Winters & Deadshore - Forbidden Cure by Thom J. Poore - HTML preview

Chapter 25: Borderline

The car joins the back of a long queue and crawls slowly towards the border control terminals. Four lanes of traffic flow through four independent checking terminals, each manned by a guard. A detection dog is walked across the four terminals at intervals, picking up various scents, from explosives and illegal drugs, through to human remains. As each vehicle enters a terminal the guards checks them over. If they deem anything looks suspicious then the car is pulled to one side for a more thorough examination. Trucks, lorries and coaches are ushered into a separate lane and terminal. The volume of traffic flowing both ways across the border is high.

“Hey guys, if you had to pick between being given huge opportunities in life and having massive parts of life taken away from you or having no opportunities at all but having nothing taken away, which would you choose?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Karl grunts.

“I’d take no opportunities.” Valencia says humbly. “What would you choose Emilio?”

“Well, there is a theory that for every action there are unlimited outcomes, and we actually live every eventuality. So I’d take the opportunities!”

Valencia ponders the thought and looks out of her window to the car on her left. She sees fed up parents ignoring their restless children, who are constantly clambering over one another in the back seat, arguing and giggling in equal measure. She then turns her attention to the car on the right, which harbours a thin, intelligent looking man. He turns his head, sensing observation, and smiles at her strangely. Valencia turns her head quickly back and slumps down in her seat, avoiding eye contact.

Sweat drips from Emilio’s brow as the car edges closer to the terminal. He glances at the guard dog as it walks past terminal two, which they are slowly approaching. Emilio contemplates the guards with an increasing degree of nervousness. He is in his own bubble of silent panic. He can hear jubilant laughter from the couple in the car in front. He yearns for their happiness. He looks over at Karl, who is huddled up with his feet on the glove compartment. Emilio slaps Karl’s thigh to make him take his feet down. Emilio knows if any one of the dogs picks up any kind of scent then it’s game over, condemning the group to a life behind bars. He turns on the radio to try and divert his attention from the stress that’s ripping him up inside. Through the old, tinny speakers crackles Madonna’s Material Girl, which Valencia starts to immediately bop her head to. Emilio turns the radio dial to change the channel.

“Hey, I was listening to that!” Valencia protests.

Emilio tunes into a local radio station, which is reporting that a young girl has gone missing in San Luis and was last seen at a local park. Emilio feels a horrendous cold chill creep down his spine as the story plays on his mind. He starts to think about the despair her parents must be feeling, which makes him woozy and nauseous. What if he gets caught and goes to jail, what anguish will his parents go though? Emilio has been so caught up in achieving something from his ill-fated trip that he hasn’t stopped once to consider the consequences of his actions on his family back home.At the back of his mind he battles with delusions of grandeur. A veil of fear descends upon him. Memories of past times without worry are like a lost paradise once taken for granted. The terminals seem like the fiery gates to hell, and the closer he gets, the more they burn away the layers of selfishness, exposing his deep guilt, suppressed for so long. Emilio is caught between two trains of thought. He considers telling Karl and Valencia about the hidden bounty, but refrains, fearing they may not speak to him ever again. He looks at the four queues leading up to the terminal and feels the need to change lane, although each line of traffic is moving at the same snail’s pace. Emilio indicates to his left to join lane number three behind a station wagon driven by an obese couple. The car behind flashes it’s headlamps and politely waves Emilio over. Emilio guides the car into lane three and holds his hand out of the window as a gesture of thanks.

The fuming hoard of automobiles creeps closer to the brightly illuminated terminals. Emilio feels faint. There are just two cars between them and the terminal. His right leg hovers over the accelerator pedal, feeling as though it’s made of jelly. His energy is sucked from him through fear. He sees the car in front roll forward and presses his jelly leg to the floor, which jerks the car forward, causing it to stall. Emilio then thinks of using this as cover for a last ditch attempt at salvation.

“Whoa did you feel that? I think I just heard the rear tyre burst. I better check it out. You guys wait here.”

Emilio jumps out of the car without waiting for a reply.

“I didn’t hear a tyre blow out. It certainly doesn’t feel like it either.” Says Valencia, confused and suspicious.

“Oh God, that’s all we need, a burst tyre! Great! Well I’m not doing it. Emilio can fix it himself with the spare in the back.” Karl says in a disgruntled tone.

Emilio crouches down to the right hand rear tyre and then pulls a frustrated expression, acting as if something is wrong with it. He opens the trunk, quivering. There is only one car between him and border control. He has little time to get rid of the drugs. He gazes at the drug filled spare tyre beneath the carpet and wonders anxiously how he will get the wheel out without anybody noticing.

In the car in front the overweight couple are returning home from the Baja California Mexican Food Festival. The tall and stocky terminal guard peers into the vehicle through the driver’s window. He witnesses the couple casually dipping their hands into family sized buckets of popcorn and slurping on litre cartons of soda, surrounded a pile of old food and drink packaging which has been lazily thrown into the rear passenger seats and into the footwells.

“Passports and driving license please, sir”.

The driver accidentally burps whilst opening his sugar coated mouth to answer.

“Oh, sorry! One minute, officer, they’re around here somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

The couple, although lazy and unorganised are helpful and polite, apologizing profusely for their clumsiness the entire time. “Sorry officer, I’m sure I put my licence in the glove box somewhere! I’m always putting things down and forgetting where I put them.” He opens the glove box, which is full of candy, which spills out onto his wife’s lap. “Would you like a candy, officer, we have plenty here?”

The officer rolls his eyes and looks back at the traffic piling up. He notices nobody is in the driver’s seat in the car behind. At that moment, Emilio springs up from behind the vehicle. He stares at the guard, who stares back, without looking away. The moment is awkward. Emilio feels like he’s been caught red handed. The guard stands to attention, waiting for Emilio to do something, as he is uncomfortable with people getting out of their car so close to border control. Emilio shuts the trunk in defeat and walks quietly and slowly back to the driver’s door, fearing he has just given the game away.

“Thought I had a blown tyre. My mistake!” Emilio shouts, struggling to keep control of his vocal cords. He gets back into the car and prays Karl and Valencia won’t talk to him.

“What was wrong with the tyre?” Asks Valencia.

“Dude, are you alright? What’s wrong? There’s a tear running down your cheek.” Karl has never seen Emilio cry before.

“The tyre’s fine, and so am I. I’m not crying dick-weed, some grit flew in my eye, that’s all.” Responds Emilio, who thinks it’s pointless telling Karl and Valencia what the real problem is. He couldn’t bear to tell them now, anyway. The last thing he wants is everyone freaking out as much as he is.

The guard turns back to the vehicle he is currently dealing with, shaking his head and sighing.

“Just your documents please, sir. We have long queues starting to form, and if you can’t find them right now you’ll have to pull over.”

Two passports and a license are passed out through the window. The guard looks at the garish photos and checks the name and address on the licence, which matches the database information on a monitor on the terminal wall. The guard waves the car through and then stands, arms folded, waiting for the mules to roll up to checking station. Emilio sees the car in front move on and duly restarts his engine, guiding the vehicle over to the terminal. His paranoia is causing his heart to beat so hard that he feels he may actually have a heart attack. He looks in the rear view mirror at Valencia, who seems surprisingly calm. He feels like he’s let her down at the last hurdle, after everything he’s put her through, and everything she’s done for him. He can’t even bring himself to look at Karl.

The patrolman with the detection dog is at terminal one and is just walking over to terminal two. Emilio can’t help but keep glancing at the dog, which is panting in the heat, occasionally licking his chops of foul saliva.

“Passports and driving licence, please!” The guard says irritably.

Emilio is still looking at the dog as he slowly pulls the fake passports and driving licence off the dashboard, handing them to the guard with a forced smile.

“What was the problem that made you leave the car?” Remarks the guard, looking at Emilio straight in the eyes as he looks up from the passports.

“I thought the rear hub cap had worked loose, sir, I thought I heard a clank like a tin can hitting the road. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Care if I take a look?” Asks the guard, testing Emilio, trying to work out if he’s being honest or not.

“Sure, feel free!” Emilio replies as calmly as he possibly can. The guard squints his eyes and touches the stubble on his chin as he leans into the car, staring down judgementally at Emilio. Emilio watches in the wing mirror as the guard walks to the rear of the car and kicks the chrome hub cap several times.

The guard then unexpectedly walks to the back of the car and opens the trunk. Emilio considers putting his foot down and speeding off, as he’s sure the guard will find the illegal packages. The guard roots around, lifting the carpet and checking under the spare wheel, before slamming the trunk shut and walking back to the driver’s window.

“Ok, where are you travelled from?” The guard asks.

Emilio is racking his brains for a quick reply. His mind is unusually stagnant through nervousness.

“Errr, San Felipe.”

“San Felipe! Lovely. What were you doing there?” The guard smiles coldly, trying to catch him out.

“Fishing mostly!” Emilio answers hesitantly.

The guard looks at Emilio cryptically and then back at his passport photo, then slowly up to the computer screen. All the information checks out with the registration plate.

Emilio is watching the detection dog at the next terminal out of the corner of his eye, tapping his hand on the dashboard nervously, smiling brightly whenever the guard looks at him, willing him to hurry up and let them through. Karl is sweating in silence. The guard is watching the traffic building up, anxious to get it down to a minimum as soon as possible. Karl feels like confessing, blurting out everything that he’s been through over the last couple of days.

Over at terminal two the detection dog’s ears stand on end. He starts pulling on his lead. The guard and Emilio look over. The guard on terminal two signals to Emilio’s guard, indicating that he needs assistance.

“Wait here for a moment, I’m not done with you yet!” The guard tells Emilio, before going over to terminal two to see what the commotion is about.

“The dog has picked up a scent. I’ve pulled the car over. I didn’t want to proceed without consulting you.” The young guard explains.

“Ok. You’ve done the right thing, kid! I’ll take over from here, you go and man my terminal!”

The dog pulls in Emilio’s direction. He is let off his leash and starts to run towards terminal three.

“Oh fuck, he’s got us!” Shouts Emilio.

“What are you talking about Emilio, how can the dog get us? We’re clean.” Valencia perches on the edge of the back seat to see what’s going on more clearly.

“There’s coke in the trunk. The spare wheel’s full of it, and now we’re fucked. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. God, I’ve messed up our entire lives this time.”

Karl leans forward, not wanting to believe what he’s hearing.

“No you fucking didn’t, Emilio. You’re not that stupid, you’re just kidding, please tell me you’re just kidding. Look at me, Emilio, you haven’t just sent me to jail have you.” Karl starts to sob uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, Karl. You should never have met me, I’m a fuck up!” Emilio cries.

“How could you do this to us Emilio, you bastard, and to think I actually cared about you!” Valencia punches Emilio violently in the back of the head.

“I didn’t know you cared about me, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it!” Emilio tries to make excuses, feeling for a moment like getting a gun and shooting himself in the head to end this tragic moment.

In the depths of their despair, the group fail to notice that the dog has circled around and headed for a silver estate car at terminal two. The guard waves the driver to pull over into a lay-by and, guided by the dog, begins removing the rear seats.

“Wait, where’s the dog?” Emilio looks around frantically.

The group look across to terminal two and see the guard who was initially questioning them lifting a small dead dog out of a black box under the rear passenger seat of the silver car. The guard shakes his head. He’s seen this kind of thing before. Without the required certificate of rabies vaccination, people would sometimes try and sneak animals across the border, but hours of driving without ventilation had caused the dog to suffocate, raw claw marks of frantic struggles to escape line the box. The young guard walks over, and after re-checking the passports and driving licence he waves Emilio, Karl and Valencia on.

“Take the third gate, please.” He smiles.

 As the car moves off, Karl closes his eyes, tears of happiness running down his face, as relief nourishes his soul. Choked with emotion and unable to speak, he raises his hand and high fives Valencia in triumph. The feeling is bittersweet. They can’t believe how Emilio put their lives at risk.

“I totally had you all going back there, you both completely fell for it, suckers!” Emilio puts on a jubilant front, trying his hardest to cover his tracks.

“That wasn’t fuckin funny, Emilio. If you were kidding, then you had me fooled. I thought I was going to jail. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that ever again.” Karl is not amused.

“You had me going back there too, Emilio. You’d better not be lying to us now or I swear to God I’ll turn my back on you forever.” Valencia steadies her nerves and tries to see the funny side. She didn’t think Emilio could be so selfish and takes him at his word for the time being, not wanting to think the worst of him.

“Come on, dudes! I wouldn’t dream of doing something so selfish! It’s me, Emilio, your buddy!” Emilio feels remorseful, despite getting the drugs over the border successfully. He can live with himself for the time being, as he knows he tried to do the right thing before it was too late. He presses the accelerator lightly. The car begins to gather speed. His heart skips a beat and then races with excitement. He considers telling the truth, but decides against it. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Emilio starts to bounce in his seat, completely elated, like he’s just got all the winning numbers for the jackpot.