“What is it?” I demanded.
He had a mask over his nose and mouth, but I didn’t need to see his whole face to know something wasn’t good. The worry in his brown eyes said it all.
“The card wouldn’t work. I even tried mine, which was doubly risky, but it was all I could think to do.” He shoved his hand through his short, dark hair. “It didn’t work either. We can’t get gas.”
“Shit. How much do we have left?”
“Enough for maybe an hour if we’re lucky, but we still have around five to go. I don’t know what to do, Ara.”
I wanted to cry. We couldn’t go down like this, not in a filthy gas station in the middle of nowhere. There had to be a way out of this, but, like Marc, I had no clue how to fix things. All my personal items had been left in my room when I was taken into custody, so I didn’t have a credit card. Even if I did, though, I doubted it would have worked. Probably the government had frozen all my assets the second they realized Marc and I had run off. Maybe even before. It was entirely possible that everything about me ceased to exist the second I arrived at the Stanley.
I looked around like something in the store would inspire me, and realized the man behind the counter was watching us. The hair on my scalp prickled. Had he overheard our conversation? We were on the other side of the room, but the store was small, and Marc hadn’t exactly been whispering. Then again, I wasn’t sure if it mattered. He’d probably been alerted the second Marc’s card rejected.
I turned my attention back to Marc. “We’ll have to go as far as we can.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
We stared at one another, both of us knowing what would happen then but neither one daring to voice it. We’d be caught and sent to prison, and our baby would be taken away. It was the only possible ending to this scenario.
After a few seconds of silence, Marc said, “Okay. That’s what we’ll do.”
He took my hand and, together, we headed for the door.
“You ain’t buying nothing?” the man said when we reached him.
Marc hesitated, his eyes flitting to me then quickly back to the man. “No. Sorry.”
The man pressed his lips together, his eyes hardening, and I thought he was going to yell at us. Maybe cuss us out. Maybe even spit in our faces.
What he did instead shocked me.
“Been listenin’ to the radio,” he began, waving to the little mechanical box next to him like he thought we were unfamiliar with what it was. “They’re lookin’ for some fugitives they say held up a gas station in Colorado.”
Marc stiffened.
“Thing is,” the man continued, “I ain’t buying the story they’re tryin’ to sell. See, the government’s been mighty sketchy when it comes to pregnant women, which has me wonderin’ if that woman might be makin’ a break for the border ’cause of something they did. Know what I mean?”
Marc’s neck was so stiff that his head barely moved when he nodded.
“I don’t trust ’em,” the man went on. “Never have but ’specially not now. Not with what they’re doing to fertile women.”
His gaze flitted to my stomach for the first time since I’d walked into the building, and I broke out in a cold sweat. Everything he was saying made it sound like he was on our side, but I had no idea if we could trust him. I didn’t know if we could trust anyone, if I were being honest.
The man’s focus was still on my stomach when he reached over and flipped a switch. “I can give you half a tank on the house but that’s it. Hopefully, it’s ’nough to get you to Canada.” He focused his hard eyes on me. “Get some snacks and water for the road. I ain’t gonna send you away with an empty stomach.”
I blinked, shocked and speechless and still unsure.
“Why are you helping us?” Marc asked.
“Told you,” the man snapped. “Don’t trust the government. Never have.” He gruffly jerked his head toward the door. “The authorities are already headed this way, so you best get moving. Before it’s too late.”
Marc released my hand and took a step toward the door, still staring at the man. “Thank you.”
All he got in response was a grunt.
Marc shifted his focus to me. “I’ll meet you outside.”
