I drive us back to the city.
Gabriela is too shaken to drive. At least, that’s the impression I get. She doesn’t say it so much as displays it with her actions. Her hand trembled when she gave me her keys, and when she slipped inside the car she slumped down in her seat and stared out her window and didn’t say anything.
A half hour has passed since we left La Miserias and it’s at least another half hour to go before we hit the city.
I clear my throat.
“How do you feel?”
Gabriela doesn’t answer.
I let it go for another minute, just driving, trying to figure out what I can possibly say to the girl to get her to come around.
But then she shifts in her seat and looks at me.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it over the tires humming on the highway.
“You don’t think you can do what anymore?”
“Just … this.”
She motions at the car’s dashboard, as if that explains everything. Which in a way it does. I know exactly what she means, but I want to hear her say the words.
“What’s this?”
She takes a heavy breath, staring hard at me now.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I thought I could do it—I’d done it for months already without any problems—but after tonight …”
She shakes her head as her voice fades away. She leans back in her seat, places her head against the headrest. Doesn’t say anything else.
I check the rearview mirror once again to make sure we’re not being followed.
“Earlier today teenagers with guns came at us. Do you not remember that happening?”
She issues a soft, desperate laugh.
“Of course I remember that happening. And that was scary, but this …”
She lifts her hand, wobbling it back and forth, as if the missing words will somehow appear in her palm. Then she drops the hand and sighs.
“Before it didn’t seem real. I mean, I know it was real—I was right there when it happened, saw everything with my own eyes—but for some reason it just didn’t feel real. But tonight … I thought those men were going to kill us.”
She shakes her head suddenly, sitting up in her seat.
“No, I thought they were going to rape us before they killed us. And that … that realization somehow made it all the more real. All the more worse. Stupid teenagers with guns are one thing. But corrupt cops …”
She shakes her head again.
“I sound so weak, don’t I?”
I don’t answer at first. I’m not sure what to tell Gabriela. The fact is I don’t know her very well. She seems tough, seems dedicated, but sometimes those things can be simple facades. The people who act the strongest are sometimes those who are the weakest. They hide behind bravado so long they soon start believing their own bullshit.
“Do you think Ramon and Carlos are corrupt?”
She shrugs, staring out her window.
“I don’t know. Probably not. It’s impossible to say who in law enforcement is corrupt. And maybe they wouldn’t have raped and killed us—maybe they would have just taken us to jail—but once the idea entered my mind …”
She shakes her head again and turns to look at me.
“Do you think I should stop?”
“I have no clue. If you don’t want to keep doing this, then stop doing it. It doesn’t matter to me.”
In the flash of headlights from a passing car I see her eyes tearing up.
She says, “Don’t you ever get scared?”
“All the time.”
“How do you deal with it?”
The question gives me pause.
“I’m not sure. The truth is, I’ve never thought about it much. I guess I just live my life day by day. I don’t worry about next year. Or next month. Or even tomorrow.”
“But don’t you … have dreams? Like to someday get married and have children?”
“Honestly? It’s never really appealed to me.”
“But haven’t you ever been in love?”
I say nothing to this. Of course I’ve been in love. And just my luck, the guy I loved turned out to be one massive douche who faked his death along with my father and then came back, years later, to try to kill me.
My silence is enough to give Gabriela the hint. She slumps in her seat again and stares out her window. When she speaks next, her voice is just above a whisper.
“I’ve been in love too many times to count. It sounds silly, I know, and maybe it’s because I’m so young. But every time I go out with a guy I instantly fall in love with him. It sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? I don’t come on too strong—that’s not what I mean—but in my heart I instantly see myself living the rest of my life with whoever I’m out with at that moment. I think it’s because I want to get married some day, have children, all of that. I want to move away from Culiacán. I want to move to the United States where it’s safe. Where you can raise a family and not worry about getting killed in your sleep.”
Gabriela falls silent, wiping the tears from her eyes.
I ask, “Do you have much interaction with the cops around Culiacán?”
“Not really. I know of them, but I don’t know them.”
“Do you know where Ramon lives?”
This makes her pause. She watches me in the dark for a long time, studying the side of my face.
I say, “Relax. I’m not going to kill him.”
“Then why are you asking where he lives?”
“After what happened tonight with Ramon and his partner and those government men, I want to assure Ramon that I’m not the enemy.”
“Ramon is policía, so his information won’t be easy to find, but I’ll email the publisher of La Baliza. Maybe he’ll be able to track it down.”
“Also see if he can find Ramon’s phone number.”
She nods, already typing away on her cell phone. After a long moment, she hits a final button and sets the phone in her lap.
“Done.”
“Thanks. Now, about your story.”
Her voice becomes all at once guarded.
“What about my story?”
“Are you going to write it?”
Gabriela hesitates a beat.
“I might.”
“I think you should. And I think you should sleep on your decision to stop doing what you do. Like you said, if you don’t do it, who else will?”
Gabriela leans back in her seat, stares out her window as she answers in a soft voice.
“I’ll think about it.”
Ten minutes later, just as we see the city lights ahead of us, Gabriela’s cell phone dings.
I ask, “The publisher?”
She nods, reading the screen. Then she smiles at me.
“He found it.”