Everything We Bring, part 1

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Brett Parker bounced along the dirt road to the sounds of Toby Keith's “Beer for My Horses.” Satellites had picked up movement in the area and it was his job to intercept the illegals who had made it across the border.

Just after twilight his headlights caught three figures traveling up the road toward him. That was odd. Usually they knew to stay off the well-traveled roads and keep to the dry river beds of the Cedar Valley.

He flipped the switch for the spotlight and in the road ahead, night became day. There were four of them, not three. Looked like a whole family. Stretched over the shoulders of the mother and the daughter was a thin man who's head lolled around. He was having trouble staying upright even with the two girls supporting him. Trailing a short distance behind them was a five or six year old, seemingly naked beyond a T-shirt that hung to his thighs.

The mother waved to him with her free hand and cried, “Por favor! Por favor ayudanos!”

Yeah he'd help them all right. Help them into a cell.


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