Drowning Tucson Read Online Free PDF Page A

was sore. His eyes were burning. His ass still felt the intense stab from her kick. All he could do was roll in front of the hotel room, too sore to pull his pants back up.
    When the pain finally subsided to a dull ache, he fastened his jeans and stumbled down the street humiliated, ignoring the women jeering at him and the cars honking and the obnoxious lights everywhere. The sting from the mace still blurred his vision, so he walked away from the sounds of the women yelling and laughing, extending his hands in front of him to avoid bumping into anything and taking careful steps to be sure he was on the sidewalk and not wandering into traffic.
    Eventually the sounds of Miracle Mile faded away, and his vision improved. He still had no idea where he was, but he knew he wanted to hide. The name Nuñez meant nothing on Miracle Mile. He only knew the Kings and 24th Street, but he had failed there, too. He had run away like a coward, and they would never take him back. They couldn’t. It was his destiny, and he had turned his back on it.
    Lightning flashed across the sky. I just need to find a place to lie down where no one will find me. He walked faster, feeling an occasional drop of rain splashing on his arms. He saw an overpass ahead, and he ran to it as the rain began to fall harder. He scaled the cement slope leading up to the overpass and when he reached the top, he wedged his body between the cement beneath him and the warm road above, feeling safe for the first time that day. For now he was protected from the rain, and at least that was something.

    Across Tucson animals scurried into hiding beneath wastebins. They ran into the doorways of homes. By the time the flashflood broke, the animals carried on in such a way—trying to claw their way through the walls of homes, overflowing from beneath the lids of dumpsters, packing themselves into the wheel wells of cars—that five minutes later not one could be seen roaming the streets. Mothers plucked up their children from their beds and rocked them silently, shushing them, morenervous than the confused children who seemed to know that now was not the time to question their mothers’ motives. The walls of houses shook, fighting against the storm’s wrath. It sounded as if all the oceans of the world had been lifted above this city in the middle of the desert and been dropped at once. Trailers were lifted from their foundations on the outskirts of town. Gullies and washes overflowed. Cars were swept away. By the time the storm had ceased thirty minutes later, the sides of hills had been sloughed off and semis lay overturned on the highway.
    And then it was over. There was mud in the streets one minute, and the next minute the desert had opened its mouth and sucked up every last drop of moisture. There was no water to show for it. People told themselves that semis always overturn and drift down the road, and that occasionally homes leave their foundations in search of a place to fall on their sides and expire.
    Señora Nuñez sat in her rocking chair listening to the storm, wondering if her son was safe. She lit candles to the Virgin and prayed for his swift return. Then she crossed herself and crawled back to bed on her knees.

    Felipe awoke the next morning more tired than when he had fallen asleep. His eyes were dry and scratchy from the mace. His body ached all over. The cement beneath him and the cool shade of the overpass made him think it was cooler outside than it actually was. He lay there, registering his various wounds. Nothing serious. A couple of scratches and some soreness. The worst damage had been done to his ego, but he didn’t have time to think about that now. His stomach felt like it was digesting itself, and he needed to eat. He hadn’t had a meal since breakfast the morning before. Chorizo and eggs sounded good. All he had to do was find a taqueria and he’d be set. Then he remembered he had dropped his money on the hotel floor right before Rainbow