As it turned out, it was safe in Mexico; or at least that was the view from their cage, which they’d been languishing in now for several days. Still, there was plenty of room, in part because “Johnny” (who was in reality a Mexican national named Miguel Francisco) had already been processed and released. Nor was the food bad—indeed, some of it was quite good—or the water contaminated; in fact, considering the sheer number of refugees they’d had to deal with, Coup was amazed at the Mexican response. And yet it was a curious thing to live as a prisoner—however benign one’s jailer—one of those things a person couldn’t really understand until it happened to them personally; until the big, metal door swung shut and there you were, alone. Nor had Tess’s presence completely mitigated this, althoug
