Phoenix Noir

The place was a preserve of mountain and forest right there in the city. Luis made it there without seeing a cop, and had spent an hour hiking up the mountain in the dark. He stopped near a spot where Miguel had sprained his ankle while walking with Luis about a year earlier. He hoped Miguel would understand his message and show up there in the morning.

It was now around 11. Luis’s intentions were simple. He was going to try to rest, and hope he didn’t die in his sleep. When he woke, he was going to talk to Miguel, if Miguel showed. If Miguel didn’t show, he would have to make another plan, but that was all he had right now.

He was shivering, huddled in his jacket, arms wrapped around himself. Coyotes howled off in the darkness somewhere, and Luis wondered if they would eat him if he died here. He didn’t know if he would be able to sleep in such cold, but he soon felt the shivering stop and the drowsiness come. That should frighten him, he thought; Luis had read that people who freeze to death feel like they’re pleasantly falling asleep. He knew it should frighten him but it didn’t. If this was a taste of the grave, it wasn’t bad, it wasn’t bad at all.

When he woke up he was cold, but he was alive. He looked at his watch. It was 7 in the morning. He stood up, stretched, took a piss. He wished he had a book to read, something to pass the time. He was still tired, but not tired enough to sleep anymore. He walked around in the woods, sometimes jogging a little, until he was warm. He wasn’t hungry, but he was very thirsty.

He wondered if Miguel would come. He wondered why he had told him 9 o’clock, rather than earlier or later. It had just come out of his mouth like that. Several minutes before 9, he headed back to the spot where Miguel had fallen. He wondered if Miguel would remember exactly where it had happened.

Then he heard his friend calling his name.

“Hey,” he yelled back. A moment later, Miguel came in sight.

They stood there in the grass among the trees and looked at each other, Miguel in his suit and tie, Luis in his bloody jeans and jacket.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Miguel said.

“You hear what happened?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about when I got your message, but it was on the news this morning. Three people, shit … Did you really do it?”

“Yeah.”

“What for, bro?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. You kill three people but you don’t know.”

“One guy clamped my car …”

“Yeah, it said so on the news.”

“And then I robbed the 7-Eleven. But I really don’t know.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Thanks for coming here.”

“Fuck you. What am I supposed to do, just forget about you?”

“I didn’t know if you would.”

“That’s because you don’t know shit.” Miguel started to cry.

“I need clothes,” Luis said.

“I brought you some, like you asked. They’re in my car. Wait here and I’ll get them.” Miguel walked to the road, got a backpack from his car, headed back into the woods. Luis was now sitting on the ground. Miguel dropped the backpack in front of him.

“Thanks,” Luis said.

“You better head for Mexico. There’s no way you can beat this. They got you on video at the 7-Eleven, and they got a body laying next to your car. White people. You’re looking at death row for sure.”

Luis didn’t say anything.

“Get to Mexico. You can just disappear there, they’ll never find you. The narcos’ll cover your ass if you work for them. But go. You gotta go.”

“I know. I’m gonna go.”

“How?”

“I’ll steal a car.”

“You know how to hot-wire?”

“No.”

“You gonna kill somebody to get a car?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Miguel was crying hard. He took out his car keys and threw them at Luis. “Asshole. Asshole. Take my fucking car.”

“Miguel …”

“Shut up. Take the fucking car. I’m still paying it off, so I guess insurance’ll cover it, maybe. I’ll wait a couple days before I report it stolen. At least you won’t get pulled over driving a hot car.”

“Thanks. You know the cops’ll probably figure it out that you helped me.”

“Fuck them. They got to prove it.” Miguel sat down on the ground beside Luis. “Asshole. What happened? I thought I was gonna be best man at your wedding for sure.”

“You would’ve been.”

“I know. And you would’ve been my best man. Oh my God. My God.”

They sat there together for a few minutes, not looking at each other and not saying anything. Miguel stopped crying, wiped his face with his tie. Then Luis said, “Hey, Miguel?”

“What?”

“Listen, it’s gonna be all right. I’m gonna be all right.”

“Sure you are.”

“No, I mean it. I don’t want you to be worried. I don’t want you to worry about anything. It’ll be all right.”

Miguel stood up, and then Luis did the same. Luis held out a dirty, bloodstained hand, and Miguel squeezed it. “You gonna be in touch sometime?” Miguel asked. “At least let me know you made it?”

“Don’t worry about anything.”

“You got money?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. You got it from the 7-Eleven.”

Miguel walked away. He didn’t look back.