by Hamel, B. B.
I woke up groggily to the sun rising up over the horizon, the light streaming in through the glass. I was curled up in the back seat of the car, and for a second I thought I was back home in my bed.
But as memories of the night before came crashing down on me, that illusion was entirely shattered.
Camden lay in the front seat, his head cocked to one side, still asleep. Last night, when he realized that I was falling asleep, he opened the doors and made me curl up in the back where I’d have enough room to at least sprawl out a little bit. I passed out, and he must have slept sitting up all night so that I had enough room.
I smiled softly to myself. And then the image of him strangling that man to death, his eyes wild with fury, hit me square in the chest. I gasped out loud and felt like I could barely breathe.
I had watched him kill a man. I knew he killed the other one as well; I had heard the shots. When the struggle started with the second man, I came out of the bathroom and watched as Camden gained the upper hand and killed him then and there.
I knew he had to do it. I knew it was for the best. But that image was seared into my brain, both horrifying and incredible. It was brutal and sudden and real, too fucking real.
The whole thing hadn’t felt real until that moment. It felt like Camden had kidnapped me and made me drive across the country with him like a madman. It hadn’t felt like real danger until those two guys showed up and forced Camden to fight.
Slowly, the image of Camden choking the man to death was replaced with the memory of what came after. In that moment I had needed him, wanted him badly, more than anything else in the world. I saw what he was willing to do to keep me safe, and I realized that he wasn’t full of shit. And when he told me the truth about why he was involved with the cartel, it all but made up my mind.
He never wanted any of this. He never wanted us involved, never wanted to go on the run with me. And he was willing to kill with his bare hands to get us all out of it.
“You awake?”
I nearly jumped out of my seat at the sound of his voice. “You scared me.”
“A little distracted back there?” He was looking at me, concerned.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Remembering the orgasm I gave you, I’m sure.”
“Something like that.”
He laughed at me and grinned. I wanted to reach up and touch his face, and I wanted to get out of the car and run away. I wanted him and I was afraid of him, and I wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger in that moment.
He must have noticed that something was up, because his face fell pretty quickly.
“We need to ditch this car and get another.”
“Can we get breakfast first?”
“Sure. Then we steal a car and cross the border.”
I paused. “We’re close?”
“Yeah. We should be able to cross today.”
“Washington,” I said pensively. “I’ve never been in this state before.”
“Ever been to Canada before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You’re in for a treat then.”
“Why?”
“Because Canada has the best roads in the world. And Tim Horton’s.”
“Tim Horton’s?”
“You’ll see.” He started the engine. “You can stay back there.”
I pushed the door open and climbed into the front seat. “Take me to food.”
He grinned at me but didn’t say anything. We pulled back onto the road.
I hated brushing my teeth and washing my face in the sink of a dirty diner’s bathroom, but that was about the best we could do. I was going on day two without a shower, and I was guessing I smelled pretty bad.
Still, with a stomach full of pancakes, we hit the road again and drove all day. Camden was oddly quiet, even when I tried to make conversation, and so the miles passed by without much comment.
Which was fine with me. I was starting to get used to the rhythm of the road. Although I was bored out of my mind, I definitely preferred the boredom to the excitement of what had happened in our motel room the night before. Though the excitement of what had happened in the car after, that would have been welcome.
Around four in the afternoon, I saw a sign flash by.
“Border in five miles?” I asked him.
“Looks that way.”
“Are we ready for this?”
“Not quite yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to stop and get our fakes.”
“Right. I forgot about that. Aren’t we supposed to be in Seattle for that?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. We need to stop and call my guy.”
About ten minutes later, Camden pulled off the road and headed into a small town. It took us another hour of driving before we found a pay phone. I almost couldn’t believe that it still existed, much less worked, but there it was.
“It’s like a dinosaur,” I said.
“A dinosaur that works, at least.” He dropped in two quarters and dialed a number. “Is this Jim?” I was only getting one side of the conversation, but Camden seemed at ease. “It’s Camden,” he said. “I need documents.” There was a long pause. “Small town near the border. Tiny place called Maple Falls.” Another long pause. “Soon as possible. We’re standing outside of a drug store.” He hung up the phone and looked at me.
“What happened?”
“He said he’d be here in two hours.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m going to pay him a huge chunk of our money, but we’ll get across with his documents at least.”
I leaned up against the wall. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“What can I say? I’m incredible.”
“Why aren’t we going to Seattle, by the way?”
He frowned. “I guess we should talk about that.” He walked over to the curb and sat down. I walked over and sat down beside him, close enough for our legs to touch.
Maple Falls was a tiny place, pretty much one street. It looked like the town time had forgotten, which probably explained why they still had a working pay phone. There was one single drug store, not even a chain place, and there was still an open Blockbuster next to that. There was one restaurant, some kind of Italian if I had to guess, and one clothing store.
Basically, we were completely alone on the main street, and it didn’t look like anyone was coming any time soon. Really, it didn’t look like anything was going to happen any time in the next century.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“We shouldn’t have been found last night,” he said.
“I know.”
“I was following a route Trip gave me.”
I stared at him, mind racing. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t need to. It didn’t seem important.” He shook his head. “But it seems insane that they would have tracked us down to that exact place. I was being careful.”
“Do you trust Trip?” I asked suddenly.
“If you had asked me that before last night, I would have said with my life. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“My parents are with him,” I said softly.
“Our parents.”
“We have to get them back.”
“And we will. When we’re in Alaska. But that’s why I didn’t want to go to Seattle. We need to be extra careful from now on.”
“Are we still following his route?”
“Not anymore. And we won’t anymore until we get to Juneau.”
“What do we do once we’re there?”
“I have a number to call.”
“That’s it?”
He sighed. “That’s it.”
“This is insane, Camden.”
“I know. But we have to play this thing out, see where it leads.”
“Shit,” I said.
He moved closed to me, his body pressing up against mine. “I love your dirty mouth,” he said, smirking.
“Knock it off.”
“I can’t help it. I keep thinking about that sweet pussy of yours.”
“How can you transition from your friend betraying us to sex?”
“It’s easy. You drive me fucking insane.”
“Do you really think he betrayed us?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.”
“Camden,” I said softly, “I’m afraid.”
He reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling me closer to him gently. I let out a gasp as he kissed my mouth roughly. Excitement ran through my spine as he pushed his mouth harder against mine, kissing me deep and hard. After a minute, he moved away, his hand still holding my hair.
“Don’t be,” he said. “You’re with me.”
It took more than two hours for his criminal friend to show up.
“How do you even know this person?” I asked him once it was clear he was late.
“Met him in Mexico,” he said. “He supplied some documents to the cartel men. I’m usually good with names and numbers.”
“And he remembered you?”
“Apparently. Not a lot of gringos working for the cartel.”
Around the third hour, a large white van with no windows in the back came rambling slowly down the street. Camden stood and crossed his arms, watching as the van slowly pulled over in front of us. It was the first car we’d seen in almost an hour.
“Jim?” he called out.
The tinted window rolled down. “Hello, Camden.”
He grinned and walked up to the van, shaking the man’s hand. He was old, with wild graying hair and sharp blue eyes. His white beard was trimmed close and his long hair was tied back in a ponytail. He pulled the van over next to our car and parked it.
“Let’s see what we’re doing,” Jim said, stepping out. He looked me over and nodded. “Just the passports and licenses?”
“Standard fare,” Camden said.
“No problem. But it’s going to cost you a lot, getting me out here like this.”
“Fine. Whatever you want.”
He nodded and opened the door to his van. “Come on, you first,” he said, gesturing at me.
I stood up and followed him into the back. I was shocked at what I saw. Inside, it was like a police stakeout van from the movies, except it was filled with equipment to make fake documents. He sat me down in front of a simple white backdrop on a tiny stool and told me not to move.
“Ever have a passport photo taken before?” he asked.
“I have.”
“So many people in your generation don’t bother getting one.”
“We don’t get to travel as much, I guess.”
He took a picture without telling me. “Maybe that’s true.”
“Wait, can you take it again?”
He laughed. “Sure, for an extra fifty bucks.”
I shut my mouth as he got to work. I felt uncomfortable around him. He was older, but he was far from friendly, and he was working methodically to put together a few things. Machines whirred and printed, and he meticulously pasted on images and drew in watermarks.
I watched it all in stunned silence. When he was finished, he handed me a passport and a driver’s license from California.
“Lucy May?” I asked.
“That’s your name. Memorize all that info, too.”
I looked at the birthday. “I’m not twenty-eight.”
“Close enough. Now get out of here.”
I climbed out of the van. “Dick,” I mumbled.
Camden grinned as I approached. “How’d it go?”
“You can call me Lucy,” I grumbled.
“Camden,” Jim called out. “Your turn.”
While he went through the same weird process I just went through, I sat on the curb and memorized my new identity. By the time Camden came back, grinning ear to ear, I had it down pretty well.
“And?” I said to him.
“You can call me Cincinnati.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “His idea of a joke, I guess.”
“That’s insane.”
“Maybe. But the quality is incredible, especially considering this was all last minute.”
“Payment time,” Jim said, coming around the van and interrupting us.
Camden went into the car and pulled out the duffle. He unzipped it and began to count out stacks.
Jim was suddenly very still. His face was impassive, but I noticed the change in his demeanor immediately.
“Here’s five thousand, like you said.”
He looked at the stacks in Camden’s hand. He glanced at me and then moved fast. He whipped a gun out from the waistband of his pants and aimed it directly at Camden’s face.
“What are you doing?” Camden asked.
“This just became an old-fashioned robbery,” Jim replied.
“You son of a bitch,” Camden growled. “We need this.”
“So do I. You think it’s easy living like I do? That kind of cash could change my fucking world.”
“I can’t give this to you.”
Jim pressed the barrel of the gun against Camden’s forehead. “Hand it over.”
“Do it, Camden,” I said, my whole body stiff with fear.
Reluctantly, Camden handed over the bag. Grinning, Jim slung it over his shoulder and slowly backed toward the car.
“I’ll let you keep those documents,” he said.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“You just made a serious enemy,” Camden said, staring Jim down.
“I know. But you’ll never see me again, so who cares?”
Jim climbed into his van, still aiming the gun at Camden.
“Never stop driving,” Camden said slowly. “Otherwise, I’ll catch you.”
“Maybe next time.” He waved, started the van, and then drove away.
I stood next to Camden, watching the van slowly disappear down the street. “What do we do now?” I asked him.
He grinned at me and walked over to the car. He opened the trunk and gestured for me to join him. I walked over and stood next to him, looking down. He lifted up the spare tire’s cover and laughed.
Shoved down inside the spare tire were fat rolls of money.
“What the hell?” I said, laughing along with him. “You had more?”
“I’m paranoid,” he said. “I like to keep some separate, just in case.”
“How much is that?”
“Enough to get us there. But not much.”
I laughed and kissed him again, his arms wrapping around my waist. “Canada?” I asked after a second.
“Canada.”
It was dark when we got to the border crossing.
There were only a few cars ahead of us as we queued for the guards. We didn’t speak, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I went over the information on my documents over and over again in my head, making sure I knew every date by heart.
“Remember,” Camden said suddenly, “don’t hesitate when they ask you something. This is who you are now.”
“I got it.”
He looked at me and smiled. “You’re going to be fine, Lucy.”
“I know, Cincinnati.”
“Call me Nate. All my friends do.”
“Friends?”
“Sure. Hundreds of them.”
“I find that hard to believe. Did Jim fake them, too?”
He laughed and we pulled up a spot. I felt a little better, but I still kept going over the facts in my head.
This was the first time we were coming across an authority figure. In all our time driving stolen cars and shooting guns, we hadn’t come up against the police yet. I was nervous they were going to spot the problems with our story right away and throw us in handcuffs.
“What if they’re looking for you?” I asked suddenly.
He sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t think of that.”
“You mean that’s possible?”
He looked at me. “I killed three people in the last week.
Yes, it’s possible.”
I sat back, stunned into silence as we advanced another car. We were one away, and I could see the border guards eyeing us up from their booths. I suddenly felt like a criminal, and the full magnitude of what was happening sunk in.
I was in a car with a man who had killed. We had cash in the trunk, guns up front, and we were traveling with fake documents. If something went wrong, we were both going to jail.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I’ll get us through this.”
My heart was racing as the car in front of us pulled forward.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
He pulled up and stopped, rolling down his window.
“Documents, please,” the guard said.
Camden handed him both of our fake passports. The man made a show of looking at them and glancing up at us.
“Names?”
“Cincinnati Benadictus,” Camden said. “But call me Nate.”
The guard looked at me. “Name, please.”
“Lucy May.”
He looked back down, studying the documents. After a second, he looked back up. “Reason for your visit, sir?”
“Vacation.”
“You, miss?”
“Same for me,” I said.
“Where are you guys headed?”
“Vancouver. We hear the beer there is fantastic.”
The guard didn’t smile, just handed him back the documents. “Anything to declare?”
“Just my love of your fine country.”
He frowned. “Please, sir. Anything of value to declare? Any cash or illegal substances we should be aware of?”
“No. Nothing.”
The guard stared at us for a second. “What about you?” he said, looking at me.
“Me?”
“Yes. Anything to declare, miss?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing.”
“Baby formula? Plants? Grains or seeds?”
“None of that,” I said.
He nodded. My heart was about to jump out of my ribcage.
“Have a nice trip,” he said, and the gate in front of us rose.
Camden accelerated smoothly past the guards and over the border.
“Welcome to Canada,” he said, grinning.
I felt like I was going to pass out with relief.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to be here,” I said.
“Nobody feels this excited for Canada.”
“Except criminals.”
