Los Cuatro
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 7
The next morning, we packed up early. The air was cool and dry for once, and the rising sun cast a golden haze across Antonio’s small yard. We thanked him sincerely—Marisol giving him a warm abrazo, Isa blowing a kiss in the air, and me shaking his hand with both of mine.
“Good luck, amigos,” he said with a smile, already wearing one of the newly-altered short-sleeve shirts. “You’re good people.”
We made our way back to Diana’s house to say goodbye. Luz clutched a small piece of folded paper and a pen—her eternal travel companions—and her smile dimmed the second we stepped onto the porch. Diana answered the door with a sad sort of knowing in her eyes.
Before we could even launch into our thanks, she stopped us. She’d been thinking about what we’d told her yesterday. Then she pointed to a map taped to the inside of her kitchen cabinet and traced a finger along a nearby town name.
“You’re not in Zacatecas,” Marisol translated softly. “You’re in San Luis Potosí. A small town just west of Ciudad del Maíz.”
I felt the ground shift beneath me. The cartel had lied to us—again. Even the weak Mateo—the one we’d trusted the most—had fed us false information. It made me feel sick, how easy it had been for them to warp our sense of direction, even our understanding of where we were.
“We’ll figure it out,” Marisol said to me under her breath, squeezing my arm.
It was time to go. Luz pulled out her pen and scribbled her full name and an email address on the paper, then Diana did the same. “For when we get home,” Luz said. “We’ll write. Send pictures. Maybe even call.”
The kids were clinging to her legs by then. One of them called her Tía Luz and my heart just about broke.
“I don’t want her to leave,” the little girl said.
“I don’t either,” Luz whispered, blinking fast. She crouched down, hugged them both tightly, and kissed the tops of their heads. “You be good for your mamá, okay?”
That’s when Diana disappeared into the house and came back with a full twelve-pack of bottled water. Before we could protest, she was loading them into our packs—three bottles each, insisting we take them.
“We can’t—” I started.
“You can,” she said, able to muster that reply in English, and that was the end of that.
“Thank you,” I told her in Spanish, trying my best: “Muchísimas gracias por todo.”
She smiled. “Cuídense mucho. Que Dios los acompañe.”
And with that, we were back on the road. The sun was climbing. Our packs were heavier now, but not just with water—with kindness.
About a half-mile out, Isa said, “When we get back home, I’m sending her something really, really nice. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“I’m in,” Luz said.
“Me too,” said Marisol.
I nodded. “She gave us more than she knows.”
We kept walking.
We’d gone about a mile before Marisol called for a break. The sun was high, and the air was already thick and warm—nothing like the cool relief of last night. We found a shaded clearing with a few low stones to sit on, dropped our packs, and took a moment to breathe. Isa was the first to lie back flat on the ground, arms flung out dramatically.
“We’re still alive,” she said. “Ten points to us.”
I pulled out my map—what passed for one, anyway—and looked toward Marisol. “So ... San Luis Potosí, not Zacatecas. That change anything?”
She wiped sweat from her neck with the hem of her shirt and gave a small shrug. “Not really. We’re just farther east than we thought. Honestly, it might even help us. If we keep going east, then turn north along the Gulf, we’ll avoid the mountains. It’ll be flatter terrain, maybe easier walking.”
“But...” I said. I could tell there was another side to the coin.
“But that’s Tamaulipas,” she said. “Cartel central. We’d have to cross it either way. Just means we’ll have to be extra careful.”
Isa groaned. “So what you’re saying is, danger everywhere.”
“Yup,” Marisol said cheerfully.
Luz stood and adjusted her waistband. “I’m going to ... you know. Behind the trees.”
She headed off, which led to an awkward little silence. I decided to lean into it. “So,” I said, “maybe we should have a quick check-in on ... sensitive topics. Bathroom breaks. Hygiene. Personal space. Stuff we’d normally pretend doesn’t exist.”
Isa sat up with a wicked grin. “Oh boy, are we about to get real?”
I glanced around at them. “I just think it’s worth acknowledging that we’re going to learn way more about each other than anyone signed up for. Could get weird.”
“Too late,” Isa said. “We passed weird about a week ago. Next stop ... full-blown emotional nudity. Can’t wait to find out how loud Brendan snores.”
“My God, Isa!” Marisol groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you like this?”
“It’s a gift.”
We all laughed—one of those helpless, too-tired-to-hold-it-in laughs that made us feel human again.
Then Marisol turned to me. Her voice softened. “Hey ... Brendan? I’ve been meaning to say something.”
I raised my eyebrows, suddenly unsure.
“That day at the safe house ... I said something kind of shitty. About how you’d be totally out of place at a big Mexican-American family thing.”
I remembered. I hadn’t taken it personally at the time, but I could see now that she was worried that I might’ve.
“I was wrong,” she said. “After yesterday—how you helped Diana with the fans, the screen door, the way you treated her with respect, how you handled Antonio ... I realized you’re not out of place. You belong more than I thought.”
Isa nodded solemnly. Luz, who was back and sitting beside me, reached over and took my hand. She didn’t say anything yet—just squeezed.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how much that moment meant. “Thanks. That means a lot. But I’ve done a lot of volunteer work over the years. Soup kitchens, rebuilding homes, aid trips. You learn to listen more than talk. And to show respect wherever you go.”
Luz leaned closer. “My sister is right,” she whispered. “You really are something else. We’ll talk more about that later.”
I squeezed her hand back. She rested her head against my shoulder for a second.
“Okay, that’s enough bonding,” Isa said as she stood and stretched. “Luz, what took you so long out there? No toilet paper? We were about to send out a search party to get your butt back here.”
Marisol rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Isa?”
We all started laughing again.
Later in the day, we arrived at another town, one slightly smaller than the one we’d just left. It was quiet in the street ... there was much less activity than I might have expected. Suddenly, Marisol pointed at a small restaurant.
“Let’s go check behind it,” she said. “Maybe we’ll find some food.”
“Food they’ve thrown away?” I said.
“Yeah. We can’t be choosy. We take what we find, as long as it’s edible.”
All four of us casually walked along the side of the building, trying not to appear conspicuous. Marisol peered around the corner, then regarded us with a smile. “We’re in luck,” she told us. “Someone’s tossing some food right now.”
She continued to watch. Finally, the coast was clear, and she motioned for us to get moving. Yes, there was food, and it was in closed boxes, sitting on top of the trash. A bunch of tortillas, some rice and some cooked chicken.
“Breakfast tomorrow?” smiled Luz. “We have Diana’s leftovers for dinner.” And with that, we had our next two meals covered.
I was the one who made the next score. Outside another building, I found a broken coffee pot that was useless for making coffee, but perfect for boiling water for drinking purposes. We found a hose attachment in the back of another building and filled up the coffeepot with water. We’d boil it later.
But Isa was the one who found the thing we were really in need of—a folded-up and detailed road map of Mexico. Someone had carelessly tossed it in the trash. But now, it was ours.
Later, we moved out away from the town to make camp for the night. We’d be sleeping in the wild again. First, we made a fire and boiled the water. We enjoyed Diana’s leftovers for dinner. It wasn’t long before darkness overtook us, and we paired up on the blankets as before. Luz was once again snuggled up against me. We could hear Marisol and Isa breathing silently, already asleep.
The darkness was so deep, so thick, that I couldn’t see Luz at all. But I could feel her, which was more than enough. I was about ready to bring up the day’s events, when Luz surprised me with a firm, long, deep kiss that just about curled my toes.
“What was that for?” I whispered, stunned at her forwardness.
She didn’t answer right away. The stars above us were clear and sharp, the kind you only see when you’re far from city lights. The air was still and warm, and the silence between us hummed like a held breath. She was lying close beside me, her fingers resting lightly on my chest where she’d placed them after the kiss. Then, her fingers traced a slow, thoughtful line along the fabric of my shirt.
“Marisol was right, you know,” she murmured.
I glanced down at her, though I couldn’t see her. “About what?”
“About you. The way you handled yourself today ... with Diana, with Antonio. You just jumped in, no hesitation. You didn’t complain, didn’t act like you were above any of it. That stuff means something, Brendan. It means a lot.”
I swallowed, caught off guard by the praise. “I didn’t really do anything special.”
“You did,” she said gently. “You respected them. You adapted. You didn’t make it about you. That’s not something everyone can do.”
Her words hit me in a quiet place I hadn’t expected. “Thank you,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.
She smiled faintly. “I was proud of you today.”
I shifted onto my side. “Well, I was proud of you too,” I said. “The way you were with Diana’s kids ... you were amazing.”
“They were sweet.” Her voice was tinged with surprise.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You were sweet. Patient. Calm. Funny. They were climbing all over you and you didn’t even flinch. That ... that was something I didn’t know about you yet. And it made me ... love you more.”
She brushed her hand lightly across my chest again, like she needed something to ground her. “You’re really something, you know that?”
“Only because you bring it out of me.”
She nestled closer, letting out a quiet, happy sigh. “We’re going to make it out of this,” she whispered. “I know it.”
“I believe you,” I said. “And whatever comes next ... we’ll handle it. Together.”
She didn’t say anything else. She just squeezed my hand, curled into me, and after a little while, her breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep. I stayed awake for a while longer, thinking about her, about what we’d become, and what waited for us down the road. I didn’t have answers, but I had her. And for now, that was enough.
The morning air was still cool when I stood, stretched, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Our makeshift camp was quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves overhead and the occasional chirp of some unseen bird. Luz was already up, tending to the fire’s faint glow, carefully warming the rice and chicken we’d salvaged the day before. Isa was sprawled out nearby, hair a wild tangle, blinking at the sky like it had personally offended her by being so bright. Marisol sat cross-legged, sharpening a stick with the edge of a rusted can lid we’d repurposed as a knife.
I stood and gave a little salute. “All right. Time for a little morning walk.”
Isa smirked and called after me, “Don’t use the leaves to wipe your butt—might be poison oak!”
I waved her off without turning around, shaking my head. “Thanks for the tip, wilderness expert.”
I disappeared into the brush, chuckling under my breath. Even after everything, Isa somehow managed to keep the mood from getting too heavy.
By the time I got back, breakfast was ready—still warm tortillas, a bit of rice, some tough but flavorful bits of chicken, all washed down with boiled water we’d prepared the night before using our prized broken coffee pot. We viewed it as our lifeline. We ate quietly, grateful. No one said it aloud, but we all knew this routine—scavenge, boil, ration, move—was on the verge of becoming our new normal.
After we cleaned up, we packed everything: the blanket rolls, the now-lighter food stash, our bottles of water. Marisol checked the map Isa had found like it was some kind of ancient scroll. Luz tied her hair back and looped the coffee pot through one of the backpack straps with a piece of cord.
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