The American Dream

            by Alex Mokhtari-Fox

 

            Paco had just made his way over the twenty foot fence where there was a break in the barbed wire.  His first steps on American soil were quickened as he saw the border patrol jeep in the distance. 

            “Que debo hacer?” he said out loud.   He was told to meet with a man in this spot who would shuttle him to safety, but there was no one to be found.  Glance to the left, glance to the right, but nothing but that menacing truck gaining fast.  He had to hide but where?  He was in the dessert, and none of the prickly bushes were big enough to conceal a grown man.  Then all of a sudden some of the ground shrubbery began to rustle and a section popped up like a trap door, and a man stuck his head out.

            “Eres Paco?” the man inquired.

            “Si,” he responded. 

The man gestured for him to follow. “rapidamente” he commanded, and so they started there trek through the abandoned sewer to a new and better life.

 

Paco’s Uncle, Sanchez, had left for America about six months before and had ended up in a small ocean front university town, called Berkeley.  He was sending back money to his wife and kids in Mexico, And at first wasn’t prospering as much as he had hoped, but the opportunities were still greater for him in America than they had been in Mexico.  About two months before Paco had made the decision to come to America his mom became very sick.  His family made living wages but could not afford extra luxuries like medical attention.  His mother had been one of the family’s providers but in her illness, she could no longer work, and as the first born male Paco had felt it to be his duty to remedy this situation. 

Paco got a letter from his uncle that read:

 

Pacito, I am doing very well and I hope that you are as well.  I heard of your mother’s illness and I wanted to tell you I have a great new employer.  I am making much more money than I was before and I want you to come to America so that you can work for the kind of money you deserve.  Now I have to warn you, that the man I work for is a little different, and you have always been a good kid, so just take my advice because I don’t want you to get into trouble.  Just don’t ask any questions, and do as you’re told.

 

Paco had always trusted his uncle, and his family desperately needed the money, so the decision was made, he was coming to, Berkeley California.

 

Paco hoped off the freight train as it rolled into Berkeley, tumbling on the rocky gravel on the sides of the tracks.  He was finally there, the skies were blue, the air was fresh and he was ready to get to work.  Not wasting any time he made his way to the corner where he was supposed to meet Sanchez.  The card in his pocket read tenth and Hearst.    He trotted along eagerly, looking for someone who spoke Spanish, until another man who was presumably a worker as well pointed him in the right direction. 

Paco arrived at the corner and saw other men trying to sell there labor but Sanchez was nowhere in sight. 

“Hey excuse me, you don’t happen to know a man named Sanchez who works on this corner do you?” Paco asked one of the other Latino men.

“Oh yes, Sanchez.  I know him but I haven’t seen him in about two weeks.  He just sort of disappeared,” the man answered in a trustworthy voice.

“Who are you?” Paco blurted out like a curious child.

“My name is Ignacio, we worked together on a couple jobs, but he got a new employer and he was working a lot more before he left” 

“Where did he go?” Paco asked more out of disbelief than to pursue an answer.  It had been several weeks since Sanchez’s letter but he would have never expected Sanchez to just dessert him.

“I told you I don’t know, but if you want to work just stick around here and you’ll find some,” Ignacio exclaimed.

“I want to work, but I traveled all this way and now I have no where to stay,” Paco said, already defeated.

“Well me and some other workers stay in an abandoned warehouse down west from here.  There’s plenty of room, if you need to stay somewhere.”

“Oh thank you, that would be great.  I thought I would have to sleep on the streets,” Paco exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, we all made it over the fence too, and we know it’s hard to get started.  We got to stick together right.”

“Right”

 

The morning was bright and crisp.  Paco woke up to streams of sun shining through the square uniform warehouse windows, as he rolled over in the mass of blankets and people.  It was his first day on the job, and with no signs of Sanchez, he began by following Ignacio to the corner of tenth and Hearst.  The air was cold with slightly salty taste. 

“Ignacio, what is the plan for today?” Paco inquired

“Well usually the people come around nine or ten so we have about an hour,” he said checking his watch

“Oh ok so just wait for now”

“Yes, but if you want to the last man that Sanchez worked for, that I knew of lived in that house,” he murmured in a wary tone.

“Oh ok well I might as well talk to him, which house was it?” Ignacio pointed an unsteady finger to the house on the corner. “What’s wrong with you?” Paco asked.

“Its just there are stories about that house, be careful,” he replied

“I will”

Paco turned to face the house and nervously ran his fingers through his dark black hair.  The house was a faded white color with chipping paint around the base; it had a small waist high picket fence of the same color.  The whole back yard was pretty visible from the street, but it was just a dirt lot with nothing growing.  Why would Sanchez be working here, there is no garden for him to fix. Well he didn’t say what kind of work he was doing, maybe he has become a criminal.  Although the house didn’t give the feel of a criminal mastermind or drug king pin.  At the worst it just looked like a crack house, but appearances can be deceiving, so Paco headed for the front door.  Knock Knock.  He hit his calloused fingers against the frail door.  There was no reply for two minutes, and just as he was turning to leave the door swung open.

“What do you want?”  Came the scratchy old voice of a man who had obviously smoked a fare share of cigarettes during his lifetime.  He wore a loose fitting flannel shirt and pajama pants.  His blue eyes glared at Paco with suspicion through the leathery skin on his face.

“Um…ah…hello.  I was looking for my uncle” Paco replied

“And who is he?”

“His name is Sanchez, and I herd he worked for you.”

“Yes he has been working for me.  I’m afraid I can’t just tell you where he is though, his work is very private.”

“Oh ok, well thank you anyways.”

“Well you’re his nephew you say?

“Yes”

“I might have some work for you if you are interested, just come back tomorrow”

“Ok”

Paco staggered back to Ignacio with a boyish smirk across his face, happy that he would probably soon again see his uncle.  “The man in that house said he had work for me to do,” Paco remarked, fully pleased with himself.

“You have to be careful man.”

“Why?” but it was too late.  A white pick up truck came to a stop and signaled for Ignacio and Paco to come over.  They left for Paco’s first day of manual labor, and it would be a long day.

 

Paco laid his head down on a makeshift pillow, his muscles aching and his hands blistered.  Going to sleep is always better when you’ve earned it.  He turned his head to face Ignacio.

“So why were you saying I should be careful about working at that house earlier today/”

“Well it’s just that people tell a lot of stories and I’ve been here a long time so I’ve herd them all.  In our line of work people come and go a lot so it’s hard to say why, but everyone who ends up working for him ends up going.  No ones sure where or why, and it wouldn’t be suspicious except somehow he gets them to not tell anyone, even there family what kind of work there doing.  Then one day they are just sort of gone.  I’m pretty sure he has them work in some crime ring as low level criminals to take the heat for the group.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t but it’s the only thing I’ve herd that makes sense.”

 

Paco approached the decrepit houses front door once again, unsure if he should knock or not.  He stared for a long minute, and then decided he had to find his uncle no matter what the circumstances.  Family was always the most important.  Knock knock.  Those piercing blue eyes glared from the corner of the door as it was cracked open. 

“Oh hello.  I assume you’re accepting my offer.” He said in a satisfied voice

“Yes sir, but I was wondering if I work for you I will be able to find my uncle right?”

“You’ll see him in due time, now lets get to work.”

“Ok.  What sort of work do you want me to do, and for how much?” Paco inquired.

“I’ll give you seventy five dollars a day, sound good?  You just have to do whatever work I tell you to and not speak about it to anybody”

“Ok I can do that”

The man signaled for him to follow him into the house.  On the inside it was shabbily decorated, but very interestingly painted.  The walls had all sorts of hand prints and paint splatter, like a kindergarten art class gone horribly awry.  It was of no significance to Paco, he just wanted his money and his uncle.  “Why is this door left unpainted?” Paco asked curiously. 

“Don’t go in that room,” the man said as if offended by the question.  “We’re going to the back yard to work today.”  This seemed peculiar because it was just a plot of dirt, but when he got outside Paco saw a pile of wood.  “I want you to build me a nine foot fence,” the man said impersonally and quickly retreated into the house.  This was pretty standard manual labor, why couldn’t he tell anyone?  Oh well, rules are rules I suppose.

 

After working for a week, Paco had made no progress finding his uncle, but he was able to start sending money home.  He arrived at the old mans house at nine thirty as instructed the day before, ready to start his day of toiling.  Today was different though.  Rather than suspiciously open the door and have Paco get right to work, he swung it open casually and ran up stairs without a word.  Paco sat on the couch, twiddling his thumbs and awkwardly staring around the room.

His eyes fell on the unpainted door.  The light shining through the door reflected off of something on the floor.  Paco’s curiosity got the best of him.  He walked over to the door, shuffling his fingers to get the item dislodged from beneath the door.  He looked down in shock.  It was a necklace of the Virgin Mary, made of Mexican silver.  It was his Uncles, a gift from his grandmother before he had left for America. 

Paco pocketed the necklace and stood up straight.  The forbidden fruit had to be tasted.  He slowly clenched his fist around the door knob, his palms sweating, and slowly creaked the door open.  There were no light from within, just a dark stairwell.  Paco began the decent, carefully stepping, trying not to make any noise on the old wooden stairs.  His shoes stuck to the floor and slowly peeled off with every step.  He took a lighter from his pocket and quickly flicked it on when he could no longer see the floor in front of him.  He was in a windowless basement filled with nothing but a long closet that ran along all walls. 

There was a sudden loud thump from with the closet.  “Sanchez?” Paco yelled running to the closet door.  He slid it open with out a second thought, and that was how Paco and I first met.  He found me chained to the closet floor naked and bleeding from multiple wounds.  I screamed out “Ayudame,” spraying blood with my frantic scream for help.  Paco turned to run, but I could already see it was too late.  A dark silhouette filled the door way.  Overwhelmed by the situation Paco tried to stop in mid sprint but slipped in one of the puddles of blood and human waste that littered the floor.  His head cracked against the cement floor.  He was one of the lucky ones.