She laughs, the sound bright and unexpected in our dire circumstances. "I've always wanted to travel. See places I've only read about. Italy, Thailand, New Zealand." Her eyes take on a faraway look. "I'd like to use my nursing skills somewhere they're really needed. Maybe work with Doctors Without Borders or something similar."
"Saving the world, one patient at a time?"
"Something like that." She smiles. "And on a smaller scale, I'd like a house with a big garden. Growing things seems like a good balance to a job that often deals with the worst days of people's lives."
"You'd be good at it," I say, meaning it. "Growing things. Bringing life back."
Our eyes meet, and something awakens in the space between us. Two people who've both lived with darkness but still look for light. In another world, another life, I might have met her differently. Asked her to coffee, learned her story slowly over time instead of in desperate confessions while hiding from armed pursuers.
Then a sound in the distance breaks the spell—a car engine, approaching from the direction of the road. We both tense, listening. The engine slows, then stops, somewhere near the front of the gas station.
"Could be Dice," I say, though it seems too soon.
Rebecca peeks through the trees toward the station. "I can't see from here."
I try to stand, grimacing at the pain that shoots through my abdomen. Rebecca immediately moves to help me, her arm sliding around my waist for support.
"Easy," she murmurs.
Together, we move slowly to a better vantage point, still concealed by trees but with a view of the station's parking area. What I see makes my blood run cold.
A black SUV, identical to the one we spotted on the prison security monitor, is parked beside the gas pumps. Two men in suits exit the vehicle, scanning the area. One speaks into a phone, nodding as he receives instructions.
"Walsh's men," I whisper. "They're tracking us."
Rebecca's grip on me tightens. "How? We were careful."
"The store owner, if I had to guess" I say. "He must have been suspicious, called it in or mentioned it to someone who's working with Walsh."
We watch as the men enter the store. Through the large front windows, we can see them speaking with Earl, who gestures animatedly, pointing toward the side of the building where the bathroom is located.
"We need to move," I say urgently. "They'll check the woods next."
But as I turn to retreat deeper into the forest, pain lances through my side, sharp and sudden. My knees buckle, and I grab a tree trunk to keep from falling.
"James!" Rebecca's voice is alarmed but hushed.
"I'm okay," I lie, straightening with effort. "Just moved too fast."
Her face tells me she doesn't believe me, but there's no time to argue. The men have exited the store and are heading toward the side of the building, moving with purpose.
"This way," I murmur, leading Rebecca deeper into the woods, away from the path we took from the prison. Each step sends fresh pain through my body, but fear provides enough adrenaline to keep moving.
We've gone perhaps fifty yards when a voice calls out behind us.
"I see movement! In the trees!"
Footsteps crash through underbrush, gaining rapidly. I turn to Rebecca, ready to tell her to run ahead without me, but the determination in her eyes stops me. She slides her arm more firmly around my waist.
"Together," she says, no room for argument in her voice. "We're staying together."
There's no time to debate. We push forward, my arm draped over her shoulder, her small frame somehow supporting a significant portion of my weight. We're moving too slowly, though. The footsteps behind us grow louder.
We reach a small clearing, and I know we can't outrun them. My strength is fading fast, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. The stitches in my side pull and burn.
"Stop," I tell Rebecca, pulling away from her support. "Get behind me."
"What? No—"
