“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 propane 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.
“Look,” said Mike in a composed and conciliatory tone, “I don’t want to get into a long argument about all of that. It happened and I just wish that cooler heads had prevailed, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” said Elvin, not turning his head to look at Mike.
They were silent for a while, then Mike said, “Damn! Where are the adults that will show up on the beach to save us from ourselves?”
“What?” said Elvin, annoyance in his voice.
“It’s from a famous book, Lord of the Flies?”
“Never heard of it.”
They fell silent again as they looked out at the cold whiteness of the forest.
“I’m gonna have to be gone tomorrow for most of the day,” said Elvin finally. “Could you keep an eye on my wife and kids, and watch no one tries to take our stuff?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” said Mike. Despite the now-calm, comradely tone of Elvin’s voice, Mike sensed falseness in it. Neither of them could completely distance themselves from their anger and frustration. Neither of them could trust the other. He decided to test it further. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he said, “where are you going?”