sagged, “Tú papá y yo tenemos que hablar contigo.” Camila frowned, and followed her mother into the house. I took my shoes off to be polite, and went to sit on a couch by the door.

This must be so nice. To live in a big house like this. With loving parents and a brother she can cling to like María Teresa clinged to me. I envy this. I haven’t had this type of life for years. Camila has proba-bly had nothing bad ever happen to her until she was kidnapped, and then she was saved, even then, and brought back to this paradise. I can’t believe I helped her escape, it was the right thing to do but she was only using me back at camp. And now, she has no need for me whatsoever. But where else can I go? It would be torture to stay with Camila, even though I know she was using me. But I really have no other choice.

I heard a loud commotion coming from upstairs. Doors were slamming and re-opening, someone was yelling, I wondered what was happening. Next, I heard Camila’s light but fast footsteps rushing down the stairs. She came into view at the doorway and ran to me. I could still hear voices arguing upstairs. She kneeled next to me, set-ting down two bags on either side of her.

“Tengo que irme,” she stated.“¿Que? ¿Pero porque te tienes que ir?” I asked, disbelieving. “Mis padres enviaron Santiago a los estados, no tenía opción en

el asunto pero ha ido y está allá. No quiero quedarme aquí, con mis padres exasperantes y con el peligro constante de ser tomado otra vez surgiendo sobre mi cabeza. ¿Me voy, quieres venir conmigo? Tengo un mochila empacado con la ropa de mi hermano, porque ustedes son de la misma talla,” she answered, anxiously waiting.

I stared at her in complete shock. I wasn’t sure what to say. But, I’ve also already decided. All I know is that I don’t want to be alone. I can’t just leave the FARC and then be on my own again, look at the choices I made back then, when I was in the same situation. Now, I’m even more unsure of what I could do without the FARC, and even more afraid that I won’t survive. Camila is the one person I’ve actu-ally trusted in a long time. Even if I feel like Camila was only using me, she’s the only person I have right now.

“De acuerdo, yo iré contigo,” I said resolutely. She smiled greatly and handed me the other bag. We stood up

and Camila began heading towards the door before she could experi-ence any inconsequential goodbyes. We walked out of the house, and through the gate door, heading North.

○○○

“Siento que he perdido a mi hermano, nunca no he hablado a él por tanto tiempo,” she said, one day during our journey. I scoffed in response.

“¿Algo malo pasa Lucio?” she asked.“Nada malo, todo esta bien.” “Obviamente algo malo traes en mente.”“Tú no tienes ningun idea de lo que se siente perder a alguien.” “¡Por supuesto que tengo una idea de lo que se siente al perder a

alguien! ¡Cuando fui secuestrada, estaba segura que nunca vería a mis padres otra vez, que nunca vería mi hermano otra vez!”

“Y ahora lo vuelves a tener todo. Su vida perfecta simplemente salta de nuevo a sus brazos"

“¿La vida perfecta? ¡Apenas me conoces Lucio! Mi vida no es perfecta.”

"Gran casa blanca. Padres amorosos. Un hermano que se pre-ocupa profundamente por ti. Eso no suena como el paraíso en todos."

“Porque vivo en una gran casa blanca, no significa que mi vida es perfecta. Y mis padres no son lo que crees que son ya que nunca los veo porque trabajan mucho y cuando los veo, no tienen tiempo para mí. Mi hermano era el único persona que sentía como mi familia real. Y ahora, la única buena persona que he tenido en mi vida, está a millas de distancia. Sólo estoy tratando de llegar a él. Lucio, mi vida no es perfecta como tu te imaginas,” she said strongly.

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The Road to NowhereOh no, all throughout her small monologue, I felt terrible. I feel

more dense now than I’ve ever felt before. “Lo siento, Camila. Creo que viendo tu casa y tus padres y el abrazo que te dio tu madre. Me hizo amargo y siento que saqué mi ira sobre ti ya que yo no tengo a mi madre. Siento horrible, Camila,” she softly advised.

“Está bien, Lucio, entiendo. Pero Lucio, tienes que confiar y de-jar a alguien que te ayude, porque es la única forma en que alguien te pueda ayudar. ¿No te pongas en la soledad, bien?”

“Bien, gracias, Camilla. Y encontraremos a Santiago. Lo verás otra vez, así me ayudará Dios,” I said gratefully.

She smiled back at me, and we kept going on our journey to the United States. Going along the coast is our goal, and we’ve decided we could figure out what to do along the way. Hopefully, we won’t have to separate.

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The Road to Nowhere

El Extraño

Evan LondonAs Sebastián walked up to the small, yellow New York apart-

ment complex, a wave of shock hit him. This is his new life. He didn’t know if he would ever be allowed to go back to his home in Colom-bia. He walked up the cement stairs with his two suitcases stuffed with all the clothes he could pack on such short notice. Sebastián’s aunt, Paula, unlocked the door, and walked in, turning the flourescent lights on. They flickered then spurged a steady flow of light. The apartment was small with tan walls. The entrance was in the dining room. The dining room was connected to the kitchen, which had a small counter that seated 3 people.

“Tú cuarto está en el pasillo a la derecha,” said his tía Paula, “puedes poner tus pertenencias en el armario.”

He walked past the kitchen to the hall and towards his new room. When the light was turned on, he saw his new room. It’s not as big as the old room he grew up in. He walked to the small twin bed pressed against the wall and threw his bags on it. He opened the window and watched the setting sun falling over the urban cityscape. Standing in front of the window, he felt the cool breeze gently brushing against him. The sounds of passing cars and occasional sirens replaced the squawks and whistles of birds living in the lush garden of his old home. After the long day, he laid down in bed. He sat still with his eyes open, worrying about his kidnapped fifteen year old sister, Camila, who’s back in Colombia. Trying not to think of what the FARC could possibly do to her made him think of it even more. He thought of his parents, questioning how they could possibly send him away. He laid there all night without sleep, trying not to think, but failing.

The next morning, he woke up and dressed himself in blue jeans. They were wrinkled from being stuffed in his suitcase, along with his wrinkled t-shirt which his dad bought for him three weeks before he left. He brushed his teeth with the toothpaste his aunt supplied for him. Then, he ran the cold tap water through his dark black hair. He walked into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Paula was in the livingroom sitting on the couch, watching her dramatic novelas.

“Si tienes hambre ahí está cereal en el derecho armario y leche en el refrigerador. Cucharas y boles son en el fondo cajón,” Paula told him, turning her head, but keeping her eyes on the screen.

“¿Has oído de mis padres?” Sebastián asked as he got the ingre-dients and poured his breakfast.

“No, lo siento. Solamente sé que vas a quedar por bastante tiempo,” she said as her eyes drifted from the TV to the floor.

He sat on the brown couch and watched the TV as he ate his ce-real. He hasn’t been eating much since his sister was taken two weeks ago, she was waiting for him to come outside so they could walk home together.

“En dos días, tú vas a asistir tu escuela nuevo. No va ser muy difícil por que tú sabes inglés,” Paula said as she forced an awkward smile on her face.

Sebastián sat silently, no longer eating the cereal after five or six bites. Instead he just gently stirred it with his spoon.

“¿Quieres que te de un recorrido de la ciudad? La ciudad es muy hermosa durante el otoño,” Paula asked with an enthusiastic tone.

“Sí. Eso sería divertido,” he replied, still looking at the now soggy bowl of corn flakes.

The radio was playing softly in the car as Paula talked about all the good and bad restaurants, places to hangout in your freetime, and places to go to get the best view of New York. As she spoke Sebastián didn’t listen. Instead he sat in his seat, staring out the front window. He felt overwhelmed by a wave of emotions. He felt betrayed and abandoned by his parents. He felt useless for not being able to help his sister.

Walking into his new classroom on Monday, the other students were restless in their seats. The teacher pointed to one of the empty chairs. He walked to the back corner of the room to the desk. As he walked, it felt as if all of the eyes in the room were following him. He sat in his seat for around two minutes while the rest of the kids in class continued talking. He felt like an outsider, alienated from the rest of the class. When the teacher, Mr. Frost, called for attention, ev-eryone immediately quieted down.

“Alright, class. We have a new student joining us today. If you could please stand for the class and state your name,” he said motion-ing his hand for Sebastián to rise.

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The Road to Nowhere“Hello, my name is Sebastián,” he said in his thick accent. When

he sat back down the rest of the kids in the class snicker together. When class started Sebastián had a hard time keeping up with the teacher’s pace. And to add to that, it was math class, and math is a subject he has always struggled in. He leans over to the girl on his left.

“Do you understand problem number 12? I am a bit confused,” he asked.

“I don’t think I can help you, sorry,” she replied looking at him from the side of her eye.

Then the boy sitting in the desk to his right leaned over to Se-bastián.

“I can help you,” he said cheerfully, “My name is Noah, by the way. Your new, right?”

“Yes, today is my first day here,” he told him.“Well it’s nice to meet you. I think you’ll like it here.” Noah ex-

claimed.He showed Sebastián how to work through the calculus that he

struggled with.Lunch was hard for Sebastián, he was standing there deciding

where to sit. People seemed to be off in their own groups so he thought it would be best to just find an empty table. He sat alone in the rows of red lunch tables picking at the school lunch that was thrown together on the navy blue tray. Other students would look back from their seat then turn to whisper with their friends. Back in Colombia he had always gone to the same school with the same friends, and now being the new kid he felt like an animal loose in the school. Eyes are constantly fixed on him. Then Noah, the boy that helped him in math class, came and sat next to him.

“Hey! It’s ok if I sit here, right?” Noah asked in a friendly tone.“Yes, of course,” Sebastián replied in a thick spanish accent.“Don’t even worry about the other kids starring. That’s how it is

with new kids, but only for the first few days.” Noah said, “So where are you from? Are you in some sort of exchange program?”

“I came here from Colombia. I’m living with my tiá Paula, be-cause my parents think it will be good for me to experience the way everything works in a different country.” He lied thinking the truth would be too much for his new friend to hear.

“Oh that’s pretty cool! How do you like it here so far?” Noah asked.

“It has been interesting. I still have to get used to being here I guess,” he replied.

“You’re living with your aunt so is the rest of your family still in Colombia?”

“Yes. My mamá, papá, and sister are still there,” he said turning his view to the ground, but quickly looking back up to his smiling friend.

Over the next two weeks Sebastián grew closer to his new friend. Having a friend around made it easier to live here away from his old friends. Though he had a friend, it wasn’t the same as having his sister around. He still waits for a call or a letter or any sign that his parents still know he exists. One night when he came home from school he started doing his homework but was interrupted by his aunt.

“¡Sebastián!” she excitedly shouted from the kitchen, “¡Camila la está teléfono!”

Sebastián dropped his pen and jumped up. He ran down the hall as fast as he could. He grabbed the phone from Paula’s hand.

“¿Camila?” He asked as if he didn’t believe it could really be her.“Hola Sebastián,” Camila answered softly. “¿Cómo estás hablando a mí?” he asked.“Yo estoy en casa. Yo estuve rescaté de gobierno,” Camila said. “Yo exstraño. ¿Cuando puedo ir a casa?” He asked, hoping he

could finally return home.“Debe permanecer en los Estados Unidos,” she said.“¿Por qué?” he asked.“Yo pienso que debería ir a los Estados Unidos. Yo no me siento

seguro en Colombia,” she said in a saddened tone. “¿Te van a dejar ir?” he asked.“Sí. Ellos piensan yo pasaré en América,” she told him. “Yo no creo por qué mamá y papá envié mi lejos mientras tú es-

tuviste en peligro.” He asked, making his negative feelings clear.“No puedes echar a nuestros padres la culpa. Ellos solo quieren

para tú.” She told him, trying to make him understand that it wasn’t their fault.

“¿Cuándo llegarás?” he asked, not acknowledging what she just said.

“Voy a llegar en dos semanas.” she said, “Yo debo voy. Yo no hablo ya.”

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The Road to NowhereThey said their goodbyes and hung up. Sebastián was extremely

happy that his sister was home and well. He couldn’t wait to see Camila again. All he could think about for the next two days was get-ting to see her again. She wasn’t only his sister but one of his best friends too. He had always looked out for Camila at home. She was very shy and he had always been more outgoing and social. She al-ways looked to him when she needed to talk.

At school Sebastián and Noah were eating their school lunches in the rowdy cafeteria. He told Noah about how his sister gets to come to America and he can’t wait for him to meet her.

“She is kind of shy, but after a while you’ll see she’s really fun and nice. I think you guys will really like each other,” he told Noah, excitedly.

“She sounds really cool. I can’t wait to meet her,” he replied.

When the two weeks passed, Sebastián waited excitedly in the apartment for his sister to walk through the front door. He could barely sit still. All that time away from her not even knowing if she was alive is over. She’s not only alive but she is going to be there with him in the U.S. He heard keys rattling as Paula unlocked the door. He jumped up from the couch to greet them. When he saw Camila he ran to her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a huge hug.

“¡No puedo creo tú está aquí!” he told her, still hugging her as hard as he could.

“Yo tambien extrañar tú,” Camila said, giggling. That night Sebastián and Camila ate dinner together for the first

time in over two months. Tonight he felt truly happy. Even though she was back she was different. Camila seemed more mature than be-fore, as if she could handle herself more than before. When Sebastián would bring up the fact that his parents sent him away when he should have been there to help find her in any way he could, making it obvi-ous that he was angry at them, she would calmly remind him that staying could put him in danger. Sebastián was stubborn so it would take a long time for him to forgive them. It was clear that she did not want him to experience what she went through. The FARC takes pris-oners deep into the Colombian jungle, far away from everything they’re captives have known. There must have been no hope of escap-ing for Camila.

Later that night when Sebastián and Camila were cleaning up af-ter dinner. He asked her, “So what happened to you? What was it like?”

“They took me while I was waiting for you to get out of school. They took me while no one was around. I rode in their car for an hour then we made a six day walk through the forest to their camp,” she said, with a blank expression. “When I was at the camp they kept my feet bound. It was hard but it’s over now.”

“I wish I was there. I could have tried to help,” he said. “No. There was nothing you could have done.” It was clear that

she didn’t want to talk about what happened anymore.

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The Road to Nowhere

Colombia

En El Borde: Parte 1 – Alex Soderberg………………….…...309Los Peligrosos Rutas De Columbia (Excerpt) – Nancy Gomez………………………………………………………...317En El Borde: Parte 2 – Gabriel Malcolm……………………..319

In these three action-packed emotional stories, Laura, Carlos, and Sebastian fight their way to the U.S border with different motives, but very similar enemies. These stories tell the tale that immigrants have faced, and while no short story could ever portray the struggle that faces those immigrants, these stories do their best to help you imagine each leg of the race. The immigrant stories are more than just ones of people; they are ones of family, loyalty, and fear. They impact more than just the immigrants themselves, they impact repub-lican and democrat alike. It is important that we recognize these sto-ries so that we can help these people.

En El Borde: Parte 1

Alex SoderbergTheir house is well isolated in the rain forest, but not hidden. The

family has large gardens in the clearing around their home. The house is neglected at most points of the day. Considering their successes the house is notably smaller than it could be. Her room is light blue with a pair of large windows. The walls are adorned with many polaroid photos of mentors, colleagues, and former patients. The bookshelf is filled to the brim with everything from the ‘Evolution of Species’ to ‘Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone’. Over her twin bed there is a map of everywhere she has been and everywhere she wants to go. On her night stand is her dad’s copy of ‘Political Liberalism’ and on her ceiling there is a map of the Milky Way. Her walk-in closet is a back-packers delight with everything someone would need to spend weeks on-end in the jungle.

This is one of the few times when the whole family was home for dinner and they weren't going to let the opportunity pass them by. There is a knock at the door,

“Esta lista la cena,” the voice chirps pleasantly. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes, mom,” she responds lazily. She hears her brother and sister race down the stairs. She rolls up

and out of her bed when she hears the windows downstairs are shat-tered followed by the ear splitting ring of gun fire. She trembles and tears well up in her eyes.

“It’s happening, they have come for us. The FARC have come for us,” she exclaims aloud mortified and stunned.

She has one option: run. She instinctively grabs her backpack and climbs out of her window and down the side of her house. Her escape attempt doesn’t go unnoticed by the FARC soldiers and as she sprints into the forest she can hear their equipment rattle around behind her.

“ ¡No puedes correr para siempre niña!” barks one of the sol-diers.

She knew better than to yell back, that would only make tracking her easier. The jungle grew more and more dense as she broke her way into the interior. The clutter atop the forest bed slowing her pace

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The Road to Nowhereto that of a steady hike, she heard the same voice bellow out from be-hind her.

“Do you think it’s over now, Laura?” he says with enjoyment in his voice. “No, no, no, we will chase you till the day you die and when you think you're safe you’ll be wrong, because you’ll never be safe,” he monologues snarkily.

She knew he was right, she would never be safe in Colombia. She also knew she couldn't make it out on her own. She knows her win-dow faces south so she needs to head west until she hits the river which passes through the town of Zungo Embarcadero where, suppos-edly, one of the only people who could actually help her live. There is a lot of mystery over who he is, where he came from, and why he does what he does. People call him el ángulo en desgracia. Laura could never find a consistent story, some say he fled the Dirty War leaving his family behind, others say he is a former communist in ex-ile, but no one really knows.

She fears traveling during the night without light, where one wrong turn could mean that she is stuck in the jungle for much longer than one would hope. As the daylight runs out, she climbs her way to the top of a tree and sets up her hanging sleeping bag.

The trees sway in the gentle breeze, the stars glimmer like jewels on a tapestry telling the story of the human race. The sounds of the jungle refuse to die with its movement continued well beyond the sun-set. The air is cool carrying the subtle scent of wildflowers. Despite the attempts of the jungle to lull Laura to sleep, She takes only a half second to think on the events of the day before she starts to cry a riv-er.Her breaths become short and loud. As the realization that she has no one left in the world for her, no mom, no dad, no brother to goof around with, no little sister to watch grow up, no shoulder to cry on, no one for wisdom, and no one for support, all hit her. Finally she give into an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and depression. She cries herself to sleep. For the first of many nights to come.

She sharply wakes to the unnerving and terrifying voice of the soldier from before.

“Her tracks lead here, Commander,” comments a lackey of his. “She can’t be far then,” he notes confidently. She seals her lips better than lock and key could for any whim-

per, the smallest sigh, or tiniest murmur and it would all be over for her. The air around her is still and she breaks into a sweat. The sun beats down on the top of her sleeping bag cooking her like a baked

potato. All sounds of the jungle seem to dissipate leaving her with only the sounds of the troops below. One of the men lights a cigarette and the smoke drifts up, filling the surrounding air with its nauseating fumes. She manages to maintain her composure and resist the urge to gag and cough. Her growing uneasiness and angst well up inside her making her more and more restless.

“We will continue this way,” commands the leader. The soldiers march off in a direction unknown to her. There is a

solid half hour where, out of fear, Laura doesn’t move a muscle. Once she packs her belongings she continues for town, for even if the FARC troops went that way el ángulo en desgracia is still her best chance of escaping.

The sun beats down on her with beams of heat. When Laura makes her way into Zungo Embarcadero she takes what little money she had on her when she was attacked to buy some food from a fruit vendor. In the distance a FARC soldier catches a glimpse of her and yells

“¡ES ELLA!”She ducks down behind the stand as a wave of bullets fly her

way. She sprints when a man opens his door with a panicked look on his face. He gestures Laura into his home,“You aren't safe out there.”

Without a second thought Laura sprints into this man's home. “Who you and why are they chasing you?” he asks in a demand-

ing tone. “My name is Laura. The FARC hated my family. My father was

a politician and a union activist, he opposed FARC so they came for us. Now I’m the only one left and they're trying to finish the job” she says short of breath, energy, and hope.

“Well as fate would have it, I might just be the perfect person for you to run into,” he counters.

“I’m not in much of a position to turn down help right now, so how can you help me?” she responded naive to the severity of the sit-uation

“People don’t call me ángulo en desgracia for nothing, so am I going to help you get out of this mess, or are you going to do it alone?”

“Si si si, yo no sabía que usted dónde. Lo siento mucho. ” she ut-tered in disbelief or the man whose home she accidentally found her way into.

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The Road to NowhereNext door there is the sound of gunfire as the FARC began their

raids. He grabs his things and as they quietly make their way to the back door they hear a bloodcurdling scream from the neighboring house. As they walk out the door there is the vendor who had sold fruit to Laura.

The man whispers, “Everything is going to be ok.”“Lo siento Louis,” whimpers the shopkeeper.“They’re over here,” yells the shopkeeper.“Necesitamos correr,’’ Luis says while urging me towards the

jungle..Guns fire at them as they became lost in the tangle of vegetation.

They continue to move until nightfall starts to set. Laura is climbing a tree to set up her sleeping bag, when she turns around and asks,“Why did you help me?”

“Let’s just say I made a mistake a long time ago, and now I help people to make up for that.”

The woods never sleep, there is always the hum of life. The air is more humid than normal and amongst the events of the day are mak-ing it hard to sleep. On nights like this she would pull out her satellite phone talk to her family. As Laura instinctively pulls out her satellite phone, the reminder of her family brings her to tears.

She woke to the the sounds of pouring rain. As she packs her things Luis yells up, “¿Tiene una lona resistente al agua?”

She rummages through her things for a moment.“Si, ¿Para qué lo necesitas?”“Just pass it down, we aren't moving today.”She climbed down and helped him set up the roof top. She sets up

a small fire in the corner to dry their things. They sit down near the fire and begin to ramble on for a bit, talking as if they had known each other for years. Eventually they end up on the topic of how they got to where they are today when Luis asks

“Why would FARC go all this way to kill you? They don’t typi-cally go so far to kill every loose end. ”

“My mother was a retired lawyer, who had sentenced hundreds of FARC troops. My father was a politician who protested FARC and helped start the gassings which crippled their cocaine production.”

“Well that would certainly put a bounty on your family’s head, but how did you guys not see something like this coming?”

“I don’t know, we had heard stories and asked the government for help, but they assured us that it would never happen, and that we

were out of the land they controlled. I guess they were wrong about that.”

There was a long uneasy pause. The rain continued its assault, but this didn’t stop the air from being warm and humid.

“What was the mistake you talked about last night?” questioned Laura.

“I don’t like talking about it. I was fifteen and naive, that's all you need to know,” said Luis.

“If I’m supposed to follow you around and trust you, I need to know why you are doing this,” she said.

“If I tell you my story you have to promise to hear me out, after if you want to part ways we can, but you have to lets me tell you the whole story,” he said.

“I promise,” Laura said eagerly.“Ok then…”

I was two when I was orphaned by the civil war. I lived on the streets until I was. For years I was orphaned and passed from home to home never getting a place to call home. I was nine when I had my first real opportunity to join FARC. I had heard about them before, but I never needed to. I made my living stealing on the streets, but I had run out of places to run. It seemed like my best option. They of-fered food, protection, a bed, and a family.

I trained with them for six years before they sent me on my first high stakes mission. Before this I carried out tasks such as supply and debt collection. That night we were raiding a mansion. It was fairly easy going, my squad mates took upstairs and eliminated the targets. Our contact had said the daughter was spending the night at a friend, so we continued on our way when I heard a sound emanate from the closet. I opened the door to find a 6 year old girl.

“Matarla,” barked my commander.I raised my gun, then my eyes met hers, and I could see her fear. I

threw down my gun.“No puedo, ella es sólo una niña,” I replied brokenly.“Si te planteo lo haré. Ahora recoge tu pistola,” he ordered me.As he raised his gun I could feel something wash over me. I lifted

my own and fired into his chest. “Everything is going to be ok,” I told her struggling to stay calm

and collected. “Follow me, I’m getting you out of here.”

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The Road to NowhereAs I turned around to run I could here my commander, struggling

for air, whimper out, “Traidor.”Three weeks later we ended up in Zungo Embarcadero. It was

perfect for hiding; small, secluded, and easy to run from if we ever needed to. I raised her, but eventually she found a husband and moved with him to Bogotá. It took me years to realize just how much FARC had changed me, and how much I hated them for it. I had to relearn how to be a human. I was so completely and utterly willing to die for those monsters. They brainwashed me into thinking that we were building a better Colombia, that we were the good guys.

As soon as Luis finished his story the rain lifted and the jungle awoke with sounds of life.

“We should get going. The rain helped cover our tracks, but they'll be all over that fire in less than an hour.”

Laura extinguishes the fire and Luis starts to break down the tarp. They continue on their march for the border. The jungle smells differ-ent to Laura after the rain. It’s cleaner per se. The sun is beating hard enough now that even under the thick canopy the heat is bothering her. The humid air sticks to her skin. The boring monotony of the hike allows her mind to wander for the first time in days. There is the loud blare of a helicopter and the same commander's voice that Laura has learned so well boomed over a megaphone,

“Luis, Luis, Luis, It’s so nice that our path finally cross again.”Luis turns to stone in shell shock. “Give yourself up now and we’ll only kill the girl, but if not we’ll

make it long and painful for the both of you, like it was for me all those years ago,” roars the megaphone.

“No, no no no no no, you died, I killed you, I shot you, I killed you, you son of a bitch,” yells Luis as he nearly broke into a panic at-tack.

“Let the hunt begin my friends.”“Leave me, Laura, if they catch both of us it’ll be worse for you,”

says Luis after regaining his composure.“No, we’re in this thing together now. I’m not leaving you here to

die,” she sternly barked back.“Laura this isn’t some kind of test, they heard me, and they’ll be

all over you in two minutes tops” commands back at her.

“Who put you in charge? Right now I see a broken soul trying to take the easy way out. If you're gonna sit here and die then I’m sitting here with you,” rebuts Laura.

“I’m not joking, Laura.”“Tampoco yo.”After an uneasy silence Luis hears soldiers getting close and rec-

ognizes the Laura won’t budge they would both end up dead if he didn’t give in.

“Ok, ok, let’s get out of here before we both end up dead.”With troops hot on their heels they break into a sprint. The thick

jungle floor engulfs their feet with each step in a conspiracy to slow them. The helicopter blades wroar in its pursuit. The ground troops in-ability to kill them angers commander Francisco and out of frustration he shouts.

“Fire the minigun, I don’t care who else dies as long as they do!”As the bullets rain down mere feet from Laura, one of said bullets

strikes Luis in the leg. He lashes with a painful scream as he falls in pain. Laura rushes over to help him up but instead accepting her help Luis shoves a paper into her hand whimpers.

“You can do it on your now, I know you ca.n”After that he goes unconscious. Laura  Picks up Luis’s gun and,

with rage in her heart, she fires up at Francisco's low flying heli-copter. As bullets clip the blades of the helicopter it starts to and a man jumps out of the side. His fall is broken by the treeline, yet he still falls flat on his back 20 feet from laura. Laura runs over to him and recognizing at first glance.It is the commander. She puts her foot to his throat, and lifts her gun.

“Do it,” he boasts. “I bet you won’t, because you're still just a scared little girl running from the scary bad guy.”

“It would be so easy to kill you for all of the hell you’ve put me through, and I would never feel bad about, not once in my life.”

“Then do it.”She pulls the gun up and fires into the trees.“But, I would be just as bad as you.”She knocks him out with the butt of the gun and continues the

run, her run on the edge.

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The Road to Nowhere

Los Peligrosos Rutas De Columbia (Excerpt)

Nancy GomezEn un pequeño sótano oscuro, donde hay palabras escritos en las

paredes, me siento atrapado, y solo. En el país que vivo en es muy peligroso, y siempre escuchó disparos y gritos, por las noches. Un dia, yo estaba en mi cama hablando con mi novia de las tres semanas que han pasado. En estas semanas, perdimos muchos alimentos y provi-siones. Mi padre es el líder de una pandilla de comercio de drogas, y el lleva las drogas a los Estados Unidos para ganar dinero, es un tra-bajo muy peligroso. Odio que mi padre me está amenazando para unirme con su pandilla, no quiero tener ese tipo de vida. Yo quiero vivir feliz con la persona que yo amo.  

   “Vivimos en un lugar muy peligroso, y riesgoso. Yo puedo ser asesinado por las pandillas. Debemos de ir nos a los Estados Unidos, para vivir en paz sin preocupaciones,” Le digo a mi novia,  Esperanza.

“¿Cómo vamos a llegar? Colombia está muy lejos de Estados Unidos. Y como vamos a atravesar  la frontera, si no  tenemos ningún pasaporte o visa, ni dinero, para poder vivir en otro país. " Me dice mi novia.

"Yo robaré dinero de mi padre. El fue injusto conmigo. El me hizo vivir en un pequeño sótano. Yo no pienso en él como un ver-dadero padre, y vaser muy peligroso tomar  dinero de él, y salir de este país." Le digo, a Esperanza.

“Okay, Viajaremos  a Estados Unidos,” Me dice.

Cuando me levanto de la cama, empiezo a empacar todos lo que necesito para llevarme a los Estados Unidos. Esto incluye  ropa y una cobija para dormir. Tomó otra mirada antes de irme. Tengo que   tener cuidado con las guardias, porque  sé que  robarme el dinero de mi papá no va hacer facil.

Intento no hacer mucho ruido, cuando bajó la escaleras. Escucho que mi papá está durmiendo. Rápidamente tomo el dinero de la mesa. ido a Esperanza que busca una cuerda alrededor de la habitación. Ve una cuerda debajo de la mesa, y la agarra para traerla a mi.

“Ten cuidado con la cuerda, y amarra en la silla, para que po-damos bajar por la ventana,” Le digo, a Esperanza.

Cuando salimos de la ventana, la  alarma piensa a sonar porque tuvimos que salir más  rápido de la ventana. Ahorra las guardias están tratando de capturar nos.   Empezamos a correr por la ciudad , tratando de perder la guardias, que estan atras de nosotros, gritando nos y tratando de parar nos. Porfin los perdimos que fue una lucha. No plane muy bien, cómo voy a llegar a los Estados Unidos. Veo un barco, que le pido a una persona si me la puedo llevar. Cuando me dice que si me la llevo al rio.    

“Ha sido horas. ¿Sabes dónde estamos, tienes un mapa con usted?" Me pregunta Esperanza.  

“Tengo una mapa donde me dice  a través de los ríos de Colom-bia, y cual me lleva a Panamá," Le digo,  a Esperaza.  

Muchas horas han pasado, y nos acercamos a la frontera. Hay una separación entre Panamá y Colombia, que es una selva tropical. Aquí no hay ninguna rutas para llegar a Panamá. El lodo en mis pies está frío, y el  huelo el olor de plantas, mientras caminamos por la  selva tropical. Me acostumbre al sonido del agua y los insectos. No tenimos otra opción, menos que caminar por la selva. . Sólo tenemos una mapa para llegar a Panamá, pero no hay los enseña las rutas de la  selva tropical. Ha sido un largo camino. No quiero ir a través de los ríos, porque puede ver cocodrilos. Las extrañas criaturas en los árboles, me daban miedo porque no sabía si eran venenoso o no. Porfin llegamos a unas  tiendas, en las que personas que viven en la selva trabajan en.  

“Voy a preguntar dónde está la ruta para cruzar la selva tropical.” Le digo a Esperanza.

“Perdone, ¿Por donde  es la ruta en que me lleva a Panamá.” Le pregunto, Le dejó una  persona que.

“Si usted va a través del río llegarán  más rápido, pero tengan cuidado con los animales salvajes. Tome mi barco si la necesitas,” Los dicen, a mi novia y a mi.

Empieza a llover. No tenemos nada para cubrirnos de la lluvia. Puedo escuchar, los cantos de los pájaros y el sonido del río. Los subi-mos al  barco y empezamos   a paser por el río. Cuando estamos pasando por el río, y me empieza a dar hambre, y en ese momento pienso que  hubiéramos conseguido comida, durante el largo camino.

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En El Borde: Parte 2

Gabriel MalcolmEverything has led to this moment. Carlos’s heart has never

beaten this fast in his life. He recognizes four men’s uniforms. “Stop! Detender! I will shoot!” Carlos yells to the four FARC

soldiers. They stop dead in their tracks, none of them prepared, with their guns on their backs. The ground beneath their feet is unforgiv-ingly hard and cracked like the scales of a lizard. The midday sun scorches the desert surface.

“Slowly turn to me,” Carlos barks. Between them and Carlos, he estimates around seventy yards. They are within his rifle’s range.  

Having to raise his voice for the distance, he shouts, “Which one of you is Francisco? ¿Quién de ustedes se llama Francisco?” Carlos gets no response, and can hear the faint sirens headed towards them. With barely any eyesight from the relentless, whipping sandy desert winds, he lets all twenty-nine rounds go on all four men.

Carlos nearly goes deaf from the numerous explosions that come out of his rifle. His nose is overwhelmed by the smell of gunpowder. His hands go numb, the pins and needles in his shoulder, eyes blurred still. He remembers his hands bloody and smelling of brass cleaning his gun, loading and unloading waiting for this day. Carlos drops his gun in disbelief with ears ringing out of his skull and walks over to the nearly dead soldiers. A muffled, raspy voice comes from one of the bodies on the ground;

“Yo…., yo soy Francisco.” Carlos quickly goes to the dying sol-dier. He grabs the soldier by the neck and says,

“!¿Porque?! ¿Por qué mataste mi padre?”The soldier smiles, despite being so close to death, and says,“I’d recognize that face anywhere. You’re Carlos’s boy, aren’t

you?” Carlos feels his throat tightly sealed, his muscles feeling like

jarred glass. All he can do is nod his stiff neck. “I knew it-” The soldier is cut short by his condition, and barely

has the strength to cough blood at Carlos’s face.Fearing he will pass out soon from the multiple gunshot wounds,

he says to Carlos, “Tu Padre era mi amigo, Carlos. Su muerte fue… un accidente. His death… was an accident.”

The soldier’s body relaxes all at once and his head flops back-wards. Carlos lets go of the man, along with his rage; for his father has been avenged.

Carlos looks around with stinging, bloody eyes and to his utter disbelief sees a woman. Her beauty is unlike anyone Carlos has ever seen. Smaller build, maybe mid 20’s, a prisoner he rationalizes. She was hit with one of Carlos’ bullets, and is still breathing. The sirens in the distance are getting louder. If they find him unharmed they will know he was responsible, Carlos quickly takes his gun and tosses it out of sight. From one of the FARC soldiers he takes a knife and cuts his arms where a slave would be cut. This causes beads of sweat to form on his forehead, running into his eyes, and mixing with the sand. His sweaty palms cause sweat to drop into the open wounds. The knife slips, making it harder to cut himself. He kept going as much as he could bear before tossing it aside and passing out next to the woman.

Carlos dreams of his house when he left, awash with the deep black of the infinite night sky and soothed by the sound of flowing water nearby, often putting the home to sleep. Pure serenity and calm-ness flows through his body that is getting moved to a hospital. His mind becomes at peace, his senses at rest.

“Carlos…” a faint, old voice utters from the main bedroom. “Mijo!” Carlos bursts into the old house, loud and quick creaks come

from the old wooden floors. “Aquí mama, aqui,” Carlos says, as he rushes to his mother’s bedside. The moonlight shines on her wrinkled forehead. She is sweating. “What is the matter, mama,” Carlos says, worried for his mother.

“I have a dream mijo. You left me and I no catch you. Don’t leave me, Carlos. I beg you.” Carlos taught his mother English one year ago and it seems to him she’s getting a hold of it. He lays next to his mother holding her tight, unable to tell her that he must leave her, and soon.

That morning, his mother awoke to the warm sun, but no son. The air smells of fruit, and after walking into the kitchen, she sees fresh fruits and vegetables waiting for her on the kitchen table that Carlos picked and washed around greylight. She calls for Carlos to come inside, still unsettled from last night. Carlos is busy trying to

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The Road to Nowherepush the final bullet in his thirty round magazine but his youthful fin-gers just aren’t strong enough yet. He comes inside from his usual post outside the front door, guarding the home front through rain and storm. His father’s death has hardened Carlos mentally to a point he may not return from. Along with his father’s jobs becoming his, he was given a fire in his chest that burned continuously for revenge. He’s made up his mind. To move on, he must go after the man re-sponsible for killing his father.

Carlos looks in his mother’s direction, almost tearing up. “Tengo que irme, Maria.” Musty, thick silence flows freely through the empty space of their home.

“No,” his mother knows he is serious when he uses her name. Memories of her only child flood her mind and leak from her eyes, “Mijo. ¿Muerto? Porque mijo… porque… por-“

“I must do this! You know I will never sleep until he is dead.” Carlos’ sharper tone stops her mind from racing. With a more calmed mind she sits down at the table next to her and Carlos does the same. With a great deal of focus laced with calm in her eyes, Maria speaks again.

“What will I do without you? What if the man you chase hurt you?”

“I will see you again,” Carlos says, being careful to only make promises he can keep.

“Please, mijo,” Maria says, glassy eyed still.

Carlos is woken by the monotone chatter of hospital staff. Sweat is trickling down his forehead into his poor eyes barely open, still ad-justing to the brightness of the room he is in. Looking around with his ever stiff neck, he is atop a hard hospital bed. Still in his own blood-ied up, dirty clothes. He jumps out of the bed, extremely light headed from his injuries. He grabs onto the side of the hard bed to gain his balance again. They don’t notice him yet. He attempts to open the window on the opposite side of the room; it’s unlocked.

Without hesitation he jumps out of the window, plants his worn out feet and takes off. Carlos knows as long as there’s blue in the sky he cannot be seen if he wants to live. Halfway to the fencing around the hospital he stops dead in his tracks and remembers the girl. What will happen to her? Against the very bones in his body he couldn’t leave her to the hands of the FARC. If she were to get deported, there would be no chance of her to live.

Before Carlos knows it he’s back at the window he had jumped out of, peering inside slowly. He quickly pulls his head away from the window.

“Search everywhere! He couldn’t have gone far. Transport the girl to get processed.” Carlos ducks under the window and bolts, mak-ing his steps quiet to where the transport vehicles are. He skids to a stop at the edge of the building and sees three guards putting the girl into the van. Two men in green get into the van while the other shuts the rear van doors. Carlos is too late.

His only option would be to jump into the back of the van, but Carlos fears he won’t see his mother again if he does. The van starts to roll forward and out of instinct Carlos runs towards the truck and opens the door. He hops into the back of the moving van and slowly closes the door. The van continues on, giving him hope that they are unaware of him.

Carlos finally sits down on the prisoner bench across from the girl. She is unconscious, but he must speak with her.

“Hello? Please wake up,” Carlos gets no response. “Oye! Desper-tarse!” Carlos says, finally waking her up.

“Uhhh. Quie. Que. Pas,” the girl says barely waking up, eyes squinted, courtesy of the medication from the ‘hospital’.  

“¿Cómo te llamas?” Carlos gets no response. “My name is Carlos Alvarez. I am from Colombia,” Carlos says, hoping she responds to something he says. Her eyes open wide instantly, making Carlos jump back.

“Quien eres,” she says with a renewed level of awareness.  Carlos’ voice goes soft, “Mi nombre es Carlos. ¿Que es tu nom-

bre?”“Laura,” she replied. “¿Dónde vamos?” “Los Estados Unidos,” Carlos says. “Ellos nos están llevando a la

U.S , y no pueden volver a Colombia.” Silence begins to roll over the two of them. “¿Habla Inglés?”

She hesitates, almost ashamed of the question, and to Carlos’ re-lief responds.

“Yes, pero… I am scared. And I cannot return to Colombia as well.” She goes to move but she is as exhausted as Carlos.

Carlos believes she knows basic English. They sit opposite of ea-chother on prisoner benches, silently somehow comforted by one an-other. The van has driven a good distance now, and Carlos hears the

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The Road to Nowhereloud, squeaky brakes scream and makes the van lean forward until fi-nally coming to a stop. He hears the driver and passenger get out, along with muffled chatter. He sits next to Laura and pretends to be tied up as well.

“Make yourself look tired,” Carlos says to Laura. Laura nods. The van doors burst open. “Out! Fuera!”Carlos and Laura sulk, looking half awake out of the van and fol-

low the direction of the men in green. A badge on each of their shoul-ders, Border Patrol. Carlos has no idea where they will be taken, but he does know one thing; they’re not going back south.

Both Carlos and Laura get moved into a seemingly unmarked building, one story high, and from the back entrance seemed govern-ment-owned. The Border Patrol agents force them apart and into sepa-rate rooms, both with big, wide mirrors where a window would be. Carlos starts to feel beads of sweat gather on the creases of his fore-head. The agents start speaking to each other in English, and Carlos pretends not to hear them.

“Let's just question them and bring them back to the border.”“You know we can’t do that, if we get caught and charged with

pushback we could lose our jobs-”“Then we don’t get caught.”“No, we’re doing this by the book. If you have a problem, why

don’t you go ask the chief what he thinks?”One of the agents turns away and closes the door behind him. “Okay, let’s get started. ¿Cómo te llamas?”Carlos continues to blankly stare into his sweaty, dirty palms that

combined sweat and sand to make a paste. “¿Es ella tu hermana?”Carlos stays silent. The room smells of the very paste on his

hands and like men that have been working in the sun all day. Seem-ingly on cue, the agent’s radio crackles and a voice comes through; the other agent.

“Scchhkk… hey we need some help outside moving the vans, you copy? Scchhkk”

The agent with Carlos picks up the radio from his waist without breaking his cold, curious stare at him and replies, “I’ll be right out”

The agent leaves and just before the door closes, Carlos jumps out of his seat without making too much noise and stops the door from closing completely. He peers around looking left, then right,

then left again and sees no one. He leaves the room with his heat nearly pounding out of his chest. He wants to find Laura. Carlos looks at the room he was in; ‘Interrogation Room 1’.

He starts down the hallway, checking each door. He finally comes to the last door in the hall near an exit; ‘Interrogation Room 2’.

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Colombia

Nada Queda – Skye Webb………………………………..…..327Deseo – Mayra Garcia………………………………………...335Comer, Repartir, Amor – Griffin Benitez…………...………..347

These three stories are based on Colombian migration. With the F.A.R.C being an integral part of two of these stories and gangs being a part of the other it shows the dangers of Colombia, and the undying spirit of man. Follow two teenagers across separate stories forced to be a part of the F.A.R.C. A series of conflicts leads to them seeking a better life away from Colombia.   While the other story, offers an al-ternative, rarely told perspective about an American drug dealer who migrates to Colombia for personal gain.

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Nada Queda

Skye WebbI look over at my sister Rosa remembering life before this. When

we were young everything was so simple, so easy, but now everything has changed. We were taken by the FARC, when we were just kids. My sister felt like it was her responsibility to take care of me, no mat-ter what. When this happened, she felt like she was at fault. They left nothing for us to go back to. My family lived in a small village right along the line of the forest. One day the FARC invaded and there was nothing we could do to stop it. My father told us if we did what they said and we would be okay. Then a big man grabbed my sister and I, and shoved us into a jeep. All I remember is the cold metal touching my skin. The jeep began to drive away, and the last thing I heard was two loud gunshots echoing around me.We drove for what seemed like days and when we finally  stopped, it was so they could throw food scraps and a bottle of water to us like animals. We didn't say anything, just inhaled the food. The air was so dry and cold, my sister and I held onto each other for warmth. We had no clue what would happen to us. We then got back in the car and started driving again. Then they stopped for good this time and we heard talking.

“¿Ahora dónde los llevamos?” said one of our drivers, glancing at us through the rear view mirror.

“En el corrado con los demas.” he replied, spitting on the ground. Once they took us out of the car all we could see were trees, and then our little tiny camp. One of the men pushed us forward and my sister fell to the ground.

“¡Oye!” I shouted, fuming with rage, “esa mi hermana.”“Tu nos perteneses,” he said, throwing me to the floor, and ever

since then we’ve lived with them waiting for someone to come to take us away from this nightmare.

“Despiertate,” the camp guard yells. “Es hora de entrenar.”Today was Rosa’s birthday, she is turning seventeen. Even

though we couldn’t really celebrate, we both knew that today was special. I nudge her awake telling her to get ready. When we were ready we followed everyone else towards the section of the camp we all ate at. After getting a small amount of food I push half onto hers,

telling her happy birthday. We proceed afterwards toward the range. It was the same routine we’ve been doing for  three years. As long as we do what they say then we’ll be okay I continually thought to my-self. We get to the range and they start to hand out guns. Three years and we've never had to actually use them.We wake up and go to the range doing the same thing over and over day after day. The only thing that keeps me going is Rosa, she is the reason I haven’t given up.

“¡Mierda!” the guard shouts.Everyone takes their shot at a big tree in front of us. Echoes crack

in the distance for a few seconds till finally dying out. This filled the air with silence, until the next shot. We do this for a few hours till the guard yells at us to stop, then walk in a line back towards camp. When it's finally time to go to sleep we all huddle into our tiny shack and wait for the next day.

The next day begins with the same routine. Once we get to the range they begin to hand us guns. Rosa was next in line, but she won’t take it,

‘Take the gun,” the man holding it out yells. She just stands there, not saying a word. “If you don't take it you're going to the cell.” He gives his last

warning. She eventually takes the gun and lines up with the rest of us. This

continues for a few weeks.

 “Despiertate,” Rosa whispers at me during the night, “los debe-mos que ir.”

“¿Que?” I reply confused and rubbing my drowsy eyes. “Me escuchaste los vamos.”“¿Estas seguro?¿que si los cachan?”“No los podemos quedar los debemos que ir ahora,” she says agi-

tated and anxious. Her face is desperate and worried, I can tell she knows what’s going to happen.

“Esta bien,” I say.Quietly we sneak out of our cabin. I try to guide my way around

not being able to see my hand in front of me, disoriented I stumble onto the ground.

“¿Rosa?” I whisper not being able to see her.

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The Road to Nowhere“Toda avi estas aqui” she replies softly. I smell the cigar smoke

from the guard cabin next to ours. It almost outweighs the scent of the big trees all around our camp.

“¡Oye!” someone I can't see yells at us.“¡Corre!” Rosa yells knowing that we have been spotted, “¡en el

bosque!”We run, all I can hear are the alarms of the camp and the cracks

of the sticks breaking under our shoes. And then I see a light at my feet flickering on and off at our backs. We keep running until, Wham! I’m sent flying to the ground. I turn around to see my foot stuck in an exposed tree root.

“¡Corre!” I shout to Rosa, “Te debes que ir”.“No te voy a dejar,” she cries out, tears coming off her cheek as

the guards start to close in. “Lo siento,” I tell her with tears running down my face.It all happens so fast, one holds me as the other grabs her. I force

myself to look away, this was my fault. All I can do is listen. I only hear her cries and the bare fists against her skin. I open my eyes but see nothing. The air is so cold and the sky is black. I’m helpless. It continues for so long until I couldn't sit and listen for any longer.

“¡Parale!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Then their attention turns to me. They kick my ribs so hard all I’m able to do is let the lit-tle access air out of my lungs.

With my last breath, I wheeze, “Just let her go.”But they aren’t going to listen. They grab us both and drag us

back to the camp. I can hear Rosa resist and before I’m thrown into the cell, I watch her spit on the guard’s shoe.  Before anything hap-pens I’m kicked inside my cell.

I have no idea what’s going to happen to my sister. I’m so over-whelmed with thoughts I can’t sleep. The tiny cell smells like mold and dirt. I clumsily feel around because I can’t see. I get into the cor-ner and put my back to the wall. I don’t know what to do. What feels like days goes by without them throwing in food or water. Then it’s over. I give up all my hope of ever leaving. I realize that no matter what we do, or how hard we try they will always win. Once they let me out they throw me to the floor and kick my ribs. It was unbear-able, but the thought of finding my sister keeps me strong. They even-tually stop and  tell me to never to do something like that or it'll be a lot worse next time.

   I walk off looking for Rosa. I can’t find her anywhere. I run to the shacks, and any other place she could be.

Then out of the guards’ tent she walks. I run over to her crying.“Are you okay?” I ask short of breath, just happy knowing that

she was alive. “Fine,” she replies tiredly and sadly. Looking at her was so hard,

her face was purple with bruises and her arms and legs were red with open wounds.

“Let me help you to a bed,” I beg. She doesn't say anything just a slight nod and I gently grab her arm and we start walking. We get to the shack, I lay her down slowly and sit on the corner of her bed.

“I'm sorry,” I apologize softly full of regret. “We shouldn’t have gone.”

She replies, “I should've known we wouldn’t make it.” Her voice is full of pain and suffering. She knows we won’r last here, and that was our only shot at getting out.

After a while I fall asleep. In the morning, I'm woken, as always, by the wake up call. We walk out sloppily and smell the dew from the rain last night still clinging on to the grass beneath our feet.

I stop to look at Rosa. “We’ll be okay,”  I say as proud and hope-ful as possible, “We have to be.”

As we continue our day we go through the same exact steps as every other. Almost like every single day is a reflection of the day be-fore. It happens the same over and over until one day a few months later, the commander calls me into his cabin to talk. For a while we just sat looking at each other.

“I've heard quite a bit about you,” he says with a grin on his face. “You're a very good shot.”

I shrug my shoulders and reply, “I'm alright. Nothing special. What do you want with me?”

“I want to help you,” he says as if it were obvious. “And your sis-ter.”

“Why would you want to help us,” I say frustration in my tone.“You were the one who brought us here.”“I want to help you get out,” he says.“What?! Why would you let us leave.”“Let you? No, I’m giving you a way,” he gloats. “You're going to

have to do a few things for me first.”

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The Road to Nowhere“Why would I do that?” I ask with my suspicion starting to rise.“Because you're desperate, you and your sister both, and I'm will-

ing to let both of you go if you do this for me.”“What do I have to do?” I reply ashamed, my head down on the

floor palms in my lap.“There's a government official I'd like to have a word with.”“So I have to get him for you?”“Yes, exactly it might be difficult, though, all you have to do is

get him to me.”“Alright, I'll do it, as long as you promise to let my sister and I

go,” I say with shame in my voice. I never wanted to have to fight for them, but it's the only way we

could get out, and I couldn’t miss that opportunity. We needed to get out. I walk back to my cabin my shoulders heavy and a huge pound-ing sensation banging on my chest. I got back to my cabin and tell my sister what was going to happen.

“We can't do that,” she replies.“You think I want to? I wouldn't even think of this unless there

was no other option.” I'm starting to get red with frustration. “ I was thinking of you! We can't stay here and you know it.

“You're right,” she sadly says. “We do have to do this if we want to get out, I just don't want to have to do that to someone.”

“I know,” I reply, and with my eyes to the floor then back at her, “It's the only way we can get out.”

The next morning is cold and crisp. When I whisper to my sister to wake up I can see the heat of my breath as it disappears into the air.

“How are we going to do this?” she asks sleepily sitting up in her bed.

“I have no clue, I'll go see what is supposed to happen,” I reply while tying my shoe. I begin to walk out the door and before I'm out my sister comes up and hugs me.

“Be safe please?” she says “I don't want to lose you.”“I'll be safe, I promise,” I reply gently pushing her away so I can

walk out the door. Once my feet hit the dirt my stomach drops. I over-think everything. My knees give out and I collapse to the ground. I don’t know why but I can’t get up, so I sat there. I can feel the cold hard dirt beneath my hands and see the condensation dripping off the plants around me. No matter what I want to do I can’t move.

Eventually, I was able to focus on what I needed, getting my sis-ter and me away from this life. I get back up to my feet and jog my

way over to the commander's cabin. I knock twice before stepping back.

“Hello, Valentino,” he says smugly, slowly beginning to grin.“Yeah, yeah,” I reply. “Just tell me when we have to go.”“Tomorrow,” he says. “Early before anyone wakes up, I will

have two guards waiting outside your cabin with a car. From there you will go to the extraction point and take him.”

“Alright,” I say looking anywhere but his eyes. “We’ll get ready then.”

I begin to walk back, but before I get too far the commander yells, “Wait! Remember, if you try to run again we will shoot you.”

I don't say anything, just look away and keep walking. I get to my cabin and tell my sister everything.

“Are you ready for this?” she asks me, but I can tell she isn’t just asking me but herself as well.

“Yeah, I mean, ready as I'll ever be.”We don’t sleep that night, just wait. Wait for the signal for us to

go.My sister and I don’t talk, just stare at each other for hours. We

know what we have to do and we know how we will feel afterwards. Then it’s time. The guards open the door to our shack and look at us. We get up and slowly follow them to the car that is waiting for us. The truth is no matter how much we prepared for this we wouldn't ever be ready. It’s early, early enough that we can’t see the road in front of us because of the fog. The drive is long, but it is something my sister and I never want to end. We still don’t want to do it. It’s ten minutes away from our target and I start to feel really hot. I roll down the window and stick my head out to hurl. It doesn’t stay in, but once it was over I feel more confident. Hoever, my hands are still twitchy, and I can’t seem to keep my leg from bouncing.

Then it was time.I yell, “Let's go!” to my sister right before the car stops in front of

his. We jump out and start for their car.Then people come out. “Get down!” they yell at us pointing their

guns. We run towards cover and start shooting. The sound is unbear-able. All I can hear is the gunshots around me. We take most of them out until someone comes from behind me.

“Freeze!” he screams, “Or I will shoot.”

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The Road to NowhereAt this point I think we are done, no turning back no being free.

Then, my sister runs toward us from behind him and says, “Drop it, we don’t want to hurt you, just drop it.”

He turns around slowly until BANG! Everything goes dead quiet.I get up and unload on the officer. Then I drop my gun and run.

My sister is on the floor. I grab her and hold her to my chest. The dark red and brown liquid is slowly seeping into my clothes. It’s warm against my body. I let everything out and scream at the top of my lungs. Rosa is dead, and it’s all because of me. I begin to remember every part of my life with her, from early birthdays to running around exploring. I can’t take it, I look over and see our driver carrying the target into the car. I lay Rosa’s head on the ground and run. I don’t look back and I don’t slow down. I just run. Then it was done, I was in the forest. I was one more step to becoming free.

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The Road to Nowhere

Deseo

Mayra GarciaColombian weather being very bipolar with the morning sun dry-

ing up last night’s rain puddles. I look up to my dad with the sun stinging my eyes from our small and white like any other ordinary doorway.

“Papá, me prometes que te vas a venir a la casa hoy?” le pregunté a papá.

“Te lo prometo Leyla pero el paramilitar es mi trabajo y es muy peligroso,” el me dijo, “Te amo Leyla, ya me tengo que ir adios te miro arato,” papá me dijo walking out the front door he looks back giving me a smile before it closes.

Yo sabía que su trabajo era peligroso, y le di un abrazo apretado. Having nothing else to do on the weekend I go outside to ride around the neighborhood on my bike. I get bored quickly and pedal back to my welcoming yellow house that always makes me smile. White roses give a lovely aroma around the house, lighting up the family's spirit. I walk up to the door hearing my mom shout to Camilo.

“Camilo, don't stay out too late,” Camilo runs past me with a soc-cer ball in hand, creating a slight gust of wind.

“Guess he's going to play soccer with some friends today,” I think to myself as I walk inside.

“Hola mama,” I greet her while helping myself to a banana from the fruit basket on the table.

“Hola mija, la cena va estar lista en un hora,” ella contestó.I walk to my room on the far right in the hallway full of framed

memories. Wasting the hour away finishing up a book for school I hear my mom.

“Leyla la cena está listo llama a tu hermano que venga para comer,” ella me informa.

“Ok ya voy,” yo le responde agarrando el teléfono de la casa para llamar lo.

“Hola,” Camilo dice en el teléfono.“Camilo, mami dijo que te vengas a la casa para comer” yo le

dije. “Ok ya me voy” el dice colgando el teléfono.

Hearing the sound of my dad's car rolling, I hear him walk to-wards the door. In a instinct I run towards the door to welcome him as soon as I open the door I get a sudden push back. I turn and run to-wards the window to get a better look on what's going outside. With one glance I knew where he was from la Fuerzas Armada de la Rev-olución Colombiana (F.A.R.C.).

“Leyla escondite es un emergencia,” mi mama me dijo en un susurrar.

“Mama por que esta la F.A.R.C aquí?” le pregunté. “No te preocupes no mas es tu papá y él, tu papá sabe cómo pro-

teger a sí mismo,” mi mama me seguro.I crouch down from view, my mom is shaking enough to create

an earthquake. Our attention focuses on my dad trying to hear what they are saying.

“Que realmente quieres,” mi papa pregunto con cuidado.“No mas estoy aqui para darle lo que mereces,” el hombre re-

spondió con un voz bajo.“Tu mataste a mi hermano, mi parejo y te voy hacer la mismo a

ti.”He slowly lifts up his gun making everything around me slow

down, my heart nearly stops with anxiety. The sound of a soccer ball being bounced up and down grabs everyone's attention. Emerging down the street is Camilo oblivious to everything.

“Camilo no te hagas mas cerca, esta muy peligrosos” Papá gritó.Camilo’s eyes got filled with fear, barley reading the situation in

front of him. He looks towards the man holding the gun towards my father and freezes in fear.

“Que tenemos aqui? El es tu hijo verdad?” El hombre de F.A.R.C. preguntó apuntando la pistola a Camilo. I watch in horror as he plays with my brothers life.

“No la lastimes” papá grito trying to make the man point his gun his way again.

“Por que? tu tomastes alguien que yo amo, solo voy aser lo mismo a te,” el hombre habló.

I didn't know my world could turnaround in less than a minute, I watch his finger pull the trigger. The bullet flying aiming at my little brother. All of a sudden my father runs faster than I have ever seen jumping in front of Camilo. Nothing makes sense anymore his beating heart takes his last breath from the silver killer. Tears run down my

328

The Road to Nowherecheeks feeling the salty drops on my lips. Camilo’s hands are covered the red stains kneeling down praying to god to return him to us.

“Papá despertate!!, Por favor te amo,” de rodillas y ojos ahogados en lágrimas.

Pointing the gun at my mother and I freezing both of our bodies awaiting to die on the spot he says in a powerful voice,

“Tu sigues.”As quickly as he spoke he walks back into the nearest rainforest

hiding in the shadows. Without caring if the coast was clear my mom runs to Camilo and dad. I stay back not believing what just happened.

“He can't be gone he just can't,” I think to myself.Finally getting the courage to walk I see mom on the phone call-

ing the police and holding Camilo close not wanting to lose another. I kneel down next to my brother and get the courage to face my dead father. Every knowing memory of him washes over me, I think back to this morning how it is possible he was her speaking and living a few hours ago. I look to my mom to see how she is handling it, reas-suring my brother that everything will be alright but I know better.

“Leyla por favor lleva a tu hermano a la casa.”I stumble to grab my brother gently still in shock, he lets me lead

him towards and into the casa.“Es mi culpa,” el murmullo. “No digas eso Camillo no es tu culpa,” yo le ordene.Taking him to the kitchen I make him wash the blood away from

his dirty hands to get rid of the torturous memory. Placing him on the couch his eyes still in shock I feel so helpless not being able to help him. With my mind running with a train full of thoughts I slowly fall asleep with Camilo hoping to wake up from this nightmare tomorrow.

Sounds of sirens wake me up from my dreamless sleep. Feeling exhausted I slowly rouse up and quietly slip away from Camilo’s grip. Following the sounds I walk outside to find my mom talking authori-ties clearly answering questions based on yesterday. Just thinking about it all over again makes my heart ache full of despair. Not want-ing to relive the incident again I just watch my dad being rolled into the ambulance with my mom to take care of things, driving away ex-cept this time I know he isn't coming home. I head back inside not knowing what to expect from this point forward. Slipping onto the couch with Camilo once again I watch as his face is peaceful and his breath following a pattern like way. My nature makes me want to pro-

tect him from anything in harm's way except I can't do this here in Colombia with the F.A.R.C. still out to get us.

“The only way to get away is if we go to America but we don't have the money to buy a place or know anyone to get a life out there. We just can't live here especially since dad died,” I keep thinking to myself. His fluttering eyes wake up and sit up from my wrap.

“Leyla qué hora es?” el me pregunto.“Son las once cuarenta,estás bien?” yo le pregunté.“Si yo penso, donde esta mama?” “Ella se fue al hospital con papá” yo le decía con un cara triste. No warning, Camilo begins to cry and I couldn't help but cry with

him filling in the silence“Leyla, es todo mi culpa que el se murio, yo no merezco vivir,”

Camilo dijo otra vez llorando.“No es tu culpa, no digas eso” yo le dije corriendo mi dedos en su

pelo. “ Es que yo no puedo creer que no está aquí ya, que vamos

hacer?”“Nosotros vamos a seguir viviendo para papá ok,” contestando

dando el un brazo. Sitting on the kitchen table playing with my fingers to distract

myself from waiting for hours on mama and pretty much everything I'm feeling which was a failing task.

“Qué dijeron los doctores de papá?” le pregunté mamá no sabi-endo que yo realmente quería sabed.

“Que el se murió rápidamente, no más eso,” ella dijo no miran-dome en los ojos.

I knew that was all I was going to get from her. Walking around the kitchen cooking I could see my mom’s colors fade from her turn-ing to a dark grey making me worry for her sake and the future of the family. Getting the courage to disturb her zombie state to ask her a risky question.

“Mami yo no creo que es seguro que nosotros continuamos vivir aquí,” diciendo con un temblor de voz.

She turns around to finally meet my eyes and takes a long deep breath afterwards letting it go with a sigh.

“Yo se que es muy difícil para ti y Camilo pero que vamos hacer no tenemos el dinero o un plan para moverlos a un nueva parte para vivir en un nueva casa.”

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The Road to Nowhere“Yo no estoy hablando de moviendo a un casa, estoy hablando de

nosotros moviendo a América para escapar el F.A.R.C. y augurar un mejor vida por Camilo y nosotros también”

“Leyla moviendo a los Estados Unidos es muy difícil, gente se esperan por años para vivir aye y también no tenemos lo suficiente dinero para comprar un lugar aye. Asi que tome ese ridículo pen-samiento de su cabeza,” diciendo con un cara dura.

Turning her back I take this as a sign to dismiss myself from the table, heading to my sanctuary. Passing doors I take a peek inside Camilos room sleeping the day away if only it was a simple for me. I flop on my bed staring at the ceiling my eyes once again begin to mourn

“Porque dios! por que lo llevaste de mi?” I yell while covering my cries with my hands trying to muffle my screams with my pillow.

Everything hits me knowing no prayer or wish will bring him back to me. Taking deep breaths I get my thoughts straight from an ongoing battle of whether to stay or run away without mamá know-ing. Being foolish I begin to pack for my runaway plan. Stuffing two pairs of clothes, a map, two water bottles, my passport and saved al-lowance money and also some package food I fill my bag quickly not wanting to make it too pesado. Beginning to have second thoughts I jump from the sound of knocking at my door. Opening it slightly I see camilos face standing on the other side lighted by the moonlight from my window behind.

“Leyla dejame entrar” letting him in he slowly walks into my room observing my messy room from packing.

“Te vas a ir?” preguntando con un cara supresa.“Si, me voy a ir a Los Estados Unidos pero no le digas a Mamá

me voy ir sola porque yo no me siento segura aquí. Me voy a ir tem-prano en la mañana por favor quédate aquí con mamá ella te necesita”

“Leyla!! No te puedes ir es muy peligroso ir sola. Si tu vas en-tonces yo voy ir  tambien o le voy a decir a mamá”

I take a second think this through if he comes I can protect him as well sticking together wouldn't be a bad idea but I can't risk his life.

“No, tu te vas a quedar perdón.”“Pero yo no me siento seguro aquí y mama apenas está aquí,”

camilo llora  seeing his eyes puff up I knew he could tell we were in trouble.

“Ok esta bien tu te puedes venir pero tu vas a sir que yo te digo y no le vas a decir a mamá,” yo le mande.

Intending to look like a boy to survive the deadly journey I grab the sharpest object in my room and slash it through my long hair there's no backing out now. Taking a chance without fully analyzing my plan and not chickening out I quickly write a note to mama ex-plaining what I'm doing and that we will get in touch with her soon and that we love her. My heart pains me with guilt to leave her like this out of the blue. Leaving it on the kitchen table I quietly make my way to camilo ready for today's journey. Careful to close the front door without making a sound we get greeted by the beautiful clear blue and orange sunrise. Heading to the closest trolley station to get to the airport I look back to our house knowing I won't be greeted by the beautiful roses ever again

“El avión se va ir en diez minuto, repito en diez minutos” ruido que viene de altavoz.

Not waiting long with other few people we board the avion from Medellin to take us to the border of Nicaragua not having enough money to take us all the way. Camilo sleeping the ride away I keep looking out the window full, of curiosity how small the world is from above. Putting all of our leftover allowance money and passport in my backpack I find a photo album. Opening it I get surprised by pages full of pictures of our lives making me homesick I rapidly put it back.

“Did I make the right choice?” I question myself however it get interrupted by the alert of our planes landing soon. After waiting in the long lines of getting our passports checked we walk in outside to a unknown land. Getting welcomed by tall structures and busy streets full of vehicles and gente. Camilo and I try to find our way to the nearest trolley stop to take us to Honduras

“Leyla tu piensas que esto va a funcionar?”“Si,” diciendo pero realmente yo no sabía.After wasting an hour of asking people for directions we found a

trolley stop going to Honduras. Having no other option of transport we climb aboard and make our way to heading closer to our new lives. Without realization I wake up I guess I must've fallen asleep af-fected by the different time zone. Having no other option I wake up Camilo handing him a granola bar for breakfast and eat silently as other people watch us carefully making me feel anxious. Arriving at honduras we both take a bathroom break and stretch out our bodies from feeling cramped. Waiting in line once again to check our pass-ports we finally make it out. Having time to spare I keep camilo close

332

The Road to Nowherewhile exploring the streets and ending up buying some cheap snacks and some water. Arriving at La Bestia the cheerful personality disap-pears once we get near the deadly ride along with other people risking their lives with the same goal as us. A chain of smoke alarms every-one that it's now or never and we all try hard to climb on top.

“Apurate Camilo,” yo grite pulando su abrasoFinding seats next to a mother and two sons I sit down and put on

my sweater trying to hide my face and hair preparing for the worst. Hands turning white from holding the rail all day I finally let go and lay down next to camilo who's watching the stars as we ride by.

“Leyla pensas que vamos a tener un mejor vida?” Camilo me pre-gunto.

“Pues yo penso que vamos a tener un mejor vida si nos quedamos juntos,” closing his eyes he falls asleep in my arm making sure he doesn't fly away.

“Leyla, despertate estamos en Chiapas,” Camilo dijo agarrando mi mano. Rousing from my uncomfortable slumber I check my sur-roundings inspecting the resting faces of other sleeping newcomers. Light barely touching the horizon admiring the historical building we are passing I get shocked by hearing one of the most blood curdling scream ever in my life. Staring into the direction of the sound I get shocked to finally see that the stories are true. I watch in horror as the gang members spread out consuming everyone's belongings. Wasting no time I stuff our money and passports inside my shirt tucking it in it works. Behind me I feel Camilo’s  tug on my sweater.

“Es el, es lo mismo hombre,” Camilo murmullo apuntando con su ojos. Following his gaze I focus on a particular man shouting to ev-eryone aboard. By the sound of the man voice I stand still I would know that voice anywhere. Slowly walking up to the both of us I can see the respect he gets from everyone no one saying anything just watching hoping it isn't them he talks to.

“Que tenemos aqui dos ninos,” Peering down to try to get a better look at Camilo. I try moving my body to hide him but it's too late by the look on the man's face. H gives Camilo and I a second glance. His face filled with  mystery emotions he grabs my arm hurting me enough to create a bruise for sure.

“Tu eres la nina de la ventana cuando mate a tu padre. Cómo se siente no tener un papa,” él diciendo con un voz mueca. I could tell he knew who we were now, the family he broke apart not caring for what he’s done. My body shakes with fury giving away our identity, cannot

help knowing he is getting joy out of all this. Revenge running through my veins I hold back thinking of  the risk for my and Camilo’s life.

“Dame todo tu cosas princesa yo se que tienes o le vas a pagar,” diciedo con un mano afuera esperando el dinero.

“Nosotros no tenemos dinero por favor déjanos en paz.” The heavy impact knocks the wind out of me as he wraps his fatal fingers around my throat. Fiercely bringing me closer to himself I pray for someone to stop him but I know it's hopeless.

“Dónde está tu cosas? Si me das tu cosas me voy y no te voy a matar,” hablando muy cercas que yo puedo oler su aliento del cigar-rillo. Having no other option I took out our belongings from my sweater and hand it to him careful not to touch his skin.

“Leyla no!” Camilo grito “Gracias Princesa,” dando me un cara muy contento ignorando

Camilo “Yo no soy tu princesa! Ya tienes el dinero y pasaportes déjanos

en paz.” gritando a él agarrando el attencion de más gente en el tren. Not appreciating my words he quiets me with one look at his gun now drawn to Camilo.

“Puedo haber mentido realmente le dije que tu eres siguiente.” Turning the safety off I knew I had to do something to not lose Camilo after all we been through. I pry my fingers on his own and scratch them while kicking myself free. Faster than I've ever run be-fore I drag Camilo to the edge of the train looking down below to the treacherous fall knowing we either die on our will or by the hand of my father's killer. Stepping over the rail I slow my breath, holding Camilos hand we jump off together into an unknown future.

A gentle hum in my ear wakes me up I look up to see me being surrounded by trees their leaves letting in little gleams of orange. Standing up I feel a painful gash on my right leg about to inspect it I hear a weak mumble.

“Leyla.”Hearing Camilo’s voice I stumble towards him leaving a trail of

blood behind me. His body barely moving I would almost think he was dead except for his shallows breaths. I carefully kneel down to

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The Road to Nowheresee his shirt and the grass around him covered in dangerously amounts of blood.

“El me disparo en el brazo izquierdo.” I rip the hem of my shirt hoping it will stop or at least slow down his bleeding.

“Camilo necesitamos que ir o el hombre y su banda no va encon-trar.”

Carrying him I push through the pain knowing I had to get him help if I wanted him to live. The moon being the only source of  light helping us walk through the aching hours. Finally reaching a pueblo, I knock on the window of the nearest small house. A middle age woman appears looking startled inspecting us.

“Por favor senora ayudanos es una emergencia,” yo llore. Open-ing her door she lets us in, falling into her doorway she runs away. Bringing water and a first aid kit she kneels down to Camilos uncon-scious body starting to clean it knowing what to do.

“Que paso con tu y tu hermano,” ella me pregunto sacando el bala. I’m hesitant at first but answer her back

“Un hombre de F.A.R.C. y banda queria matar los en la Beastia.” “Que son tu nombres?” preguntando con una cara curiosa “Mi nombre es Leyla y el es Camilo,” responden. Coming over to

my leg she begins to take care of it.“Hola, yo me llamo Alicia, usted necesitará dormer.”Gracias por salvando la vida de mi hermano.”Struggling to carrying Camilo’s body, I follow Alicia to her small

spare room. Tucking him in bed, she leaves wishing me a good night. Sliding into bed with him I close my eyes knowing everything is go-ing to be alright at least for tonight. Waking up I forget where I am only to find out Camilo isn't next to me anymore. I get out of bed off to search for him it wasn't much of a problem finding him in the kitchen eating breakfast.

“Buenos días,” ellos dijeron en unísono.“Buenas dias,” yo contesté sentándome en un cilla. Alicia pushes

forward a plate full of eggs and beans.“Come tu necesitas energía, tu hermano me contó todo.” I look

over at Camilo giving him a stern but friendly look, just grateful he is still here. I wouldn't have been able to handle it if he was gone.

“Alicia dónde estamos?”  preguntando ella.“Estamos en Puebla, México City.” I go and grab my map trying

to figure out where exactly we were. Trying to come up with a plan to

get into america I can't find any not without our passports and money we lost. I sigh in frustration.

“Leyla que paso?” Camilo me preguntó mirándome con cara pre-ocupado

“No se como vamos a ir a América,” yo le conteste.“Yo te puedo ayudar yo soy un coyote te puedo llevar gratis,” ali-

cia dice. I look at her not believing my ears.“Serio,” le pregunte.“Si, pero tenemos que ir este noche,” ella dice. I find it odd of her

to help us without expecting pay but it's either this or nothing. In the spare room me and camilo begin to reorganize our things waiting until night fall. With the moon out Alicia leads Camilo and I to the back of her truck where we wait for a whole day. Spending our time in their being quiet and sleeping the hours away. We are careful not to move or eat not wanting to stop to draw  attention to ourselves. Having no clue where we are I hear the vehicle come to a stop and noises from outside. Following the steps with my ears alicia comes to the back and opens the trunk.

“Estamos Aquí justo al lado de la frontera,” ella dice. Not know-ing if it is morning or night Camilo and I step out of the truck coming face to face with the intimidating cell like wall blocking our way to Texas.

“Que paso con la migra?” yo le pregunte finding it peculiar how no one has come to stop us.

“Estamos en un parte que la migra apenas viene en esta hora pero es muy peligroso todavía.”

Turning to her I give her a hug for being so generous to strangers like us.“Gracias por todo,” yo le digo mientras camilo le da un abrazo. She drives away wishing us a safe journey. Coming face to face with the harsh divider I begin to get frightened of the endless possibilities of getting caught, dying or finally reaching our chance of a better life. Hand over hand I lift Camilo to a wire bar to lift himself close to the other edge of the border. He jumps over to the other side. I quickly follow him, my feet on new territory waiting to see what awaits us.

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The Road to Nowhere

Comer, Repartir, Amor

Griffin BenitezJimmy frantically pulled himself up, with the beautiful shimmers

of light coming in through the leaves onto his face he lies back onto the branch, tips his fedora over his eyes and falls asleep dreaming of his new life in Colombia. Jimmy woke up to a gunshot. Nearly falling off the smooth branch he was on, hundreds of birds were flying over the roof of the jungle.

“Qué eres Un distribuidor de cocaína, ahora. ¡No ir de Disparos todo tu ves!” yelled the older looking military man. Jimmy didn’t know much Spanish, but from when he used to deal with the Valdez’s in the US he knew they were talking about dealers. Without a single sound Jimmy climbed all the way down the tree and started to follow the military men. The jungle, filled with thousands of birds and other animals and the smell of nature still amazed Jimmy. Making sure to keep an eye on the men, Jimmy enjoyed the jungle, listening to the birds, loving the humid air.  After hours of walking, Jimmy finally gave up, his legs aching with shin splints and itching with bug bites. He collapsed, sitting down in the corner of a tree on the floor, mud seeping through his shorts. Yawning through the thick humid air Jimmy wondered how he would be able to make it back to the place he was staying in.

Jimmy jumped up with the loud bang of a gun. After another four shots Jimmy limped over to the sound of a deep moan, by time he got there, there was no sound just two bodies soaking in the red of blood. Wincing, Jimmy refused to go any closer. The two military men were dead just like that, even with all the crimes Jimmy had committed he still couldn’t stand the sight of a dead man. Standing above the two men was a scruffy man with hair nearly as white as snow holding two handguns still smoking out the barrels. For a mere second Jimmy made eye contact with the man. limping away as fast as he could Jimmy heard another gunshot. He fell over his screaming in pain, his legs throbbing beneath him he turned toward the man, as he spun around Jimmy’s bag was emptied. Pausing, the white haired man put down his gun and leaned forward with one hand out.

“Yo no mato mi propia,” promised the man.

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The Road to NowhereJimmy stared confused, than gathering himself replied, “No hablo

español.” The man leaned in further with his hand and gestured behind

Jimmy. Checking behind himself, Jimmy realized that all the cocaine that he had brought was laying on the floor.

While Jimmy scrambled to put it back in his bag the man trans-lated, “I don’t kill one of my own.”

With his bag over his shoulder Jimmy took the hand and got up. “What you doing in Colombia, American?” inquired the man.“My reason is right there,” Jimmy answered while brushing off

his legs and staring down his emptied out bag. “I’m not interested in murder though so I’ll be on my way.”

Shaking hands with the man Jimmy winced in pain and started on his way. Before taking his third step he collapsed, blacked out from the pain. With a fatherly smile the man lifted Jimmy off the floor, grabbed Jimmy’s stuff and started off in the other direction.

Jimmy couldn’t stop seeing the dead bodies on the floor; but it wasn’t the two men on the floor, it was only one man, the one person that loved Jimmy; His dad. Waking up drenched in sweat, Jimmy look around at the room set up almost the same as his old room in Amer-ica, a hard wood desk covered in miscellaneous items, nothing on the floors, and a lamp leaned up against the corner beside the queen bed that he was in. Sitting up he ached but it wasn’t half the pain that he had earlier, slowly he was able to stand up but by time he did the door opened. The smiling old man handed Jimmy a new pair of pants to re-place the still damp dirty pair that he had on. As the man left Jimmy realized that his bag wasn’t with him. Sprinting to the door he saw it laying on the desk then with a sigh of relief put on the new pair of pants and sat down at the desk. Counting his stuff Jimmy saw every-thing but underneath one of his cocaine packs was a handgun and it wasn’t his. The door opened slow, with a fatherly smile the old man just stood there staring at Jimmy sitting at his desk. Without even looking seeing the man’s face Jimmy threw the gun toward the man.

“I don’t use these, and I’m only here for business so if that’s what you want then let's talk, if not than I will be leaving,” he asserted with a face serious enough to be a cop’s.

Knowing Jimmy spoke little Spanish, the man answered with, “Si eso es lo que quieres.” The smile fading off his face, the old man took Jimmy to another room.

Walking through the building, a lot of people glared at Jimmy but with the old man with him no one said anything, at least when they were in the room. The old man sat down on a crummy couch, Jimmy did the same.

“Let’s have a real introduction; Hola, yo soy Sebastian ¿y tu eres?” Sebastian said with subtlety as he stuck his hand out. Refusing to respond Jimmy still shook his hand. No longer with a smile Sebas-tian gripped Jimmy’s hand tightly and glared at Jimmy.

Finally giving in Jimmy replied, “Yo soy Jimmy,” in a mocking tone. Releasing Jimmy’s hand Sebastian opened up the coffee table in front of them. Inside was nearly thirty bricks of cocaine with one open on the top of the pile.

“This stuff is top notch. Do you grow this?” said Jimmy. Sebas-tian nodded.

“I will pay 70k for each brick!” Jimmy nearly yelled, his face starting to look like a little boy on Christmas.

Slamming down the lid on the coffee table, Sebastian now flus-tered stared down Jimmy. Trying to calm himself he softly said, “We grow our cocaine we sell our cocaine.”

Confused Jimmy looked away from the table and toward Sebas-tian, realizing that he  wasn’t in a place to bargain he toned down his joy and asked for an explanation.

“If you want our cocaine you have to make it your cocaine!” Se-bastian proclaimed. Jimmy sat there and thought about what had just happened. rather than accepting what Sebastian had just offered Jimmy argued with his logic. For hours they had a swift back and forth on why Jimmy should have to join Sebastian’s gang.

Sebastian finally banged his fist on the table and yelled out, “This is my gang, My cocaine and if you want to be a part of one, you must be a part of the other. Make your choice!” They both stood up from the couch. Jimmy turned toward Sebastian, shook his hand then started to walk out.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss my duties. Adios.” Jimmy turned and left. With the smile back on his face Sebastian walked through each room gathering all the members and decided to cele-brate.

Walking stiff-legged Jimmy stared up to find his branch for the night deciding that trying to find his way back to the village wasn’t worth the effort now that it was dusk. Thinking about what just hap-

340

The Road to Nowherepened Jimmy started to climb a tree that had a nice vine hammock, by the time he got up to the hammock he already had a speech for tomor-row. Watching the light slowly change with the fall of the sun Jimmy just sat, not thinking about anything or doing anything just sitting down on a branch above his bed for the night. Even with nothing on his mind Jimmy couldn’t sleep and based off the Colombian watch that he got when he arrived it was 4:45am.

With bags under his eyes, sleepless Jimmy climbed down the tree and walked back to Sebastian’s place wobbling as if he was drunk. Seemingly paralyzed Jimmy stood in front of the door unable to open it, looking at his watch for the 4th time he finally opens the door. Se-bastian sat waiting at a table in the front room ready for their meeting with cocaine and money on the table. Wincing before everything he said Jimmy  agreed to work in Sebastian's gang. By the end of their conversation Sebastian had convinced Jimmy to be a part of the gang, selling and helping with the production of their own cocaine.

Jimmy was just getting ready to leave when Sebastian finally asked “Jimmy you will have to use guns doing the things we do, are you ready to protect yourself from any danger ahead of you?”

Trembling Jimmy picked up the gun off the desk going against everything he wanted he was able to lie out “Yes I am ready to kill if I need to,” Smiling Sebastian sent Jimmy off to work on the farms for his first time. As he was arriving at the farms a group of men gang members circled him. Scared, Jimmy prepared himself for what he thought would be his jumping in.

“Nobody here likes a foreigner,” the one in front of him said.“Especially an American!” said the one behind him.“And a drug dealer at that,” said the first guy. Concerned that

they had figured out his plan Jimmy put his hand on the gun that was just given to him. No intention of using it Jimmy just wanted to make them back up.

“Whether we liked you or not, you’re family now!” All of the guys patted him on back, Jimmy relieved took his hand off the gun. The guys took Jimmy up to the farms and started to teach him what to do and when the leaves are ripe for the picking. It only took Jimmy a couple weeks until he had already learned all he had needed to know to farm the cocaine then he was allowed to sell it. Jimmy had his own plan in mind throughout the the months of growing and selling. He had been stocking up on cash and some cocaine so that he could do what he came to Colombia for; to make his own money.

○○○

After nearly a year Jimmy was still with the gang and hadn’t once had to fire his gun. He brought it wherever he was after getting in a fight with Sebastian when he came back one day without it. With ev-ery passing week Jimmy was stalking up more and more, his plans had finally been thought through to the end, he was going to take the cocaine that he had been hoarding back to america and after making his millions in america he would make his dream come true and buy his own island. On his own island Jimmy would have no more fears and he wouldn’t have to have the continues dream of his father dad in front of him, all he would have to think about is the world around him.

○○○

Two years had passed and Jimmy was finally getting ready to go back to America and ditch the gang. He had still not had to fire a gun but while working with the other members he had seen thirteen mili-tary men shot because they came too close to the farms. He was start-ing to understand why they needed guns because for every one mili-tary man shot he had been with two gang members who were either shot or mauled by a creature in the jungle. The sights of the dead still bother him and every night he would have the same dream of his fa-ther in front of him.

The day came when Jimmy was ready to go home. Though Jimmy was happy to be going on to do what he had always wanted. He couldn’t crack a smile, whether it was to keep his cover or because he was sad to be leaving. Jimmy would never admit that there were now more people that cared about him or that there were people that he cared about. Before leaving he had to say some sort of goodbye to Sebastian, who had let Jimmy into his family and always treated him as his own son. As Jimmy approached the hideout he could hear the rain pouring down on the leaves above him, with the occasional drop coming down on him. When he opened the door the roar of thunder shook the floor. Inside all of the lights were off as if Sebastian knew what Jimmy was here for today.

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The Road to NowhereJimmy didn’t want to see any of the the other gang members

faces so he just kept his eyes straight looking through each doorway. The silence started to fade away as he heard arguing from Sebastian’s room at the end of the hall where Jimmy had been welcomed into. Al-most turning around Jimmy knew there was no way he could say goodbye in a room like that one, refusing to give up on his dream he kept walking toward the room. Jimmy knew the voice of Sebastian but had never heard the other voice before, the spanish was too fluent to be a foreigner but there was no way that it was one of the gang members because the lack of slang.

“Usted sabía que este día llegaría,” said the other man Jimmy still not good with spanish didn’t understand it so he kept quiet.

“nunca pensé sí lo sea usted, mi propio hijo,” Jimmy heard Se-bastian. With the cock of a gun Jimmy sprang open the door and pulled out his gun, quivering with it in his hand. A young military guy around Jimmy’s age stood standing above Sebastian with a gun aimed on him.

You could hear the rain stop and no one said a word, then with a soft fatherly voice Sebastian look at Jimmy and pleaded. “Promise me you won’t give up on your family like I did,” tears of rage drip down the young soldiers face as Sebastian looked back at him and apolo-gized.

Standing back up right the soldier wiped his face. “como usted siempre dijo papá, negocios es negocios,” with a crack of lightning both guns were fired. Jimmy crying over Sebastian's body, gave up on his dream and all that he believed in. Carrying Sebastian’s body Jimmy walked through each room, all of them were empty. It was 6 in the morning and Jimmy laid out Sebastian's body on the porch and waited there sobbing for hours, with each hour more and more of the gang members crowded around. For 10 hours nobody said a word they sat there mourning over the man who they all saw as a father. No one understood through the love and kindness they had received from Sebastian how his only real son son could kill him.

With his eyes dry Jimmy stood up as tall as he could and with a sad but courageous face he yelled out, “Sebastian was a father to all of us and he was the one who lead us to be the great gang, the family we are today. The last thing he said to me was to never give up on this gang, so I will do just that. I will not be a new Sebastian, for I can only dream of being half the man he was. I am going to be Jimmy, not a father but a brother to all who are in our family!”

With their eyes fully wiped the whole gang stood up, with admi-ration in their eyes they simultaneously saluted Jimmy and proceeded to go to the jobs they were already assigned for the day. With a new look in Jimmy’s eyes he and three other men buried Sebastian, and his son along with him.

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The Road to Nowhere

Honduras

Noches de Honduras – Victor Sánchez……………….………357El Sueño – Phillippe de Kervor (with Trent Lewis)…...……...363Nuevo Comienzo – Darian Robles……………………….……371

Alma’s life is at risk. A dangerous gang known as MS-13 has ter-rorized her family. Her father, brother, and sister are dead, and she can’t stay in Honduras any longer. This rising threat is forcing Alma to leave her god forsaken country. There is one issue, her mother doesn’t want to leave and Alma cannot make her. For the sake of her own future Alma must leave Honduras and seek success in America. Alma is dependant on her mother and is very timid. Read on to dis-cover whether she will become a strong-willed, independent woman over her journey.

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The Road to Nowhere

El Sueño Imposible

Victor SánchezLa noche del domingo:Las noches en Honduras son muy peligrosas, porque hay una

pandilla furiosa que se llama Mara Salvatrucha, que mata a la gente inocente, o algunos que les deben dinero.                               

“¡Órale muévase, o le doy unos plumazos!” dice un miembro de la Mara Salvatrucha.

Oigo alguien afuera gritando. “¡No! ¡Por favor no me mate!” dice el joven llorando por su

alma.“¡Callate el hocico! Muere ya!” le grita el hombre enojado de la

Mara Salvatrucha disparándole.

Lunes:“Son las siete de la mañana. Despiértate mi hija linda,” dice mi

mamá.“¡Ay amá!” le contestó cansada.“¡Orale, despiértate! Es tiempo para irte a la escuela,” me dice mi

madre. “No voy a ir a la escuela, me da miedo. Hasta la policía tiene

miedo de la Mara Salvatrucha.” Contestó casi llorando por lo que pasó en la noche. Yo no voy a la escuela por culpa de la Mara Salva-trucha. Es muy brutal lo que esta gente hace, me pone muy triste y más si yo llego a ser una víctima. Con todo esto se me quitan las ganas de seguir persiguiendo mi sueño.

“Hace mucho viento,” le digo a mi madre, mientras las cortinas se caen al piso. “Creo que va a llover alrato.”

“?Los puedes recoger y ponerlas sobre la mesa, antes que se en-sucien?” Me pregunta mi mamá  vistiéndose.

“Si mamá, ahorita lo hago espere que me aliste,” contesto calla-dita.

Es un lindo lunes, el sol salió, pero lejos se ven las nubes os-curas. Huelo que va llover.

“Nadie estará en paz aquí en Honduras por ellos,” dice mi mamá, en su voz lenta. Es la verdad lo que dice mi mamá, nadie estará en paz

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The Road to Nowherepor esos imbéciles. ¿Por qué hay gente mala en este mundo? ¿Por qué tenemos que vivir asi? ¿Por qué no puede Honduras ser un país como los Estados Unidos?

Mi mamá tiene treinta y un años, se llama Paula. No sé mucho de mi papá, lo único que sé de él, es que vendía drogas en una esquina donde la Mara Salvatrucha se juntaba. Ellos lo apuñalaron hasta la muerte. Mi mamá me dice, que no debería de estar cerca de esa es-quina, porque la Mara Salvatrucha nos matará. No sé si lo que dice mi mamá es la verdad, pero no me gusta salir a las calles por una razón: porque este país va a estar controlado por la Mara Salvatrucha de El Salvador. El Salvador es corrupto, y es mucho más peligroso que Honduras. También, porque soy una mujer es más peligroso, porque no tengo la habilidad que tiene un hombre, de correr rápido y pelear.

“Ya me voy, mija. Que tengas cuidado. Te amo con toda mi alma.” Mi mamá siempre me dice eso, cuando se va de la casa para buscar trabajo. Mi mamá me demuestra que quiere ser lo mejor que pueda para yo puedo vivir bien, y que está feliz. Me quedo en mi casa esperando a mi mamá  que llegue. Lleva dos semanas sin trabajar y viviendo asi, hace muy difícil para vivir. No tenemos para pagar agua y comida. Comemos una vez al dia, pero yo quiero ayudarle porque es lo mejor que puedo hacer para mi familia.

Paso todo el día tirada en mi camita, esperando que regresa mi madre porque me da miedo estar sola afuera de la casa. Entre la sem-ana, no hago nada más que estar en mi casa y soñar de irme a los Es-tados Unidos. Toda la gente dice, que ir a los Estados Unidos, es poner tu vida riesgo, pero si llegas allí será reiniciando tu vida. Por donde vivo hay mucha violencia y mi familia ha sido amenazada por lo que hizo mi papá. Mi madre tiene miedo de salir pero no le queda de otra porque necesita mantenernos. Ya le dije a mi mamá, que unos de estos días voy a irme por los Estados Unidos. Cuando era chica, es-cuchaba que cruzar a los Estados Unidos es un sueño hecho realidad. Me pregunta, “¿porque?” si no tengo nadie allá y llendo me es poniendo mi vida en la línea. Quiero ir para ayudar a mi mamá, ayu-dar a mi familia. Ganado dinero en los Estados Unido y regresando patras a Honduras para cambiar nuestro situacion es todo lo que quiero.

Me quedo dormida, hasta que llega mi madre a las tres treinta de la tarde.

“¡Ya llegué mija! ¿Cómo estás?”“¡Ah que bueno mamá! ¿Está lloviendo? ”

“Sí mija, no paró de llover toda esta semana.”Le dije a mi mamá, que esta semana le ayudare para poder sobre-

vivir y vivir en paz como mis sueños. Llevo marcando todo los días pensando cuando no va a llover, lleva mucho que no vemos el sol más que nubes pero yo oí que pasando para los Estados Unidos de Hon-duras cuando está lloviendo es mucho más fácil porque la migra no quieren ensuciar sus carros.

“¡Es tiempo de cenar Alma mía, ven a comer!” Dice mi mamá, y oigo que está llorando. Oyendo que está llorando siento que yo iba a llorar, pero tengo que enseñarle que soy paciente.

Me pregunté por qué estara llorando mi mamá, ¿Sera por que esta incómoda de dejarme solita en la casa? No se que hacer más que bus-car a alguien que me ayudara a cruzar a los Estados Unidos.

“¿Por qué lloras mamá ?” le pregunté triste. “Nadie me acepta para trabajar, no podemos estar viviendo asi mi

hijita.” Dice llorando abrazándome. Aplicando para un trabajo es muy difícil para una mujer, por

nosotros no tenemos la habilidad como tienen los hombres, fuertes, rápidos, y no se cansan tan fácil. Mayoría de las madres en Honduras se quedan en casa cocinando, limpiando y haciendo cosas para las casas.

Miro a mi mamá como ídolo, trabaja duro y trabaja por mi. Para que tengamos techo sobre nosotras. Mi casa no esta grande ni medi-ano, pero mi casa esta chico y entrando en la casa vez nuestro cuarto donde está la tele chica con un pintura de la  Virgen de Guadalupe, allí para mano derecha y a mano izquierda está la cocina. La casita limpia y el olor de afuera entra por la ventana que está rompida y atorada, pero que frío había esta noche.

“¿Mamá  no dejes que la gente te ponga triste, yo te voy ayudar manana voy a buscar para trabajo también?” Le digo con miedo.

Me estaba mirando mi mamá , sonrío cuando escucho que le iba ayudar.  

La noche pasó y me quede despierta pensando cómo buscara al-guna gente que me diga como puedo cruzar para los Estados Unidos. Me acuerdo que los ninos de la escuela me dijieron que cada martes de la semana se junta gente para irse de viaje para alla. Pero los ninos dijeron que mayoría de los coyotes cargan para llevarnos para cruzar a los Estados Unidos. También dicen que no esta barato para pagar para cruzar. Pero tendrá que buscar esta gente para irme ya para que no

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The Road to Nowheresufre mi mamá . Mi mamá  hace todo lo que puede para nosotros, se levanta a las siete de la mañana y regresa a las cuatro de la tarde. Al-gunos días no se baña mi mamá  porque viene cansada por caminar de ciudad a ciudad.

MartesNuestra alarma suena y me levanto para irme de busca de esta

gente que cruza. “¿Mija tenga mucho cuidado vale? Te amo muchisimo te veo

aquí al rato.” Me dice con actitud positiva.  “Yo tambien te amo mamá , bueno pues adios.”Tengo mucho miedo de salir. Hace mucho calor para salir, las

calles destrozados, papel, pierdas basura en el suelo. Hay sangre seca al ladito de mi casa.

Salgo por la ventana junto a mi cuarto. Caminando para dos ho-ras no busco a la gente pero ojala los encontró pronto para llegar a casa temprano. Sigo caminando hasta que veo un grupo de gente que está negociando con alguien.

“¿Disculpa?” Le pregunté a una niña como de mi edad. “¿Si?” Me contesta feliz.“¿Qué pasa aqui?”“Es la junta del viaje para norte.”“¿Quien es encargó aquí?” Le preguntó. “El, el es el coyote. Algunas preguntas dile a el.” Me dice la niña

con voz alta. No supe qué hacer o decir. Me quede callada hasta que estaba

solo. Tiene pelo larga con canas, es corto y moreno. Está en sus cuarenta años, y se mira como enojado.

“¿Disculpa?” Le digo al coyote.“¿Si? ¿Quién eres tú?” Me pregunta cómo supiera nervioso.“Me llamo Alma, Alma Vazquez. ¿Como puedo cruzar para los

Estados Unidos?”Estoy nerviosa, no lo conozco y más bien no conozco a toda esta

gente. Estaba sentada sobre una piedra grande pero me levante porque ya esta solo.

“Nos vamos mañana a las nueve de la mañana, no cargo dinero no mas estoy aqui para ayudarles.” Me pregunta mirándome.

“¿Que traigo para el viaje?”“Trai unos pantalones, suéteres, cobija y último que me corte el

pelo cortito.”

Le pregunto porque y me explica los peligros del viaje por La Bestia.

“Vas a tener que vestirse como un niño porque algunos de los días la Mara Salvatrucha sale para matar a la gente y violarlos.” Me dice en serio.

Estaba confundida, pensando si era la verdad que estaba diciendo este señor. Mi pelo esta largo y cafecito. Muy bonito dice la gente de mi pelo pero pensando que lo tenía que cortarlo. Me dijo que vistien-dome como hombre será más bueno para que los hombres no violaran y golpearan. Talvez le haría caso porque es lo que hace la Mara Sal-vatrucha. Era tiempo de irnos y pensando cómo me vería como hom-bre estara dificil porque habla como mujer, y mi pecho.

Llego a casa a las cuatro de la tarde. Cuando estoy comiendo con mi mamá , me pregunto que hice pero no supe como decirle especial-mente porque me ama mucho y los tiempos que estamos ahorita estara mas dificil para ella. No le dije que hice pero no más que me voy mañana.

“¿Mija? Estoy cansado y yo creo que no voy de busco para tra-bajo mañana.” Con una sonrisa falsa.

“Bueno pues mamá , Te amo buenas noches.” Le digo con una sonrisa falsa.

Empiezo a llorar por lo que iba a ser en la manana. Me quede en la cocina esperando que me quede dormida. Puse mi alarma para las siete de la mañana para que me levante y cortarme mi pelo cortito.

MiércolesMe quede dormida pensando no se que, pero es tiempo de levan-

tarme y despedirme de mi mamá. Empiezo a cortarme el pelo, hasta que llegue a mis orejas. Me mire en el espejo en el baño, pelo corto llorando que voy a dejar a mi mamá . Ella es todo la familia que yo conozco y dejándola es mi vida en dos.

“¿Mamá ? ¡Despiertate ya me voy!” Le digo con miedo. “¿Donde vas mija? Ay que paso con tu pelo mija!”“Me lo corte yo, ya me voy mamá. Voy para mi sueño, de ayudar

a mi mamá  y reiniciar mi vida.” Le digo llorando.“¡No mija! Como que te vas, esta peligroso.” Me dice en serio. Está confundida de lo que digo, no sabe si reírse porque lo que

digo yo será una broma.

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The Road to Nowhere“Ya me voy mamá , adiós no me venga a buscar. Te amo mucho

mamá . Te llamaré cuando llegue para los Estados Unidos.” Estuvo llorando, pero no debo llorar, especialmente ahorita

porque si lloro me voy a querer quedarme y necesito ayudar a mi mamá .

“Almita, te amo mija, yo se que yo yéndome para buscar trabajo no funcionar. Pero por favor no te vallas mija.” Se levanta de la cama queriendo de agarra mi mano para pararme.

“No ya me voy adios mamá . ¡Te amo!” Me voy llorando para la junta de La Bestia. Alli estaba la gente

esperando que llegara el coyote para irnos. Todos los veíamos tristes y asustados, por el peligro que podía pasar durante el viaje. Las gentes que estaban allí estaban por la violencia, y porque viviendo en Hon-duras es un sufrimiento. Cuando llega el coyote y nos lleva al tren, to-dos tenemos mucho miedo, con las preocupaciones de que la Mara Salvatrucha aran, o que aran otra gente loca en el camino. Nos subi-mos al tren gigante. Nunca he visto un tren muy grande en mi vida. Yo me siento con mi cobija de flores, que está muy cómoda, y miro una foto de mi mamá. Pienso en lo que me dijo, que me ama con todo su alma. Empiezo a llorar pero me limpio mi cara.

Me voy porque mi familia está siendo amenazada por la Mara Salvatrucha, y no tengo cómo sobrevivir. Llendome para los Estados Unidos es una buena decisión porque puedo ir a la escuela allá y ga-nar dinero para ayudar a mi mamá. Los dice alguien, que tengamos buena suerte y no confían en nadie, más que la Cruz Roja.

El Sueño

Phillippe de KervorI am five-hundred miles into the one-thousand mile journey.

There is no way to turn back and I feel stuck. I have been trying to avoid a man that has been following me this entire journey. I am scared that he is trying to pull something on me. I am contemplating having a conversation with him, to realize what he is trying to get from me.

I finally make the effort to ask the man, “¿Disculpa al Señor, ¿por qué usted seguido me este viaje entero de Honduras?"

“Porque tengo un plan de hacer algo,” the man says with a creepy grin on his face.

I’m initially speechless, until I say, “¿Qué tiene previsto hacer a mí Señor? Todo estoy tratando de hacer es ir a Estados Unidos sin un problema.”

The man says, “Tienen que vivirlo para saber lo que yo he planeado, prepárate.”

He walks away quickly and looks back at me with a wink of an eye. At this point, I know he has something planned that was going to destroy my self-esteem. This is my worst nightmare. The man turns and walks towards me, grabbing me and demanding that I take my clothes off. He grabs my neck and pulls me towards him. I manage to move my body perfectly to avoid him, and run as fast as I can towards the jungle. He follows. I am either going to be killed or something worse.             

I have never ran this fast in my life. My body feels like it is going to fall apart inside. As I continue running, my teeth are slamming against each other as my body is shivering from fear. My mouth is bleeding from the stress, the taste is a metallic horrible flavor. My vi-sion blurs as if my body is starting to shut down. It is as if my entire body is moving faster than my own legs. I push harder and harder to get away from the man. As I continue running, my hearing starts to cut in and out as I charge through thick bushes deeper into the jungle. Time is moving faster and faster, but the true reality is going slower. My body is collapsing, to the point of non-realization. As my body collapses, I feel a strong-gripped, callasted male hand grab my neck.

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The Road to NowhereI wake up a few hours later, with every single bone in my entire

body hurting, feeling like I was hit by the train. I find myself in the middle of the jungle. By time I finally recall what happened, I realize that I am still alive and should continue on my journey to the dream country I once had in my head.

Looking back over my life, this is what I have been going through. Why I am doing this to myself? Why have I made the choice to want to make this journey come true? As I look deeper into my life, I realize that this is changing me as a person.

This is my life, another devastating death to the family. Today we got a visit from the coroner informing us of our father’s death. The feelings in the room were tense, as if my mom already knew. When the man told my mother and I that my father was killed, a ray of en-ergy was pulled from my body, as if my spirit was taken from me. Now my father, brother and sister have been sent to heaven against their will. As time goes on, both my mother and I may be killed just like the rest of my family. We are the only two left in this family, all I want in life is somewhere I can live peacefully without worrying about life or death every single day of my life. My mother does not think it's the right decision to leave, but I have to choose while I still have the last vestiges of freedom.

I cannot take living in this country any longer, it is causing me to contemplate life or death. Now I have one family member left, which is my sweet loving mother who is totally desensitized to the true real-ity of Honduras. With my father now dead, due to a MS13 killing spree, it made me realize that I have to get out of this country and go to the United States of America.

When I think of America, I think of huge, glistening buildings surrounded by beautiful land, with lots of money to be made with lit-tle amounts of effort. Yes, I do understand bad things happen in The United States, for example in school we were told the twin towers were brought down a few days ago. I did not really understand what that meant, but I do understand something bad is going on at the mo-ment. As of now I’m working here in Honduras at a small market sell-ing the most popular food in Honduras, baleada. It involves long days working in 100 degree weather cooking in a hot kitchen, getting paid less than the minimum wage of two dollars a day.

“Mamá, tengo algo que decirte,” I said sadly.

“¿Qué tienes que decir ahora, Alma?” my mother replies very re-spectfully .

“Debido a todas las cosas que he vivido en mi vida aquí en Hon-duras, me he dado cuenta de que lo mejor para mí es pasar a los Esta-dos Unidos.”

“¿Qué te hace pensar que es lo mejor para que hagas con tu vida?” my mother replies with confusion in her mind.

I rolled my eyes, “Les puedo decir que no estás contento con mi decisión, pero la razón por qué creo que es la mejor opción para mí es debido a todo lo que hemos vivido en este país. Hemos perdido toda la familia, no me siento segura en este lugar en todo.”

“Sí, sé que hemos perdido nuestra familia, pero esa es la razón por qué debemos permanecer juntos. No me voy a mi país de origen, es donde me siento más cómodo,” mother said, shaking her head.

With a harsher tone I said, “I get it mom, you’re not realizing the true reality of this country. If we stay any longer in this hell hole, we are going to get killed for no reason at all.”

“But I love it here, it’s where I feel most comfortable.” “Mom, I know you feel comfortable here, but this place is not a

safe place. MS13 is now starting to rule this area. All they are trying to do is kill off anyone in their way, even if they do not do anything to them,” I said confidently.

“What makes you think that? How do you know they killed our family? It could have been something else, you never know.”

“Mom, that is exactly what I am trying to say. We do not know what is really going on, but we do know that there is a big issue. All I want to tell you is if we don’t get out of here, we both are going to end up dead.”      

I walked away down to the creek, and relieved some of my anger. I needed a break to think about how I am going to make this journey happen. I do not understand how and why she does not realize what is going on here. I have to start packing my personal items, with the few things I need to get this journey going. I have 4516 Honduran Lem-pira saved up for this journey, and that will just be enough to get me to the United States. Yes, that may seem like a lot of money but it is not, while riding the train; you never know what can happen. People are robbed and thrown off the train, for no reason at all. I need to find a way to get my mother to come with me, because I don’t want to leave her here. I love her with all of my heart, but if she does not

356

The Road to Nowherecome with me it is not my issue. I have tried to convince her to come with me now many times and it seems like  she is just not realizing what is going on in this country.   

When I walked back into the house, she asked me, “How do you plan to get to the United States?”

“I am going to ride the train all the way up, and I have it all planned out in my head,” I replied.

“Okay do whatever you want with your life, Alma, it seems like you really do not care. I am staying here, so let me know when you make it to wherever you are going to go,” said my mother, rolling her eyes with a look of sadness.

As I packed for the journey I was immersed by the smell of my childhood. A blanket, stuffed at the bottom of a neglected dusty box under my bed, reminded me of my father with the smell of cloves cig-arettes in the blanket. The aroma of cloves cigarettes filled the air, sending me back to all the good times with my father. I managed to wedge everything I needed into my small backpack, including a single notebook with my mother’s address and phone number in it. This seems unreal that I am going to start this treacherous journey alone, but this is the only way I am going to do anything with my life.

The day I started the longest journey of my life, I was not feeling good. I started by going to the nearest train station here in Teguci-galpa, to jump on the northbound train. As I took the first steps out of the house, I realized I am now on the journey to success. I took my first deep breath, and walked towards the station. As I approached the train, I heard the deep rumble of the beast as it rolled down the tracks. As the train got closer, I put my hand out to grab on. When I stuck my hand onto the train for the first time, I realized that this is not the best place to grab. I let go and continued down towards the back of the train, trying to scope the best place possible to grab onto this rusted piece of metal. I placde my hand onto a rusty handle where the cargo goes into the beast. From this point I knew I was committed to my choice to travel to America. As I looked back I realized how far I al-ready was from my home town.

Life has now gone on, and I am realizing this is what I am going to do with my life. I am now a person traveling the world, going through many struggles. I am going to be deeper and deeper into the jungle, if I don't stop here and try to figure out where I am now.

My main problem at this point is trying to figure out where I have ended up, on this journey. At the time of trying to run away from the man, I ran for twenty minutes straight into the congested jungle. I now have no clue where to go but my goal is to get up north to the Texas border with Mexico. I remembered that the moss on all trees grows on the north side, so all I have to do is follow the right side. My main goal is to find a train or railroad a few miles north.

As I walk farther and farther into the deep jungle, I meet a girl named Maria, who is in a similar state as I am in. She is on her way from Honduras, to the great place the United States of America. She has some food that she collected in the jungle, and a bit of water. She realizes what state I was in, and offers me some food to eat and water to drink.

Time passes, as we make our way back to the railroad track. As we approach the tracks, we hear a large cargo train coming our way. At the time of it approaching us, it is traveling very fast, almost to the point to not being able to jump onto it safely. I start to jog as it ap-proaches, and move into a full sprinting motion trying to grab on. I lift one hand up onto the old rusted out handle near the ladder on the cargo box, and at this point I am holding on for dear life. I push all my weight onto the handle, and it snaps off. As I fall back, I grab onto the door latch and relieve all of the weight onto another part of my body. I now have all of my weight on my knees. I feel the metal cut-ting into the tips of my knees but manage to lift myself onto the train.

I look back and in the corner of my eye as I see Maria's beautiful black long hair swirling in the wind. I hear her scream at me, “¡Nece-sito ayuda a Alma!”

At this moment I know that she is in a lot of trouble, and I grab my belongings and sprint down to her. When I focus my eyes on where she was holding on, I realized it was starting to give out from her. I get down on my bleeding knees and place my hand on her hand. When I finally get a good grip on her hand, I lift up with all of my force.

I then hear a man's voice, “¿Necesita ayuda?” The man's voice sounds exactly like the man who raped me, and from that I lift even harder. I finally get Maria onto the train safely.

The man then starts laughing, “Wow realmente hiciste algo bueno, por una vez en tu vida.”

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The Road to NowhereHe lunges at me and pulls me towards his torso. I have a flash-

back, and realize I have to stop running. He grabs me harder and harder, with a creepy smile on his face. I spin my hand around as hard as I can, and stick my fingers into his eyes. Then I swing my leg round kicking him off the train. As he falls off the train, I watch his facial expression change very quickly. He tries to grab onto the freight train but doesn’t have enough time. The last thing I see of the man is his legs getting run over by each carriage.

The entire journey from this point may be a bit less stressful, not having to worry about that man. Every moment up to this point, I have been worrying about him coming after me and doing what he did to me. I need to find where I need to go next from this point. My next stop is going to be Tamaulipas, Mexico. At this point I have now trav-eled over 1,000 miles by train and on foot meeting many awesome people, and many terrible humans. This journey has consisted of lots of confusion and disbelief. I am still trying to figure out what hap-pened to me in the forest with that man.

I finally make it to Tamaulipas, and map out my journey from here on. My main goal is to find a smuggler to help me cross the Texan border. There are many risks of being sent back down to Hon-duras if I don't have everything planned out correctly. As I look over my shoulder, I see Maria talking to a strange man. I walk over, and sit under the shade of the tree and listen to what they are talking about. When I realize that it’s a smuggler, I shot up real quick and chime in on the conversation.  

“Hola señor,” I say in a soft voice.“¿Cómo estás? ¿Cómo puedo ayudarte?” he replies.“Estoy en mi camino a los Estados Unidos , y necesito un poco

de ayuda en el camino.”“Suena muy bien, puedo hacer que eso suceda sin ningún prob-

lema,” he says with a creepy smile. Maria looks over at me, “Sí, estamos tanto vamos a entrar en los

Estados Unidos!”“Si ustedes dos se van a poner en sin dificultades. Y os guiará a

partir de ahora,” the man says.“Increíble. No puedo esperar,” Maria says with a large smile on

her face.“Mañana los dos reunirse conmigo, a las 4:30 aquí,” he says,

walking to his house.

We now have a smuggler lined up, but the only issue at this point is how much money do we both have. When I left I had, 4516 Hon-duran Lempira saved and I am now left with 3234 Honduran Lempira. Tomorrow when I meet with the smuggler, we are going to discuss how much he is going to charge to get Maria and I across the border.

I am now on my way to the smugglers house, we are all going to meet again under the shady tree. I am stressed about the amount of money I am going to owe the smuggler, due to not having much money to my name at all.

“Hola, ¿cómo estás?” the smuggler says with a grin.“Ambos estamos haciendo muy bien,” Maria replies happily.“Nos gustaría llegar a los Estados Unidos la próxima semana, por

cuánto tiempo ha sido este viaje,” I say firmly.The smuggler replies, “Bueno, yo puedo hacer que suceda. Voy a

darte dos mucho, voy a cobrar dos $900 dólares cada tanto $1600 dólares para los dos.”

“Bien perfecto, tengo el efectivo para ti mañana. ¿Podemos em-pezar mañana el final de este viaje?” I ask with a look of fear in my eyes.

The smuggler says, “Sí me conoce mañana, y nos pondremos todo cuadrado lejos. Lo único que tengo que decir es no decirle a nadie, si alguien se entera de será reportados a la policía.”

I walk away with Maria, and we both figure out where we are go-ing to sleep for the night. As the day goes on, the cold air starts to fes-ter in the canyon. I realize how far I have taken myself as a young girl, I am now feeling like I almost completed something I have looked up to my entire life.

The next day I wake up, and remember today is the big day to get to the United States of America. I let Maria know to get up quickly, due to not wanting the man to forget about us. When we walkeup to the man, he has a dilapidated car with the doors open. When I was thinking about this last part of the journey, I thought we were going to be wedged in the back of a car but this is very comfortable. We drive 200 miles, and make it to the border fence. I notice a small hole, where someone has made it easy to lass through. The man points at the hole, “Climb through. There is another car waiting for you on the other side.”  

360

The Road to NowhereAs I run towards the fence, I never have felt such a strong energy

change that went through by body. I put one foot into the United States soil, and realize I am one step closer to becoming a citizen of the United States of America.

Nuevo Comienzo

Darian RoblesMy feet are aching, my entire body is, I am thirsty and I want to

collapse. I am happy to be across the border but even that happiness cannot mask my tired body and beaten spirit. I am scared the Border Patrol Officer will find me and deport me. I am hungry, tired, and thirsty, my spirit almost crushed but I forge ahead.

The sun beats down on my skin and my lips are dry to the point to where they sting. I find a small tree to sit under to take a much needed rest. I close my eyes and feel myself slipping from conscious-ness, I am so tired I can barely stay awake. I know if I sleep the bor-der patrol may find me and I am too far to be taken back now.

I stop to think a little bit to distract myself from my pain, I think about my mother and her soft touch, her loving personality. I start to tear up a little bit thinking about my past life in Honduras, but I have to move on. My mother isn’t here to take care of me anymore. I've been through a lot on this journey by myself. I don't need to be depen-dent on my mother or anyone else because I can look after myself. These thoughts still do not mask my homesickness and longing to see my mother.

The sun’s rays are unforgiving and do not let me have a single moment of rest. There in the distance I see it, a road, it is a beacon of hope telling me I’m not far from a city. It makes me scared as well for fear that one person may say something or question me. I try not to stay close to the roadside but follow it in hopes of finding somewhere to get water and food with the little money I have. This place is dry and barren, there seems to be no water anywhere, just waves of sand.

I look up to see a man sitting on the side of the road, I am scared to go near him, I think what if he tries to grab me or calls the police. I try to walk around him without any trouble but I hear his stark coarse voice call to me, “¿Oye niña, tienes comida?”

I look back at the man unsure of whether to respond or to keep walking. He brings his head up, he is a Mexican man, mid-40’s, dirt and sweat cover his face. I remember the kindness that Maria had shown me but also what that man had done to me. Without hesitation

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The Road to NowhereI turn and begin to walk away from the man but he says, “Tenemos que permanecer juntos.”

I turn back and ask, “¿Vaz a cruzar la frontera?” He replies, “¿Si, como te llamas?”“¿Mi nombre es Alma, cuál es el tuyo?” I say back still wary and

alert. “¿Mi nombre es Jose, y tú, vaz a cruzar la frontera?” he asks. For

some reason I feel that I can trust this man, his tone is calm and he seems friendly.

I reply, “Sí y estoy muy cansado.” He says, “Sentiate aqui, no te asustes.” This man does not seem

like a threat to me so I sit down next to him. He hands me a canteen with some water and I am so thirsty I don't hesitate to drink.

I put down the canteen and grab some bread from my knapsack made out of a t shirt. I hand him the half loaf of bread.

“Gracias,” he says with a tired smile on his face. “De nada,” I say back. I ask him, “¿Por qué quieres cruzar la frontera?”He looks back after he finishes his bread and says, “Porque mi fa-

milia necesita dinero, vine aquí para trabajar.” “¿Vas a alojarte en Texas?” I ask. He replies, “Si yo estoy aquí porque estoy buscando trabajo. ¿Vas

a quedarte en Texas?” “No, yo quiero ir a California,” I say. “California está muy lejos, pero un tren va ahí,” he says back. I

am surprised, I hadn’t really thought of how I was going to get to Cal-ifornia. I wanted to go there to look for work and now I have a way to get there.

I ask him, “¿A donde está el tren?” “El tren está cerca, sigue caminando derecho  y lo versa,” he

says. I am overwhelmed with happiness and feel blessed. I don't want

to waste anytime and say, “Gracias, Jose, y adios.”He looks up at me and says, “¡Adios Alma y buena suerte!” I

smile and wave goodbye to Jose and he waves back. I am glad that I met someone so nice and helpful, maybe not all men are crude and have bad intentions.

I keep walking forward looking left and right for the train station. Along the road I see tumbleweeds and shrubs, a lizard runs in front of me and I nearly step on it. The weather is very hot and dry in Texas,

very similar to Mexico’s weather. After what seems like an hour I see the train station, some tracks and a loading area for the trains and I am again overwhelmed by happiness. I have to think, I can't just ride on top of the train or else I will be caught, I have to hide inside a cargo car, I see a train about to leave the station and without hesitation I rush to it. Once I am close to the train I look around to see if anyone is around, I see no one and get into an empty car. About thirty sec-onds later I hear voices, I become very scared and alert.

I try to conceal the sound of my breathing as I hear the voices come closer. One of them says, “Hey did you see the Texans play on Sunday night?”

The other replies, “Yeah, they crushed the Browns!” They come closer to the car I’m in, I crawl to the corner. They throw some hay bales into the car and shut the doors. I am breathing hard, I am sur-prised and relieved they didn't see or hear me.

I hear the sound of the train whistling and the engine starting, the whole train rumbles as it takes off from the station. I am glad I am on my way to California, but it is dark and cold inside the cargo car. I am scared that I will go hungry and thirsty inside the car for however many days I will be inside. I play a game counting to however high I can, I start to get sleepy and lay down, I close my eyes and drift away. I wake up to the train coming to a screeching halt, I hear the engine wind down and the sound of the whistle. I hear men unload the cargo cars and their conversations.

I crawl into a ball in a corner, in fear of them checking my car. I don’t think I’m in California, because it has only been one day. It seems like the morning, because it’s warm and I can see sunlight through tiny crevices on the cable car. I am miserable at this point, I am very hungry and thirsty, my tongue feels like sandpaper, there is a metallic taste in my mouth that I cannot get rid of. I can hold off for about another day but I can’t go much further after that with an empty stomach and dry mouth. The men outside are no longer talking and unloading the cars, then I hear the sound of the engine, it rattles the whole train. The sound of the train’s whistle pierces the quiet of the morning. The train is moving once more and I pray to God asking for protection on the rest of my way to California.

I am sick and tired of this train, I have no way to entertain my-self, other than count and say the alphabet. It’s night time about now and I am starting to get tired, my eyes get droopy and I slip away. I

364

The Road to Nowheream awoken by the sudden stop of the train, I smell manure and hear horses neighing. I am almost sure I am in California, I smell fresh grass and crops, the sun is leaking through the cracks of the train. I hear the sound of men again coming to unload the train, they open the sliding doors of the cars very close to mine. I become scared again, I have to think of what to do next. When they open the door, should I wait for them to take the hay and hope they don’t see me? I have no choice but to sit here helplessly until one of the men open the sliding door. I hear them approach my car, their footsteps inch closer and closer. I start to sweat, if I get caught now everything I've endured will be for nothing. I have to stay strong, slow my breathing and think clearly.

The men are at the door and unlock the latch, they slide the door open, I am in the corner close to the door standing pressed against the door. I am so afraid but I can't make a peep. The men start to grab and take the hay bales out of the car and leave to put them somewhere. Now is my chance, I look out the door and I see no one around, I get down and hop off the car. I get under the train in fear of being seen. All around me is flat fields with different crops, then I see my ticket, I see a corn field not too far from where I am. I look around and then run to the cornfield.

Inside the cornfield I help myself to some corn, I eat one immedi-ately and keep some for later. I need water, my throat is so dry I feel as if it is going to close up. Then I see a well in the distance, I look around for any people and run up to it. It is a stone well that has moss on the inside, I don't think twice and bring up the bucket. I press it to my lips and am immediately satisfied with the cool water. I drink to my heart content and then lower the bucket.

Now I must think of how I can make it to the city and start look-ing for work. In the distance I see a car pass by and immediately start heading towards the road. When I get to the road I see a sign that reads San Ysidro. I am relieved and so happy that I am finally in Cali-fornia. The sun shines bright and hangs high in the sky, the air seems so fresh and pleasant. Then I remember, I need to call my mother to tell her of the good news, who knows maybe I could get her here somehow. I feel guilty leaving her in Honduras but she has her family there, I need to hear her voice again. I need to make sure she is alright and safe back in Honduras.

I get to a nearby mini-mart, the sign reads 711, what a puzzling name for a mini-mart. I see a pay phone and it reads 25 cents, I don't

have any American money but a man walks out the mini mart and drops change. I find a medium sized silver coin with the profile of a man. I put the silver coin in the pay phone and it tells me to dial the number I am looking for, I input my mother’s home phone number and wait for the ringing to stop.

While the ringing continues I think about what I have accom-plished. I have become an independent woman, I've gone through a lot of hardships but I am finally in the place I have dreamed of living in for years. I am proud of what I have accomplished, I never thought I could endure a journey like this, but I have persevered. The ringing stops, I hear her soothing voice after what seems like forever.

“¿Bueno?” I have so many things to say, but I am at a loss for words.

“¿Mama?”“¿Ay,, Alma, eres tu?”“Si ma, yo estoy en los Estados Unidos.” I hear her crying from

her line.“¿Estas bien hija?"“Si mama, te amo.”“Te amo Alma, yo estoy muy orgulloso...”The payphone beeps and I can no longer hear my mom’s voice. I

start to cry tears of joy, I have finally spoken to my mother, and things are looking alright for her and I. Now I need to move on and find a job as soon as I can. The sun is fading and the light is fading quickly, I need to figure out where I will sleep for the night. I realize I‘m going to be sleeping on the street tonight. I see some cardboard in a trash can and go into the alley. I put the cardboard on the floor and lay down, I start to wonder if I can find work and if anyone will hire someone my age. All these thoughts are put out because of my ex-haustion and I close my eyes. I wake up the next day realizing I have to beg for money to get food and water.

I beg on the street the whole day, the clouds are covering the sky, grey about to release water onto the street. I realize I need to find shelter, the wind is strong and it won’t stop. Then I feel a sudden warmth, the wind lets up a little, and a man comes closer to me. I look up, he has a friendly warm smile and is dressed very nicely with a col-lared shirt and slacks. He looks at me and hands me five dollars, I re-ply with a thank you. He walks ahead and begins to call someone, I

366

The Road to Nowheredon't understand what he is saying because I don't understand English very well.

He doesn’t leave for a long time and he stopped his phone call a while ago. I become scared, what if he is calling someone to help him take me. I have no protection, I become scared and get up, I start to walk away. I walk about a block away and look behind me and see the man following me. I go to an alley scared and try to collect my thoughts, why would he give me money if he was going to take me? To appear as nice and appealing? It is hard for me to trust men, Jose was the only man who has been nice to me other than my father. Ev-ery other man has done me wrong and didn’t care about me or my feelings.

I see a car come and stop right at the alley, two women come out, I look away and then back seeing they are walking towards me. They get right next to me and one of them says, “Nosotros te podemos ayu-damos, tenemos comida y una cama para ti.”

I become cautious and say, “A donde me vas a llevar?” “El orfanato,” the lady saysI think about it and I don’t think I could find a job because of my

age and I will have to beg to survive. I agree and take the lady’s hand, the sun is shining now and it is warm.

The sun hits my skin and I feel very happy, maybe my life in America may not be the dream I had hoped for, but I am safe from harm and can start my future here. The ladies drive me to the orphan-age, and once I get off they take me inside. They show me my room saying, “Descansa un poco.“

I sleep for a while and wake up to the smell of food, I get up and see a large room with many children. Some are my age and others are smaller, I then get nervous because I can't speak english very well. What will my future look like here in the United States, maybe i'll live here and get a job in the near future.

I sit down for the meal next to some kids, one tries to talk to me but I don't understand, I stare blankly at him and then turn away. I fin-ish eating and fill my hungry stomach, I walk back to my room and sleep some more. I dream of myself being grown up in a house of my own, and then about my mother in Honduras. I am proud of what I've done and the independent person I've become. I have made my mom proud and if my father was alive he would be too. Tears roll down my cheeks, not out of sadness but out of a mixture of joy and disbelief. I

made it to America, I went through a lot but I know now that anything is possible if I put my mind, soul, and body into it.

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The Road to Nowhere

Honduras

Mis Decisiónes: Parte 1 – Brooklyn Medrano…...……...……381Mis Decisiónes: Parte 2 – Jennifer Resendiz………….……...389Mis Decisiónes: El Fin – Alec Johnson………………………399

Decisions are what create our future. Excuses are used in order to correct a wrong decision. The decision to leave a loved one or to find one seems impossible to make. Gloria, a desperate mother in search of the perfect place to raise her unborn child leaves her loving husband behind in Honduras. Alongside her is Esteban, a lost soul in search of his mother who made the choice  leave first. Both have a reason to stay, but they also have a reason to go. Will they find what they are looking for, or will they need an excuse to cover up their mis-take?

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The Road to Nowhere

Mis Decisiónes: Parte 1

Brooklyn MedranoI hear the ringing of the phone in my bedroom, and go to pick it

up. The regular evening call from my mother.“Hola.”“Hijo, tengo malas noticias.”“¿Qué paso?”“Sólo quiero que sepas que te amo y aunque me ha ido siempre

estaré en tu corazón.”“¿Qué? ¿Qué pasó mamá? ¿Por qué dices esas cosas?”“Estoy realmente enferma y hablé con el doctor, dijo no hay nada

que puede hacer por mí.”“No, no estes jugando bromas, estabas sana la última vez que te

vi.”“No, no estoy jugando cualquier chiste, estoy hablando en serio.”“No, no es posible, usted me está mintiendo.”“No estoy mintiendo, mi cuerpo está verdaderamente enfermo.”“Necesita algo. Hare lo que sea, solo dime.”“Sólo quiero que estés a mi lado hasta el final. Ven a quedarte

conmigo me siento sola pasando por este dolor.”“Mamá usted sabe que no puedo dejar a Gloria, tengo que estar

a su lado para el bebé y para ella.”“Así que si vino abajo a esta gloria sería más importante que la

mujer que le planteó soy solo una anciana que no tiene más signifi-cación a la vida. ”

“Mamá usted sabe que no es cierto mal pedir gloria a venir con-migo.”

“No quiero que esa mujer en mi casa sobre todo ese hijo bas-tardo suyo.”

“Lo siento mi hijo.”“Está bien vamos hablar de gloria y nos vemos pronto.”“Esta bien, voy hablar con gloria arato.”The phone hanging from my hand with the other one clenched

tightly, the walls are closing in. I stare outside the window while my cloud of thoughts take over, making me look away. I'm not sure what I should tell Gloria. I hear other footsteps besides mine walk into the room. I'll just tell her later.

“Hey cómo fue su día que le preguntó.”“Fue muy bien y.”Should I tell her now? ...No I don't think It’s the right time I'll

just say, “Estoy bien.” Gloria hears the crack in his voice like he was lying.

“¿Estás seguro?”“ Si,” he said.“Bueno así que ¿qué quiere comer?” she said.“Sopa de tortillas.”“Suena bien.”“Te ayudo hacer la cena.”“Suena bien gracias.” Hearing the table and dishes chatter. I'm

not sure how to ask her to come stay with my mom and I what if she gets upset?

“Valentine... Valentine….. Valentine….” Gloria says  “Si?”“Llamaba su nombre cinco veces estás bien.”“Sí bien.”“Aunque eres todo sudoroso.”“¿Um cómos la sopa?”“¿Es bueno sólo necesita sal más puede pasa?”I hand her the salt while my head shakes like my voice. I don't

think I can tell her today I'll just tell her tomorrow.Gloria begins to talk about her day, but all I could think of is the

right moment to tell her. Will there ever be a right moment to tell her? I stare up at the ceiling, not even looking because so many thoughts keep going and coming.

It's been five days, I know I need to tell her. I’ll...I’ll um..I'll tell her right away when she walks through that door after she gets off of work. I start to pace around our worn down blue and grey carpet. I feel the walls start to close in on me. I go to the bathroom to change because I feel soaked in my own sweat. I look in the mirror seeing the sweat rolling down my face. I change and I hear the front door knob moving like someone is putting keys in. I go straight to the living room and I'm ready to say the words but she goes ahead and says we need to talk. My stomach drops. She knows.

“Lo que quieres hablar.”“Vamos a ir a la sala de estar.”

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The Road to NowhereWe walk to the living room. So many ideas are running through

my head, I'm not quite sure yet on what to do.“¿Cómo estuvo tu día?”“Fue buena y es que.”“Estaba bien.”“Quiere sentarse.”I follow her to the couch. She keeps stalling and staring awk-

wardly, but I don't know why. It has to be really serious.“Lo que tienes que decir, Gloria.”She just staring at me and I'm not sure what to do, I feel like there

is something that needs to be filled, but isn’t.“¿Qué es Gloria?”“Y?”“Bien vamos a tener un bebé pronto y tuyo y mi pasado era que

en honduras lo he estado pensando acerca de mudarse a Unidos para una vida mejor para el futuro de nuestro futuro y nuestro bebé en los próximos años…”

I have to make the right decision now but how? This means I have to try and make her stay with me. She is all I need.

“Gloria mi mamá había llamado y ella me dijo básicamente está muriendo y sabes lo importante es para mí y ella había preguntar si usted y yo podemos estar allí en sus últimos momentos.”

“Tu madre odia me que dudo que ella quiere que en su momento final que no voy. no voy a pasar sus últimos momentos con ella lo sentimos.”

“¿Pero ella se muere usted realmente va a hacer esto a mí?”“Sí y ¿qué futuro de nuestro hijo? no quieres ir eso es todo

¿EH?”“Sí que no me gusta en absoluto el hecho de.”“No vamos en tres días.”“¿Tres días no crees que es un poco demasiado pronto para un

pensamiento?”“Tienes razón he estado pensando en esto durante un mes y han

sido secretamente ahorrando dinero para ambos de nosotros así podemos hacerlo rápido.”

“¿Bien no cree que usted debe han hablado a mí esto ya que es nuestro hijo?”

“Bien no quiere decir que no porque su mamá está aquí.”

“Bien voy a decir no es donde crecimos y donde se encontró que entre si honduras tiene muchos recuerdos donde quiero mostrar a nuestro hijo.”

We sit there in silence because I am scared I fear of her leaving me and not staying. I know that I will have to make a decision and it will change my entire life.

“Voy a dejar ya sea contigo o sin ti porque esto es importante para nuestro hijo,” says Gloria.

I can feel my face turn red because it feels hot and there is some-thing crawling up my throat, I feel a pit in my stomach. I don't want her to leave me, I know leaving to go to the united states is a danger-ous thing.

“Gloria que no se acaba... ”She cuts me off saying, “Sé que sé qué decisión te puse a través

de no pretendo de esto suceder pero es y tenemos que tomar una de-cisión.”

“Nos o porque decidiste todo esto en su propio sin incluirme.”“Así que tienes que elegir nuestro futuro y nuestro hijo o su

mamá.”I start to stare off because I have no clue what to say. Words just

disappear from my mouth. What do I do? How will I make her stay? Why would she do this to me?

“Gloria por favor no te vayas sin mí estancia conmigo hacerlo para mi mamá ella se va y ella no será en nuestra vida.”

My stomach has knots, and my throat feels like it's cracking. “Gloria le dije a mi mamá que le vería pronto.”“¿Por lo que es tomar decisiones sin mí?”“Bien que tuve ninguna pista que estabais pensando en esto

porque no incluye me en esta decisión y probablemente muchas otras cosas, gloria se siente como se fue detrás de mi espalda antes de que me siento traicionada.”

“Estás sobre exagerando.”“No no soy.”“Sí eres tú no deberías estar loco estaba pensando en nuestros

hijos y nuestro futuro.”“También esto habría nos puso en una situación diferente si

usted me hubiera incluido, pero usted no.”“No sé qué más decirte.”“Ver de me que hubiera dicho a mi madre habría incluido.”

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The Road to NowhereShe cuts me off again… “No habría probablemente nos hacen quedarse para cuidar de tu

madre.”“Y.”“No importa porque eso no es lo que sucedió.”“Sí importa gloria te.”She cuts me off AGAIN…. now I'm just getting frustrated at this

point. “Ninguna parada bien no lucha por esto hagamos le gusta la

idea.”“¿NO i odio la idea de que están escuchándome?”“Era, pero pensé que no quería ir por su mamá.”“¿Sí es otra razón lo que está mal con nuestra vida aquí?”“Todo el barrio, la falta de dinero que nos pagan.”“Lo sé, pero nosotros hemos hecho este lejos.”“Sí lo hicimos pero luchábamos por no quiero que mi hijo o hija

a luchar como lo hicimos.”“Hiciste exactamente.”“Hacer lo que.”“Secretamente cómo el dinero.”“No importa.”“Importa gloria paran diciendo que están dejándome fuera de

todo y no entiendo. ¿por qué?”“No quiero decirte.”“No, no te estoy diciendo.”“Bien.”I feel betrayed and lied to by the women I loved the most. Be-

sides my mom. I get up because I was tired of sitting and my legs felt wobbly, like I was going to fall

Gloria asks me, “Quieres un vaso de agua.”“No haber hecho lo suficiente lo voy a mismo.”“Está bien que.”I get up, and I can't ignore the pit in my stomach. I feel like the

walls are closing in on me again.In the kitchen it's cozy, and I grab the cold gold handle to open

the brown cabinet. I take down the small green cup with faded words. I keep thinking to myself, if glori leaves me I will feel empty I will feel like a piece of me is gone. I spilled the cold water because of my shaky hand and my cloud of thoughts had taken over. I walk over to get a paper towel while thinking, if I stay with my mom and try to

convince gloria to stay and build a good life for us and our child, maybe she’ll stay. Gloria walks into the kitchen and I ask her

“Gloria por favor quiero para quedarse y cuidar de mi mamá. ¿no tienes? Si tu mamá estaba enferma estarías a su lado en un santi-amén y apoyo. ¿Por qué no me dejas hacerlo? ¿por qué no te quedas a mi lado?”

“Porque he estado planeando esto y estaba emocionada y an-siosa por esto.”

“Bien usted no hubiera sentido como si me hubieran incluido en sus pensamientos y planes.”

“¿Cómo cómo usted me incluido con tu mamá?”“Gloria que he sido destacando hacia fuera sobre cómo decirle.”“¿Qué significa que usted podría apenas me han dicho?”“No se no fue sencillo porque tú y mi mamá no se gustan.”“He probado muchos tiempo ser amable con ella y sabes San Va-

lentín.”“Yo sé que yo sé que yo sé.”“¡ Prepárate para la cama es de 10:00 p.m.”“No tenemos que terminar hablando de esto.”“No sea tarde.”“Podemos hablar sobre esta mañana de Gloria.”“Bien.”We start to get ready for bed and I feel uncomfortable and awk-

ward because we’re not talking. I want to kiss her goodnight like I al-ways do, but I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do at this moment. I feel like it's the like it's my first day of a new job, or it's the first day of a new high school. It's just awkward. I hate this, I don't want to feel like this in my own home with the love of my life. It isn't a right feel-ing. I just want to stay here, I don't feel like leaving. Because I'm scared of something happening to her and our baby. I couldn't live without them or even see my life without them. I am in bed thinking of how to make her stay with me in Honduras. She doesn't like my mom. Now that I'm thinking about it, I can't think of anything to make her stay. I keep tossing and turning, and I come to the conclusion that I can see where she’s coming from and she has been thinking and working hard. Probably to come up with the money. Maybe I should go. I can protect her if anything were to happen, but what if we get separated? As I look over to tell  gloria, I realize she is asleep. So I turn around and fall asleep myself.

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The Road to NowhereI wake up finding gloria not in bed. I assume she is in the bath-

room since it’s been shut, and we never keep the bathroom door shut. I decide to make breakfast, while I'm putting the warm pancakes onto the plate I notice she hasn’t been in here for a while. I walk to the bathroom and I knock softly.

“Are you alright in there?” I ask. I wait a moment for a response but I did not get one. I open the door and she's not there, I check the kitchen, living room, bedroom, outside in the front and back she's gone. I can't find her. I sit down, maybe she went to the store. As I’m sitting on the couch, an envelope on the fridge catches my eye. I go to the kitchen with confusion. I open the envelope all messy, and it's from gloria. It says

Dear Valentine,

I'm sorry, but I left. I really want our child to have a better life than what we have had. This was very difficult for me to do, but I had to. You didn't want to come with me and I worked hard and took a lot of time to do this. I hope you will understand. Maybe when your mother is better or has passed away you will meet us in the united states. I will try to keep in contact, please dont be mad. I love you.

Forever yours,

Gloria

I keep re-reading and re-reading because I would never thought she would actually leave me. I can't believe this. Did she ever really love me? Did I do anything wrong in the past? How do I fix this? What do I do? Tears start to stream down from my face and my throat feels like it's breaking. As if my heart is being broken into tiny pieces that can't be fixed, I'm not sure what to do. The letter hanging from my hand flutters to the ground. I start to feel the walls close in again. I go outside and sit on the porch. As I look out my thoughts take over once again, thinking of what to do and what I can do. I know that I need to take care of my mother and go over soon. What do I say about gloria, nothing? Do I mention it? I just hope she doesn't ask, because I don't want her to be worried or fight with her about gloria. I can't han-dle this and neither can she. I go back inside to pack up my things to go to my mothers. While I'm packing I wonder to myself how I

messed up. How I should have told her last night when I had decided I wanted to go. Maybe if she would have known she wouldn't have left me. She said she would contact me, how? How will she? I just want to know if she's okay. Maybe I should stay at the house till three then head over to my mom's house, just in case she calls or decides to come back.

While I wait on our worn brown couch I decide to watch televi-sion, but I can’t pay attention to what’s happening. It feels like I’m not really here, I’m only in my thoughts and when I do try to come back I only feel lost. I don’t even know what I’m doing or where I’m at.

I hear a loud noise that startles me out of my thoughts, I snap my head up and realize it’s four o'clock. I start getting my things, but re-ally slowly, because I have hope that she will come back through those doors. Or at least call and tell me to come get her, but that doesn’t happen. I drag my feet as I walk towards the door and slowly turn the knob. As I walk out of the house I look back and remember our fight. I walk out wondering if should I lock the door or leave it unlocked just in case she does come back, because I know she didn't take her keys. I walk to my moms because it not that far. Only three blocks away. I feel the mist in the air touch my skin, likes its going to rain. It feels good against my face, it makes me feel like I still have hope that she will at least call. I start walking and thinking for a while, but I still feel empty. I feel like there's something missing. Which is gloria. When I get to my mom's house I knock on the door before I walk in. Then I remember maybe she can't open the door, so I just open it and say, “Mom it's Valentine, your son.”

I go to her room where I find her lying in bed. he’s very pale. There’s no more blush her face is drained of color  she doesn't look healthy at that point when she says hhhh-iiii she doesn't sound normal she sounds worse than what she did on the phone at that point I break, I start crying and I hug her because I can't believe what happen with gloria and now I see my mom looking like she only has moments to live. How long do you think you will stay with me?

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The Road to Nowhere

Mis Decisiónes: Parte 2

Jennifer Resendiz“Hijo no llores, te prometo que volveré y te traeré muchos dul-

ces,” me dijo mi mamá. No la dejaba ir, yo sabía que ese sería la úl-tima vez que la vería.

“Mami no te vayas, no quiero estar solo," le suplique. “No te preocupes estaremos juntos otra vez Esteban,” me dijo

soltandome de su abrazo. Empezó a caminar lejos de mi, pero trate de correr hacia ella. Mis pies no se podían mover y ella siguió cami-nando. Luego escuche muchas voces diciendo lo mismo.

“Tu mamá no va regresar, Tu mamá está muerta.” “No es cierto, no es cierto," les grite tapando mis oídos con mis

manos.  “Callence!” Sentí mi corazón latir muy rápido y me calli en la oscuridad.

“Mama!”

Me levanto con el estúpido grito del gallo de la vecina. Un dia de estos me lo voy a robar y hacer un rico caldo de pollo. Sonrío a mi mismo y se me va lo enojado. Miro a mi lado para ver el calendario que cuelga en la pared. Apenas puedo ver la fecha con todas las notas mal escritas que cubren el mes de julio. Miro los círculos marcando el dia 2, hoy es el dia. Me quedo mirando la fecha, como si por hacer esto puedo ver todo lo que va pasar los días que siguen. Paro de pen-sar en babosadas y me levanto con esfuerzo. Me lavo la cara con el agua que collecté de las gotas de lluvia que cayeron de mi techo ayer. Con la misma toalla de siempre me lavo el cuello y los sobacos. Me alisto con ánimo que alguien pensaría que iba a mi propio funeral. Me cuelgo el collar de mi amá y mis viejos audífonos de siempre. Suspiro mi último aliento en el odiado cuarto que he tenido que llamar casa por cuatro años.

Me llevo la mochila con todo lo que me queda en la vida y cierro la puerta sin mirar para atrás. Paso por la cocina y la sala de la dueña, sé que están dormida ella y sus hijos malcriados. Si hago un ruido me va a regañar por levantarla y va a pensar que le estoy robando, como siempre. Me llevo su último pedazo de pan, al fin que no la volveré a ver para que me regañe. Ahora a caminar, espero que traje suficiente

para alcanzarme medio viaje, porque yo sé que no voy a tener nada para el fin. Con cada calle que paso trato de recordar los momentos felices y olvidar los malos, por fin le digo adiós a este pueblo.

Llegue a la casa de mi amigo, Cruz, pero no le toco su puerta. Deseguro esta drogado como siempre. Le dejó una nota, la misma que dejó cada vez que hago el viaje, en caso que no regrese. La puerta se abre de repente y sale la madre de Cruz, Lucia, y la saludo como siempre. Es una mujer chaparra y gordita, con ojos amorosos y pelo largo. Es bien amable conmigo, que hasta algunas veces la miro como si fuera mi madre. Me mira con una mirada triste y sin decir nada me da una caja de almuerzo, me bendice, y me besa la mejilla. A ella no le gusta la idea de  que me valla pero sabe que no me puede parar, por eso no protesta cuando mi mente está hecha.

“Gracias por todo señora Lucia, por favor digale adios a Cruz por mi.”

“Claro hijo, espero que te valla bien, si regresas, regresas vivo me oíste.”

“Sí señora, se lo prometo.” Le regreso el beso que me dio y me despido por última vez. Sigo el camino a la frontera, la primera que voy a tener que cruzar.

○○○

Camino por el camino que conozco como mi nombre. Saludo a unos de mis cuates y me dicen adiós con la misma cara. Piensan que estoy loco haciendo la cruzada de nuevo, pero me vale. Camino al rumbo para encontrar el mismo coyote de siempre. Lo odio con todo lo que tengo, pero es el único que me puede llevar al otro lado. Perico, de apodo, es el más buscado coyote de México.

Miro a ‘Períco’, y las personas tratando de cruzar. Nadie sabe su verdadero nombre, ni creo que lo sabe su mujer, pero eso no me in-teresa. Lo saludo de donde estoy, necesito la distancia porque no podemos estar juntos. Las primeras dos veces que intente cruzar lo miraba como un amigo, pero cuando me dejó para que los demás se pudieran escapar, nunca le di mi confianza. Miro a mi alrededor para ver con quién voy a estar cruzando, casi todos son hombres, y sola-mente hay dos mujeres, esto me pareció bien. Todos estaban tratando de estar debajo de la sombra del restaurante a nuestro lado, nadie

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The Road to Nowherequería empezar el viaje con calor. El viaje me pareció que iba a ser rápido y simple, pero luego, ella llegó. Escuché su voz atrás de mi de-cir “compermiso” y me moví para el lado para dejarla pasar. A la primera vista, la odie. Pedí a los cielos que ella no viniera con nosotros, pero se paró al lado de Períco como si lo conociera por años. A unas de las personas no les importo, pero los que han viajado por este camino suspiraron con enojo y lastima. La seguí viendo con mis puños apretados culpando la en este momento por todo lo que pasaría. No es ella por quien la culpo, pero es lo que tiene cargando en su es-tomago. Ese milagro de la vida que tiene, va a causar muchos proble-mas en este viaje. Ese estudio bebe.

Períco se aclara la garganta para agarrar nuestra atención. Todos voltean, pero yo me quedo mirando a ‘la embarazada’. Períco em-pieza a decir su mismo discurso que he escuchado por cuatro años, y puedo ver la cara de todos los que están aquí por primera vez. Es la misma cara que yo tenía cuando se me vino la realidad. Mire la cara de la embarazada llena de angustia y me reí a mi mismo. “Ojalá se ar-repienta y se regrese de donde vino” me digo a mi mismo. Períco em-pieza a llamar a personas y ponerlas en parejas.

“Sofía…….con Octavio, Jorge…….con Teo, Miguel... con Es-” Me voltie a verlo para ver porque se detuvo. Me miró a los ojos y son-rió una sonrisa peligrosa, y siguió a llamar nombres. “ Miguel tú te vas con Marcos, Esteban” me dio otra de sus estúpidas sonrisas, “Es-teban tu te iras con Gloria.” No tenía que preguntar quién era Gloria, yo podía sentir quién era por la mirada que me estaba dando. Se ac-ercó a mí y con una sonrisa me repitió su nombre.

“Hola, soy Gloria, es bueno conocerte Esteban.” Me quedé mi-rando su mano extendida por un tiempo Luego la mire a los ojos y con un suspiro recogí mi mochila del piso y me fui al otro lado del grupo.

“Ella no sera la razon porque no llegare al lado de mi mama.” Esto lo dijo en voz alta, no para que lo escuche alguien más, pero para que se me quede en la mente.

Esta vez no me iba en tren, no como mi primera vez. Es mejor murier a pie, que siendo atropellado en las villas de la Bestia. El jueves empezamos nuestro camino a la primera parada, Ixtepec, Oax-aca. Hubiéramos estado ahí el domingo pero ahora es Lunes, todo porque alguien estaba cansada y teníamos que parar por ella.

“Podemos parar por unos minutos, mis pies me duelen” preguntó la embarazada.

“Que, no puedes esperar hasta que lleguemos a la parada?” le pregunté mirándola a los ojos.

Me sonrió y me contestó con una voz cansada, “No soy tan fuerte como tu, lo siento por hacerte parar.”

Me quedo viendo la por un poco, pero luego miro al piso y digo en voz lenta, “Si no puedes aguantar este viaje, porque te veniste?”

Me miró y luego al piso, no se porque pero quería saber su re-spuesta. Levantó su mirada y me dijo con una voz seria,

“No importa que no pueda aguantar este viaje, lo tengo que aguantar. Por mi,” segnalo a su estomago, “Y por mi hijo.”

Me quedé mirando el piso, no sabiendo qué decir. Luego ella se adelantó y le dijo a Períco,

“No necesito parar, hay que continuar.” Descansamos por un dia en Ixtepec, pero empezamos a caminar

de nuevo. Períco escuchó que estaban buscando a inmigrantes por la orilla del Golfo de México, por eso nos iba a llevar por el centro de México. Caminamos por mas de siete dias, mi agua se acabó desde el día cuatro y no encontrábamos donde llenar nuestras botellas. Es-tábamos sentados tratando de recuperar aire, estuvimos corriendo de unos policías que supuestamente estaban en nuestro camino. Lamo mis labios para que no esten secos. Estaba mirando para abajo cuando sentí la presencia de alguien. Cuando mire para arriba mire una botella media llena de agua. Seguí la mano extendida para llegar a la cara sonriente de Gloria.

“Tomala, al fin que yo ya le tome.” Me dijo sonriendo otra vez. “No gracias, no la necesito.” le respondí, pero no moví la vista de

la botella de agua. “Bueno pues te la dejo aquí por si la quieres.” me digo poniendo

la botella de agua junto a mi. Espere hasta que se fuera a platicar con las otras mujeres, levente la botella de agua y me la tome en poco tiempo. La cerre y la puse en mi mochila con las otras botellas vacías. Suspiro y cierro mis ojos para descansar un poco más, tratando de preparar por lo que falta.

“Corran, no miren para atrás!” escuchó los gritos de Períco desde donde estoy. Él está hasta el frente con los otros hombres, las mujeres se quedan un poco atrás tratando de quedarse con el grupo. Escuchó

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The Road to Nowherelos gritos de los pandilleros pero me quedo con la vista para enfrente. Sentí mi pecho arder pero no deje que eso me detuviera. Los pasos empezaron a parar pero estoy seguro que todavía hay unos pocos que los persiguen. Todo lo que tengo en la mente es ideas en como puedo escapar, pero por un momento la cara sonriente de Gloria entra en mi mente. Empiezo a buscará por todo el grupo, tratando de mirarla para saber si estaba bien. En ese momento sentí un cuerpo lanzarse arriba de mi. Estaba tirado en el piso con mi cabeza enterrada en la tierra. El peso de el pandillero no me dejaba respirar, sentía sus manos tratando de abrir mi mochila y mis bolsillos.

“Donde tienes tu dinero,” mi grito haciéndome cerrar mis ojos por lo fuerte que hablaba.  Estaba tratando con toda mi fuerza para quitarlo de enzima pero no lo podía lograr.

“No se puede terminar aquí,” me dije a mi mismo.

De repente escuche un grito de atrás y en un instante el pandillero ya no estaba arriba de mi. Sentí el aire volver a mis pulmones, pero no me quedé parado ahí por mucho tiempo. Al empezar a correr escuche otro grito, pero este era diferente al otro, era uno de dolor. Me volteó para ver quien gritó y miró a Gloria arrodillarse. Se detiene la mano donde le escurre sangre y cierra sus ojos en dolor. Sin pensar en nada me dirijo hacia ella y golpeó al pandillero que la detiene inclinada.  Se caí al piso y le ayudó a Gloria a levantar. Me dirijo hacia el pandillero listo para romperle la cara, pero una mano me detiene. Gloria me mira con ojos asustados y lágrimas callando. La tomó de la mano y em-pezamos a correr dejando atrás el maldito pandillero. Me pregunto a mi mismo porque la ayude, y porque la tengo agarrada de la mano, pero lo que más quiero saber es porque tenía sangre.

Alcanzamos el grupo que estaban escondidos detrás de unas ro-cas. Todos estaban respirando fuerte y tenían la misma cara asustada. Mire a Períco tomando agua y me reí de su decepción que tenía a ver me regresar. Mi mente regresó a la mano agarrada de mi y volteó para ver a Gloria. Estaba mirando para abajo dejando sus lágrimas caller a la tierra. Pero sus lágrimas no era lo único cayendo, eso es cuando me acordé de la sangre. La agarre de los hombros y la moví para que me mirara a mi. Levante sus manos delicadamente. Moví la derecha pero no dijo nada. Luego le moví la izquierda y eso es cuando grito. Todos del grupo voltearon a ver y suspiraron cuando vieron la sangre.

“Como te paso esto,” le pregunté pero no me dijo nada. “Te hizo algo ese maldito” le pregunté con enojo, no se porque estaba enojado pero quería saber su respuesta.

Otra vez no dijo nada, deje su otra mano para que soportará la que estaba herida. Agarre mi pañuelo de mi bolsillo y lo amaré en la herida de Gloria. La ayude a sentar en una roca y me senté a su lado. Sofía, una de las otras mujeres, nos pasa una botella de agua y se la di a Gloria. La agarro con su mano temblando y le tomo un poco.

Levantó su mirada hacia mi y me miró por un poco hasta que me pregunto, “No te duele?”

No sabía a lo que se estaba refiriendo, pero lugo con su mano que no estaba dolorida, agarro la manga de su blusa y la levanto a mi frente, limpiando la de algo. A hacer esto me ardió la frente y eso es cuando supe que yo estaba lastimado. Moví la mano de Gloria de mi frente para seguir preguntandole lo que paso.

“Como te lastimastes? porque estabas atrás?” Ella me miró y luego me preguntó, “No te lastimo mucho, ver-

dad? Trate de tirarlo lomas rápido que pude, pero no tenía mucha fuerza, no estás lastimado en otra parte cierto?” Trate de procesar todo lo que me dijo y estaba confundido.

“Tu eres la persona que me lo quitó de encima?” Tranquilamente contestó que sí y por alguna razón todo el odio regreso en un instante.

“Como puedes ser tan estúpida, como puedes pelear contra un pandillero? No pensastes en ti, o en tu hijo, no quieres que nazca? Qué estabas pensando?” le grité todo lo que venía a la mente sin pen-sarlo dos veces.

“Lo hice pensando en ti, eres muy joven y deberías tener una vida en tu futuro, no puedes morir aquí.” Me dijo, su voz un poco alta.

“Y quién eres tú para decidir si muero o no, que tal si quería morir?” Le dije mi voz haciendo que todo el grupo nos estea viendo.

“Si de veras querías morir, no estuvieras haciendo este viaje, tú vas a America por algo o alguien, y no creo que lo puedes recuperar estando muerto.”

Me quedé callado pensando en mi mamá, Sabía que Gloria tenía razón pero no podía decirle eso, por eso me fui para el otro lado de el grupo. Esa noche me quedé pensando en mi mamá, alomejor si mi mama si esta muerta, yo tambien deveria estar muerto.

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The Road to NowhereSeguimos caminando por dos semanas y llegamos a Saltillo,

Coahuila. Estábamos sentados comiendo los almuerzos que unas per-sonas los dieron en nuestro camino. Bueno, todos menos yo porque Perico supuestamente contó mal y no agarro suficientes bolsas para todos. Me quedé solo mirando a todos comerse su comida. Luego miré a Gloria levantarse de su lugar y dirigirse hacia mi. Me ofreció mitad de su comida, y lo tomé sin pensarlo dos veces. Si no estuviera hambriento no la hubiera comido. Comimos en silencio, los dos teníamos miedo de decir algo. Por fin Gloria rompió el silencio y me dijo algo que no entendí.

“Que?” le pregunté. “Si estás bien, no te sientes marinade o dolorido?” “El hombre es el que tiene que preguntar eso.” le sonreí y me

sonreí para tras. No podía estar enojado con ella, todo mi enojo se fue el momento que me recordó en la razón porque estaba haciendo este viaje. Mi mama hizo este viaje dejando su hijo de diez años solo para dar le una vida mejor, y Gloria estaba haciendo lo mismo.

“Te puedo ser una pregunta?” le dije tratando de formar lo que le iba a preguntar para que lo entendiera.

“Claro, que es?” “Que harias si alguien que amas mucho para de hablar con tigo, y

piensas que se olvido de ti, la buscarías o la olvidadas?” Mis manos estaban temblando un poco, esperando su respuesta.

Gloria puso su mano arriba de las mías y me dijo en una voz conocida,

“Si deveras esa persona te ama, debería ver otra razon porque no te habla, no te a olvidado, entonces tu no la olvides.” Lo que dijo me trajo paz a mi mente. Su voz me recordaba a cuando mi mamá me ll-evaba a la cama y me decía las últimas cosas que quería decirme ese dia. Lo que decía se me olvidaba cuando me despertaba, pero siempre recordaba su voz. Hablamos hasta que se oscureció, nos íbamos a quedar en Saltillo por un dia para descansar.

Tome este tiempo para preguntarle a Gloria lo que le quería pre-guntar desde que la conocí, “Porque viniste en este viaje, con el bebé que tienes en tu panza?” Mi pregunta la tomó de sorpresa, su sonrisa desapareció, y se miraba a punto de llorar. Antes que me podíera dis-culpar, empezó a hablar, su voz muy diferente a la de hace unos minu-tos.

“Mi vida en Honduras no es la que quiero para mi hijo. El no merece vivir así.”

“Pero no te da miedo perderlo en este viaje, que no sería mejor quedarte en Honduras y tener a tu hijo sano y salvo y amarlo por toda tu vida.” Suspiró como si esta pregunta se la havian preguntado muchas veces.

“Suenas igualito a mi esposo. La vida de mi hijo no va ser fácil viviendo en Honduras, lo quiero ver sano y salvo, pero tambien lo quiero ver feliz. Y si tengo que dejar a mi esposo y poner mi vida en peligro, lo haría, y lo voy a cumplir.” Me quede callado después de eso, nunca pensando en esa manera. A oír la razón de Gloria, me ar-repentí por haber odiado a mi mamá por dejarme solo, ella nomas quería mi felicidad.

“Hay que parar de hablar de esto, mejor dime más sobre ti,” dijo Gloria, rompiendo el silencio.

“Que quieres saber?” le pregunté.“No se, cual es tu nombre completo, de donde eres, cuantos años

tienes, cosas asi.”“Bueno mi nombre es Esteban Luna, soy de Quetzaltenango,

Guatemala, y tengo diez y nueve años.” “Luna, que hermoso nombre.” “Gracias” le dije y asi pasamos la noche, descubriendo cosas

nuevas de los dos.

Durante la próxima semana caminamos hasta llegar a Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas. Nunca deje el lado de Gloria, no quería que nada le pasará. No se porque la estaba protegiendo tanto, pero no la quería ver lastimada. Nos encontramos con unos policías pero Perico hizo que nos dejaran pasar. Perico es una persona horrible, pero sabe cómo manejar a la gente. Estábamos por la frontera de México, aquí es donde termina y empieza todo. Nunca e logrado cruzar esta frontera, pero la tengo que cursar, no tengo otra opción. Siempre me e imagi-nado que al cruzar la frontera mi mamá estaría del otro lado es-perando me, pero ese sueño se fue desapareciendo poco a poco. Nunca he planeado lo que voy a ser cuando cruze, pero lo voy a ser. Este lugar es el más odiado de todos los inmigrantes, es el lugar donde muy pocos pasan, y donde muchos mueren. Ya estaba oscuro y la luna estaba saliendo. Todos estaban acostados. Perico dijo que no podíamos cursar hoy porque la migra estaba por todos lados. Gloria estaba a mi lado, sus ojos mirando la luna nueva.

“Es bien hermosa verdad?” me pregunto.

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The Road to Nowhere“Si es muy hermosa.” “Has escuchado la canción de ‘El Hijo de la Luna’?” me pre-

gunto. Al oír ese nombre mi corazón paró. Me quede viendo la luna sin decir nada.

“Tu sabes del niño que nació de la luna.” Otra vez no dije nada, trate de liberar mi mente de todos los pensamientos que vienen al mi-rar la luna. Luego Gloria empezó a cantar en voz lenta.

“Y las noches que haya luna llena, será porque el niño esté de buenas.” No pude parar las lágrimas que cayeron de mis ojos, la cara de mi mamá llena mi mente. Su voz llega a mis oídos, como cuando me la cantaba cuando era niño. “Y si el niño llora, menguara  la luna para hacerle una cuna.” terminó Gloria, limpiando mis lágrimas. “Tu eres ‘Luna’, porque lloras?” Me preguntó Gloria, tratando de hacerme reír.

“La luna es tan bella como mi mamá, pero en la mañana al des-pertar se va, como lo hizo mi mamá. Mi mamá me dejo en las manos de la luna, pero ella no es mi madre, mi madre es Maria Contreres.” le dije a Gloria. Mis lágrimas no podían parar, las estado deteniendo por muchos años. “Mi nombre no es Esteban Luna, mi nombre es Esteban Contreres, y mi mamá no está muerta" grité. Gloria no sabía qué de-cir, pero no quería que dijera algo. Quería olvidar todos estos pen-samientos en la luz de la luna.

“Tu mamá no está muerta, ella te está esperando" dijo Gloria tratando de calmarme. “Entonces porque no me habla, porque me abandonó, porque no me quiere!” grité al punto que me dolerá mi gar-ganta.

“Para de gritar escuincle, te va a escuchar la migra" me gritó Perico, y tal como dijo miramos un par de luzes venir hacia nosotros.

“Mira lo que hicisteis, todos corran" dijo Perico siendo el primero en irse. Todos se levantaron a la carrera, las luces acercándose más rápido. Gloria se levantó y me jalo la mano para levantarme. No me movía, seguía mirando la luna tratando de encontrar a mi mañana su luz.

“Esteban no los podemos quedar aquí, nos van a encontrar,” Glo-ria dijo, su voz llena de miedo. Al oír me desperté de mis pensamien-tos y me levanté. La amaré de su mano y empezamos a correr. Tenía que llegar a la frontera, no podía fallar de nuevo, no podia faltarle a mi mamá.

“Deténganse ahí, o dispararemos” dijo una voz. Moví a Gloria enfrente de mí y le dije en el oído,

“No dejes de correr, y no mires para atrás.” Seguimos corriendo tratando de encontrar el grupo. Estaba pensando en una manera de es-capar pero en ese momento sentí un dolor en el lado de mi estómago. Pare de correr dejando ir la mano de Gloria, ella se detuvo y empezó a voltearse pero la detuve.

“Recuerda que te dije, no mires para atrás, y sigue corriendo” le dije, cada palabra tomando mucho esfuerzo. Se paró por un segundo pensando pero sus pies siguieron moviendo al escuchar la segunda bala. Me arrodille, tratando de detener la sangre que no paraba. Mire la espalda de Gloria desapareciendo en la oscuridad. Mire la luna pen-sando en mi mamá por última vez.

“Mamá, si de veras estás en el cielo, por fin estaré a tu lado, y nunca te dejaré ir.” Cerré mis ojos y tomé mi último aliento, deje caer la última lágrima en la luz de la luna.

“Y si el niño llora, menguara la luna para hacerle una cuna.”

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The Road to Nowhere

Mis Decisiónes: El Fin

Alec JohnsonThe boxspring of the bed squeaked as Gloria lightly bounced on

the mattress in an attempt to calm her crying child.“Shhh, estar bien, Daisy,” she cooed at her daughter.It’s been a few months since she came to the U.S. She had met up

with her cousin Julia when she crossed the border into Texas and they began a road trip, with New York City as the destination. She stayed with her cousin and her boyfriend in her apartment in Washington Heights, Manhattan. Seven weeks after arriving she gave birth to a baby girl. She remembers fondly looking at her newborn daughter’s familiar brown eyes, knowing that she will become something won-derful. She grinned at the doctor who delivered her child, and said some newly learnt words in English, “Maybe she will be a doctor like you.”

Gloria never saw Esteban again, the boy that she became so close to still haunts the back of her mind. She hopes that wherever he is, he’s doing well, but a part of her also knows that he most likely had met a bitter end.

She has been picking up English fairly quickly thanks to Julia’s help, and is planning to start working once Daisy is no longer breast-feeding, so she can get a place of her own.

Gloria began to reflect on her experiences in America so far. She’s mostly stayed at her cousin’s apartment, taking care of Daisy, but the handful of times she left the apartment to walk around had been more than she could have ever dreamed of. The cold autumn air would hit her cheeks and she couldn’t help grinning to herself, feeling like a child again. She knew that her and Daisy’s life will be so much better off now. She passes schools across the street, wondering which one her daughter will attend. All that she went through is finally worth it. Valentin would love it here.

Valentin. Everything in her life right now is perfect, except for one thing. She missed her husband. She’d been meaning to talk to him for so long, but she was afraid. She knew she left him when they were arguing, what if he’s angry with her? What if his mother cut them off from each other? Just the thought of not talking to him any longer

made her heart break. He deserved to know about his daughter, and how beautiful she is.

She glanced over at the telephone plugged into the wall of her cousin’s bedroom, and knew that now’s the time. She sat up with Daisy in one hand and walked to the landline, her bare feet felt cold against the hardwood. She picked up the receiver and dialled the num-ber that was burnt in the back of her brain. She waited with anticipa-tion and gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles were nearly white. She felt her heart beat in her chest as the monotone ringing continued, until she heard a familiar voice.

“¿Bueno?”“¡Valentin! Soy yo!” She began to weep with joy. She hadn’t

heard her husband’s voice in a long time. Even though she knew she did the right thing coming here, she missed him. She missed him so much.

“¡Gloria! ¿Estás bien? ¿Estás en América? ¿Estás segura?” Her husband began to babble relentlessly and frantically asking a million questions per second. She could hear him begin to tear up a little on the other end of the line. His words became more and more incoherent through his sobs of relief.

“Si Valentin, estoy bien.” She began to feel herself start to cry as well. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she was reveling in the bliss of being reunited with her husband. She started to repeatedly assure him.

“Yes, I’m in America. Yes, I’m alright, I’m safe.No, Nothing happened. I’m with my cousin. I’m staying at her apartment. It’s okay.”

Valentin paused, for just a few seconds. He didn’t make a sound. “Valentin?” Gloria called out. She had a worried edge in her

voice, the lack of sound from her husband was stressful. “Please say something, Valentin!”

“What about the baby? Is he okay?” Valentin’s voice was almost as panicked as Gloria’s “Oh god, there wasn’t a miscarriage, was there? Is our child okay?” Gloria could hear his voice breaking down, and he was crying again, but this time not from happiness. The pain in his voice made her heart break.

“No, Valentin, God no! She’s perfect, she’s beautiful…” Gloria began. She went in detail for Valentin, about how she gave birth at the hospital in New York City, and about the kind nurses and doctor who

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The Road to Nowherehelped her. She told him about how she named their daughter Daisy, the name they always talked about if they had a girl.

“Wow, she sounds amazing,” Valentin said proudly.“She is, she reminds me of you… She takes after you more than

me actually, she has eyes like yours, soft, kind, loving, she’s going to be such an amazing person, like you. I just know it Valentin.”

“Gloria, now that you’re in America, you have no excuses. You have to become a writer. You’re too talented to let it go to waste, the words you create are so beautiful.” Valentin continued to wax poetic about how amazing and talented Gloria was until she stopped him mid-sentence.

“-I’ll try Valentin, I’ll try. But I have to start working too, I don’t know if I’ll have that much time for writing between that and Daisy.”

Gloria was being the voice of reason on the exterior, but deep down, she secretly let Valentin indulge her dreams and her face grew hotter from his praise, thinking about what her first book could be about.

Maybe a thriller mystery, with a brave, strong, protagonist, named Esteban, she thought to herself, lost in her thoughts about that boy she once knew. She realized that Valentin’s been talking this whole time, while she was thinking.

“I’m so sorry, honey, what did you say? I was spacing out,” Glo-ria admitted. She wants to stay honest with Valentin from now on, no matter what. Even with just small things like her being lost in thought. She didn’t want to bottle things up and fight like they did all that time ago ever again.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s fine! I asked if you have any interesting sto-ries from your time in America so far,” Valentin laughed. “Is it like the movies?”

“Well…Kind of…” Gloria began. “Not everything is picture per-fect like Breakfast at Tiffany’s or anything like that, but at night, the city lights up and it’s beautiful. And pretty much everyone speaks Spanish at Julia’s apartment!”

“Really?” Valentin asked.“Yes! I’m living with Julia and her boyfriend in Washington

Heights. Most people here are Dominican, Julia’s boyfriend is. They’ve been so helpful, I’m even learning more English from them!”

“Wow, Gloria, that’s great!” Valentin sounded so happy for her over the phone, and she wondered what on earth she did right to have someone as great as the man that was her husband in her life.

“Oh! I just thought of a story to tell you about America!” Gloria perked up.

“What is it?” Valentin perked up, Gloria could picture him back at home, on the edge of his seat, and she laughed fondly at the bitter-sweet thought. She missed him so much. She’d give anything to have him by her side here, in New York City. If he were, everything would be perfect.

“Well, Julia took me to this coffee shop, it’s a really big chain in the U.S., and they sell coffee made with beans from Honduras, it kind of felt like I was at home again when I drank it.”

Gloria reminisced on the coffee she had earlier that week, it’s amazing how such simple things reminded her of home. “I guess I’m a little homesick,” she said bashfully.

“What, why? It sounds so much better there.” Valentin asked. Gloria laughed at his expressive voice, he was so easy to read, and it was quite cute.

“It is Valentin, it is! It’s just so different though, I’m still not completely used to it, and you’re not here. I miss you.” She twirled the landline’s chord in her index finger, slightly embarrassed by her confession. Why was she acting like such a child?

“Oh, I miss you too Gloria,” he said in a softer tone, more empa-thetic, more caring. They were both silent for a few moments. They were both just glad they got to talk to each other. Gloria knew it was selfish, especially since she was the one who up and left her husband for Daisy, who wasn’t even born at the time, but she wanted to be with him, not just talk to him. She wanted to see his face, hear his voice clearly, not muffled and through a telephone’s static. She wanted to hug him, and feel his arms wrapped around her. Gloria was the first to break the silence.

“Enough about me, Valentin, how are you? You haven’t said anything about home- I mean, Honduras.”

“Actually, I’ve been working really hard lately, and I’m saving up some money right now, so maybe if I keep working, in a couple months, I can meet you in America!” Valentin seemed as if he was stalling, or avoiding something. She could tell from his voice, even over the phone, she could read him just as well as her favorite books.

“Wow, Valentin, that’s great!” Gloria said cheerfully, even though she was a little bit skeptical. “But…What about you mother? She wouldn’t want you to risk your life just so you could see me and

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The Road to Nowherethat ‘bastard child’ of mine.” Gloria knew that he couldn’t see her over the phone, but nonetheless, she rolled her eyes and made air quotes around ‘bastard child’.

“Gloria!” Valentin scolded, and she immediately started to feel bad about the words she said. It was uncalled for and she knew it. “But anyways, my mother isn’t a problem, trust me. She…Well she...” Valentin stalled. “She changed her mind!”

“Valentin, that is a lie and you know it.” Gloria deadpanned. “Please, just tell me the truth. What is it that happened with your mother?” Her voice took on a pleading tone.

“Well, Gloria, you know she was very ill when you left…and about a month or two ago…” He started getting emotional again, nearly on the verge of tears, but not quite. “She...she passed away.”

“Oh my god, Valentin, I’m so sorry.” Of course Mrs. Perez never really liked Gloria that much, and obviously Gloria returned the favor, but… She didn’t deserve to die, even though she was annoying and rude.

“It’s fine Gloria, she was old and sick, she’s in a better place now.” Valentin insisted, even though Gloria could tell that he was in pain. “And now I can focus on you and Daisy.”

Gloria sighed. “Okay, Valentin, keep saving up money. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gloria, I promise that I’ll see you soon.”Gloria hung up the phone and looked at her daughter. “You’ll

meet him one day,” she said, even though she knew that was saying it to reassure herself more than the infant. She grabbed Daisy’s stroller and opened the apartment door.

She walked while pushing along Daisy’s stroller, taking in the scenery. The sun was setting behind the buildings in Washington heights, a coffee shop here, a Chinese restaurant there. She glanced at the Manhattan bridge as the cold evening air nipped at her nose and cheeks. Her dreams were finally starting to come true. She knew it was selfish, but she wished Esteban was there with her, and Valentin too.

Regrets of her past were behind her, she had made it, and Daisy is is safe. She strided down the street, a newly found surge of confi-dence flowed through her with the crisp New York wind.

When she got back to Julia and her boyfriend’s apartment, Daisy was already fast asleep in the stroller asleep. She picked her up and sat on the beat up overstuffed corduroy couch with her daughter’s

head in her lap. She reached for a piece of paper and a pen on the cof-fee table, and decided that it was the time to do what Valentin had asked her so many times, the blue ink connected with the looseleaf paper, and she let her thoughts begin to flow.

Mi historia;Capítulo uno...

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