Lea took another gulp of her coffee as she pressed down harder onto the gas pedal of her truck. She peered outside the window to her left, there was hardly enough light left at this hour to see anything clearly but she could distinguish the vague outline of the typical corn stalks she had become accustomed to in the last sixteen hours of driving. The long, tedious journey had started early that day and she knew that she would have to stop at least once before completing her trip. But boredom was the least of her concerns, considering what she had been assigned to carry.
The longer she held down the pedal, the further she was from the only home she'd had for long enough to remember. The capital of Novamira was less crowded than some of the world's other great cities, like Moscow or London, but occasionally it had still felt overwhelming. She had been born in the East Coast but spend most of her childhood in the city of Houston, surrounded by the Southern District, which hosted the largest population of the five. There she had made friends and lived a comfortable life despite having no family. All things considered, she had a good life in Houston, at least until yesterday.
Yesterday she had received orders from the government-in-hiding of the Atlantic states to return to her native country with whatever information she had on Novamiria, and the cargo was lengthy. She had a good life in Houston, but it didn't mean anything. Not the way things were. After the conclusion of the Third World War, the North American continent was forever changed as the ravaged governments of the world made their best attempt to ensure that no nation possessed a significant advantage over another. The former United States had received its fair share of damage during the war as well, however most of the bombing was concentrated on the coasts. The largest portion of the country, what would be known as Novamiria, had turned a cold shoulder to its former allies and to democracy itself.
The border between Novamiria and the Atlantic states encompassed several hundred miles, however Lea was careful to avoid any roads leading into the Southern District, where there were more restrictions and therefore a greater chance of being caught,. Her absence had likely aroused suspicion by this point, considering the connections she had been forced to make in order to retrieve as much information as possible. One of her friends was particularly difficult to dislodge from her memory, a boy her age whom she had befriended knowing that he was the son of the Chief of Police in Houston. Novamiria was notorious for keeping secrets from other allied countries, including the Atlantic states. The two countries have had a rocky existence since they broke apart following the last World War, with more conflicts between them following in the years since. Despite their common enemies, Novamirian intelligence had been reluctant to disclose any information to the benefit of their allies.
"They didn't want to help us when the coast was invaded," Lea muttered to herself.
Her brief thought was interrupted by the sight of a fork in the road. She hadn't come across this in the map she studied and there was no way to know whether or not one would lead into the Southern District. Lea stopped and checked behind her truck to see if any cars were approaching, all the while cursing to herself. The correct road would mean a few more hours of driving until she reached the border, the wrong road could mean anything from a mild delay to capture and failure of her mission.
A growing light from several yards back began to illuminate the pitch-black surroundings, Lea went with her better judgement and took the road to the right as it was less likely to lead southward. From this point forward, the unnerving absence of cars made her increasingly anxious to the rendezvous.
Driving for nearly another hour, she stopped at a diner at the side of the road to phone her contact on the chance that she had in fact taken the wrong path. As gloomy as it sounded to her, Lea was required to meet with someone before crossing the border on the chance that she wouldn't make it herself in order to authenticate and share her information. That meant they wouldn't be travelling together.
She stepped out of her car and miraculously noticed a man loitering by the doorway who matched the hasty description issued to her by her superiors before leaving the previous day. Tall, black hair, dark coat, and he appeared to be looking directly at her. He started walking closer as she stepped out of the truck.
"Lea?" He asked abruptly.
"Yes," She resolved to keep things short with him, it wasn't good to talk too much. There was, after all, a good chance that one of them would not make it out of Novamiria.
He added, "Glad you could make it. Not everyone has had so much luck. I understand how difficult it must have been for you to bring your cargo, but I must ask you if I can see it?"
Lea was surprised, she couldn't tell if he was being literal or not. Shouldn't he have known that she was only carrying information? Now that she thought about it, the last message she had received yesterday did cut off, was she supposed to bring something?
"I'm sorry, but until the other contact is present I cannot"
He opened the door and gestured to the inside of the diner, but said nothing. Did he believe her? For a brief moment he appeared irritated.
He shuffled past the few people standing and they proceeded to sit near the corner of the building. There were hardly any people to begin with but as they neared the seat he insisted that they keep themselves out of sight. He began engaging her in a conversation over the army currently occupying the Atlantic States, adding in hints of disdain towards the Pacific States for their relative lack of activity during the war. She interpreted this as a cover, since even in Novamiria the fall of the atlantic states was a topic that easily make anyone blend in. It was all anyone could ever seem to talk about. Providing help, however, did not generate the same enthusiasm as gossip. The conversation had only lasted a few painful minutes until he asked again, "Where is it?"
She could almost feel him inching towards her. "It's in the truck, hidden," she said, knowing that the boxes in the truck were empty except for a few items meant to act as decoys.
By this point her suspicion was higher than she normally would ever have let it rise, he could very well be a member of the Novamirian secret police, but she couldn't be sure. "That's the problem with the divisions of our continent," she thought, "everyone still looks the same". At the same time she wanted to believe that the Novamirian police would not be so easy to detect. She had to find out before he tried anything.
"I have to step outside, there's a spot I need to wait so the other contact can see me"
"I'll go with you," he started.
"No, I need you to stay here, take care of the truck. It won't take long".
He managed what appeared to be a light glare as she slid out of her seat to leave; she knew he must be onto her by now. "But he still doesn't know what the cargo is".
She slowly stepped outside toward the parking lot, intending to leave him and somehow find an alternative route to the border. There was a chance there were more of them coming.
Upon reaching the parking lot only yards away, she saw what appeared to be someone violently rummaging through the contents of her truck. After the shock had worn off she barely retained a yell, remembering that whoever was sent here would certainly not let her leave. She couldn't tell if this was the same man she had just been sitting with, she was sure he couldn't possibly have gotten out here so quickly. It was too dark to see, but either way she knew she had to leave. Suddenly she began wondering how things would have turned out if she hadn't taken that road.
Lea crouched towards the front of the diner and activated her homing beacon, the same she was warned not to use unless the mission was on the verge of failure, but she didn't care anymore. She began to contemplate the ways she could be killed, knowing all of Novamiria must be on alert by now. The diner was still on Novamirian soil, but they would have no trouble calling in a platoon. Their citizens were used to the sight, they enjoyed it. Her mind filled with images of the humanoid drones being used by every major country in the war, But no, she was too unimportant to prompt that kind of strike, no Novamirian ever cared that much about an Atlantic.
Lea's thoughts were interrupted as a car swerved in front of her, she was too shocked to notice how close it was to hitting her. The side door slid open and a woman with an intense but welcoming face greeted her. "Get in".
Lea scrambled inside, still looking towards the truck just to see if there was any reason to believe that they would be followed. But of course there would be, there would always be. "You're not going to kill me, are you?" she asked.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have parked this car a few feet further than I did."
"Typical twisted Eastern humor," thought Lea. Or at least she believed so, that was their stereotype. She hadn't actually talked to an Atlantic face-to-face since before she went to Houston, over a decade ago.
"You don't look like my contact" shot back Lea, only half-caring.
"Yeah, well now he doesn't either," answered the woman coldly, "They picked him up a few miles back and I came for you myself."
She slumped in her seat, finding little reason to trust or distrust the woman next to her. She looked dejectedly into the mirror towards the shrinking diner, a reminder of the fear that her people had been forced to endure while living in this country. They could look the same as everyone else, but someone could always tell they were from the East. She finally spoke up, "Where are you taking me? This isn't the same road!"
"Plans have changed!" her rescuer yelled over the turbulent winds, "the occupation army has invaded Novamiria via the Southern District; I'm taking you to Quebec".
Lea buried her face in her palms, unable to muster an appropriate response. "Fascists! This doesn't belong in North America! We aren't used to our freedom being taken away like this!"
Her driver looked at her with a face that could almost be described as disappointment. "Lea, fascism's been in North America for a long time. We aren't used to having our freedom taken away because we never knew when we lost it". She turned away from Lea and continued driving them down the icy barren road.