A sign appeared and then flashed by—"US/Canada border 1 mile."
"Alright, the moment of truth. Put the Zeropoint unit away, would ya, Marty?" I said and then tucked my phone back in a pocket.
Marty nodded and replaced the Zeropoint in my duffel bag. If a cop looked into the cab, I didn't want to have to explain what the strange, unmarked metal box was. My Glock copy was back in the bag with the GN-75. If they searched the truck we were screwed anyway.
The border station was a small and nondescript building on the side of the road, most of the lights out. A dirty green-and-white cruiser marked with "Border Patrol" on the side was parked in the lot nearby, heavily-tinted windows hiding the interior.
I slowed down, and then we were through. Another sign went by—"Welcome to Canada."
Chapter Fifteen: Driving in Saskatchewan
AFTER CROSSING OVER into Saskatchewan, nothing really changed. The roads continued to be straight, surrounded by endless, snowy plains and the occasional stand of scrubby trees. Snow would blow across the highway occasionally, but with my vision Augment, I had no trouble seeing.
We drove on through the night. Marty fell asleep around 2 am, and I stopped for gas at a large truck stop off the highway. It was a massive, brightly lit complex of fast food restaurants and an enormous gas station with attached convenience store. At that time of night, there were a few other travelers like me and Marty, but it was mostly big trucks parked in the lot, their drivers sleeping.
I filled the truck's tank from the pump. The old beast was thirsty, and the bill was surprisingly large. Gasoline was a lot more expensive here in Canada than just across the border in North Dakota.
I thought briefly about just paying with my credit card at the pump and driving on, but that didn't seem wise. I'd bet that even a small town sheriff could get data from my credit card company. I wasn't sure what he could do with that information. I'd escaped from his custody, but what could he actually charge me with? Could he get the Canadian cops after me? Maybe. I didn't want to chance it. I have this enormous wad of cash. I might as well use it.
The bag with my guns and tools in it was in the back seat. I opened the door and pulled it out. Maybe that was a bit paranoid, but I couldn't afford to lose anything in that bag. I slung it over my shoulder and used the key fob to lock the truck.
I pushed open the doors and entered the store. A bright beeping announced my arrival to the bored teenage girl with long blue and black hair sitting behind the counter. She glanced up from her phone for a moment before returning to her important business.
I wasn't hungry. I can swear to that. Transcendent Flesh had some benefits, and one was that my metabolism was much more efficient than it used to be. My body could get more energy from what I did eat, and it could also even take some of the energy it needed directly from my Zeropoint Energy Augment. All of that to explain that I'm not sure what overcame me.
My stomach rumbled as I was presented with the vast variety of junk food just inside the front doors. Sweet and salty treats, both familiar and strange. Although culturally we are very close, the Canadians have some stuff we don't. They were calling to me. The only thing I'd had with flavor in weeks was the coffee I'd had at Theo's house, and that had nearly overwhelmed me.
The teenager glanced up from her phone again, watching bemusedly as I loaded up a small blue plastic basket with a random assortment of sweets. Chocolate bars, gummy candy, licorice. A delicious looking chocolate and cream cake called a Jos Louis. Anything that caught my fancy. After that, it was salty. Pretzels, potato chips, tortilla chips. Finally, I raided the cooler for a selection of sweet, fizzy drinks and fruit juice. I briefly paused in front of the cold beer section, but I felt no urge to get drunk so I passed it by.
I set the basket carefully on the counter in front of her, conscious of how much I had overloaded it.
"Hungry?" she asked and began to unload it, running each item through her scanner. Now up close, I noticed her nametag said she was Zalene. She had a small diamond stud in her left nostril to go with the rebel hairstyle.
"Sure," I said. "The gas on pump two as well, please."
She added it in without comment. The total was $176, which seemed like a lot to me. That feeling went away when I reached into my zippered pocket to pull the top two hundred dollar bills off the fat wad I had in there. It's not like I wasn't stinking rich now.
"American money fine?" I asked.
She nodded, pointing to the sign on the counter that said they accepted US currency at par with Canadian. I couldn't be bothered to complain about the obvious ripoff and handed over the bills. Zalene ran them through their counterfeit detection machine and handed me change in colorful Canadian notes and chunky gold and silver coins. It felt like I should have a coin pouch. I made do with a pocket.
The two plastic bags I left the store with I set on the seat beside the still-asleep Marty. Once I'd returned my bag of guns to the back seat, I started the truck and got back on the road.
I drove north on the dark and deserted highways of Saskatchewan. The sky in the east gradually lightened and I entertained myself by sampling from my bag of treats. I didn't—couldn't—eat like I'd used to. I'd take a piece of something and put it in my mouth, experiencing the flavors as if they were completely new to me. Food had been my
