The Un-Ridden City Of Juarez, Mexico

Under the pounding waves of the noon sun a man wiped the sweat of his brow and approached a door. His callused finger tips touched the cracked red door and pushed it aside. Another man appeared from somewhere inside the poor shack that passed as a home in their violent and poverty-ridden city of Juarez, Mexico. The man from inside the falling apart shelter greats the man entering, as they are good friends despite recent lack of contact and the new occasional arguments they seem to be havnig. “Hola José, please sit” “Gracias Jesús, but we need to talk” José replied. “I know, I have thought up a plan, one to get us over is all goes well” “Good, we need to leave by Thursday. It will be Good Friday and the probability of border patrol finding us

José starts his routine again, only this time he puts no care into what he is doing as if he was just doing it to look normal and busy. He knows he will leave everything behind tonight, so he is just getting through the day preparing mentally. He returns home at noon to eat his lunch of dried beans and undercooked rice, he sits and eats quietly as he is alone as he always is, but there is a knock at the door and José rises up from his bed to answer it. “Hi José, may I come in?” Jesús asks already knowing the answer. “Of course” José replies. “We need to leave tonight and the border angles won’t be able to help us, but I have marked on this map locations of water drop locations”, “Good, meet me here at 6” José says. “See you later” Jesús says, leaving José behind to return to his meal. The conversations between the two are never long, only enough to get their point across and any humor that they ever had has left as a fault of their grim

José walks steadily behind Jesús, he stops for a second to pick up a medium sized stick. He examines it for a moment and notices something written alongside it. A carving that reads CARLOS 1980 APRIL 2, exactly 30 years and 1 day from the current date. He decides to keep it and yells after Jesús to wait up. “Jesús wait! Stop!”, but Jesús can’t hear him so José has to run up to him in the 100 degree weather. “Wait!” “Why, what happened?” Jesús asks. “I stopped for a moment and found a walking stick, but you wouldn’t wait and I had to run up here”, “We don’t have time for a stick, and we’ll stop just ahead, at the tree. There should be two bottles if my info is correct”. They walk for another 20 minutes before stopping to rest their feet. Under the tree as Jesús said, there are two jugs of water for each of them. José irresponsibly drinks most of his water, while Jesús takes small sips to preserve it for later. “Don’t drink to fast or you’ll run out!” Jesús shouts angrily. “Sorry, just really thirsty” “I know but we still have another day of walking to do”. “yes” José says looking down at the ground. “Good, lets get back to walking. Its almost dark and the safe spot is just up ahead” Jesús says, standing up ready to go. They get back to the cracked desert ground, where each footstep feels like your moving backwards from the horizon, and vultures circle overhead waiting for anything to finally