Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

Carlene smiled and nodded. Elly picked up a couple plates. Carlene said to her, “That’s okay, sweetheart. Your mother and I got it.”

Ten minutes later Marie and Carlene finished washing the cups and plates in a plastic tub and put the things away.

“Would you two like to see my beading?” Carlene asked Marie and Elly.

When the women went into the tent, Mike and Jake wandered back over to the chest of drawers, Mike running his hand over it.

“Well,” Jake said, “I guess I’ll get busy sanding it down.”

“You want some help?”

“Sure. Let’s see. I got some wire brushes and sandpaper over there. Pull the drawers and you can work on the fronts.”

Mike pulled the drawers out and lined them up. He grabbed a wire brush and began vigorously cleaning off a whitish patina that clung to the front of one of them. It felt good to be doing something.

Mike checked in at the reception counter and waited for Raza to appear. Not a minute later he showed up in the same suit, his face shining with bureaucratic can-do. They shook hands.

As they made their way to his cubicle, Raza turned and said, “We’ve gotten a lot of snow, huh?”

Mike nodded.

“And now this cold. Awful.”

“I know,” said Mike. “I had to run the heater most of last night. I have to get in some propane. Do you know where I can buy some?”

Raza shook his head. “They’ve been blowing the refineries up. That’s what I hear.” He stepped behind his desk. Mike sat in one of the chairs.

“Well,” said Raza, sitting, “let’s get down to business.” He leaned forward, folding his hands and interlacing his fingers. “I looked over your paperwork and our data department did as well. Everything looks legit.”

Mike nodded.

“So, I can get your applications in… probably by the end of the week.”

“What happens then?”

Raza leaned back in his chair. “Well, then the big wait begins.”

“Big wait?”

“All those people you see out there when you’re coming in for your interviews? They’ve been waiting, some of them, for more than five months.”

“Jesus,” said Mike, frowning. “That’s not encouraging.”

“Sorry to have to tell you that, Mister McNerney, but it’s best that you know the reality of the situation.” Raza glanced right and left. “You see, the system is completely overwhelmed. There are just too many applicants to process in a timely fashion.”

Mike’s head filled with all the ramifications of it—the cold, the long wait, their money slowly running out. “God,” he said, “that’s awful, awful.”

Raza leaned back and rubbed his hands together as he looked at Mike sadly. He pursed his lips and leaned forward, his voice softening, “If I could get my superior to sign off on you and your family’s application at this office, today, instead of it being sent to Ottawa and sitting there for months, I could probably get the paperwork you would need to cross ready in… two to four weeks.”

“How is that possible?” said Mike. “I mean, how do we make that happen?”

Raza leaned forward and lowered his voice, “Well, it’s possible, but only if you pay extra.”

Mike saw the suggestion of a smile on Raza’s lips. A bribe! Of course. And it wasn’t for Raza’s superior either, he’d be willing to bet.

“How much?”

“Two thousand, five hundred American.”

Mike flinched. That would leave them with only about five hundred dollars. He kept his anger and disgust in check, but only barely. “I don’t know if I could get that much money together.”

Raza nodded sadly.

Mike felt the seconds tick by. “I’ll have to talk to my wife. Can you give us some time to respond to this?”

Raza closed the manila folder containing Mike’s paperwork. “Sure, Mister McNerney, but not more than a week. When you come back, tell the receptionist that you would like to speak with me.”

Mike got to his feet. “Okay.”

Raza lowered his head to shuffle some papers on his desk.

Mike walked out.

In the nighttime quiet of the camper, Mike waited till he was sure Elly was asleep before he told Marie everything that had happened.

“We only have about three thousand,” said Marie. “That would break us. I knew there was something awful about him.”

“Well, you were right. He’s a crook. But I’d bet that everybody else who works in there is too.”

“We should talk to the Frenchman.”

“What? Who the hell is the Frenchman?”

“Anne Marie, a lady who sells used clothes up by the Border Office, told me about him. He’s some French guy who sneaks people across the border. For a price, of course.”

“C’mon, Marie. Do you really mean to turn our money and lives over to some criminal that’s going to sneak us across the border? Do you know how dangerous that is? Think of Elly, if not yourself.”

“What else we can do?”

Mike listened again for Elly’s steady breathing. He thought he heard a soft voice outside. Probably the people in the next camp. “Well, we could just start the whole process again and insist on a different agent.”

“Oh my God, Mike. And add another three or four months to our stay here? We’re about to go crazy now as it…”

“Shh.” Mike raised his hand in caution. “I heard something.”

The sound of metal sliding off the fiberglass of the camper shell was unmistakable.

“What the hell?” said Mike. He slipped down from the sleeping shelf, opened the door, and went out. Icy air assaulted him. He saw the dim outline of two people running, disappearing into the haze of blowing snow. His bare feet stung from the frozen ground and he turned back to the camper. The folding chairs and camp table were gone.

Marie’s face appeared at the door. “What happened?”

“Well, we don’t have camp chairs and a camp table anymore.”

“They took them?”

“Yeah, while we were talking.” Mike felt a sudden paroxysm of rage. “I’m gonna get dressed and go see if I can catch them.”

“No, Hon,” said Marie. “Don’t. We can look tomorrow. And we can tell the authorities too.”

Elly’s head appeared in the dimness of the door. “What happened? It’s cold.”

“Get back in bed, Honey,” said Marie. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

After Mike secured the camper door from the inside, he climbed up onto the sleeping shelf with Marie. He lay on his back, not saying anything. Marie put a hand on his chest. “Hon,” she whispered, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Okay. I still want to look into the possibility of us paying somebody to take us across.”

Mike took her hand. “All right. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Let’s try and get some sleep.”

Mike went over to Jake and Carlene’s place at mid-day. He’d promised Jake some help reorganizing the things in his truck. As Mike entered their camp site, Carlene looked up from where she was washing clothes in a plastic pail, purple rubber gloves up to her elbows.

“Hello, Mike,” she said, “how’s Marie and Elly?”

“They’re okay, maybe a little frightened.”

Carlene’s look turned concerned. “What happened?”

“We were robbed last night, burglarized.”

Jake came out of the tent. “I thought I heard some shouting last night. It woke me, but then I heard nothing further and went back to sleep.”

Mike nodded and went on with his story. “They got our camp table and chairs.”

“Too bad,” said Jake.

“Jake,” said Carlene, “maybe you could fix them up with a couple pieces.”

“Sure,” said Jake, “we can find them something.”