by Hamel, B. B.
“What’s going on?” Reid asked me.
“Nothing. Let’s get out of here,” I said to him.
Josh stopped following me and took a step back. “It’s cool, Climber.”
Reid stood there staring at Josh for a second. “Come on, Reid,” I said again, tugging his arm.
He looked at me, at the empty cup in my hand, and then back at Josh. He clearly put it all together.
“You dumb fuck,” he mumbled as he walked over toward Josh.
“Hey, come on, Climber. It’s cool,” he said, backing off farther, his hands in the air.
Faster than I could follow, Reid stepped in and slugged Josh across the face. Josh had no chance. He took Reid’s strong fist right in his jaw and fell down to the ground, grabbing his face in pain.
“Go near her again and I’ll kill you,” Reid said, standing over him menacingly.
“Reid! Come on!” I said frantically.
People were staring at us. I was terrified that a bigger fight was about to break out. I wanted to run away, but suddenly someone laughed.
“Fuck him up, Climber!” the person said, and the crowd laughed.
Reid grinned. “Show’s over,” he said, putting his arm around me and steering me over toward the cars. Josh was rubbing his face but wasn’t trying to get up. He was clearly afraid of Reid, and it was obvious that the crowd was not on his side.
I couldn’t believe it. Not only had Reid appeared exactly when I’d needed him, but he had no problem knocking Josh down like he was nothing. Part of me was pissed that he would hurt someone like that, but part of me was happy it had happened. That asshole Josh was being too aggressive and scary and deserved to be knocked down a peg or two.
“You okay?” Reid asked me.
“I’m fine. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I did. That guy has a reputation.”
I frowned. “Really?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the first girl that threw her drink in his face.”
I sighed and let Reid take me back toward the truck. The sounds of the party receded a bit as we moved to the perimeter. I felt safe there with Reid’s strong arm wrapped around my shoulders, and although I could handle myself, I was thankful that he had shown up.
“Let’s head out,” he said.
“Okay, fine.”
We climbed into the truck and he sat there for a second, the engine off.
“I told you to be careful.”
“You don’t control what I do, Reid.”
“I know that. But these people can be pretty fucked up sometimes.”
“You keep saying that. Why are they your friends?”
He leaned toward me. “It’s complicated. I just want you to be safe.” His lips were parted slightly. His gorgeous, full lips. I felt myself moving closer to him.
“Lindsey keeps saying something. About you and that guy Thom.”
“Does she? What’s she been saying?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re involved with him somehow. Who is he?”
“Just a guy I’ve been working with.”
I felt so frustrated, but his voice was deep and smooth and his smell was threatening to overwhelm me.
“Working on what?”
“Just a job. What do you care?”
“I don’t care. I mean, I don’t know.” I felt myself babbling, unable to tell him the truth. I cared because I cared about him way more than I wanted to admit.
“Listen to me next time, Becca. And forget what Lindsey’s been saying.” His face was inches from mine.
“Thanks. For that.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
He was so close. He was so intoxicating.
The way he was looking at me sent shivers down my spine. I could feel myself growing wet already.
And then my phone began to buzz.
He frowned and looked at my bag.
“Better get that,” he said.
“That’s okay.”
He laughed and sat up straight, starting the engine. I frowned, getting ahold of myself, and pulled my phone from my bag. It was Lindsey.
“Hey,” I said, answering.
“Becca! Oh my god! I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Where did you go?”
“I was just in the RV hanging out with some guys.”
“You left me alone.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought you came with us.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home with Reid.”
“Oh. Okay. Look, I had fun. I’m really sorry about what happened.”
I sighed. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. Let me buy you lunch or something to make up for it?”
“Sure. Text me later.”
“’Kay.” She hung up.
I put the phone back in my bag as Reid pulled back out onto the main road.
“That girl is bad news,” he grunted at me.
I sighed, not wanting to start fighting with him again. I kept thinking about how close I had been to kissing him just a minute earlier.
“Probably,” I muttered.
We drove back home in silence, the near kiss lingering in the air. He had to have felt it, had to have known that it was what I wanted. He had a way about him, like he could read my body.
The problem was, I wanted him to do more than just read it.
But that was too dangerous. I remembered how surprised Lindsey was when she heard how Reid liked to talk to me.
We couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.
The car ride was quiet, but my head was buzzing, full of doubt, worry, and overwhelming desire.
Chapter Eight: Reid
She was on my mind as I set out early the next morning.
It was more and more obvious that she had been away for too damn long. Even though I warned her about that party, she insisted on going anyway. That wasn’t a big deal, but she ended up drinking a little too much and got stranded with that creep.
I couldn’t blame her for what happened next, though. Josh came off as such a nice guy sometimes, and girls kept falling for his bullshit. It didn’t take long for them to realize what a piece of shit he was, though.
It felt good breaking his jaw. I hated that Becca had to be the one in harm’s way, but I had to admit that Josh was in desperate need of a beating. All I was waiting for was an excuse.
For a second there, I was afraid I wasn’t going to stop. I was afraid I was going to actually kill the asshole. But then someone called out my name and the tension dispersed. Seeing the look on Becca’s face, her fear, almost drove me insane with anger.
I made my way through the underbrush and climbed over the fence surrounding our property, heading north. My plan was to hike due north, following a carefully laid-out path I had made over the years, until I got to the border. From there, I’d hike east a few miles and cross over the river bordering Canada wherever it seemed safest.
Becca coming home threw a wrench in everything, I realized. I had gotten so used to lying to Jack and my mom that it wasn’t difficult anymore. Throwing out lies was just a part of my daily routine ever since I got into the smuggling business. But Becca was already beginning to ask questions.
It was only a matter of time. Someone in town was going to say something to her, probably that pill head Lindsey, and I was going to have to make a choice. I would either have to lie to her or I’d have to tell her the truth.
I didn’t want to lie to her. Despite the things I had done over the years, I hadn’t ever lied to her. I hadn’t ever been in a position where I’d needed to, but that fact was important to me.
I had lied to everyone else in my life. I wanted things to be different with Becca.
The brush was dense under foot as I walked, the sun beginning to slowly rise, burning away the humidity that had formed overnight. I’d hit the border by one in the afternoon, make the exchange by two, and hopefully
be halfway back home by the time it got dark.
That was the plan, at least. As I found out over and over again, plans don’t always work out. Everyone starts out with great training and planning, but as soon as you get kicked in the face for the first time, suddenly it’s a mad dash for survival. It’s easy to forget everything you worked on when there’s blood on your clothes.
The only place I never felt like I was scrambling was when I climbed up a cliff face. I didn’t know why, but there was something about a cliff that made sense to me. I could see the handholds and the footholds, I could see the route I’d need to travel to make it up the fastest. It just solidified in my mind the first time I looked over a wall, almost like magic.
Unfortunately, that skill didn’t help me too much when it came to smuggling drugs out of Canada.
As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I didn’t know Becca well enough to guess how she would react if she found out what I had been doing for money. Fear? Disgust? Disappointment? I had no way of knowing, and that was what worried me.
I hated having things outside of my control. I wasn’t a total control freak, but I liked to be able to influence events.
That was why, when my mom got diagnosed with cancer, I immediately found a way to help her. I couldn’t sit back and watch her get sicker and sicker. It wasn’t in my blood to be passive.
Climbing wasn’t going to make enough money. I had to do something more extreme.
I wasn’t sure if others could see why I made the choices that I did, but everything was supposed to help my family.
I just hoped that Becca could see it that way.
I checked the sun and guessed that it was about noon. I peeled off my light parka, folded it tightly, and slipped it into a pocket of my backpack.
I was getting close. Crossing was by far the most dangerous part of the whole thing, especially crossing back over into Washington from Canada with a pack full of drugs. If I got caught without the drugs, it would be bad enough. But with them? I’d go to jail, no questions asked.
I strapped my pack and hiked on. There was no point in worrying too much. The woods were lovely, dark and deep, and I had promises to keep. And a few more miles before I could meet up with my Canadian gangster and make the drop.
After another half hour of walking, I heard the sound of running water up ahead. I sighed, knowing that the water was the border, and that I had made really good time. I hated to get there early, but that was better than late.
The one and only time I showed up late had been bad. They threatened to dock my pay for every minute I was behind schedule. Apparently, even gangsters don’t like waiting around with a bunch of illegal drugs in their car.
I stopped by the river and crouched down next to it. It was lower than usual and moving more slowly, which was good. I could probably just walk right across it instead of hoping for a fallen tree or a makeshift bridge like I usually did.
As I began my trek east, I started to notice the signs. They were posted by both governments on both sides and were mostly meant to scare off lost hikers. They promised things like unreasonably high fines and hundreds of years in jail, plus physical dismemberment and torture, if you didn’t back off immediately.
I reached up and grabbed the closest sign. I yanked twice and managed to tear it off the tree it had been nailed to. I grinned down at it as I wound up and threw it into the river. The sign spun in quick circles, rotating along its central axis, flying high over the water, glinting bright sunlight off its reflective face.
It sank with a satisfying plop.
As I looked up, I suddenly froze. There was movement on the Canadian side. Without thinking, I melted back into the woods, farther away from the water. I hid behind a tree, unmoving, and listened.
My heart hammered in my chest as I stayed completely still. I didn’t move for what felt like an hour, but really was probably no more than thirty seconds.
I heard the unmistakable sounds of human voices and people moving through the brush. They clearly weren’t trying to be quiet, and as they got closer I could begin to make out what they were saying.
“—told you, I heard something,” one man said.
“No way. It was just a fish.”
“Fish don’t make sounds like that.”
As I watched, hidden behind a tree and some bushes, two guys appeared next to the water. I could hear the blood rushing through my skull as I stared at them.
Slowly, I realized what was happening. They weren’t dressed like border guards or Mounties. They weren’t carrying rifles.
“See, told you,” the taller guy said.
“Maybe it was farther down?” the other one said.
The two men were dressed in brown clothes, wide-brimmed hats, and were carrying fishing rods. I sighed and relaxed slightly. They were just some local Canadian guys out fishing for the day, though why they wanted to fish at the actual border was a mystery to me.
“You’re crazy. Let’s just cast here, see if we can’t get a bite.”
“It’s lunch for those suckers,” the other guy said. “They’re busy having a snack.”
“Well, we can feed them more.”
They laughed together and began to set up their little spot. I watched for another second as they unfolded chairs and began to bait their rods.
I didn’t wait around to see if they would catch anything. I moved on as quietly as possible, heading deeper into the woods before resuming my trek along the riverbank, well away from the fishermen.
It took me a few minutes before I caught my breath. It was the first time I had ever seen people near the border, and it was a harsh reminder that I wasn’t absolutely alone out in the woods. I wasn’t actually invincible.
I felt a little shaken up as I moved east, putting more distance between me and the fishermen. Throwing the sign had been stupid, a stupid and immature mistake. What if they had been border patrol? They would definitely have followed up, and I doubted I would have been able to hide from trained professionals.
I was lucky. I hated to admit it, but I was incredibly lucky, and had been for a long time. Falling and losing a single shipment was nothing compared to the sort of shit I could get into out there. Every time I made it back alive and with the shipment intact, I was beating the odds.
And suddenly I was making runs way more often.
I checked the sun and decided that I had gotten far enough away from those guys. The actual meeting spot was another mile or two back toward them, but I would be deeper into the woods on the Canadian side by that point. They’d never know I was there.
Resigned, I hid in some brush and waited. The spot I had chosen was relatively shallow and slow moving, so I knew I could just walk across.
There was no sign of life aside from the animals. Nothing moved on the other side.
After a few minutes, I slowly began to slog out into the open river.
The water was cold and refreshing against my legs as I walked. It went up to the middle of my thighs, just under my pack, at the deepest part of the river. I felt exposed, incredibly exposed, and anyone within a mile of me could easily spot me there. I moved as fast as I could without being too loud.
And when I made it to the other side without incident, I quickly collapsed behind some bushes, willing my heart to calm down.
What would Becca think if they suddenly got a call from the border patrol? I’d hate to let down my mom, but on some level she had to already know. Truthfully, I was most afraid of disappointing Becca, perfect fucking Becca.
After a minute, my heart rate came down and I started my hike back toward the meeting place. I checked my GPS unit, looked at my compass, and knew I was going to make it just in time. The fishermen had put me back longer than I’d realized.
Canada, oh Canada
, I thought.
Not long later, I emerged into an empty campsite.
I didn’t know how the local mobsters knew about it, but from what I could tell it had once been a popular spot. But
over the years, because of economic factors I couldn’t begin to understand, people moved away and stopped going to it altogether.
Which made it a perfect site for us to meet.
I dropped my pack down on a bench and looked around. The guy hadn’t showed up yet, which wasn’t too surprising. They didn’t like to linger as much as possible. I couldn’t blame them.
I stripped off my shoes and socks and laid them out next to me in the sun to dry. I looked around at nature slowly reclaiming the campsite and wondered if the whole world would look like that one day, half man-made and half natural. The weeds would grow beyond just weeds, into full-fledged plants, and would wind their way through dead-wood structures until everything man-made was rotten and everything nature was green.
Not long later, I heard a car. I watched as a black sedan pulled down the dirt road and stopped at the other end of the site, not wanting to risk coming in any farther. Once, early on, a guy had driven his car all the way down to where I was sitting, and he had gotten stuck in mud. Not only did I have to smuggle drugs that time, but I also had to push a car free.
Two doors opened and two men climbed out. I watched, a little surprised, as they walked toward me.
The man on the right was bald and wore a black suit with dress shoes and sunglasses. He could have been twenty or he could have been forty: I had absolutely no clue. But he looked strong and he walked with an air of confidence that was unmistakable. He was definitely the muscle.
The guy on the left was new. There were two or three people that usually showed up, but none of them looked nearly as nasty or professional as this guy did. His face was scarred down one side and he had a constant scowl. I stood up as they approached.
“Why no shoes?” the scarred man asked.
I stared at him. “What?”
He nodded at the bench. “You took off your shoes.”
I almost laughed. “I had to cross a river to get here. I’m drying them off.”
He nodded as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Who are you guys?” I blurted out.
The scarred man smiled. “I am Rigley. This is Jenner. You will always speak with me. Pretend like he does not exist.” Rigley waved his hand at Jenner, dismissing him. Jenner didn’t move an inch, just stood there like a statue.