David Corbett - Do They Know I'm Running

“How you like the place?” Happy glanced around like he was thinking of buying. “You wouldn’t believe what they want for it.”

Roque wondered where Godo was, the thought of seeing him again cropping up in his mind like a stone in his shoe these past few days. Missing him, wanting no part of him. First their mother, then Tío, who to blame? Who else?

Happy went on, “Came here to watch the place for the guy who owns it. Can’t figure out if we were too early or too late.”

Roque heard it. We. “So Godo’s here somewhere.”

From behind, a thundering: “Call the law!” He filled the doorway, shouldering a duffel. A ragged slide down his arm to the floor-whatever was inside clattered dully. Noticing the look on everyone’s face, he grinned. “Hold the applause.”

Roque felt a sudden coil of inner heat, so much held in check over the last few weeks, all of it now boiling up. “You sorry motherfucker!”

“Stop sniveling.” Godo spread his arms. “Time for abrazos.”

Roque didn’t move. He couldn’t. “Stop fucking around.” His glance darted toward Lupe, who seemed baffled. Me too, he wanted to tell her.

Godo approached. “Who says I’m fucking around?”

“You’re being a dick.”

“Because I want a hug from my hermanito?”

Before Roque could answer Godo swallowed him up in his arms, a warm musty funk rising from his body as he rocked a little back and forth. In a whisper, so no one else could hear: “I know you’re fucked up about losing Tío. Don’t carry it with you. Let that shit go.”

For a moment, Roque couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Who was this person, what had he done with Godo? He swallowed a surge of weepiness and managed to say, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Godo pressed his head against Roque’s. “Whole lotta sorry to go around. Not just you. It was all of us. We all lost Tío. Don’t carry that alone.” He gave two fierce slaps to Roque’s back and let him go. Loudly, for the others: “There. That so fucking unbearable?”

Dazedly, Roque embraced Happy as well, for the sake of symmetry if nothing else. Introductions went around. Samir, as always impatient, asked if they were crossing that night.

“I need to talk to you about something,” Happy said. The way it came out, everyone sank. “The people we arranged things through to begin with-I know, we don’t owe them nothing at this point but hear me out-they know something about you. An American showed up, talked to the patrón who runs things along this stretch of the border. You’re supposed to get handed over to him, this American. He represents some company out of Dallas.”

Samir’s deep-set eyes drew back even further. He clutched his bag. “No.”

“There’s all variety of shit going on here behind the scenes, Samir, I can’t control none of that. But Godo and me, we can’t go home no more. You don’t go with these people, this honcho from Dallas, we’re up for grabs.”

Samir looked like a touch might knock him down. “I saved your life.”

Happy looked away. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about that, actually.”

“Ask me-”

“Roque tells me you’re damn handy with a gun. Funny how I never saw that side of you. Not even when we were in the middle of a firefight.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

Lupe, sensing a wrong turn somewhere, looked to Roque for reassurance but he had none to give. Godo blocked the door.

“This American, this man from Dallas.” Samir pointed, as though the city were only a short walk away. “He is CIA. You give me to him”-a finger snap-“I disappear.”

“I don’t know that.”

“They will hood me, torture me. I’ll end up in some secret prison. Worse, get handed over to someone else, the Egyptians, the Thais. Let them do the dirty work.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they can.”

Happy reached into his back pocket, withdrew a mangled pack of Marlboros, shook one free, lipped it. “Maybe all they want to do is talk.” The cigarette bobbing. “That be so terrible?”

“And tell them what?”

“Whatever.” Using a Zippo, Happy lit up, shrugged. “Everything.”

“And if I have nothing to tell them, nothing they want to hear, what do you think happens? Think they believe me?”

“Could be they want you to infiltrate a mosque, maybe a sleeper cell, maybe just a bunch of deadbeats hanging around some café, talking tough about jihad. You want asylum? Looks like you’ll have to earn it.”

Samir turned one way, another, looking for a way out. “You don’t understand.”

Happy exhaled a long plume of smoke. “You keep saying that.”

A nervous laugh, disbelief. “What else can I say?”

“No one understands. Not as far as you’re concerned.”

“Why are you angry with me?”

“I’m not-”

“What have I done? Why betray me like this?”

Happy took another long drag. “Who are you, really? Let’s start there.”

Again, the hand across the heart. “I have never once lied-”

“I have no idea who you are.”

Roque glanced toward the door, wondering what if anything Godo felt about all this, but except for a vague impatience there was nothing in his expression to read. Sure the Arab was a pain in the ass but this was over the top. “Happy, what are you getting at?”

“Butt out, Roque.”

“No. You don’t tell me that, not after everything-”

“This don’t concern-”

“This isn’t necessary , okay? I told you, this guy in Naco-”

“For fuck’s sake, you stupid? He’s a cop! I don’t care whose uncle he is. You gotta trust me on this, you go to this guy to get you across, you’ll never be heard from again. Okay? Especially with our friend here in tow.” He gestured toward Samir, then Lupe. “Same with her.”

“Happy-”

“T he patrón wants a songbird, Roque. They all do down here. One of the perks of being el mero mero . He’ll make her a star. Life could be fucking worse.”

“Now you’re the one who sounds stupid.”

“Not like they’re gonna pimp her out, okay? Everybody’s being so fucking dramatic.”

Again, Lupe looked to Roque for some reassurance. There was none to find. She turned to Happy, incensed, scared.- Tell me what is happening. Not him. Me .

Before Happy could answer, a caravan of four SUVs turned off the road into the development, headlights raking the forward houses as the engines throttled down for the switch from pavement to gravel.

Roque turned back to Happy, took a step toward him. “What have you done?”

Happy didn’t move. A twinge of his eye, a blink. “I have no clue who that is.”

Samir lunged toward one of the windows, hiking his leg over the sill, ducking down. He was halfway out when Godo sailed across the room, caught him, grabbing him by the shirttail first, then a crippling punch to the small of the back, like some instinct from the war had taken hold. Lupe, seeing the door unguarded, bolted, she was gone before Roque could stop her. He grabbed his knapsack, followed, glancing back from the doorway as Godo headlocked Samir, twisting him to the floor. Happy just stood there, tip of his cigarette a curl of ash as he stared in the general direction of the oncoming vehicles, looking as though to move would be an admission of something he still felt a need to keep private.

THE DARKNESS ACROSS THE DESERT FLOOR FELT IMPENETRABLE, WORSE than inside the house, but once his eyes adjusted Roque caught Lupe’s silhouette vanishing past a snarl of cacti. He hurried after her just as the SUVs braked and men poured out. Over his shoulder, he recognized the huelepega from earlier, passing through the headlight glare, looking not quite so feeble now. They’d known, he thought. They had a lookout.