Ed would’ve quit his job if he’d had one to jump in a pickup high on four big wheels and speed down here to stop millions of illegal aliens from invading his country and committing crimes, devouring welfare and health care, and overcrowding classrooms. Those people had also destroyed integrity on building sites, jabbering in Spanish before stealing his job for nonunion wages and destroying his marriage. It was time Ed holstered a pistol, clutched his rifle, and aimed binoculars.
He saw a big desert and little else three straight days and this afternoon tried to find a tree whose nonexistence prompted him to drive around downshifting and cursing for hours before he spotted a tree already shading two other patriots who welcomed him and agreed it was aggravating they’d seen no one but each other. After recovering they entered two big trucks and began to search, knowing out there illegals were hiding behind cactuses, on the far side of sand dunes, and under tumbleweeds, waiting to flee. The men got tired and stopped to crack some beers in back of Ed’s truck and listen to Hank Williams, Jr., king of Monday Night Football. Ed checked a map and noted a place highlighted as hot and motioned the other guys to follow. Once there they parked at the base of a hill they circled, finding worn jackets, tattered paper, and other trash. Tiptoeing back just over the hill they sat among bushes.
“This is it,” said Ed, feeling ready for a big buck to run by. They ate sandwiches and sipped beers and told stories till late night when Bill said, “Ain’t shit out here,” and Joe waved quiet before steps and voices activated big flashlights and they swarmed down the hill toward three people running. Ed fired a warning shot but the aliens kept fleeing, so the other hunters started real shooting and a man went down and the other two stopped, pointing hands at stars.
Bill and Joe checked a calf wound, which wasn’t serious, and one on each shoulder they helped the man limp to truck while Ed at gunpoint brought the other two aliens in.
“Joe, you get in back of Bill’s truck and keep eye on the two guys. I’ll follow and take the lady to jail.”
The lead truck fired several miles of sand into Ed’s headlights and windshield before he said, I know a better way,” and pointed ninety degrees away from the lead truck.
“Tu casa?” she asked.
“Just to clean you up.”