Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

They had only been walking ten minutes when they heard some branches snap and Julien came out of the trees with another man. Julien’s slight stature contrasted sharply with his companion, who was over six feet and muscle-bound. Mike didn’t like the setup.

“We go this way,” Julien said, nodding in the direction he and his companion had come from. They started walking through a forest, sparsely populated with fir trees and ferns, stepping carefully over snow-covered logs and rock scattered about. They followed the mottled tracks Julien and his man had left in the snow. The snow was crusted over in places with ice and every now and then Elly broke through, laughing as she grabbed for her mother’s arm.

Julien turned around to Mike. “Did you have problems finding this place?”

“No,” said Mike. “We’ve driven this road a couple times before.”

“Ah,” said Julien, turning back to follow his associate along the trail. Mike followed five feet back, Marie and Elly holding onto each other just behind him.

The big man in the lead stopped and said something in French to Julien. Julien responded, then turned to Mike and said. “We are very close.” He gestured. “Just over this hill, on the other side. You must pay the money now.”

“Really?” said Mike, suddenly feeling foolish and vulnerable. “I thought we were supposed to pay when we reached the boat?”

Julien again said something in French to his friend. The big man came over to stand beside him. “No,” said Julien, “my associate and I have to go back to the road. There are others coming along soon. You must pay now.”

“Give me the envelope, Marie,” said Mike.

As Marie took her bag from her shoulder Julien shouted, “tout de suite!” He pulled a small knife from his pocket and lunged at Mike. Mike dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the revolver. He heard Marie and Elly scream. The other man had pushed Marie to the ground and was grabbing her bag. Mike pointed the revolver at Julien, feeling a sting in his other hand as he tried to fend off Julien’s slashes and thrusts. He pulled the trigger and the shot boomed through the forest, knocking Julien backwards. He thrashed about on his back, his hands on his belly, screaming in pain. The other man ran off with Marie’s bag under his arm. Elly was kneeling over her mother, crying piteously.

He ran to them and knelt to Marie. “Are you okay?”

She nodded in shock. Elly cried and held onto her.

Mike pulled Marie to her feet. “C’mon! You and Elly have to get back to the camper.”

Julien’s screams made them turn.

Marie looked over at him. “What about him? We can’t leave him here like that.”

“Damn it, Marie, just go! The son-of-a-bitch who took your bag will come back for him. Maybe I can get our money back.”

Marie took Elly’s arm and they hurried away.

Mike watched them disappear into the trees. He walked back over to where Julian lay in the moonlight. Mike stood over him. Julien’s eyes were closed and he had stopped moaning, his chest rising and falling slightly.

Mike took the revolver out of his pocket and walked away and up the little rise where Julien’s big friend had gone. He stood still, listening. Only a slight rustle of leaves above reached his ears. Despite what he had told Marie, he didn’t really think the big man would return. At least not for a while. He walked back over to Julien.

Julien’s breathing was shallower. Mike looked up at the moon through the skeletal branches. His mind went back to the sprawl of the camp. They had to go back there now. They had no other choice. And no money, or hardly any.

Mike thought he could smell the camp from here. He wondered if the two motorbike thugs had been at the militia camp, if that had been their bike. There was no way of knowing. They could still be somewhere back in that stinking, desperate collection of humanity.

He looked down at Julian, then up again at the rise. If only the big man would come creeping back, he could maybe pick him off from behind a tree, get their money back, and put an end to this stupid, sad disaster.

He thought of Marie and Elly sitting in the truck on the side of the road. Maybe the big man was headed there! He’d better go.

Marie pulled Elly along. The light was pale and they slipped and tripped on unseen, snow-covered rocks and logs. Elly held back and Marie turned to her, “C’mon, Elly. We have to get back to the truck.”

“Not that way, Mom,” said Elly, pointing, “this way.”

Marie looked and saw the mud-smeared broken mess of the snowy trail they’d left earlier. They changed directions and hurried on, Marie wondering what they would do now that their money was gone. She felt guilty for having insisted they do this. Mike had been right. Was he okay now? The thought was replaced with the image of the relative safety of the camper and the camp. They all had to get out of these woods and back there. Then they would just have to wait. Surely the situation there would be resolved at some point.

They emerged from the woods onto the logging access road and turned to the right. They slowed their pace a little and a gunshot sounded back in the woods, followed quickly by another. Elly whined in fright.

“It’s okay,” said Marie. “Daddy will be back in a few minutes, then we’ll go back to the camp and try and figure things out. Don’t worry.”

They walked another couple minutes and Marie spotted the moonlight reflecting off the windshield of the truck.

Coming out onto the road, Mike saw the truck a quarter mile away. A few minutes later he got in. Without saying anything, he started the engine.

As they drove down the highway Marie said, “what happened? I heard two shots.”

Mike didn’t look at her. “The big guy came back with a gun and took a shot at me. I shot back. I don’t think I hit him.”

As they headed for the encampment, Mike thought about how they were now back to where they’d started out, only worse. No plan and now, almost no money. They would just have to take their chances along with everybody else. They rode without talking for a few minutes as Elly continued to sniffle. Mike thought back to Julien. He felt no compassion, no guilt, only anger and frustration.

“She’s not hurt, right?” Mike said to Marie.

Marie ignored him, holding tight to Elly as they drove.

“Are you all right, Elly?” said Mike.

“Yeah. I’m just scared.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all a little scared, but we’ll be okay now.”

Mike’s left hand burned from where Julien’s blade had stuck him. It wasn’t a deep cut and there wasn’t much blood. Hopefully it wouldn’t get infected. He took stock. They were now out most of their money and were nowhere closer to getting across. And Julien’s people might come looking for them. But maybe not. They’d just have to lay low. What else could they do?

He glanced at Marie’s strained face. She wouldn’t look at him. He imagined she was blaming him for all of this. No matter, he told himself. She would get over it.

“I hope so,” he muttered aloud, not meaning to.

“What?” said Marie.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

The dark and cold pressed against the windows as they drove in silence. It was the end of the line for them. C’mon, he silently told himself. Be positive. Yeah, right.

After a few minutes he turned to Marie again, “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

She glanced at him. She no longer looked angry, only frightened. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

Mike watched the headlight beams probing the black, empty highway ahead. All his imaginings of their lot finally improving had been a fantasy. What in the world was going to happen to them? He stared at the white lines disappearing under the truck, finding no answers. An hour later he drove past their camp spot, now taken by an old van, with two vehicles lined up behind it. He parked behind them and they slept.