Draven's Run

The large, red sign stood like a tombstone jutting out of the dirt. Aside from English, the message was translated into four other languages: Spanish, Chinese, Arabic, and Russian.

RED ZONE
RESTRICTED AREA—DO NOT ENTER.
US GOVERNMENT PROPERTY.
WARNING: UNMANNED DETERRENTS
IN USE. INJURY OR DEATH MAY OCCUR.
UNDER CONTRACT BY DRAVEN LABS.

With their last glimpse of civilization more than twelve hours behind them, Gabriella, her mom, and the eight other border crossers stood before the Rio Grande River … the start of the Red Zone. Their goal was to successfully complete a journey across the Red Zone and into America, a journey that came to be known as Draven’s Run. The nickname mocked the creator and owner of Draven Labs, Red Draven. Most of them were making the journey to obtain a better life. For at least two in the group, it was a task ordered by the Mexican cartel—they were forced to carry drugs across the border.
Gabriella turned from the setting sun and brushed off her arms, watching as small particles swirled away into the hot breeze. She wasn’t sure if they were flakes of her baked skin or remnants of the dust and brush that had stowed away during their journey to this point.
“I’ve got a bad burn,” Gabriella whispered to her mom. “I thought all of those years working in the sun would have prepared me for this.”
“It’s a different kind of sun out here, Mijita,” replied Rosario.
Gabriella’s friends had warned her of rumors that this area was like a blast furnace, but she hadn’t believed them. She thought she could handle the heat. After all, she had spent much of her childhood under this same sun while harvesting agave plants for tequila in the Jaliscan Highlands. It was just one of the jobs she did to help her family make ends meet.
She tried to find a reason why the sun felt hotter here, especially because it was much farther north of the equator than her home. Gabriella thought that maybe it was because the leaves from the agave plants back on the farm provided her some small respite of shade, or that the farm’s highlands were awarded a slight breeze from the valley below. She decided the heat was worse here because this place was flat, barren, and dry, and there was no place to escape from it all. She said a short prayer under her breath that the terrain would change. At least this river crossing would temporarily cool her and her mom.
Gabriella, her mom, and the others trying to cross into America were called “Hoppers” or “invaders” by some Americans. But Gabriella didn’t feel like an invader. She was only sixteen years old and not old enough to invade anything. Her love of computers and programming made her want to move to a place where she could grow these skills and give something back to society. Her town in Mexico didn’t offer any opportunities, unless you were okay with working on a farm or, worse yet, as a drug mule or sex worker for the drug cartels.
Thanks to free internet access in the back office at her best friend Emily Garcia’s family market, Gabriella had signed up for free online classes about computers, programming, and networking. Emily’s dad was happy to let her use the computer and internet connection because, in turn, she helped keep his computer running and free of viruses. It was the perfect trade in both of their minds.
Gabriella was different from other girls in the neighborhood. She was inquisitive and devoured books like no one she had ever met. While the other girls hung out and flirted with the boys at the small park in the center of town, Gabriella spent her time on the computer or reading at the library. Her mom knew she needed to get her smart girl to a better life.
Gabriella’s dad also believed this and had tried to gain entry into America ahead of them to plant new roots for the family and secure a way for Rosario and her to join him. An activist group had promised a way he could make it across, but it didn’t work. He left for the last crossing with two “marks,” and she and her mom had never heard from him again.
Marks were digital tattoos engraved into the skin and bone of a Hopper’s forearm. These marks branded the person with a unique identification number, coordinates of their capture, and the court’s ruling of a reason for return to their home country. Aside from cutting off one’s arm, there was no hiding this information. Each time a Hopper was caught while crossing, they’d be branded with one of these marks. It was an unspoken truth that if a Hopper was picked up again with two marks, they simply disappeared.
The US government was under increased pressure to look into these third-mark disappearances. Still, the politicians brushed off any investigations by claiming these Hoppers must have died on the Mexican side of the border. They declared that these people had decided to break the law multiple times, and it was their fault for putting themselves in a dangerous situation. They could also direct attention to the private company that managed the border, Draven Labs.
Gabriella still wrestled with her father’s fate as it had been a year, and he should have contacted them by now.
They were both thirsty from the trek, but the murky, green water in front of them didn’t offer relief. Gabriella had stepped up to refill an empty water bottle but backed away when the muddy water carried a piece of trash and a rotting armadillo carcass on its way to the Gulf Coast. She realized they would need to rely on their two remaining water bottles, which probably wouldn’t be enough.
Emilio, their hired guide, had detached from the group about ten minutes earlier when they were about to enter the Red Zone. That was the plan all along. He would lead everyone up to the Red Zone and offer his best advice, but nothing more.
Gabriella felt that Emilio, although a coyote by trade, was a kind man. After all, he had secretly handed her and her mom two full water bottles a mile back. Emilio saw someone in the group steal their water earlier when they weren’t paying attention, and he knew the thief was another crosser, Cisco, who wouldn’t respond well to accusations.
Cisco was a young cartel member, and the purpose of his trip was to carry a big duffel bag of cocaine across the border. Cisco had let the other Hoppers know he wasn’t one to be trifled with. It didn’t need to be said because the two teardrop tattoos under his right eye had already informed everyone. Gabriella, and everyone else, understood that each teardrop represented a murder, and from his demeanor, she was convinced he should have more than two. She and her mom had done a good job of avoiding him so far, but the trip was far from over.
Before parting from the group, Emilio stopped to give the group some advice from his years of starting Hoppers on their journey.
“When you hear anything out of the ordinary, seek cover,” he had instructed them.
“What do you mean by out of the ordinary?” Gabriella bravely asked on behalf of the group.
“If you hear something moving and it’s getting closer to your group, know that it’s on the hunt and you are its prey,” Emilio said in a hushed voice, as if the creatures were already listening for them. “I’ve been told many stories about metal creatures that hunt like animals, circle like birds, or just set traps and wait.”
Everyone went silent with a new fear of what was to come. Emilio reached into his bag and pulled out his last parting gift, handing each of them a silver, Mylar blanket.
“Use these to mask your body heat from detection,” he said.
Emilio gave Gabriella and her mom an extra blanket when the others weren’t looking. “You two remind me of my wife and daughter back home. Please be careful,” he urged as he discreetly handed them over. He knew Cisco would steal them when he had the chance if he noticed them receiving the extras. Gabriella and her mom quickly stuffed them into the front of their pants, the only place they could store anything since they wanted to travel lightly and make the journey without backpacks.
Gabriella had grown up around the cartel and knew better than to make enemies with any of its members. She felt dirty, her dark-brown hair was greasy and disheveled, and she wore old, tattered pants and a very loose, sweat-drenched T-shirt. She knew that, even with her disgusting condition and young age, she was still a prime target for any creep who wanted to have his way with her—especially out here, where they were crossing a lawless area. And Cisco seemed like just the type to take advantage of their situation. For this reason, Gabriella’s mom, and an empathetic, twenty-five-year-old man in the group, Manuel, took on the unspoken responsibility of forming a protective circle around her.
Earlier, Manuel told Gabriella and her mom that he didn’t care for Cisco, even though they were in the same cartel. He had joined Cisco on this trip as his partner, although not a willing one.
Manuel had explained how he was forced into the cartel as a boy when there was no other option for kids from the orphanage. The cartel offered him protection, food, friendship, and an odd semblance of family.
“These were things an orphan boy like me wished for and needed to survive,” he explained.
Gabriella could tell Manuel was not a bad person. He had confided in them that this trip was supposed to be a test to earn his rank in the cartel, which is why he carried a large bag stuffed with cocaine. They deduced, from some of the things he’d said, that the real purpose of his trip was not to deliver those drugs or earn rank, but rather, to get across the border to start a new life and escape the grasp of the cartel.
The sun had almost set, and crossing the river in the dark didn’t seem like the best idea to Gabriella, her mom, or Manuel. But Cisco jumped right in to prove he had no fear, pushing his black, plastic-wrapped duffel of cocaine out in front of him to use as a float. The rest of the group reluctantly followed behind him. It was apparent to Gabriella that a few in the group couldn’t swim, and she worried about them making it across. There was nothing she could do to help them, and that pulled at her heartstrings. She felt a little better when she noticed that the group of non-swimmers held arms and collectively tried to navigate toward what looked like the lowest points of the river.
As usual, Manuel stayed back with Gabriella and her mom. All three looked at each other, nodded in silent agreement, and then slowly waded into the water to join the group. She and her mom knew they needed to cross now and stick with Manuel if the three of them were going to make it across the Red Zone.
The river’s current wasn’t strong, but the sticky muck of the riverbed grabbed at their feet as they slogged along, slowing their progress. Cisco had made it halfway across the water when one of the other Hoppers screamed out in fear, startling everyone to a stop.
“El Diablo. El Diablo!” the man screamed repeatedly, aggressively directing everyone to look out toward the middle of the river. He pointed at a spot only twenty feet away from where Cisco halted.
The group stopped and stared, wondering why the man continued screaming about the devil. Then Gabriella and the rest of the group spotted what had frightened him.
A semi-transparent, bulbous, red shape popped up from the water, bobbing up and down in the ripples it caused. Its single, glowing, red eye peeked over the surface of the dark water and appeared to home in on the closest members of the group. Metal tentacles extended out from the creature’s body and started moving in sync. It was as if the thing were crawling its way through the water and on a direct path toward Cisco.
Gabriella whispered to her mom, “Is that a Jellyfish?”
Before her mom could answer, the creature gained speed, causing a small surge of water ahead of itself. Cisco noticed he was being targeted, and he no longer looked to be the brave man who had entered the water. He panicked, swung his duffel between his body and the advancing, red-eyed devil, and splashed backward quickly. He grabbed the nearest man—Caesar—the one who had screamed, “El Diablo!” The man struggled to escape his grasp, but Cisco was much stronger, younger, and more agile than the sixty-five-year-old man. Cisco pushed Caesar out in front, making the poor, old man the closest person to the advancing creature.
The red eye blinked once and went dark, and the creature’s bobbing head sunk under the water only ten feet from Caesar. Caesar and Cisco stood frozen in a ripple of the creature’s wake. Everything went still, and the whole group watched silently, unsure what the purpose of this creature’s little show was all about.
After a minute of silence, Cisco appeared to relax, laughed loudly, and yelled, “That’s right! Screw you, El Diablo!” With the creature’s disappearance, his bravado returned.
He turned to continue his journey across the river when El Diablo’s head bobbed above the water once again, now three feet behind Caesar.
Two metal tentacles shot up from the water, whipping around Caesar’s upper body and neck. An odd gurgling sound stirred in his throat, his body shook violently, and the splashing, murky water began pulsing with the luminous, red light. A grating, squeaking, metal sound grew louder as tentacles tightened around his body.
A crackling noise echoed with each small, white, electrical flash that appeared wherever the tentacles touched Caesar’s body. With each CRACK, his body jerked violently. His eyes expressed severe pain, and he was so tightly wrapped that sound could not escape his throat. His eyes met Gabriella’s, and she could sense his fear and silent plea for help.
One more CRACK and Caesar’s entire body slumped. He floated on his back as the creature’s tentacles cradled his motionless body. The red light from the creature’s eye made the water look like blood.
Just feet from Caesar, Cisco finally broke his silence and let out an impish shriek. He waded frantically toward safety on the other side of the river, pushing everyone out of his way as he trudged through the thick mud of the river. The group panicked and followed behind him as quickly as they could. Somehow, even the non-swimmers seemed to learn how to swim, motivated by sheer fright.
As Gabriella pushed through the water, she nervously glanced back and noticed that the red light stayed near Caesar’s body and was not advancing on the group. It was as if the creature was protecting its prey, satisfied with its catch for the day. That didn’t slow her down, though, as she and her mom made it to shore in what seemed like record time. She helped pull her mom out of the water and urged her to calm down and catch her breath, all while keeping a close eye on the creature.
The group didn’t trust that the thing couldn’t come on land, so they all scurried up the muddy embankment.
Gabriella reached the top after helping to push some of the group’s older members up the slope. “Hide and wrap yourselves in your blankets,” she urged the group. Somehow, she had just become the group’s leader. When she glanced over at Cisco, she realized he didn’t like that she had taken control of the situation. He gave her an uncomfortable grin. That small facial movement made her understand she had just put herself in his crosshairs.
They all settled in some long grass on the bank, wrapped themselves in their Mylar blankets, and peered down into the river where they had just been. It had gotten dark quickly, and it was difficult to assess Caesar’s condition. The red light remained, illuminating the outline of his body in the water. Slowly, the red light changed to a bright-blue light and started flashing. It reminded Gabriella of police lights. She thought she saw Caesar’s body twitch but couldn’t be sure if it was her mind playing tricks or just her hoping he was still alive.
After five minutes of watching him float in the red soup, she heard a faint humming sound approaching from a distance.
She remembered Emilio’s warning: “If you hear something moving and it’s getting closer to your group, know that it’s on the hunt and you are its prey.”
“Get low! Make sure your blankets are covering your bodies!” she whispered to the group. “Something’s coming!”
Ten seconds after she warned them, the sound of propellers became deafening, and it flew directly overhead. As it passed over, it blew their brushy hiding place like a tornado, exposing the group of silver-wrapped, bundled Hoppers. It seemed to ignore them and go for Caesar instead.
Gabriella peeked from her blanket to get a closer look at what it was. It was a large, silver drone, about the size of a pickup truck, trimmed in matte black with four huge propellers extending from its hull. She could make out white lettering on the side of the drone—DRAVEN LABS.
Yellow lights flashed on top of the drone as it started to position itself directly over Caesar’s body. A bright, downward spotlight snapped on as soon as it had steadied.