2Border Crossing
010105, 022005
andrew adams
"Why isn't Mommy coming?"
Darren sighed very, very loudly. "She's not like us," he said. "She doesn't want to be a part of this." He turned on his windshield wipers and knocked off a fresh layer of snow. It fell fast and thick and accumulated quickly.
"We aren't seeing Mommy again?"
"No," Darren said, hesitant. "No, you'll see her again."
He looked at Zach, an ambitious eight-year-old forced into a baby seat behind him. Zach was a tall, skinny young boy, a carrot-topped kid whose ribs poked through his skin. Although he was eight, and incredibly intelligent for his age, he failed to meet the required weight requirements and couldn't legally sit in a moving car unless he sat in a baby seat. It was absurd, much like a lot of the other laws they were escaping from, and he hoped that it wouldn't be as universally accepted in the Blue region. He was now traveling with one passenger, only one, and he wasn't even allowed to sit in the passenger seat where they could hold a decent conversation. His son wouldn't sit in a baby seat when he hit the double-digits, and Darren was prepared to fight for that.
"When?" Zach asked.
Darren grounded himself again. "What was that?"
"When am I seeing her again?"
"It'll be hard," he said. "You'll have to do this every time."
"Do what?"
"Cross the border." Zach sighed, and it hurt Darren. "Don't worry," he said. "It'll all work out." Zach was silent. "We aren't the only people doing this, Zach. You'll have lots of new friends and people to meet, and they'll all be like you."
"But I want to meet everyone."
"We're leaving the bigots behind, okay? They wouldn't like you, anyway." Darren bit his lip. That hadn't come out as he'd planned. "I mean, they don't like anyone who's different from them. They indoctrinate you."
Zach didn't say a word for a long time, and then: "What's indoctrinate?"
"Brainwash," Darren said. "Like aliens."
"Oh."
And then somebody honked their horn behind him. Darren leaned back in his seat, his comfy leather seat, and sighed. There wasn't much he could do; the line stretched back almost ten cars, and the process wasn't particularly fast. He was amazed by the speed with which the borders had been lined with Customs Officers; it seems like they'd sprouted up less than a week after the secession. He wished that they'd waited a month or two.
George W. Bush's inauguration hadn't gone over well with 49 of the country. Riots erupted in Washington, and within a week a small rebel group, called the Blue Devils by the Reds and the Free Minds by the Blues, had overtaken the White House. The insurrection was put down, but the resulting fervor brought the Democratic minds together. Within a week, the Blue States had banded together, modified the Constitution, and seceded.
A riveting speech by Barack Obama brought him to the movement's forefront, even over John Kerry, and he took command shortly after. The New Constitution was amended with him in mind. They declared Chicago the capitol, Obama the president, and suddenly a Mass Migration broke out through the nation. The more politically-oriented minds packed up everything and headed for new states, new homes.
"Why can't Mommy come?"
"Drop it, Zach. Mommy doesn't want to."
He supposed she could have, if she'd really wanted; Illinois was practically a Red state with a Blue hub. But he didn't know how long it would stay that way. A brief glance over the rows of stalled cars heading in his direction showed an almost empty highway beyond the checkpoint. The customs station held up everyone, and nobody had passed through the gates in several minutes. Just beyond, on the neighboring roads, Republican cars were being rummaged through, searched, and approved. Leaving Illinois.
The car in front of Darren moved ahead, and he drifted forward.
Snow crunched beneath them.
"What's taking so long?" Zach whined.
"It's a long process, Zach. They've got to search the car, test your beliefs, and ask you about your stay. We'll get through fine, buddy, don't worry about that. It'll just be a while."
"This sucks."
"Don't say 'sucks.' It's not nice."
"All the boys at school say it."
"Yeah, well, Indiana's Red, isn't it?"
"Does Indiana suck?"
Darren hesitated. "No. Just some of the people."
"Do all Reds suck?"
"Don't say 'suck.'"
"Do they?"
"Yes."
Zach frowned. He couldn't decipher the message his father was giving him. He didn't know to take it at its base level, to believe that the Reds hated everyone and that the Blues took them all in, but he also couldn't rationalize, then, his own father's hatred.
His mind wandered very, very quickly. "Did you bring the DVD player?"
"The portable one?"
"Yeah."
He drifted forward again.
"It's in the trunk."
"Can you get it?"
Darren looked back at Zach, who smiled at him. Darren laughed and nodded, unbuckling his seat belt. He reached for the doorknob, and that's when the first explosion rocked the car, and everything trembled. And then another went off, on the other side, and the car was engulfed in a haze of smoke, fire, and snow. Zach screamed as the car lifted into the air, up and onto its side. They watched the world flip over before them, heard the crunch as their car collided into another, felt the glass falling onto and into their skin. Without a seatbelt, Darren fell, hit his head, and crumpled into a heap. Only the baby seat saved Zach.
And then there were shouts, and feet running around them. Zach was still screaming when he saw the door fly off its hinges and a masked man bend down to look in at him. "We got survivors!" he called, and then he started reaching in for them.
Zach began to scream, and the noise ripped into Darren's eardrums. He found himself wishing his son would just shut up, that he'd left him behind with his mother. "Zach, stop shouting!" he cried. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to push the door open; it was deformed and wouldn't budge. "These people are here to help us!"
Darren noticed that his window had been shattered, and he got down on his stomach and began to crawl out of the window. Glass cut into his stomach as he scraped his skin along the ground, but the pain was barely registering. All he could feel was the throbbing pulse in his head, where he'd fallen against the roof. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eye.
And then he was out in the snow, and there was smoke everywhere, and blood was dripping off him and the world's pure white was changing into crimson in a slow, slow drizzle as the blood dripped off the victims and the cold was overwhelming. Snowflakes hit his face and he squinted. The blood in his eye stung. He lifted a hand to wipe his face clean. There was a shard of glass glittering on his sleeve and his hand was just as red as anything he could imagine. He stopped.
And then he spotted one of the masked officials running up to him, bursting out of the smoke. He was wearing a gas mask and holding a military rifle. Darren reached out for him, stumbled, and tried to grab for support. "Help me!" he cried. "I can't see!"
He heard Zach crying out behind him.
And then the man lifted his rifle and whipped him with it. Darren fell to the ground, dazed.
"Daddy!" Zach was crying. "Help me!"
And then there were gun shots. Darren's heart seemed to stop. Zach was silent.
"Get them all into the center!" somebody was shouting. "Now, now, now!"
Somebody grabbed Darren's pants by the waist and began to drag him away. He could smell battery acid and gasoline. The fire raged. There were screams everywhere. The further he was dragged, the longer the trail of blood he left behind became.
And then he was thrown into a pile of bodies. He looked over and spotted a man lying beside him, a seemingly rich, well-groomed, man who was probably a young professional, a yuppie who could blend into Wall Street without a problem.
He was missing a body.
Darren screamed, and then he saw Zach climbing over the bodies. "Daddy!"
Darren held out his arms and Zach leapt into them, embracing him. "I want my mommy..." he sobbed, his head buried in Darren's chest. Suddenly there was a gunshot, and people screamed for them to get down, and Darren dropped and when Zach fell away from him he was covered in blood. Darren's blood. "What's happening...?" he cried.
"I don't know," Darren said.
He looked around. The mass of bodies had been collected and thrown into a pile within a ring of cars. Blue trucks, red vans, and silver station wagons circled them all. Smoke drifted in the air and mingled with the snow, and a fire burned. Somewhere, more bombs were ticking.
A masked man, a terrorist of sorts, leapt onto one of the car roofs. He held up his rifle and fired out, beyond the circle of cars, and Darren heard screams. In the distance, sirens were approaching. There were already more gunshots in the distance. The man with the mask had megaphone.
"Shoot me and we'll shoot a hostage! I'm here to negotiate!"
He walked along the hood of the car, trailing his gun along an audience Darren couldn't see.
"We are the Red Revolution!" he cried. "This is our first attack; it will not be our last! Another cell is attacking a New York customs station as we speak. These attacks will not end until the embargo ends!"
Darren thought he heard cheers coming from the other side of the highway, from the Republican Station.
"We are here to Liberate the Reds!" the man cried again, leaping onto the hood of a truck. As he walked up it and into the truck bed, he continued: "Today the Great War begins. The Blue States will not win! You are cocky, you are overconfident! You have us surrounded, you have the cities and you have the production facilities, but an inward-siege will fail you, I guarantee! We have the guns, the training, the will, the faith and love of God!"
Zach leaned over to Darren. "What's happening?"
"Shut up!" Zach recoiled, but Darren didn't notice. "I'll tell you in a second."
The man in the mask leapt up onto an old VW bug. "Today, you blocked eight of our major import and export stations. We have eight hostages. For every blockade and embargo you lift, we give you one hostage back!" And then he threw the megaphone back into the center of the circle, got down on one knee, and fired his rifle. There were more screams, and then the man rolled off the car and back into the circle. His comrades ran over, slapped him on the back, and congratulated him on a job well done.
Zach leaned in to ask his father a question, remembered the earlier response, and stopped. "What is it?" Darren asked.
He opened his mouth to speak, took in air, and began coughing, choking on the smoke. Darren slapped him on the back, and when Zach recovered he asked: "Who are they?"
"Republican terrorists," Darren said. "Literally, their own biggest enemy."
Zach didn't follow.
And then: "You won't get away with this!" Darren turned to see where the call had come from. It was another young professional, and they'd risen to their feet. The Red Revolutionaries paused, stopped, and all looked at him. And then, with a few shared glanced, two ran over toward him. He ducked and coward, but they beat him into submission with their rifles. He collapsed onto the ground.
"Everybody, split up!" one of them called, and each took a separate corner, guns pointed down at the hostages. In the ensuing confusion, Darren lost track of which masked man had delivered the sermon. Now, they all looked the same.
A terrorist lurched over to Darren and Zach and aimed his gun down at them. "You're little shits are screwed," he hissed, and then he fired. Zach and Darren screamed. The rifle nearly deafened them, there was a shrill ringing, they could practically taste the smoke, and one of the dead bodies around them had a new hole to bleed from.
Zach was wailing into Darren's shoulder, their own personal terrorist was trailing him with his rifle, and Darren was unable to find his focus. He saw the young man who'd cried out being brought to his feet. His mouth was being duct-taped, a mask was being dragged over his head, and his hands were being tied together. He was screaming and writhing, but it was unintelligible by now.
And then the Reds pushed him onto the ground. He fell onto his face and Darren imagined that he could hear his spine cracking. He pulled Zach closer to him, and Zach began to scream. Glass from the car wreck was digging into his skin.
"Shut the hell up!" their guard cried, and he fired another bullet into the dead bodies.
The young man was being wrapped in a camouflage jacket, and then they stood him up again. He looked like a Revolutionary. And then they strapped a vest to him, lined with C4.
While one restrained the young man, the other terrorist grabbed the megaphone and leapt back on top of a car. He stumbled, slipped on the snow on a hood, and fell. His head cracked into a window. There was silence.
But, lying on his side, he still managed to lift the megaphone up to his mouth. "We're sending out a negotiator!" he cried, and then he rolled back into the circle. He wobbled, grabbed his head, and crouched down, hidden behind the cars.
And then they pushed the hostage out, covered in C4. He stumbled over a car and tripped, scrambled to his feet. The Revolutionaries watched him stumble and slide, and then he disappeared from view. The Reds came back together.
"It's a suicide bomber!" somebody screamed.
There were gunshots, and then an explosion.
The terrorists began howling. Darren's mind scrambled for ways out, but he couldn't think of anything. A passing terrorist passed their own guard and slapped him on the back. "How ya doin, Tom?"
"My hands are fuckin' freezin!" he shouted.
"It's for the cause, man! It's for the cause!" And then he retreated back. Their guard, Tom, he looked back at Darren and Zach and readjusted the gun against his shoulder.
Darren looked up at Tom coldly. Tom noticed, turned his aim toward him, and sneered. The two glared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. And then Darren found himself on the edge, found himself wanting to scream and run for safety, and it just spilled out of him: "You're not going to get away with this, you flaming racist bigot."
Tom was unfazed. He let his gun drop a little, aiming at Darren's crotch. "Don't fuck with me, gaywad. I've got the gun."
And then he pulled the trigger.
Darren screamed.
"Daddy!"
The bullet ripped into his skin and exited in the same second, ripping apart skin and muscle, cracking bone, and exploding out of the back of his leg in a red splatter.
"Your kneecap's next, freak."
Darren grabbed his leg and began howling. Zach grabbed him.
"Don't die don't die don't die!"
And then another Revolutionary ran over to Tom.
"What the hell just happened?"
"Don't die, daddy, stop it, daddy, don't!"
"I shot the queer. He was trying to escape."
Darren groaned and tried to shake his head. He was already getting weaker. The blood was pouring out of his leg, over his fingers. It was warm, the only warmth in the cold snow.
"You asshole!" the new terrorist cried. "Stick to the plan!"
"I was!" Tom cried.
"You know what happens to traitors?!" he screamed, lifting his gun to Tom's head. And suddenly there was another gunshot, and Tom's head exploded. The terrorists all turned, seeing the slaughter of their own, and burst forward.
"We got a snapper!" somebody cried.
"No, it's Tom!" he shouted. "Tom cracked! He shot a hostage!"
"It's Eli!" somebody screamed. And then the shooter was on the ground, and all his comrades were jumping onto him, it was a gigantic dogpile of the people he was supposed to be allied with, all trying to stop a traitor, and all the while blood was spilling out of Darren's leg. "Eli's breaking!" somebody cried.
The leader ran over. "What's happening?" he screamed.
"Eli can't handle the pressure!" another shouted.
And then there was another gunshot. From outside the circle.
Darren looked up. A SWAT team was bursting over the cars, guns ready, and the entire dogpile was erupting in sprays of blood. Zach screamed, and a stray bullet sliced through the Revolutionaries and hit his father in the belly. Darren cried out in pain and tears ran down his bloody face, washing the glass away. The SWAT team poured over the terrorists.
Darren was fading from consciousness. He felt hands over him, felt policemen lifting him up and dragging him away with his son. He fell into blackness as they hoisted him up over a truck. Zach was put into an ambulance and ferried off to an ambulance. He watched his father die.
The Second Civil War had begun.