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“How do we look?” Arthur asked. “Like a couple of dairy farmers?”
“I don’t know a lot of dairy farmers, but I’d say yes,” Mabel said.
Shyly, Mabel removed her sweater and cap, and Arthur wrapped all of their old clothes around a rock and sank them in the river. He climbed into the driver’s side; Gloria, the passenger side. Mabel clambered onto the truck’s long bed, clinking past the crates of milk bottles they’d planted to back up their story. Then they waited for Aron and Luis. Over the percolator hum of the truck’s motor, Mabel could hear the distant shouting. An eerie orange glow lit up the sky. Smoke poured through the trees like a St. Walpurgis Night festival. Already, the fire was burning toward the road. They could even feel some of the heat where they were. Mabel raised the binoculars. Guards were running about. Some of the militiamen had joined them. They grabbed buckets of sand and water for the fire. Even some of the striking workers had joined in to help. Still there was no sign of Aron and Luis. Where were they? Mabel thought she’d scream from nerves.
“It’s been five minutes. We should go,” Gloria cautioned from the front seat.
“We can’t just leave them!” Mabel cried.
“That was the plan. We all agreed. They knew the risks,” Gloria said.
“Just one more minute,” Mabel pleaded.
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Arthur looked from Gloria to Mabel and back out at the eerie backlit trees.
“Arthur… !” Gloria warned.
“Just another minute,” he said.
“It’s too hot. They might close the road!” Gloria said. “We’ll get caught if we d—”
The slap-slap-slap of three quick rifle shots pierced the night, making Mabel jump.
“What was that?” Gloria whispered.
Two more shots rang out. With shaking hands, Mabel raised the binoculars. She could see the militiamen running for their trucks.
“Mabel?” Arthur.
“They’re getting into their trucks.” Her heart felt as if it would burst from fear. “They’re on the move.”
“That’s it. We can’t wait another second,” Arthur said.
Mabel held on tightly as Arthur shifted the truck onto the old dirt road. She wanted to cry, but she was too frightened for tears. She kept the binoculars pressed against her eyes, searching for any sign of Luis and Aron.
“Come on, come on,” she whispered prayerfully.
Gloria leaned out her window, angling her face toward the back. “Mabel! What are you doing? Lie down under the tarp this instant!”
“I haven’t given up yet,” Mabel said.
“You’re going to get us arrested—or killed!”
Shapes darted between the dark trees. For all Mabel knew, it could be militiamen coming for them. Her heart beat so fast it felt as if it would burst. She squinted hard against the plumes of irritating smoke blowing toward them, and then she was smacking her palm against the side of Arthur’s door. Aron and Luis were racing after the moving truck.
“There they are! I see them!” she cried.
Arthur jerked to a stop, keeping the motor running, and Mabel crawled to the back and helped haul her exhausted friends onto the truck bed. Aron and Luis sprawled onto their backs, gasping for breath.
“Thanks for… waiting,” Luis managed between fits of coughing.
“It was Mabel who spotted you,” Arthur said over the motor’s hum.
“Ah, Mabel Rose, you are true to your name and just as sweet,” Luis said on scant breath.
Aron grinned. “We did it! Those bastards won’t be making money off scab labor anymore.”
“We’re not safe yet,” Arthur warned. “Stay quiet and hidden.”
