Tears welled up in Sergio Flores' eyes when he mentioned his 9-year-old son. He turned from me, wiping the tears away quickly. His shoulders convulsed as he tried to hold in his sobs.

Flores is doing this for him, for his other two children and for his wife, Matilde.

He left them in Veracruz, a long, narrow state in southeastern Mexico. He left them at home, over 1,200 miles away. He is going to California.

He didn't know what day it was. He asked if it was Saturday. I told him it was Monday. He looked surprised... and troubled. He had been walking for three days, left behind because of his injured knee. Three days. Was it more?

Flores and another man were found the day before by a Samaritan patrolling the migrant trails for those in need of food, water and medical attention. He needed all three. Flores' knee was unable to support his weight any longer and the Samaritan had to half-carry him out of the desert.

The younger man, realizing how difficult and dangerous the journey is, had his saviors call the Border Patrol to pick him up and take him back to Mexico. Flores didn't want to go back. He wanted to continue fighting to cross the border, fighting to provide a better life for his family. He was doing it for them.

I asked him if he could tell me his story. "Will I get in trouble?" he asked warily in Spanish. I shook my head, no. How could he? He is only doing what anyone in his situation would do.

"Bueno," he said. "Okay."

There were 40 of them when Flores started out in Mexico. Within minutes after crossing the border, they were robbed by two cholos, dangerous men without morals or conscience, armed with pistols. They took everything, even the money hidden in clothing seams.

The group continued on. They were doing it for their families.

Not one kilometer away, they were robbed again by a group of four cholos. The migrants told them they had nothing left, that they had already been robbed. The men searched them anyway. Everyone was forced to strip. The nine women in the group were molested.

Flores stressed that these cholos were not Americans. They were Mexicans who prey on the immigrants crossing the border, knowing that they carry money with them. Some, which he called bajadores, pick out immigrants from a group and lock them in a secuestro until their families can come up with ransom money.

Down to a group of 20, Flores and the others continued on. They traveled up and down, up and down, across the rough, rocky terrain. They feared "los peligros del desierto," the dangers of the desert. They traveled mostly by night, following a guide - the only one who knew which trails would get them to their destination.

Then he was separated from the group. Three days. Or more? He was rescued, given food and water, ice and aspirin for his knee, and a fresh pair of clothing.

I am sure it was not the only time he had cried in the past few days.

I asked him what he will do. "Sigue luchando," he said. "Continue fighting." He is doing this for his family, for his three children and for his wife, Matilde.





Hear why Sergio Flores and others like him risk their lives crossing the border...