Sakir

After Mya's break down, I make it a point to ensure she's walking beside me, not behind me. Our movements are much slower, but I can keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't crumble into nothing.

I understand her pain. I know how fragile she is right now.

Once, I was that way, barely ten years old standing in the yard of our school with Athena, waiting for Mama to come pick me up. Athena's parents walked up, smiled at me, ruffled my black hair, and then left with her. Still, I stood and waited, tapping my feet, humming the song I'd learned to memorize my multiplication facts.

Not long after Athena left, the sky cracked right down the middle, emptying a skyful of tears onto my small frame. I clutched my backpack straps and let the water drench me. When the sun started to set, I began to walk home, my concern growing stronger with every passing minute.

When I arrived home, no one was there. A note sat on the kitchen table, folded with reckless hands, uneven and messy.

At the hospital with Mama. Stay here.

Even then, I wasn't good at following directions. I threw my backpack down and sprinted across the compound, arriving as the coroners were leaving. They looked down at me from their black high horse and through half moon glasses made of glinting silver metal. With a shake of their head, the men pushed past me. Behind them, Papa stood in the lobby of the hospital with his arms wrapped around himself.

It was the first and last time I saw Papa cry.

The pain lived in the front chambers of my heart, rearing its ugly head when I fell to my lowest points. When I struggled, it grasped my wrists and jerked me further down into its Hell. I had Athena to distract me and keep me sane when the memories came back.

Mya doesn't have anyone.

We are two different sides of the same coin.

Yet, I feel her pain like it is my own. She is just a child, an injured, helpless child.

The forest around us becomes much more threatening as I accept the role of her protector. She trusted me with her life. I have to get her out of here.

Behind us, the dogs continue to bark, making me sweat.

They could be hounds, following our scent. We hadn't exactly covered our trail. How much of a head start did we have? How exactly did they know we were leaving? Unless Dr. Julien remembered she left the door open, they couldn't have known.

Maybe they were waiting. I know the president of Compound 2 used to listen in on our conversations, but with the old man long dead and Compound 2 leaderless, the age of eavesdropping was over. Did Ashford have taps all the way out here?

Mya trips on a branch, yelping and falling forward.

"Be careful," I snap, grasping her elbow. She mumbles a messy apology, dusting herself off again. Her legs are coated in mud and leaves, ravaged by the thorns of the woods. Blood beads along the shallow cuts.

As I look at the blood, dread knots in my stomach. I'm forgetting something important, but I have no idea what it might be.

I glance over my shoulder, feeling my pulse quicken. The barks come more frequent, low brays blending together.

"We need to cover our trail somehow," I blurt, walking on while I still clutch her elbow. She stumbles along behind me. I'm surprised they can't hear her every raucous step.

"Any idea how to do that?" she asks in a low whisper.

"Is there water nearby?"

"Again," she says, impatient. "Locked in my own home. I don't know if there's water here or anywhere."

I roll my eyes, holding an arm out to stop her. She clotheslines herself, gasping for air. We might make it out of these woods, if she doesn't kill herself first.

When she comes to a complete stop, I strain to listen to nature surrounding us.

Animals crashing through the underbrush, flitting from branch to branch overhead. A gentle breeze tugging at the ends of the leaves. Mya's steady breathing, a slow pant.

Then, in the farthest corner of my sense of hearing, I catch it- the whisper of water moving over smooth rocks and tumbling over natural ledges. The sound resembles a thousand hushed voices hiding behind the compound walls, the steady sound of dissent that holds the potential to turn into screams.

"There's a river that way," I mumble, pointing to our left. Mya's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Do you have super hearing?"

"No," I say with a chuckle. "I just know how to listen."

We begin walking again. Mya stays beside me, gradually learning to keep up as I quicken our pace. The ground slopes downward, and the rustle of the river turns into a dull growl. It appears below us like a mirage, muddy blue water cutting through the forest.

"We have to cross that?" Mya asks, eyes wide.

I nod, tugging her down towards the river bank.

"Do you know how to swim?" I ask, kneeling down and rolling my pants legs up. My bare feet blend in with the dark sand and rocks of the ground here.

"Seriously? Locked-"

"In my own house," I recite. "I know, but I thought- oh, nevermind. It looks shallow."

I glance over at her outfit. She's wearing shorts and an oversized wrinkled sweater. To be honest, she looks a lot like the homeless citizens of Compound 2, the unfortunate individuals that we feed through the community kitchen. Leaves stick out of her hair. Welts pepper her small face.

"Did you happen to pack any rope?" I ask in a small voice.

Even in the shallow water, she might get pulled away by the current. I'm responsible for her. The last thing I want to do is lose her in the water.

She shakes her head, reaching down and untying her shoes. She pulls them off, tucking them inside her backpack. It appears to be heavier than mine, and when she opens it, I catch a glimpse of what's inside. Books, a notebook, a yellow slip of paper, a small stuffed fox, and a comb lingers at the top of the pile.

Now, her shoes sit atop the rest of the random items. She closes the bag and puts it back on her back. When she reaches her hand out towards me, I take it and begin walking towards the swift moving water below.

As soon as I step in, I regret every decision leading up to this point.

The water cuts through my foot and ankle like an axe, almost bringing me to my knees. I suck in a breath of air, clutching Mya's hand.

"Is it cold?" she whispers, wrinkling her nose up at my reaction.

I nod my head, gritting my teeth and lowering my other foot into the water.

The ice drives needles into my bare skin, but the rocks underneath are smooth and steady.

Mya steps into the water, clamping her free hand over her mouth. Muffled yelps escape the barricade, and she shuts her eyes.

"Eyes open, kid," I groan, pulling her forward. "Wouldn't want you to trip and fall."

The movement across the water proves slower than walking across solid ground. The creek turns out to be deeper than my initial thought, and within ten steps, we stand in water up to Mya's neck. She clings to me by wrapping both arms around my abdomen. I hold my hands above my head, taking slow, shaky steps forward as the current threatens to pull us both away.

The opposite side welcomes us with inviting hands, and I drag myself up and out of the water with numb hands. Mya follows, laying flat on her back on the sun warmed ground.

I'm about to lay down beside her when the barking of the dogs breaks through the roar of the creek. The bushes that we came through bend at someone's approaching.

"Mya, up," I order, grabbing her now dripping backpack straps and pulling her to her feet. Her eyes focus on the commotion behind me, panic written in every golden streak. "Hide."

Neither of us can move fast, though. I'm still numb from the water, and I shiver uncontrollably as I pull us both behind a wide tree trunk. Mya sinks back down to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself. I peer around the tree just as the dogs and their holders break into the opening.

"Are you kidding me?" one of the men roars, throwing his hands into the air. "They went through the river!"

"Then we go around," the single woman with them says.

Four faces I could never forget line the shore. My kidnappers. Ashford's henchmen. This time, though, they carry heavy guns strapped across their chests, not small pistols and handcuffs.

"The track's lost," the one I know as Dan says. His face has healed since I broke his nose.

"It doesn't matter," the first man says. "We have to find them. You know our orders."

The next words that leave the woman's mouth jam themselves into my chest, shoving the air out of my lungs.

"We shoot to kill this time, not capture."

A/N: What do you think Sakir's forgotten? That seems random, but it's important later. 😉