The Shot

They had been traveling south for about an hour across the valley floor. The sun was out, but it was still cool. Orville had his headphones on and the metal detectors switched on. He and dad where riding up front gazing at the ground and distance respectively as they rode along. Don Pablo was riding in the back browsing the Wall St. Journal on line.

Say, says here that New Jersey has outlawed the death penalty.

Geezus that's cruel.

What's that Bill?

I said its mighty cruel of them to make a guy spend the rest of his natural life in prison in New Jersey. You'd think you'd want to cut that one short.

What'd you say?

I said its a good thing you got those headphones on Orville so that you don't hear what Don Pablo is saying about you.

Is he cursing at another fellow?

No, just reading the paper on line that's all.

Well then why did he start cursing?

He's not cursing, and take off those headphones if you want to talk.

Orville took off his headphones and stuck his left finger in his ear and began twisting it back and forth cleaning it out.

Say Bill, you notice anything different about this land?

Yeah, I been looking at those hills up in the distance, and the ground as it is receding away, and, I don't know, but it seems to me that a lot of the color has gone out of the land since I first started painting it 50 years ago.

Yep, I've noticed that the dry gulches are drier, and the dry lakes are drier, and drain off much faster than they used to when they get some water in them, and what water they do get just isn't as much as it used to be. And when I dig down I notice that the ground is significantly drier than it used to be. I have to dig much deeper before I notice a change in the color of the soil indicating the presence of moisture. What's more, a few of the old mine shafts that I poke around in are no longer damp.

Interesting, I thought it was just my cataracts getting the better of me.


A rifle-shot rang out across the valley floor from the west and whizzed over Phone Home's head.

"Haw!" Orville pulled the wagon to the left. Don Pablo dove to the bottom of the wagon. Dad jumped to the ground and headed left of the wagon.

Pablo, pass the spy-glass.

Dad leaned against the side of the wagon and glassed to the west.

Anyone have a guess where that shot came from?

Somewhere in the direction of where you're lookin.

What'd ya see?

Nothing yet. Let's sit still and see what happens.

300 yards away two men lay on the ground with their rifles. They had come out the night before with night vision equipment, dressed in camo, carrying walkie-talkies, rifles, and a thermos of coffee. They were members of a self-elected border surveillance group looking for people crossing the desert at night. They sat all night waiting to spot someone, anyone, out crossing the desert at night. They sat, and sat, and saw nothing. By morning boredom had not only set in, but it had taken charge of their brains and displaced any traces of common sense they ever had.

In the morning an old wagon had come into view. They thought it would be "funny" to fire a shot at it. One had bet the other that he would not shoot at it, and like most such bets of this sort there would not be a winner and a loser, just two losers.

The shot was fired.

And they hadn't planned what to do next.

They wanted to run, but were afraid to be seen. So they crawled backwards toward a bolder forty feet back.

Crawling across the ground they both heard it, and they both knew what it was.
They just didn't know where it was. The sound was unmistakable, even if you never heard it before you'd know what it was.

Then a scream. The man could not help himself, he rolled over onto his back and was bit again. He kicked at the ground to shove himself away. The other man jumped up and ran, dropping his rifle.

There they are. Looks like something happened. One of 'em is running away.

The bitten man stood up. He fell over.

We better go and see what's up.

The travelers walked towards the fallen man.

Howdy, you fire that shot?

Help me!

What happened?

Let him die.

What happened?

Did you fire that shot or not?

I was bit.

Let him die.

You've got to help me. My leg is swelling up, I can feel it.

Why'd you shoot at us?

Let 'em die.

I didn't mean to.

What you doing out here anyway?

We was looking for illegals. Can you help me?

Lookin' for illegals! Border Nazis, let him die. [Don Pablo spit on the ground].

Why shouldn't we just leave you here and let you die like he says?

We didn't mean to hit you, we wuz just foolin around, honest, we didn't mean ta aim at you.

Let's get him up and into the wagon. We'll have to head in toward El Paso to find someone to help him.

The laid him down in the wagon and headed in.

What you got against Mexicans?

Their taking our jobs.

Really, now what jobs is that?

All of our jobs.

Tell me, what exactly do you do?

I install auto-mo-beale windshields.

And you're worried that a Mexican will take your job?

Sure.

Well maybe your problem is with your boss and not no Mexican. Maybe you should've thought about your career options before you quit school if you're worried about some Mexican taking your job.

Nothing more was said to the windshield installer, or by him.

His leg was discolored and swelled around the bite. But after three hours there were no signs of anything worse happening to him.

Looks like you were dry bit.

What?

No venom. Lucky you.

They came across a line-man and called in an EMT. 20 minutes later they transferred him to an ambulance.

That night they camped north of El Paso. After dinner they climbed a hill carrying binoculars and the spy-glass. They sat on an outcrop at the top of the hill and glassed south to El Paso. They could see the Rio Grande. It was lit up like an amusement park on one side. On that same side were two fences separated by a forty foot corridor running along the river. In the corridor border agents bounced along in Jeeps, lights flashing on top. In the corridor against a fence they saw twelve people kneeling with their hands in the air. Around the twelve stood Border Patrol officers. They watched as one-by-one an officer took someones arm and brought it down behind their back, then took that person's other arm and brought it down behind their back, then the officer locked that person's wrists together with a strip of plastic.

The travelers watched in silence until all twelve people had their wrists bound behind their backs and were led away to a waiting vehicle.

Shit. Remember Check-Point Charlie?

Sure do.

Yeah, back then when somebody came over from the eastern block they'd be given a job, a home, and admired for being brave.

Not here, not this place.

Problem with Mexico is that commies don't run it.

Not yet.

Yeah well, if they did we'd still toss `em back.

Suppose so. Nobody wants poor people. Not anymore, we let `em all in already. Including my grandparents, yours, `n yours.

Yeah Bill, well back then there was work for them all.

Yeah well, there's still plenty of work. I hear they plan on building a wall from San Diego clear across here and down to Brownsville. Who'd ya think is going to build that wall? I'll tell you this, it won't be retirees from California, Michigan, or Pennsylvania. Won't be Mormons, or cowboys, or even that kid at Walmart who sold you those metal detectors. And it sure won't be that fool who shot at us this morning. No sirree. I think we know who is going to build that wall.

Orville stoked his pipe. Pablo spit on the ground. Nothing more was said.

They walked down to the wagon, unrolled their beds and drifted off into the night, sleeping the sleep of their fathers.

The next day would bring a new man to them.