Page 44 of The Crush
Typical government building, I suppose. A closed-mouth smile to hide sharpened teeth.
Head north from there and eventually you’ll hit San Antonio, Austin, Dallas. Head south and you’ll hit the border in ten minutes. Swing east and you’ll reach the international airport in fifteen.
Hard to beat as far as locations. Centrally located in the middle of nowhere, so you can easily get just about anywhere. Especially convenient if anywhere is where you are hoping to go.
Daniel joined the DEA the year I turned ten, trading in his La Orilla police badge for one with a little more weight to it.
It was the same year his mamá passed.
After he returned from training at Quantico, Daniel didn’t come around as much as he once had. Also trading crowded familydinners for cold cups of coffee at his desk even when he wasn’t out on assignment.
Funny how my mother always “just happened to be nearby” to check in on him on the days when Tadeo called in the morning. A conversation she always took in the kitchen, the long spiral cord stretching out and then twisting tight as she walked back and forth.
She would do the same after Daniel left, only then she made her trips to church afterward instead of to the office. Lighting a candle as she closed her eyes and prayed with a red ribbon in her hand.
That was her vigil. In time, I’d find my own.
Thirty-Five
Isabel
Sunday, October 9, 1994
In my books,thisis the part they always say moves in slow motion. There’s time before the blow, time to brace for impact. And then there’s an acceleration. But not now. Now, everything is already moving too fast.
I can see them from the church door. Daniel standing toe-to-toe with Aarón, a set trap ready to spring. In an instant, I’m running, my footfalls hitting parking lot gravel, loose rock, and patches of grass unsteady beneath my church heels.
I already know. I can see it in the sneer on my brother’s face, the tight fists at Daniel’s side. It’s like I can hear it all play out before I watch it. Sound somehow traveling faster than light. The words Aarón says. The inevitable resoundingsnapof Daniel’s fist as it connects. The collective gasp from churchgoers. The dull thud of my brother hitting the ground.
Too late.I already know it’s too late.
Aarón doesn’t stay down long. He’s back on his feet before I manage to take even three more steps, and he’s every bit thestar quarterback he used to be as he rushes forward, his shoulder slamming right into Daniel’s ribs on his left side.
I can swear I feel that, too. The impact, how heavy it lands. All those times I imagined him getting hurt…how awful it would be? Seeing it happen is worse.
Daniel manages to stay on his feet as he absorbs the blow, skidding back on the loose ground. Gabe is shouting nearby, yelling at Aarón while he blocks off Eli’s interference at the same time. I look for my parents and Tadeo and see that they have also started to run from across the parking lot. But they’re still a ways off, whereas my head start means I arrive right as Daniel lands another hit, his elbow striking below my brother’s eye.
“Danny!”
They’ve shifted during the struggle, putting me closest to Aarón as I reach them. When Daniel sees me, he holds up a hand for me to stay back, eyes pleading with me to do it, but I keep moving.
However, on this at least, he and Aarón seem to be on the same page.
Before Aarón throws a punch of his own, my brother shouts my name and puts out an arm to warn me from getting any closer. But too occupied with his own situation to risk a glance at mine first, he misjudges how close I am, as well as the force required to keep me back. The combination of that, my heels, and the uneven ground sends me sprawling.
My ankle twists on the fall, my hands and knees scraping on gravel when I try to catch myself. I have barely enough time to note the concern on Aarón’s face when he looks over his shoulder and sees me on the ground before it’s wiped away by a pained grunt as Daniel barrels into him.
I remember now a conversation I once had with a classmate in my chemistry lab, pretending I was merely killing time while my experiment ran. I asked the ROTC student what training different branches (say, for example, the DEA) receive, trying to keep that morning’s headlines out of my head and the fear out of my voice.
“Oh, um…let me think,” he said, scooting his chair a little closer. “Well, they deal with drugs, so…that? I’ve heard those guys are pretty intense. They go through basic training and stuff, too.”
“What does that involve?”
He shrugged. “Like firearms and surveillance and—”
“Explosives? Bombs?”
His brow creased. “Probably. We learn about all kinds of dangerous stuff.”
