The Bus to Beulah Read online

  THE BUS

  TO BEULAH

  A NOVEL

  E.C. HANES

  Copyright © 2022, E. C. Hanes

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Published by SparkPress, a BookSparks imprint,

  A division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC

  Phoenix, Arizona, USA, 85007

  www.gosparkpress.com

  Published 2022

  Printed in the United States of America

  Print ISBN: 978-1-68463-129-2

  E-ISBN: 978-1-68463-130-8 (e-bk)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021920009

  Formatting by Katherine Lloyd, The DESK

  All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to

  Lara Hanes Pierce and Philip Grenley Hanes,

  my beloved children

  “And Moses said unto the people,

  remember this day,

  in which ye came out of the land of Egypt,

  out of the house of bondage;

  for by strength of hand the LORD

  brought you out from this place.”

  —EXODUS 13:3

  PROLOGUE

  Maria figured they’d been driving for about forty-five minutes. She couldn’t guess how far they’d gone since they appeared to be using narrow, bumpy back roads to avoid notice. She tried talking to the two men to convince them that what they were doing was wrong and dangerous, but neither would respond. They’d obviously been told to say nothing to the girls or even to each other. The only time either man spoke was when Paco needed to verify the directions. Jose was sitting in the back of the van with the two women.

  Since the vehicle had apparently been used for some type of construction work, perhaps plumbing or electrical, there were shelves and bins along the far side opposite the sliding door. As a work van, it had never been fitted with seats in the back, so the seats put in for the girls and Jose were loose and ill-fitting.

  Maria and Julietta sat on a narrow seat that looked like it had been taken from the back of an SUV. Jose sat in a low aluminum lawn chair. Maria guessed they were using the work van rather than the large white passenger van in order to be less memorable on the road. Julietta kept quiet, but occasionally she began to cry and tremble. Maria put her arm around the younger girl to steady her whenever she seemed to be breaking down. In truth, it steadied them both.

  The road had become quite curvy, causing the seats in the back to sway and rock more than before. After a while, Julietta began again to tremble and then to gag. Maria hugged her tighter and asked, “You all right?” Julietta didn’t say anything but leaned over like she was going to throw up.

  “Stop the van!” Maria shouted. “Can’t you see that she’s going to be sick?”

  Jose shouted, “Paco, pull over. The girl is going to puke, and if she puke, I puke.” Paco slowed down and, seeing the turn off for a small dirt road on the right, pulled over. When the van stopped, Jose stood up and pulled the side door open. Paco looked over his shoulder and, as he started to open his own door, said, “Jose, you stay with the other one. I’ll watch the sick one.”

  Before either man could react, Julietta jumped from the van and started to run. When Jose saw her running, he jumped from the van to catch her, but Maria tripped him, knocking him forward. As he fell, he hit his head on the side of the van’s open door and dropped, dazed, to the ground. Paco leapt from the driver’s seat and raced after Julietta while Jose struggled to his feet. Angry and bleeding, Jose lunged at Maria, hitting her in the face with his fist so hard that she fell back, her left eye closed and her nose bleeding into her mouth and down her neck.

  Even though it was getting dark and she was having trouble focusing with one good eye, Maria could make out Julietta running wildly up the road with Paco in pursuit. The road was narrow with thick stands of pines on both sides. Through her good eye, Maria saw Julietta fall as she looked back over her shoulder. Paco was closing in on her.

  Julietta managed to get to her feet, then, still looking back over her shoulder, darted across the road just as a pickup came through a wide curve up ahead. Julietta didn’t see or hear the truck, even when the driver honked his horn and slammed on his brakes. The sounds and sight of the collision was something Maria would never forget. She turned her head and screamed, “Nooooo!” as she vomited out of the open door.

  Jose was standing beside the van looking up the road when Maria vomited onto his pants. He jumped back too late, then, gagging himself, leapt forward and struck Maria again in the face until more blood, mixed with vomit, covered the floor of the van.

  By this time, the driver of the pickup truck was out of his vehicle and kneeling in the road beside Julietta. Paco, assuming that Julietta was either dead or close to it, raced back to the van motioning for Jose to get back in. “Now!” he yelled. Jose pulled the side door closed as Paco leapt into the driver’s seat and in one motion started the van while accelerating into a U-turn, racing down the road in the opposite direction.

  Sunday September 22nd

  DAY ONE

  Sunday

  10:00 a.m.

  Maria Puente closed her eyes and turned her face toward the warm Mexican sun. She leaned back, stretched out her arms, and breathed in the dry, desert-scented air that blew down from the Sierra Madre mountains surrounding Monterrey.

  After a brief pause she leaned forward, lowered her arms, and grasped the small, gold crucifix hanging from a chain around her neck. With her eyes now open, she turned and looked at her Aunt Marianna.

  “Do I look okay? It’s strange, but I’m excited and afraid at the same time. I hope Uncle Tomás and Aunt Sofia are pleased that they’ve asked me to come live with them, I don’t want…”

  Marianna raised her hand. “Maria, Tomás and Sofia are so excited you are coming that they have been working on your new room for a month now. Yes, my dearest, they are thrilled you are coming.”

  Maria smiled as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “I know you’re right, but still, you and Uncle Luis have been the only parents I’ve ever known. I know it was hard on you to add another mouth to the family after my mother died, but…”

  Marianna again raised her hand. “Maria, you don’t need to say anything. We were glad to bring you into our family. Your mother was very precious to me. We were the closest in age in our family and were not only sisters but best friends too. To not make you my daughter would have been unthinkable, but don’t forget that your uncle Tomás has been a large part of your life as well. He has always been there for you just as he’s been there for me and Luis. First, as your mother’s and my big brother, but also as your uncle and provider. Luis and I couldn’t have afforded to send you to the special schools in Monterrey without his help. Believe me when I say that he is excited to finally become an active part of your life. Do not worry. Your new job will be a challenge, but nothing you can’t do. You’re a strong young woman—ready for a new world.”

  “Yes, I know, but I don’t want to let any of you down.”

  “Maria, you have never let us down—and you never will.”

  * * *

  The AmTex bus that was to carry Maria north stood stark and motionless in front of the single-story white adobe building that housed the Monterrey, Mexico, headquarters of AmTex Transportation, Inc. Maria and her aunt stood close together on a brick patio under a tattered awning at the side of the building. In front of them, in the parking lot, were two to three dozen men milling about, speaking in low tones, each holding a small suitcase or backpack. Standing on the other side of the patio were the only other women who would make the trip, one young, about the same age as Maria, and the other older, perhaps Marianna’s age.

  Most of the men, both young and old, seemed hardened and world weary. It was clear this was not their first trip north across the border. They were part of the endless stream of seasonal agricultural workers who trekked north to do the backbreaking work in the fields of California, Texas, Florida, and in this instance, North Carolina.

  Maria was going north on an H-1B visa, signifying that she was allowed to work in nonagricultural businesses with at least a three-year stay. The rest of the passengers had temporary agricultural visas, which meant that they were supposed to return to Mexico after their jobs were completed, but many would not, thus blending silently into the burgeoning mass of illegal immigrants in the US.

  Maria was thrilled with her new clothes, as close to what her aunt felt would be an American career look as she could find. Except for the nerves that kept her somewhat rigid, Maria looked as beautiful as always. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders and down the back of her new blouse, and her face glowed with the natural beauty that for years had allowed her to make money as a model in Monterrey, but not as one of the wraith-like young girls featured on the covers of most high-fashion magazines. She was as tall as the others and had the beautiful skin and eyes of a model, but she was blessed with an athlete’s body, strong and muscular.

  Like all young women, Maria knew this day would come; that eventually she would fly from her comfortable nest of the last twenty-two years. This was not her first time away from
home, but it would be the longest and farthest away. Five years before, she had moved to Monterrey for her last two years of high school and three years of college.

  She had enrolled in one of the best schools in Mexico, the Universidad Regiomontana, a private school with one of the most respected technology curriculums in the country. Since the school was too far away for a daily commute, she had lived with her Uncle Luis’s sister, Rosalie, during the school year.

  While she always had the comfort of knowing that Marianna and Luis were nearby and that she could visit them on weekends, she took full advantage of her new surroundings and exposed herself to the exciting world of ideas that lay beyond Monterrey and Nuevo León. She had been a frightened young girl when she entered the school, but left a determined young woman armed with a cadre of new friends and the confidence to expand her world.

  Marianna looked across the parking lot, “Maria, see that young man with the red hair standing beside the bus talking to those two men? Does he look familiar?”

  Maria turned and looked over at the men standing beside the bus. After a pause, she said, “No. I don’t recognize him. Do you?”

  “Maybe. He isn’t like most of the other men going on the bus. I mean, a light-skinned redheaded man isn’t the typical Mexican on his way to work in America. And the man wearing the baseball cap? He, too, looks out of place…”

  Maria looked again at the two men.

  “Maybe the younger one, maybe he was with me in school, but not the older one. He is too old, but you’re right, neither one looks like a farm worker.”

  * * *

  A man came out of the building and yelled, “Everybody who’s going on the bus to Beulah, please board now. If your luggage is too big for the overhead racks, please put it in the baggage compartments under the bus.”

  The men in the parking lot formed a line at the bus door, suitcases and knapsacks in hand. Those with large bags threw them in the baggage compartments under the bus, then got in line behind the others. The two women standing at the other end of the patio started walking toward the bus, so Maria, tearing up, turned and gave Marianna a long, desperate hug.

  “I love you, Aunt Marianna,” she said stepping back. “And I promise I’ll call when I get to Uncle Tomás’s, but let him know I’m on my way. I’ll be fine, no need for you to hang around. The people at AmTex said the trip should take from thirty to forty hours depending on the wait time at the border, stops for gas and bathroom breaks, and any unforeseen problems. If that’s true, we should arrive sometime late Monday afternoon or early evening. I’m guessing that a Sunday border crossing shouldn’t take too long, but you never know.

  “Please give Uncle Luis a hug for me, and call Rosalie and tell her that my adventure is starting.”

  Marianna, also in tears, said, “I’ll call Tomás, hug Luis, call Rosalie—and pray that my dear Maria gets everything good that the world has to offer.”

  She touched Maria’s damp cheek, then turned and walked away.

  “Good-bye, Marianna. I love you. Dios bendiga.”

  Marianna turned and waved, but couldn’t say a word, her throat being filled with quiet, small sobs.

  Monday September 23rd

  DAY TWO

  Monday

  5:00 p.m.

  The sound of the bus slowing down and the subsequent jolt caused by its running over some object in the road awakened Maria with a start. She looked out of the window and saw that the bus was pulling up to a pair of gas pumps at what appeared to be a small country gas station and convenience store. She looked at her watch, five o’clock, almost thirty-one hours since they left Monterrey.

  The driver turned his head and said, “Last stop before Beulah. We’re only gonna be here for a few minutes, so if anybody needs to stretch their legs, now’s the time.” He looked at the older woman who was seated on the aisle across from Maria, “Señora, if you and the señorita need to use the facilities, there is a restroom in the store.” Over his shoulder he said to Maria, “Same goes for you, señorita.”

  It had been a long and largely uneventful journey so far. Maria had managed to sleep for a large part of the trip, waking every few hours or whenever the driver stopped for gas or a bathroom break. Since the bathroom on the bus was being used primarily by the men, and was, perhaps, of questionable cleanliness, the driver was good enough to stop and let the three women use the gas station facilities. The two other women had been silent and largely uncommunicative. The older one appeared to sleep for large parts of the trip while her thin, young companion seemed to have not slept at all. Whenever Maria tried to talk to either of them, the older one was the only one to answer, and then only in a terse, caustic voice. The younger woman seemed to want to speak, but whenever she tried, the older one would glance at her with a look that precluded any communication.

  When the bus door opened, the older woman stood up and stepped into the aisle while motioning for the younger one to get up and step off the bus. After they had both gotten off, Maria stood up, stretched her back, and took the three steps down to the asphalt parking lot. As she started toward the small convenience store, Maria noticed that the older woman was talking to a man standing beside a white utility van parked in front of the store.

  As she got closer, she heard them speaking in Spanish, even though they were definitely in North Carolina by this time. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the woman was clearly trying to make a point to the young man, who seemed to be resisting. The younger woman stood by the front door some yards off and appeared to be waiting for her companion to finish her conversation. Maria smiled at the girl as she walked past and into the store.

  The sparse, musty-smelling store was empty, its only employee outside filling the bus with gas. Maria paused to look for the restroom, spotting it in the back right corner of the cramped store. She walked around a shelf loaded with cans of motor oil and windshield-wiper fluid, past the cash register, and to a door marked with a stick figure of a woman. Spray-painted across the female figure was the word, “bitches.”

  While larger than the restroom on the bus, it was hardly cleaner, Maria smelled at once. There were two unflushed stalls and one grimy sink, none of which had been recently cleaned. She entered the second of the two stalls, the one next to the far wall. At least there was a full roll of toilet paper, plus a half-full box of seat covers on the wall.

  She hung her purse over the toilet-paper holder since the clothing hook on the back of the door was missing. Just as she had settled down, Maria heard a loud, angry conversation taking place in the store between the older and younger woman on the bus. Their conversation seemed to have morphed from a simple disagreement into what could become a brawl. As the voices grew louder and more violent, suddenly the restroom door slammed open and the two women crashed into the small space.

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” the older woman yelled. “You’ll do what the hell you’re told and stop whining about it!”

  The young woman shrieked, “I was told that I was to be a cook at one of the labor camps, not one of your scummy whores. No way I’ll do that!”

  “Oh, really? Well, we’ll see what your father has to say about that.”

  “He’s not my father. He is just a mean drunk my mother married after my real father was killed, and besides, he’s the one who told me I was to be a cook, not a whore.”

  The older woman laughed smugly at this. “He told you that to please your mother!”

  The younger woman fell to the filthy concrete yelling as loud as she could, “I don’t care, I’m not a whore like you. I—” Maria heard the slap as if it was against her own face.

  “Shut your mouth and stop that foolish crying!”

  The young girl paid no attention as she sat on the floor screaming and crying.

  Maria was frozen on the seat. She slowed her breathing, and as quietly as she could, she raised her legs, hoping the women wouldn’t know she was in the stall. As the young woman thrashed on the floor, the older one leaned against the first stall, causing Maria’s purse to slip off the paper holder and onto the floor. As quietly as she could, Maria reached down and picked up the purse and held it in her lap. Still sitting with her legs raised, she hoped that she would go unnoticed. She closed her eyes and offered a small prayer, only to see the older woman peering at her through the crack in the stall door as she opened her eyes.