Chapter 46
Forty-Six
We changed course again, and Marc drove as fast as he dared.
We had no desire to get into an accident or draw attention to ourselves, but the knowledge that the authorities could be closing in on us made it impossible to drive slower.
We were so close now. More than halfway there.
We just had to hold on for a little longer.
There were more reports about us on the radio over the next hour, including one that said we’d been spotted at a gas station just over the Montana state line.
“They’re hot on our trail,” Marc said.
“But they haven’t found us,” I replied. “It’s been three hours since we left the gas station, and they haven’t found us. That’s a good sign.”
He glanced toward me then at the gas gauge, his mouth set and worry etched in every line of his face. We were getting low again, and we still had about two hours before we reached the border. I didn’t know if we were going to make it.
It was just after seven and the sun was above the horizon. The blue sky was clogged with gray clouds that threatened rain, but the morning was still gorgeous. It was made doubly so by the fact that I was free. For the moment, anyway.
We sat in tense silence as Marc drove on, minutes going by, then an hour.
Then another. The lower the arrow on the gas gauge got, the more loaded the atmosphere in the car became.
We were so close now, fifteen minutes if we could keep driving, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
We were running on fumes, and it wouldn’t be long before even that wouldn’t be enough.
Which meant we were going to have to go the rest of the way on foot.
I didn’t have a coat, and even though it was spring, the early morning air would be chilly.
Plus, I was seven months pregnant. I couldn’t run, at least not fast. We could hide somewhere, maybe.
Take refuge in an abandoned house or building for a few hours or a day, let things settle down, then make a break for it.
That was assuming we came across one, which seemed unlikely since we were in the middle of nowhere.
It was also a risk because we’d have to ditch the car, and when the authorities inevitably found it, they would know we were in the area.
When we passed a sign declaring the Canadian border was only ten miles away, my heart soared. We were almost there. So close. We were going to make it.
Marc glanced at me, a tense smile pulling up his lips. “Less than ten miles.”
“I know,” I said, then looked at the gas gauge. The arrow was below the E now. It had to be enough. It had to be.
I started praying.
With only a little over four miles to go, the car sputtered and began to slow.
“Shit!” Marc slammed his hand against the steering wheel as he turned it, maneuvering the car to the side of the road just as it rolled to a stop.
We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense forest and mountains. At least an hour had gone by since we’d seen another car, which was understandable. With the pandemic still sweeping the country, not many people were traveling. Especially not out of the country.
“We’ll have to go on foot.” Marc shifted, pulled off his jacket, and held it out. “Put this on, so you don’t get cold.”
“What about you?” I asked, refusing to take it.
“I’ll be fine as long as I know you’re comfortable,” he assured me.
I didn’t bother reminding him that at seven months pregnant, there was no way I was going to be comfortable walking four miles through the wilderness and cold. I took the jacket anyway. He wouldn’t give in, and we had no time to argue.
Marc gave a satisfied nod and shoved his door open.
I followed his lead, climbing out so I could wiggle into the jacket.
The sleeves were too long, and my stomach made it impossible to zip the thing up, but it was thick and warm, and I was grateful for it because the air was even cooler than I’d expected.
I tried – and failed – not to think about Marc. He was going to be cold.
He and I met at the front of the car, where we paused to take a look around. A puff of steam rose from his mouth with every breath he let out, and already his cheeks were pink. Hopefully, once we got going, the exertion would help keep him warm.
“We should walk in the forest but keep the street in our line of sight,” he said, glancing at the woods. “That way we’re concealed but we don’t get lost.”
“I agree,” I said, even though just the idea of trekking through the woods exhausted me and there was no way to conceal the car. If – no, when – they came upon it, they would know we were in the area. I hoped we were over the border before that happened.
Marc held my gaze as he said, “We’re going to make it, Ara. I promise I’m going to get you there.”
“I believe you.”
I held out my hand, which he took, and together we headed for the forest.
I’d never been a very active person, but a few years ago, Trevor convinced me to go to the gym with him.
Since neither of us were runners, we’d walked side by side on treadmills, talking to pass the time.
Which was how I knew I could do three miles in an hour.
Of course, that had been before I was pregnant, so it would take me a little more time now.
Still, I thought we might be able to make it in two hours. Maybe less. I hoped so, anyway.
The terrain was treacherous, with pine needles and dead leaves concealing sticks and other debris that constantly threatened to trip me up, and branches that scratched at my arms and legs.
On top of that, it was cold, and after less than ten minutes of walking, an icy rain began to fall.
It pinged against the trees above us and our heads, soaking us in seconds and making my entire body turn into one giant goose bump.
Thankfully, I had the coat and was able to pull up the hood, but Marc had nothing to protect him from the deluge, and his shirt was drenched in no time.
It clung to his back and chest, and goose flesh was visible on every inch of exposed skin.
“Take a turn with the coat,” I begged as we walked. “Please.”
“I’m fine.” He gave my hand an encouraging squeeze. “And we’re almost there.”
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but I prayed he was right.
As planned, we kept close to the tree line and were able to see the road through the foliage.
The first time a black truck with darkly tinted windows drove by, heading toward the border, I didn’t think much of it.
We hadn’t seen a lot of other vehicles since leaving Estes Park, but we’d seen a few, and it wasn’t unreasonable to think someone else might be traveling today.
When the same truck drove by a second time, though, this time heading in the opposite direction, I knew we were in trouble.
“They’re looking for us,” I said, waving to the truck, which was driving slower than it had been the first time.
“They found the car, but they don’t know how long ago we ditched it,” Marc replied. “We’ll be okay if we stick to the trees, though.”
“That’s assuming they don’t search for us on foot.”
He shot me a worried look but said nothing.
We continued, trudging through the forest. My legs were sore, and I was exhausted from lack of sleep, and my round body made every step awkward.
Plus, I was cold and had to pee. Despite all that, I was determined.
We were so close. Just a little farther.
If I could push myself, we’d make it to Canada where we’d be safe. Then I could rest.
The truck was driving slower when it passed a third time.
“They must suspect we haven’t crossed yet,” I said.
Marc gritted his teeth. “They probably talked to the guards at the border station. Shit. We’ll have to stay in the trees until after we cross the border. It’s the only way to make sure that asshole doesn’t see us.”
I didn’t like it, but I nodded anyway.
The border crossing station came into view a few minutes later.
It was small, made of brick, with an overhang for cars to pass under and mechanical arms that blocked the road, armed Mounties wearing masks standing behind them.
I barely noticed the men, though, because I was too focused on the black truck, which was idling on our side of the border.
“They’re waiting for us,” I whispered even though no one was around to hear.
Marc gave my hand a squeeze. “It’s okay. We’ll stick to the woods like I said. Once we’re on Canadian soil, they can’t do anything to us.”
“That’s assuming we’re granted asylum,” I replied.
“We will be,” Marc said with a hell of a lot more confidence than I felt.
We picked up speed, pushing ourselves.
Marc clung to my hand, which prevented me from getting tripped up.
Our footsteps crunching against the forest floor were loud enough to put me on edge, and as we drew closer to where the truck sat idling, I said a silent prayer that whoever was inside stayed put.
If they got out now, they would hear us for sure.
We passed the truck and my heart soared. Less than thirty feet stood between us and Canada, now. We were so close. We were going to make it!
The click of a car door opening sounded, and a second later, a radio squawked through the silence. Marc and I froze.
“Any sign of them on your end?” a male voice asked. “Over.”
A soldier wearing a Department of Fertility uniform was visible through the trees, standing beside the truck.
He was in his forties and big, with a deadly looking machine gun slung over his shoulder, the sight of which scared the shit out of me.
He wouldn’t shoot me. I was pregnant. I wasn’t dumb, though.
He would have no such qualms when it came to Marc.
The soldier scanned the tree line as he lifted the walkie talkie to his mouth. “Nothing so far. Border patrol swears they haven’t crossed, though. Over.”
The response was instantaneous. “Keep an eye out. They have to be around there somewhere. Over.”