Then he’s back at my side, seizing my hand and pulling me along after Gil. “C’mon. We have to go while she’s still passed out.” There’s no time to talk. And no going back. Sabine follows us. I can hear her light tread under the heavier beat of our own. Sean’s running fast. I keep up, panting beside him. We break off the trail and head into the trees. It’s dark, but Gil whips out a flashlight from his backpack, guiding us through the grasping press of foliage. We stop at the perimeter wall. I blink, feeling dazed, my head fuzzy like it’s wrapped in cotton.
I glance over my shoulder into the dark woods behind us, wondering if I’m leaving the place where I truly belong. I am a killer, after all. Maybe Sabine, too, for all I know. She didn’t blink an eye using that rock on Addy.
I’m lifted off my feet as Sean swings me over the wall. Sabine drops down without any help. She’s like a jungle monkey. Sean follows, landing lightly on his feet. A car waits, rumbling in the dark. The headlights flip on and we’re bathed in the sudden flood.
“He’s here!” Gil exclaims, rushing ahead, waving excitedly to the person behind the wheel. No stranger to him, apparently.
The guy is in his forties, plain and unassuming looking. Nervous. His gaze darts everywhere all at once.
“Who’s that?” I pause warily beside Sean, watching as Gil and the driver step close to talk.
Sean faces me, his features cut in harsh lines from the glow of the headlights. “The guy that’s going to get us out of here.”
“Oh,” I murmur as though that explains everything. But I don’t press. I’m still reeling from the last few moments. From what I’m actually doing. From all that I’ve done. All that might happen yet.
He turns me to face him. “Don’t start questioning yourself now. We’re doing the right thing. We have no other choice.”
I nod. I don’t want him to worry about me or that I’m about to break, crumple to bits and pieces in front of him. “I’m not.”
“Hey.” He tilts my chin with one finger, his eyes mesmerizing me. “You trust me, right?”
This time my nod is sincere. “Yes.” I do. I trust him. It’s just me I doubt. Glassy brown eyes keep flashing before my eyes. A reminder of what I am, what I’ve done. The peace that will never be mine. A painful lump rises in my throat.
Gil and the driver get in the front of the car. Sean pulls me into the backseat. Sabine follows. Sandwiched in the middle, I settle alongside Sean’s solid warmth. His arm wraps around me. I take comfort in his embrace. Security, however imaginary. Gil looks back at us with a reassuring smile.
Sean leans closer. His warm lips brush my ear. Goose bumps break out over my arms. “We’re going to be fine.”
I absorb these words and try to believe them, but I’m not sure what “fine” is anymore. Everything feels desperate and hopeless. Everything is “have to.” Every time I close my eyes, I see the face of a dead man and know that I’ll kill when cornered. I guess that makes me no different than any other wild animal.
I lace my fingers with Sean’s, squeezing tightly, looking for something to hang on to, something warm and beautiful and precious. Something that brings meaning in all of this.
Anything to slow my descent.
I wake to sunlight. I can even smell it. Warm and rich as loam on the air. The small room is bathed in its warm rays, making the white walls appear even whiter, a colorlessness that seems to stare back at me, waiting for my next move.
I stretch on the bed with a noisy yawn, luxuriating in sleeping so late, enjoying my body’s sense of languor. Right or wrong, for the first time in months, I feel safe. Logically, I know I shouldn’t lower my guard. We could be captured at any time. My hand brushes the sheet beside me, the indentation from Sean’s body still there. I smile slowly. For now, I feel free. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that now—this moment—is all that matters.
Rising slowly, I dress and brush my teeth in the trailer’s single bathroom across the hall. Clothes hang over the shower rod to dry. Yesterday, Sabine and I washed our things in the sink, figuring that even wrinkled, clean was clean.
Walking out into the main room, I find Gil and Sabine at the small kitchen table, playing cards. Ever since Gil’s contact dropped us here three days ago with instructions on how to cross the border, we’ve played cards a lot to amuse ourselves. With nowhere else to go and no television or books to pass the time, there’s not much else to do as we wait.
Sabine munches on dry cereal. “Hey,” she greets after swallowing her mouthful. She looks different since leaving Mount Haven. With the lines of her face less strained, she’s pretty in a way I had never noticed before.
Gil offers me a distracted wave as he studies his cards intently.
“Hi.” I take an apple off the counter.
I nod to the trailer door. “Sean outside?”
Gil flicks his gaze away for a split second. “Yeah. The usual spot.”
I take a noisy bite from the apple and slip on my shoes sitting beside the door.
Stepping outside, I blink against the glare, holding a hand over my eyes. It’s not too hot yet, at least in the mornings, but the promise is there, in the day to come, in the weeks ahead. I move over the broken ground, skirting patches of mesquite scrub and small cacti. I pick my way to where Sean sits, his back to me.
He’s parked on an outcropping of rock, looking down with binoculars at the valley below. Sunlight shines off his hair, gilding the long strands a brilliant shade of dark gold.
He lowers the binoculars as I take a seat beside him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
I shrug. “What can I say? It feels good to sleep in.”
Smiling, he leans across the space between us and kisses me. Slow and lingering. It’s like this now. Kisses. Touches. All freely given and taken. In just three days, being with him has become as necessary as breathing. It’s like being here, time suspends. We forget Mount Haven and everything that happened there. The outside world is forgotten.
I nod to the valley below. “How’s it going?”
He follows my gaze. “I think I have their patterns figured out.”
I take the binoculars from him and study the river, a thick serpent amid the sloping mountains, the water more brown than blue. “It looks quiet.”
“A patrol just went by. Like every day at this time.”
“What about the construction crews?” My gaze narrows on the orange flags and stakes, indicating where the wall will go to divide Mexico from Texas.
“No sight of them in two days. I think we have some time while they’re surveying and setting the rest of the pins along the border north of here.”
I nod and lower the binoculars. “So when do we cross?”
“Well, according to Gil’s guy, they pick up on Mondays on the other side, but I think it’s safer to leave Sunday around four a.m. Our chances should be good then. We’ll just have to lay low and camp out one night.” He touches my cheek, his fingers a whisper-soft brush on my skin.
A night with him under the stars? I could handle that. I lean into his caress, looking from him to the river below and the wild stretch of land beyond. Where we’re headed. Where our future awaits.
“I’m ready.”