Shamrock and his two companions burst through the loading dock door, spotting us immediately. One raises what looks like a real gun—not a prison shank. They've got outside help for sure.
The fifth key clicks in the lock. I yank it open, pushing Rebecca through.
"Go!" I command, following right behind her.
A shot rings out, the bullet pinging off the fence post inches from my head. I slam the gate shut behind us just as another shot fires.
Rebecca pulls me toward the tree line, surprisingly strong for her size. We crash into the woods together as more shots follow, splintering tree bark around us.
"Keep going!" I gasp, pushing through pain that threatens to drop me to my knees. "Don't stop!"
We run deeper into the woods, the sounds of pursuit fading slightly behind us. Rebecca guides me over fallen logs, around thick undergrowth, moving with surprising confidence through the forest.
"You know these woods?" I manage between labored breaths.
"I hike here sometimes," she replies, not slowing. "There's a service road about half a mile ahead."
I focus on keeping my feet moving, one after the other. The pain in my side is blinding now, each step sending fresh agony through my body. But stopping means dying, and I'm not ready for that. Not when freedom was so close. Not when Rebecca is risking everything to help me.
The trees thin ahead, revealing the promised service road—little more than a dirt track, but a path out nonetheless.
"Now what?" Rebecca asks, both of us stopping to catch our breath.
I pull out Officer Miller's radio again, listening. They're coordinating a search, spreading out through the woods. We don't have much time.
"We need transport," I say, thinking quickly. "And I need to contact my brother."
"There's a gas station about two miles down this road," Rebecca offers. "They have a pay phone."
Two miles. In my condition, it might as well be twenty. But there's no alternative.
"Lead the way," I say, straightening up despite the pain. "And Rebecca?"
She turns to me, face flushed from running, curls wild around her face. Even in these circumstances, even covered in my blood and dirt from the forest floor, she's beautiful in a way that tightens my chest.
"Thank you," I say simply. "For everything."
She holds my gaze for a long moment, and then she nods once.
"Let's go find your brother," she says, and turns toward the road that represents our only hope of escape.
Chapter 4 - Rebecca
"Let's go find your brother," I say, turning toward the dirt road that stretches before us like a promise.
My heart hammers against my ribs as we move forward, each step taking us further from the prison and deeper into whatever this new reality is. I can't quite process what's happening… How in the span of a few hours, I've gone from prison nurse to fugitive, running through the woods with an injured inmate.
An inmate who now knows things about me that I've never told anyone. Not my colleagues, not my friends.
_My father died in prison._
The words I spoke so easily in that quiet administrative office echo in my mind. I've kept that part of my life locked away for years, a private pain that shaped me but that I never discuss. Yet I told James without hesitation, the truth tumbling out as naturally as breathing.
Why? Because he was bleeding under my hands? Because we might die at any moment? Or is there something about those dark, steady eyes that pulled the confession from me?
I sneak a glance at him as we walk. His face is pale, jaw clenched against the pain. Blood has seeped through the bandage again. He needs a hospital, antibiotics, proper care. Not a desperate trek through the woods.
"How are you holding up?" I ask, though the answer is obvious.
