CHAPTER 17

Lights flashed behind Santiago’s eyelids. Pretty lights. Steady and consistent. Like a beating heart.

Except now his eyes were open. Red lights and blue lights. Warnings. Why would he see lights in the desert? And voices. Male voices. Maybe a female one too. But not María Dolores’s voice. These voices didn’t use words he understood.

“Santi.” Alegría’s voice came out breathless near his ear. Now that she spoke, he could feel her weight, comforting and close, still on his back. “Mami.”

“Shh,” he whispered. He forced his dehydrated mind to focus, comprehend the events in front of him, and stay hidden. Deep breaths: the only brain food available to him.

One set of flashing lights came from a police car. He was pretty sure. The other from a large white van where a flat bed was being pulled out. A stretcher. An ambulance.

Two other cars were parked along the side. Lots of people talked. Still, none of the things they said made any sense. Not that it mattered. Police in any language didn’t sound good.

“Shh,” he reminded Alegría. He couldn’t let the police notice them. Stay hidden; don’t let them see us.

He noticed tangled bleached-blond hair mixed with black hair flutter against the desert ground. María Dolores.

Alegría whimpered in his ear. This time he didn’t remind her to stay quiet.

People in uniforms lifted María Dolores onto the stretcher. The sight stung his eyes, but blinking hurt just as much; his body didn’t have enough water to produce tears.

Her head rolled in their direction. The wind carried words from the scene he finally understood: “Alegr— San—.”

The uniformed people shifted, blocking her from Santiago’s sight. A male voice finally spoke in Spanish. “What are you saying? That you’re alegre? Or are you praying to a saint?”

But no other words came from María Dolores.

Someone else gave an order, and the stretcher continued to the ambulance parked on the road.

The same person who’d spoken Spanish before changed tactics. Instead of questioning, he turned to comforting. “You’re safe. We’re going to get you some water and food, and medical attention. You’re going to be okay.”

“Mami,” Alegría sobbed against Santiago’s shoulder as they loaded her mamá onto the ambulance twenty meters away.

He’d promised María Dolores he’d take care of Alegría. But he’d also promised himself he’d look after both of them. Yet here, now, in the desert, they were taking María Dolores away. Paramedics and police officers. Just like they’d taken his mami away.

He couldn’t let them get caught. He had to save Alegría’s life. Water. Food. He had none of those things. Didn’t know where he could find them. But these people. They had water and food. Alegría needed water and food. Like she needed her mami.

The ambulance door slammed with a bang.

One hand held Alegría’s leg to keep her steady. The other hand pressed against the ground, gathering his knees from under him, pushing and straining until he finally rolled up to standing. He raised the hand not supporting Alegría high into the air. “Pare. ¡Alto!”