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.”
“Roger that,” the soldier replied. “Over and out.”
He lowered the walkie talkie, attached it to his belt, then started walking toward the forest. Right toward us.
“Shit,” Marc whispered.
He looked from the soldier to the border crossing station where the Mounties stood, their bodies tense as they watched the Department of Fertility soldier. So little space separated us from freedom, yet at that moment, I felt farther away than ever before. It seemed so hopeless, especially when I looked at the gun slung over the American’s shoulder.
“We need to make a run for it,” Marc said. “We have to cross. Now. Before he finds us.”
I nodded even though I wasn’t sure I had the energy for it. I was tired and sore, and walking through the woods had been challenging enough. How would I ever make a run for it?
As if reading my mind, Marc put his arm around me. “I’ll hold on to you. Make sure you don’t fall. Okay?”
I nodded again.
The soldier had just reached the tree line, and even though he was several feet behind us, he would spot us the second he set foot in the forest. We were out of time.
“Let’s go,” Marc hissed.
He didn’t wait for a reply before taking off, pulling me with him.
Our footfalls were deafening in the otherwise silent forest,and there was no way the soldier would miss them. My heart still jumped to my throat when he shouted for us to stop, though, and I let out a squeak of fear when his thunderous footsteps joined ours. Venturing a glance over my shoulder, I saw him charging after us, his expression angry as he pushed his way through the trees.
“Stop! Now!”
“Keep going,” Marc huffed, holding on to me tightly as he maneuvered through the forest.
We burst through the trees ten feet from the border crossing station, pulling shouts of surprise from the Canadian Mounties. They lifted their guns, shouted at us or the soldier hot on our trail or both. I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.
“Stop!” one Mountie said while another yelled, “Stay back!”
