Free Juarez Square and Other Stories by D.L. Young

rounded another flight.
    Pedro took the steps two at a time and shouted back. “You won’t believe it till you see it. Hurry up.”
    The boys reached the roof. Pedro led him to a far corner, then pointed down to the street.
    It looked like a war zone. The charred remains of six, maybe seven, narcobots were scattered everywhere, some still smoldering. Diego wrinkled his nose at the acrid stench of the bots’ melted plastic shells. He squinted and leaned forward; a strange-looking robot moved through the wreckage. His mouth dropped open as he recognized the state police seal on the bot’s side panel.
    It was something out of a nightmare, this bulky, well-armored machine loaded with weapons. He’d only ever seen the bomb squad use robots, and they were little tiny things, nothing at all like this beast, this killing machine.
    “ Puta madre ,” Diego said. “Where’d they get that monster?”
    Pedro tapped his shoulder and pointed in another direction. “Over there. Look over there.”
    Diego peered through the binoculars. A block away from the parking lot a dozen police milled about, smiling and laughing and gesturing toward the destruction. In the middle of the crowd stood Lorenzo, accepting handshakes from all sides. Lorenzo dressed in a police uniform.
    The binoculars dropped from Diego’s hand. His brother’s words flashed across his mind. I’ll be damned if I let you use what I taught you to help that animal.
    Diego lowered his head and thought of the moment he opened the apartment door to Pedro. A door that should have stayed closed. A door he’d never walk through again.
    Pedro shook his head, looking down at the destruction. “Man, your brother’s got a lot to answer for.”
    Diego sighed and said to himself, “Not as much as I do.”

 
     
     
     
    Dumpside
     
    One of the housemaids crossed the hallway at the far side of the Dump Lord’s marble-floored foyer. Standing outside the front door, Deke only caught a glimpse of her, but time seemed to stop as she moved from one doorway to another. He recognized her. He’d once seen her smile, years ago. Kind face, bright eyes. He stared at the empty hallway after she was gone. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t know any of their names. And of course they didn’t know his.
    Chang, the Dump Lord’s suit-and-tied right hand man, smirked as he noticed where Deke’s gaze had drifted. “Such a shame women aren’t allowed dumpside. But it’s a good rule, I think. Can’t have distractions when you should be taking care of the robots, can you?” Chang’s face glowed like that of a child savoring a piece of candy. There was nothing he seemed to enjoy more than needling Deke. “Must be hard living like a monk for so many years, yes?”
    Deke swallowed his anger, resisting the urge to ball up his fist and smash Chang in the face. He lowered his eyes and gritted his teeth, repeating his request. “I really need to see him. It’s important.”
    On a normal day Chang would drag out the conversation, wallowing in Deke’s frustration like a happy pig in a pool of mud. But today he must have been pressed for time. Chang waved his hand dismissively. “Running low on spare parts is not a crisis. I won’t bother my employer with a small problem like this. And if you don’t want to end up scrounging for a living down in Tijuana, you’ll stop pestering me to see him.” He fished around his pockets, pulled out some bills, and shoved them into Deke’s hand. “Here, this is more than enough for spares. Now go on, we have guests about to arrive. How would it look if they found you here, stinking up the reception area?”
    Deke sighed, his anger fading along with his hope. It was the latest in a long line of failed attempts to gain an audience with the Dump Lord. He tucked the bills into his pocket and took a last look toward the hallway. Chang slammed the heavy door shut, missing Deke’s nose by inches. Deke stood facing the door for a moment, then turned