Twenty-One
Miguel Ayala pulled up in an older model Nissan Sentra missing three of its four hubcaps. When Hatch placed the call to Ayala, the newspaper man answered immediately and had then given her directions of where to go.
Ayala had told Hatch to go to the San Antonio Nogales Road until it dead ended in a T intersection with Highway 2. He then instructed her to take a right and travel southwest on the two-lane highway for several miles until she came across the Mission of Guadalupe, a Christian mission devoted to caring for the people of the Rancho San Rafael region.
Hatch waited in the parking lot with Letty for over an hour before Ayala arrived. Hatch figured the van she'd stolen had some type of GPS transponder or way of tracking it. Even though she didn't locate one when she pulled to the side of the road after fleeing the nightclub, it didn't mean it didn't have one. Better safe than sorry. Plus, even without a transponder pinging their location, it wouldn't be long until the many eyes of the cartel spotted their blacked-out van.
Hatch was relieved to now be sitting safely inside of the Nissan while Letty slept curled in the backseat. Ayala must have been thinking along the same lines as Hatch because he’d picked a location in the opposite direction, where they headed now. They’d passed the T intersection on the left a few miles ago and proceeded in a north by northwesterly direction on Highway 2. They were a little over an hour into a four-hour drive before they reached Janos, a small town only a few hours east of Juarez. Ayala had a contact there who could help Letty get back to her family.
Hatch also figured it was a good place to regroup away from Nogales so she could figure out her next move and hopefully get word on Angela’s location. They’d driven silently since leaving the mission's lot. Miguel realized both Letty and Hatch needed some time to recover both mentally and physically from the ordeal at the nightclub.
With three hours left in the drive, Ayala broke the silence. He leaned closer and in a low whisper said, "I drove by the nightclub on my way to meet you. When you said you were going to burn it down, I didn't know you meant literally."
"Truth be known, neither did I," Hatch gave a soft chuckle.
"Sorry about that information I gave you." Ayala's solemn tone was reflected in the man's face.
"The information you provided is the reason that young girl is sleeping soundly in back rather than tied to a bed. And you were right about the info." Hatch thumbed toward the girl in the back of the Nissan wearing Hatch's old clothes given to the kind-hearted Azul and now handed down to the girl. "She does have red hair—well reddish. And she's just as deserving of being saved as Angela. I just wish I could have gotten all of those girls to come with me, but…" Hatch let the rest go unsaid.
"Sometimes we can't save them all." Ayala guided the Nissan through a rough patch of road.
Ayala brought the shaking vehicle under control. A gold watch with an emerald green face jingled loosely at Ayala's left wrist. He caught Hatch eyeing it and turned it to her, bringing it closer to her face so she could better see it. "It was my father's," he said, happy to shift subjects, as was Hatch. "He was a good man, an honest man. He chose the path of peace and I, one of war. After I hung up my guns, I saw the value in his path and started wearing it as a reminder. Sadly, my father never got to see me change course. I wear it to honor him. It's like having him with me. Silly, I guess."
"Not at all." Hatch thought about her own father and how she honored him by living the code that he had taught her, help good people and punish those who hurt them. Easy to remember, harder to follow. Hatch's life's journey had proven that at least that much was true.
"I'm sure your father would be proud," Hatch said, bringing a smile to Ayala's face, "And I, for one, think the girl in the back would agree."
Ayala flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror at the girl on his backseat. "Ernesto and his wife will get her safely home. What you did back there was very brave."
"I couldn't have done it without you,” Hatch replied.
“I'm hoping that Ernesto may have more information about the girl you're looking for. Just as the cartel has eyes and ears everywhere, so does Ernesto. And maybe one of them can point us in the right direction."
"Us? Look Miguel, I don't want to get you involved beyond what I already have."
"The minute I picked up that phone and got into this car to come get you, I knew what I was letting myself in for. The us part is not up for discussion."
"Alright." An extra set of eyes would've been beneficial at the nightclub.
Ayala picked up speed and they motored off into the dark unlit expanse of highway. "I just hope we're not too late."
Twenty-Two
Hatch finished the last morsel of the sweet cake Ayala brought for her and the sleeping Letty. It was made by his wife using a secret recipe, and one Hatch agreed was worth protecting. She washed the moist cakey cornbread down with a bottle of Propel Fitness Water. The blueberry gave the food in her mouth a funny aftertaste.
For a moment Hatch thought Ayala might've been moonlighting as a PR spokesperson for the water distributer. He prattled on about the bottle he'd given her, explaining that this particular bottle of the electrolyte-infused drink was low calorie and not zero calorie like their others. Ayala told her Propel made a zero-calorie drink, but that he drinks the Propel Vitamin Boost, which has ten extra calories from the organic cane sugar and Stevia it’s sweetened with.
He had tapped his gut when he said it, laughing about not being the man he used to be. He later divulged his love of the water came from an insatiable sweet tooth. He used to drink lemonade by the pitcher full. His wife turned him onto the fitness water when she got tired of letting out his pants.
Hatch had seen it with some of her friends after leaving the service. They'd put on a few pounds, often proving true the age-old adage, a good soldier makes a fat civilian. She'd known more than a few hardened combat vets to add a little weight around the middle after separation. And then watched as they fought like hell to get back what was lost, often never quite getting to where they once were. Hatch had a different philosophy upon exiting the military. If you always maintain your readiness, you never have to get it back.
The last of the fluid hit her belly. Her stomach gurgled, expressing its discontent loud enough for the man who'd just generously provided a meal made at his wife's hand to hear she was still hungry. A low in a battle was always a time to refuel. And she needed more for the battle to come. She'd learned her threshold, after pushing herself under the most challenging of conditions. Through pain, Hatch found her limitations greatly reduced when she had fuel in the tank. Beyond the physical benefits, it helped with mental acuity, something Hatch valued above all else. She eyed the indicator light just illuminating the yellow E next to a gas can icon. Ayala shot her a knowing smile and rubbed the cracked seam of his sun-damaged dashboard.
"Don't worry. She'll get us there. That light usually gets me about thirty miles. Ernesto's is only about twenty miles from here. Eight miles beyond that is a small crop town with a gas station. I can fill it up after we get young Letty settled in."
They drove on for the next twenty miles and the Nissan held up. And as Ayala said, they'd come upon the turn off to Ernesto's home. He turned right off the main road, exchanging it for an unfinished road that led to a small house with a rickety front porch and a tin roof. The exterior walls of the house were a deep burgundy, and in the dark, Hatch couldn't tell if the color was from paint or rust. A railing extended along a short front porch that had several folding chairs scattered around a small table with a chess board in play. A hand-carved mahogany queen had the opposing king in checkmate.