Defiant (an Ell Donsaii story #9) (26 page)

The woman’s display lit green and she turned to pick up several stacks of chips. When she pushed them through to Ell, Ell had to ask her the relative value of the various types. 

Ell had no desire to gamble so she used a chip to buy a drink at the bar and watched until the lady in the cash cage got her break. Ell returned to the cage. “I’d like to cash these chips. Can you give me pesos?”

The lady shrugged, “Mexican, yes. Colombian, no.”

“Mexican please.”

With a wad of dollars in one pocket and a wad of pesos in another, Ell headed for the beach.

Ell ate her third egg sandwich for a mid-morning snack. Lunch and dinner she bought on the beach while watching some energetic beach volleyball. One of the guys flirted with her and tried to get her to play on his team, but as a married, pregnant lady, she passed.

It was tempting though. It had been a lot of years since she’d played and looked like a lot of fun.

Later that night she had Allan bring the hoverbike down to the beach. Once Allan told her it was overhead, she checked both ways and had Allan bring it down to land on a deserted sidewalk. Taking out and putting on her Kevlar suit she climbed aboard. Once up in the air about twenty feet, she slid out over the sea and put on her helmet. She had Allan bring the older hoverbike out of its hiding place to follow a couple of miles behind her and set out on a four hundred mile flight to the Mexican coast north of Cancun.

Before morning Ell landed near Merida at the northern end of the Yucatan Peninsula, hiding her hoverbikes in the brush of some overgrown lots. She hiked in to have breakfast and spent the day exploring the city and practicing her Spanish with real Latin American speakers.

The next night she lifted off again for Matamoros on the Gulf coast of Mexico, across the border from the Texas city of Brownsville.

In Matamoros she parked the hoverbikes in an overgrown lot that actually was in the city a ways rather than out at the border. In the morning she found a restaurant in a poor neighborhood and set out to exercise her Spanish. “I want to cross the border to America,” she said in Spanish to the woman who brought her food.

The woman stared at her suspiciously then shrugged. “It is very difficult nowadays.” She turned to go back to the kitchen.

“Do you know someone who can help?” Ell said to her retreating back. “I can pay.”

The woman hesitated a moment, then continued to the kitchen.

As Ell ate she wondered about this plan of hers.
I can fly across the border! Why not just cross the border;
then
try to solve the ID problem?
The sticking point was that she had no idea how to find someone to help with an ID in America. She couldn’t just google it after all.

Ell could work up an ID chip. A chip that would provide her a name, birthdate, and provide pictures and fingerprints and DNA information as well as an address. The problem would be that computers that checked ID chips then looked in databases to confirm that an individual with those characteristics actually existed. Somehow, illegal aliens were connected to people able to enter such data into the system so that when a chip was read, and checked against a database the database would confirm the existence of the individual. Ell had no idea how they did that little bit of magic, so she needed help.

She somehow felt that it would be much easier to find people who arranged IDs by getting in touch with a “coyote.” Coyote was the Mexican term for someone who made a living helping migrants cross the border. They often had a significant organization that worked together to transport people and get them IDs. Ell thought she could find those people starting in Mexico just by asking around, but wasn’t sure how she’d go about finding just the ID piece starting in the States.

Besides, it was difficult to do
anything
in America without ID.

Ell ate her chorizo con huevos while pondering other ways to look for a coyote here in Mexico. She’d nearly finished when a burly Mexican seated himself in the other side of her booth.

He stared at her for a moment then said, “He oído que quiere ir a Estados Unidos (I hear you want to go to America).”

Ell nodded.

“And you’ll pay for information?”

Ell nodded again.

“A hundred pesos.”

It wasn’t much. Ell reached into her pocket and pulled out her fold of Mexican money. Holding it below the table top she thumbed through to peel out a hundred peso note and push it across the table to him.

He shook his head. “You don’t want to cross near Matamoros. The patrol, it’s very bad here. When I cross, I first take the bus to Ojinaga.” He lifted his chin, “It’s a long ride, but it is easier to cross there in the desert. There is a coyote there, ‘Tecate.’ Ask around for him, he’s the best. What’s your name?”

For a second Ell panicked, having a mental block on the Spanish name she’d chosen for herself, then it came to her. “Elsa Gardon.”

The man said, “Tell Tecate that Hector in Matamoros sent you; I’ll send him a message so he’ll be expecting you.” Hector flashed a smile, then got up and headed back into the kitchen area.

Since she didn’t want to fly until nightfall, Ell wandered around Matamoros. She asked several others and repeatedly received the advice that she shouldn’t try to cross the border in that region. Surprised that no one used small boats to bypass the border out in the Gulf, she asked about it. Apparently, small boats were found easily by the Border Patrol using radar. All of them were stopped and searched.

More importantly than the recommendation to go elsewhere, no one suggested a coyote or a way to get ID in Matamoros.

That evening she climbed on the hoverbike for a flight to Ojinaga.

***

Walking the streets of Ojinaga the next day, Ell saw a group of young Mexicans who looked like they might be trying to cross the border. They had backpacks, durable shoes and jackets tied around their waists, though the days were warm enough. Ell smiled at a young woman with the group, “I’m trying to cross the border. Do you know a coyote called Tecate?”

The girl’s eyes widened but she shook her head no.

The young man next to her said, “Ask at the Pemex.” He pointed with his chin.

The girl glanced at the man, then back at Ell. She shook her head again, using only a tiny motion, as if she didn’t want people to see.

Ell’s eyes narrowed as she tried to parse the meaning of this strange conversation. She had a feeling that the young woman was trying to warn her, or perhaps divert business away from Tecate? She looked back and forth at the two for a moment, then shrugged, turned and started toward the Pemex sign a few blocks away.

The Pemex proved to be a gas station, selling gasoline, diesel, natural gas, hydrogen and fast charges for automobiles. Even in Mexico, which hadn’t been converting to ports at anything like the rate it had been happening in the U.S., the station had the look of despair you might expect of an industry on its way out.

Ell found saw a group of people that looked like they might be waiting to cross the border sitting outside the Pemex. They also had backpacks, jackets and sturdy clothing. Deciding that she’d better get a jacket, Ell entered the convenience store part of the station. Sure enough they had backpacks and jackets for sale inside. Already having a backpack, Ell got a jacket, a water bottle and three burritos to put in the backpack. Going back outside eating one of the burritos, she looked over the group. It had seven women and two men.

And a pretty little girl Ell realized… The child surprised Ell at first, but after a moment’s thought she realized that, of course, families must
sometimes
cross with their children. Even though the two men sat far from the child, she wondered if one of the men was the girl’s father.

The little girl had been staring at Ell so Ell smiled and said, “Hola.”

The girl’s eyes dropped, but she did mumble, “Hola,” in return. 

Ell spoke to the group in general, “I’m looking for a coyote named Tecate. Are you waiting for him?”

Several of them nodded, though Ell got the impression they weren’t happy about it. She wondered about what was going on. Wasn’t Tecate a good coyote like Hector had told her? If he didn’t have a good reputation, why were these people going with him, rather than with a different coyote?

Ell glanced around, most of the little group were sitting on the ground leaning back against the Pemex building. The biggest space was next to the little girl so Ell sat down next to her. Smiling at her, she said “My name’s Elsa Gardon, what’s yours?”

The girl smiled shyly back at Ell, but hugged the arm of the woman she sat next to and said nothing. The woman smiled at Ell over her head, “Her name is Elsa too. Elsa Fuentes.”

As Ell took another bite of her burrito, the little girl turned her face up to her mother, “Mama, I’m
hungry
!” she said plaintively.

Her mother hugged her closer. “I know Elsa, but I don’t think I have enough money to pay Tecate. We’ve got to wait until he comes and I find out how much it’s going to cost to go to El Norte.”

Ell’s mouthful of burrito suddenly lost its taste as she realized the desperation that this mother and child must feel. She glanced at the other people in the group and wondered how many of them might also be hungry. Pulling her backpack around and placing it between her knees, she reached in and pulled out one of her other burritos. “I’ve got an extra burrito,” she said, holding it out to little Elsa.

The girl turned to look questioningly up at her mother.

A tear welled up in the young mother’s eye, “Go ahead Elsa,” she said to her daughter. She looked up at Ell, “Muchas gracias,” she said, sounding a little choked. “My name is Lucia.”

Elsa turned and shyly took the burrito. “Gracias,” she said, twisting the burrito in half and passing one half to her mother.

They wolfed the burrito down as if they hadn’t eaten for quite a while. Ell asked, “Where are you from?”

Lucia said, “San Pedro. It is far to the south.” She glanced at Ell, “Well maybe not for you. Where are you from?”

“Nicaragua. It is farther I think, no?” Ell didn’t want to appear to be too knowledgeable.

“Oh yes. San Pedro is in Mexico.”

“Where do you hope to go?”

Little Elsa said, “We’re going to Abilene, Texas… My papa’s hurt and we’re going there to take care of him.”

Ell glanced back up at Lucia who nodded, eyes brimming with tears once again.

While Ell tried to think what to say a reedy man’s voice said, “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Tecate. Do all of you want to go to El Norte?”

The group gathered around Tecate, who Ell instinctively disliked. When he told them that he wanted 30,000 pesos to take them across the border Ell heard Lucia gasp beside her.

Lucia said, “I came here to the Pemex because I heard you were cheaper! I talked to another coyote who only charges 23,000!”

Tecate laughed, “That’d be Roberto.” He tsked, “Roberto’s no good. His last group
and
the group three crossings before that, they were both caught by the Border Patrol.” He paused and looked around the group, “
Roberto
himself always gets away though.” Tecate chuckled “23,000 is
far
too much for a trip with someone whose migrants get caught much of the time.”

Lucia plaintively said, “But we don’t
have
30,000!”

Tecate turned to her, “Chica, if you’re part of a ‘we,’ you’d need 60,000 pesos.”

“No! The other is Elsa!” Lucia put an arm around her daughter, “Just a little girl, I’ll carry her, she doesn’t count.”

Tecate snorted, “A child! They’re slow. I charge
more
, not less for children.”

“Nooo,” Lucia moaned. “I’ll carry her. She won’t slow us down. Please! I have to get to my husband in Abilene. He’s been hurt and we’re going there to take care of him. Please?” Lucia plucked at Tecate’s sleeve, “I’ll pay you back…”

The pleading in Lucia’s eyes tugged at Ell’s heartstrings.

Tecate said, “I can reduce your fees,” he looked around at the group, then back to Lucia, “by 10,000 pesos, but you must work for my bosses in Texas for a month when you get to Texas. Two months for 20,000 pesos.”

One of the other women said, “I can make much more than 10,000 pesos a month in America. Let me pay you back instead.” She dropped her eyes, “I don’t want to work for the syndicate.”

The migrants began trying to wheedle for different deals from Tecate, though he stood resolutely shaking his head. An icy sensation prickled down Ell’s back as she listened distantly. She’d heard of coyotes who exploited their transportees. Some collected the migrants money then simply lost them somewhere in the desert. Such migrants frequently died. Some migrants were promised far more help than they received for the money they paid. Some were forced into a form of debt servitude, assessed additional charges by their employers which resulted in their falling farther and farther in debt. Women could find themselves forced into prostitution.

Ell turned to walk away, thinking that she should find a different coyote. But then she saw little Elsa staring at her. Elsa looked frightened as she clung to her distraught mother.

After a long pause, Ell returned to the group and listened while Lucia bargained away her freedom…

***

Bouncing along in the back of a pickup, heading for their crossing of the Rio Grande about forty minutes outside of Ojinaga, Ell wondered sadly whether Lucia had any idea how many months of servitude it would actually take to pay off her debt to Tecate. Ell had paid the full 30,000 pesos for her own border crossing and tried to think of a way to pay for Elsa and Lucia’s crossing without leaving everyone wondering just why she was crossing to El Norte when she had so much money.

Ell had developed a healthy dislike of Tecate and by extension, of Hector from Matamoros who had referred her to him. She suspected that Hector hoped to get some kind of kickback from Tecate. She also had a sick feeling that the high proportion of young women in Tecate’s group had something to do with an underground sex industry that he provided workers for.