me how I thought 'running away' would be like, I'd say hijacking a car, sleeping in cheap motels, and having tons of fake IDs and cash. Never would I mention abandoning the vehicle so we could go on foot or camping in the middle of nowhere so the mosquitos could have a feast.

Of course, here wasn't exactly 'nowhere', I knew we were in the forest in Montana, surrounded by nature and no McDonald's. But in my dictionary, no internet connection meant exactly that.

"You know," I said to Klas, my one and only companion at the moment since both Vlad and Spyridon had gone chopping woods to make a campfire, "this is not exactly what I had in mind when you all said 'get to the safe zone' in your best PUBG voice."

Klas remained in silence but I could practically see the wheels turning in his brain as I watched his brows came to a knot. "What is PUBG?" He finally asked, after he probably had tried every possible word to match the abbreviations.

"Player Unknown's Battle Ground, duh." I rolled my eyes. "It's like the coolest mobile game ever, although they have the PC version."

Klas stared at me blankly.

"Have you ever play any shooting game? Like CS, maybe?"

He shook his head. "Unless by CS you mean confined space or communication squadron."

"No!" I nearly shouted. "Counter-Strike." I shook my head and stared at the bulge on his pocket. "Do you even have any app on your phone?"

Klas shoved one hand into his pocket and took out his cell phone. "I do." He tapped the screen a few times, probably unlocking the password, then showed it to me. There were at least a dozen dictionary applications on his home screen.

"Geez." I slid my gaze back to his stern looking face. "What are those for?"

"I forget or confuse some of the words so I need to have dictionaries in hand," he explained.

I stared at the screen once again. "Yeah, but French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Korean, German, Bahasa Indonesia, Filipino, Dutch, Hindi, Greek, Arabic?!" My eyes getting wider and wider as I read each language. "Shouldn't you be focusing on English?"

I'd noticed a few times how he always whispered to Flint and thought that he was probably having trouble with English. Language barrier sucked. I was grateful that Vladimir was as American as I was so we didn't really have to use a translator. Some couple hired a translator while they were courting (some were even after) because they had different languages and their common language, English, wasn't good.

"Pardon?" asked Klas, sweeping my wandering thoughts away.

I blinked twice. I honestly wondered how on earth I would ask him without offending him or hurting his feeling in the process. In the end, I decided to throw it out in the open. "Isn't the reason why you always whispered to Flint was because you have trouble speaking English?"

He looked more confused than he was a few seconds ago. "No," he finally replied. "I don't have any trouble speaking English."

My brows taut as I learned in our of curiosity. "Then why did you do it?"

The corners of his lips turned upwards and that was the first time I'd seen him smile. "Because Flint needs help with English."

"Flint?!" This was so shocking that I couldn't help my protest. "Isn't he American?! Don't play me, bud, I know his last name is Copper."

"He's German." He looked down and tapped the screen of his phone multiple times. "It's Küper, by the way."

I knew I sounded stupid when I said this but I said it anyway. "Flint is German?!"

"Yes," he nodded and shoved the phone into his pocket.

I stared in disbelief. "And you can speak German too?" He answered with a nod. "Wow, I didn't know Flint is a German. I thought he's American."

"I believe his mother is actually an American girl from Texas." Klas smiled. "He lived in Stuttgart then moved here about eleven months ago when he heard the news about Petros."

Again, I asked, "who?"

Klas raised one brow. "You know him, right? Petros Xavier Hudson. He was the head of CG before Spyridon took over."

My brain was so slow and I blamed a lot of running for that as it tried its best to connect the dots. "You mean Pete Hudson."

"Yes," he smiled fondly as if remembering something from the past, "but he wasn't called that at the beginning. Scar gave him that nickname." Klas' smile faltered a little and I could feel my chests tighten as the memory of a strong blonde petite girl came to mind.

"Do you know her?" asked Klas after a few moments of silence.

I nodded. "She was assigned to protect me but we both know she was more than that." I smiled as I remembered that night Scar had stolen the Queens Diary and snuck into my room. "She was a friend. A good one."

"Yeah," agreed Klas. He seemed more relaxed as he no longer using a formal 'yes'.

"How about you?" I took off my shoes and stretched my legs. "How did you know her?"

Klas followed suit although he kept his shoes on. "I was a recent graduate when she came to our school. Since they didn't really have that many staffs, the school asked me to train some freshmen." He shrugged one shoulder as if saying that it wasn't a big deal. "I was her mentor for two months before Pete became her only mentor."

I'd always thought of Klas as one of those who liked to stay silent and observe but right now I wasn't so sure.

"During my four years of studying there, I've never get scolded by any of my mentors but thanks to her, I was scolded by Pete."

Curiosity killed the cat but the satisfaction revived it so I got to ask, "what did you do?"

Klas smirked. "I made him jealous."

I was about to pester him for more details but we heard a rustle from the tree in front of us and stood. Vlad followed by Spyridon walked towards us. Both carried some branches on their hands.

They stacked those branches into a pile. Considering how they didn't have any ax or Steve Rogers' super strength, it was a solid effort.

"Anyone got matches?" asked Spyridon once they were done, putting both of his hands on his hips.

Vlad shook his head. He didn't smoke, unlike Adrian, so there was almost no reason for him to carry matches around. However, I knew Klas did, so I turned to him. Yet he shook his head.

"Oh, come on! I know you have it." I groaned frustratedly. "I saw you carrying a cigarette the other day."

A few days ago, while Adrian was still in comatose, I was walking out of the hospital when I saw Flint on his phone and Klas standing nearby with a lit cigarette in one hand.

"No," answered Spyridon before Klas had a chance. "Klas doesn't smoke. It was probably Flint's."

Klas added, "I was only holding it for him."

"Couldn't he hold both the phone and his cigar, one in each hand?" I asked incredulously.

Both men shook their heads. "We need to keep one hand on the firearm holster attached in our belts," explained Spyridon.

Damn. There were so many things that I didn't know about Flint and Klas although they'd been following me for two weeks.

"Oh, okay," I replied as I told myself to keep my mouth shut. Spyridon wasn't fond of me before we got here and watching the corner of his mouth twitch, I could tell that he was trying his best to maintain a good behavior.

I took two twigs that had the same length and tapped them against each other out of boredom. I did what those drummers usually did, hitting the twigs against each other, forming an X every time both twigs made a contact. I was making quite a rhythm when the tip of both twigs burst into flames. Like other normal beings, I threw both at the pile, making a perfect campfire.

I looked up to stare at three pairs of eyes. "I swear, I don't have a match with me."

Spyridon was first to recover from the shock. "It happens." He cleared his throat. "When you rub woods or rocks together, you can create a fire."

"But I didn't rub--" The Queens Diary placed beside me was lifted to the air and when it landed on the ground, Greek letters started to appear on the open page.

No matter how long I stared at it, I still didn't get it. But apparently, those three did. Once the writing stopped, they turned their heads and looked at me warily.

Great. Everyone knows Greek except me. And no one had the decency to tell me.