Alondra

12:26, 07/13/23

Mexico City was a sweltering one hundred and thirty degrees. Torrents of cars rushed past like migrating larks, constantly on the move. The nation had seen better days, but her people continued to persist.

Mateo stood with his back against the outside of the tienda, facing towards the far wall of the dingy back alley. He’d been waiting here for thirty minutes and was starting to get worried – the girl was meant to show up at noon. At this point, it was more than the blistering sun that brought sweat to his brow. Biting his nails, he checked his phone.

“Al diablo esto” he muttered, picking up the briefcase and mounting his moped, sick of waiting. Inside the case was over $20,000 - if this girl really wanted it, she'd show up on time!

“¡Espera!” cried a voice from the bustling street, just as he was mounting his scooter. Mateo whipped his head around to see a young girl running down the alley, no older than nineteen. If it wasn’t for the reference pictures sent to him beforehand, he would have been scared. Her curly hair was matted to her face in sweat, her white tank top stained with patches of yellow and crimson. Despite this, nothing was more intimidating than sense of raw energy radiating from her – it was cinematic. She stood before him battered and bruised, but with the light of the sun cascading from her soul.

As the girl got closer, Mateo planned to make a sarcastic remark – perhaps about her appearance, or her late arrival. As she gained on him, he tripped over his own words. Vigour seemed to be oozing off her in a way he had never seen before. Mateo, as with other member of the resistance, had been losing hope in the recent months. But this was different. For the first time, a spark of confidence went off in the boy’s heart. No one who had been through what she faced should be this energetic, yet here she was. Without a word, like Athena rounding up her spoils of war, she handed him the little black book and snatched up the briefcase from his hand.

Mateo would remember this moment for the rest of his life, and the whole world would be thankful.

06:48, 06/23/23

Alondra pressed her face to the cool glass of the greyhound, watching the cacti of the Arizona desert whip by, left in the past. On every lamppost in the desert the United flag flew. Of course, she knew the flag by a different name, one from the past. The blue X stamped across the red background sent a clear message: stay out. It had replaced the star-spangled banner last year, when the regime first took over, when this whole mess really began to spiral. Alondra looked back, thinking of her mother, her father, her last moments with her sist-

“You got games?” a shrill, American voice pierced the girl’s daydreaming. She peered down at the seat beside her to see an unimpressed brown skinned boy looking at her. He wore a Yankees hat and a ‘I heart NY’ top. He obviously came from certified parents, desperate to assimilate to the US.

“I said, you got games?” the boy said, losing his patience. Alondra shook her head and faced the front of the bus as the boy begrudgingly walked back to his mother in defeat. Alondra looked around at the sea of brown bodies surrounding her; all these people were certified, meaning that they could cross the border whenever they want. Of course, the system was corrupt and most of them bought their certificates, rather than actually working in ‘high-skilled’ professions – these people were likely born into rich families. Still, it must have been demoralising for them to be riding the greyhound with bottles of hard tap water, rather than first class flights with sauvignon blanc – which is what Alondra assumed boujee people drank. The new rules began with the poorest people – they struck the Bronx, parts of LA, huge areas in Arizona – but never in a million years had they dreamed it would impact them.

That’s the thing with privilege. It can be taken away at the drop of a hat.

Alondra fiddled with her dark grey passport. It was a fake, as she suspected more than a few on the bus were, but she was still nervous. She had been assured by her sister in DC that it would be fine, but she couldn’t help but worry. That was the last time she saw Sofia in America, handing her the black book and all the documents that she needed to cross the border.

To any passenger, the book would probably seem perfectly innocent - a teenage girl fleeing home with a single backpack and a diary, as was far too often the norm nowadays. Little did they know that the book was both a goldmine and a missile. It was a nuclear weapon and a fine-cut diamond. Sofia gave it to Alondra the day before she was fired from the White House press team, knowing that it would be too suspicious for her to be crossing the border herself at such a time. Therefore, it would be Alondra’s responsibility to deliver the documents to the allies in Mexico. This single, innocent-looking book would expose the deceit of the government and expose their hypocrisy to the entire world.

With hope, it could bring down this entire tyrannical regime.

Without it, it was just a little black book. Nothing more than sheets of crinkled paper bound in leather.

The bus pulled up to the border. Now was the time when the future would be determined. A blond, blue-eyed man climbed into the front of the bus with an unreadable expression. Alondra took a deep breath and stood up, joining the clamour of escapees in their final attempt at liberation.

19:50, 06/23/23

It didn’t work.

Alondra sat with her back against the cold tile wall of her cell. She hadn’t eaten since dawn and, whilst she greatly feared whatever her fate may be, it took immense effort to ignore the constant growling of her stomach.

Engulfed by a wall of grey tiles and steel doors, Alondra felt swallowed. She had passed the jaws of the border and had not escaped unchewed. She was in the stomach of the regime. It started when the blond man noticed inconsistencies in her documents. With nothing but a few spare dollars, she couldn’t even pay him off.

The rest was a blur of scarlet blood and burning puke. The border guards had detained Alondra for crimes against the Union, treating her as an enemy of the people.

Now she sat, her fate out of her hands. Her head lolled against her shoulders, a wave of exhaustion taking over her body.

Failure.

XX:XX, XX/XX/XX

How long had it been? Time had felt both frozen and in hyper-speed. She measured it by the inconsistent delivery of stale bread and metallic water, and sometimes by the arrival of men.

They came in with dark leather uniforms, covered in blue surgical masks and face shields, as if she were infectious.

Today, things were different.

The scraping of the metal lock against the door woke Alondra up. She stared, waiting for her to be swept up like prey once more.

However, Alondra was shocked to see a woman. She wore a plaid suit that covered most of her olive skin, without the protective gear worn by most of the guards. She stood in the door frame, surveying the room before her eyes landed on Alondra. A brief, emotionless smile touched her lips.

“I have sacrificed a lot to get you out of here. Bribes are the fuel of this God-forsaken shit hole” she said, her hands held courteously at her waist.

Despite herself, a laugh forced itself out of Alondra’s throat. She reminded her of her mother – both held themselves like Goddesses but had mouths like sailors. The laugh manifested as a brief exhale of air, but in reality was the most hope she had felt whilst in this place.

The woman cocked her head and a hint of a smirk showed under her lips.

The last memory Alondra has of the border was this woman’s face – hard and emotionless, apart from the smirk and a hint of pity in her eyes.

10:23, 07/11/23

Alondra sat on the plush leather seat, her head pressed against the cool glass. This was a lot different to the greyhound. The woman, who later revealed her name as Cassie, sat Alondra in the car without a word. However, once the locks clicked, she started talking.

“I’d almost respect your sense of humour if you hadn’t managed yourself to get locked up” she quipped, checking her lipstick in the mirror.

Alondra almost laughed, but the adrenaline was wearing off. She was beginning to realise the absurdity of climbing into a strange person’s car.

“Who are you?” was all she managed. Both her throat and her brain had dried up in her cell.

“I know Sofia. She told me everything – in any other situation, I’d be mad at someone sending a little girl to do such a task.” Alondra was offended. Who did this woman think she was?

“You’re not exactly subtle in your Burberry suit”. She mumbled, toying with her chewed nails. Cassie laughed, pausing her lipstick application.

“You were the only one Sofia trusted at first,” she blotted her lips with her finger, “but I eventually got it out of her. I was the only other person in that administration that wasn’t totally senseless. It was the day before she was taken, and she told me everything. I knew you’d likely get stuck here, so I took as much money as I could and brought it down. They’re the two main ingredients of this pit – hatred and cash.”

Alondra felt exhausted. Now that she knew she could somewhat trust this woman, her exhaustion caught up with her.

As she drifted away, the last words she caught from Cassie’s mouth were “last chance”.

12:26, 07/13/23

The breaks screeched. Cassie sat on the edge of her seat, gnawing at her manicured nails. They were already late due to protests on the edge of the city.

“Check the trunk. Your stuff is in there – including the book.” Cassie paused, turning her head to the backseat, her deep eyes piercing Alondra’s, “this may be the last time I see you. Sofia would be proud. Go to the alley and meet a boy called Mateo - he will give you enough to survive. Good luck.”

Alondra tried to say something but could get nothing out but a brief nod. She flung open the car door and looked in the trunk to find her battered school bag, a distant echo of what life used to be. The door automatically came down with a click, with the car fading off into the bustling city.

For a moment, Alondra stood still. She wore the same clothes from her time at the border – Cassie’s journey was apparently last minute, and they couldn’t afford to be seen in any stores. Despite herself, Alondra felt at peace. She looked around the city of her parents’ childhood and felt connected. The bright sky, the fading buildings, the cars, an-

“¡Sal de la Carretera!”. She turned, shocked, to see a green taxi holding an angry driver, flapping his arms.

Reality hit her, and she ran to the back alley Cassie had pointed out. Alondra felt energised, like the spirit of her mother and father’s childhood was with her.

She spotted a boy mounting a moped and beelined towards him.

“¡Espera!” she cried, hoping to grab his attention. He looked up, shock tinting his sun-tanned face.

Alondra went into autopilot – she knew what she must do. She gave him the book and took the briefcase, her mission finally complete.

Alondra would remember this moment for the rest of her life, and the whole world would be thankful.