“Outside,” I agreed.
He rushed from the store.
When he was gone, the man focused on me. “Best get going, too. They won’t be long.”
I hurried to the snacks, grabbing things at random despite my earlier resolve to check expiration dates. I didn’t want to take advantage, so I only took a few things, as well as two bottles of water, but hoped it would be enough to tide us over until we made it to Canada.
My arms full, I rushed to the front of the store but paused beside the register. “You’re going to get in trouble for this.”
“Naw,” the man replied with a shrug. “I’ll tell ’em you left without getting gas.”
I gestured to the camera mounted on the wall behind him. “And the footage?”
He let out a raspy laugh. “That thing ain’t worked in years. You’ll be okay.”
I exhaled in relief as I took a step toward the door. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The man sobered. “It ain’t right what they’redoin’ to you. It ain’t.”
I gave him a sad smile even though it was covered by my mask. “If only more people thought that.”
He nodded, and I returned the gesture, then I spun on my heel and ran from the store.
Marc was just putting the lid back on the gas tank when I reached him.
“You ready?”
“Yes,” I said, breathless from my mad dash through the store.
He waved to the car. “Let’s go.”
We were on the road less than a minute later.
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.
“While the attendant claims to have not seen the woman and only gotten a passing glimpse of the man, he did confirm that a couple driving a 2065 black Honda Civic pulled into the parking lot around four o’clock in the morning. Apparently, the man tried two credit cards, both of which were rejected, then sped away. Authorities are asking that all Montana residents be on the lookout for the couple, who are believed to be trying to reach Canada.”
“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 theborder. 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.
