A Short Story : The Story Of The Story?

He sat down and allowed himself a short pull from the waterbag. He scanned the desert, looked up at the sun, which was now sliding down the far quadrant of the sky. He got up, removed his gloves from his belt, and began to pull devil-grass for his own fire, which he laid over the ashes the man in black had left. He found the irony, like the romance of his thirst, bitterly appealing.

Paul's only chance, it seemed was to steal the money he needed and live off of it for as long as he could.

“I stopped him,” she said, staring at a place where the fence used to be. “I took and put my babies in a place where they’d be safe.”

“Well- you walked here right? so you left a trail of footsteps from your house leading straight to my shack, they will find us within hours.”

“That’s fine, just help me!” I yell. “Help him up so I can pull the fencing closer to me,” I tell her. She does as I told her and I start hitting the cement on the wire of the fencing, hoping it’ll bust through.

"You two were trying to cross border, walked right into that Imperial ambush." the man went on.

Without water there were no crops, without crops there are no job opportunities, without a job Miguel was not going to be able to sustain economically his family. He made the decision to come to the US to work in any job he could find. Luckily, Miguel’s father had arranged him a green card years before that Miguel had never used before. He took the hardest decision which was to leave his pregnant wife and come to the United States in order to work.

“Ladeee, listen.” He held her firmly. “Dese ees not Estados Unidos. Ju don’t understand. Dey arrest ju.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and led her down towards the street.

“Well I mean,” he looked around. Everything seemed safe. Maybe he could just go park up the street and watch the house. He didn’t mind the idea of that. “Listen, I have a letter that I need you to hold onto, keep it near you at all times. If he comes for you, I want you to give it to him; everything will be fine, just remember that.”

“You promised me you’d never cross the fence. What do you trade, anyway?” she demands.

*Plane lands* 2pm in the windy, cold Panama City Airport. Her brother Armando Gomez greets her with the widest simile on his face. “Mi hermana, al fin.” They head through the airport catching up and finally reach the vehicle which would take them to a friends house. After the longest three days she’s ever experienced, they hand her a fake passport and a flight ticket to DF, Mexico. 1pm DF, Mexico where she headed to the hotel “Lepanto” by one of the coyotes when they hid her for four days. Tears rolling down her face, not being able to talk to

I slowly nodded my head partially regretting it. “Well, there is an armed gunman walking around the area.”

“How are you going to do that? Don’t you know how heavily guarded that place is?”

After a long flight, Spencer was relieved to unclip his seatbelt and stretch his confined body. A warm blast of air hit him as soon as he got off the small propeller plane. Spencer was finally in Mexico for the first time in his life. Spencer’s eyes instantly fixed on a small airport shop. In front of the shop was a wire rack holding hundreds of copies of the daily news papers.On the front cover every headline was talking about the war and what is meant for the people’s lives who lived in Mexico.

Could it be that things were working out after all? Paul wondered. Maybe so—and maybe not. Because they still had no idea what they were doing. But now at least they were in Mexico, which was a relief. They started walking. They passed a couple of towns that looked like they were out of the third world. Unpaved streets. No sewers. A lone telephone pole. Mangy dogs scampering about.