31

A CLOSE CALL

Everything went as planned. GRIM did not come by. The children seized six more hours of sleep and a tour of the farm. Although the government-sanctioned crop and its harvest seemed efficient, it lacked the beauty of the bootlegged family garden. Here, the children captured a glimpse of the Eden for which they searched. Ten times the size of Gruff’s balcony, the garden overflowed with all kinds of vegetables and several varieties of berries, some of which—to the children’s delight—were currently ripe.

“Do you have any fruit trees?” Dante asked.

“No, son, I wish we did,” Jesse answered. “It’s not allowed.”

Clare and Dante wished they could stay longer but understood the reasons for leaving. They also felt an urgency to reach the border and find a place with food freedom. Maryanne packed food for them—mostly the standard processed food, “it does last longer,” she had said—but some of the good stuff as well.

“Just make sure no one sees you eating it,” she warned.

“Mom,” Jesse complained, “they’re staying out of sight completely, you don’t need to tell them not to be seen eating!”

Around 8:30 p.m. the kids piled into the back of Jesse’s truck. It would be a ninety-minute trip and dark by the time they crossed the city. “Try to sleep,” he ordered as they climbed in.

The ride was smooth once they hit the main road. The children, however, weren’t used to passively riding such long distances. Like their bus ride away from their former lives, this ride felt unending. Despite their doubts about being able to sleep, eventually they nodded off. When they awoke, it was dark and they were stopped. Jesse was gently shaking Clare.

“Clare, wake up. You, too,” he nudged Dante. It took a few moments for Clare to realize where she was—a feeling she’d experienced all too often lately.

Jesse lifted Dante up and out of the truck into the infinite darkness. Clare pushed the bikes and their packs close to the tailgate and climbed out. Jesse unloaded their things. He reminded them how to proceed.

“If you ride your bikes the remainder of the way, it will take three, maybe four nights. It’s best to stay away from the larger cities where people might be on the lookout for you. Here’s an updated map,” he said, handing it to Clare. “It shows how to skirt the urban areas, and the best places to cross the border.” Her eyes flicked up at his face. “Sorry,” he said, reading her thoughts, “we can’t plot the safe places. It’s too risky. But you know the signs. You found us.” He smiled genuinely at the children.

Clare nodded. She thought about Ana’s list, and Gruff. It was enough.

“Well,” he said, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

Dante charged him and hugged him tightly.

Jesse patted his back. “You’ll be okay, little guy,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

Clare thanked Jesse and hugged him. They watched as he climbed into the truck, did a U-turn, and drove back toward the farm that had been a safe harbor. Once again, Clare and Dante felt tiny and alone under the vast night sky.

Wordlessly, the children mounted their bikes and rode into the darkness. They were used to it, now, riding for a couple of hours without stopping or talking.

Around midnight they stopped, traffic all but nonexistent. It was a darker night than usual, with a late summer’s cloud cover. They tucked themselves into a dry culvert. Clare took out the lunches Maryanne had packed: a “sandwich,” she had called it, some Carbo Crispies, fresh carrots, and Energy Juice. It was a nice combination of modern food and fresh food.

After thirty minutes they were ready to ride. Dante, who had once readily whined about the grueling schedule, no longer complained; he had resigned himself to the necessity of the task, and had gained the spiritual and physical strength to keep going.

As the children pedaled on, they noticed more and more houses, then sprawling suburbs. Clare, in the lead, showed no signs of changing course.

“Clare,” Dante called from behind, “shouldn’t we go around?”

“It’s faster this way,” she said. “It’s the middle of the night.”

He quietly followed. It wasn’t long until other buildings appeared. And with them, large lights.

“Clare?”

“Keep riding,” she insisted. It was 2:30 a.m. She had checked her watch and felt secure.

Soon, they were inside city limits. It wasn’t a major city, one with roads that stretched forever blending town after town together, but it wasn’t a one-stop town either. Traffic lights glowed every couple of blocks, though few cars were out this time of night. The children rode on, looking both ways at intersections, but never stopping and barely slowing.

Movement from behind, flashing lights, shook the children from their trancelike state. A night patrol officer had seen them and was creeping along behind. He rolled his window down and called to them.

“Quick,” said Clare, “follow me and don’t look back!”

She turned sharply and cut through a parking lot, Dante close behind. They pedaled with all their might. The lights followed. Her eyes searched for any dark place, some place too small for a car to follow. A rundown trailer court to their left caught her eye.

“Over there!” She pointed the way.

They zoomed into the drive and through the court; they took a sharp right onto what had once been a grassy play area but was now overgrown. They kept riding.

A car door slammed behind them but they did not look back. They sped into an open shamble of a carport crammed full of someone’s treasure-junk, including half a dozen well-used bicycles. Adding theirs to the collection, they stripped off their saddles, and ducked back out the other side, dropping to the ground. This place was not well-lit, thank God. They crawled on their bellies to some brambles. The footsteps of the officer drew nearer.

“Children?”

It hurt, but they inched under the brambles, thorns scratching their heads and pulling at their hair.

He shined his light around the carport.

“Hello? Are you all right?”

He kept talking, as if he knew they could hear him. His voice grew lower, gentle and tender, but they couldn’t make out his words. Then, knocking on a door. Suddenly, lights in the trailer flew on. A woman’s scornful voice shattered the relative quiet.

“I don’t need no cops ‘round here!” she said. “Waking us up in the middle of the night. No, I haven’t seen no children. And what if I did? Is that what it’s got to now—arresting children in the middle of the night?!”

Clare and Dante felt a little sorry for the policeman. Clare worried that their bicycles might be noticed. Finally, the woman stopped yelling, and a door slammed. The police officer flashed his light around a little longer, but then the footsteps grew distant; the car door shut; and the nearly imperceptible sound of an electric car driving away was all they heard.

They stayed flat on their faces under the brambles for what seemed like hours. Eventually, they decided the angry woman must be asleep, and they slipped back to retrieve their bikes.

They were in a bind as to what to do next. The last thing they needed was to be spotted by the cop again, but on the other hand, would daylight in town be much better? Walking their bikes slowly through the dark trailer park, just enough light allowed them to see a burned-out shell of an abandoned mobile home. They went inside and lay their bikes down. Daylight it would be.

Waiting out the remainder of the night wasn’t easy. The children weren’t at all tired. They really wanted to play cards, but were afraid of attracting attention with their lights. So they lay still in the darkness of the vacant shelter, talking quietly at times, and remaining silent at others.

It was a good time to hatch a plan about how to get out of town.

“I think I can get us back to the main road from here,” Clare said. “We didn’t really make that many turns.”

“Will we go the right direction?”

“I th-think so,” answered Clare. She was thinking of how intently they had been riding, with no thought to landmarks to the right or to the left. “Anyway, eventually we’ll see some road signs.”

“Eventually,” Dante murmured.

“It’ll be light,” Clare said. “I’m sure it won’t be that hard to get going in the right direction. And then we’ll want to get out of town as quickly as we can. It would help to see a better map.”

“What about the map Jesse gave us?”

“Doesn’t show a close-up of each city.”

“Still,” Dante persisted. “Maybe we should look at it now.”

“Okay. But we need to keep the light hidden.”

The children crawled as far from the windows as possible and covered themselves with the light fabric Maryanne had insisted they bring along in case of a summer rainstorm. Clare unfolded the map and held the light tightly to it.

“I wish we had one of those techno maps,” Dante said.

“Or the mini-Monitors,” Clare added. “This is so old-fashioned.”

As she gazed down at the map, she saw the road that drifted lazily around the populous area. She needed to figure out how to get to it. Tracing their route with her finger, Clare tried to imagine where they were. She had a pretty good feeling for directions and decided it wouldn’t be that hard to get out of town. If only she had an idea of the distance required and how on earth to traverse it in daylight without being seen. She spoke all this aloud to her brother.

“I have an idea,” said Dante.