Chapter 3 #2
Stepping outside, the cool night air slapped me back into focus. Dressed entirely in black, I found a shadowed path, my heart pounding in my chest as I pressed myself against fences and hedges, slipping behind bushes, every nerve on edge. I moved cautiously, trying to stay invisible.
The neighborhood was quiet, but not empty. Porch lights glowed faintly in the distance, and the occasional bark of a dog cut through the stillness. Every creak, every whisper of movement made my pulse spike, the fear of being seen gnawing at me with every step.
An hour passed in tense silence as I worked my way outward, leaving the cluster of houses behind. The moon had barely begun to rise, casting long shadows across the dirt road.
As another two hours slipped by, the sky grew even darker, the thick canopy of trees making it hard to see the road ahead. I’d put miles between myself and my home by now, the sounds of bustling streets of the city replaced by the eerie silence of the woods.
I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t stopped. I was exhausted but I couldn’t stop.
The adrenaline which had fueled me for the first few hours was long gone, leaving only pain in its place. My legs ached, and blisters had formed on my heels, but none of it compared to the agony that lived deep inside my chest.
Three hours later, the trees had thickened around me, closing in as I pushed toward the state border with New Hampshire.
The air was cooler up here, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs. It should have been refreshing, but I couldn’t shake the festering feeling of dread that had taken up residence inside me. The farther I got from Boston, the closer I felt to breaking down.
Focus. You’ve made it this far.
Ahead, I spotted a small clearing off the road, the remnants of what looked like an abandoned campsite.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now.
My body was begging for rest, and I knew if I didn’t stop soon, I’d collapse.
My survival depended on staying alert, and exhaustion was an enemy I couldn’t fight off.
I crouched down, unslung the small bag from my shoulder, then pulled out the one bottle of water I brought.
The first sip felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough to quench the thirst gnawing at my throat.
I had to ration it. There was no chance of simply walking into a store to grab more.
One wrong move, one person recognizing me, and I’d be caught.
Six days, Emma. Make it last.
The darkness was thick now, wrapping around me like a blanket. I should feel safe here, hidden in the shadows, but I didn’t. The woods were too quiet, the silence unsettling. Every rustle of leaves made my heart skip; every snap of a twig had me on edge.
I hadn’t been alone in so long, and the weight of this realization hit me hard. Alone. No parents. Only me.
My thoughts spiraled, pulling me deeper into the grief I’d been trying so hard to ignore. But I couldn’t fall apart. Not yet!
Keep going north. Just keep moving.
The cold crept in, but I barely felt it.
Curling up beside the old campsite, I pulled my knees close to my chest, trying to conserve warmth. I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, I listened to the wind rustling through the trees, my mind constantly on alert for any sound out of place.
I didn’t have time to mourn. I didn’t have time to break down. All I had was the road ahead of me and the thin hope I’d make it to Kanata C before humans found me.
Three hours of sleep was all I’d managed.
I woke with a thirst so brutal it bordered on panic and drank every last drop of water I had on me.
Smart? No. Necessary? Absolutely.
Which meant I’d have to find a store soon, and risk exposure. Not a great start, but at least I was already closing in on the first state border.
It was mostly back roads now, I realized as I glanced at the map again, trying to pinpoint exactly where I was. The walk ahead was long, but the thought of crossing into New Hampshire in just a few hours fueled my determination.
After another two hours of walking, my legs screamed in protest, but it was the burning in my feet and the dryness scraping at my throat, that nearly brought me to my knees.
Those godsdamn blisters.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself onward. I only had to make it to New Hampshire. But when the first signs of movement appeared in the distance, my heart nearly stopped.
Military. Stationed at the state border. Soldiers in full gear, guards in uniforms.
Crap.
They lined the main road like a barrier, the entire border locked down. There was no way to slip past them unnoticed. My feet faltered as I stopped short behind a thick tree, peeking out to study them.
My pulse raced, and a wave of panic surged. There had to be another way through. I couldn’t turn around, not after walking for hours. But slipping past this many soldiers felt impossible.
I hid myself deeper in the trees. The soldiers’ gaze scanned the road ahead, probably expecting nothing more than a stray animal or an empty vehicle.
They weren’t expecting me. But it wouldn’t be long before they were.
It wouldn’t be long before people would realize what I’d done, and every military checkpoint would have orders to capture or kill on sight.
My hands trembled as I pulled the map from my bag again.
I traced the lines with my finger, searching for something that could help.
A river. A patch of forest. Anyplace where they wouldn’t be watching so closely.
Didn’t take me long before I spotted it: a stretch of woodland parallel to the road, which crossed the state border straight into New Hampshire.
It was risky. There was no telling if there’d be patrols out there, but it was my best shot. I wasn’t getting through this checkpoint alive.
I shoved the map back into my bag, while my heart was pounding like crazy as I glanced up at the soldiers one last time. They hadn’t noticed me. Yet. I moved as quietly as I could manage, and navigated through the underbrush, while branches scratched at my skin and snagged on my clothes.
The sound of my thrumming heart filled my ears, loud in the forest’s silence. Every now and then, I glanced back, half-expecting soldiers to burst through the trees behind me, but all I could hear was the rustle of leaves.
I was so thirsty. My mouth felt thick, my tongue sticking to the roof of it no matter how often I swallowed. There was nothing left to swallow.
The pain in my feet had turned into a dull, steady throb, the blisters now open and bleeding inside my shoes.
I kept pushing, my pace quickening as the sounds of the soldiers at the checkpoint grew distant, until I could see a faint clearing ahead, a gap in the trees where the land shifted slightly.
New Hampshire. I had made it.
I slowed my pace, the trees parting as I finally crossed the state border. Relief washed over me, and the weight of the last seventeen hours crashed down all at once.
My vision blurred, my body screamed for water and rest, but I couldn’t stop here. I had to keep going, to put more distance between myself and the border.
But right as I took a few more steps, my foot caught on a gnarled root hidden beneath the underbrush. I stumbled, my ankle twisting painfully as I fell to the ground, and a sharp cry escaped my lips.
The world tilted, and for a moment, all I could feel was the white-hot surge of agony radiating from my ankle.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand back up. I needed to move, but the pain was overwhelming, and I struggled to push through it.
Right then, a voice shattered the fragile quiet.
"You there. Halt."