[ WP ] After decades of drought the Western United states is declared uninhabitable . There is now a mass exodus to the East . Because of this `` Caravans '' help people flee east for a price . Write from the perspective of a Caravan driver moving people east .

My name is Rodriguez Bolivar. Thirty years ago, as a young kid I helped my family in the business of human transport; we were coyotes in the Texas desert. Every week a handful of poor immigrants would beg us to take them to the States, and every week we would shuffle them across the border. They brought us cash, we gave them water, food, pro tips, and above all, a guide. The Texas border was no easy task; between the border patrol, armed citizens, and the infamous Texas heat, getting folks from one end to the other was always a cautious task. Business was always good. 
 
 It's funny how the last to arrive were the first to leave. When the drought started getting worse, farming got harder and harder. Soon the government restricted water consumption for nearly every state in the union, except those in the East; now known as the Eastuary. The last lakes in the southwest had dried up ten years ago, and almost all water since has come from underground. 
 
 I knew it was really bad, though, when I had people calling me back from the States asking me to take them back over the border. Perhaps they decided that the cartel lifestyle provided a little more water than the maid service they left for in the first place. Either way, I was happy to take people back. Carrying cargo both ways was far more efficient, so my family made twice the money. Things were looking good. 
 
 Then one day, people stopped wanting to go to America. It was n't that bad of a blow, but it was still a bit of a shock. It was the last thing I had ever expected. 
 
 Five years ago, the drought really began to spread into Mexico. I never thought the Big Bend could get drier, but it somehow did. Now the people that I had transported twice were calling a third time; this time they did n't want to just go back, however. This time they wanted to go to the Eastuary. 
 
 We had a reputation to protect, so my abuelo decided to send my brother Ernesto and I to Florida with a group of ten wetbacks to find the best routes, scout for sympathizers, and locate water sources along the way. Crossing the border was easy, now that the patrol had been disbanded due to lack of resources. We only saw a handful of people left in Texas trying to stick it out. Old white folks afraid to let go of their prized land, I suppose. We made our way along the coast, boiling salt water into a distilling set until we passed the ruins of New Orleans, where the population started to pick up again. 
 
 We went incognito for a while after that, afraid fires would draw attention to us, and crept through Mississippi into Alabama. Before long we stood at the very gates of Pensacola, with enough contacts to make a good path for each new run. The wetbacks thanked us profusely, and went on into the city with their old ID's from only a few years ago. 
 
 Business was even better after that. The Bolivar family was the first in Mexico to offer coyote services all the way to Florida, and there was very high demand for our trade once again. 
 
 Things were great until Ernesto lost it. After departing for Pensacola with a rather wealthy group of wetbacks ( at this point we need a new name for them; the Rio Grande has long since dried up ) and my cousin Alberto, I found the entire group lying naked in a ditch outside of Houston. The only body missing was Ernesto's. I ca n't imagine the suffering he will feel when he burns in hell for what he did. 
 
 Rumors began to spread in Mexico about what had happened, and suddenly business dried up. The last time I was in Mexico, my tio told me to stop coming back. Never again would I see my family. 
 
 Today I go by a different name: Speedy Gonzales. Branding works well with these gringos, and they trust me more this way. Now I run people from Colorado to Pennsylvania, riding north along the Great Lakes for water. Because I do n't have to worry about breaking the law anymore, I have a big rig of my own. Her name is Maria, and she has room for thirty people, a distillation pump, and five hundred gallons of water storage. With Maria, I can drive almost 600 miles before needing refueling, and with demand the way it is, people pay very, very well for my services. 
 
 God Bless America.
