The world smelled like wet dirt and smoke.
A thin fog clung to the forest floor, curling around the roots like ghosts too tired to rise. The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving the earth heavy and cold beneath Jayden's boots.
He moved through the trees in silence, every step deliberate. Behind him, Layla followed, her pace steady but dragging from exhaustion. She hadn't said much since they'd buried Ortiz — not that there'd been words for it anyway.
A branch cracked nearby. Jayden froze, his hand instinctively dropping to the wrench tucked in his belt.
Layla whispered, "It's just a deer."
Jayden exhaled, lowering his arm. "Instinct dies hard."
---
The Searchers
From a ridge above, the faint hum of engines rolled through the morning air.
Helicopters, distant but closing.
Jayden crouched low and scanned the horizon. Through the thinning trees, he could see the faint outline of a highway — dotted with flashing lights.
"They're expanding the grid," he said quietly.
Layla glanced toward the noise. "They think we'll head for town."
"They're not wrong," he muttered.
She gave him a look. "We're not doing that, are we?"
Jayden shook his head. "No. We head west — the river will hide us, at least for a while."
Her eyes softened with something between pride and fear. "You still plan like you're inside."
He gave a half-smile. "Inside taught me one thing — never move where they expect you to."
---
The River
By midmorning, they reached it — a slow, brown current winding through the forest like a scar. The air was damp, the water high from the storm.
Layla crouched by the edge, washing the mud from her hands. The cold bit deep, but she didn't flinch.
Jayden joined her, watching the water curl around his reflection. It didn't look like him anymore — the shaved head, the lines around his eyes, the jaw set from too many nights spent waiting for something that never came.
"Do you remember when we used to skip rocks?" Layla asked quietly.
He smiled, faintly. "Yeah. You always cheated."
"I was better."
"You threw them at frogs."
"That's called efficiency."
For a moment, they laughed — the sound strange and raw, like something they'd forgotten they could do.
Then the silence returned, heavier but warmer.
---
The Shelter
They found a collapsed barn not far from the river, its roof half-caved and its walls leaning like tired shoulders.
Jayden checked inside first — raccoon tracks, old hay, dry enough to build a fire. Perfect.
They gathered what they could — broken boards, twigs, and a blanket Layla had scavenged from an old campsite the night before. When the flames finally caught, it filled the barn with a dim orange glow.
Layla sat near the doorway, staring out at the rain-streaked trees. "You think they'll stop looking?"
Jayden shook his head. "Not for a while. We embarrassed them. Systems don't like when you remind them they can bleed."
She looked at him, expression unreadable. "You sound like you've been waiting for this fight."
He stared into the fire. "Maybe I have."
---
The Guilt Between Them
The quiet stretched until it broke under her whisper: "I thought you were dead."
Jayden looked up. Her voice trembled, but her gaze didn't waver.
"I tried to find you," she said. "They kept moving me — different homes, new rules, new lies. After a while, I stopped hoping."
Jayden's throat tightened. "I didn't stop. I just didn't know where to start."
Her jaw flexed. "You should've tried harder."
He didn't argue. There was no defense against truth.
Instead, he said softly, "You're right."
Layla's face crumpled, anger melting into something like grief. "I needed you, Jayden."
"I know." His voice was raw. "But I was still a kid trying to save myself."
She turned away, hugging her knees. "Then maybe that's what we're both still doing."
---
The Crack in the Armor
After a while, the exhaustion caught up. Layla drifted to sleep, her head resting against the wall, the blanket pulled tight around her shoulders.
Jayden stayed awake, staring at the fire until it blurred.
He thought of Ortiz again — his last words, his blood on the ground. He thought of the faces from every place he'd left behind: Dre in juvie, the ones who didn't make it.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sketchbook, opening to the newest page. The paper was warped from rain, edges frayed, but the drawing held — Layla's silhouette reaching through the grate, the storm around her.
He flipped to a blank page and began a new one — a river, a small figure crossing it, the light behind her growing brighter with every step.
When he finished, he wrote beneath it:
Freedom is not the absence of fear. It's choosing to walk with it anyway.
He closed the book and sat in silence, the sound of her breathing steady beside him.
---
The Dawn Decision
When Layla woke, the fog had thinned, and pale sunlight filtered through the cracks in the roof.
Jayden was sitting outside, sharpening a stick into a spear. He looked up as she stepped out.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Didn't want to."
She joined him, sitting on the edge of the barn's frame. "Where do we go now?"
He looked toward the horizon, where the woods met the distant sprawl of the world. "Anywhere they can't find us."
Layla smiled faintly. "That's everywhere and nowhere at once."
He grinned. "Sounds about right."
They sat there, side by side, letting the morning wind dry the last of the rain. Behind them, the smoke from their small fire rose like a signal no one could see.
For the first time since the world fell apart, the silence didn't feel empty.
It felt alive.