{"id":273233,"date":"2025-06-04T18:42:03","date_gmt":"2025-06-04T18:42:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peraltafinancing.com\/entertainment\/books\/the-crossing-close-to-the-bone-publishing\/"},"modified":"2025-06-04T18:42:03","modified_gmt":"2025-06-04T18:42:03","slug":"the-crossing-close-to-the-bone-publishing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fivemor.com\/?p=273233","title":{"rendered":"The Crossing | Close To The Bone Publishing"},"content":{"rendered":"


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It\u2019s stifling hot, and the border is crowded today. Gaby and I are sleep deprived after three nights in a hostel where feral cats routinely wandered in through the open windows at night, to say nothing of the street noise. We said goodbye to Chuck this morning \u2013 he traveling to the North to meet up with friends \u2013 so we lost the only one of us with any solid language skills. His absence feels a little like bouncing on a trampoline with no safety net. We\u2019ll probably be fine, but it feels just a tad reckless. Things take a while as we wind our way through customs, but we make it through without hassle and start the journey back to our camp.
+++++<\/span>First is a short bus ride across the border, an expansive landscape of sand and desert vegetation. I glance over at Gaby, a tall, dark-haired German girl barely twenty-one years old. We\u2019ve been working together for the last two months at the dig site, and we\u2019re exhausted. The heat is rough in the summer, each day we only work until noon, digging and sifting through layers of earth. Once back at our camp, a concrete block with rusty bed frames, no air conditioning and the roughest of bathroom options, we spend hours cleaning our finds, mostly Bronze Age pottery shards. The team eats dinner together, lamb or beef or sometimes falafel and lots of pita, and then we get to bed early so we\u2019re ready for the 4am wake up call.
+++++<\/span>The bus shakes, and for a moment we\u2019re lifted out of our seats. I see the sign as we pull into a parking lot indicating we\u2019ve made it safely across the border.
+++++<\/span>We hop off the bus with our backpacks and are descended upon by cab drivers. Gaby waves them away.
+++++<\/span>\u201cLet\u2019s find our next bus,\u201d she says.
+++++<\/span>I pause, eyeing the rides on offer. The bus back to camp is painfully slow and still requires a short taxi ride out to the site. And, it\u2019s so hot. As Gaby heads toward the bus stop, a young driver approaches me, early twenties, tall with light brown hair and freckled skin.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGood afternoon,\u201d he smiles. \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d
+++++<\/span>His American accent stops me. \u201cHow much to Madaba?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re American?\u201d he exclaims. \u201cWhere are you from?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYes. I live in D.C.\u201d I tell him.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m from Chicago.\u201d He holds out his hand and I shake it, always happy to meet a fellow compatriot.
+++++<\/span>\u201cChicago? What are you doing here?\u201d I shield my eyes from the sun to get a closer look at him. His green eyes sparkle in the sun.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m visiting my uncle for the summer. He teaches at the University. Are you working on the dig out there? I\u2019ve dropped off a few people at the camp this summer.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYes, we are,\u201d I say nodding towards Gaby.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m Tom.\u201d He smiles and holds out his hand.
+++++<\/span>Gaby turns around. \u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d
+++++<\/span>Tom introduces himself, making the pitch to drive us. I\u2019m certain she will agree, but instead she leans over and reminds me of Chuck\u2019s instructions to stick to public transportation.
+++++<\/span>I push back. \u201cThis will be so much quicker. He\u2019s been to the camp already. Come on.\u201d
+++++<\/span>We\u2019ve been in the car about twenty minutes when Tom turns off the main road. Gaby is deep in conversation with him, recounting our adventures on the dig, and much of her life story. I wait to see if we get back on the main road, but instead Tom makes more circuitous turns. We\u2019re in the middle of nowhere save for the occasional house of white stucco that pops onto the landscape.
+++++<\/span>I glance at Gaby to see if anything has registered but she continues chatting away. I\u2019m uneasy. No one knows where we are. I turn on my phone to pull up a map and look at the route. No service.
+++++<\/span>\u201cTom, why did we get off the main road?\u201d I lean forward.
+++++<\/span>\u201cIt\u2019s a shortcut. I mentioned that I\u2019ve driven a few folks out to the camp before. They\u2019ve given me the inside track on the quickest route.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I sit back unable to quiet the nerves that are buzzing, telling me to be on alert. I unzip my backpack, feeling around for my Swiss Army Knife. The kind with a lot of pull-out accessories, a couple of which are small knives. It\u2019s not much, but I feel better. I slip it into my pocket just as we slow down. A large white house appears and we pull into the drive. My stomach lurches.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat are we doing here?\u201d I demand.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI have to make a quick stop; it will only take a few minutes,\u201d Tom says.
+++++<\/span>\u201cA stop?\u201d I ask. \u201cBut where are<\/i> we?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cThis is my uncle\u2019s house. Please, come inside. I just want to pick up a few things since we\u2019re so close by.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Gaby looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I get out of the car and scan the area. There are a handful of houses nearby and I spot a couple small children playing in the distance. I don\u2019t know what to do so I follow Tom up the steps and Gaby trails.
+++++<\/span>We walk into the house which is spacious and well-cooled. The main living area has a high ceiling, like an atrium, and there are lots of plants, plush furniture, and white walls. Tom tells us to relax and he\u2019ll bring us tea.
+++++<\/span>\u201cOh, that\u2019s okay,\u201d I say not wanting to drag this out a second longer.
+++++<\/span>Tom nods and disappears down a hallway.
+++++<\/span>I survey the house for any sign of another person, the uncle, a wife, and swallow hard when I find none.
+++++<\/span>Gaby sits down on the couch, her long legs crossed.
+++++<\/span>\u201cAre you feeling weird about this?\u201d I ask her.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m not getting a bad vibe from him. People have been nothing but nice to us since we got to this country.\u201d Gaby is right and for a moment that calms me. But he\u2019s American, I think.
+++++<\/span>I hear a light clatter and turn expecting Tom but am surprised to see a woman walking into the room. She looks around forty years old and is very well dressed. I\u2019m so relieved to see her I croak out an awkward \u2018hi\u2019.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGood afternoon,\u201d she says in a very proper British accent. She sets a silver tray down on the table in front of us. She\u2019s petite with long brown hair and wears a flowing purple and blue dress. A stack of gold bracelets dangle from her wrist as she fills our cups with a steaming hot tea. She points to the sugar and honey on the tray, and I shake my head.
+++++<\/span>\u201cTom mentioned you girls are from the states, where abouts?\u201d she asks.
+++++<\/span>Gaby responds, but I can\u2019t stop looking at her clothes and jewelry which are very stylish.
+++++<\/span>I interrupt them. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, is Tom coming back soon?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m right here!\u201d Tom announces walking in. \u201cThank you, Becca,\u201d he says sitting down across from us. He picks up a cup of tea for himself and takes a sip. I lift my cup and taste the strong mint on my lips. I swallow a few drops and set the cup back down. I don\u2019t pick it up again. Becca does not join us, but hovers around the room doing what, I don\u2019t know.
+++++<\/span>After a few minutes of small talk, Tom says it\u2019s time to go. I watch him and Becca walk down the hallway, and I strain to make out what they are saying, but with no success.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWe\u2019ll be out of here in a minute,\u201d I whisper to Gaby as much as to myself. But, as the minutes tick by, I keep thinking, we are still here. We are not leaving.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGaby, check for cell service.\u201d Despite the air conditioning, I\u2019m sweating.
+++++<\/span>Gaby swipes her phone open. \u201cNothing. Wait. Yes! I\u2019ve got a signal.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cOh, thank God. Text Chuck. Drop a pin so he knows where we are.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYeah, got it.\u201d She taps quickly. \u201cIt\u2019s done.\u201d
+++++<\/span>At that moment Tom walks into the room carrying a backpack.
+++++<\/span>\u201cLet\u2019s get going,\u201d he smiles. I take my first deep breath since we\u2019ve been in the house.
+++++<\/span>As Tom drives us away from the house, I try to remember if he\u2019s going back the way we came. There are so few landmarks, it\u2019s difficult to know, but I\u2019m relieved to be in the car.
+++++<\/span>\u201cBecca really liked you girls,\u201d Tom says, looking at us from his rear-view mirror. \u201cShe says you\u2019ll do great.\u201d He slows the car and comes to a stop.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d A fresh wave of panic tightens my chest.
+++++<\/span>He doesn\u2019t answer and steps out of the car.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGaby, where\u2019s your phone?\u201d
+++++<\/span>She swipes it open. \u201cOh no.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat?! What is it?\u201d
+++++<\/span>Her face is ashen. \u201cMy texts didn\u2019t go through to Chuck.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat?\u201d I reach for the phone, then notice a large black SUV approach from the opposite direction. I freeze as the car pulls up right next to us. Two men get out.
+++++<\/span>Tom opens the driver\u2019s side door and leans in.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m sorry, we\u2019re not going to your camp.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat? What are you doing?\u201d I\u2019m yelling.
+++++<\/span>Gaby screams as the doors on either side of us open and the men reach in to grab us.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou should have taken the bus.\u201d Tom winks.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

[Image Credit : Photo by Artem Goncharov<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>]<\/p>\n

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Carolyn Phillips is a fiction writer from Chicago, Illinois, US. You can read her published short stories in the Prairie Light Review, Line of Advance<\/i> and on Substack at \u2018Paper & Ink\u2019. You can also visit her on Instagram @carolynphillips.lit and Tik Tok at carolynmphillips.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

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