Charla’s Children
Excerpt Chapter 1
We were in trouble. The road was a mass of axle-breaking potholes and jagged rocks. We dared not look down – a thousand feet below was the valley and there was no shoulder to protect us.
When we most needed speed to find our destination with the little light left, we had to inch along at five miles an hour or less. Daylight suddenly became twilight in the desolate Baja countryside. The sun, the needle of our gas gauge, and our morale were all dangerously low. Our map had given us a false sense of security, showing a number of towns along the little-traveled road. The “towns” were actually tiny fishing hamlets, old mission ruins, or isolated adobe huts. There wasn’t a gas station in sight.
More than three hundred miles from home, we were lost somewhere on the Baja peninsula. Our families had expected us to be home by now, and there were no phones or radios to contact them or call for help. The fast-approaching darkness, our nearly empty gas tanks, and fear of Mexican bandits who were rumored to terrorize teh Baja roads, were enough to bring on panic. We tried to stay calm as my husband Chuck gripped the steering wheel and inched along the rutty road.
What in the world have I gotten us into now? I asked myself.
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