Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

Marie seemed to be in shock the next morning. Elly was unusually quiet and furtive. Mike found a half squeezed-out tube of antibiotic cream to smooth over his cut hand. He sipped his coffee and thought of the night before. Marie put some hot wheat cereal in front of him and he ate. A vehicle pulled up on the shoulder outside. The valve tick of the engine filtered into the camper. A door opened and closed. Mike went out, glad for the distraction.

Mike watched as a middle-aged man attempted to back up a pop-up camper into a space with a little Chevy SUV. The camper was blocked by a frozen, hip-high berm of snow the driver could not see.

Mike walked over to the driver. “My name’s Mike.”

“Elvin,” said the man with a mild Southern drawl. He indicated the woman beside him. “This here’s Katy, and my boys, Sherman and Bobby in the back.”

“You’re not clear of that berm back there,” said Mike. “Let me go on back and guide you in?”

“Thank you, sir,” said Elvin.

Marie and Ellie came out of the camper to see what was happening.

Mike guided Elvin into his spot and a moment later, Elvin and his family got out of the car. Marie and Katy met and seemed to take an immediate liking to each other.

Elly watched with delight as Sherman and Bobby, both about ten years old, immediately began throwing snowballs at each other.

“How’d you come in?” Mike asked Elvin.

“We were west of here, camped in the woods. It was too darn quiet for the wife, though. We heard about this place… and here we are.”

“I see,” said Mike. “Were you camped in a State Park?”

“No, sir. Just open forest, probably owned by a logging operation. I’ll tell you what, there’s a place I found just outside of Johnsonville where a man sells all manner of new and used hardware and supplies out of his barn. I wanted to on go back there and take a look. You want to go with me?”

“Sure,” said Mike.

Elvin detached his SUV while Mike spoke with Marie. Then he and Elvin drove off to see if they could find anything useful. As they passed through the crowded section of the encampment near the border station building, Elvin said, “It smells to high heaven around here.”

Mike looked at him. “Yeah, there’s no proper sewage disposal. When we arrived there were maybe a couple hundred people here. Now there’s a couple thousand. They put in some out-houses, but not enough. People, some of them, have taken to crapping out in the trees. I’m afraid people might start getting sick.”

“Well, we’re not going to be here long enough for that.”

“Yeah? Where you headed?”

“I have a few possibilities,” said Elvin cryptically. “But I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

Mike said nothing. Elvin’s comment got him thinking again about his own situation. While he hadn’t completely given up hope, realistically, he didn’t know what the hell they were going to do.

When they arrived at the barn store, they separated. Mike strolled through the aisles looking at ropes and canvas, old rusting tools, beat-up generators and propane stoves, all stacked high on tables. There were bins of wire, electrical boxes and outlets and cords, stacks of cut firewood. He had hoped to find a small pot-bellied stove to put inside the camper. Temperatures were dropping and there was a hint of more snow in the air. And worse, they were almost out of propane. Despite asking all over the encampment, there was none to be had. Mike thought that he might be able somehow to pass some of the truck’s exhaust through the camper and warm them that way. But the trick was doing it with no leaks. A carbon monoxide leak could kill them.

Mike continued to wander through the various tables for another twenty minutes or so. He bought an old pair of tin shears he thought might come in handy later. He asked the proprietor about small wood stoves and was told that they rarely got them in, and if they did, they went quick.

Mike found Elvin in front of the barn smoking a cigarette.

“You find anything?” said Mike.

Elvin indicated a plastic bag on the ground. “Just a few nicked and dented camp plates and cups.”

They got back into Elvin’s SUV and started driving back.

After a few minutes Mike said, “Where were you and your family when all this business started?”

“We had a little spread outside Atlanta. But the city went crazy and all kinds of human debris started showing up in the county.”

“Yeah. Sounds a lot like our situation as well.”

Elvin shook his head angrily. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when a legally-elected president of these United States would be dragged out of the damn White House.”

Mike couldn’t stop himself and spat out, “Well, if he hadn’t turned into some kind of fucking Nazi dictator, that never would have happened!”

“What the fuck?” said Elvin, turning to glare at Mike.

Mike said nothing, shocked to discover that they’d been on opposite sides. He should have kept his mouth shut. Now what? He looked out the window. Like many at the time—on both sides—he had thought that historic walkout in the glare of the lights with the cameras running, was unnecessary and demeaning, despite his wanting the man gone. Then both sides had gone crazy and the fighting had started almost immediately. And now there was no end in sight.

“Look,” said Mike in a composed and conciliatory tone, “I don’t want to get into a long argument about all of that. It happened and I just wish that cooler heads had prevailed, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” said Elvin, not turning his head to look at Mike.

They were silent for a while, then Mike said, “Damn! Where are the adults that will show up on the beach to save us from ourselves?”

“What?” said Elvin, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s from a famous book, Lord of the Flies ?”

“Never heard of it.”

They fell silent again as they looked out at the cold whiteness of the forest.

“I’m gonna have to be gone tomorrow for most of the day,” said Elvin finally. “Could you keep an eye on my wife and kids, and watch no one tries to take our stuff?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” said Mike. Despite the now-calm, comradely tone of Elvin’s voice, Mike sensed falseness in it. Neither of them could completely distance themselves from their anger and frustration. Neither of them could trust the other. He decided to test it further. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he said, “where are you going?”

“Ah, I have some people to meet. Gotta see if I can get something set up for us east of here.”

Again, the cryptic response. Mike looked out the window. It was partly his fault. If only he hadn’t gotten into politics. “Well,” he said, “if you hear about any possibility of getting across, let me know, will you?”

Elvin’s response was grudging. “Sure.”

They came to the ugly sprawl of the border encampment. Hundreds of tar paper and blue tarp shanties had moved further out into the woods on both sides of the highway. There was trash and litter everywhere. The authorities had put out 55-gallon drums for trash, but they had quickly filled up and overflowed; the cold winds had done the rest. The piney scent of wood smoke mingled with the unmistakable odor of feces. Both men found the scene depressing and said nothing as they drove through. Five minutes later they pulled off the road and backed up to Elvin’s rig.

That night both families cooked a communal dinner over a big cheery fire. Mike and Elvin smoked and talked softly, carefully staying away from the charged arena of politics. Marie and Katy got on well, sharing stories about the beginning of the troubles and their flight, while Elly thrilled in helping and watching over the two little boys.