It's almost midnight by the time we reach the Rosslin boarder gate.
I hide my handgun in a secret compartment beneath my feet. Citizens aren't allowed to have firearms, and getting caught with one is the last thing I need tonight.
The cars light up the boarder post as they creep through. There are three ahead of me. I just need to stay calm.
The eerie silence has me on edge. The booms are left up so no-one ever stops. The guards aren't searching any vehicles. That's good. Two cars ahead now.
The last car goes through. My turn. I take a deep breath and drive forward.
I don't look at the guards, but I have no doubt that they're looking at me. If they catch me with this lithium, I'll get years of prison time. No. Don't think about that. Just remain calm. You're just a courier delivering compressors. I glance at the guards to try look less suspicious.
Finally, I'm through the gate. Those were the longest seconds of my life. It's smooth sailing from-
My heart jumps out of my chest from a tap on my window. It's a guard. He's pointing to the empty lane on the side. They want me to pull over. Crap.
I'm boxed in by cars, so it's not like I have much of a choice. I follow his instruction and park the truck. I take a deep breath. Just stay calm. They've never got you before, they won't get you now. I roll down the window.
"Get out," he growls.
I open the door and step out the truck. Four of them surround me. I can't make out their expressions in the dark, but I can practically smell the malice radiating off them.
I squint as a flashlight is pointed at my face. "ID," he orders.
I hand over my phone ID, and he compares me to the picture.
"Robert Jacobson," he reads. "Why are you here?"
"Courier delivery," I answer.
He glares. "Delivering what?"
"Machine parts."
"And who's she?" He points to Pip, still handcuffed in the passenger seat.
"Just a slave."
"Search him," he orders.
A guard steps way too close and yanks my arms out. He pats me down, almost pushing me over in the process. Thank goodness I hid the gun. He grabs my truck keys and chucks them to the one in charge.
He walks to the back of the truck. Shit. I'm forced to follow with a series of shoves. He unlocks the cargo doors and pulls them open. He shines the flashlight inside, only to be met with the plethora of boxes that Pip and I loaded this morning.
He whips out his pocketknife and stabs a box. I know better than to say anything. It feels like all eyes are on me. I just hope that the darkness hides my uneasiness.
The box opens to reveal an old compressor. I only hid batteries in the last row. He turns, and I let out a silent breath of relief, but my heart races again when he steps up into the truck.
He stabs another box but finds the same thing. I've never seen border guards go further than opening the door. This is ridiculous. He goes all the way to the back and stops right in front of a battery box. Shit.
He cuts open the top. Shit. Shit. Shit. It's over. I'm done for. He shines his flashlight inside the box. The batteries are under the compressor. He turns around, and I avert my eyes. I can't watch.
He steps out of the truck holding only a flashlight. He missed them?
"I know you're hiding something, Robert," he begins. "I know your type. You smuggle prohibited items from the wasteland cities."
YOU ARE READING
From Chains
FantasyI'm working every waking hour. You'd think that smuggling would pay better, but nothing has been easy since the war. I can't go on like this. I need someone to take the load off my shoulders. I need a slave. --- Robert has had nothing handed to him...
