Chapter 2: New World Part 1

8 years ago. Los Angeles, California…

"What the hell do you mean!?"

"I'm leaving… I don't want to be a part of this anymore. You have always talked about freedom, and I finally understand. I will be free."

Rage. Nothing except rage flooded young Francisco's head, to a degree he had never experienced before. The young man could have never processed such a thing happening. He would have never thought he would be abandoned again.

"Free!? We're already free! We can get whatever we want whenever we want it."

"…"

"That is why we did this—to be free. Without money, we are only slaves to those gringos."

"Hermano (Brother), please stop…"

"If you leave now, you'll lose everything we worked for. You'll live the rest of your life under someone's thumb; is that what you want? To be nothing more than a slave!"

"That would be better than what I am now."

"Wha-!?"

"I've seen you! The disgusting thing you've become!! I know…

"…"

" I know the longer I stay with you, the more likely I am to be you."

The words spoken flew around Francisco's young mind at a rapid pace as he attempted to process what his sister said. But at the current moment, he could never understand the point of view his sister came from.

After a short moment, his sister continued, not caring for Francisco's understanding.

"I don't want that; I want to live like I'm normal. Like I haven't killed."

"We have both killed! Do not deny what we have done to stand where we are right now!

"I'm not going to deny it. Me and you… We have killed plenty. I understand why I did it back then, and I still understand now. But just because I have killed in the past doesn't mean I have to kill today and in the future. I am out, Francisco.

"So you're gonna leave me!! We are family! Are you going to abandon family!?"

"No. You will always be my little brother."

"Marcia!! Think about this!"

"I've done nothing but think about this."

Marcia's mind was set. No matter how long she had tried denying it before, she knew. Death after death, money flowed in all the same, but she had stopped caring about the money long ago. For people she cared about, loved, and valued, they all died fighting for it. The desperate desire for it entrapped everyone, and she only now realized it. Time after time, she questioned herself about her desires and needs. Did-

'-I want this?'

Marcia had gotten so much money. Enough to survive several lifetimes, yet she was not satisfied. No, satisfied would not be the right word. She hated it. The things she did to get these pieces of paper and the lives it cost to get it.

She stared at Francisco, her determined eyes reflecting a hint of sadness. They had always been together, looking after one another in difficult times. But now Marcia realizes just how poisoned she has become. Leaving was the only option for reformation. Time after time, she tried convincing her little brother; however, he was stubborn. Francisco ignored the consequences and focused on the benefits. To some degree, he loved the power, money, and women he got with it all. Ignoring the bodies of people it took to get there, even if it would eventually kill him. But she still loved her brother despite their differences, which is why…

"Here, Francisco…"

Marcia pulled out a card and wrote a phone number on it.

"Please don't contact me unless you are ready to abandon this life… I will help you then."

She tried to hand it to Francisco but realized just how enraged he still was. She then placed the card on the luxury wooden desk that separated the two of them. Then, turning around, she left the luxurious office they were both arguing in. And Francisco, in a last-ditch effort, yelled whatever he could think, in a sorry attempt to keep what he had.

"Don't you fucking dare show your face in front of me again!!! You are nothing!! Let's see what you can accomplish with what little you have!"

But Marcia did not respond back. She continued to walk away toward a new future that she would never turn back from.

Present time, near Tuscaloosa, Alabama…

As loud as a truck and as fast as one plowing through the forest, a train ran through this relatively undeveloped area. Through the train window, forests filled with vast amounts of life extended as far as the eye could see. Yet only a portion of this life could be felt, as if the window separated it from those inside.

Francisco stared out this train window, looking on as blurs of trees flashed by and wildlife stared. He had left Houston nearly a day ago and bought tickets just in time to catch this train. However, he had to ask Alejandro for money to acquire it, which was something he absolutely did not want to do before. But it would be better to ask for money than request a train ticket that would bring about questions, especially when he did not trust Alejandro. However, Francisco slowly stopped thinking about it, choosing to stare out the window, admiring the nature of it all.

It was the first time Francisco had ever been on a train, and even though it was not luxurious, he still felt comfortable. But next to him was a source of discomfort. White hair protruded from his relatively bald head, and wrinkles scattered his face, confirming he was at least sixty years old. It was an old man who bothered him. Usually, Francisco would not care about the people next to him, but this old man snored loudly, being a disturbance to many. To some degree, Francisco felt like waking this man up, but he could not be bothered, instead choosing to ignore the snores. That is until the old man's shiny head leaned onto Francisco's shoulder. Trying to not have to interact with him, he continued to ignore it. That is until he began to drool all over Francisco's shirt. Although it was old and raggedy, Francisco had finally washed it after months, so it annoyed him even more that the old man was dirtying it up, finally pushing him over the edge.

Grabbing his head and pushing it away, Francisco thought he might be able to get out of this without having to talk. However, the old man woke up, scratched his head, and spoke to Francisco.

"That's my fault for sleeping on you, young man."

"You're fine."

"It's just that this pain in my side is making it quite hard to sleep. But your shoulder was the perfect cushion."

"I said you're fine."

"Hahaha, you're quite an unsocial one."

"…"

"What's your name, young man."

"What's it to you."

"Hahaha, come on, don't be like that."

At that moment, the old man reached over and scruffled Francisco's hair, pushing it down with a crazy force. Wanting to punch the old man, Francisco struggled to contain his desires as he grabbed his hand and moved it away from his unkempt hair.

"What struggles you must have gone through, young man."

"!"

Francisco looked at the old man for the first time. He saw the old man's bright yet aged smile. Francisco had never thought any one person could be so happy.

"Your face looks like a grumpy old skunk, and that's coming from me."

"…"

"So. Can I have the honor of knowing your name."

"…It's Francisco."

"Francisco huh… What about your last name."

"…"

The old man smiled and responded to Francisco's silence.

"It's okay; your first name is plenty. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"…"

"So, Francisco, where do you come from."

"California."

"Wow, California, huh. How is it there? I've never been."

"…"

"I've heard that it gets really hot over there. Luckily, it can get quite hot down south as well. So you'll feel at home."

"Is that so?"

"Haha, yeah. I've lived in Georgia my whole life; could never ask for anything better."

"How is Georgia?"

"Real unpredictable, just like this little life we all have."

"…"

"One day it's 100; the next it will be snowin' at a low 30.

"I doubt that."

"Hoho, I'm exaggerating a bit, but it is quite unpredictable. Are you planning on stayin'?"

"…I'm not sure yet."

"Ohhhh, you planning on visiting a woman down here? Watch out, though; they can get real feisty."

"No, I'm visiting my sister. It's been years since I've seen her."

"Where does she live?"

"…Alright, stop bothering me."

"Ah? Oh, come on, just tell me. I'll stop botherin' you if you tell me."

"…Dalton Georgia."

"Dalton? The place isn't half bad, but your sister should have chosen better. Let her know South Georgia's a real beaut. Nature till the eye can see."

"Is that so?"

"Yup, my family lives down south; I just came up towards Alabama to go to my mother's funeral."

"…"

"Hahahaha, my apologies for sourin' the mood. If it makes you feel better, she went off peacefully; I had told her everything was in good hands."

"I don't really care."

Hearing about the death of the old man's mother brought unwanted memories to the surface of Francisco's mind. His mother had also died long ago, but Francisco did not visit her in her last moments at the hospital. Whether she went off peacefully or with regrets, Francisco did not know. And he did not have the courage at the time to ask his sister. Thinking about it, Francisco felt the sudden urge to ingest to get his mind off his mother. But before he could leave to do so, the old man began talking to him again.

"I had told her five years ago to pursue what she wanted. She had spent most o' her whole life looking after me and my brothers; it was the least I could do."

"…Did she agree."

"Yes, but not without a good fight. Hahaha, I swear, I must have aged 20 years after those 2 months of trying to persuade her."

"What did your mother do?"

"Quite curious now, ain't we?"

"Never mind."

"Hahaha, now now. I was only kidding. I had tried persuading her to visit the world and see what it had to offer, but even I had doubts about her feeling well on a plane."

"So?"

"So me and my brothers drove her around the country."

"…"

"I saw that she was the happiest she had ever been during that period of time. Spending time with family traveling all around, seein' everythin' life had to offer."

"She handled being driven for so long?"

"My mother was always as strong as an ox." Flyin' may have been too much, but driving she could handle."

"I see."

"So what about you? How's your mother doing."

"She died years ago."

"Is that so? I'm sorry for your loss."

Seeing the old man's sorrow, Francisco slowly lost the urge he had.

"It's okay."

"Did she go peacefully, at least?"

"…I don't know; I was not there when she died."

"Huh!? What type of son are you!?"

The old man grew enraged and hit Francisco on the head. Surprised, Francisco sat there, not knowing how to respond to the old man's hit. Only staring at him blankly, feeling a mix of shock and confusion.

"Not even being there for your mother! There's no way she went peacefully without her child there."

"She had my sister… She did more than I ever could."

"And who says that!? A mother loves and needs each one of her children. You only say that to push any responsibility away."

"What the hell would you know."

"Ha! I don't know much, but I do know this! What mother would not want her son with her on her deathbed."

"My mother!"

"Quit actin' like a child! I'm sure your mother would have loved you there. You are her flesh and blood. A part of her sits in you, and a part of you sits in her."

"…"

"At least acknowledge your wrongdoings, son. Maybe then you can get closure."

"What the hell are you spittin', old man."

"Acknowledge and accept that you should have been there for her. Maybe then you can move on, live, and be free."

"Be free?"

"Yes, come on, son. It's obvious how everything aged you. Look in the mirror and see; you shouldn't ignore it. The consequences later on will be somethin'.

"…"

"Look at you; you look as if you haven't slept well in years. How could you with everything? So even if you don't want to acknowledge it now, Just remember, you will have to eventually."

"…"

Looking smug, the old man stared at Francisco and saw how confused he looked.

"*Yawn* Well… I'm still real tired; is it alright if I sleep on your comfy shoulder."

"…Sure"

"Well, thank you."

The man then proceeded to rest on Francisco's shoulder for the rest of the train ride. Where they arrived in Atlanta, Georgia, the mega center of the South.