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The Crossing
by David Frankel
EXCERPT
… As soon as I arrive, I sense something isn’t right. I feel watched, as though someone is hiding out there beneath the trees where the winter sunlight doesn’t reach. I pause and hold my breath, scanning the treeline. The lights of the guard station look out across the no man’s land of the crossing. Snowflakes swirl under the floodlights above the road. I can’t see anything amiss, but I feel unsettled. The otherworldliness of returning to the border after my sojourn in the real world is disorientating. It could just be fatigue. It’s been a tough few days, seeing Lizzie still so ill and having to leave her with my mother to come back here. She understood, but all the same…
It’s a relief to know Harold and Gustavo are inside. There’s no way they’ll be out walking the fence in this weather, orders or not. There are nine of us in the unit, split into three shifts. I take a moment to gather myself before I go in. I’ve known these men for years, but I have to force myself to turn the door handle. I can’t muster the enthusiasm to shout a greeting when I enter, so rather than make a fuss, I stamp the snow from my boots and slam the door behind me to announce my arrival. The hut is only heated by an old stove, but after the biting wind outside, it feels tropical. I wave to Gus and Harold.
‘Welcome back. How’s Lizzy?’
‘She’s doing better, thanks.’
‘Still in hospital?’
‘With my mother now. Not sure who’s going to win that one.’
‘Sounds like you’re better off up here.’
‘That’s why I came back.’
‘Don’t drop snow everywhere, you wanker, it’s miserable enough in here.’
‘Sorry. The transport dropped me at the end of the road. I had to walk. It’s really coming down out there now.’
Harold kicks a chair towards the stove for me and hands me a hip flask. ‘Here. Keep the cold out. Cheers.’
I thank him, but I don’t sit down. If you sit you might get comfortable or, God forbid, get warm, and then it’s almost impossible to get going again, especially if you have to go out and walk the fence. Instead, I perch on a stool in front of the window — a horizontal slot that extends the full width of the cabin — and wipe the condensation from the glass so I can see out.
‘Any action since I left?’
‘Nothing. Too cold.’
We catch up. I tell them about Lizzy and we share the sugared almonds my mother gave me. It’s nearly dark and we’ve had almost a full pan of coffee when I see movement beyond the fences: a shadow flitting between trees. I hold my breath and reach for the binoculars. I feel Gustavo move up behind me.
‘What’s the matter? You see something?’
‘Yes. No. Maybe…’ …
… The complete story appears as a standalone book in our Little Uncertainties series.
David Frankel
David Frankel’s short stories have been shortlisted in numerous competitions including The Commonwealth Prize, The Bristol Prize, The Bridport Prize, The Society of Authors’ ALCS Tom-Gallon Trust Award, and the Fish Memoir Prize.
