December 10, 2017

4:00 pm

Relax Inn

1100 North Constitution Ave, Ashdown, AR 71822

759 miles to the border

We're just twelve hours from the Mexican border.  At this point, timing and planning are everything.  One small mistake could cost us the rest of our lives, and I'm surprised that I'm not a complete basket case by this point in our journey, but then again, I've been pretty numb since this morning.  I'm still function of course, but it's almost robotic, my motions, the way I drive, and the way I respond to Mack's cries of hunger.  My mind doesn't drift, doesn't linger, just forces me to do the tasks because we have no choices.  

I spent the first few minutes after we arrived here, taking the plates off the car.  After our twenty four hour incubation period, we'll look for another car, and be on our way. 

That's the plan anyway. 

Shelby was such a loyal friend.  Even when she worked for me, she would have done anything I asked of her.  When I came to her that night, asking for her help, she didn't hesitate for a second.  She didn't care what it could mean, or how much danger she might be in once we were gone.  All she cared about was making sure that the three of us got out of the city, and to safety.  She would have done anything to make sure it happened.  It was a selfless favor that I knew could never be repaid.

She didn't deserve to die.

I want to blame myself.  I know I wasn't there to protect her, and I should have been.  I should have made sure she was safe before we left, but how? We had to leave, couldn't spare even one minute more in the city, and I wasn't even thinking about her safety at the time.  She didn't want me to worry about it.  She had told me the previous night at dinner to concentrate on myself, and Justin.  That she would handle it.  

If I could go back in time, I would have forced her to come with us.

But I can't do that.  I can't do anything.  I'm helpless.

I have to accept it, swallow the hurt, and press on.

I take the towel off my head and remove the plastic bag covering my hair.  I run my hands through my short boy cut, the golden blond blades slipping quickly through my fingers.  I stare at myself in the grimy mirror.  It's definitely not the same person staring back at me.  All my life, I've savored my long dark hair.  When I was little, my mother wouldn't dream of cutting it, just grooming the split ends until I was in high school and insisted having it cut to just past my shoulders.  That's how it's been ever since, until today.  I look like one of those hippy NYU students I pass frequently in Central Park on a sunny day, sipping Starbucks and smoking something in the form of a cigarette with her friends.  

"You know, it kind of suits you."  Justin leans up against the doorframe and smiles at me through the mirror.  "I like it."

He looks like some kind of deranged biker, with the fake scruffy beard and sideburns covering his face, and the scraggly long brown haired wig to match.  I told him to make himself as unrecognizable as possible, and he definitely met that challenge.  He's eons away from that clean cut, pretty boy lawyer from midtown Manhattan, and I'm praying it's enough to get us across the border.   

Once we're there, I'm planning to simply slip away into the anonymity of South America.  With so much rural land, and a lax government, it's easy to do.  I'm hoping to get a place off the beaten path, hide out for at least a year, and then figure out what we want to do.  It's a safe plan, a sure fire way of getting Hannah off our trail.  Crossing into the country is going to be the hardest part, and with the entire state of Texas still left to cross, I know how much risk is going to be involved.  

"Here."  I pick up the Polaroid camera that I purchased from Walmart and motion Justin over to the blank, urine colored bathroom wall.  "I have to take this picture to glue onto the passport."

He does it without a question, and I snap two pictures, the better of which I'll use to complete the phony passport I had made for him.  I make him take a picture of me too, the same way, and then I get down to work while Justin gives Mack her second bottle of the day.  I refused to turn the news on again the entire trip here, and now that we have a television, I've calmly asked Justin to defer from any news channels. Seeing the updates and hearing how the police are tracking us, makes me lose hope.

I can't lose hope.

"Mags."

I'm nearly finished gluing my own picture to my passport, quite happy with the results of Justin's, when I hear his voice.  I slowly approach the bathroom doorway, and see the worry all over his camouflaged face as he holds Mack in his arms.  "What's wrong?"

"She's wheezing."

"Give her medicine."

"I did.  Nothing changed.  I don't think this new stuff you have is strong enough."

I can tell by the look on his face, that this isn't good.

What else can possibly go wrong at this junction?  My plan was to stay in this junk room for a day and throw people off our course.

Now Mack is sick.

"What do we do," I croak.

He seems to debate what to say, but then he sighs, and gives in.  "We'll have to take her somewhere."

"We can't disguise her as a boy at a walk in clinic.  They'll figure it out."

He looks at the floor.  Mack's breathing becomes more labored with every passing second.  "I don't know what else to do, Mags."

I shake my head a little, begging myself to think harder, to come up with something.

But I'm not a doctor.

"With our disguises they might not make us."  I nod, trying desperately to make myself believe it.  "We just have to be discreet."

"Right." 

He stares into my eyes and I know he's terrified.

"I'll pack the car."

I know it's no use.  We can't stay here if we're going to take her to a doctors office.  The moment they see us, there's a chance of being recognized, and we have to be ready to get back on the road as soon as possible.

"Dress her in plain clothes."  I call to him twenty minutes later, as I walk out the door with all of our bags in my arms.  "Nothing that will bring attention to who she might be."

"Right."

He starts the work immediately, and Mack seems to get worse as the moments pass.  I know how dire the situation is starting to become, and I rush to pack everything into the car in the matter of a few minutes. We get the baby into her car seat, and Justin drives us away from the safety of the dingy motel.  

"There's an urgent care ten miles away," I say to him, as I thumb through a brochure that talks about local business in the area.  
Justin says nothing, just stares intensely at the road ahead, Mack wheezing and crying in the background.  I know better than to push him, because he hasn't tried to push me since that first night in Virginia. Instead, I direct him to the walk-in medical center, never more thankful when we pull into the lot and Justin turns the engine off.  

"I'll talk.  Nurses are more sympathetic to mothers," I tell him.

"Maggie."  Justin looks over at me, and I think this the most worried I've seen him since we left.  "Please don't let them take her away.  I couldn't live with myself if Hannah got her back.  Please just...be careful."

"I promise."  I grab is hand, and he squeezes mine.  "Come on."

I get Mack out of her car seat.  I try to ignore the fact that she's much worse as we carry her through the doors.  The clinic is sleepy.  One older gentleman sits in the corner, waiting for his appointment, and a bored looking receptionist sits behind a desk.  Good.  Empty is better.

"What can I do for y'all."  She drawls it out, barely looking up at us.

"I think she's having an asthma attack," I say it gently, in my southern twang.  I feel Justin behind me, his hands on my shoulders.  "We ran out of her medication.  No insurance."

She looks up, and studies all of us for a few moments.  "Well, she sounds like it.  Let's get you seen right away."

She's not suspicious.  It's working.

We're escorted into a doctors office and I'm asked to fill out some form. I hand it to Justin once we're alone, and he fills it out with as much bs as he can think of, I'm sure.  The doctor walks in within minutes, and immediately has me hand Mack off to him.  She's still wailing and wheezing, and he takes his time listening to her heart and monitoring her breathing.  

"How old?"  He hands Mack back to me.

"Five months."

I swallow hard and exchange a glance with Justin.

"Well, she's having a mild attack," he nods.  "Says here you ran out ofher medication.  What kind has she been taking?"

I draw a blank.

"Liquid Corticosteroid." 

Thank God Justin is more observant than I am.

"Well, I can give her a dose now, and prescribe more so you're not without it." He fills an eye dropper with the medication and inserts it into Mack's mouth, while I hold her still.  "I'd advise you to admit her to St. Doyle's for the night, just to be safe.  I can call over..."

"Oh no, that won't be necessary."  I manage to get it out without sounding panicked.  "She'll do just fine.  We're almost to grandma's, right sweetheart?" I glance at Justin.

"Right, yeah, we're headed to my mothers."

The doctor narrows his eyes slightly. "How far is that?"

"Houston.  We're heading there right after we leave here," Justin says.  "It's my fault.  I knew she was running out of medication, but I thought we would make it to my moms before this happened."

"Well, I can't exactly stop you." The doctor scribbles out a prescription on his notepad and tears it off, handing it to Justin.  "I'd just advise you to think twice about it.  You don't want to have an emergency when you're in the middle of no where, son."

"Thank you doctor," Justin smiles professionally, and shakes the mans hand.  It's his classic lawyer persona coming out of the woodwork, not something you would expect from a scraggly biker looking guy.  "We'll take good care of her."

He sighs, gives Mack one more glance, and then leaves us.

I have no idea what was running through his mind.  Was he trying to stall us because he figured us out, or was he simply concerned for Mack's well being?

I don't know, but we can't stick around to find out.

"Let's go."

Justin says it before I can, and then he takes me by the hand as I cradle Mack in the crook of my other arm, and we walk back into the lobby together.  The receptionist has us pay her for the visit, and then we're back outside again.  I let out the breath I was holding, but it may have been too soon.  Justin is staring off to the side, and he pulls me behind him protectively.

"That doctor is on the phone," he whispers. 

I glance in the same direction as Justin.  Sure enough, the doctor is there, staring at our car, talking into his phone in a harsh whisper.

"I think it's them," I hear the doctor say.  "I can't be entirely sure, but the car is the same.  No plates though.  I'm sure they took them off. You saw the newscast, they said to be on the lookout for that sort of thing."

"Do you have the gun?" Justin asks me.

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

"What are you gonna do?"

He stares at me for a moment.  "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then just go to the car.  I promise...I won't hurt him, I just want to scare him."

I believe him, because I know Justin is too smart, and too kind to shoot someone for a reason like this.  If the doctor was threatening me or the baby or himself, sure.  But he's not.  He's just doing what the media has told him to do, just like anyone else would.

I go to the car and get Mack settled in her car seat before I get into the drivers side.  When I look back over my shoulder I see Justin has the doctor pressed up against the building, gun to his head.  I start up the car and look on, hoping he can wrap this up soon.  There's no telling who the Doctor called, or if they're on the way to get us.

Justin is running towards me soon enough, and I pull forward, reaching over to open the passenger door so he can simply jump inside.

Then a loud pop ripples through the air, shaking me to the core.  For a moment it's surreal.  The blood stain starts out small, right at his shoulder blade, then it expands, and the blood starts to seep through the fabric and down his arm.  He stares at me, almost too shocked to believe it himself.  I reach out for him, and he reaches his hand out, his breathing labored.

"Justin!"

He slumps against the car and falls to the ground.

I scream, thrusting open my door and running to his side.  Justin is clutching his shoulder where the bullet has hit him, and as I glance back, I can see that receptionist standing in the open door way, shot gun in hand, ready to take another strike at us.  Obviously people are ready to defend themselves around here.

I wish we'd been smarter.

"Leave me here," Justin whimpers.  "Just get Mack out."

"I'm not leaving you."  The tears stream down my face, and I clutch his hand in mine, putting my free hand on top of the wound and pressing slightly, trying to stop the blood, but it just seeps through my fingers and Justin screams. 

"I'm...shh...I'm sorry," I sob, stroking his hair.  "I'm sorry." 

"I'm no good hurt...Mags..." He takes a large breath.  "...just go."

"No!"  I scream it at him, and throw his good arm over my shoulder so I can help him to his feet and into the car.  He's bleeding all over me now, and I'm scared out of my mind, but I do my best to take even breaths so I can keep us both calm.  Finally, I get him in the seat.  I take the gun from him and close the door, keeping my finger on the trigger as I point it at the receptionist.  She doesn't shoot me.  I think she's too scared at this point.

It buys me enough time to get into the car and peel out onto the road.  I look over at Justin.  He's still clutching his shoulder, holding back his groans as best he can, but I can tell he's losing a lot of blood...very quickly.

"We have to stop...Justin...we have to stop the bleeding."

He looks at me, but can't seem to get the words out, he's in too much pain.  Quickly, I remove my tank top, leaving me in just a bra and my jeans.  "Here, tie this around your shoulder.  Make sure you pull it tight, Justin."

He seems to channel all his energy into this one simple task.  He pulls the tank in a knot around the wound, and pulls it tightly together with his teeth, panting once it's done. 

"We'll get somewhere so I can clean it.  Do you think the bullet is still inside?"

My hands are shaking.  I can barely hold the steering wheel straight.  Mack is screaming again too, but I can't blame her.

He gazes at me, exhausted now.  "I can't tell."

I squeeze his thigh.  "Just hang on for me, okay?  Please, Justin, I can't do this without you.  We've come too far."

"I'll hang on, for you Mags.  Always for you."

He smiles slightly, and then he passes out