Crossing Over Read online

  Mike said nothing. Marie’s enthusiasm was premature. They didn’t know what would happen until they actually crossed over.

  “So,” said Marie, “what did the Frenchman say after I left.”

  “Why don’t we go in? I’ll give you all the details.”

  They sat on their bed, taking care not to make much noise. Marie looked over at Elly, then said softly, “what happened?”

  “He wants twenty-five hundred dollars … and the camper.”

  Marie frowned. “Well, we won’t need the camper when we cross over. I told you Jake and Carlene said they have a house we could stay in.”

  “Damn it, Marie, that’s not exactly etched in stone, you know? Without the camper, we’ll be on the other side, destitute and without a place to sleep!”

  “Oh, so you know that for a fact?”

  “I’d bet on it. Why can’t you just wait a while? Let’s see what develops here.”

  Marie was red-faced. She glanced over at Elly. “Wait? That’s all we do. I’m done waiting. You can stay and wait. I’ll take Elly and we’ll go.”

  Mike glared at her red-faced. He shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he hissed. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Mike left the camper and walked off into the woods to try and cool off. He lamented the fact that their earlier moment of peace and laughter had derailed so quickly into angry argument. But he had to try and dissuade her from this scheme. It was just too damn risky.

  VI

  Mike started the camper and gripped the wheel. He looked over at Marie and Elly. Today they were crossing over. Elly wore her pink ski coat with white fur collar and a pair of knee-length maroon leather boots. Marie wore a bright blue, puffy down jacket. Mike knew the bright colors were a liability, considering what they were about to embark on, but they had no other options. “So,” he said to Marie, “the money is in your bag, right?”

  “Yeah. In the envelope.”

  Mike nodded and pulled slowly out of their spot. He turned to Marie. “I’ll bet it won’t be five minutes before someone takes our spot.”

  “Who cares? We don’t need it anymore.”

  “I’m scared, Mommy,” said Elly.

  “Oh Honey,” said Marie. “Don’t worry. We’re finally on our way.”

  “I hope so,” said Elly.

  It was late afternoon. They were to meet Julien and another man who worked for him. Mike drove slowly down the road past the other rigs and cars jammed together close to the trees. “Well,” he said, “take a last look. We should be in Canada by tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay,” said Marie, “I’ve seen more than enough of this place.”

  Mike looked at the encampment in the rearview. Elly said nothing, snuggling close to her mother for warmth and security. They were anxious, Mike knew, and so was he. This deal was a wild, last throw of the dice, and he didn’t like doing things that way. But Marie hadn’t let it go and had brought it up constantly. Some nights he’d used the excuse of having to charge the truck battery to sit down in the cab by himself and listen to the radio. The news was all bad. The fighting had spread across the country. Riots had broken out in California. The last report had Mexican general Cesar Robles crossing over at San Ysidro with his forces to, as he put it, protect vulnerable Mexican Nationals in LA. Other reports indicated that it was they who had been responsible for much of the violence.

  Meanwhile, Mike and Marie had continued to argue and finally he had agreed to take up the Frenchman’s offer. He’d wanted more assurances about him, but what the hell could he do, call the Better Business Bureau?

  They drove without talking for about thirty minutes. Mike watched the mile markers. Spotting no. 113, he pulled over and stepped down on the parking brake. He left the key in the ignition as agreed, and they got out. A fire access road cut away to the right just a little ahead. Julien had said that he and his helper would be about an eighth of a mile down the road waiting for them. As they started walking down the snow-packed road, Mike reflexively put his hand in his pocket to feel the reassuring hard surfaces of the .38. He carried a backpack stuffed with everything they could jam into it, and a small suitcase. He thought of what they’d had—a house, food and comforts, security, friends—and what they were down to now—a couple of suitcases, a backpack, a .38, and prayers and wishes. Period. But, he still had the most important thing, his family. He looked up at the sky. They had a little over an hour before the sun would set.

  Marie walked with her bag slung over her left shoulder. Elly clutched her other arm tightly. With Marie’s bright blue jacket and hiking boots, and Elly’s pink coat with white fur collar and her high maroon boots, they looked like they were going downtown for a night out rather than preparing to sneak across the border into Canada.

  They had only been walking ten minutes when they heard some branches snap and Julien came out of the trees with another man. Julien’s slight stature contrasted sharply with his companion, who was over six feet and muscle-bound. Mike didn’t like the setup.

  “We go this way,” Julien said, nodding in the direction he and his companion had come from. They started walking through a forest, sparsely populated with fir trees and ferns, stepping carefully over snow-covered logs and rock scattered about. They followed the mottled tracks Julien and his man had left in the snow. The snow was crusted over in places with ice and every now and then Elly broke through, laughing as she grabbed for her mother’s arm.

  Julien turned around to Mike. “Did you have problems finding this place?”

  “No,” said Mike. “We’ve driven this road a couple times before.”

  “Ah,” said Julien, turning back to follow his associate along the trail. Mike followed five feet back, Marie and Elly holding onto each other just behind him.

  The big man in the lead stopped and said something in French to Julien. Julien responded, then turned to Mike and said. “We are very close.” He gestured. “Just over this hill, on the other side. You must pay the money now.”

  “Really?” said Mike, suddenly feeling foolish and vulnerable. “I thought we were supposed to pay when we reached the boat?”

  Julien again said something in French to his friend. The big man came over to stand beside him. “No,” said Julien, “my associate and I have to go back to the road. There are others coming along soon. You must pay now.”

  “Give me the envelope, Marie,” said Mike.

  As Marie took her bag from her shoulder Julien shouted, “tout de suite!” He pulled a small knife from his pocket and lunged at Mike. Mike dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the revolver. He heard Marie and Elly scream. The other man had pushed Marie to the ground and was grabbing her bag. Mike pointed the revolver at Julien, feeling a sting in his other hand as he tried to fend off Julien’s slashes and thrusts. He pulled the trigger and the shot boomed through the forest, knocking Julien backwards. He thrashed about on his back, his hands on his belly, screaming in pain. The other man ran off with Marie’s bag under his arm. Elly was kneeling over her mother, crying piteously.

  He ran to them and knelt to Marie. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded in shock. Elly cried and held onto her.

  Mike pulled Marie to her feet. “C’mon! You and Elly have to get back to the camper.”

  Julien’s screams made them turn.

  Marie looked over at him. “What about him? We can’t leave him here like that.”

  “Damn it, Marie, just go! The son-of-a-bitch who took your bag will come back for him. Maybe I can get our money back.”

  Marie took Elly’s arm and they hurried away.

  Mike watched them disappear into the trees. He walked back over to where Julian lay in the moonlight. Mike stood over him. Julien’s eyes were closed and he had stopped moaning, his chest rising and falling slightly.

  Mike took the revolver out of his
pocket and walked away and up the little rise where Julien’s big friend had gone. He stood still, listening. Only a slight rustle of leaves above reached his ears. Despite what he had told Marie, he didn’t really think the big man would return. At least not for a while. He walked back over to Julien.

  Julien’s breathing was shallower. Mike looked up at the moon through the skeletal branches. His mind went back to the sprawl of the camp. They had to go back there now. They had no other choice. And no money, or hardly any.

  Mike thought he could smell the camp from here. He wondered if the two motorbike thugs had been at the militia camp, if that had been their bike. There was no way of knowing. They could still be somewhere back in that stinking, desperate collection of humanity.

  He looked down at Julian, then up again at the rise. If only the big man would come creeping back, he could maybe pick him off from behind a tree, get their money back, and put an end to this stupid, sad disaster.

  He thought of Marie and Elly sitting in the truck on the side of the road. Maybe the big man was headed there! He’d better go.

  Marie pulled Elly along. The light was pale and they slipped and tripped on unseen, snow-covered rocks and logs. Elly held back and Marie turned to her, “C’mon, Elly. We have to get back to the truck.”

  “Not that way, Mom,” said Elly, pointing, “this way.”

  Marie looked and saw the mud-smeared broken mess of the snowy trail they’d left earlier. They changed directions and hurried on, Marie wondering what they would do now that their money was gone. She felt guilty for having insisted they do this. Mike had been right. Was he okay now? The thought was replaced with the image of the relative safety of the camper and the camp. They all had to get out of these woods and back there. Then they would just have to wait. Surely the situation there would be resolved at some point.

  They emerged from the woods onto the logging access road and turned to the right. They slowed their pace a little and a gunshot sounded back in the woods, followed quickly by another. Elly whined in fright.

  “It’s okay,” said Marie. “Daddy will be back in a few minutes, then we’ll go back to the camp and try and figure things out. Don’t worry.”

  They walked another couple minutes and Marie spotted the moonlight reflecting off the windshield of the truck.

  Coming out onto the road, Mike saw the truck a quarter mile away. A few minutes later he got in. Without saying anything, he started the engine.

  As they drove down the highway Marie said, “what happened? I heard two shots.”

  Mike didn’t look at her. “The big guy came back with a gun and took a shot at me. I shot back. I don’t think I hit him.”

  As they headed for the encampment, Mike thought about how they were now back to where they’d started out, only worse. No plan and now, almost no money. They would just have to take their chances along with everybody else. They rode without talking for a few minutes as Elly continued to sniffle. Mike thought back to Julien. He felt no compassion, no guilt, only anger and frustration.

  “She’s not hurt, right?” Mike said to Marie.

  Marie ignored him, holding tight to Elly as they drove.

  “Are you all right, Elly?” said Mike.

  “Yeah. I’m just scared.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re all a little scared, but we’ll be okay now.”

  Mike’s left hand burned from where Julien’s blade had stuck him. It wasn’t a deep cut and there wasn’t much blood. Hopefully it wouldn’t get infected. He took stock. They were now out most of their money and were nowhere closer to getting across. And Julien’s people might come looking for them. But maybe not. They’d just have to lay low. What else could they do?

  He glanced at Marie’s strained face. She wouldn’t look at him. He imagined she was blaming him for all of this. No matter, he told himself. She would get over it.

  “I hope so,” he muttered aloud, not meaning to.

  “What?” said Marie.

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  The dark and cold pressed against the windows as they drove in silence. It was the end of the line for them. C’mon, he silently told himself. Be positive. Yeah, right.

  After a few minutes he turned to Marie again, “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

  She glanced at him. She no longer looked angry, only frightened. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

  Mike watched the headlight beams probing the black, empty highway ahead. All his imaginings of their lot finally improving had been a fantasy. What in the world was going to happen to them? He stared at the white lines disappearing under the truck, finding no answers. An hour later he drove past their camp spot, now taken by an old van, with two vehicles lined up behind it. He parked behind them and they slept.

  Marie seemed to be in shock the next morning. Elly was unusually quiet and furtive. Mike found a half squeezed-out tube of antibiotic cream to smooth over his cut hand. He sipped his coffee and thought of the night before. Marie put some hot wheat cereal in front of him and he ate. A vehicle pulled up on the shoulder outside. The valve tick of the engine filtered into the camper. A door opened and closed. Mike went out, glad for the distraction.

  Mike watched as a middle-aged man attempted to back up a pop-up camper into a space with a little Chevy SUV. The camper was blocked by a frozen, hip-high berm of snow the driver could not see.

  Mike walked over to the driver. “My name’s Mike.”

  “Elvin,” said the man with a mild Southern drawl. He indicated the woman beside him. “This here’s Katy, and my boys, Sherman and Bobby in the back.”

  “You’re not clear of that berm back there,” said Mike. “Let me go on back and guide you in?”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Elvin.

  Marie and Ellie came out of the camper to see what was happening.

  Mike guided Elvin into his spot and a moment later, Elvin and his family got out of the car. Marie and Katy met and seemed to take an immediate liking to each other.

  Elly watched with delight as Sherman and Bobby, both about ten years old, immediately began throwing snowballs at each other.

  “How’d you come in?” Mike asked Elvin.

  “We were west of here, camped in the woods. It was too darn quiet for the wife, though. We heard about this place … and here we are.”

  “I see,” said Mike. “Were you camped in a State Park?”

  “No, sir. Just open forest, probably owned by a logging operation. I’ll tell you what, there’s a place I found just outside of Johnsonville where a man sells all manner of new and used hardware and supplies out of his barn. I wanted to on go back there and take a look. You want to go with me?”

  “Sure,” said Mike.

  Elvin detached his SUV while Mike spoke with Marie. Then he and Elvin drove off to see if they could find anything useful. As they passed through the crowded section of the encampment near the border station building, Elvin said, “It smells to high heaven around here.”

  Mike looked at him. “Yeah, there’s no proper sewage disposal. When we arrived there were maybe a couple hundred people here. Now there’s a couple thousand. They put in some out-houses, but not enough. People, some of them, have taken to crapping out in the trees. I’m afraid people might start getting sick.”

  “Well, we’re not going to be here long enough for that.”

  “Yeah? Where you headed?”

  “I have a few possibilities,” said Elvin cryptically. “But I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

  Mike said nothing. Elvin’s comment got him thinking again about his own situation. While he hadn’t completely given up hope, realistically, he didn’t know what the hell they were going to do.

  When they arrived at the barn store, they separated. Mike strolled through the aisles looking at ropes and canvas, old rusting tools, beat-up generators and propan
e stoves, all stacked high on tables. There were bins of wire, electrical boxes and outlets and cords, stacks of cut firewood. He had hoped to find a small pot-bellied stove to put inside the camper. Temperatures were dropping and there was a hint of more snow in the air. And worse, they were almost out of propane. Despite asking all over the encampment, there was none to be had. Mike thought that he might be able somehow to pass some of the truck’s exhaust through the camper and warm them that way. But the trick was doing it with no leaks. A carbon monoxide leak could kill them.

  Mike continued to wander through the various tables for another twenty minutes or so. He bought an old pair of tin shears he thought might come in handy later. He asked the proprietor about small wood stoves and was told that they rarely got them in, and if they did, they went quick.

  Mike found Elvin in front of the barn smoking a cigarette.

  “You find anything?” said Mike.

  Elvin indicated a plastic bag on the ground. “Just a few nicked and dented camp plates and cups.”

  They got back into Elvin’s SUV and started driving back.

  After a few minutes Mike said, “Where were you and your family when all this business started?”

  “We had a little spread outside Atlanta. But the city went crazy and all kinds of human debris started showing up in the county.”

  “Yeah. Sounds a lot like our situation as well.”

  Elvin shook his head angrily. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when a legally-elected president of these United States would be dragged out of the damn White House.”

  Mike couldn’t stop himself and spat out, “Well, if he hadn’t turned into some kind of fucking Nazi dictator, that never would have happened!”

  “What the fuck?” said Elvin, turning to glare at Mike.

  Mike said nothing, shocked to discover that they’d been on opposite sides. He should have kept his mouth shut. Now what? He looked out the window. Like many at the time—on both sides—he had thought that historic walkout in the glare of the lights with the cameras running, was unnecessary and demeaning, despite his wanting the man gone. Then both sides had gone crazy and the fighting had started almost immediately. And now there was no end in sight.