Erik - Chapter 33

I did not even know where I was going or how to get to my destination but I felt I would be safe from Erik if I followed the pilgrims' way, the old Santiago de Compostela pilgrim route from Tours to Bordeaux, and then south-east from Bordeaux to Lourdes, where I hoped to find sanctuary.  Unfortunately, I found Lourdes to be closed on orders from Rome itself, so I decided to head east and south, going further into the Pyrenees.
The trek into the Pyrenees, as bad as it was, was not nearly as arduous as my trip back to Paris had been, perhaps because I was better prepared this time.  I had used most of my last paycheck from the opera house to buy the gear I needed for this trip which included a large rain poncho which could double as a shelter if necessary, as well as a sturdy pair of hiking boots, a backpack large enough to haul the rest of my things which were what every smart hiker should have on him-a Swiss army knife, dried food, a canteen for water, water purification tablets, a first-aid kit, as well as warm clothing like socks, a sweater, and warm gloves, all of which I would need, along with my bedroll.

All in all, I must have looked quite strange walking along the narrow mountain roads, carrying all of this on my back and using a long stick I had found in some woods by the road as my walking stick.  However, no one said anything as I made my way from village to village.  I also brought a few francs I had managed to save, just in case I needed some more food or to replenish my first-aid kit.  Even though no one said anything as I passed through, I did notice that, whenever I entered a village and some local engaged me in conversation, they often asked me where I was from, but I always replied that I was from Paris, and that seemed to satisfy them.  It was not until I got to Lourdes, that I heard that President R. was having the French authorities round up and deport all Americans back to the States, more than likely to be incarcerated in the prison camps she was building in the heartland of America itself.

Learning that news only brought back memories of the kindness I had experienced from most of the French I had thus far met.  I remembered the kindness of the Fontaines and felt guilty for only sending a letter to them asking them to hold my things until I sent for them.  I also felt guilty that I had only stopped by the Petrovics before leaving Paris to thank them once again for the kindness that they had shown me by taking me in for the night.  Both families had been extremely kind to me and I could only hope that they would not be penalized by the authorities for showing me kindness.  I also hoped that those drivers who had picked me up, both on the way from the Bocage to Paris as well as on the journey I was currently on would also not be penalized.  Between hitchhiking and walking, I found myself in the city of Bordeaux a few days later, and while I would have liked to have stayed, I kept moving on, making my way south and east, compelled by the feeling that I would find sanctuary at Lourdes.  This feeling was not unlike the one I had when I first got to France, over a year earlier, when President R. had first expelled all pro-life people from the States.  It hardly seemed like a year had passed since I had first come to the country, and during that year, I had managed to find a job and was in the process of rebuilding my life in spite of the fact that I had no friends or job when I had first entered the country.  And yet, with one signature, all that had ended, and I found myself in limbo once again, hoping to rebuild my life at the next destination.

I continued my sojourn by walking from Bordeaux to Lourdes, and when I was about fifty kilometers from Lourdes, I hitched a ride with a lovely elderly couple from Scotland.  I have always enjoyed listening to Scots talk with the lovely lilt and burr of their accent, and this couple was no exception.  They were on their way to the shrine at Lourdes, and asked me to join them on their pilgrimage.  I accepted their offer, and like them, looked forward  to seeing the shrine.  Unfortunately, like them, I was very disappointed to find that the shrine was closed on orders of the Vatican itself.  "Now what kind of pope would do such a thing, Mildred?" Donald MacKensie asked his wife as we reached the town and saw the notice on the gate to the shrine.

"Maybe it wasn't the pope.  The cardinal of Milan still has a lot of influence even though he lost the election to the Nigerian cardinal," I replied softly.

"Think so?  I hope you're right, lass!" Mr. MacKensie replied sadly, shaking his head.  Then, turning to his wife, he added, "What do you want to do now?"

"Could we stay here for a few days and maybe take some pictures?  I really don't want to go back to Scotland without something from our...trip.  With the shrine closed, I really can't call it a pilgrimage, now can I?" she replied, and then turning to me, she added, "And will you be staying with us a wee bit?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, I guess I'll be moving on."

"And to where?  There's naught but rocks and hills around, and if Lourdes is closed, all the other shrines will be, too!" Mr. MacKensie exclaimed.  I only shrugged my shoulders as he added, "Well, we should probably find a room at a hotel here in town.  I just hope we can find a room at this hour, for it's nearly half past six!  You'll be staying here in town as well, won't you lass?  You could at least stay with us!"

I shook my head again and said, "No, I really think I should move on."

"Are ye daft, woman?  At this hour?  Why, it'll be dark soon!  Ye should at least stay the night here so ye can get a good night's sleep before ye start out again," he replied.  I shook my head again, and he added, "You Yanks are all alike-too stubborn to know what's good for you!"

"Donald!  We're on pilgrimage, remember?  If she wants to go, that's her choice!" Mrs. MacKensie exclaimed, and then, turning to me, she asked, "Are ye sure ye won't be going with us?" I nodded, and then she added, "Well, Godspeed then, lass.  Our prayers will be with ye."  Then, turning to her husband, she said, "Come on, Donald.  We should go back to town to get a room for the night before everything closes up."  We then went our separate ways, the MacKensies to the downtown area of Lourdes, and myself to the east edge of town where I followed the road that led first east and then south, deeper into the Pyranees.

I really had no idea where I wanted to go, only that I wanted to find a safe place for solitude, as far from Paris as possible.  After stopping to buy a map of the Pyrenees region at a village not far from Lourdes, I finally decided to go to the Bethmale valley, which lay to the south and east.  I continued my journey mostly on foot, getting rides whenever I could, and in a few days, found myself in a wide valley, not unlike one finds in the Rocky Mountain region of America.  This valley had several small hamlets and farms scattered on its steep slopes, and in the middle of this valley which stretched from Audressein in the north to the Lac de Bethmale in the south, was the village of Ayet, which was more noted for its church than anything else.  On the eastern edge of the valley was the Col de la Core, a mountain pass which led to the Esbints valley, which was more heavily wooded and seemed more likely to offer sanctuary than the broader Bethmale valley did, and also, the Esbints valley was closer to a larger village, the village of Seix.

While I was walking along the narrow road, just on the other side of the pass of la Core, I noticed a small, dilapidated shed, several meters from the road, nearly hidden among the large trees and rocks.  Tired and foot-sore, I decided to see if I could rest there for the night.  I left the road, and cautiously approached the small structure and called out softly, "Allo!  Allo!  Est-ce-que quelqu'un ici? (Hello!  Is anyone here?)"  Seeing that it was quite deserted, I cautiously opened the door, only to find that it could barely open due to the poor condition of its hinges.  I looked into the doorway and could see nothing but darkness inside the small structure.  I then carefully stepped inside and walked around, hoping that I would not step on any mice or snakes.

After I finished walking around, I stopped and took off my backpack and bedroll, and then took out my small flashlight that I had thought to buy along with the rest of my supplies.  After switching it on, I shone it around the inside of the shed to get a better look at my surroundings.  The building was quite small, perhaps no larger than one meter wide and two meters long and looked to be made of pine.  The boards were all quite weathered, and in fact, the boards on the north side of the shed were actually rotted.  It really did not look like an inviting place to spend the night but it was already getting dark and from the appearance of the clouds in the sky to the east, it looked like it would soon start to rain.  I decided to take my chances and spend the night in that old shack, and resume my journey the next day.

I was right to be concerned about the shack as well as the weather.  Shortly after I had settled in for the night, the storm, which had been building for several hours finally broke, with a torrent of rain and severe winds lashing the mountain pass.  The small shack I was in was not able to escape the storm undamaged.  The entire north side of the shack as well as the part of the roof on that end collapsed.  Fortunately, I was unhurt but was badly frightened, for I felt that the structure would withstand the storm.

At the first light of dawn, I made my decision to leave the shack and look for shelter elsewhere.  I had thought of going to the next village to buy some lumber to repair the shack but, after examining the wood on the other three sides still standing, I felt the structure was not worth the trouble because all the wood was too weathered and indeed, the whole structure was too far gone to be saved.  Besides, I had only a few francs left and those would have to last me until I finally reached my destination.

I continued east along the road until it turned south and led me through yet another farming area.  I kept an eye out for shelter of any kind and was about to give up my quest when I came across a small barn-like structure made of wood and stone, nearly hidden by the surrounding rocks and trees near it.  It lay just west of the road I was on and was situated on the side of a steep cliff overlooking a small mountain stream.  I left the road and picked my way through the rocks in order to take a closer look at it.  I hoped to find it in better condition than the old wood shack and was pleased to find that it was built more solidly than the wooden structure had been.  The barn had two more advantages as well.  It was near a mountain stream and was situated at a point where I could see both the road and the valley but would not be seen readily from the road.  Also, the structure which I soon named "the stone barn" was near the village of Couflens, and therefore I would have a place to buy more supplies, and if Couflens did not have what I would need, I could always go down the road to the village of Seix, which was quite a bit larger and would probably have what little I might need to survive the coming winter.

I was concerned about the coming winter because the weather had turned much worse.  Indeed, the area was experiencing an early winter, for the first snow had already fallen by the time I reached the area around Couflens.  I was glad that I had made my quilts as well as packed warm clothing in my backpack, for many a morning I would awake to find frost on the floor next to the door, not far from where I had slept the night before, and also, there was often a thin sheet of ice on the banks of the stream where I went to get my water.  Finally, one morning I awoke to find a thin coating of snow on my sleeping bag.  Even though I had gone to bed the night before fully dressed, I shivered as I ate the last of my granola bars for breakfast.  Rummaging through my backpack, I discovered that I was down to the last of my food supplies and I realized that I would have to go to Seix to buy more food.  I also realized that I would have to write to the Fontaines to ask them to send me my things, which meant that I would have to rent a post box at the post office, at least for a couple of months in order to give the Fontaines time and a place to send my things.  So, early in the morning of the middle of September, I set off on the road to Seix.  Even though the road ran downhill and there was almost no traffic, I found the going rough, for not only was the road narrow but it had several patches of black ice on it, especially in the large areas of shade.  In addition, there were no guard rails on the west side of the road, which I felt was dangerous due to the steep cliffs that dropped off on that side of the road.

All in all, it took me nearly all morning to get to Seix, even though the distance was less than five kilometers, and I barely had enough time to buy flour, rolled oats, sugar and some raisins before the epicerie closed at noon.  It was a good thing I had brought something to eat for lunch, for I had to wait for over an hour before the post office opened so I could mail my letter and rent a post box.  After I had finished my errand at the post office, I went to the local hardware store and bought a gardening trowel and the largest aluminum bowl that the store had in stock.  I needed the trowel to dig a small hole to serve as my latrine and I needed the bowl to  serve as my wash basin.  I managed to stuff these items into my backpack along with the rest of my things and then made my way back to the place I would call home before it got dark.

The next several weeks passed very quickly.  The Fontaines were kind enough to send me all of the things I had left in Paris but I found myself going to Seix at least once a week to pick up the boxes of my things.  I had no idea that I had accumulated so much stuff while I was there, so I often found myself partially unpacking the boxes as they came and putting what I could into my backpack, and then carrying the rest in the box all the way back to my new place.  Fortunately, most of the boxes held the scraps of material which made the loads somewhat lighter but no less bulkier.  I spent the rest of the time sewing more quilt tops by hand.  I had hoped to sew all of the scraps into quilt tops before it got too cold to work on them.  Unfortunately, by the middle of November, it had gotten too cold to work on them, and to make things worse, the days were too short and too stormy to get much done, so I made do with what I had by using the finished tops as extra blankets.  One morning I awoke to find that I was again low on food supplies.  Depressed because of this as well as the stormy weather, I turned in early that night but was unable to get much sleep because I was worried about my situation, for I was also down to my last few francs and therefore had very little money left to buy food.  I finally dropped off to sleep just before dawn, only to be rudely awakened a few moments later by a hand put to my mouth and a familiar voice commanding, "Don't make a sound!  Get up, grab some clothes and put these on, and follow me now!"

I did as the voice commanded, and followed the dark figure out of the stone barn, over the rocks, across the road and up the steep incline into the rocky and heavily wooded terrain.  After going behind a large boulder, the dark figure stopped.  "What's going on?" I demanded.  The figure said nothing as he grabbed my right hand and pulled me down beside him as he then crouched, and thus forcing me to do the same.  Then he pointed in the direction of the barn.  Through the dim but growing light from the rising sun, I saw a group of armed soldiers break down the door to the barn and then enter the structure.  They emerged a few minutes later with much swearing in English.  Then they set fire to the place, and then scattered for a moment before regrouping to the north of the barn.

I gasped and then the figure said, "I believe that's our cue, my dear.  It's time we left as well.  Follow me!"
"After what you've done?  What makes you think I'll follow you anywhere, Erik?" I hissed.

Grabbing me by my left arm as he walked behind me, he snarled, "Maybe you'd like to take your chances with the soldiers!  Do you know what they'll do to you if they find you?"  I sighed and nodded my head.  He then added, "Well then-do you want to find safety with me or go with them?  Did you really think I would let you down, especially at a time like this?  Now, come and change into these.  We don't have any time to lose!"

And so, after changing into the set of BDUS he offered me and stuffing what I had on into his backpack, we spent the next several hours making our way east and then south before turning west, and in our circular path, we completely avoided the village of Couflens as well as the road leading to the Col de Pause, but just as we came to the top of the pass, we came to another road which was in very poor condition.  "Where are we?" I asked as I panted, for Erik had kept us going at a fast pace and I was unused to his pace as well as the altitude.

"About five or six kilometers from Port d'Aula and the Spanish border, if we take this route.  It's rutted and has some icy spots, but it will serve our purpose.  Besides, I doubt the soldiers will take this road-it's in too poor a shape and I don't think they have the jeeps they would need in order to take it," Erik answered in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"We're going to Spain?" I asked.

Erik shook his head and said, "I didn't say that.  I merely said that we were close to the Spanish border.  Now, I suggest we get going.  It will be dark soon and besides, I'd just as soon put as much distance between us and the soldiers as possible."  I nodded, and for the next few hours until it got too dark to travel, we wound our way south and west to the pass dividing France from Spain.

Erik was not joking about the condition of the road.  In addition to the steep grade and deep ruts, there were patches of black ice and even some snow drifts on the sides of the road.  We continued to struggle on in the darkness after the sun set, but after awhile, Erik stopped and softly said, "I think we will have to stop here for a few hours.  I was hoping we could make it to the frontier, but...wait...listen!"  I stopped and looked up into the dark sky.  After a moment, Erik muttered, "Helicopters!" and then added, "Quick-into the brush and watch where you step!  We don't want to leave any tracks if we can help it!"  I followed him as he made his way over the side of the road and down the steep embankment.  We finally stopped when we came to some short trees and underbrush.  Erik squeezed his way under the low branches and motioned for me to follow.  Just as I made my way in, I could hear the helicopter fly over us and I also saw the beam of a search light shining down onto the road and the area we had just left.  I gasped softly and shook my head as Erik asked in a soft voice, "What?"
Still shaking my head, I whispered, "Black helicopters!  I always thought they were a figment of the imagination of the vast right-wing conspiracy!"

"Your president doesn't give up, does she?" Erik replied.

"Why me?  I'm only one person!" I whispered.

"Because of what you represent.  You're a faithful Catholic, you live the pro-life message, you're a good person, if not a saint, and she can't stand that.  If all Americans followed your example and had voted in the last election, she never would have been elected, and she knows that.  That's why she has to make an example of you," he said quietly, and then added, "Since we'll be here awhile, I suggest we get some rest.  There's no telling how long we'll be here."

"Think they'll find us?" I asked, in a nervous tone of voice.

"Not unless they have infrared equipment.  The brush is pretty thick here and if we stay where we're at, they'll be unlikely to find us," he replied quietly.

"Think they have it?" I asked, even more nervous.

"Infrared equipment?  I don't think so.  If they did, they wouldn't be shining the spotlight as long as they have.  However, that doesn't mean they couldn't get some in the next few hours.  We'll stay here until the helicopter leaves, and then we'll leave as well.  Rest now, for you'll need all the energy you can muster when we leave," Erik replied in a soothing tone of voice as he put his left arm around me and gently pulled me toward him, and then after putting my head on his shoulder, I dozed off to sleep, exhausted from the day's events.  As I dozed off to sleep, all I could think of was-Erik, I don't understand you!  Three months ago, you wanted to kill me, and now you're risking your life to save me!  Is this your way of making amends?  After what seemed like only a few short moments, Erik gently nudged me and softly said, "Wake up, sleeping beauty!  Our 'guest' has finally left and now it's time for us to leave as well."  He slowly crawled out of the opposite side of the bush and then held out his right hand to help me out as well.  I could barely make him out in the deep gloom, but did manage to follow him as we made our way back to the rutted road, and then continue on our way to the border.

As we made our way to the top of the pass, I noticed a small building on the right side of the road.  Erik quickly stopped and said in a commanding tone of voice, "Take your cap off and put your hair up.  We need to have you look like a soldier."  I did as he told me by first taking off my BDU cap, then twisting my long hair and putting it into a bun on the top of my head, and then placing the cap back on my head.  "Very good, Fidelio.  Now, follow me and allow me to do the talking," Erik added as he first matched his footsteps to my walking pace, and then taking the lead, he walked up to the French soldiers at the border crossing at the top of the pass.  After explaining to the guard that we were looking for an escaped American expatriate, and asking for permission to cross into Spain without the usual papers, we were waved through the border crossing by the guards on duty.

After we crossed the border and were at a safe distance from the guard shack, I took off my cap and asked, "How did you manage that?"

"Let's just say that when I pulled the guy to the side, I...gave a compelling reason as to why we were looking for Roberta Martin," Erik replied as he slowed his pace for a moment.

"What did you say to him?" I asked, genuinely curious as to what Erik could have said in order to allow us to cross the border so freely.

"I didn't say very much.  I only took off my burn mask and after I showed my face to the guard, I claimed that Roberta had re-arranged my face before she escaped from an internment camp back in the States, and he believed my story!  I also added that more soldiers would be by shortly and that they would back up my story.  Now, of course you had nothing to do with my face, but I fear that more of your American soldiers will follow us and I can only hope that they don't get here until the guards have their shift change, which will only be in a couple of hours, so I suggest that we keep moving until we're deeper into Spain," he replied as he picked up his pace and we moved more deeply into the Spanish side of the Pyrenees.

Finally, after skirting yet another valley to our west and a village to our south, Erik led us to a picturesque park near a lake, where we rested until dawn.  Just as the sun rose, Erik stirred from where he lay, and after a moment, took a map out of his backpack.  He studied it in silence for a few moments before frowning.  "What's the matter?  Aren't we in Spain yet?" I asked, as I slowly sat up.

Erik nodded.  "We're in Spain all right, but we're not as far west as I hoped we would be, so we're going to have a much longer journey than I had originally planned," he said thoughtfully as he continued to study the map.  Then he added, "My dear, I hate to do this to you, but I will have to ask you to stay here in this park until I return.  If you see anyone coming this way, don't hesitate to go into the brush."

"Why?  Where are you going?" I asked, still trying to get my bearings.

"There's a village not far from here where I can pick up some supplies and change my francs into Euros, but I want you to stay here and stay out of sight until I return.  I won't be gone long, I promise," he replied as he rose from where he was reclining.  I watched him as he picked up his backpack and then made his way to the road that ran first north and then west from the lake.  In a way I was angry with him for leaving me alone in a strange country and at an isolated location, and yet, I could see his point.  In France, we were both wanted by the authorities, but here in Spain, the authorities might only want me so it was prudent that I stay behind and out of sight.  Besides, where would I go?  Erik knew I knew no Spanish and he had taken the only map we had with him.  Besides, he knew that I would be smart enough to go into the wooded area just east and south of the lake if I saw anybody coming my way.