Page 60 of Off the Rails
Chapter 16
Sarai crept out of her hiding place just before dawn.
Whenla migrahad arrived at the last station, she’d been sitting on the ground next to the train. The passengers had started running in all different directions, because there was nowhere to go. They were in a small valley, surrounded by immigration vans. It was the perfect ambush spot. Instead of fleeing in a panic, she’d slipped between railcars and dropped to her belly. While men were beaten and women screamed in terror, she’d army-crawled along the tracks until she found what she was looking for near the front of the train. It was part garbage chute, part latrine.
She’d inspected the underside of the train during a lull the first night. She’d been searching for a safe place to sleep or an emergency escape hatch. The cargo hulls offered no such luxuries. This freight train was made of impenetrable metal boxes with ribbed sides. They were locked up tight. The only viable option was crawling through garbage.
She held her breath as she shimmied through the cramped, foul space. It smelled like urine and spoiled food, and the sides were slick with some kind of nasty mess. If she’d been any bigger, she wouldn’t have fit. If she’d been any smaller, she’d have slid right back out. She grimaced at the thought of what might rain down on her while she hid.
Luckily there was another option. When she surfaced inside the railcar, she found a second trash bin right next to the chute. She crawled out the lid and scurried into the bin. It appeared to be a storage space for cardboard boxes and other recyclables. There was more room here, and she felt safer from discovery, but it was hardly clean or comfortable. Sharp edges poked her at every angle. The odor of rodent droppings burned her nostrils. She stayed there for the next twelve hours.
The train started up again, rushing over the tracks. A rickety, rusted metal grate stood between her body and the spinning wheels. She prayed the hinges wouldn’t come loose from her extra weight. Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. It was the worst night of her life in a series of worst nights. Each one topped the next. What would tomorrow bring, plague and pestilence? She was in the right place for it, buried in trash.
She didn’t move when the train stopped, for fear that she’d be discovered. She heard a crew member tinkering around in the cab. Time slipped by, interminable. She wondered ifla migrawould invade every camp from here to the border.
Were they looking for her?
She reached for the empty space on her neck, where her butterfly pendant used to rest. Her cellphone was out of power, so she didn’t bother looking for her father’s reply. If anyone deserved the plague, it was him. He was the reason she was here, huddled with rats and stinking of garbage. He was the reason she’d been able to stay alive so far, too, but it was difficult to appreciate his life lessons at the moment. What kind of man taught his twelve-year-old daughter how to maim an attacker, handle automatic weapons, and evade police?
A seriously fucked-up one.
When she couldn’t stand the cramped space any longer, she climbed out and looked around. The railcar had no exit, other than a door leading to the conductor’s cab. She couldn’t go that way. She had to leave the same way she came in.
Shuddering with disgust, she reentered the trash chute. It felt like she was being pushed out of a rotten womb, evacuated from the bowels of La Bestia.
Nasssty.
When she dropped down to the tracks, she contemplated rolling around in the dirt to mask the stench of her hair and clothes. It probably wouldn’t help, so she ventured out into the dim morning. She had no idea where they were. Another camp, another cargo station, another city. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were near the coast. She detected a balmy sea breeze and a distinctive fish-salt smell.
Or it might just beher.
She hadn’t been to the ocean in years. Not since her mother had died. They’d taken a weekend trip to Acapulco the summer before she died. Sarai still remembered her mother’s vibrant yellow swimsuit, stylish but demure. Her father had smiled a lot on that trip. He wasn’t handsome when he smiled, or any other time, but women had smiled back at him. Sarai had been on the cusp of puberty, just beginning to notice such things. She supposed that these women saw a man with a beautiful wife and imagined he was someone important.
He wasn’t. He was just another dark-facedindio,like her grandmother had always said. He’d been a common field-worker, unworthy of the girl he’d stolen. Her mother had never regretted her decision to run away with him, as far as Sarai knew. Of course, she hadn’t known that his reckless ambition would be the death of her.
Sarai walked in the shadows along the train, her footsteps silent. There were some tents and shanties on the other side of the tracks, and men sleeping on the ground at regular intervals. She slipped past the slumbering passengers, drawn by the sound of moving water.
Less than a hundred yards from the station, at the base of a gentle slope, there was a small river. Trees lined the muddy bank. Several rows of apartment buildings blocked her view to the west, but she imagined the water led straight to the ocean. It was murky blue-green, and probably not too polluted, if they were in an area with tourist beaches. Whatever contaminants the water held were nothing compared to the mess in her hair and clothes.
She glanced around for onlookers and saw no one. In the grainy predawn light, she was alone. Decision made, she ducked behind a tree to remove her backpack. Her hooded sweatshirt came off next. The thick fabric disguised her figure, but it was stiflingly hot and stinky. She wanted to burn it. Setting the garment aside, she stepped out of her boots and heavy jeans. Then she waded into the river in her tank top and underwear.
The water was cool and refreshing. After days of grueling travel and filthy conditions, nonstop dust and sweat and heat, it felt like heaven against her skin. She submerged at once, scrubbing her hair and face. The elastic band she’d wrapped around her breasts seemed unbearable now. She peeled it away and almost laughed in relief at the feeling of total freedom.
Her mother had been a reluctant swimmer. Sarai had forgotten about that. Some of her memories had faded along with the photographs. She was struck by a sudden recollection of her father carrying her mother into the waves, kicking and squealing.
The crunch of pebbles under feet snapped her out of her reverie. She turned to see a tall figure approaching the trees where her pile of clothes lay.
Demonios. She hadn’t been paying attention to the shoreline. Entering the river had been careless. Lingering here, even more so. It was too late to jump out of the water and run to her clothes. He would see her in her panties and know she was a girl. She hunkered down as low as possible, her nose barely above the surface.
The boy at the river’s edge didn’t see her in the gloom. He looked like a teenager, all knees and elbows. He stopped and removed his T-shirt, tossing it aside. Then he kicked off his sneakers, unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants.
She didn’t want to stare, but she was afraid to move. She was also struck by how confident and careless he seemed. He didn’t appear concerned about standing there in his baggy boxer shorts, skinny legs showing. There was no fear of discovery, no need to hurry. It dawned on her that this was probably a normal way for a boy to behave. She marveled at the difference. Having gone to an all-girls school for five years, she had no experience with the opposite sex.
Water lapped up her nose, making her sputter.
“Holy fuck,” he said. “I thought you were acocodrilo.”
She looked around in a panic, wondering if there were any crocodiles.
