Chapter Seventeen
M athias woke to find the truck had stopped and the driver’s seat was empty.
He sat up in a haze of confusion. Through the foggy windshield he could see Rayan standing with Ibrahim in what appeared to be the parking lot of some kind of forest reserve.
Fortunately, the place was secluded. There wasn’t a car in sight, and they were surrounded by a wall of towering spruce trees.
It must have been morning, because the sky was a muted gray.
Mathias rubbed his face with his hand. Was I out the whole time?
He pulled open the cab door and got out on achy legs. He’d never had the misfortune to fall asleep inside a moving vehicle, but there was a first for everything.
When Rayan spotted Mathias, he stepped over and passed him the bottle of water in his hand. “Sleep well?”
Mathias gave him a dirty look. “You’re perky.” He cracked open the bottle and took a long swig.
“I’ll crash in about an hour,” Rayan said with a tired smile.
Irked by the absence of his watch, Mathias pulled out his phone to check the time. It was almost seven. In a little while, they’d hit peak commuter traffic, which would serve as a convenient distraction.
“All right, gentlemen,” he announced, and Saif, Hayat, and Farhan moved to join them, shivering in the early-morning cold. “We’re clear on what happens next?”
The men gave a series of nods.
“We’re going to wait another half hour then get back on the road. Use this opportunity to stretch your legs. It’s going to be a tight squeeze.”
Together, they’d scoped out several human-sized hiding places amid the tangle of furniture in the back of the truck. Mathias had no doubt the trip would be rough, but once they crossed into Germany, they’d be able to make their passengers more comfortable for the remaining journey back to Calais.
If we make it, that is.
The men dispersed, and Mathias’s throat prickled with a growing apprehension.
He took another gulp of water in an attempt to relieve it.
He reached into his jacket to retrieve a roll of cash and turned to Rayan, pushing it into the man’s hand.
Back at Gorelik’s office, he’d scribbled the number of a lawyer in Paris on a piece of paper and slipped it between the notes.
Rayan would be able to call for assistance if they got separated.
“What’s this?”
“Just a precaution.”
Mathias knew he understood what remained unsaid: Look out for yourself. Rayan frowned, but he pocketed the cash and gave Mathias a reluctant nod.
Once they were ready to head out, he and Rayan helped their passengers get into position. Mathias couldn’t help thinking, as he tightened the screws on the crate with Farhan inside, that it was not unlike sealing a coffin.
They drove the twenty minutes to the border checkpoint in silence.
Rayan sat in the passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the road.
As predicted, the crossing was clogged with utility vans and semitrailers heading to work in Germany and beyond.
Their truck, packed with furniture for sale in France, would hopefully appear unremarkable to the border guards.
As they moved forward in the queue, Mathias reached into the glove compartment and retrieved the folder of paperwork Gorelik had prepared for him.
When the barrier rose to let the vehicle in front of them pass, he and Rayan exchanged a brief look.
Then the barrier lowered, and Mathias brought the truck to a stop, taking a slow, even breath through his nose.
Showtime.
He wound down the window, and a guard approached the vehicle. He was young, flaxen haired, and dressed in the same green uniform as the man they’d encountered on the way out of the country. Mathias handed over his license and waited.
“Where are you headed today, sir?”
“Calais.”
“France?”
“That’s right.”
“For what purpose?”
“We’re returning home.”
“And what was the nature of your trip to Poland?”
“Business.” Mathias passed him the folder. “I was collecting a series of pieces from a vendor.”
The guard opened it and took a cursory glance inside. “Furniture?”
Mathias nodded. “Antique. Most of it Zakopane.”
The guard handed the folder back. “Sir, if you could pull your vehicle into the marked area over there. I’d like to take a look in the truck.”
“Of course.” Mathias indicated right and eased out of the queue and into the inspection lane.
“Mathias.” Rayan was staring straight ahead, his voice no louder than a whisper. “If something happens, I want you to know—”
“Don’t you start with that shit,” Mathias cut in, his jaw stiff.
The guard followed them and gestured for Mathias to get out of the truck. Mathias unclipped his seat belt and opened the cab door.
“Do you mind opening the back for me?” the guard asked.
“Not at all.”
Together they walked around the truck, and Mathias unclasped the latches on the roller door. He pulled it all the way open, revealing the cargo box stacked with furniture.
The guard peered at the arrangement of pieces. He reached out to idly open and close the drawer on one of the nightstands and gave an appreciative grunt. “Some nice stuff in here.”
“Let me know if there’s anything that strikes your fancy.”
The guard chuckled. “We’ll see. You can close it.”
Mathias refastened the latches and returned to the driver’s seat. The guard handed him back his license through the window and slapped a palm down on the hood. “Off you go.”
Mathias drove through a separate set of barriers at the end of the inspection lane and merged with the other traffic exiting the checkpoint.
Only when they’d made it onto the highway, the signs now in German, did he allow himself to look over at Rayan.
Their eyes met, and then they were both grinning, a shared relief bubbling to the surface.
Mathias thumped his fist against the wall separating the cab from the cargo box.
“At ease, boys,” he called out. “We’re all clear.”
They found a deserted rest stop just outside of Forst and removed the men from their hiding spaces.
It was still a day’s drive to Calais, but the mood was significantly more buoyant than it had been only an hour before.
True to his word, Rayan—barely able to keep himself upright—passed out as soon as they were back on the road.
He woke several hours later to the rumbling of his own stomach. They stopped for food in Hanover and then pushed through to France. It was evening when they finally made it back to Calais. Mathias parked the truck outside the entrance to the Jungle, and he and Rayan walked the men into the camp.
“This is where you go every day?” Mathias muttered as they made their way down the dimly lit path that cut through the center of the encampment. A group of children ran past in mud-splattered clothes.
Rayan glanced at him curiously. “Were you expecting something different?”
Mathias wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He’d seen photos in the paper and images on television, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it was like in person. The noise, the smell. The sheer number of people crammed together like sardines in a sea of shoddily constructed shelters.
They reached a turnoff, and Saif and Ibrahim said their goodbyes and left for the other side of the camp.
Hayat gripped Mathias’s hand with a silent smile, then Rayan’s, before disappearing into a nearby cluster of tents.
Rayan led them to a portable steel cabin bearing the name of the migrant center on the front door.
He pulled open the door, and there came a shriek from inside.
Farhan’s daughters flew down the steps and launched themselves into their father’s arms. Farhan dropped to his knees and pressed the two girls to his chest, tears forming in his eyes.
He pulled back to smooth their hair and spoke rapidly in a low murmur as they nodded along, smiles splitting their faces.
Mathias saw the way Rayan’s expression softened, and in that moment, the past few grueling days were somehow worth it.
Someone from the service office appeared in the door to the cabin, and Rayan turned to speak with them.
Mathias felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see the younger girl staring up at him.
She stuck out her chin and said something he didn’t understand.
“She says she remembers you,” Farhan translated as he got to his feet.
Mathias recalled how she’d dug her nails into his skin, determined to live. She was scrappy, a fighter. He could appreciate that. The girl released his sleeve and skipped over to her sister.
“They had Amina and Zahra stay at the office to be safe,” Rayan said when he rejoined them. “Someone kept an eye on your tent so you can return there tonight.”
Farhan pulled Rayan into a tight embrace. When he broke away, they spoke briefly in muted voices before the girls swarmed Rayan, tugging at his wrists with questions.
Farhan held out his hand to Mathias, and he took it. “Thank you,” he said, clasping Mathias’s hand in both of his. “For saving me and my daughters. I’m forever in your debt.”
“That’s not a place you want to be,” Mathias said, dismissing the sentiment with a shake of his head. “We’re square.”
After all, he hadn’t done it for Farhan. He’d done it for the man standing before them, a little girl swinging from each hand.
They returned to the house, exhaustion settling in.
Mathias brushed past Rayan in the doorway to the bedroom, and then their hands were on each other.
It felt like weeks since they’d touched.
They tumbled onto the bed, kissing, and then the urgency melted away, leaving behind a weary desire.
They lay together, unfastening buckles and tugging out of clothes, unfazed by the dishevelment of three days on the road.
Neither of them was in the mood for games, both simply wanting the comfort of a familiar body. Face-to-face on their sides, they gripped one another and moved in tandem, relying on hands alone, only needing to take the edge off.