Muerte Con Carne

by McKenzie, Shane

  “You know. You know what this means to me. You never wanted to help me, did you? It was all part of your plan. For this shit. To fucking propose to me! I’m not marrying you, Felix!”

  That got him to his feet. “My plan? This whole fucking thing is your plan! If it was up to me, we wouldn’t fucking be here right now.” He threw the ring box. “I admit it, I’m here because I care about you. Because I love you! This whole plan is insane, and if you don’t see that, then you’re fucking insane too. You’re coming out here to risk your freedom, your life, for some fucking people you don’t know? Some faceless fucking wetbacks?”

  She snarled at him, spoke through her teeth. “I fucking hate you so much right now.” She tugged on the ring but it wouldn’t give. “Leave. I don’t need you and I don’t need your help. Get the fuck out of here.”

  “No. You can hate me all you want, but I won’t let you get killed. I know you don’t understand that because you have no fucking heart, but I still care about you.”

  “There’s not a goddamn thing you can do to stop me. Nothing. I’m doing this, I have to do this. You don’t mean shit compared to this. Understand that?”

  Felix could barely breathe, and he didn’t try and stop the tears as they rolled down and mixed with the sweat on his face. Watching Marta try and tear the ring off her finger killed him.

  “Marta…please don’t do this. Okay, you don’t want to marry me. I can’t change that. But don’t…don’t hate me. I…I just…”

  “I shouldn’t have brought you here. That was my mistake. This is way bigger than your feelings…it’s for my parents…it’s…get this fucking ring off me!” She stomped her feet and pulled, growling, but the ring wouldn’t budge.

  Felix couldn’t believe this was happening. He hadn’t been certain she would accept, but she was losing it. He had never seen her more angry, and it scared him. I’ve lost her. She hates my guts now and I’ve lost her forever.

  She collapsed to the dirt, weeping.

  “Look, just let me drive you back to the motel, okay? I’m not leaving you out here. Marta…please.”

  Without saying anything to him, she wiped her nose across her arm, stood and walked to the car, got in and slammed the passenger door.

  The ride back to the motel was dead silent. Felix didn’t even look at her. More tears begged to fall, but he held them back, refused to do it in front of her.

  I don’t deserve this shit.

  Just knowing that they were through, that they were really finished, burned like acid in his chest and throat. He really did think they had a future together, and he felt himself missing her already.

  They pulled into the parking lot, and before he could stop the car, she jumped out, ran to her room.

  “Fuuuuck!” Felix slammed his fists into the steering wheel, honking the horn but not giving a shit. He tore the rearview mirror off the windshield, threw it at the glove compartment and shattered the glass. Then the real tears came, hard and plentiful. He cupped his face with both hands, rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

  A knock at the window. Felix flinched, but a spark of hope ignited in his chest.

  Marta came back to apologize. She overreacted as usual.

  The motel clerk stood there, chewing on his beef jerky. “Quit honking your fucking horn! I’m tryin’ to watch the fuckin’ football game in there, and I can’t hear-”

  Felix shoved the door into the man, hard, pushing him backward and knocking the jerky from his mouth. When he stepped out of the car, the clerk stepped backward. “Shut. Your fucking. Mouth.” Felix spoke through clenched and bared teeth.

  “You can’t…fuck you, man.”

  Felix hit him, was hardly conscious of his fist as it flew from his side and collided with the side of the man’s face. The fat bastard grunted, hit the dirt and writhed as he cupped his jaw.

  The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon now. Felix wanted to hit the motherfucker again, didn’t want to stop until his face was a pulpy, bloody mess.

  “I’ll call the sheriff on you, a-asshole. And you get the fuck outta my motel!” the man said as he continued to scoot himself backward away from Felix.

  Felix slammed the car door behind him. His headache had returned with newfound strength, and it felt like his brain was throbbing inside of his skull.

  The clerk got to his feet, shuffled back toward his office. “I want you out right now! You hear me, motherfucker? I’ll have your ass behind bars for this!”

  Felix glared at the second floor. All of his stuff was in Marta’s room, but he had the car keys. He contemplated just driving away, leaving all this shit behind. But he found himself walking down the road, back toward the bar instead. As pissed as he was, he couldn’t leave her here.

  But fuck, he needed a drink. He never needed a drink so damn bad.

  The same group of Mexican men sat in the same chairs sipping the same brand of beer they were last night. Felix couldn’t help but wonder what it was they did around a town like this, why anyone would want to live there. As Felix passed, they acknowledged him with nods, smiles, but when the sheriff’s car rolled up, they averted their gaze.

  The window rolled down and the sheriff hung his arm out. “Havin’ yourself quite a day, huh, son?”

  Felix ignored him, continued walking. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He heard the sheriff throw the car into park, then the driver’s door creaked open.

  “Stop walkin’. Come over here and let’s have us a chat.”

  Felix fought the powerful urge to shout as he turned and met the sheriff’s gaze. Crusty sores polka-dotted the fat man’s lips.

  “I’m the sheriff of the whole county. This town here? Nothin’ really goin’ on. I’ll stop in a couple times a week, mostly for the food. I do it myself, don’t bring no deputies with me because I don’t usually need to.”

  “That son of a bitch-”

  “I know he is. If I’m being honest, he’s usually the one I gotta keep an eye on out here. But he calls me and tells me you assaulted him. And it wasn’t but a few hours ago you was causin’ trouble with Cristobal and his sister.”

  “Causing trouble? I-”

  “Can it. What I’m sayin’ is you’re makin’ too much goddamn noise around here, son. Maybe it’s best you and your pretty wife continue on down the road. Mexico, right?”

  “She’s not…what do you mean?”

  “She told me this mornin’ the two of you was takin’ a trip into Mexico. Now, I’m gonna go talk to Lindsey, see if I can’t calm him down enough to let you stay the night. But in the mornin’, just move on. Because if I catch any more shit from you, son, I’m haulin’ your ass in. You’re a pain in my prick, and I can only ignore it so long before I rub it out, you hear me?”

  “Believe me. I won’t stay a second longer than I have to.”

  “Well good. I’m headin’ out. And if I get any calls and have to drive my ass back out here, we’re gonna have problems. You don’t want problems with me, son.”

  “Can I go now?”

  The sheriff snorted and spat mucus at Felix’s feet. “Go on. And your motel room’s in the other direction.”

  Felix shrugged, turned his back to the sheriff. “Not going there right now. Have a good night…sir.” He continued walking toward the bar, couldn’t wait to get the first stinging gulp down his throat.

  “Remember what I said. I mean it.”

  “I heard you.”

  As Felix turned the corner, he heard the car door slam and the tires crunching over rocks as the sheriff drove away.

  The same short, fat woman stood just in front of the bar, smoking a cigarette that was nearly burned down to the filter. She showed no recognition of Felix as he walked past her.

  “Bueno, bueno, bueno. ¿Qué‚ paso?”

  Felix didn’t say a word to her as he walked into the bar. The skinny Mexican bartender with the handlebar mustache recognized Felix. Two other Mexican men sat at the bar, both with their heads hanging,
neither speaking to one another.

  “Mi amigo,” the bartender said. “You feeling okay today?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that,” Felix said as he took a seat.

  The bartender chuckled, ran his fingers over his mustache as he placed a shot glass in front of Felix, filled it with tequila. “This will help, mi amigo. This will help.”

  “You better leave the bottle.”

  “Si, claro. No problem.”

  Felix knocked the shot back, hissed, and poured himself another.

  ***

  Marta walked. The second she had left Felix in the parking lot and entered her room, she changed her clothes, put on the old worn out blouse and shorts she had brought. She brought a small bag with a few bottles of water and some protein bars in it and nothing else. She had slid the cross pendant necklace over her head and started on her journey.

  She kept to the road at first, passed a woman who looked ready to fall over, propped up against a wall outside of what looked like a bar. The woman stared at Marta with glossy eyes as she passed, mumbling something under her breath, then chuckling drunkenly.

  Before long, she was in the desert, doing her best to head in the same direction that she and Felix had gone before. She knew she was in for a long walk, but she just thought about her parents. Thought about the days they must have walked to get to the States. Thought about the countless people who had died making the trek. Walking a few hours wouldn’t kill her.

  Marta tugged on the ring as she walked, but it still refused to come off. She would need some soapy water, maybe some oil, to get the goddamn thing off her.

  She regretted what had happened with Felix, but the only thing she could think about was her task. I have to do this. Nothing else matters right now.

  The walk ahead was long and the air was still hot even though the sun had gone down. Her parents’ faces entered her mind as she pushed forward-her mother’s smile and father’s stern face-and for the thousandth time, she made a silent promise to them to see this thing out to the end.

  7

  The alarm went off and Cristobal stood in front of his monitors, his eyes sweeping over the green, night-vision images until he saw movement.

  There.

  A small family walked past his motion sensors, and he ran his thumb over the screen as he watched them stumble forward. A man, with what looked like a small child draped over his back, and a woman walking beside him. They both looked on the verge of falling over, and the child didn’t seem to be moving at all.

  “Mamá!” He stretched a shirt over his head. “Llegó la carne. Una pequeña familia de cerdos.”

  The old woman sat in her chair, facing the window. Rogelio sat cross-legged at her feet, smiling up at Cristobal.

  “Muy bien, mijo. Ándale.”

  Cristobal slipped on his boots, grabbed his keys from the hook beside the door. Alma stood on the second floor, gripping the banister, glaring down at him. She smiled, one hand on her belly, the other waving goodbye.

  Cristobal only locked eyes with her for a second before jogging out the front door and hopping into the truck.

  ***

  Marta finished off one water bottle and tossed it to the dirt. After walking for what felt like forever, she couldn’t hold off on taking a drink any more. She needed it. The night was scorching without so much as a breeze to cool her sweat-slickened skin. She couldn’t imagine trekking across the desert during the hottest parts of the day for days at a time. It only made her mission more urgent, only helped fuel her determination.

  Everything looked the same around her. She couldn’t see very far ahead of her, and as far as she knew at that point, she had taken the wrong direction, was shambling off into nothing and getting nowhere.

  But she kept walking. Even though her legs ached and her feet felt blistered, she kept walking.

  Something shone in the distance. Marta blinked, wiped her forearm across her eyes, then squinted. The moonlight frosted something metal, and Marta picked up her pace until finally jogging toward it.

  The fence. If it wasn’t barbed wire, she would have hugged it. It wasn’t until she was right up against the fence that she saw the abandoned house, but it was far off to her left this time. Somewhere along the way, she had veered off, but not by much. She followed the fence toward the house, her heart sprinting in place and her stomach doing somersaults. When she reached it, she nearly stepped inside, but the scent of decay made her pull her hand away from the crumbling door. It looked more like some kind of barn than a house, and she could have sworn she heard a low growl rattling out from inside.

  As she backed away from the structure, she remembered her cross pendant. The camera.

  She pressed the button at its base, made sure to get some footage of the rotting barn before turning away from it and continuing to follow the fence along the border.

  “Day one,” she said. “I just made it to the border and I’m hoping-”

  A shuffling sound scraped across the dirt just ahead of her. Marta squinted into the darkness and squeezed the cross as her mind raced. Don’t be scared, Marta, she told herself. This is why you came out here in the first place. Go! It sounded like it was getting closer and closer, and she jogged toward it.

  “Hello?” she said. “¿Hola?”

  The shuffling stopped. Something shiny stood just in front of her, and it took Marta a few moments to realize it was a pair of eyes glaring at her. Another set stood just beside the first pair, slightly shorter.

  Marta’s heart skipped a beat. She made sure the crucifix was pointed straight as she took tentative steps forward.

  “¿Hola?” she said again. As she grew nearer, she saw that it was a man and a woman, and it wasn’t until she stood right beside them that she noticed the child draped over the man’s back. A little boy, maybe six or seven, unconscious, his lips chapped and white.

  “¿Agua?” the man said. “P-por…por favor.”

  Marta opened her bag, pulled out the two remaining bottles and handed them to the man and woman. Their hands shook as they reached for the bottles, their dry tongues hanging from their flaky and moistureless lips.

  “G-gracias…gracias…” the woman muttered as she struggled to twist the cap from the bottle.

  “No problema, no problema,” Marta said. “¿El niño está bien?”

  Just as Marta said it, the woman ran some of the water over the boy’s face. His eyes cracked open and he moaned, and his mother poured water into his mouth. The boy drank, his tongue lapping it up as fast as it could. He choked but never stopped drinking.

  The man took a long drink, then put it to the woman’s lips and held it for her as she drank.

  “Where did you come from?” Marta said in Spanish.

  They didn’t answer, just continued drinking, panting. The woman began to whimper as the boy struggled to lift his head from the man’s back.

  “How long have you been walking out here?”

  “Days,” the man said. “Long…hot days…”

  Marta fumbled with her bag again, pulled out her Powerbars. “Are you hungry? This isn’t much, but it will help. Go ahead.”

  The man took the bar, eyed it suspiciously. “Who are you?”

  “I only want to help you. Please eat.”

  The man and woman shared a long glance with each other, started to back away from Marta. When Marta tried to follow, they hurried their pace.

  “Wait. Please, I only want to help.”

  The boy started to cry, his voice hoarse and dry.

  The small family started to run from Marta, but they still couldn’t move very fast. Marta followed, but kept her distance, didn’t want to scare them any more than they already were.

  And then there were headlights.

  The family froze up, spoke in hushed panicked tones to each other. They both shot an accusatory glance at Marta behind them as if she was the cause for this.

  This is it, Marta. This is what you wanted.

  But something wasn’t right
. If this was Border Patrol there would surely be more than one vehicle, and the officers would be shouting orders, running toward them by now.

  The vehicle just sat there, the headlights bright and engulfing them all. The driver’s door popped open, and Marta shielded her eyes to try and get a look. She could see a figure, but just barely over the glow of the lights.

  There was a sound, a clicking and a sort of whoosh.

  The Mexican man yelped, wobbled on his feet for a minute before crashing to the dirt. The boy bawled, rolled off the man’s back. The sound came again, and this time Marta saw the dart hit the woman in the neck. The woman shrieked, fell on the ground beside her child, clawing at the dirt to get closer to him.

  “What is this? What the fuck are you doing!” Marta ran to the woman, pulled the dart out of her neck. She knelt down by the child, tried to scoop him into her arms, but the boy screamed, shrill and deafening, as if to touch him at all was pure agony.

  “Bonita.” The voice was deep, with a hint of fascination.

  Marta thought it sounded vaguely familiar, but didn’t have much time to think about it before the dart hit her in the arm, a quick deep sting that numbed her flesh almost instantly. She stumbled forward, landed on top of the woman’s back. Her arms and legs hung uselessly from her body and her vision began to blur. A gruff laughter filled her ears as the tips of the brown leather boots stepped toward her.

  ***

  “Maybe slow it down, mi amigo.” The bartender’s face swam in Felix’s vision, the man’s thick mustache like a squirming black centipede arched over his mouth.

  “‘Nother shot. Pour it up.” Felix slammed the shot glass on the bar top, knocked it over. He glanced over at the other two men who were both looking at him. It looked like they were laughing at him, but he couldn’t be sure. The neon light from the wall clock spread blue across their faces.

  The bartender sighed. “Whatever you say.”

  Felix took the shot, held his breath to make sure it stayed down. He hissed, slapped the bar and nearly tipped backward on his stool. A pair of arms caught him, caressed his chest, and all he could think was how good it felt to be touched. How good it felt to have Marta beneath him, begging him for more. When the wet lips touched his ear, he thought for a moment that it was Marta, but then he smelled the cigarettes on the breath and remembered the stubby woman who kept walking in and out of the bar.