Manuel Labour
He's just drifting thru

Chapter One

Manuel remembers very little about his childhood. He remembers his mother, but not his father. He has tried to find work each day since he was about five years old.

He lives with a small and shifting group of friends, who now sleep in an abandoned school bus. Before this they slept in an old house. It burned down, but they got out.

It is winter now, so in the morning he looks for odd jobs in the towns stores. If he gets enough, he will have corn, beans, and wine. If he does not, he will just have wine. Each of his friends share the vino, but food is rarely shared. This suits them, as wine is more important than food. Besides, many shopkeepers and housewifes will give them a little food if they said they are hungry. The bus roof leaks, but it has not rained for weeks.

In the summer Manuel will look for work in the fields. He can plant corn, beans, tomatoes, peas and such. He can dig, plow, hoe, and pick. When he is healthy and nearly sober he is a good worker. He can follow simple instructions, but works best with supervision. He is a mean drunk.

Manuel has heard that life is better to the north. Yesterday was bad, little food and just two mouthfulls of wine. But his shoes are OK, so he decides to walk north. He has nothing to pack. He stands up where he slept, walks out the bus door, and takes the road towards the border. There are no good byes. The others left hours ago. They will not worry, people up and go all the time.

Manuel is on his way.

He feels a sense of loss thinking about Maria last week, but he tells himself that women are much the same all over, and the women where he is going will have needs too. Maria was his favorite. He was not her favorite.

By sundown he has walked thru a few towns, had a little to eat, and he is not too sore. He is used to working all day, and the walking is not hard. He walks on into the night. A few hours after dark, he lies down in an old farm house. The roof will keep the dew off. It gets cold fast at night.

By the morning light he looks around. There might be something worth taking. Others have come this way ahead of him, but they could have missed something. There are cardboard boxes of old clothes, not his size, musty, and coming apart. In what is left in a hen house he finds a lone hen. She will not be caught, but there are eggs. Not bad. He has no fire, so he eats them raw. Got to get matches, he thinks.

He walks on. Two towns, a few handouts. Nearly half a pack of paper matches. These he wraps in a scrap of paper, and puts in an outside pocket, as not to soak them in sweat. He may find another chicken. Or a fat lizard. Or a pigeon. When they found the bus, it was full of pigeons. They did not last.

Near dusk he finds a few people bedding down in an abandoned mission. He sleeps there too. Sometime in the night he is beaten, and robbed. But he has nothing, so they beat him some more. In the morning he finds that he still has his matches. His shoes are gone. He puts on a nearby worn pair. They fit. He is sore. He does not think about the times he has beaten and robbed the weak. Only a fool would try to beat the strong.

He walks north.

The land is changing. Bushes are bigger and greener. The bare areas are small patches. There are weeds. More bugs and lizards. He feels his matches. Still has them. It looks like rain to the north. Dark clouds, wind. Blowing sand and the smell
of rain. Holes in the ground, something lives in them. Could be ground owls, gother turtles, or snakes. Rattlesnakes. Best not to put your hand in. Looks like a town up ahead. Maybe some food. Surely water. Maybe vino.

Late afternoon. Farmhouse. He knocks on the door. A woman answers from somewhere inside. She waddles to the door. Ugly and fat, a bad sign. Manuel knows that life has been unkind to her, and she is apt to pass it along to him. He decides to ask for water, not to press his luck. She smiles, and brings him a large drink. He drains it. It is good to have a real meal. She gives him a full canteen as he leaves.

Another farmhouse, set in a few trees. Trees are rare here, but Manuel knows what to do. Using the trees as cover, he slips up to to the back of the hen house. He waits. When a chicken walks around the corner, he grabs its neck tight. The chicken can not make a sound, and it soon stops flopping. He slips away to cook. There is little firewood, and he has no knife, but breaks some rocks until he gets a sharp edge. He dresses the chicken, and cuts thin strips of meat from the breast. He makes a small fire, wraps the strips around sticks, and they cook fast. He eats, and empties the canteen. Life is good. Most of last nights aches are gone. He moves off a short distance from what is left of the chicken and curls up for the night. In the middle of the night he wakes. Animals are feeding on the chicken remains. Back to sleep.

Morning. Walking north. He knows he is very close to the border now, and so moves away from the road. He walks thru the desert. Downhill very slightly. Toward the river. The only river for many miles. No one is in sight. He takes out his canteen, ready to fill it. But when he reaches the river he wades across and hurries up the far bank. He is only wet to the knees.

He moves north. He knows it is bad to be caught here. He needs to reach a large city far from the border. Maybe he should find a road and hitch a ride. Maybe not. He does not know the land here. But north is north. He keeps walking. He comes to some bad lands, little hill and gullys. Hard walking, but safe from the border police, he hopes. He walks on thru the chill night.

Dawn comes, and he is tired. He wonders if today is Sunday. Perhaps he should pray. He comes to a recess under a rock ledge. After poking into the dark parts with a stick he crawls under and shuts his eyes.

He wakes in the afternoon, very thirsty. Out of water, and the sun is shining under his ledge. He must find water or move into some shade.

There is shade across the gully. He moves into the shade. He will wait till dusk and then look for water. He has seen no towns since he crossed the border. And no water.

The sun is low, and a breeze has started. Manuel stands and moves down the gully, checking low spots for dampness. He knows that water can often be found by digging in such places. They are dry. He follows the gully.

It is late. The moon is in the last quarter, and will set soon. He sees a shack, or maybe just a shed. It is tumbled down, but it is a sign. Who ever lived here had a source of water. Maybe they left when it dried up. He walks around the shack, looking by the light of the setting quarter moon. Sure enought, a well. He looks down into blackness. He shouts, and gets an echo. Good. He drops a pebble in.There is a splash. Better. He needs a rope and bucket.

None here. Maybe in the shack. It is very dark inside. He gets down on his knees, and feels around. Rough floor boards. He remembers his matches, and lights one. A candle. He lights it and puts in on the table. It is a one room shack. He finds no rope or bucket. He takes the candle outside, and looks around the shack. There is a lean-to attached to the back. Nothing inside. He backs out, stands up, and blows out the candle. Time to think. Something long. He sees the barbed wire fence. He pulls the top strand free of the post. The old wood gives. The wire is rusted in places, but he twists good sections together. He goes to the well, and pushes one end of the wire down the well. He adds more wire. It reaches the bottom. He pulls it up. The end is wet. Good. Now for a bucket. He looks at the canteen. He does not want to lose it. He twists the wire around it carefully, and lowers it gently, checking the splices as it goes. The canteen fills slowly, making bubbling sounds. He is so thirsty. He raises it slowly, carefully. He grips the wet canteen and drinks. Muddy, but good. He does it again. And pukes. He does it again, and drinks more slowly. Good. He goes inside and sleeps on a pile of old clothes.

He wakes early in the morning, thirsty and hungry. He carrys an old mason jar to the well, wraps the wire carefully just below the threads, and lowers it. He drinks the first few jars, then starts to fill the canteen. He needs to eat. He lifts the jar carfully by the barbed wire to avoid breaking the glass jar against the side of the well. The wire hangs on something. He pulls, then pulls harder. Something heavy is coming up.

It is an old saddle bag. He pours the water out, catching it in the canteen. Something round and shiny bounces off of the canteens neck. A gold coin. More are in the bag. Lots more. Manuel dances, then sets down. He thinks.

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Chapter Two

If he is caught with the gold, it is gone. If he sells it, there will be questions. There may be more in the well. Maybe he should put it back in the well. He does not want to. Maybe he can get it back to the south. That would be best. He needs to eat. It he takes just one coin to a town, he can buy food. But someone will follow him. He can lose a tracker. But he could be caught. And made to talk. And lose it all. And maybe be killed. He knows people have been killed for less.

After a while he feels hunger, and hunts lizards. Three fat lizards make a light breakfast. He looks at the dying cooking fire, and adds more wood to built it up. He may need to save his matches by keeping a fire going. If he carrys these coins with him, he will need to be able to find his way back. There may be more in the well. If he is coming back, maybe he should bury most of these here. If he is deported, he can alway walk back if he can find his way. If he buys a green card he will not be arrested, and can travel more safely. But he has no money, just these old gold coins. Maybe he should bury all but a hand full, and take the rest back to Mexico. He could melt them down and sell them as stolen gold, but for a lower price. He could get some better clothes. This would reduce problems with the police, and make it safer to do business with a coin shop. He could get bettershoes. He could go to the market junk stall, and get an old family keepsake chest, put the remaining coins in it, and present them as old family treasure at a coin shop. Yes, that's it.

What will Manuel do? How will it work out? E-mail your ideas to me, and maybe I will steal them!

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