Refugee Prison Break

Chapter 25

It took just under 30 hours to drive from Las Vegas to Chicago, including stops for gas and groceries. We each did four-hour shifts with eight hours to rest between them.

The camper van was loud yet cozy. As we wound our way over the Rocky Mountains, I did my best to quell Ernesto's worries by talking through the plan. The more familiar he was with our covert measures, the less anxious, I hoped, he would become. And by describing everything aloud, I also became aware of issues and points that needed refining. For example, it only occurred to me as we descended into Denver that we a large diesel generator with a mile of cord was required to run the boring machine. The boring machine didn't have its own motor.

At the end of Aunt V.'s shift, Ernesto was either too tired to maintain his jittery state, or I had succeeded in soothing him.

My turn at the wheel took us through Nebraska past places with names like Paxton, and North Platte, and Lexington, and Lincoln.

While spending time with Erny felt like work, hanging out with Aunt V. was a ball. She told me all about the exploits she had done over the years, including hitch-hiking, fruit picking jobs, the pride she felt getting a degree in her forties, her card counting days (she made a ton of money in the casinos), her run-ins with mobsters, and her trips all over South America.

"You know, you remind me of me when I was a little kiddo!" she said.

I flushed at the flattery.