Mexico - 12. Chapter 12 of 16

“You all right?” was the first thing Mark asked.
“Yeah,” I said, mainly relieved. “You?”
“A little terrified.”
I laughed. “Tell me about it.”
And he laughed.
“You’re really okay?” he went on. “They kept hitting you.”
I tried to check. But even though I was sitting, I couldn’t reach my head, with my hands tied to my knees.
I tried untying my feet first, since my hands could easily reach those ropes. But working in the dark was hard. And the more I moved, the more the twine tore my wrists. When I asked Mark how he was doing, he said, “Probably not much better.”
“How’re you with your teeth?” I asked.
He laughed. “That won’t work. I’d probably break something. Then we’d need a dentist, too. But maybe if I tried untying your hands... Or you tried untying mine…”
We tried that for a while, still unable to see.
“Any idea what time it is?” Mark asked. “When the sun comes up?”
“You was the one out walking the other night,” I said. “What time did it get light?”
“I really didn’t walk till about six,” he admitted. “Didn’t want to get mugged.”
That amused us for a moment.
Eventually, I realized we had light. At least, light available. I worked my way to my feet and hobbled over to the car. I turned on the headlights. The car doors were open, but the interior lights were off. The headlights were brighter, anyway.
Seeing what we were doing really helped. As did teeth. That’s how I finally got through the twine holding my wrists. Then I was able to free my ankles. Mark tried chewing through his twine but with less luck. But we finally worked his hands free.
My wrists were a mess. My knees and ankles were protected by my jeans, but Mark’s ankles were slightly cut. His wrists were bleeding, too, though it was only after he got out of the car that the twine was wrapped around him. So his arms were all right. The moment we both got free and stood, he grabbed me and held on for almost a minute.
“I really wasn’t sure there,” he said. “Thanks for staying so calm.”
“Me?” I said, laughing. “It was you cracking jokes that helped. And the fact they were just kids.”
“They really were kids,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Kids with balls.”
That’s when he broke away.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again.
“Yeah.” Though I hesitated. “But I sure could use a drink.”
He laughed at that, looking around. “We could use everything.”
We go back in the car, to see if anything was left. The kids had taken everything. Well, almost. My wallet and Traveler’s Cheques were still on the floor in front of the passenger seat.
“They get your wallet?” I asked Mark.
He quickly pulled it from the front pocket of his shorts. “Never even looked for it,” he said. And he flopped it opened. “And I have much more cash that you did. Though I left most of my credit cards home.”
“I don’t think they wanted plastic. I think they really wanted the car.”
“What happened with that?” Mark asked. “Do we need a mechanic?”
“I don’t think so. I think, when I tried to get away -- when I realized it wasn’t the friendly cops -- I cranked the steering wheel too hard. It gets stuck that way. Kind of locks. You can turn the key and the lights will come on. You can honk the horn and play the radio. But the engine won’t start.”
“Good thing you didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, well…” I laughed. “You need to push the steering wheel back, hard, to free it.”
“Want to try that? Just to be sure.”
“I need the keys first.”
He laughed. “You don’t have a spare?”
I grinned, though I knew he couldn’t see that. “I’ve got two spare keys. But one was in my knapsack. And the other was in my sports coat pocket.”
He thought that was pretty funny. “Guess we have to search the fields then. Guess we have to wait till it’s light.”
The dashboard clock said 4:53. Looking at it, Mark said, “Damn.”
“What?”
“They got my watch, too. I just thought about that.”
“Where was it?”
“In one of the bags with my clothes. I almost put it on last night, but that wouldn’t have stopped them.”
“They must have gotten mine, as well. It was in the glove compartment.”
But my watch cost a hundred bucks.
“Sorry,” I told Mark.
“It’s okay. It was too pretentious anyway. Though it was a present from Anne.”
I’d guessed that one almost right.
For the next hour, as the sun slowly worked its way up, the dumber Mark and I looked. He was mainly sitting there in wrinkled Mexican shorts. I was hanging out in pair of old jeans. We had no shirts, no shoes, and I was much too aware of his body as we aimlessly talked. When it got light enough to search the field, we got out of the car.
“Where do you think he threw them?” Mark asked.
“I’m not really sure.”
But I stood about where I thought the kid had been standing. He was at the side of my car away from the road. It was a huge field. Actually, there was nothing but fields around us, not even a house. They were furrowed and planted. It was mostly low green.
“I think he was standing here,” I said. “And he threw the keys that way.”
Mark and I looked. They could be anywhere.
“You start left, and I’ll start right,” Mark directed. "We’ll work out from center."
“Ouch,” I replied, as soon as we stepped into the field.
There were burrs. And sharp ends of stalks that hadn’t been uprooted. And rocks. We had to move carefully.
As the sky got brighter, we hunted. And we would have looked like idiots if anyone had been around to see. Like a couple of stoned, stupid Americanos. Half dressed. Staring at the ground. Occasionally licking our wrists. Birds flew by. Bugs bombed us. Birds occasionally snatched the bugs. Once, a pickup drove past, coming from the direction opposite town. We tried to flag it down, but the driver only grinned and waved back
“I guess it’s very normal to see stranded, stupid Americanos waving at dawn,” I told Mark.
He laughed. “Maybe we’re overdressed.”
We went back to looking.
“How far do you think that kid could throw?” Mark asked, after some time.
“It depends. He didn’t look like much of a pitcher.”
Mark picked up a small rock. He weighed it in his hands, then dropped it and found another. He weighed that, seemed to approve, then arched it high, into the field.
“You’re not trying for a shut-out,” I joked.
He tried again, less forcefully. Found another rock and tried throwing like a twelve-year-old.
“Further,” I coached.
He tried a third time, and we both considered where it landed.
“So we don’t need to look further than that,” he decided. “ Same routine, working out from center.”
“I should have been watching the kid better,” I nearly apologized.
“Who could see anything in that light? I didn’t see where the keys went, either.”
The land was mainly flat, with an occasional tree. When the sun started up, I thought I could see all the way to town. But it was just a rise, with some brush.
“You couldn’t have kept a spare key in your wallet?” Mark joked at one point.
“Actually, I had one there for years. One of those flat, plastic things. The first time I needed it, it cracked.”
He laughed. But our first approach at rock throwing was a bust. We found other rocks. Both threw this time. After another round of looking, Mark suddenly jumped.
“What?” I called. He was maybe twenty feet away. “Find something?”
“Rats,” he said.
“Great.”
We laughed, but I was surprised. I’d been expecting snakes.
“We should be thankful the kids left your wallet,” he said eventually.
“I was even luckier. I almost brought my passport on this trip.”
“We were only staying a week. I didn’t even think to pack mine.”
He jumped again. This time, a huge bird suddenly flew from the nearby scrub.
“Probably lives on the rats,” I cracked.
Mark only laughed when he’d survived the shock.
The bird’s wingspan was maybe six feet wide, and I wished I had its view. No matter how we looked, the keys stayed lost, and I was trying to remember how to hot wire a car. I’d never done it, but it seemed easy in movies.
As we searched, the fields seemed to get larger. Some of that was the sun, getting brighter. We could see more and more. I was beginning to figure we’d have to hobble into town. Try and make ourselves welcome this time and find someone to start my car. That was gonna be fun to negotiate in Spanish. It was only then that I realized my Spanish textbook was gone, too. Just when I was getting over that, Mark came up behind me, grinning. After a moment, he tossed my keys from behind his back.
I hugged him. Immediately. Then immediately backed off. I’d learned something in that first hug that I wasn’t ready to think about yet.
Once I put the key into the ignition and wrenched the steering wheel back, the engine started instantly. I cut it as quickly.
“Why?” Mark asked.
“Let me check for damage. I don’t know what that kid was doing with the engine.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about cars.”
“I know easy stuff.”
And everything under the hood seemed all right. Belts, hoses, and caps were all intact. Since my driver’s window was broken out, we carefully stepped around the glass, which seemed to have gone everywhere. But the pieces were round, and dull enough not to hurt the tires. Once I determined everything was fine, we were ready to go on our way.
Of course, we didn’t have a map.
“That one was too big, anyhow,” Mark pointed out.
“It was better than nothing.”
“Well, we know which way we came. And we can follow the sun south. We just better mark the spot before we leave.”
“Why?”
“So we can show the police.”
“What?”
“The cops. We’ve got to tell them.”
I thought about that. “They won’t want to know,” I said. “From what I’ve heard, they hardly care. I didn’t even think about going to them.”
Mark frowned. “We’ve got to.”
“This isn’t LA,” I said and immediately realized how stupid that sounded.
“It’s got to be reported.”
“I’ll call the police tonight. Later. From wherever we end up.”
“It doesn’t work that way. And we’re as safe as we’re gonna be, if that’s what you’re worried about. Nothing else is gonna happen here.”
I looked at him for a moment, then laughed. “You would be a lawyer.”
He grinned back at me. “You really wouldn’t have reported this?”
“No. We did something dumb. We were warned. A lot. And we still did something stupid. Who’s gonna give us sympathy?”
He didn’t say anything to that. Just looked around.
“There’s this tree,” he started.
It looked like any other tree. Though there weren’t that many around.
“It should be easy enough to recognize.”
It was borderline weird.
“And there’s this gully. And all the glass on the ground,” he continued. “And we’re only... how far from town?”
“About a mile,” I said. “I’ll check again as we go back.”
I just wanted to be on the road.
So we drove into town. It was slightly further than a mile, and a little friendlier than it had been last night. And maybe people are happier in the light. We found a small market we hadn’t seen the night before. It was mainly some planks over a couple of horses in front of a building. But it had a little bit of food, so Mark and I were able to get something to eat.
Both of us tried talking with the owner. She was helpful enough but hard to understand. So neither of us made much sense of what she said. And, on one level, she clearly dismissed us as dumb tourists.
The worst news for Mark was that the nearest police station was over an hour away.
“We’re going that way anyhow,” he said. “South.”
I wasn’t about argue. I was more interested in getting some clothes. The market mainly had food.
We grabbed bread and fruit for breakfast, and added a couple of Mexican sodas. Mark thought we had directions to the main road, but I was less sure. I’d have to drive to drive barefoot, which I’d done before, no matter how illegal, so I wasn’t worried. But it would have been nice to get a pair of sandals.
The shop owner kept looking at us. Not really staring but whispering to a young girl who never left her side. Maybe she was her daughter. And neighbors kept appearing, in shifts, again to look and whisper. Some were kids, but none looked like the four boys.
And soon, we were hunting for the highway. Which we eventually found. Though it took a while. As soon as we saw one, we stopped at a slightly larger market, for T-shirts and sandals. But they didn’t sell maps, so we tried to memorize the one that was on their wall.
“This is thirty years old,” I told Mark. “You think much has changed?”
“We just need to head south. It’s the next big town.”
“Great. You can find the police, and I’ll get my window fixed. I can’t lock the car till then.”
He grinned. “What’s left to steal?” But he knew someone could take the car. And he did say, “The cops’ll want to talk with both of us.”
“I’m more worried about the window. I’ll bet it has to be ordered.”
“It can’t be made? At least, temporarily?”
I hadn’t thought about that. Though when I did, I remembered it was safety glass. And I wasn’t sure how that had to be cut.
The drive was slow, but it wasn’t far -- not in miles and kilometers. There were dead animals along the road. Mostly dogs and goats. The occasional chicken. As we reached the outskirts of the first large town, I pulled into a gas station. We had half a tank, but I needed information. Mark watched the car, while I went for a mechanic.
“Excuse,” I said to a young guy working on a car. He looked about my age. The car was older. “¿Sabe... usted... donde... yo... puedo...”
He grinned. “I speak Inglés, señor.”
“Great! Do you know where I can get a broken window fixed?”
But I said it too quickly. He smiled and said, “Not fast, señor.”
I began again. Then, slowly, in English and Spanish, we worked it out. “La ventana... del mi automóvil... es rota. Smashed, actually,” I added, hoping he understood.
He nodded.
“Deseo... nueva... ventana... Is that really window?”
He looked toward my car, then solemnly walked to where it was parked.
Mark smiled and made pleasant noises between two worlds.
The mechanic felt the empty window frame, as though laying on hands. He measured it with his fingers.
“Does he have one?” Mark asked.
The guy touched a sharp edge. Cut his finger.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t sue.”
The man sucked his finger, smiled, then sadly shook his head.
Not for all the weed in Mexico, I translated. He grinned. But he gave us directions to another mechanic.
That drive was only a few blocks. As slow. There were people, and animals, and cars. All jumbled together like party mix. We stopped by a uniformed officer casually directing traffic. Actually, he seemed to be observing it.
“Excuse,” I began, seemingly apologizing for everything, “¿Donde está el estacíon de la policía?”
He said something very fast that neither Mark nor I understood.
“Excuse,” I repeated.
Before he could reply, Mark leaned past me.
“Por favor, señor,” he began, sticking to the easy words he knew. “¿Donde está la policía?” As the officer started quickly to repeat himself, all the while merrily grinning, Mark produced a ten dollar bill. The man slowed down.
“Poco Inglés,“ he said, almost sweetly.
“Just slowly,” Mark said, drawing his hands apart, as if in charades.
The officer told us. Slowly. Then he blew his whistle and stopped traffic for us, so we could turn.
“I hate doing that,” Mark admitted. “But money is useful.”
The center of town looked postcard familiar. Huge, sandstone buildings, like WPA projects. A church. A courthouse. Grand steps. Smaller stores, pushcarts, all aging in the demanding sun. We squinted. We hadn’t bought sunglasses. I pulled over, intending to drop Mark off. We were surrounded immediately by maybe a dozen kids. All carrying buckets and rags.
“Wash your car, señor?”
“¿Lave su automóvil?”
“¿Lave sus ventanas?”
The questions kept coming.
“We probably should let them,” Mark decided.
“I figured I’d find this mechanic.”
“The cops’ll want to see you.”
“I’ll come back when I’m done.”
He looked at me. “It would be simpler if you came in first.”
He said it patiently, so I considered it. He was the lawyer. And in some ways, I was beginning to realize, he was smarter than I was.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Then pay the kids.”
I was figuring on that, too. I had an unlockable car. They were the local mafia.
And they kept shouting eagerly. So it was all a question of “How much?”
“¿Cuanto cuesta?” I asked.
Various answers, all yelled, and I couldn’t tell them apart. Mark picked out the biggest kid. “¿Cuanta cuesta?” he kind of repeated.
“Diez.”
“¿Pesos?”
“Sí. Diez pesos.”
Cheap. Ten bucks. Mexican. Mark double-checked by showing them ten fingers.
“Offer them more,” he advised.
“Yo... give...” I still couldn’t come up with right tense for give. “Trenta pesos.”
I flashed thirty fingers and offered the money that Mark handed me
The kids grabbed for it.
I held the money high, then bargained on. “Usted... stay...” The morning heat was wiping out my vocabulary.
“...no vamos...” Mark offered.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure of nothing.”
“Usted... no vamos -- stay -- con el automóvil. ¿Sí?”
“Sí!” they all shouted, and I turned again to the biggest kid.
“¿Comprende? I asked.
“Sí!”
“¿Absolutemente?”
“Sí!”
He leaped and grabbed the pesos from my hands. The kid should play basketball. Then, as he shoved the money into his shorts, he started ordering the smaller kids around. As Mark and I watched, they began washing the van, with the big kid continually shouting orders.
“Think it’ll be here when we get back?”
“¿Quién sabe?” Mark poked. “As the Mexicans say. But when in doubt -- overtip.”