By Kris Faatz

Allie’s breath is a shank in her side. Greenbrier chokes the riverbank; thorns rake her bare arms. God knows what she’ll do when she gets to the water. She’s so tired she might pass out and drown, but the cops are after her and she won’t make it across the state line on her feet.

The law says the baby inside her is state property. The baby is Mason’s, not that he wants it or her anymore. Allie is sixteen. Baby’s just a flutter. She’s alone, too young, so the state says birth it, girl, and hand it over.

Far enough south, she wouldn’t have to. If she can get across the line.

Sweat stings her eyes. The muggy heat’s smothering. Mason straddled her, rough hands clutching her breasts, body grinding hers like he’d fuse their skins together. You’re mine, he said. All mine.

River mud squishes underfoot. The water’s smooth, quick-moving. Allie can swim, but she won’t try it now: the line’s thirty miles downstream. A hefty downed branch, tangled in fishing line, lolls onshore. She shoves it into the current and holds on.

Her soaked jeans chafe, but the water’s sweet on her skin. She lies on her back, one arm hugging her life raft. The cops’ll be busy searching the roads. If she can keep breathing, she might make it.

The banks glide past. The hard turquoise sky fades to lavender. Allie rests her free hand on her stomach and rubs it, gentle, like it’s a baby curled asleep.

Our life, she tells the flutter. Ours.

~~~~~

Kris Faatz (rhymes with skates) is a pianist and award-winning writer. Her short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in journals including Rappahannock Review and Atticus Review, and most recently was selected as Editor’s Choice at Bewildering Stories. Her third novel, Line Magic, was shortlisted for the Santa Fe Writers Project’s 2023 literary awards, and will be released in June 2025 by Highlander Press (Baltimore). Kris and her husband serve as staff to three cats and enjoy hiking and outdoor exploration. Visit her online at krisfaatz.com.