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THERE WAS THUNDER IN HIS HEART. But a strike of lightning snapped his vision into the sight of a bright twilit summer sky. He was on his back. On the dirt.

"Sir, sir, can you hear me." A woman in paramedic uniform was speaking over him and a crew of people surrounded him. And around them was a crowd of onlookers. And behind the onlookers was a stopped train. And behind the stopped train was a lush landscape of dry desert hills. Yellow with thirst.

"Where am I?" he said.

"San Diego. You collapsed upon standing."

"Collapsed?"

"You have a serious leg wound, sir. We're taking you to the hospital to get it checked out."

"No ma'am, thank you. I've got it from here."

"You haven't a choice in the matter, sir. You're seriously ill."

"I have no identification," he lied.

"We found your ID, sir."

"It's a fake," Jack lied.

"A fake sir? Are you an illegal immigrant?"

"Yes."

"Are you a citizen of Mexico, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm from Mexico City," Jack lied.

"I'm afraid we'll have to send you back, sir."

"That's fine," he said.

The personnel looked at him sadly. "Were you shot crossing the border?"

"Yes. That's it."

"I'll tell you what," said the empathetic paramedic. "We'll get you cleaned up before we send you back."

"Okay."

"Don't be concerned, dear friend. Our country is in divide but the best of us care for you and your people. Don't be troubled. More people are going back to Mexico than there are people entering the US since the past 70 years. Now is the best time to leave. Your country's economy is accelerating faster than basically all Latin America. Be proud. There's nothing more entrepreneurial than immigration, sir. Your country deserves the help of people like you."

Jack was speechless. This was a kind crew. "Yes. Thank you."

They picked Jack up onto a gurney and headed him to the nearest hospital. There he stayed for a few hours, no documentation needed while under the empathetic paramedic's supervision, and he was sent by police car back to the border. Autonomous police car.


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