To save his mind; to conserve as much rational thought that he was finding an increasing struggle to summon.

*

The roads south of Loreto were rough.

The washing away from the rains had caused cracks and potholes, the journey slowed.

Then it slowed to a stop as they were pulled over at a military-style checkpoint.

On top of a jeep was a mounted machine gun behind which a masked man stood with intention while on the ground several other military personnel, similarly masked and also with intention, stood, rifles at the hip, in silence; there was one man doing the talking. He moved into view and stood beside the jeep.

‘Bájense del coche. Manos en la cabeza. Abran el maletero.’

His voice was far older than his face, almost an aged larynx growl: Ever did as he was told, he guessed, aided by gesticulations. He opened the trunk, just keeping the one hand on his head. His legs were shaking, he felt there was a line of sweat oozing from his crack. Manita was arguing, Ever wanted her to shut up. He was a shining beacon of guilt.

‘Ella no puede bajarse. Ella es muy vieja y tiene dolor del estómago. Mucho dolor.’

Pleaded Manita.

‘Déja la viejita. ¡Ahorita!’

The man said from a throat lined with gravel, followed by a hawk and a spit.

To Ever’s relief Manita finally calmed down and obeyed, leaving Lomita silent in the back of the Suburban.

The Mexican Federal Police were looking for drugs, fighting against the drug cartel takeover in the area.

Ever stood, a sweltering bag of nerves; Manita marble cool; they were waved on with another growl from the unmasked man, hinting a smile as he did so. Ever climbed back in and started up his lungs again along with the Suburban.

The cows and burros, the little donkeys, wandered onto the road and at every corner it was necessary to slow down and be prepared.

Manita didn’t speak to Ever, her position when not driving was in the back with Lomita’s reclined head on her lap.

When they reached La Paz, it felt like the world had arrived to hit them: it appeared busy and informed; Ever did not enjoy the sense of connection with an informed world. From La Paz they, it was actually Manita’s choice, decided to cross to Todos Santos so that they could access the new toll road and avoid the coastal track through Los Barriles, which was more direct but rough. They would then head on the smoother road into San José.

*

The hospital would be their first port of call, in what had certainly been a storm.

Now the journey had an increased desperation: Lomita had slipped into a permanent state of sleep and Manita was unable, for the first time, to control her emotion.