FELIX

FELIX STOPPED SHAVING. HE STILL HAD SOME DISPOSABLE razors left but what was the point? Somehow the thick, dark facial hair made him feel less vulnerable and more a part of his surroundings. He had never grown his beard before and now saw that his father had been right. You had to shave both sides of the face in the same direction. Otherwise whiskers won’t grow symmetrically. When he first stated shaving, his father reminded him, over and over. He’d never listened. It was easier to shave down on the left and up on the right. And now the hair was growing in the direction he’d trained it, sort of a swirling pattern. If he had facial hair on his forehead, it would form a perfect ring encircling his face with just his eyes and nose sticking out, like a whisker wreath. Felix looked in the small mirror he’d hung on the branch. He liked the idea of his face covered in fur. So did Rigoberta. She thought he should keep the beard because it made him look older, more virile. He told her he’d take it off when he left the camp; Violeta wouldn’t like it. Rigoberta thought she might. Anyway, they both agreed that for now his circular beard would stay.

Felix and Rigoberta, with the help of Don Jefe, had come up with a few other ways to make the camp safer. For one thing, they’d built snake pits in key areas around the crop lines. It was actually Don Jefe’s idea. He helped Felix figure out how to capture the snakes. At first Felix had been fearful, a rattlesnake bite would be a real problem, but Don Jefe reassured him and, with a little practice, he got good sneaking up on the snakes, pinning their heads with a forked stick, then grabbing them behind the jaw and dropping them into the deep pits. Rigoberta had taught him that it was important to only go after fully extended snakes; once they were coiled it was too dangerous because they felt threatened and would strike. Rigoberta was the smartest of the group. They had about twenty snakes now, split between five pits. Felix made some box rat traps that didn’t kill the animal so he’d have something to feed the snakes. He sprayed them down with water once or twice a day to keep them cool enough and fed them all the rats he could catch. They seemed to be thriving down there in the pits and Felix felt much safer.

It was true that nothing had been stolen since Felix told Hernando about the missing sprayer. Hernando said that Ramon would talk to his boss, who would talk to the other boss, who would contact the guy who was in charge, who would have a word with the neighboring cartels. Everything would be taken care of. Felix shouldn’t worry. But of course Felix did.

Hernando hadn’t been back in over two weeks. He’d been angry last time because he got hit in the face by several of Felix’s whip-traps and almost fallen into one of the spike holes. Next time he came, Felix suggested he whistle once he was close to camp and Felix would come and guide him in. Hernando had told Felix to tear out his booby traps, that the whole thing was ridiculous, but Hernando didn’t live out here all by himself. He went home every night to his wife and family. They cooked breakfast burritos together and held each other’s hands. They had a house and a life. Who was Hernando to tell Felix how to survive out here when all he knew was comfort?

Felix increased the water flow to the marijuana and they stood thick, brushy and tall. The buds were sticky and full; it should be an excellent yield. When were they going to give him his money? They’d told him when it’s all finished but when exactly? The day they cut the plants? When they drove him to the bus that would carry him home? He would ask next time Hernando came. He wanted the details of how he was going to get back. He needed to know.

Rigoberta was starting to get a little funny about his leaving. She wanted him to take her back to Mexico. She said she could live with he and Violeta, maybe watch the kids once they started having babies. Felix had got to laughing out loud one afternoon when he envisioned himself climbing on a bus bound for Michoacan with Rigoberta slung over his shoulders. Maybe they could tie her to the top of the bus? What a silly idea. Sometimes she would get too whiny and that’s when Felix would have to break the connection and walk away. She was a bear made out of sticks. Nothing more. He wouldn’t talk to her for a day or so and when he came back she always behaved herself like a perfect lady and his best friend.