The Escape: Chapter Eight: The Shot

Alaina handed JJ to me. The boy made a small sound of protest, but settled and pressed his face against my shoulder. We were closing in on the border gate, which was a relief and induced some anxiety. The trees and underbrush thickened around us. Alaina slapped insects on her arms, muttering about bites.

“We’re almost there,” I said.

“How far do you think they would follow us past the gate?”

Fair question. Border Patrol trained to continue pursuing until success. Yet, there had not been an actual escape attempt in living memory. No member of the militia ever attempted to track something more than a few miles beyond the gates. If we could make it that far out, we had a better chance.

“Not far. I think they’d lose their nerve if they felt they were getting too close to aliens. They would just report us killed.”

“Good.”

The earthy smell of foliage and humidity turned my stomach. The world came alive around us as we walked, with creatures scurrying and rustling at our feet.

We slowed to make sure the pace wouldn’t wake JJ. Despite his snores, the boy was a light sleeper. I’d woken him more than once just by peeking in on him as he slept. He would sit up and start a whole conversation.

Something larger than a squirrel moved toward us. I stopped Alaina, and we ducked behind some trees. The sound intensified. A young border patrolman came into view twenty yards ahead of us, walking parallel to the border. He held his rifle on his shoulder and moved without urgency. JJ stretched. I froze, worried he might wake and make a noise. I rubbed his back and thought a prayer.