The sun shone hot and bright when Santiago woke up the next morning. His vision blurred as he looked up and down the narrow canyon walls, scoping out the lands cape. Domínguez had mentioned it would be challenging but worth it to reach the old mining town of Valle Cobre on the other side of the mountain range. Exc ept the SUV changed their plans before Domínguez had indicated how to get there. Santiago followed the slot canyon to the end, staring at the ground for traces of footprints. He found nothing and soon he realized why. Not too far from the cave, the walls narrowed until he couldn’t go any farther. The vertical rock walls reached for the sliver of blue sky without o ering a single path or su cient protruding rocks to climb. Exiting the way they’d entered the night before, Santiago scouted the base of the mountain for footpaths over the range. Nothing stood out; nothing indicated the best way over. Large rocks dominated near the top, but he couldn’t tell from the bottom how to get past the boulders. The range went on for a while in both directions; going around wasn’t possible. On the plus side, not having any visible pathways meant l a m i g r a wouldn’t know where to follow them.
All through the scouting, Santiago gathered branches and skeletons of dead cholla cacti to r eplenish the rewood in the cave. María Dolores met him at the cave entrance with two slices of bread with Spam and ketchup from a packet she had found in the bottom of her bag. After eating only peanuts, raisins, and chocolate last night, this felt like a gourmet meal. “We don’t have as much food as I thought. It might be a few days until we get to civilization. But we need to eat or we won’t get anywhere,” María Dolores said as she xed a Spam sandwich for Alegría. “How are we with water?” Even with all his scouting, he had seen no evidence of water anywhere. Just an arid, barren lands cape as far as the eye could see, and a sun that would fry a lizard if it stood still long enough. María Dolores showed him the remaining three bottles and sighed. “We went through more than a bottle yesterday. We need to make the rest last.” He told her what he’d seen outside the canyon. Or rather what he hadn’t seen: trails. “Princesa will help,” Alegría said as she pranced around the cave with her imaginary friend. Santiago would have given anything to d epend on a unicorn. “Domínguez didn’t mention o hand any other landmark?” María Dolores asked. Santiago searched his brain for a few minutes. “Only the old mining village with a phone on the other side of the mountains, but it’s hard to get to.” María Dolores made a sound in the back of her throat, part sigh, part growl. “I think that’s our best bet. Ke ep heading north. Sooner or later, we’ll have to come across something. A road or town.” He nodded, knowing they were both hoping for sooner rather than later. “It’s too hot right now, but I don’t know if we can nd our way over the mountain in the dark.” He touched the back of his neck. Even now, in the cave, he could still feel the sun’s heat against his skin. “Let’s wait a few hours and see how far we can get. We can stop once it gets too dark and start again rst thing in the morning before the heat settles in.” María Dolores stood up and took inventory of their things in the cave. “Help me pick up our trash.” She also made Santiago put on sunscreen.
“But I’m brown—I don’t burn. And I’m wearing a hat,” he protested. “Doesn’t matter. At least the back of your neck and tops of your ears. And your arms. It’ll prevent heatstroke.” It sounded like an old wives’ tale to him, but it wasn’t worth resisting if it made María Dolores happy. They started climbing the mountain in the late afternoon, zigzagging across, which was easier than going straight up. Alegría trotted from one direction to the next, chasing lizards and crouching to look at interesting owers that ourished despite the desert heat. The rst hour or so proved the hardest. Santiago could feel the heat rising from the scorching ground through the soles of his new shoes. Had he still been wearing his old mouth shoes, he doubted his feet would have survived. Yet María Dolores insisted that they ke ep going. They passed the point of tired and uncomfortable and went on autopilot, ke eping the same steady pace, often with Alegría holding Santiago’s hand as Princesa guided the way. The journey grew steadily rockier as they got higher; their st eps caused small rocks to give way and create landslides. Twice Santiago slipped and landed on his knees. It happened many more times to María Dolores. He looked for a walking stick for her, something that would stabilize her footing. But no trees grew up here, and every stick he found snapped at the slightest pressure. As the sun set, their way became blocked by boulders. Santiago lifted Alegría up and over the massive rocks, climbed over himself, and then o ered a hand to María Dolores. At the summit of the mountain, they nally paused. Half the night had passed, and the autumn breeze felt refreshing once Santiago removed his backpack. More mountains scattered the northern horizon, more empty land, more signs of desert, but no signs of water. No lights from a nearby town. They settled among the north sides of boulders that felt cool to the touch, unlike the south sides, and blocked the wind. María Dolores emptied a backpack and placed it over Alegría like a blanket. A few hardy plants grew in the rock crevices, but none were su cient to start a re with. Back against a boulder, María Dolores placed a hand on her daughter and held her other arm out for Santiago. Too tired to resist, he curled up next to her.
The lightening sky woke Santiago up. His bones ached from the night’s chill and sle eping on rocks, but still he scrambled back up to the top boulders. It took a few minutes, but there, nally, he noticed something. A faint line of a road running behind a hill. Wherever it led, it gave them a more precise destination than just “north.” He memorized the shape of the hill the road went behind—a completely at mesa top with symmetrically sloping sides. He returned to their camp to nd María Dolores awake and holding out her phone as she turned in a slow circle. “I’ve texted my sister, but I can’t get a signal to send the message.” She handed him a piece of dry bread. He ate it slowly to trick his stomach into thinking he was eating more. “I found a road,” he said, licking his chapped lips. “I hope it leads us to Valle Cobre, where Domínguez said there’s a phone and shelter until someone can pick us up.” Santiago reached into his bag for some water. Another bottle was completely empty, the third half-empty. Only a little more than one full bottle remained when yesterday they had almost three. He and Alegría had been so careful, taking the smallest sips. How could they have gone through so much without knowing it? He stashed the water back in the bag without drinking. María Dolores, still circling with her phone, noticed nothing. “Let’s walk before it gets too hot.” He put on the backpack and lifted the sle eping Alegría into his arms. The wind tugged at her pigtails, ready to lift her up and carry her away. A sudden panic pulled in Santiago’s heart at the thought of her being sw ept away like the townspeople from his favorite childhood story. He placed a protective hand on her back. Safe. He had to ke ep her safe. María Dolores took two de ep breaths and re lled Alegría’s backpack. At some point in their migration, Santiago had become the person in command, the person who knew where they were going. Or pretended he did. They set o down the ridge and over the foothills. The chilly night gave way to another scorching day. They stopped before midday next to a low bush that provided the illusion of shelter but no actual shade.
Santiago slowly scanned the horizon. His vision blurred in the sunlight. It took several blinks to con rm that no trees grew out here; nothing but the hats and the clothes they wore protected them from the intense sun. Was it better to ke ep walking in this heat, or let the sun dehydrate them more as they did nothing? He couldn’t decide, so they stayed put. Just for a little bit. The girls didn’t complain either. The crying yips of coyotes jerked Santiago awake. His throat burned with thirst, but he only allowed himself one swallow of water. They had to ke ep going. About an hour of sunlight remained, and they had to get to the road. All roads led somewhere. “Wake up, time to go.” His voice came out in a croak. “I don’t want to,” Alegría whined. “Can’t we rest a little bit more?” María Dolores begged. “No, we’re not safe here,” Santiago insisted, and they nally relented. The second the sun disappeared, the air chilled, bringing goose bumps. In his arms, he could feel Alegría shivering. He rubbed a hand up and down her thin back and forced his stride to lengthen. Their destination had to be getting closer. Had to. He led them blindly through the night. Several times he pinched himself to focus, only sometimes his brain reacted. W a t e r , s h e l t e r , f r e e d o m . A l e g r í a , M a r í a D o l o r e s . They were what mattered. They were the ones he had to ke ep alive. K e e p g o i n g . The sun began to rise when they nally stumbled upon a faint trail. Turning his back to the sun, he followed the path into the hills. Maybe it was a mirage, a hallucination brought on by his extreme fatigue or cold, but something like a building loomed ahead. “ V e o u n a c a s a , ” María Dolores said, the rst time anyone had spoken in hours. It wasn’t a house, at least not anymore, but a wall, made from mud-red adobe bricks. Santiago eased Alegría down before crashing onto the ground right next to her. Another rustle indicated María Dolores had done the same.