I hear footsteps. I expect it to be another one of the Ashé Ryders, checking in. When they do, they ask me if I’m ready to be untied. I usually respond with curses.
“Leave me alone,” I yell. My voice hurts. I’m thirsty. No water and food for who knows how long.
Truck steps in front of the cot. She takes a seat at the edge. “Hey,” she says. Her expression is serious.
I try to loosen the binds that keep me fixed to the bed. They are secured tight. Truck doesn’t lift a finger to help. Punishment, for screwing everything. Or maybe she’s made a deal with Zentrica. My body for a permanent stay in the Ashé Ryders’ garden party? Naw. I can see Smiley doing that or maybe Shi. Not Truck. She is not a joiner. I stop trying to break free.
“What?” I ask. She shrugs. This won’t be easy. I must play nice until Truck decides to say what she has come here to say. Payback for my wrongdoings.
“So, I take it you’re the leader of the LMCs now?” I say.
Instead of loosening my bonds, Truck tightens them. My fingertips start to go numb. I won’t be able to keep this up for much longer.
“I never pictured you for a rat. The salad they’re serving must have potent herbs in it for you to buy into this neat story.” My hands are falling asleep. A slow burning sensation covers my arm.
“I can’t take these straps for much longer!” My neck is the only body part I can move.
“You’re an idiot,” Truck says after a delay. “Nice work, though. What were you planning to do next? Was that a preview earlier, an opening act to the main event, or was it all part of this fun trip? Because believe me, it’s been epic so far.”
She loosens the binds. I feel an overwhelming urge to cry. I concentrate on my wrists, rubbing the rope burns. If I do so, I can push back on this hurt.
Truck pulls my hand toward her and rubs the red marks on my wrists, hard. I don’t complain. We sit in silence. I don’t know how to make amends for what I’ve done to her and the LMCs.
“What were we meant to do here?” she asks.
“What I said back in Mega City still holds true. We gather information and relay it to Déesse.”
“But . . . ,” she says. “Don’t you think Déesse will consider you an enemy if your own blood is the leader of the Ryders?”
“I’m sticking to the mission. My loyalty stays forever with Mega. They raised me. Not my sister. Not the Ashé Ryders.”
Truck shakes her head. “Then let me finish her,” she says. “She’s hurt you. Imagine how grateful Déesse will be. Off the leader of the Ashé Ryders. From what I’ve seen, it should be easy.”
I don’t know what to say. What Truck offers seems an easy enough solution. I hesitate, which is evidence Zentrica has more of a hold than I can admit. By saying yes to Truck I will cross a line. How different would that make us from the Deadly Venoms? They killed Manos Dura and got away with it. They did it simply to prove a point. Can I do the same with my own blood? Am I that heartless?
“The LMCs aren’t punks,” she says. “Nena suffers because you’re too afraid. Talk to me. Dammit. Your silence has jeopardized the LMCs for too long.”
I can’t keep the tears from streaming down no matter how hard I try. Seeing how disappointed Truck is with me is too much. I’m too wrapped up in feelings I can’t explain. A new revelation hits me hard. Truck is wrong. I am a punk.
“Zentrica is my sister. I can’t let you hurt her,” I say. “I can’t.”
Truck chews on my admission. Lets it sink in. She doesn’t let go of my hand. I’m brought back to the first time I met Truck. Our friendship wasn’t instant. We were forced together, a predicament similar to the one we are in now.
I walked inside the training camp scared out of my mind. Mami was dead. My sister and father gone. I can remember the Rompe Cocos holding court in a spacious room. They were the crew leading the training camps at the time. I was placed next to a skinny girl who sniffled back tears. I paid her no mind and sidled closer to a bigger girl to my right. That was my first mistake.
“Move!” the big girl boomed. Then she shoved me with such force I landed right on top of the skinny girl. Kids laughed their heads off. I couldn’t let what she did stick.
Hit first and hit hard. It’s what I did to the big girl. I ran on top of her and threw blow upon blow until she was bleeding through her nose. The skinny girl cried next to her, and I lunged for her, too.
We were led to the stage. Blood spilled from the big girl’s nose. My shirt was ripped.
“What’s your names, young guns?” asked the Rompe Coco.
“Nalah,” I said. I tried to steady my breathing.
“Cyn,” the skinny girl said.
“Soledad,” the big girl said.
“From now on, you are going to be called Baby Rocka and you’ll be Truck,” she says. “As for you, skinny shit, you’re going to be Flaca Nada, because you played bystander while Baby Rocka fought. Now sit down and shut up.”
I went to sit farthest away from the newly anointed Truck.
“No, you shit. You three are going to be partners. Sit your ass right next to her.”
The Rompe Cocos went over the rules of the camp. When we were meant to wake up (at dawn), the exercise (every day for eight hours), and our meals (two meals a day). Fridays would be fight nights, where the kids would prove their worth. I listened as best I could. It was hard to concentrate with Truck muttering threats throughout the whole speech.
When they told us we would be sleeping right next to each other on the floor, the intimidation continued. However, it was Flaca Nada who proved to be our biggest problem. My eyes were heavy and I wanted to sleep. Flaca lay there whimpering, crying for her mother.
“I want to go home,” she said.
Truck hushed her with a fist in the mouth. Any noise and we would get in trouble.
“Shut it or we’re going to get kicked out,” I pleaded with her. Flaca couldn’t stop sobbing.
“I want to go home,” she continued. Her voice was so desperate. I felt it too. I wanted to give in to the feeling of hopelessness.
“Stupid. Shut your mouth,” Truck said. “This is your home now. Close your eyes before I poke them.”
Then Truck started to gently caress Flaca’s forehead, back and forth. No one else could see her doing it. But I could. Truck continued until Flaca’s eyes weighed down, until she gave in to the exhaustion. With Truck’s tenderness, Flaca slept nestled between us.
“What are you looking at?” Truck hissed. I rolled my eyes. We didn’t sleep much. I guess we were both nervous Flaca would wake again.
We did what we could to keep Flaca from falling apart. There wasn’t enough time. Her days were numbered and we knew it. It came on Friday, the day of the practice throwdown.
“You two, fight each other.”
I would beat Truck in a heartbeat. Kick her ass good. No, Flaca had to battle Truck.
“Don’t hold back,” I yelled. Flaca didn’t know what to do. She tried to punch Truck. Landed a pathetic right on Truck’s bulge. The hits were brutal, and everyone cheered. I watched. Every blow tore me up, made me harder, too.
One solid jab sent Flaca flying across the stage. No one went to help her, to see if she was okay. Tears streamed down Truck’s round cheeks. I didn’t cry. I held the knot in.
“How do you feel about your sister? She doesn’t have enough respect to defend herself. Finish her.”
Truck shook her head.
“You better finish that girl, or I’ll finish you.”
The trainer strolled over to Truck, her hands balled into fists. Before she reached Truck, I jumped in front.
“No,” I yelled.
I couldn’t see Truck or Flaca getting beat anymore. I couldn’t let that happen.
“No?” The trainer laughed. “Baby Rocka thinks she’s got a say. I’ll show you what’s up.”
The trainer pulled back her fist and slammed it across my face. It was lights out. I found out later Truck got beat too. As for
Flaca, they dumped her outside. I don’t know what became of her. I never saw her again.
Things changed between me and Truck. We survived the training camp and found others to make Las Mal Criadas. I shed the name Baby Rocka and became Chief Rocka. We clawed our way through Mega City.
“Ever since we met at the training camp, you’ve shown me underneath the fists and the anger, there is also heart,” I say. “I haven’t leaned on you as much as I should have. I thought a real leader must do it alone. I was wrong. You’re my ride or die. From now on, I will follow your lead as much as you follow mine.”
“What about Zentrica? What about your sister?”
“She will never have my back,” I say. “She hasn’t been through what we’ve been through.”
She squeezes my hand. The tears continue to flow.
“Ugly,” she says. “What do we do now?”
“Zentrica is letting us go. It’s what she said, and I believe her. We go back to Mega and give Déesse the lowdown,” I say. “First, there are a couple of bohios the Ashé Ryders seem to guard. Have you noticed?”
Truck raises her eyebrow. “Definitely,” she says. “I overheard one of them say they’ll need to expand their storage. Weapons, perhaps?”
I take the glass of water she offers, grateful she doesn’t mention anything about my emotions.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m not buying this peaceful hype they keep dishing. It has to be a front.”
“Did you see how the men talk? I almost clocked that old man.”
I smile. “I’m surprised it didn’t go down. They are following the old ways. Déesse always says men will be our downfall. The Ashé Ryders are stupid.”
My father is in this camp. I can’t wrap my head around it. Zentrica said they had to leave Mega City. I would bet everything it was my father’s idea to bail on the family. Only a man would be so cruel. I hope I never run into him.
“Apparently my father is alive. Can you believe it?”
“For real? The hell. This was a bullshit family reunion. Have you seen him yet? Was it the old man at the bath?”
“No. I don’t think so. Who cares? You think I want to listen to a man who calls himself my father? It’s a meaningless title. He can never redeem himself for what he did to Mami.”
“And to you,” Truck says.
Truck is the only girl born in a family of three boys. Her father and brothers work at the sueño factories. Her mother tends their station. Truck sees them once a month, bearing gifts. Food. Items she’s found along the way. This is why Truck loves the papis so much. She misses her brothers and the way things used to be before she had to enter the camp.
I try to imagine how different my circumstances would have been if my father had stuck to the plan and worked at the sueño factories. For starters, I would not be in this bohio dealing with a hateful sister. Why ruin a good thing? Mega is not an easy city. There are ways to make it great. Work hard. Keep to your script. You move up. I can attest to that. When I return to my city, I’ll be rewarded for the many years of grinding.
“Let’s gather the others and find what the Ashé Ryders are hiding.”
The urgency to leave burns. If the Ashés try to enter Mega City, the whole city will rain on them. I may not be the one leading the charge, but I’ll definitely be the one igniting the spark.
“So. Are you happy you found her?” Truck asks.
“No. She should have left me alone in Mega City,” I say. “This mistake she will regret forever.”
My life will be back to normal. Distance is what I need—and the LMCs beside me.
CHAPTER 21
SET IT OFF
As promised, our clothes are returned washed. As I slip on my pants and jacket I feel energized. The homegrown threads the Ashé Ryders wear are too thin. They lack protection. I dig through my pockets and find the chain I ripped off of Zentrica right next to the other azabache. Funny how the Ashé Ryders allowed me to keep these souvenirs. Their honor system is deceiving. Zentrica wants me to remember this place. How can I ever forget?
“You know the section you are patrolling, right?” I ask. Shi and Smiley nod. “Good. Walk the camp as if you are breaking night. Eyes alert. If what you see seems off or questionable, commit it to memory. Stick to your gut.”
I notice how much Shi and Smiley have grown close on this trip. They were always good friends. Now they sleep beside each other. Their relationship has shifted to a more intimate one. Will this change once we are in Mega City? I worry about that. Smiley is a notorious player. Maybe Shi keeps her grounded. My concern is how it might affect the LMC dynamic. A close relationship can become an obstacle. I hope it doesn’t. Perhaps their connection is only temporary.
“I will go south and follow the trail leading toward the waterfalls,” Truck says. “I’m not sure how far I will get. Let’s meet back here before the sun goes down.”
“Be careful.”
We don’t have tronics or knives. They also took our Codigos. We must rely on our wits. There are only a few hours left to see what the Ashé Ryders are doing. It’s not enough time. Two days to get back to Mega City includes bailing Nena out of the Gurl Gunnas. If we delay any longer, Déesse will surely think we’ve crossed over. Tonight we leave, no matter what.
There are no Ashé Ryders by our bohio. The time is right to explore. We bounce in opposite directions.
A meal is being prepared by the communal eating space. The men and women are jovial. More greens being tossed into a big pot. The smell is enticing. I won’t find much by this area. I set my eye on the bohios with Ashé Ryders in front of them.
“Hey, you,” one of the cooks calls to me. “Hey, LMC. Chief Rocka.”
When she says my name, she laughs. As if Zentrica is a better name. Jokes. I stop because I don’t want to bring any more attention to myself.
“Do you want to give it a try?” the woman asks. “He says the sancocho is too bland. I think his tongue is broken.”
The man has short gray hair and wears the typical Ashé Ryder outfit. The woman playfully rolls her eyes at him.
“Sure.” I haven’t eaten since my early-morning outburst. This time I will not pass on a meal. The stew is nice and hot. There are large vegetables and potatoes. Our food pellets can’t compare.
“Do you want to try this?” I pull out a food pellet. The pellets are made of basic ingredients meant to sustain a person. The woman eyes the pellet with suspicion. I can see a couple of Ashé Ryders walking together toward one of the guarded bohios. The man shakes his head. He won’t try it. Spineless.
“What does it taste like?” the woman asks.
“It doesn’t have any flavor. There’s enough energy in there to keep me going for a few hours.”
The woman takes a nibble on the pellet, chews a couple of times, and then spits it out. Unbelievable. The man continues to stir the sancocho.
“There’s no way you can eat that without making yourself sick,” she says. “Want more soup? This will give you energy, not some manufactured gunk.”
“No thanks.” The soup has more flavor than the pellet. However, not everyone would be able to afford such a luxurious meal. Toilers need to work. Food pellets get the job done. I leave the two alone and head in the direction of the soldiers.
The Ashé Ryders greet the two already stationed at the entrance and then enter the bohio. I sneak around the back to get a closer look. Inside there are rows of kids siting at long tables. The soldiers distribute glasses of water with brushes in them.
The children are different ages. Boys and girls. An Ashé in the front of the bohio talks about colors. How to blend two colors to make a different one. Why would the Ashé Ryders guard this room? They are only teaching them how to paint. What makes what they are doing such a dangerous act?
“Protecting their privacy is important.”
I turn around to find Graciela. She wears a dress. Her long hair is loosely framing her thin face. No makeup. I walk away. She follows.
“O
n Tuesdays we teach them dance. Saturday is music. Mostly percussion instruments,” she says. “I will start leading the vocal classes soon.”
I don’t care about the kids’ schedule.
“Were you sent to make sure I stay on the right path?”
“No. No one sent me. I saw you and thought you might want a proper tour,” she says. “Don’t you want to see what we’re doing here?”
“Fine,” I say. I am positive this is Zentrica’s doing.
I stop. “So, Miguel was a way to enter Mega City without being detected. Correct?”
I have so many questions. With her standing before me I find myself timid, unsure on how to proceed.
“I knew if I came as Graciela, everyone would recognize me. As Miguel, I was invisible as so many toilers are in that city,” she says. “Who am I? I am Graciela and Miguel. Mega City would never allow for such duality. Today I’m Graciela. You can call me that.”
“Fine,” I say. “Graciela it is.”
She leads me toward another bohio. There is only one Ashé Ryder guarding it. Graciela walks in and asks me to join her. Inside, there are older women who are in class. They are being taught how to read.
“Ay, Graciela. Sing us the alphabet,” one of them teases her. “It will help us.”
Graciela chides them for not paying attention. We soon exit.
“The Ashé Ryders are teaching kids and old people how to read and sing. Mega City should be trembling from fear.” I’m not impressed. This is fluff. I want her to show me where they are making their moves. I’ll ditch her soon enough.
“Have you ever wondered why books are only available in the mercados and why they are so rare? It wasn’t always the case,” she says. “The Codigos you own were generously provided to you by Déesse. The archives in them are limited to what Déesse wants you to know. Mostly propaganda.”
“This innocent walk of ours is yet another opportunity for you to lay on me your own propaganda on how the Ashé Ryders are better. I’m not buying it. Definitely not buying these children learning watercolors. It won’t help them when you decide to roll into Mega City. Our children will eat them up.”
Dealing in Dreams Page 17