BOUND TO THE OTHER SIDE

Chapter 2

By eight the next morning, Diane had already begun to suspect that volunteering had been a mistake. The research vehicle had been climbing steadily through hills that seemed to become less inhabited with every bend. The last petrol station had disappeared behind them nearly an hour ago. Houses had thinned into farms, farms into scattered buildings, and then even those had vanished. Now there were only mountains, trees and a road that appeared not to have been repaired in... well, ever.

The vehicle hit another pothole.

Diane grabbed the door for support, tired of being tossed and lurched about.

“Sorry,” the driver said.

“You didn't put the hole there.” She gave him a tight smile. She knew he wasn't to blame for the terrible road.

His name was Peter, and so far Diane had learned a few things about him. He'd spent some time in the military before joining the Field Research Office five years ago, had four daughters, and seemed to have very little regard for speed limits. She tightened her grip on her mug as, outside, mist clung to the hills.

It was beautiful, she had to admit. The sort of landscape that made a person understand why someone might have built a settlement here despite the cold. Forest crowded the slopes in great dark masses, interrupted occasionally by stretches of open grassland silvered with frost. Diane took out her phone. One bar. She took a picture of the view through the window and sent it to the family group.

Still alive.

Her mother responded almost immediately.

Call me.

Diane stared at the message.

Of course.

She pressed call.

“Hello?”

“You have signal.”

“Good morning to you too, Mum.”

“Where are you?”

“Good question.”

“Diane.”

She smiled and looked out of the window. “I'm in the car.”

Her mother gave a small, long-suffering sigh. “I gathered that, but where exactly?" Diane looked out of the window. “We passed the last sign miles ago, so I honestly couldn't tell you. We're still a few hours from the camp. Dunley is somewhere along the way.”

“And after Dunley you lose signal?” her mum asked for the hundredth time, still uncomfortable with the idea. Diane looked at the single bar on her phone. “Allegedly.”

“You already have almost no signal.”

“I know mum, I have one bar.” She smiled. “Don’t worry I’ll be able to check in once a week, so you’ll know I am fine”

“Once a week.”

It wasn't a question.

“We discussed this.”

“You discussed it. I objected.”

Diane smiled. “How's Dad?” There was a pause. “Don't change the subject.” Her mum knew her well. “I'm not changing the subject. I'm asking about my father.”

“Your father is fine. He asked me twice whether you'd called yet.” She already missed her father. “Tell him I called.”

“You can tell him yourself.”

“Put me on speaker.”

“He's outside.”

“Then tell him I love him.”

“I will.”

Diane settled back into her seat. “And I'll call when I can, Mum. I promise.”

Her mother's voice softened. “I know.”

“And Mum? I love you”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Diane ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

The journey went by quickly for Diane, who divided her attention between reading and admiring the passing scenery. She was mesmerized by the snow-peaked mountains and the green forests covering their slopes. There was something serene about it, peaceful in a way she hadn't expected.

She must have dozed off at some point because she woke up with a realization that the car had stopped and Peter was giving their credentials to security at the camp entrance. They would spend the night here before continuing their journey. Her body ached from the hours in the car and bumpy ride. She was grateful for a warm meal and, after eating, went straight to the barracks she'd been assigned and promptly fell asleep.

It wasn't until the following morning that she really noticed the fence surrounding the camp. It wasn't the ordinary wire fencing she'd seen around farms earlier. This was taller. Heavy metal posts disappeared in both directions through the forest, supporting layers of reinforced mesh. There were cameras mounted at intervals, and the gate they'd come through the night before was manned by security. It all looked rather too military. Diane stood for a moment, studying it. She wondered whether the perimeter was meant only to keep human intruders and animals out. Then again, they were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest farms were miles away and, for all Diane knew, there were polar bears wandering around out here.

After getting more supplies and fuel, they were on their way, but with a security escort this time. Being this far out, Peter had explained, they needed one in case of hijackers. Diane had been told the same thing during her briefing, so the two-armed vehicles in front and behind them didn't particularly concern her. They had to switch to an armored military vehicle as well.

The journey promised to be as grueling as the previous day’s. The roads became rougher as they climbed deeper into the mountains, and the air grew steadily colder. The heater was on, but Diane could still feel the cold creeping around her feet. She was grateful for the hot coffee and warm soup she had packed in her thermos.

They stopped once for a quick lunch. The security detail stood around quietly, their eyes moving constantly over the surrounding forest, weapons ready. Diane noticed and wondered why they were so on edge. They were supposed to be worried about hijackers, but she couldn't imagine who would come all the way out here to hijack anyone. They hadn't passed another vehicle in over an hour.

She brushed the thought aside and reached for the container of warm food.

“Here.” She handed one to Peter before taking her own, then passed another to one of the security men.

He looked momentarily surprised. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“Diane.”

He nodded, although something about his expression told her he had absolutely no intention of calling her that. She was used to it. Titles mattered considerably more to some of her colleagues than they did to her. She'd never seen much point in making people wait on her simply because she outranked them. She wasn't a pushover either. Except maybe when it came to Daniel.

Afterwards, they packed up and resumed their journey; the hours bled into each other. It was nightfall, and they still hadn’t arrived. They had been driving all day. Then it appeared between the trees without warning. Tall, heavy electrical fencing ran alongside the road, with cameras and motion sensors mounted at intervals. It was far more imposing than the fence around the camp where they'd spent the previous night.

Beyond it stood another fence. And beyond that, through the trees, something grey and enormous rose vertically from the ground. Diane leaned towards the window. “What is that?” she asked. Peter glanced over. “The Boundary.” He said it so nonchalantly that Diane looked at him before turning back to the window. She had seen photographs, obviously. The Boundary had existed longer than any living person could remember, a restricted belt of land stretching across the northern region and continuing far beyond it. There were photographs of it, but photographs flattened things.

“What are the towers for?”

“Monitoring.”

“Monitoring what?”

“Breaches,” Peter shrugged, “stupid fanatics who try to go where they shouldn’t”

“What happens if somebody crosses?”

“Don't.”

“I wasn't planning to.”

“Good.”

His tone had changed. Only slightly. Diane looked at him for another second, then back outside.

“Have you ever known anyone who did?” Peter gave her a sideways look. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Occupational defect.” She, however, didn’t push further.

It was common knowledge that crossing the Boundary meant death, but that didn't stop religious fanatics from trying once in a while. There had never been a recorded case of anyone successfully crossing over, as far as she knew. The forest thickened as the road curved away from the Boundary, and the fences disappeared. Diane's thoughts returned, unwillingly, to the message she'd received before leaving.

Do not approach Boundary Marker 47 under any circumstances.

She had checked her phone again that morning. Nothing. No message. No notification. No record that the number had ever contacted her. She’d considered reporting it, but what exactly was she supposed to report? She had no proof. And worse, somebody might decide the recently dumped woman was having some sort of breakdown.

The car slowed, and buildings appeared through the trees ahead of them. Another security checkpoint, military-style barracks and several buildings that she assumed were the research center and quarters. This is it then, she thought to herself. Diane hadn’t known what to expect; pictures of the facility weren’t published for security reasons. What little she'd been told before coming had been mostly practical.

The cold hit her the moment she opened the door. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, glad she had let her mum drag her shopping for warm clothes. The standard-issue thermal wear she'd thought excessive when she'd packed it no longer seemed quite so ridiculous.

She was quickly shown to her quarters and her luggage brought in behind her. Diane didn't bother unpacking. She was too tired, too cold, and sick of being in transit. She took a quick shower to wash off the grime of the road, crawled into bed, and was asleep almost immediately.