Desert Passage by P. S. Carillo

and tried to console him.
    â€œHe probably got our message and is going to call the hospital first. Remember he said he didn’t want to talk to us? So when he finds out that grandma’s okay, he’ll think he doesn’t have to call us.”
    Miguel hung his head further. He wondered why his father wouldn’t want to talk with him.
    After a long silence, Ramón said thoughtfully, “This trip is going to be huge, you know? I mean, it’s going to be something.”
    â€œYeah, I know,” Miguel replied, looking out of the kitchen window toward the road, “we have to believe that we can do it.”
    â€œWe can’t stay here; it’s time for us to go,” Ramón said. “I know we can make it to Santa Fe.”
    The backpacks were checked and rechecked for all the necessary inventory items. Miguel took the perishable food from the refrigerator and packed it last.
    Ramón rummaged through the kitchen cabinets looking for spare change or any helpful gadgets. He pulled out the last drawer nearest to the stove and found something miraculous.
    â€œHey, look at this!” he shouted.
    Miguel came rushing into the kitchen eager to see what his cousin had found.
    â€œIt’s cash!” Ramón exclaimed.
    â€œHow much?”
    Ramón unfolded the crumbling yellow envelope and took the bills out. He counted ten twenty-dollar bills, and five tens. “Looks like $250! We’ve got it made.”
    Miguel jumped around his cousin to get a better look. “Really? Let me see.”
    â€œHere, put this with the rest of the money. Looks like at least our gas is paid for,” Ramón said, handing the money to Miguel.
    He took the small fortune and stashed it in his jeans’ front pocket.
    Miguel and Ramón were ready to leave. The boys picked up the solitary sleeping bag and the two backpacks and opened the door. They took one last look behind them and closed the door.

  Chapter 16  
    â€œI ’ll tie my backpack to the front of the scooter and you’ll have to wear yours on your back, the sleeping bag can go behind you,” Ramón coolly ordered, pacing around the scooter parked on the driveway.
    Miguel took a piece of rope and tied down the sleeping bag to the small rear luggage rack and swung the backpack over his shoulders, “Should we get gas first? Don’t forget we need a map.”
    â€œYeah, we’ll go to the gas station down the road.” Ramón tied his backpack to the front of the scooter, attaching it below the headlight in front of the handles.
    It was still early morning when the boys drove into the dusty gas station. The attendant was unlocking the door to the convenience store and turned when he heard the hum of the scooter’s engine.
    The boys parked the scooter near a gas pump and Ramón was first to speak to the attendant. “Hey, do you have road maps to New Mexico?”
    The attendant remembered the boys from the day before. The last time he had seen Ramón, he had been pushing the lifeless scooter down the road. He looked at it with curiosity. “Are you two driving that thing through two states?”
    Ramón took offense to the attendant’s condescending tone. “Yeah, she runs pretty good. We need gas, though.”
    The attendant raised his eyebrows at the younger boy’s reply. He swung the heavy door open and walked behind the counter. Reaching behind a canister of beef jerky, he took out a folded road map. “Here you go. How much gas you need?”
    â€œJust a few gallons for now,” Ramón said, acting confident. He paid the attendant with a crisp new twenty dollar bill and picked up the road map from the counter.
    The attendant put the money in the cash register and sat down on his stool in preparation for a long, inactive day. He picked up a magazine and looked from the side of the open glossy cover as the boys were walking out.
    â€œHey, be careful out