"Do you think that angels live in the stars?"

My mother turned around and smiled at me, neatly placing folded shirts and pants into a drawer. Her face didn't have a wrinkle on it, and each red strand of hair was carefully placed into the braid that hung down to her waist. As she sat down on the bed and tucked the cold blankets up to my chin, the scent of her favorite perfume filled the room. Her bracelets jangled from her wrists as she fluffed the pillows behind my head and handed me a stuffed animal. I held onto it tightly, letting its dark glass eyes poke against my arms.

"Well?" I asked. "Do you?"

She kissed my forehead. Her eyes looked a bit glazed over. Instead of replying, she reached over and held my hand.

* * * * * * * * *

Saliva frothed around my bloodied mouth and chin--the creaking noise of the rope was all I could hear. My bare feet were only a few inches above the cracked wooden boards, and the world around me became quite colorful and my head much lighter. I did not know how to comprehend the pain shooting down my neck. My eyes slowly fell upon the fibers of the thick yellow rope above me, swinging my body back and forth, back and forth. Despite all of my failed attempts to regain an ounce of control over any form of liquid, I began to shut everything out except for the fibers on the rope. Beads of sweat poured down my forehead.

A hint of white--sharp, tiny, insignificant, appeared on the rope's surface. It was far too small to be distinguished by the guard who kept his unmoving gaze on me, hand on his gun, the tipped over crate only a few feet from me. My lungs were closing in on each other, but I did not dare take my eyes off from that rope. I forced myself into concentration. The white spot began to gradually spread, traveling on the strands that held the rope together, slowly gnawing away and eating at them. My throat and windpipe were caught ablaze, and, although my eyelids were nearly closed, I kept gazing at the weakened spot forming above.

With a loud snap, the rope broke apart.

As I landed sideways onto the wooden deck with a heavy thud, the only then did the crowd's roars of shock and disapproval filled the air. Thunder rumbled above in the graying sky. Gasping and choking uncontrollably, I bent over, seized with dizziness. In the corner of my eye, I could see that the guard cursed to himself, staring up at the severed top part of the rope attached the wooden post. He loudly called for other men to come up to where we both were on the wooden deck. From the crowd, a few more were making their way forward through the impatient people.

The guard took a step towards me, muttering under his breath. Behind my hair, I watched him stretch out his right hand towards me as he prepared to grab my arm in order to pull me upright. I observed the veins under his skin, the blood pulsing through them. After briefly closing my eyes, and, relying the technique I had spent many nights on the beach practicing and teaching myself to do, I followed the rhythm of the water flowing in his body, the rhythm of his heart sending the fluids through to his arms and legs and brain.

When I slowly looked up, the guard stood still.

His eyes were wide with panic and shock, and, although his arm was outstretched to me, it slightly shook, the majority of the veins visible, showing through his wrist and bicep. The other men who had been coming up towards us stopped and stared at him in a funny way, even though they shouted his name at him, he did not turn to look at them. He was fighting against the grip I had somehow gotten on him, and my head was in intense pain, but I knew I could not lose focus.

Like puppet strings, I slowly guided his shaking left hand towards his waistband, where a bunch of small silver keys hung by the edge of his black belt. His shoes weakly shuffled towards me--his mouth captured in a silent scream that only I could see, as his back was facing the crowd, which was growing more restless. More agitated. I tasted the bile rising at the back of my throat as his hands lingered around the chains that bound my wrists. It took a couple of tries due to the dizziness and nausea that overwhelmed me, but I managed to get his fingers to work around the lock, until my hands and ankles were finally free. Breathing heavily, I watched as the chains fell to the ground.

By now, his subordinates with shouting at him, rage and frustration in their voices. But the guard could only look at me--the keys he held slipped out of his unwilling grasp. When I guided his hands to his gun, I made sure to have him angle the weapon directly under his chin as he raised his arms upwards. The moment I directed his finger on the trigger, his eyes were wide, wet, and he tried to scream as the gun went off. Blood splattered on the wooden boards, on my face and clothing, the rope still around my neck. His body collided in front of me, a pool of blood spreading outwards from his smeared brains and skull.

Shrieks and horrified cries filled the air. It began to rain, drizzling at first, before pouring harder. The guards below remained on the steps, staring at their companion's body, then at me. Breathing heavily, with water pouring over my nose and mouth, I fixed my gaze back at them. They took a few steps, frantically talking on their communication devices. Several others had arrived, ushering the frightened crowd and making them disperse. A few camaflouged jeeps rolled in through the muddy yard, leaving tracks on the ground from the tires, their headlights making the rushing rain more visible in the air. Dozens of people dressed in their white suits approached me slowly, but I had nothing for them. I just sat there as they clamped on a new set of chains and led me away from the guard's broken, mangled body.

* * * * * * *

Drenched and shivering, I slowly slid to the ground on the stone floor of the dark cell, feeling at the black mark where the noose had bit into my neck with a hand. My heart was pounding against my chest after they injected two more purple rounds of the formula into my arm with their syringes, leaving a large red bloody spot on my arm. As the drug began to take its effect on me, my eyes adjusted more to the sticky, hot darkness around me. I attempted to freeze off the lock that bound the cell door, but no such thing occurred. I looked at my filthy hands in despair, wondering what was it that I had done before than I wasn't doing now.

With a burning, searing headache I slowly closed my eyes, knowing that the new rope that they were planning to use wasn't going to snap this time--no matter what efforts I would put forward. I had not slept in four days, but yielding to the temptation do so would only worsen things for me. I had to stay awake. Blindly stumbling around, with the sound of chains on my bare feet rattling against the ground, I began to feel against the brick layout of the cell with my fingers, searching for any potential weak spots. Every minute that passed by made the heat in the cell grow worse, and sweat allowed my clothing to remain glued to my skin. As I encountered one of the corners, my thumb brushed against a loosened brick closest to the ground, slightly lifted around its corners.

My heavy breaths filled the air. I knelt down on my knees, tugging at it with my hands, my hair over my face. It broke apart into two pieces, and, as I pressed my palm against the empty space, soft, damp soil met my fingertips. Frantically, with what little strength I had left in my stinging arms, I started to dig, hoping that there was not another wall on the side opposite of me. The soil seemed to collapse into each other, forming greater chunks as I broke off more bricks, ignoring the blood dripping down my palms from my torn fingernails. As I crawled deeper into the hole under the wall, squeezing my legs and torso through as much as I could, I continued to feel around in the pitch black.

A putrid stench, one so strong it made my eyes burn, nearly made me wretch. The sound of water rushing grew louder, and the soil began to lessen and grew harder against my searching palms. Suddenly, I lost my balance, and I found myself tumbling face down into a large tunnel of some sort, where cold air and mist met to my face. Yellow, brownish water rose to my knees as I stumbled forward, one hand against the wall. The tunnels were interconnected, webbed together. The current of the water raged and pushed against me, but, from a small hole above, I could make out a few specks of light traveling down. I began to run, not looking back at the hole I had climbed out of, going through one tunnel after another. Water splashed under my feet. I did not know where I was going, or where to go to. My rattling chains slowed me down some, but I made sure to keep moving, not looking behind me once.

* * * * * * *

I awoke with a start at the sound of a dog barking in the distance.

The water was quieter before, much more calm. As I slowly sat up from leaning against the tunnel wall, hunger gnawed at my stomach, and the roof of my mouth was so dry that my tongue was stuck against it. Ignoring the pain in my knees, I struggled to my feet, rubbing my eyes with both muddy palms. I never knew it was possible to have one's head so hot and one's feet so cold. The constant smell of human waste made me dizzier than ever, and I could hear the rumbling of vehicles above, their tires rattling against the manholes and bumps on the apshalt. Confined areas were no stranger to me---but the emptiness and the tattooed walls left a certain eeriness that I was all too unprepared for. I much preferred the underground caves, because to be so thirsty and yet be near water that was not fit for drinking---I would had rather wished to be pinned between two rocks. I kept moving as fast as I could.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not get the chains off my ankles. The green and brown water I waded through simply did not hide the noise they make; and the liquid grew thicker and deeper, rising from my knees to my thighs, then my waist, stomach, and finally, up to my chin. My nostrils were filled with the powerful stench, but I kept my head up above the surface, wheezing, gasping. When it it eventually transformed to sludge, it took more effort to walk through the thick texture, and I had to press my hands against the wall to support myself, to make as little noise as I possibly could.

In the darkness, I could see the soldiers' shadows stretched out on the walls, dogs attached to their leashes, barking and snarling. The yellow spots that came from their flashlights bounced off the walls, and several men began yelling, giving orders to each other, dispersing into groups. Quickly, I began to coat myself head to toe in the foul smelling stuff, in attempt to throw off the dogs' scents. Their footsteps echoed against the floor of the concrete tunnels, water splashing on their boots. I crouched low on my knees, pressed against the wall, trying to quiet my breaths, slowly moving forward at the same time in the darkness.

A few figures appeared behind the soldiers. My skin began to tingle at the sight of their high ranking uniforms, leather jackets, boots, the caps they wore on their head. Even through the dim light, I could catch a glimpse of Baldwin's neatly combed blond hair, a shocking contrast against his dark haired subordinates. Like always, his posture was posed, calm. A cigar was placed in his mouth, and his hands were clamped behind his back. He did not flinch at the smell around us.

"Sir, there's no need to be down here," one the men said. He scratched at his mustache and was chubby, having a round potbelly that hung to his knees. "The operation is going quite well--alll our guys are where they need to be. We've got everything under complete control."

"Ah." A smirk gathered on Baldwin's lips. He took a puff from his cigar. "I supposed you did during the last three times he escaped before, yes?"

The man's face turned red. "Well, I...I--"

"Calm yourself, General Suggs," the other man murmured in a low voice. It only took one look and I instantly recognized Lieutenant Lockwell's face. "There is no need to get excited." He glanced sideways at Baldwin. "With all due respect, sir, there is nothing to worry about. Our men have secured every exit of the sewer system and are commanded to shoot him down immediately if he is seen attempting to leave. He couldn't have gotten very far, especially with no food or water."

"I've had enough of the empty promises and lies," Baldwin replied, folding his arms. "I only ask that you do what you say you will do. If you do not bring him to me in the next twenty four hours, dead or alive, then your career will be over. I need someone who is focused on following orders, not scattered all over the place. Or perhaps you find yourself unfit for the position, lieutenant?"

"Of course not, sir," Lockwell replied, a red shade settling over his face. "Though, shall I say, Formula 25B should---"

"I...I think it needs a little bit more adjusting, gentlemen," General Suggs interjected, raising a finger. "It doesn't make any sense to me how a guard would willingly take his own life after freeing a convict. That...that is, unless they perhaps missed a couple of things in their re--"

Huey Baldwin swung towards him with a small blade he had pulled out from his pocket. His speed and agility was shocking to me, despite his thin, wiry frame.The man doubled over in pain, clutching the red wound appearing on his chest, before sinking to his knees in a loud grunt. He began to cough up blood, and as Lockwell immediately knelt down next to him, panic growing in his round eyes, Baldwin stepped away, his back turned to them, his head held low. After folding it, he placed the bloodied blade into his pocket. Smoke rose in the air from his cigar, but his blue eyes were hidden underneath the rim of his hat.

"Anyone who discusses such sensitive information in public will be held accountable," he quietly said. "And once this waste to society is eliminated, I want every inch of the neighboring cities to be searched for any Khonie filth that still may be lingering outside of the security wards. Whoever attempts to stop you should be put to death." Another puff of smoke rose in the air. "You have sent out men to look for the boy, correct?"

Lockwell quickly nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. As soon as he is located, you are to bring him to Jova immediately. And you must shoot anyone else who has been involved in his taking."

"Yes, sir."

As Baldwin walked away, his boots made a clicking sound against the ground, hardly disturbing the water underneath them. General Suggs was groaning, clutching his wound as Lockewell began to apply pressure to it with a gray handkerchief, which soon became red.

* * * * * * * *

My thirst worsened as I began to crawl forward on my hands and knees in the sludge, fighting to stay awake. My skin itched and burned so badly I wanted to peel it off; and the tunnels seemed to be endless, leading into one after another. Each exit and manhole that I spotted was full of guards waiting at the entrance, guns loaded, barrels pointed downwards. Unable to continue on anymore, I laid on my back in the dark, exhausted,my chest slowly rising and falling. A shallow puddle of greenish water rushed underneath me, causing my hair to float around my ears. The men's shadows were nearby, but not too close.

Rufus. I needed to get to Rufus. I needed to get to him.

The water was worthless to me. It mocked me.I could neither use it for my defense or sustenance. I swallowed heavily with what was left of my saliva, and turned my head to the side, my heart pounding. I tried to think, but my mind was anything but clear. A dog barked into the distance, and I started to sit up, preparing to move further away from the noise again, when the sound of a harmonica playing in the background startled me.

Silently, with my back against the wall, I followed the noise, remaining as still as I possibly could. Crickets chirped from above, and I saw that the sound was coming near a manhole, one that was partially open, revealing the night sky. The rusted ladder was only a few feet from me, and three men were huddled at the bottom, smoking blunts, playing cards, drinking out of a metal flask that they shared by passing it to each other, one by one. Their weapons were lying on the ground next to them. Crouching down slowly on my knees, I observed them, trying to keep still for the sake of chains rattling around my ankles. A young soldier began to hit another note on the harmonica, but one of the older men slapped it out of his hand.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What gives?"

"Would you shaddup with that damn thing? I'm trying to sleep. We've been here all day."

The young soldier sighed as he reached down and picked it up. "Now look at what you've done." He shook his head. "I've got to sanitize it now."

This only earned a hoot from his comrades, and, with great annoyance, he stood up and walked off. My heart was beating, and as I followed him, he was muttering to himself, wiping it off the best he could with the edge of his jacket. He was a short fellow, rather small and wiry. He had left his weapon with the others. I hesitated, before taking a deep breath and suddenly gathering him into a headlock. He released a startled squeak---the harmonica slipped from his hands and landed into the grimy water with a heavy splash. As I overpowered him with my arms, his fighting and struggling became less and less until his body went limp into my arms. As I quietly laid him down on the ground---the sound of footsteps arrived.

"Mushy?" one of them called. "You okay?"

I scrambled back into the darkness, the chains rattling loudly. The other man had come out, muttered a curse word as he noticed his lifeless body, and raised his gun out into the pitch black in front of him. His other comrade stood behind him, his red eyes peeking from the netted helmet on his head. It dawned on me that both of them were likely stoned--one of them began to chuckle.

"Alright, buddy, lemme see you come out. Party's over." He lowered his voice and aimed his M-4 carabine at me. "Come on out, buddy."

He fired. The blast echoed in the tunnel, and sweat beaded on my forehead. The noise alone could send a swarm of them over here. My eyes fell on the ladder--from what I could see , there was no one guarding the top--I desperately hoped there was no one there. With a slew of curse words, he began to blindly shoot again, leaving a spray of bullets in the murky water and holes in the tunnel wall. He frowned, stepping forward in the shallow water,trying to make out my shape in the dark, listening to the rattle of my chains.

"What's wrong, tall fellow? Can't mess with people ya own size?" A laugh fell on his face. "Come out."

As he paused to shoot again, he frowned. It only dawned on me that he was out of ammo. He turned to his comrade, who nervously stood in the background. Perhaps he had smoked too much to understand what he was doing and where he was.

"Gimme yours," the other man demanded, snatching the weapon out of his arms. Gritting his teeth, he began to fire once more, this time, his aim knicking me in the left arm. I remained still, biting back the pain as he stepped closer to me, before turning around to face his comrade.

"I guess the---"

I didn't let him finish his sentence. My fingers wrapped around a rock as I tackled him to the ground. He began to shout, trying to reach for the gun, but I brought the rock down upon his head repeatedly, swinging with all remaining strength I had left. His comrade just stood there and stared, a blank expression in his green eyes, pausing to take a sip from the metal flask in his palm. Rushing to my feet, I picked up the rifle and pointed it at him, my hands shaking.

He didn't react. I slowly made my way past him, up the ladder, up to the clean, crisp air that fell upon my face and shoulders and hair. The street was dark, empty, with only a few shops and stores open. I took several deep breaths, hobbling as fast as I could through the street, breathless. The air was wonderful, delicious. Soothing to me.

A man was fumbling with his keys, stumbling out the store with a paper bag. He had his coat draped over one arm, his shirt untucked, har on his head. As he stood by the driver's side, he made out my form in the street near the lamppost. Panic appeared on his face when he saw the rifle in my hand. With a horrified shriek, he took off running down the sidewalk, dropping everything on the ground, spilling the contents of his bag.

I limped forward, scooping them up, my shaking hands wrapping around the car keys. I kept glancing around, managing to get the car door open and slid into the driver's seat and threw the rifle in the back seat.I slammed the door shut, quickly, locked it, before peering into the contents of the paper bag. To my great relief, there was food inside--bread, sandwiches, apples, bananas, cigarettes, canned soup, and, best of all, two bottles of water. I gulped both down so fast I nearly choked, spilling it all over my mud crusted shirt,the cold goodness clearing my head. My muddy bare feet rested on the gas and clutch.

As I slowly adjusted the rearview mirror, I soon understood why the owner had fled. My dirty face was unrecognizable--one of my eyes were swollen purple, lips bloodied and cracked, tangled, matted hair over my vision. A wetness settled in my eyes, as I took a shaky breath, glancing at Honda's ring on my index finger. With my slippery fingers I turned the keys in the ignition, listening to the engine come to life. I rested my left hand on the steering wheel, my right one on the transmission. As I shifted into first gear and sped off, I made sure to roll down the window all the way, just to taste the wind again, to reach out to the stars.

* * * * * * * *

I attempted to remember where Janice's home was as I left Jova---the seven hour drive hardly affected me. I never wanted to really leave the car. I went through highways, the ones that weren't blown up, some roads that were possible to travel.I made sure to avoid Portia's ruins by taking a route through the countryside, recalling that Janice hadn't lived too far from town. She was only north from Selva, I supposed. The roads were bumpier, not maintained, rougher, claimed by nature. Not too far, the blue horizon of the ocean appeared to me, under a pink and purple sky. Chills ran down my spine as I pondered about Rufus's and everyone else's whereabouts, and my fingers tightened around the steering wheel at the thought of my selfishness, my foolishness, my guilt.

I got lost several times, attempting to locate where I was. But after going around in circles, I began to pay more attention the trees around me, the wilted buildings. I kept looking back, especially if another vehicle was around, if there was a black car.

The sun had begun to rise as I drove through a tall, grassy field and parked the car, turning it off. A lingering pain settled around my neck at the sight where Honda and I had first encountered each other. When I got out and stared at the woods, which once was full with piles of logs and men working and talking, its stillness made my throat tight. It didn't seem right, but I didn't want to look at it anymore, so instead, I reached into the backseat and grabbed the rifle and the paper bag. Gnats flew in the air and swarmed around my head as I trudged through the waist high grass, placing the car keys deep into my pocket.

The house stood over a small slope, next to a rusted shed full of cobwebs and brown nails . Several broken boards littered the front yard, and the sound of barking made me seize up, until two dogs appeared from the back, one golden, one brown. Their pink tongues licked at my arms and legs, and I dropped what I was carrying on the grass and hugged them both, their tails thumping rapidly on the ground. I buried my face in their heads, their soft fur. They didn't seem to mind that I was covered in sewer waste--they confirmed to leave slobbery kisses all over my face, nose, chin. They circled around me.

Honey began to sniff at the paper bag lying next to me. Unable to speak, I gently scratched her ears, reached into its contents, broke off half a ham sandwich and gave it to her. Pepper's wet snout touched my elbow as I gave her the rest. I slowly looked up at Janice's bent form that appeared on the porch. The door creaked as it swung shut behind her. I was surprised to see how much older she appeared to look from the last time I had seen her. She had a limp to her step, and dark circles were under her eyes. Bruises lined her arms. She wore a nightgown, and her dark hair, mostly gray, was shorn around her ears. She grasped a cane in her left hand, and her brown eyes were full of distress until she saw me.

A look of surprise fell on her face.

I slowly rose to my feet, picking up the wrinkle paper bag and the rifle. Honey and Pepper rushed towards her, barking, but she hardly glanced at them. She narrowed her eyebrows, trying to make sense of my facial features—she was struggling to recognize me. I swallowed heavily, taking a step forward, holding out the items to her.

“Here,” I said. “These are for you.” I glanced at the rifle. “There may be some ammo left in it, but I can try to get you more.”

Slowly, she made her way down the steps, holding onto the railing with one hand. The heat of the morning sun fell upon us, blocked by a few palm trees in the distance. We gazed at each other for a moment. She squinted her eyes up at me, tears welling up in them.

”You can protect yourself with this, in case anyone comes by. Tried to bother you.” My voice was barely audible. “If someone comes up here, tries to give you trouble, just let me know. Hmm? All you’ve got to do is to just let me know.” My words seemed foolish. How could I protect her when all of my abilities were gone? I couldn’t even do it when I had them. I slowly opened the paper bag and held it out, avoiding her eyes. “There’s a bit of grub in here. Not a whole lot, but enough to get you by for a little while. I know it must be hard for you to…to get anything good at the market.” When I placed both items in her arms, I lightly patted the bag.

She stared at me, slowly shaking her head.

I fumbled in the pocket of my soiled pants, pulling out the car keys. “It’s not mine, but if you got a little gasoline around somewhere, all you have to do is fuel her up. Get around easier. That is, if you are able to drive. I…I figured…”

“You know I can’t take all of this. Where’d you get these things from?” she asked. “What’s happened with you? Why are you covered in mud? What’s—“

“I want you to,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

I slowly shook my head. “No.” My voice was raspy. “Thank you.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Water dripped down her face. “I let them take him from me. I…I promised her—“

”It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “None of this was. You did what you could. And that is more than enough for me.”

“But they have the child,” Janice replied, wiping her eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere up north. For her, too. That…that woman. She came up to me with a bunch of men.” A sob escaped from her. “I didn’t think she’d find me…I didn’t—“

”They don’t.”

A look of surprise fell on her face. “No?”

”Not right now, they don’t,” I softly said. “I’ll explain to you a little bit later. But I’m going to need your help. You remember the man whom you gave the letter to? I need you to help me find him. Please.”

Janice wiped her eyes and sniffed, looking me up and down. “Yes. Of course. Let me help you get those off. I have some tools in my shed. Perhaps …maybe a nice change of clothes will do? Some of my husband’s clothing is in the attic. A hot meal? You need a good meal. It’s not much, but—”

”I can’t stay here,” I replied, glancing behind me at the vast trees. The silence of the place unnerved me, that it could be broken at any time. “I just stopped by to give you these. I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. I…I can’t risk you getting hurt too. I…” I couldn’t speak anymore.

”You don’t look so well,” Janice said, continuing to gaze at me. “I’m not about to let you leave my place looking like that.”

I said nothing.

“Her satchel and sketchbook is in the house, on the bookshelf in my living room,” she continued, struggling to her feet. “I’ll give those to you now, as I had promised you.”

I hardly heard her as she left. This didn’t seem real. It was no more real than the mark around my neck, where I had cheated death merely hours ago. Honda wasn’t in the ground, rotting away in the soil. She was at home in our cave, weeding our garden, feeding Here Boy, walking in the calendula fields, swimming in the steam. She was painting, cooking, creating herbal poultices for ailments that she had learned from her people, and sewing and mending clothes. She wasn’t here in this spot, under this tree. And I suddenly wanted to run back home, but how could I have home without her? How could such a place exist without her? How had I failed to provide my son with a mother? Had I failed him already?

I didn’t realize how much water was escaping down my face until Janice’s hand on my shoulder startled me. I closed my eyes, wishing that was dreaming. I was dreaming. I was asleep, trapped in a nightmare that I couldn’t shake myself out of. I wanted to ask someone to help me do it. I suddenly stood up, unwilling to let myself dwell on it. I had to get to Rufus. Janice remained sitting, looking up at me with a broken look in her eyes.

“I’ll be off,” I whispered.

“You ought to give yourself a couple of days before you leave,” she murmured. “I don’t think you’ve ever let yourself grieve once. You’re not int the right place to do anything.” She cleared a strand of hair off her face placed a hand on her hip. “You need a month’s worth of hot meals, a bath, some decent clothing. Bandages too.”

I didn’t need her to stress about where I was coming from. Her words made goosebumps form on my skin, but I tried not show it. “I’m alright.”

”No,” she snapped, her tone growing harsh. “No, you’re not alright.”

“They’re following me as we speak. You saw what they did to you. They’ll continue to do worse,” I fired back. “You were involved with me. They hurt everyone that’s involved with me. That’s why your leg is hurt.That’s why—” I glanced at the sky, blinking twice. “That’s why I must be alone. I can’t…I can’t have anyone with me.” My voice fell into a whisper. “Not even my own child.”

“They’re not coming over here again,” Janice said. “I have people looking out for me. Good folks. They’ll shoot any soldier that steps on this property at first sight.”

“They’ll search this place.”

“Let them wreck it all the way through; it’s already falling apart,” she spat. “Didn’t I tell you I’ve got folks? After what’s happened to me, they come by and check every evening.” Despite her indignant tone, a hint of a smile fell on my face—she hadn’t changed a bit. “Isn’t that their plan, though? They wish to drain you. They’re going to run you down to the ground. You’re exhausted. Fact is, you’re wearing me out already. You’ve worn me out the last time I’ve seen you, now you’re going to do it again l

I looked down.

“I know you how you tried to protect that girl,” she softly said. “I know you’re having a hard time forgiving yourself. But you have to.”

”It should’ve been me,” I whispered.

Janice placed both hands on my shoulders. “No.”

I stared at her, my face wet.

”Don’t talk like that,” she said, putting the cloth satchel in my hands. “I don’t want to hear another word of it. When are you going to realize that you can’t possibly protect everyone? You can’t take responsibility for everything. Things happen for a reason—they don’t always occur as a direct result of your own actions.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

”You can’t do the work of a thousand men. Nor can you control the outcome of every situation, no matter how hard you try. Things are mean to be because they are.” She sighed, stood up, and dusted her nightgown.

My fingers felt around the material as I opened it. Honda’s blanket was neatly folded inside, and it was the first thing I pulled out and held the fabric to my nose. It had her scent, her touch, and I closed my eyes for a moment, placing it close to me.

I shifted my gaze, unable to acknowledge her words. “I can’t stay anymore. I must go.”

“She went to sleep and never woke up,”Janice said. “I…I knew that she had been ill, but we both thought she would be getting better.” She stared at her hands on her lap. “She asked me to take care of your boy.” Clenching her jaw, she spoke through her teeth. “But that woman, that witch, she had those men beat me senseless, which is why I can’t walk proper anymore. She was lucky she wasn’t alone with me. And then she took him from me—they had to pull him from my grasp. He was crying and screaming, ripped from my arms in the middle of the night. I wish I was strong enough to fight each of them. I’ll kill her if I see her again.”

”I have to go,” I repeated.

“Go where? Back to the woods where you will starve and likely be recaptured?”

It was hard for me to look at her.

“I’ve got a place where you can hide for at least a couple days. Then you can go on your way. But I can’t send you off like this. I absolutely refuse to. You look very ill.”

”No, it’s too danger—“

”First of all, my mother alway told me that it’s not wise to make decisions on an empty somatic. Second of all, I’m not sure if I can stand the smell of those clothes anymore. Neither can the dogs. It’s driving them crazy. There’s a water pump out back. You clean yourself up, and I’ll have something ready for the both of us once you’re done.”

* * * * * *

The house was mostly stripped bare inside. Janice explained that most of her furniture had been sold, including her television set, majority of her clothing seized the night my child was taken. Honey and Pepper followed us around, and as Janice pushed aside a bookcase and removed a false part of the wall, she nodded at me with sincerity. From her eyes I could tell that she had hid others here as well—the secret room was small, with a tiny bed, a table, and a pot for doing one’s business. She had managed to remove the chains bound around my feet.

The sensation of cold, rushing water against my naked body was heavenly, although several parts of my skin burned and stung as I scrubbed myself raw with a block of soap. Once I got myself dry, I slipped on the clean baggy sweatshirt and jeans that she had given me—a couple sizes too big, but comfortable. Janice burst out laughing out loud when she saw how they hung on me.

I devoured the heaping portion of scrambled eggs and ham on my plate, cramming every morsel in my mouth, chewing quickly. My manners were terrible, and I was shocked by the appetite I had. After I cleaned the third one all the way, she handed me a large mug of tea, which looked white and milky by appearance. When I took a sip, it was sweet; bits of ginger in the liquid.

As I stumbled down to the hidden room, Janice stood by the entrance. Her face was still, quiet, and she leaned against her cane for support. “When I tell you to that it’s safe to come out, you can,” she calmly said. “No matter what you hear, don’t make a sound. Nothing. You remain right here. I’ll check up on you in a couple of hours.”

I nodded. I think I said something else, but I was so drowsy that it must’ve sounded like foolishness to her. I weakly sank down sideways onto the soft bed, the mattress creaking under my weight, the pillow soft against my head. With my left hand, I drew the hood over my head, the sleeves completely hiding my hands except for my blistered fingers. In the dim light of the room, I managed to ask her the one question that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue for the last couple of weeks. She turned and glanced at me, standing at the entrance.

“What did she call him?” I whispered, my eyelids halfway open. “Tell me what it is.”

“Pardon?”

“The boy’s name. What did she name him?”

Janice remained still. Then, a warm smile fell upon her face. “Evander,” she softly replied. “She named him Evander.”

Evander. Evander. I tried to respond, to tell her that it was such a wonderful name. I knew my son’s name at last. But fatigue overpowered me, the room was cool and dark and safe as my eyes slowly closed.