“Relax, kid,” laughed a grizzled pipefitter named Chuy. “That’s just the halcón . We’re the ants. The ants get there first, and the ants build the nest.”
Then, they emerged onto the main access road directly behind a convoy of official Pemex SUVs. They had made it. transporte de personal pemex
Luis looked nervous. It was his first offshore rotation. He stared out the window at the distant flare stacks burning against the orange sky, the constant gas fire that never went out. “Relax, kid,” laughed a grizzled pipefitter named Chuy
Don Javier smiled, revealing a gold tooth. “Mijo, I have been driving this route for eighteen years. I have never lost a single worker. Not one. That is my Pemex. Not the directors. The drivers.” The ants get there first, and the ants build the nest
He glanced at Marta. She nodded. He glanced at Chuy. The pipefitter cracked his knuckles. “We’re with you, viejo.”
The bus rattled over a bridge spanning a murky river. Below, a crocodile slid off a mudbank.