The Lamia

4-6

When Dema got to the station early the next morning Juan and Pup were already there. They waited for Doug to arrive so they could let him know they were heading out as planned, then they got in the Jeep and started off.

Dema was driving, and she headed out the way Doug had gone the day before, following Target Range Road. Some time later, when they were well away from traveled roads, Juan indicated she should turn north.

The new trail wound around behind a hill. Juan signaled for her to stop at a little clearing. Dema immediately saw why. There were signs of a campfire.

Dema's shaman awareness told her it had been used by smugglers. It was part of a regular route. They moved on foot, mostly at night. They stopped here early in the morning, just after sunrise when the light from a small fire would be hard to see from a distance. They prepared food and ate, then slept under the nearby trees. When it began to get dark they left. They traveled alone or in small groups, never more than three together.

Dema asked Juan if he could tell where they had come from. In reply he got back in the Jeep, and they headed south. Guided by Juan, Dema crossed the trail Doug had followed and wound on south for a few hours, following nearly invisible trails.

Eventually they arrived at another campsite. It felt much like the previous one. The men who used it left little sign, but Dema could sense, through impressions left on the life in the area, many of the same past presences.

"Could we go on?" she asked, "Could we find the one before this, and the one before that, and so on?"

She spoke to Juan in the speech that was more than speech, much as she often did with her grandmother Sedna, the thoughts and images behind the verbalization communicating far more richly than mere words.

"We could," he answered, "But we are already in Mexico."

Dema laughed. "We are illegal immigrants!"

"You are, perhaps."

"You have dual citizenship?"

"I am a Yaqui, a member of the Yaqui nation. But both Mexico and the United States seem to be willing to claim me as well."

"But we are on the right trail. We need to follow it."

"Suit yourself. It is you who are the illegal immigrant. I can go where I please."

"Can we come back again tomorrow, but cross legally at Nogales?"

"Of course."

"Then that's what we'll do. That is, if you agree."

Juan was smiling. This whole thing was, after all, his idea.