“I don’t sound Canadian,” Violet whispered, leaning close enough to brush her arm against Austin’s. She didn’t flinch. Comfortable with his touch, or immune to it? Analyze later.
“Okay.” He slathered cream cheese on his bagel.
“I’m serious. Haven’t you ever talked to a Canadian?”
“Sure, but maybe these people haven’t. Anyway, our vowels are similar.”
“No, they’re not. Good grief, we don’t have accents in the first place.”
“Pretty sure we do.”
Already three people had asked where they were from, and Violet and Austin hadn’t even joined Lee at the table yet. One older guy insisted they were North Dakotan and talked “just like what’s-her-name in that one movie.”
“What kind of cream cheese is that? I can smell it.” Violet wrinkled her nose.
“Chive and onion.”
“Oh my gosh. In the morning?”
“Says the eater of fruit wax.”
He headed with his tray toward Lee’s table—in the corner, of course. He took his time, stepping around strangers who didn’t meet his eyes and exchanging small talk with those who did, though when destinations came up, he didn’t cop to Texas (and had warned Violet not to, either). It was refreshing, the reminder that people existed other than him and Violet and Brenner and Lee, that some people traveled and mingled and laughed, free of desperation. A smile pulled Austin’s lips as he sat down.
Across from him, Lee nibbled her strawberries and melon, ignoring her oatmeal. “Good morning.”
“Hey,” he said. “How’s the gym? I want to go run, at least.”
Lee lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Violet said you already worked out this morning,” and now her eyebrow arched at Violet.
“What?” Violet said. “You did, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Well, then.” Violet dug into her cold cereal—something with marshmallows—as if it were edible.
“Please let me know if you spot Tatum before I do,” Lee said. “As for the gym, there’s a treadmill along with a few weight machines.”
Perfect. Austin started on his eggs. A little runny, but after the last few meals of beef jerky, he could hardly complain. Halfway through breakfast, a young dark-haired couple approached with laden trays. The girl beamed at them through red-framed glasses. The guy, about her height and hefty, hung back.
“May we?” the girl said.
“Sure.” Violet moved her chair closer to Austin’s as the strangers settled in.
The five of them didn’t exchange names. The small talk steered toward impersonal topics. Finally the couple enthused over the latest movie to shatter the box office—a character-driven epic about a matriarchal alien society. The more they described it, the surer Austin became that he’d never be able to sit through it.
He couldn’t place their accents. Probably wouldn’t have tried if his own hadn’t been pointed out to him three times in as many minutes. East Coast, somewhere. They might be hiding contraband in a floor safe, envisioning the border between them and freedom while they sat here eating bagels and oatmeal and discussing movie trends.
Austin cleaned his plate before Tatum flitted into the dining room, wearing her standard black pants and white button-down.
“Hey,” he said in lieu of Lee’s name, and nodded over her shoulder to where Tatum refilled the two coffee machines. Lee glanced back as Tatum took in the room. She must have signaled with her expression somehow, because Tatum beelined for them as soon as she finished setting up the coffee.
“Hope you all slept well.” The smile was for their whole table, but the lingering look was for Lee.
“You have a sign prohibiting the transporting of food to the rooms,” Lee said.
“Yeah, if we didn’t, people would—oh. That’s a problem for you, I guess.”
“I don’t see anything here but paper plates. I was hoping you’d provide something sturdier.”
“Can do. Uno momento.” She held up a finger and then disappeared the way she’d come.
Their dining companions eyed Lee with unmasked curiosity. She ate her oatmeal without bothering to meet their eyes.
When no one offered an explanation, the couple glanced at each other. Their confusion hadn’t dissipated a few minutes later, when Lee left the table. Austin followed her.
“I’m going back to the rooms,” Lee said. “Would you bring up whatever Tatum gives you?”
“Sure.” He returned to their table and Violet.
The hostess kept them waiting only minutes. She offered Austin a glass dish with a center divider, one side half-filled with scrambled eggs, the other with oatmeal, its dollop of butter and brown sugar melting. To Violet, she handed a small bowl of the fruit mix—berries, melon, grapes.
“Will this be enough?” she said.
Enough times ten, given Brenner’s eating habits. Violet’s smile didn’t reveal that, though. “Perfect. Thanks so much.”
“I’ll be up in a bit,” Tatum said. “There’s things to talk over.”
Austin nodded. So far, Tatum didn’t know they were without a vehicle.
They found Brenner awake and claiming hunger. He fed himself with a slow but steady hand and didn’t leave a single bite. As Lee took the empty dishes from him and set those on the table, a smile eased the lines of weariness from her face.
Brenner repositioned the pillow at his back and leaned forward. “Have you seen any Constabulary in the hotel?”
“Not so far,” Violet said, and Lee echoed, “No.” Austin shook his head.
“How far are we from the border?”
Lee sat beside him on the bed. “We’re just into Oklahoma. I’d estimate another four hours, no more than five.”
Brenner nodded, and quiet settled over them as he absorbed, calculated … sighed. “I don’t know how we’ll get there.”
“Tatum will help,” Violet said.
Brenner studied her a long moment, and Violet didn’t avoid his eyes. Her smile all but held words. We’ll be okay, Marcus. How had she grown so comfortable with him? She couldn’t know him well, not given the timing of her disappearance and his arrest. Brenner’s gaze traveled to Lee and flickered.
“It’s true, we don’t know her,” Lee said as if answering something he’d said. “We’re also without options, and Violet did observe her assisting other fugitives.”
Brenner nodded. “Okay. What’s going on at the border?”
“What do you mean?” Austin said.
“Well. In June …” His mouth crimped, and the quiet teetered on the edge of something. He cleared his throat. “Texas had been talking about leaving, but nothing had happened.”
Right. The man had missed four months of news coverage. Austin had to stop forgetting that.
“They seceded before July, I don’t remember what day it was.” Violet sat on Austin’s bed and leaned back on her hands. Her hair brushed the bedspread behind her. “Last week, the government was all about respecting their borders and stuff. This week, it’s like no one ever said that, and they’re still deciding whether they can go into Texas and capture fugitives. There’s a federal border patrol now to keep us here.”
His brow furrowed. “They don’t want us. Why keep us?”
“You’re terrorists.” Lee bit the words, though not at him. “A clear and present danger to peaceful citizens if you’re allowed to amass on our doorstep. Who’s to say you won’t acquire weaponry and try to claim America for God?”
Brenner stared at her and hadn’t blinked yet when someone rapped on the door.
“It’s Tatum,” came her soft drawl.
Violet hopped off the bed and hurried to the door. No one spoke until Tatum had slipped inside and the door was shut again.
“How’s everyone? Get enough to eat?” Tatum’s eyes darted to Brenner.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“It’s what I do, sir.” Her smile appeared and faded in a moment, and her hands swept her curls into a ponytail and held for a moment. “Now, here’s what’s up. You need to be out of here within the next three hours.”
The stutter of Austin’s heartbeat must have reflected on his face as well as everyone else’s. Tatum held up her hands, palms open.
“We’ve got a system here, an oiled machine, so don’t worry. When the border patrol got called up, a young man of ours—decorated cop, shot in the line of duty and God spared him—he volunteered to serve. Was accepted without question, if nothing else to fill a quota, given his injuries keep him from active duty on the force. This man is our weak link in their chain.”
Brenner shook his head. “What happens in three hours?”
“Eight, actually. He gets off work. They do ten-hour shifts. He won’t work another one for two days.”
Eight hours. Four or five to drive there, so yeah, they had to be on the road in three at the most. A clock started ticking in Austin’s skull. They should leave now.
If they could.
Tatum gathered up the breakfast dishes with a smile that said why are you all frowning at me? “I’m sure it won’t take you more than three hours to pack up.”
“We don’t have a car,” Violet said.
“You … what?”
Violet shook her head.
Tatum’s eyes darted to each of them, seeking contradiction.
Austin ground his knuckles against his thigh. Don’t be angry. But she’d just waved their greatest vulnerability like a bullfighter’s cape, without a discussion first, without … Chill. It wasn’t as if they could avoid telling Tatum.
“We didn’t have a choice.” He flexed his hand. “It’s complicated. What matters is, we had to ditch our vehicle.”
“Where?” Tatum set the dishes back down.
Violet’s face had flushed the moment after she spoke. Her right thumb rubbed a frantic rhythm along a bone of her left wrist.
“Not important,” Brenner said. Oh, so he was taking the lead? Fine.
Tatum’s eyes narrowed, and she stared down at the dishes, tapping her finger on the edge of the fruit bowl. “Hm. I think I can get you … yeah, I can get someone to drive you within an hour or so, but … shoot. He has a pickup truck. Not room for five people including himself.”
If another vehicle could be recruited, Tatum would know. They had to take this truck. In the pause, everyone circled around to the same conclusion. Austin watched it happening on their faces, one by one, Violet’s last as she lifted her head to stare bug-eyed.
“Someone could hide in the bed,” she said. “Like we did before.”
Tatum’s eyebrows arched. “Not a chance. Even if this truck had a cap—which it doesn’t—Danny would have to search it, or he’d look suspicious.”
“So we have to split up?” Violet’s voice trembled.
“I don’t see another way.”
Brenner and Lee were already nodding. Brenner’s gaze targeted Austin, grimness tugging his mouth. “You and Violet. We’ll follow in two days.”
“But—but, Marcus.” Violet hugged herself and hunched forward. “You’re sick. You should go first.”
“Agreed.” Lee’s voice held an edge.
“No,” Brenner said.
If the man wanted to stay behind, Austin wasn’t going to argue with him. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’ll take Violet now.”
“Good.”
“You are the primary target.” Lee pinned her glare on Brenner. “And if hiding becomes necessary, you won’t be able to move quickly.”
“And there’s con-cops everywhere,” Violet said. She shot a glance at Austin, frowned when he said nothing. “Come on. You guys know we’re right. It should be Marcus.”
“No,” he said. He shifted his attention to Tatum, who answered before he could voice the question.
“One cryptic phone call, and he’ll be here in forty-five minutes.”
Brenner nodded. “Thanks.”
Packing would eat about one tenth of that time. Then they’d wait. And then they’d set out, Austin and Violet, and he’d get her over the border, and then … Who knows? His entire life had become one endless, shadowed maze to be navigated without a map, without a flashlight, without even the assurance that Violet would be feeling her way forward alongside him.
Brenner looked at him again, part challenge, part trust. Austin nodded, and Brenner nodded back. First things first.