Los Cuatro
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 4
It had been about a week since Isa got sick, and I was glad to see her bouncing back to her usual self—teasing, bright-eyed, and way too comfortable stealing bites off my plate when she thought I wasn’t looking. Luz and I still passed our letters each night like clockwork, folding little pieces of paper into corners of hope. I didn’t know what I would’ve done without them. Without her.
We were having lunch in the common room, all four of us squeezed around the little plastic table like some odd family. The food was simple—some kind of rice and beans combo with a half-ripe mango split between us—but none of us complained anymore. We’d long since figured out how to make meals feel like something other than survival. Laughter helped. So did talking about things that had nothing to do with locked doors and guards.
Marisol had just finished telling a story about her old accounting professor who used to fall asleep mid-lecture when Luz, absently stirring her rice, asked Mateo, “So do you all grow mangoes around here or bring them in?”
It was such an innocent question. Mateo, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, shrugged and said, “They don’t grow well here in Zaca—” He stopped himself. Froze. His eyes flicked toward us like he was trying to gauge whether we’d caught it. Then he cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter. Eat up.”
We all exchanged glances, but no one said a word. Not until the guards switched shifts and we were left alone for a few minutes—just enough time to huddle close in the girls’ room while pretending to tidy up.
“Zaca,” Marisol said, keeping her voice low. “That has to mean Zacatecas.”
Isa sat cross-legged on her bed, nodding quickly. “That’s in central Mexico, right? Like ... far.”
“Hours and hours from the border,” Luz added, her tone calm but alert. “We knew we were far, but that narrows it down.”
I ran a hand through my hair, thinking. “It’s something. Better than nothing. If we ever get the chance to signal someone—or if we ever get out—that detail could be critical. It’s a state, not a town, so it’s still vague. But it’s a start.”
Marisol’s eyes locked with mine. “So maybe it’s time we start thinking less about where we are ... and more about how to leave.”
No one argued.
Because even the faintest thread of information—one slip of a tongue—was something to grip onto. And in a place like this, hope was a currency more valuable than food or water.
The morning light was weak, spilling through the cracked shutters in dusty lines. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up, joints stiff from another night on the thin mattress. My routine had become automatic: shirt, pants, socks. I bent down to grab my shoes—
And that’s when the damn thing moved.
A fat cockroach shot out from the shadows beside the left shoe, antennae twitching, legs scattering like it was fueled by pure malice.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, stumbling backward. Heart pounding, I snatched up the other shoe and hurled it across the room. It clattered hard against the far wall, nowhere near the bug. The roach vanished into a crack, victorious.
I stood there, shoe-less, trying to catch my breath. My pulse was still hammering like I’d just stared down a gun barrel.
The door creaked, and Marisol poked her head in. Isa was right behind her, wide-eyed. Luz lingered just outside, her hair a little tangled from sleep.
“What happened?” Marisol asked, scanning the room.
“Are you okay?” Isa added, almost breathless.
I sighed and pointed at the wall. “Cockroach.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Marisol’s face broke into a grin. “Wait. You screamed ... because of a bug?”
“I didn’t scream,” I shot back, even though I definitely had.
Isa giggled, covering her mouth. “And you missed. You threw a shoe and missed.”
Marisol was laughing now too, leaning against the doorframe. “Ay, pobrecito. First the cartel, now a damn cockroach. Truly, you suffer.”
Meanwhile, the still-giggling Isa began to sing. “La cucaracha, la cucaracha... ”
Heat rose in my face. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the words got lost somewhere between frustration and embarrassment.
Luz hadn’t said a thing. She was just standing there, watching me with this soft little smile tugging at her lips. No teasing, no laughter—just quiet amusement, and maybe something else in her eyes. Like she saw past the ridiculousness of the moment, straight into the vulnerability I was trying to shove down.
I bent to retrieve my shoe, shaking my head. “Glad I could provide some entertainment.”
“Better than breakfast,” Marisol said, still chuckling as she herded Isa away.
When they were gone, I glanced toward the door. Luz was still there, just for a second longer. Our eyes locked, and she gave the smallest nod, almost like reassurance, before slipping out into the hall.
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as I pulled my shoes on—still wary of what might be hiding inside.
Later in the day, we had another quick meeting during shift change. We waited until the shuffle of boots and murmured voices outside the door told us the guards were changing places. For a few precious minutes we had the space, and the risk was worth it.
The four of us ducked into the girls’ room under the pretense of reorganizing blankets. Isa and Marisol took up their usual post on one bed, sitting cross-legged, facing the wall in case a guard glanced in through the window. I sat beside Luz on another bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her, and the warmth of her knee brushing against mine made it almost impossible for him to keep his focus. But I tried.
“Zacatecas,” Marisol said quietly, picking up the thread from earlier. “We need to assume we’re somewhere in the countryside. Could be a ranch, a warehouse—whatever. But it means any potential help is a long way off.”
“Long way off,” Isa echoed, chewing her bottom lip. “But now we know for sure.”
I nodded. “It’s not much, but it’s something. If we ever make contact with someone outside—if we get even a single chance to pass a message—Zacatecas helps.”
“But how do we get to that point?” Luz asked gently. Her voice was always measured, never hurried. “We still don’t know the number of guards. The schedule. The layout beyond the fence.”
I turned slightly toward her, heart beating just a little too fast from how close she was. Her voice seemed to steady something inside me. “Right. We need intel. We have to map this place in our heads. How many buildings. Where the shadows fall. We need routines.”
“And we need to keep our eyes on Mateo,” Marisol added. “He’s ... not exactly loyal. Not totally checked out, either. But he’s hesitant. Hesitation is useful.”
“He didn’t report his own slip-up earlier,” Isa said. “Or if he did, no one came to punish us for it.”
“So, he’s afraid,” I said. “Maybe of getting in trouble. Maybe of the others. Either way, he’s a weak link.”
They all sat with that for a moment. My hand brushed lightly against Luz’s, and she didn’t pull away. My heart began to race.
“We’re not ready yet,” Marisol said finally. “But we’re getting there. We have pieces of the puzzle. We just need to stay alert. Stay patient.”
My eyes met Luz’s – for just a split second. Her expression was soft but serious, a little crease between her brows. She gave the faintest nod.
“We’ll find a way,” I said.
And the following day, we had a plan. It was Marisol who first suggested it, but we all got on board right away. The moment we got together on it, the air in the room shifted. Even though nothing had physically changed, it felt different—like we were finally shifting out of passive survival mode into something closer to action. Still no guarantees, but it was a start.
The idea was simple: get Mateo to let one of us outside. Not far. Just a few minutes—maybe under the pretense of needing fresh air, or some chore. Just long enough to see what was out there. Was there a gate? A road? How many buildings? How many guards were positioned outside, and where?
It was my job to convince him. We all agreed I had the best chance—he seemed to respond to me better than to the others, for whatever reason. I wasn’t sure if it was because I kept things neutral, or because I didn’t challenge him. It could very well have been a macho thing; he held more respect for a man than a woman. But tomorrow, I’d have to push just enough.
We went over it again, ironing out the details in quiet voices: how I’d make the ask, what I’d say if another guard was listening, and what I’d try to observe if he agreed. The mood was tense but focused.
That night, after lights out, I found her letter.
It was folded neatly, same as always, slid just beneath the loose floorboard between our rooms. I saw the faint square in the moonlight coming through the barred window and reached for it with something close to reverence.
Brendan,
I know you’ll be careful. I trust you. But I still feel scared.
I keep thinking of all the things that could go wrong—and I hate that I can’t go with you, can’t watch your back the way you watched Isa’s.
I believe in you. I believe in your quiet strength, the way you always think before you act, the way you stay calm even when everything feels like it’s unraveling. That’s why we chose you.
But please ... remember that you’re not alone. Not in this.
If you see something—anything—that gives us a chance, hold onto it. Memorize it. Sketch it later. We need pieces of the truth. You might be the only one who can gather them.
Come back safe. We still have letters to write.
— L
I read it multiple times. As always, her handwriting was just as steady as her voice. Every word rang with that quiet, thoughtful honesty I’d come to depend on. I folded the letter back up carefully and slid it under my pillow like a talisman.
I wasn’t fearless. But I could be brave. Especially for her.
When I woke up, my battery was fully charged. There wasn’t some magical surge of courage or adrenaline, no dramatic soundtrack in my head—just the simple clarity of purpose. We needed intel. I was the one to get it.
Over breakfast, we stuck to normal conversation, not wanting to raise suspicion. Marisol brought it up casually.
“Mateo,” she said, picking at her food like it was nothing important, “I think I saw uña de gato growing along the side of the building. It’s used in plant medicine—could be good for Isa’s stomach.”
Mateo looked at her like she was speaking Martian. “What?”
“It’s a vine,” she said slowly. “It helps with inflammation. Isa’s still not one hundred percent.”
Isa coughed softly and gave a weak nod, playing the part. Luz stayed silent, but I saw her watching Mateo closely. Waiting.
I chimed in. “I can go. I used to do some landscaping work—I can probably find it. I’ll be quick.”
Mateo hesitated. I could see the wheels turning behind his dull stare, trying to decide if this was a trick or just some boring herbal nonsense. He finally shrugged.
“Fine. But you screw around, I’ll knock your teeth out. Understand?”
“Understood,” I said.
I tried not to look too eager as I stood, casually slipping a folded piece of paper and the pen Luz had given me into my pocket. I hesitated for a moment, then added her letter, folding it gently and placing it beside the paper like it was sacred.
As I turned to follow Mateo to the door, my eyes found Luz’s. Her gaze locked on mine, and when I pulled the letter partway from my pocket to show her that I was taking it with me, her lips formed two soundless words: Good luck.
I nodded and stepped outside.
Outside ... what a magical word. I immediately felt guilty that my three housebound companions couldn’t experience this. The air hit me like a wave—fresh, wide, real. It was late morning and already warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could see the sky unobstructed. I kept my face calm, but inside, something cracked open. The world still existed.
I bent down near a patch of wild plants by the side of the building, pretending to search. Mateo stood nearby, arms crossed, uninterested in whatever leaf I plucked.
I used the moment. My eyes scanned.
The building sat in the center of a plot that couldn’t have been more than an acre. One structure—ours—with windows too high to crawl through. A dirt road ran from the front to a metal gate flanked by a short wall topped with barbed wire. At the gate, I counted two more guards, stationed under a small tin awning. Armed.
Beyond the road, dense foliage. Jungle? Overgrown farmland? Hard to say, but it was thick, tangled—enough to hide in, maybe. Enough to disappear, if we timed it right.
I pretended to rub the back of my neck and crouched lower. I pulled the paper from my pocket and began sketching—rough lines, points of interest. Road. Gate. Tree cluster. Wall height. Anything that might help later.
Mateo shifted behind me. “You find your plant yet?”
“Just about,” I said, tearing off a piece of vine that could have been anything. I rubbed it between my fingers and sniffed. “This might be it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Get back inside.”
God, he’s stupid, I couldn’t help but think.
I pocketed the paper and rose, giving the land one final sweep with my eyes. The walk back was quiet. I clutched the letter in my pocket like a charm.
Luz was standing near the window when I walked back in. When she saw me, her hand moved to her chest, just for a second, and I gave the faintest nod.
I’d done it. Mission accomplished.
The afternoon sunlight was slanting through the windows, catching motes of dust in the air, as we gathered in the girls’ room during the lull in guard rotation. Isa was stretched out on one bed, looking more like her old self every day. Marisol sat cross-legged beside her. Luz and I took the other bed, sitting close—shoulders nearly touching. We’d become good at these quiet, strategic meetings, speaking low, listening hard.
I unfolded the paper I’d hidden in my waistband. The sketch was crude, but it got the point across.
“One building, one road in or out, two guards at the gate, one wall with barbed wire—about eight feet tall,” I said, pointing. “And dense foliage surrounding the whole plot.”
Luz leaned in, eyes scanning it with quiet intensity. “If we made it into the trees, we’d be out of their sight pretty fast.”
Marisol nodded. “We’d need to time it perfectly. During a guard shift change. Or a distraction.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But that’s just getting out of here. Then what?”
They all looked at me. I hated being the one to break the mood, but someone had to.
“None of us have weapons experience, right?” I asked.
Marisol shook her head. “No. I mean, I’ve been to a shooting range. Once.”
Isa grimaced. “I don’t like guns. I wouldn’t even know how to hold one right.”
Luz just shook her head quietly.
“Okay,” I said. “That might’ve helped, but we’re not storming the place. Not an option.”
Marisol was already thinking two steps ahead. “Even if we make it out, we’re in Zacatecas. We’re deep in cartel territory. We don’t know anyone. We don’t even know where exactly we are in the state.”
“And no ID,” I added. “They took our wallets, our phones ... everything.”
Luz glanced at me. “Even if we make it to the U.S. border, we have no documentation. No proof of who we are. How do we get across?”