Music and credits.

What I’m about to tell you sounds crazy. I died. More on that later. I’m still piecing together the story. Each fragment is like a Post-it I was lucky enough to pull from deep inside my disjointed memory. Or from a trusted friend. Or an enemy…

When I opened my eyes, I was in water under low lights. I remembered gunfire and people shouting. This wasn’t Afghanistan…

Like an abandoned puppy, the guard stared at his dead friend’s body. “Is there another way out?” I said…

I didn’t see anyone for a long time. A scrawny coyote appeared from out of a gully, limping. When he saw me, he yipped. The animal remained still as I inched closer…

The sun was scorching. I was so dehydrated I saw spots. And I was starving. Up ahead, there was a worn white sign. Sitting atop a huge pole, it read “Café” in rust-colored letters…

Raul said little as we made our way south on the 14 toward LA. I worried about what would happen to John and Consuelo. These guys were professionals…

Cold water trickled down my face and neck. I thought I recognized Bo watching over me, one eyebrow arched. It was Raul, holding a bottle of water…