PROLOGUE

The forest was alive with a hundred different sounds. It was hard to distinguish one from the other. They blended together like a symphony orchestra tuning up prior to a sold out performance. Paco, a young Salvadorian boy of sixteen wandered through, stopping occasionally to refresh himself from the plastic water bottle he had on rope around his neck. Not one stitch of his clothing was dry and his shoes felt like heavy sponges sloshing with each step. His beardless, boyish face was scarred from the incessant whipping by low hanging branches and vines which fought his every step as if he were an intruder and they the guardians of the forbidden world. He had lost all sense of time. His uncle had told him he would be out of the jungle and through to Guatemala within five days but he felt as if he would never see the sky again. He had never felt so many eyes bearing down on him. He knew he was a stranger in a strange land and many of the animals and reptiles had followed him curious as to what type of creature he was. Having decided he was no predator they had let him walk on, unmolested. He was carrying a small rope hammock with him that his sister had made for him. That along with a scant amount of food, one change of clothing and $800 was all he had with him. He carried a short machete his uncle had fashioned it for him and custom fit a handle on it. Constantly wielding it had tired him up but there were sections of the brush so thick he had no choice but to try and cut his way through. He had heard of Americans who had campaigned to save the tropical forests and he wondered how hard they would campaign to keep them if they were forced to trudge through them days on end. The moonless nights were damp and cold and he noticed the foliage growing darker as the light which filtered in from the dense vegetation grew more and more dim. He knew the last traces of daylight were seeping away. He glanced down at his compass and assured himself that he was still traveling North by Northwest. He stumbled upon a small clearing with a low hanging tree and decided to string up his hammock and rest for the next day's journey.

He was unaware that he was being stalked. Keeping a safe distance was a rather formidable jaguar. Used to dieting on small deer, unsuspecting tropical birds and the many other assorted fare that the forest offered. the jaguar had heard Paco and followed him from a distance going from tree to tree with utmost stealth. He had perched himself about twenty feet above the ground in an massaranduba tree. Paco not know he was being watched had tied his hammock between two palm trees and gone to the small flowing stream to refresh himself and wash off some of the jungle grime. Overhead he could hear the chattering of the red howler monkey which had kept him from sleeping his first two night in the forest and though he found them annoying he knew their presence probably meant that he was in no danger from the puma, ocelot and jaguars which roamed the forest. As he was washing his face he heard the chattering of the monkeys grow almost frantic. He stopped and by instinct picked up his machete and swung around to see what was behind him. Within pouncing distance stood a huge jaguar which had bounded down effortlessly from it's twenty-five foot perch and landed only a few meters from him. It looked at him bearing a menacing deadly grin. Paco knew that if he attempted to run the jaguar would just jump him from behind. He slowly backed away into the stream step by step keeping eye contact with the beast. Overhead he chattering had grown louder and louder as the monkeys gathered around to watch the battle between the jungle boy and their nemesis. Paco waded out further in the water hoping he wasn't wandering into a river python and further danger. The jaguar took a few cautious steps forward and looked at Paco standing up to his waist in water. After watching for a few moments he decided the meal wasn't worth getting wet over and wandered off. Paco found some figs and nuts on some of the trees and slowly devoured them cautiously looking around. He got in the hammock clutching his machete said his prayers and went fast asleep.

The next morning Paco was glad to awake alive. He knew he had been saved by his quick instinctive thinking and wondered if the fatigue of continually battling the jungle vegetation was going to finally wear him out. His urge to survive to get to the United States the promised land where everyone had cars, houses, and jobs was even greater. The memories of his older brother being shot by guerrillas were still painful. He wanted nothing to do with his country. He wanted to live in a country where all men were free where the poor had the same rights as the rich where there was liberty and justice for all.

Less than three hours after he got up he wandered into the Guatemala countryside. He made his way into a small town and found the bus station where he purchased a ticket for the main city. He knew that it would take day of bus trips from city to city to finally reach Mexico. He spent his money very frugally buying a blanket, some mangoes and a few tortillas from a street vendor.

The bus barely looked like it had any room. On the top it was covered with cages, bags and boxes as it served as a delivery vehicle for those living in the many outlying areas. He pushed his way to the back where he sat by a window catching the scenery around him .He could see that those in Guatemala were not much better off than the Salvadorians. He noticed that most of their buildings were intact that the constant threat of destruction by earthquakes was non-existent. No one paid him much mind. He knew that if he got into any conversations they would recognize that he wasn't a native so he avoided eye contact with all of them.

The bus pulled to a stop. A federal guard armed with a submachine gun came on to the bus to look things over. he made a cursory glance at some paperwork and got off waving them through the border crossing. Paco didn't know what he would do or say if they caught him. He had heard most governments just extracted a few dollars and let the aliens flow further north. They knew they wouldn't be staying in their country and were happy to see them pass through and collect a small tariff for their trouble. It was nightfall when they arrived in Guatemala City. He didn't want to spend money for lodging figuring that he would need it to cross the border into America so he took his blanket and walked toward the National Museum where he camped out under a bus. He was up early brushing off dirt when he was approached by a policeman who was making the rounds guarding the museum ground. Paco lowered his head and walked towards the street. Nothing was said to him though he grew very nervous.

The bus terminal was much bigger than he had ever seen. He went to the window and asked for a ticket to Mexico City. The ticket agent asked him for identification. He couldn't produce a photo id. She instructed him that he needed a photo ID to travel out of the country and directed him to a passport photo shop next door. He went over to the photo shop. The owner was a middle-aged man with severe pock marks on his face. Paco told him what he needed and the man directed him to sit while he took a Polaroid of him and attached it to an id. The man charged him $50 U.S. Paco balked at paying it but saw there was no other way. He was told the ID would safely get him through Mexico. It was a Student ID that was honored by the Mexican authorities. The lady gave him no trouble when she saw the student Visa and promptly issued him ticket to Mexico City. The bus was stopped at the border and everyone had to get out and present identification. Paco presented his ID and told the officer he was going to Mexico City to study at the University. The guard looked at him with disbelief but waved him through. Several other passengers were not so lucky and were detained. The bus continued on the fifteen hour journey stopping occasionally for bathroom breaks, fuel and food. It went up and down mountainous roads and descended into Mexico City about midnight. As the passengers disgoured from the bus Paco could see the city was swarming with people. He tied his machete to his leg and held the rest of his meager belonging close to his body as he wandered from the bus station hopelessly in search of a place to sleep. There were no parks just streets, small shops and hovels piled on top of one another. Paco sought refuge in a diner and ordered a small meal. He was discreet not to pay for his meal from his main money pouch. The blanket he carried and his peasant-style clothing marked him as an immigrant from El Salvador. A young street kid not more than ten approached him and offered him the sexual services of his sister for a few pesos. Paco, shocked, declined and gave the kid some change. The kid came back with his sister who tried to entice him to go outside. Paco refused and was happy to see them leave quickly when the Mexican Federales showed up for late night snacks. They didn't give Paco a second glance. The night passed very slowly and Paco had to struggle to keep awake. As the dawn light filtered in through the polluted canopy which continually hung over Mexico City Paco made his way back down through the traffic towards the bus station. Paco had never seen so many people. Even though it was barely dawn the streets were full of buses, taxis, carts, wagons, bicycles and motorbikes. Paco had to stop and ask several times before he found his way back to the bus station. He nervously approached the window and asked for a ticket to Nogales, Sonora. Laredo a town on the border of Mexico and Arizona. Without being asked he offered his student ID. The lady glanced at it very quickly and motioned towards the police as if warning him to have caution. Paco saw there was four hours until his bus left for Hermosillo and decided he was sticking out too much with his rural clothing. He left the blanket and water bottle in the terminal and walked down to a small indoor flea market more of a large tin roofed enclosure with open tarp-covered sides. He negotiated the purchase of a new pair of jeans, a pair of boots and and western style shirt. He also bought himself a small shoulder bag with the logo Mexico University embroidered on it. He stuffed his old clothes in the bag and purchased some food and a few comic book for the long ride to the border. On the way out of the swap mart a vendor stopped him and convinced him to buy a small Casio watch. He had never spent so much money at one time in his life - nearly fifty dollars. He knew it was important to blend in and look like a local and stay away from the Mexican Police. The word got around the swap mart that he was dropping money and within minutes all the vendors were coming up to him offering him bargains encouraging him to come into their booths. It was hard for him to tear himself away. He nearly had to push through them to get back to the street. His spending hadn't gone unnoticed by three young gang members dressed in baggy pants and wearing scarfs tied on their heads. He didn't notice that they followed him out of the swap mart. As he turned the corner there was an alley where several cars had been abandoned and stripped to their skeletal remains. He felt a sharp object in his back and they forced him behind the vehicle. He turned to face them and saw they were no more than twelve years old each. As the one was going through his bag Paco leaned down and with surprising swiftness drew out the small machete that he had tied to his calf he swung it around at them in a slow arc and they jumped back in surprise as he demanded his bag back. He picked up the few clothes and food items they had strewn on the ground and went back to the bus station to await the departure. He glanced around nervously hoping they wouldn't be back.

He found that people were no longer staring at him. His new clothes helped him to blend in and took away the fresh off the farm look he had been carrying. The bus trip to Hermosillo seemed to take 20 hours. The bus was an old style Trailways bus that had probably seen it's full tour a duty in the U.S. and been sold at auction to the local bus service. The seats were tattered and there was a continual diesel smell as they chugged along. Paco felt an elation in his heart as he realized his dream of going to the United States was going to become a reality. It was early in the morning when they pulled into Hermosillo and his departure to Nogales was going to be three hours away. The pace in Hermosillo was much more relaxed. He saw gangs of youth scattered around, Many were sniffing glue and paint and quite a few offered to sell him drugs. He stayed close to the terminal not daring to venture out. He breathed in surprised at how dry the air felt on his lungs. A stray dog walked by and stopped to sniff his feet. He bent down to pet it and looked in his pack and gave the dog part of an uneaten burrito. The dog gulped it down without even chewing. Paco remembered the village dogs and how much he loved to play with them. He was sad he might never again see his village but he knew to stay there would not give him any type of a future. That his village represented the past and United States represented the future. A police car drove by slowly Paco paid it no mind reading from his comic book on the bench.
The trip from Hermisillo to Nogales took less than eight hours. The streets were packed with trucks going across to United States. Paco was a little frightened by the nearness to the border and the foreboding size of the sharp barbed wire fences stretched endless each way on the horizon. He had dreamed of going across one day but nothing had prepared him for the tension it seemed to bring to his heart. As he was standing wondering what to do a young man approached him and asked him if he was trying to get over the border. The coyote told him they would drive him across near Bisbee, Arizona where he could catch a bus to Phoenix. He persuaded him that it was much safer than crossing in Nogales and swore that almost no one ever got caught because the border patrol concentrated their personnel in the high traffic areas. The agreed upon price was $600 nearly all the money he had left. He asked what the price of a ticket was into Phoenix and he realized he'd have just enough to get to Phoenix. The young man got on a cell phone and less than two minutes later a box van pulled up alongside the cub. Paco got in. There were six other people mostly young males like himself. He was shown a seat and told that he had to pay before getting out in Arizona. There were about ten gallon jugs of water that seems to slosh about as the van headed out of town to their border crossing. After about three hours of driving. They pulled over. Everyone got out and they were asked to pay. The man showed them the border fence and told them it was Arizona and Bisbee was only about 30 miles away. Just as they were collecting the money for the final stretch of the journey a helicopter started to descend towards them and a voice told them they were under arrest for illegal entry into the United States. Paco looked for the bottle of water and grabbed it. He scrambled into a wash nearby and started crawling away hoping to avoid detection. Each time he heard the rotors of the helicopter he hid in the bush nearly wrapping himself around the thorny desert vegetation. He made good progress all night as he walked north in the direction he hoped lay Bisbee. When daylight came he decided it was too risky to travel and found a small cave in the side of a arroyo and dug himself in. He slept from seven in the morning till six at night and when dusk settled in he started again. He was careful to ration his water. He took his machete and tried to cut some fruit off the prickly pear cactus and managed to cut away several unripened pieces. He chewed on the bitter fruit sucking what nourishment he could. He found a package of chicklets and a few pieces of hard candy in his pants pockets and rationed them as well. Each time he though he heard a truck or copter he hid. Before long he found some blacktop and wandered along it keeping an eye in both directions for vehicles. There was a sign attached on barbed wire that said keep out. He heeded the warning and kept walking around it heading north by northwest. Ahead he spotted some cattle. They were grazing and he could see someone had put out water for them. He stopped to wash himself off and refill his bleach bottle. He pulled out his compass to check to see if he was still heading the right direction. He was exhausted and found a small riverbank to sleep on. The constant hooting of the desert owls and other night birds kept him half awake his sleep was quite restless. He awoke to find he was in a dump at the edge of town. There were pilings of rocks and old mining equipment all about and he realized that sometime ago someone must have worked the ground digging out something valuable. He stopped and picked up a large blue nugget encased in chunks of rock. He had no idea it was turquoise. In a cursory examination he tossed it down and walked the rest of the way into town staying away from the main road. He cleaned up in a restroom behind a gas station and asked directions to the bus station from one of the fellows changing tires. The fellow could see he had just crossed the desert and gave him a glass of cold water and a ripe banana. Paco was a man of few words but his smile reflected how grateful he was.