“He isn’t here,” Crayton says, and just before he turns around to begin firing, the sound of squealing tires pierces the air. The plastic covering that had kept the truck concealed falls off and its back side fishtails as Héctor, wide-eyed behind the wheel, floors it. He comes racing our way and slams on the brakes when he reaches us. The truck screeches to a halt, and Héctor reaches across the seat and throws open the passenger-side door. I toss my Chest beside Héctor, and Ella and I jump in. Crayton stays out just long enough to empty his gun at the Mogadorians emerging from the church door. Several drop, but there are far too many to get them all. Crayton jumps in and slams the door, and the tires bite into the cobblestones in an attempt to find traction. There’s the sound of another rocket nearing, but the tires catch and we go racing down Calle Principal.

“I love you, Héctor,” I say. I can’t help it; the sight of him behind the wheel fills me with such warmth that it brims over the edge.

“I love you, too, Marina. I always told you, stick with Héctor Ricardo; he’ll take care of you.”

“I never doubted it once,” I say, which is a lie; I had doubted it this morning.

We reach the bottom of the hill and fly past the signs announcing the town limits.

I twist around to peer out the back window as Santa Teresa quickly fades behind us. I know it’s the last time I’ll ever see it and though I’ve waited years to leave, it now holds the sacredness of being Adelina’s last resting place. Soon the town is gone, left behind.

“Thank you, Señorita Marina,” Héctor says.

“For what?”

“I know it was you who cured my dear mother. She told me it was you, that you were her angel; and I’ll never be able to repay you for it.”

“You already have, Héctor. I was very happy to help.”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t yet, but I’m sure going to try.”

While Crayton refills both clips and takes inventory of his ammo, Héctor navigates the windy and unpredictable road. We bounce and skid along the sharp turns and sudden hills. But despite the speed, it doesn’t take long for a convoy of vehicles to be seen in the distance behind us.

“Don’t worry about them,” Crayton says. “Just get us to the lake.”

Even though the truck is barreling down the road, the convoy closes the gap. After ten minutes, a flash of light sails just over the truck and explodes into the countryside ahead of us. Héctor instinctively jerks his head down.

“My God!” he says.