Kyle wouldn't let me read the files. I drove us home as he paged through all of them. He paused on one, and I figured it must have been his or mine. When he didn't move or say anything for about ten minutes, I turned to look at him closely. His face was pale. I'd never seen him so quiet and tense before.

I broke the silence by clearing my throat. "So...are you going to tell me what's up?"

It took a few moments for him to collect himself and respond, "We have to get these to Doc."

"Can't you just tell me what they say? You're acting so—"

I was interrupted by a blast that left my ears ringing. Our back window shattered, leaving the seats behind us covered in jagged shards of glass. We ducked our heads down, and I stomped my foot on the gas, my heart racing.

"You okay?" Kyle asked, apparently having been roused from his stupor. I nodded. He was now very alert and assessing our situation. "That was a sniper rifle. They've always avoided using deadly force against us. They must really not want us to have these," he said, tapping his index finger on the manila file folders. Then he tucked them into his jacket. "We're going to have to ditch the car. They know what it looks like now. Pull into those trees to the right."

I decelerated a bit, then yanked on the steering wheel, pulling off the road and into the sparse forest. Kyle and I hopped out, grabbed our backpacks, and started running. Rather than dwelling on the danger we were in, or how worn out I already was after being chased in that building, I tried to focus only on the rhythm of our feet pounding on the damp dirt beneath us, one after the other.

We kept going until we couldn't any longer—and for the record, both of us were pretty fit. We had been running for our lives for three years, and even before that, Kyle was a soldier and I was on the school track team.

I leaned against a tree, my chest heaving with each breath. Kyle joined me, standing with his back against the opposite side of the tree. Knowing him, he probably only did it strategically. Together, we had a 360 degree view of our surroundings. 

When I finally caught my breath, I took my backpack off, glad to be relieved of the extra weight. I pulled a map and flashlight from one of the zippered pockets. We lived at a hideout in the middle of nowhere, about 60 miles away, with others who were like us. We were both tired, and we didn't pack enough food and supplies to travel that far on foot. 

City 19, the one we'd grown up in, was only a few miles further in the direction we'd been running. I knew it would take some convincing for Kyle to agree to head toward the latter, but I told him my plan anyway.

To which he replied, "You can't be serious. We're being hunted, and you think we should waltz right into our enemy's base and deliver ourselves to them?"

"If we keep moving and blend in, they won't catch us. The fences aren't that tall. We could hop them and get in unnoticed." He didn't respond, so I continued, "We can try to find a new ride and some other supplies we really need."

I could tell he was conflicted. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do—frankly, it was probably a horrible plan—but he was also tempted. We were still city kids at heart, even after everything we'd been through.

"Remember when Jessie told us how easy it was to sneak in and meet with his girlfriend?" I said. Jessie was a daredevil, and he loved to tell the dramatic story of how he supposedly walked right into her apartment and even waved at the guards on his way out, despite having his face plastered all over the city on wanted posters.

"Jessie is full of shit." Kyle rubbed his forehead and paced a bit. I stood there with my arms crossed, adamant. "But fine, I'll go...If you promise to listen to me and be very careful."

"You really think I'm reckless?" I asked, laughing. He stared at me expectantly. I conceded by responding, "Okay, I promise."

An hour and a half later, the city's familiar skyscrapers were towering above us. We hung our backpacks on tree branches so we wouldn't be weighed down if things went badly and we had to run. I tied my hair up in a bun while Kyle tried to slick his back 50s style so we looked less like ourselves. 

Kyle boosted me up the fence. It was topped with barbed wire, so I threw my jacket across the sharp edges and climbed over. Kyle followed with ease, scaling the fence and hopping down with a quiet thud. For the first time in three years, we were home.