The woods were thinner now, the road closer.
Jayden could hear the hum of engines somewhere beyond the trees — steady, rhythmic, too organized to be random traffic.
He didn't tell Malik or Ortiz right away. He wanted to be sure. But deep down, his instincts were already screaming: They're closing in.
They'd been walking all night, hugging the edges of farmland that stretched toward the city lights. The moon hung low and pale. The ground was cold and wet under their boots.
Malik stumbled once, caught himself, swore. "You ever feel like the whole damn sky's watching us?"
Jayden didn't answer. Because he did.
---
The Smell of Control
By dawn, they reached the edge of a dirt road. Jayden crouched by the ditch, scanning the tree line. The air smelled like diesel and fear.
Ortiz pointed toward a grain silo in the distance. "We can rest there."
Malik squinted. "You sure about that?"
"No," Ortiz said. "But it's better than running till we drop."
Jayden nodded. "Let's move."
The silence between them wasn't trust — it was exhaustion that looked enough like it to pass.
As they crossed the field, Jayden's mind replayed every decision since St. Bridge. Each step forward felt heavier than the last. Every promise — to Dre, to Layla, to himself — carried weight that muscle alone couldn't hold.
Freedom wasn't free. It charged interest.
---
The Grain Silo
The silo loomed over them, metal ribs gleaming in the gray light. A truck sat parked nearby, empty, its tires sunk halfway into mud.
Ortiz scouted ahead, hand tight on his wrench. Malik kept watch on the road.
Jayden climbed the ladder halfway up and scanned the horizon.
That's when he saw it — a glint of blue lights in the distance, faint but real.
"They're coming," he said.
Malik looked up. "How far?"
"Two miles, maybe less."
Ortiz cursed. "Dogs?"
"Probably."
Malik kicked a rock hard enough to send it flying. "We can't keep running, Jay."
Jayden jumped down, landing hard. "Then we don't."
"What's that mean?"
"It means we start thinking smarter."
---
The Stranger
They slipped inside the silo. The air was thick with dust and the faint smell of corn. In the center sat a sleeping bag, a lantern, and a small crate of canned food. Someone had been here recently.
Jayden froze. "We're not alone."
A voice came from the shadows. "Didn't plan on company."
A man stepped out — middle-aged, wearing a flannel shirt and an oil-stained cap. He looked more tired than dangerous, but his hand stayed close to the hunting rifle leaning against the wall.
"Who are you?" Jayden asked.
"Who's asking?"
"The kind of people who need a place to sit for five minutes."
The man studied them. "You're the ones they're talking about, ain't you? The escapees."
No one answered. The silence was confirmation enough.
He sighed. "You picked a bad patch of world to run through. Folks around here still think freedom's a privilege, not a right."
Jayden's voice was low. "You turning us in?"
The man shook his head. "Not my business. But the sheriff'll be by soon. They're sweeping everything east of the highway."
"Then we'll be gone before that."
He reached into the crate and tossed them a can of soup. "You look hungry. Eat fast. Don't leave a mess."
Jayden caught it, nodding once. "Thank you."
The man's eyes softened, just slightly. "Don't thank me. Just don't get caught. World don't need more ghosts."
---
The Price of Mercy
They ate cold soup in silence. Malik kept glancing toward the door. Ortiz leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed.
When they finished, Jayden stood and offered the man back the can. "We'll go."
The man hesitated. "You sure you know where you're heading?"
"North."
"St. Briar way?"
Jayden's hand froze. "Why?"
"Just heard it on the radio. Said the girl they think he's going after's there. Your name came up."
Jayden's stomach dropped. "They're watching her?"
The man nodded. "Like hawks. You show up there, son, you'll bring the whole world down on both your heads."
Jayden's voice was a whisper. "She's my sister."
The man didn't smile. "Then you better move fast, and quiet."
---
The Sirens
They left before the hour was up. The man watched them go without another word.
By the time they reached the treeline, sirens began to rise in the distance — thin, sharp, echoing through the valley.
Ortiz muttered, "They're sweeping this way."
Malik turned to Jayden. "We can split now. I can head west, buy you time."
"No," Jayden said. "We stay together."
Malik shook his head. "You don't get it, Jay. They want you. The longer I'm with you, the shorter my story gets."
Jayden stared at him, the words heavy between them. Malik's face was tired, but not cruel. Just real.
Jayden finally nodded. "Then be careful."
Malik gripped his shoulder once — quick, brotherly — then jogged toward the woods.
Ortiz sighed. "That's one ghost already."
Jayden looked north again, jaw tight. "Then we don't make him one more."
---
The Road North
By dusk, Jayden and Ortiz reached the edge of the county line. The land sloped down toward a small town, lights glowing faint and warm.
They hid behind a row of abandoned trucks, the smell of rust thick in the air. The road signs read St. Briar — 22 miles.
Ortiz rubbed his hands. "You really think she's there?"
Jayden's voice was steady, quiet. "I don't think. I know."
He pulled the sketchbook from his pack and flipped to the latest page — the one he'd drawn days ago. Two flames across a cracked bridge.
He traced the line between them with his finger. "Almost there."
Ortiz looked at the horizon, where sirens pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying god. "Then we better move before the world catches up."
Jayden smiled, tired and fierce. "Let it try."