"That long." She snuck a quick look at him, mainly to gauge his reaction, but instead saw how weary and exhausted her was. "You need to sleep. We'll be at the border by mid-morning."

He gave her hand another squeeze before curling up as best he could in the passenger seat. He was very grateful that Gibson was asleep as his sleep-deprived brain conjured up images and thoughts he didn't particularly want to share with anyone.

Monica drove on into the night, feeling triumphant. They had managed to get this far with relatively few complications. She was bringing the man she loved home to meet her mother. And then they would settled down, his words, somewhere, with this young man, and live like they were a family. She touched her fake ring, more pleased than anything at the green line that had been worn onto her skin already.

Gibson arose again in the early morning and they pulled over at a rest stop to get ready for the morning. They were in New Mexico and it would only be a matter of hours before they hit Sierra Vista in Arizona. Monica slept the next few hours in the backseat so that they would all be as rested as possible before attempting a crossing.

They discussed logistics over their breakfast of granola bars and bananas. This was the one place where they knew they'd leave a record. Two cameras were involved – one that would photograph their car and license plate and another than would take a picture of their faces. They didn't know at the moment if the border guards would have been notified of their presence. They just hoped that all attention had been diverted to finding them in Canada. As it was, they would trade the car in for another as soon as they could, preferably at the seediest car dealership they could find. John knew his way around engines and Gibson would be able to help with price negotiations.

"How much do we have in the way of money?" asked Monica for the first time. "I have about $10,000."

"Fourty-three thousand dollars," answered John calmly.

"Wait. How were you ever able to get so much cash without their noticing?"

"I've seen this coming for a long time. Not Gibson in particular, but the conspiracy in general making life a little … difficult."

She was surprised. She didn't see him as that kind of man, one who would allow for paranoia or the thought of fleeing in response to pressure from the bad guys.

"You didn't think I'd do something like that, did you?" he asked with a grin. "Even I have to pay attention to the writing on the wall."

"I still have $8,000 from helping Ricky," added Gibson. They both looked at him with amazement.

"When were you planning on telling us about that?"

"John…" warned Monica.

"I'm not mad at you. Just, we need to know these things."

Gibson didn't feel like speaking.

"He's trying to help," added Monica, coming to Gibson's defense. "I think we should just leave it. He earned that money and if anything happens to us, he should have something to fall back on. He didn't need to tell us at all."

John grumbled to himself, but dropped the subject. They discussed how they were going to smuggle in the cash and guns safely. Money was hidden on bodies, inside the seams of their bags, and in the frame of the car, as well as inside the seats of the car along with the two guns. John worked like a professional and within an hour they were back on the road.

It was just after noon when they came in sight of the border crossing. Their tension was palpable. They checked their new passports – they were Bill and Karen Jameson, their son was listed as Thomas Henry, and Gibson insisted he be referred to as Thomas.

"Just play it casual," instructed John. "Don't do anything over the top, but don't sit their like statues. We just all need to look like we've been on a great road trip and we're really looking forward to finally getting to see Mexico. Our driver's licenses say we're from Northern California, so we should say we stopped in Albuquerque to visit your parents. We're going to the coast first, maybe Porta Viarta. Then down to see… I dunno… how about those Mayan ruins? And Gibson, the first hint of trouble, you let us know immediately. If you can tell from the guards that they are looking for us, say something. I'll get us out of it somehow." Gibson could see the scenario in John's head… Monica being left at the wheel in line for the border, John taking him by the wrist in search of a bathroom, and then making a run for cover and trying a crossing at night on foot. "Monica, if anything happens, we need to have a meeting point in Mexico. You name it, we'll all meet there if separated."

She chose a town about thirty miles from the border and told him to just find the largest church there, and she would meet him in the pews.

"We're going to need to buy tourist cards when we get there and fill them out. They don't cost much at all. We will also need proof of ownership of the car, but Ricky did put your Bill Jameson pseudonym on the title, right?"

"And Gibson," she started to say.

"Thomas."

"Thomas, you should sit in the back and look as disinterested as possible. I think that such behavior from a teen would not raise any flags. Play your game. Try to stay out of sight if you can."

"Don't make eye contact, got it."

"And if you realize that anything is wrong,"

"I tell you immediately."

"So are we ready?" she asked.

"I think we are."

"Alright, let's do this." She giggled. "I almost feel like we should do some sort of huddle and a 'Go team!' cheer." Gibson looked up at her with a blank expression. John smiled and said in a soft voice, "Go team," to make her happy, which it did.

Their anxiety was the worse part about the crossing. They chose to go through Heroica Nogales. They drove up to the tourist office and purchased their cards. They shuffled into the line of cars waiting to cross. It was two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so there was not a lot of traffic to deal with.

Monica kept looking back at him with a pleasant look on her face, but he knew she was nervous. He was busy trying to get through all the minds that stood between him and the guards. There was one. ID. Check. Looks fine. I need to pee. The man thought in Spanish, which was making it trickier, but Gibson could read enough of the emotions in his words to transcend the language barrier. Still, he could find nothing useful in the guards head.

Another one seemed slightly more of a problem. He was very focused on looking for suspicious behavior and seemed to want to make some kind of bust. He was glad that they were not in that line. Finally he managed to lock onto the thoughts of the guard in their line. He laughed as the man checked out the women coming through for inspection. He was particularly focused on searching for cars with single, attractive women in them. For some reason he seemed to think he had a chance at picking one of them up. He'd never managed that before though.

"They're all fine. No one seems to be looking for us." No sooner had he said that then he picked up something else. There was a man, a human, nearby, probably in a control room with TVs. He seemed very interested in examining the video footage of people coming across the border. He was looking for them. He had their pictures in front of him. Gibson closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could, practically putting his mind into the man's. He could almost see what he saw. Then, the man took note of the time on the video. He was reviewing tapes from the day before. He was hungry and tired and had another three hours of tapes to go through just to catch up to today. They would be safe for a little while longer. Still, it was not a preferable situation. And all it would take was one moment for him to turn around and look at the live monitors behind him and catch sight of them.

"There's a man. Looking at videos of yesterday's border crossing. But he's in the same room as the live feed. He's looking for us. But he's bored and doesn't think that he's going to find us."

"So we're safe for a little while, unless he sees us on the camera when we get up there?"

"Mmhm."

"We need to get you in a position that would look natural but would also keep you out of sight. Can you tell where the cameras are? Can you figure out any blind spots?" asked Monica.

"Well, it's a good think I haven't shaved in four days. Still, wish I could stick down my ears." John pushed back his hair, as if that would suddenly make it lie flat.

"It'll be fine. I have faith that we'll get through this. But I really wish one of us was telekinetic and could make the camera short circuit."

Gibson kept focused on the man in the control room, only moving his fingers across the gamepad for effect. He moved to the seat behind Monica, putting his head almost directly behind hers and slouching into his game with great intensity. And then he tried his best to send a signal to the man to get up and leave.

It almost never worked. He was rather surprised when Monica almost seemed to hear him at Ricky's. Get up and walk. Get up and walk. You need a break. Rest your brain. Get up and walk. Get out of the room and grab a drink. You need to get out of the room.

The car in front of them moved into the lane and was given a random red light, meaning that they needed to pull over. It was a minor relief, for it meant that they were less likely to get pulled over for inspection. Just as the car was put into drive, the man in the tower felt his leg twitch and his eyes lose focus. He needed to get out of the room and away from useless video footage.

"He's gone!" Gibson said, nearly squealing in his hushed whisper. "He's heading towards the vending machine."

They quickly suppressed their wave of relief and turned it into smiles for the guard, except for Gibson who still hovered over his game.

The guard took their IDs and Thomas' passport. "Purpose of your trip?"

"We are headed to the coast for a week. Just had to get out of the mountains. Do some shopping too." She hoped she sounded like every other vacationer he'd dealt with during the day.

He handed them back their IDs. "Have a nice trip."

They got their green light and drove through. Within a minute, Monica let out a shriek of pure joy and John couldn't help but laugh heartily with relief. Even Gibson allowed a secret smile to cross his lips. If they hadn't been driving, John knew he would have pulled her in for a celebratory kiss. Instead, there wasn't much he could do but keep flashing her his most appreciative smile, which she readily exchanged for her own.

They were safe. For now. Within two days, they would be in Mexico City.