We See a Different Frontier: A Postcolonial Speculative Fiction Anthology Read Online Free Page B

have air fields in California?”
    “A few, but—this is strange.”
    “They’re between us and Hollywood. Do you think they knew?”
    “How would they know?”
    “Maybe they have a wireless set that can read minds or something.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    Then we dropped. The colorful, jagged walls of the Canyon were higher than us.
    “Can’t we get any higher?”
    “Not without repairing that helium leak.”
    “Chinga!”
    “You said it.”
    Cháirez had his binoculars, and his mouth fell open. “Chinga!” he said again.
    “How could it be worse?”
    “More planes. Coming from the east.”
    “We’re boxed in!” Holguín screamed.
    “What do we do?”
    I though about Xiomara, how far we were from Hollywood, and the prospect of never seeing her again.
    “They expect us to keep running, and struggling to stay high. Let’s get sneaky. Let’s descend further into the canyon.”
    “This is absolutely insane!” said Holguín.
    “I love it!” said Cháirez.
----
    “How am I supposed to shoot them with the death ray if we’re in the canyon?” Holguín was complaining rather than asking. “The ray guns are at the bottom of the Cucaracha !”
    “I’m just trying to buy us some time. If they get too close, rise and blast them.”
    “Now you are talking!” Cháirez kept looking straight ahead.
    But these planes from the west didn’t try to chase us into the canyon. Clever bastards.
    “They’re heading north!” said Holguín.
    “Are they trying to circle us?” Cháirez was showing fear. A bad sign.
    I grabbed the binoculars. They were a squadron of ten planes. There was something funny about one of them.
    “It’s towing something! It’s a sign—‘ Xiomara is here. She wants to talk to Alejandro Sahagún .’”
    “It’s a trap!” Holguín looked like he was going to leap out of gondola.
    “We have the death ray. Let’s blast them!” Cháirez dared to order.
    “No!” I roared. It even hurt my ears. “We might hurt—or even kill, Xiomara.”
    “You don’t actually believe that she’s there. It’s some kind of trick,” Holguín had left the gun blister and had opened the hatch to the control pod. “You know how these Hollywood bastards are!”
    “I can’t risk losing her! We will slow down, get close to ground level and prepare to land!”
    “You’re crazy! They’ll kill us!” Holguín leaped toward Cháirez, grasping for the controls.
    I pulled out the death ray pistol, fired. Soon we were coughing up what was left of Holguín.
    “That smell!” said Cháirez. “It’s the worst thing in the world.”
    He looked at me funny. He smiled. Tried to laugh.
    I put the death ray pistol in his face. “You know what I want you to do.”
----
    The Hollywood planes escorted us to a flat area just outside the Grand Canyon.
    “It looks like a military base,” said Cháirez.
    There were trucks, machine guns, artillery, and lots of armed men in uniform. Only they were funny uniforms. Not United States Army.
    There was also a mooring tower set up for us.
    “Looks like they did their homework.”
    “I don’t like this…” said Cháirez.
    I held up the death ray.
    “…but I think I can learn to live with it.”
    “Sure. Just think about when you’ll be grabbing the behinds of those actresses.”
    He grinned like an idiot.
    They tied the Cucaracha up like pros and motioned for us to come down. A lot of them had their rifles, not aimed, but ready.
    “I don’t know. Maybe we should blast the hell out of something, just show them who’s in charge,” suggested Cháirez.
    Then I saw her—Xiomara, beautiful as ever, dressed in an elegant overcoat with a leather helmet and goggles, a very modern woman ready to ride in an automobile or an aeroplane.
    “That won’t be necessary,” I said.
    He opened his mouth, but knew not to say anything.
    Then he smiled. Two beautiful blondes were standing next to Xiomara, waving and blowing kisses. They weren’t famous movie stars, but