The Swailing

Optima: Cautious

The auto navigates smoothly out of town. Once I am on the open road and it picks up speed, I allow myself to relax a bit. To calm down, I tell myself that everything will be fine, that I'll be able to come back, that I'll see my dad again, that I am getting closer to my mom and brother every minute. At least I hope I am, since we are on the west coast. I would assume any step east has to be closer.

I figure Logan won't miss his auto until morning, and my dad won't be able to track me with my armband disabled. I suppose he might do what I did – just enter the same border town and try to meet up with me there. But I doubt it. He is about as adventurous as Logan. And maybe he hasn't taken my threat to look for my mom and Camden seriously. After all, I am prone to be a tiny bit dramatic. I'm not proud of it, but it's true.

He might call the safeguards and have me tracked down, but so far I haven't done anything truly illegal. I haven't even been gone two hours, I technically can't steal a vehicle that I am authorized to drive, and the safeguards are bound to take a call from a worried father with a grain of salt. I'm not the first teenage girl to throw a hissy fit and disappear for a few hours, and I won't be the last.

I relax and try to nap a bit but I can't really sleep.

I have a mom and a brother somewhere out there. Just thinking the word brother makes me feel more whole. They really might be alive, I might have a relationship with them, they might be something like me. I try to ignore the horrible feeling that I'm trading my father, with whom I already have a relationship, for two strangers I don't remember at all. But he didn't give me much of a choice in the matter. And I tell myself that this is temporary, that I'll see him again. I have to tell myself that.

Almost two hours pass as I try unsuccessfully to sleep. I start paying attention to where I am again when the auto slows down, entering another town. I check the GPS and see that I am now within the borders of Barstow.

The robotic voice tells me, "Destination reached." The auto turns slowly in to a parking lot. "Would you like to enter a new destination?"

I zoom in on the screen and search for something that might give me an idea. The border crossing location is shown, but I can't very well go to the border without a plan. I need a plan.

I need a guide.

And logic tells me that the most likely place to find a guide is near the border.

I direct the auto take me to the border crossing site. The small parking area is nearly empty and I feel like my auto will stand out if I just park it and wait for ... something. So I direct the auto to turn into what appears to be a way station of sorts. A small illuminated sign advertises nutrition and hydration, as well as restroom facilities. Despite the late hour, the building is well lit and appears to be open.

I get out of the auto and peer in through the windows, trying to see if there is anyone inside. If I just waltz in, I'm afraid someone will immediately identify me as a teenage runaway and call the safeguards.

"Hey."

The low, quiet voice behind me makes me jump and spin around, my heart racing. A man stands in the shadows so I can barely see his face. I take a step backwards until my back is literally up against the wall, my fight or flight instinct kicking in full force. I immediately regret showing my fear. The last thing I want is to appear younger, more scared and more vulnerable.

The man smiles, trying to put me at ease – I can see the whiteness of his teeth in the dark – and holds up his hands innocently. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"In an empty parking lot at 2 a.m.?" I steady my voice and wish I could steady my racing heartbeat.

He dips his head in apology. "Sorry. I suppose I could have been a little ... louder?"