Around noon, we turned south, right after passing a sign that read, WELCOME TO ARIZONA.
“We’re headed for the border crossing Paco used to travel,” Manny whispered. “Back when he smuggled people from Mexico. He says it’s prime jaguar habitat.”
“Jaguar habitat? In the United States?” That was a surprise to me. I thought maybe Manny and his mom were the only jaguars in the country.
After a snarl at my ignorance, Manny explained, “This whole area, from Texas to Missouri and all the way to California, used to belong to jaguars.”
“What happened?” I asked. “How come there aren’t that many jaguars around anymore?”
“Gringos took the land and hunted us down. Only a few survivors escaped into northern Mexico.”
“Gringos?”
“That’s what they call Americans in Mexico,” Manny said.
From the sound of it, this was another example of the damage no-tails had caused in natural areas. They stole land from other creatures and wiped out big predators. Until those werewolves showed up in John’s Gore, wolves in Vermont had been hunted to extinction, and from what I’d read in books and magazines, such exterminations were still happening in Asia and Africa with tigers and cheetahs and leopards.
Hours passed, and we kept driving through desert until we finally reached the border of Arizona and Mexico. But whatever used to be “prime jaguar habitat” had changed considerably. Instead of the pine forest winding through patches of desert that Manny said used to be here, there was an enormous fence. Three fences, actually. One ran parallel to another, and then there was a third behind it. All were topped with razor wire.
A gravel road ran alongside the fence, and the trees were cleared for hundreds of feet on the US side of the border. The Mexican side had been scoured, too.
Paco muttered something in Spanish as we stepped from the car. From the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound happy.
“What’s he saying?” I asked Manny in a low voice.
“I can’t repeat it,” he said.
“That bad, huh?”
What happened next was kind of weird; at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Manny’s mother stepped over and gave Manny a hug, as if to say good-bye. When she glanced over and laid a hand on my shoulder, I could see tears in her eyes.
What’s with her? I wondered. Manny also looked confused.
There was no time to find out. A truck came barreling along the gravel road, lights flashing, and kicking up a cloud of dust. It looped around Paco’s car and blocked our exit before we had a chance to escape.
An insignia on the door read, UNITED STATES BORDER PATROL.
Uh oh. This couldn’t be good. My eyes darted up and down the fence, hoping I’d spot a hole we could slip through. Unfortunately, it appeared impenetrable. Our only chances for cover were some far-off trees and a drainage ditch more than three hundred feet away.
When I checked back on Paco, all I saw was a flutter of torn clothing. Far off, a coyote was sprinting away, tail tucked between its legs.
“Cobarde,” Manny grumbled, shaking his head with a sneer.
“W-w-what are we going to do now?” I asked.
Nobody had an answer.
Two officers stepped from the Border Patrol vehicle at the same time. Both wore mirror-lensed sunglasses and identical uniforms, although one was kind of short and the other kind of bald.
“Can we help you folks?” asked the bald one.
The short guy asked Manny’s mother, “¿Qué hacen por aquí?”
She didn’t respond.
Eyes wide, Manny turned toward me. “He asked what we’re doing here.”
I cleared my throat and said, “We’re just … trying to get into Mexico.” I didn’t think that was a crime. “What’s the fastest way?”
The bald officer faced me, and my whole body was reflected in his glasses. “What are you doing with these people, son?”
“Me? I already told you—we’re trying to get into Mexico.” I noticed my voice betrayed my nervousness this time around.
The officer squinted. “You speak Spanish?”
“Um … not really.”
“But I speak English,” said Manny.
“And who is this woman?” the shorter officer demanded.
Manny said, “That’s my mom.”
The officers’ glare shot back in my direction.
“What’s your relationship to these people?” the bald one asked.
I shrugged. “We’re just friends, that’s all.”
Behind his glasses, the officer raised an eyebrow. “So, you and your friends here are trying to sneak into Mexico?”
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
Both officers chuckled, but their tone wasn’t friendly.
The short officer said to me, “I’ll have to ask you to step aside.” While he spoke, his hand reached around the back of his belt and withdrew a pair of handcuffs.
“Why?” I shot back, refusing to budge.
“Where are your parents, son?” asked the other officer, placing a hand on his holster.
My jaw locked, since I couldn’t be honest. What could I possibly say?
I decided playing dumb would be my strategy. “What do you mean?”
He said, “It’s strange to find a young boy hanging around with two Mexican nationals in the middle of the desert. Do your parents know you’re out here?”
“What’s it to you?” Manny shot back.
“I’m asking the questions here, young man,” countered the officer.
The short man unlatched his cuffs and stepped toward Manny’s mom.
“Come on,” I pleaded, “they didn’t do anything wrong.”
The bald officer shook his head. “I’m not so sure of that. Looks to me like something suspicious might be going on.”
“Like what?”
With a shrug, the short officer moved next to Manny’s mother. “If I had to guess, I’d say this is a possible kidnapping.”
“Dice que es un secuestro,” Manny said to his mom in frantic Spanish.
Manny’s mother snapped from her silence with a deep growl. Firing a glance at me, she said in English, “You go! Run!”
Next thing I knew, Manny’s mother leaped for the bald officer, who was withdrawing his weapon. By the time she was on top of him, she’d gone completely jaguar.
The short officer stammered, “What the …?” and stumbled backward after two swipes from Manny’s mom’s sharp claws.
For Manny and me, there was nothing to do besides shape shift and flee. So that’s what we did. In hyena form, those pine trees weren’t nearly as far away. Neither was that drainage ditch, which would provide some additional cover.
A surge of energy made me whoop as we sprinted toward the trees. Manny’s mother roared, and one of the officers shrieked in horror. Manny and I dove into the ditch, dodged a few spiny bushes, and hunkered low. The dip of earth hid us from whatever was happening near the fence.
Pop. A sound echoed over the crest. Manny’s mother roared.
Pop. Pop. Two more bursts followed.
Then there was silence.
“They’re shooting!” Manny bellowed. “They’re shooting my mom!”
He crouched, prepared to leap up and return to the fence, but I stopped him by shoving my head into his ribs, knocking him off balance.
Manny tumbled into the sand below.
“Don’t even think about it,” I giggled. “You’ll get us killed!”
“Out of my way!” Manny roared.
I hunkered down, preparing to block his path. Baring my teeth, I made clear I’d use them if necessary. Even though Manny’s bite force was fourteen points higher, my jaws could do plenty of damage.
“¡Corren!” Manny’s mother’s voice commanded.
Hold on—she’s still alive? It didn’t matter, really, because I needed to keep Manny safe from harm.
“She says we have to run.” Tears welling in his feline eyes, Manny scru
nched his face tight for a moment, as if he were seized with unbearable pain. I understood the reason, too, since he had an impossible choice: either try to save his mother, and probably get killed in the process, or leave her behind, and save his own skin. My own feelings were also in turmoil, because I really liked his mom and knew what it was like to lose family.
Manny suddenly came to his senses and began trotting along the ditch. A few more pops sounded, and we broke into a full-out run. Forcing my attention on where we were headed, I noted that the ditch ran from west to east, probably to stop water from washing away the fence. I guessed it sometimes rained in the desert, too.
We must’ve run five or six miles before slowing our pace. I didn’t think jaguar bodies were built for endurance, but Manny stayed strong. When the drainage ditch abruptly ended, we trotted into a stretch of pine forest and lay low in the shade.
“You want to head south again?” I asked Manny once I’d stopped panting. That fence couldn’t run forever, could it?
Manny checked back over his shoulder, and I could feel the sadness dripping from his voice when he asked, “Can’t we wait for a bit?” He must’ve been holding out hope that his mother might come.
I drew in a deep breath, panted a few more times, and asked, “Do you think that’s what your mom would want?” For all I knew, the Border Patrol might be searching for us with helicopters or German shepherds, and I wanted to move while we could.
His gaze fixed behind us; Manny breathed a mournful sigh.
“She’ll find us, Manny,” I assured him, even though I couldn’t say if that were true. “Jaguars are good trackers, aren’t they?”
Manny glanced over at me. “My mom’s the best tracker in the world.”
“Well, we’ve left plenty of paw prints for her to follow, and I can scent mark some spots, too.”
Pulling his feline brow tight, Manny said, “You’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t shrug, since hyenas don’t have much in the way of shoulders, so all I said was, “We’d better keep moving, okay? Your mother told us to run, and so that’s what we should do.”
Though he hesitated, Manny had to agree. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “All right, but let’s go farther east before we turn south again.”
“Head east?” We’d just spent two days driving west, so this made absolutely no sense to me.
A growl echoed in Manny’s throat. “You gringos probably built that fence all the way to California, which means the only spot where the border might still be passable is New Mexico.”
“How far is that from here?”
Manny didn’t seem so sure, so he only said, “Let’s run east until sundown, okay? Then we’ll try to cross.”
The sun was already dipping in the sky, casting shadows that made us look ten times taller, so I guessed we wouldn’t be running east for long.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s head east.” I paused for a moment while thinking. “But what’ll we do once we cross the border?”
Manny said, “New Mexico was where my mom and I crossed last time, and there’s a town on the other side that isn’t far. We can go there and figure out what to do next.”
“Do you remember where it is?” I didn’t want to get stuck in the desert. I was thirsty enough already.
“I’m pretty sure.”
For the moment, “pretty sure” was the best we could do.
FINDING A TOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DESERT DIDN’T SOUND easy, and once we found the stretch of unprotected border where Manny claimed he’d crossed with his mom, Manny didn’t seem real clear on directions. Not to me, at least. His “pretty sure” back in Arizona must’ve been an exaggeration. Big time.
“We need to look for lights,” was all he told me. “Anything that might be glowing over the horizon.”
Scanning the starlit expanse of bare rock and sparse vegetation, I hoped we’d find something by dawn. After more than an hour of wandering, it became clear we were lost. Manny must’ve known, too, even though he wouldn’t admit it.
He only said, “None of this looks the same as before.”
“Probably because we’re not in the same spot,” I said. No doubt we’d gone off course.
With a scowl on his face, Manny said, “I’m telling you—this is where we went last time.”
“How can you be so sure?”
A low rumble poured out through Manny’s teeth. He probably didn’t plan on saying anything else, but when he turned to face the barren wilderness, he let out a half roar and leaped back. Something had startled him.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A spider,” he said. “A big one.” All of a sudden, he didn’t sound so tough.
I trotted carefully to where he stood and saw an enormous tarantula. Covered in hair, it had orange-ish joints that stood out brightly in the darkness.
A female voice spoke within me. “Our people honor the spider, whose stories helped us through slavery.” The voice was Queen Ayaba’s again. Had the spirits sent this spider for a reason?
Manny raised a paw to swat it, but before he could let loose, I whooped, “No!”
“Huh?” His paw hung in midair.
“Leave it alone,” I said.
“Let me show you the way,” whispered a faint voice.
Manny’s gaze shot all around. “Who said that?”
“Probably the spider.”
The spider motioned with one arm … or leg … whatever those things were called.
“Go that way,” it said.
Moments later, we came upon an enormous horde of tarantulas crawling out from under every rock in sight.
“Let them guide you,” Queen Ayaba instructed inside my mind.
“Okay,” I answered out loud.
“Okay, what?” asked Manny.
“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s go. We need to follow them.”
Manny hesitated. “Are you sure about this?”
As we watched, the tarantulas formed a path that stretched toward the horizon. Far off in the distance, a semicircle of light arched through the sky.
“Sure about this?” I shot back. “Of course I am.” As Queen Ayaba had promised, the spirits were watching over me.
With a nod at the line formed by thousands upon thousands of tarantulas, Manny asked, “Doesn’t this seem kind of strange?”
“What? The spiders?” I smirked. “No, it’s totally normal. Just look over there,” I told him, flicking my snout in the direction of the dome of light in the distance.
“Must be the town,” he said.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
It took nearly two hours to reach the hills outside the town, and by the time we reached them, I was really thirsty. Empty water bottles were strewn about everywhere, as if to tease me, along with food wrappers and other assorted pieces of trash.
Litter in the desert wasn’t our only problem, though. In an instant, panic hit me like a lightning bolt.
“Oh, crap!” I exclaimed. “I forgot my wallet!” It had to be in the pocket of my tattered pants, which were back in Arizona by the fence.
Manny didn’t say anything. He just dropped his head and sighed.
In this new turn of events, the tarantulas weren’t any help. Turning their plump abdomens at us, they abruptly returned to their burrows under the surrounding stones.
“We could go back,” said Manny, lifting his head a bit. I had to think my wallet wasn’t the only reason he wanted to return to the border fence.
“We can’t,” I insisted. “It’s too dangerous—and too far.”
Manny sighed again, lowering his head more. Filled with frustration, I stomped a clawed paw on the hard-packed earth.
But help could come from anywhere, it seemed. A doglike form appeared in the distance, a form smaller than a wolf. Once it came within sniffing distance, I recognized him instantly.
“Is that Paco?” I said, the shock resonating in my voice.
; Manny raised his head.
Tail lowered and ears back, the coyote approached us in a perfect gesture of submission. He didn’t say anything, just let out a whimper and dropped an object at my feet. Much to my surprise, it was my wallet, still bulging with hundred dollar bills.
“I’m sorry,” Paco said softly. “I’m sorry for what happened back there.” Switching his gaze to Manny, he said, “Your mother—I’m … just so sorry. She … I … I shouldn’t have left. I owed her my life already.”
Manny wasn’t ready for apologies. He crouched low and roared, “¡Cobarde!” right before he pounced.
Paco was quick to react. He’d spun almost completely around by the time Manny was on top of him, and Paco let out a yelp as Manny’s claws dug into his back. I figured Paco was done for, but then the jaguar’s body went slack. Drained of energy, Manny released his grip.
Paco didn’t waste any time scrambling onto his paws and darting off.
Manny just groaned and lay down.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he muttered. His voice sounded as if he were on the verge of sobbing. Not that I was an expert or anything—I’d never heard a jaguar cry before—but I’m pretty sure that’s what it sounded like.
“You sure?” I persisted after a few minutes.
Manny said, “That stupid coyote isn’t worth it.” He sniffled while speaking and wouldn’t show me his face.
“You’re right,” I said, trying to sound supportive. Besides, I didn’t want Manny killing another shape shifter—it was definitely against The Code.
A moment of silence passed between us. Manny peered far into the distance, his face turned away from mine. I wondered if I should try to be supportive, like pat a paw on his back or something, but since I’d never really had a friend before, I didn’t know what was usual to do in a situation like this. I felt bad for him, though, and I also definitely missed his mother. In her own, quiet way, she’d made a huge impact on me. His loss also reminded me of my own family, although I still had a chance of seeing my parents alive. By this point, I even missed Lauren, which I’d never thought was possible before.
Earning My Spots Page 10