"Clara!" I heard Roger's voice, but I didn't move to respond.

Sleep had come so easily after our talk. The second I made it back home, I crashed down on my pillows and drifted into dreams. There was an array of images, both realistic and not. I dreamed of my mother's smile, my grandmother's hugs. I dreamed of Xerses' embrace as we walked in the park. Then, within it all, I dreamed of Roger, but couldn't see his face.

I only heard him. He called my name over and over: Clara. Clara.

How long was it until I realized he wasn't a part of my dream?

"Clara!"

Finally opening my eyes, I stared into the darkness of my apartment and searched the shadows. What time was it?

"Clara, I need you to get up," Roger hissed in my ear as I rolled on my back and looked up at the ceiling. "I need you to move. Now." He barked the last word, so loud I sat up straight and knocked blankets on the floor. Something wasn't right. This wasn't normal Roger.

Reaching over for the sweater I'd thrown on top of my nightstand, I pulled it over my head. "What's going on?" I asked, hastily crawling to the edge of my bed to slip on my shoes. "Why are you yelling?"

He wasn't anywhere I could see. Powering on my smartwatch brought up his face, but he wouldn't look at me. He seemed distracted, eyes looking everywhere but mine. I tapped the corner of the screen to get his attention. "Roger?"

When he finally looked at me, his face was pale, and his eyes blue with static and numbers. His lips pulled up as he growled in frustration, and then, he said, "Someone's coming."

My eyes went wide.

What? Who? How?

I rushed over to my window, pulled aside the curtains and looked outside. The streets below were empty. "Is it the Hosts? The Province?" I looked back down at my wrist. "Did they find me?"

Roger's image vanished from my watch, appearing on my TV with a bright flash. His back was to me as he held his digital tablet in his hands, frantically scrolling through tiny images I couldn't see. "It isn't the Hosts or the Province," he said, still looking down at his tablet. "It's someone else. I don't know who they are. I can't detect them."

Someone he couldn't detect? That meant there was someone else not under the Province's control? Panic gripped my chest as I stood in front of the screen. "Where are they?" I whispered.

"Here." He turned around, giving me his full attention. With a flick of his wrist, he brought up a smaller image beside him. "They're in the building."

I stared up at the image he created and recognized it immediately—the stairwell outside my apartment door. There was a group of men, dressed in black and masked, standing in the video. They were huddled in at the building's entrance. There wasn't any audio, but I knew they spoke to each other; it was in the way they moved their hands, their heads.

I had no spit to swallow as one of them touched the lower apartment doors. "This... this is live, isn't it?" I whispered to Roger.

He nodded.

My hands formed nervous fists. "Can they find me in here?"

"They've already gone through two apartments. Approximately ten minutes in each one."

"Okay?" I wanted to vomit.

"They're not Hosts, Clara. They've got guns and old police gear."

"G-guns?" My eyes shot over to my front door. "How? Guns... guns are outlawed. Not even Enforcement Officers carry weapons..."

"Does it matter how they got them? No. Obviously, they don't care about the law of your Province. I need to find another place to hide you. I need you to move."

Flicking his wrist once more closed the box and he came closer, his face covering the entire screen. I couldn't argue with him. I moved, just as he ordered, but I didn't know where to go. According to camera footage, the men blocked the front exit. That only left the back way.

"When I unlock the doors—run." Roger gave me the simplest command I could follow. The second the front lock pinged, I grabbed the handle and turned it fast. I didn't pause to breathe. The sharp left I took sent my elbow into the doorway, a shooting pain up my arm, but I didn't stop.

Roger's voice echoed in my ear. "You've got two minutes before they come out. Take the first emergency exit."

The emergency exit was on the right, just at the end of the hall. My shoes skidded when I reached it and I nearly missed. Yet, I managed to grab the handle and pull, allowing the red warning lights from the building's alarm to flood the hall.

"Down the stairs. Make a left once you're out the back. The grocery store is our safest bet until I can find something else."

"Won't the store be obvious?" I panted and ran down the stairs two steps at a time. "It's a public place."

"Clara, I wouldn't put you somewhere I can't barricade."

The moment I pushed through the back door, cold air burned my exposed skin, attempting to seep through my clothes. But the adrenaline pumping through my veins kept me hot from head to toe.

With the rising sun as my guide, I turned left around the building, just like Roger said. I followed the path of dying shadows, down the streets I'd walk through every night. Muscle memory steered me, giving me more sight than my eyes ever could. The sound of my shoes hitting wet pavement echoed around me. My breaths followed quickly after each sound, like a somber song over the quiet streets.

I didn't stop running until I saw the store just a block away. That's when I fought to catch my breath.

"Roger," I panted, hands on my knees. He didn't reply. The silent echo of his never-ending static filled my ears as I stared at the store's front entrance. Wisps of snow blew in front of it as the dark interior suddenly came to life, one light at a time. Standing straight, I looked at every front window.

Light, light, light.

And that's when he spoke. "Get inside," he said. "The door is open."

"Did you..." ...turn on the lights? I thought the ending of my sentence as I slowly crossed the street. Snow slipped from under my shoe to the very tip, covering the laces on top. I looked down at it once and kicked it off. But when I looked up again, my eyes were wide.

The voices of men carried in the wind behind me.

"Move." Roger's voice was rough and frantic, but it made me push harder, faster. My measured walk turned into a run as I skidded the rest of the way, catching the store's door handle with one trembling hand. I felt the lock click under my grip. When it slid open, I stepped into the calm warmth and immediately ducked into the shadows near the registers.

The voices were followed by heavy footsteps.

"Where do I go?" I pressed myself up against a wall and waited for his response in my ear.

There wasn't one.

"Roger?"

"Wait," he hissed, and everything about me went silent. I held my breath, I kept still. Hell, I didn't even want to blink. I simply waited, as he instructed. It wasn't until my watch's face came to life that I finally moved my eyes and looked down. I could make out the outline of Roger's head on the small screen. "Clara?"

Lifting my wrist, I looked at his face. A million years passed before he smiled. "Everything is all right."

"Are you sure?" I couldn't smile with him. "I heard them. They were close."

"Not close enough," he said, shaking his head.

I took in one slow breath. "They didn't see me?"

He looked down, then left, then right; strands of hair fell over his forehead. "I don't think so." He looked at me again. "We still need to be cautious, you can't go upstairs. You can hide down here. There's plenty of space."

With one last look outside, I pulled away from the window and moved into the aisles. My heart hammered in my chest. "What do I do? Do I sit here and wait?"

Roger nodded, rubbing his chin. "Yes. I've got to go offline for a minute—"

"Wait, what?"

"—and see if I can detect anything. I need to know where those men have been, if they've logged into anything."

"You can't... you can't leave me alone."

Stopping center of the middle aisle, I pressed my back against the shelves. Cereal boxes fell into their spaces. Their quiet thuds seemed to echo throughout the store. "Roger," I whispered, covering my mouth to hide my frown. "You're ignoring me."

It took him a moment to look at me. Focused on the white space around him, he disappeared out of the screen for a minute, mumbling to himself. I couldn't make out what he said, but when he reappeared, I waited for him to explain. I needed him to.

"I heard you, Clara." He slid his fingers through his hair. "But I need to do this. If they've used anything at all, the Province would have their electronic trail. I can't protect you from dangers I don't understand."

I closed my eyes and let myself slide down the shelves to sit on the floor. "You can protect me from the Hosts because you know what they are..."

"Precisely, Clara. These are regular men, and I need to know who they are. So, can you listen to me? Do as I say?"

Nodding slowly, I opened just one eye to look at him.

"Good—" why was his smile so forced? ­­ "—I'll only be a minute."

♦

One minute turned into ten and ten turned into fifteen. Then twenty. Thirty.

I paced up and down the breakfast aisle, staring at the time on my watch. They said hours moved slowly if you stared at it; I felt like time was flying by way too fast. Still, I looked at the digital numbers for another minute before I decided I couldn't stand in the aisle anymore.

Venturing through the store, I passed the aisles with bread and baked goods. Looking over the packages on the outer shelves, I spotted the green mold beneath the plastic. The Province commercials still played on the LED TVs that hung overhead. They repeated how the food today was fresh, perfected, and prepared just in time for citizens to eat. Without the preservatives of the past, there was no shelf life. Most lasted a week, tops.

With no one replenishing the stores, it made me think—what were the Hosts eating? They were still human, right? Their bodies needed vital nutrients. So... how were they still walking around? I swallowed and buried my thoughts somewhere far in the back of my mind before they wandered away from me.

Next to the bread were canned goods, and after that were spices and dried herbs. I passed them both, keeping my head down, eyes on my feet. I counted the white tiles that made the floor until I reached the Home Furnishing aisle. There weren't many stores that carried everything—food, clothes, necessities—but this one did. The aisle itself wasn't much, but it wasn't like I needed an entire bed. I just needed to relax.

Making my way into the aisle, I snagged three pillows off the front section. One by one, I tossed them in front of me, dropped on top of them, and nestled one beneath my head. "Roger—" I lifted my wrist, so it was eye level. "—did you find anything? Do you know who they are?"

He didn't answer, not that I expected him to. I only hoped he would. Before he shut himself off, he'd said he would only be gone a minute. Not sure what kind of time he had in his digital world, but here, in reality, a minute wasn't long at all. And the fact that I was alone for nearly forty minutes made me nervous.

"Roger, you're lucky you aren't real. If you were, I'd slap the shit out of you." Laughing, I shook my head. "And you'd never see me coming, too. Remember, I'm small, fast, like a ninja. I'd just jump up behind you and wham!"

Wham.

Somewhere a box fell. I heard it. I froze.

My wrist fell slowly to my side. "R-Roger?"

No, it couldn't be Roger. How could he knock something down? Did the store have bots he could control? Probably. But I didn't think he'd purposely try and scare me. That's why when another box fell, I screamed and jumped to my feet.

"Shit." Scanning the aisle behind me, I tried to spot movement, shadows, anything. Only, it was just as still as the opposite end. And silent.

That is until a third box fell. I quickly took steps backward and tapped the scar behind my ear. "Roger," I whimpered, "someone's here."

The lights above my head started to flicker, and in my panic, I looked up at them. Right side, left side—one turned off while the other turned on. The defected rave didn't help my anxiety, because when I looked back ahead, lights danced in my eyes. The shelves felt like they were closing in. I took in deep, fast breaths as I stepped out of the aisle and hit my legs against a cart. A small box fell at my feet, but when I looked down at it, I heard a clutter of boxes fall nearby. The sound of rushing feet followed.

My legs bolted for the back of the store. "Roger!" I cried out, darting past Provincial carts and aisles now so narrow I couldn't breathe. "Where are you?"

Still, nothing. I reached the deli section and smelled more than warm coolers and spoiled ham in the air. Those scents weren't what brought tears to my eyes. It was the sound of shoes that slammed on the floor, echoing with that of mine; it was the shouts from one man to another:

"She's this way! I saw her!"

"Gotta grab her, man! Gotta put her out!"

No, please, I thought as I crashed into the corner of an aisle. The shelf dug into my sweater, cutting into my skin, but I bit back my cry. I needed to get out. I needed to go.

Panic told me to head towards the employee back entrance. I knew what Roger said, but it looked like my only option. I wasn't going to keep running and ducking into aisles. How long would that last? At least if I got upstairs, I could lock and bolt the doors. I could wait whatever this was out until he came back online.

"Hey!" A man shouted close behind me. "You! Stop!"

"No," I winced and pulled out what ninja skills I had left. I pushed forward until the door came clear in view; then I pulled back, so I slid the rest of the way. The sound of my screeching shoes hit my ears, but I didn't care. Reaching the door in seconds was my goal.

When my hand turned the handle to push it open, another man yelled, "Stop, you bitch!"

I didn't bother to look back as my foot hit the bottom step. If I hadn't stopped the first time, not sure how calling me names would make me stop now.

Kicking back the door to slam it shut, I continued up the stairs, two steps at a time. It wasn't until I reached the middle that the static returned to my ears. A part of me wanted to smile, but the rest of me said forget it and go.

"Clara!" Roger's voice seemed distant, broken, and detached. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"They're here!" I gripped the railing tight. "They're after me!"

His grunt echoed in my ear, but the sound was followed by so much static. I sucked in a cry. "Roger." I shook my head hard and forced myself to move. "I'm going upstairs."

"Wait, no!" Again, static. "There's nowhere to hide up there!"

I couldn't listen to his orders, not anymore. The door two flights below opened. The same man shouted at me again. I was just steps away from safety, away from the painted number '5' that beckoned me.

"Clara, wait, there's—"

"There's nowhere else to go!" I shouted as Roger tried to tell me otherwise. He couldn't stop me. Reaching forward, I grabbed the door's handle and pushed it open. My eyes squinted against the red sunlight that flooded in; it welcomed me, just as the cool, winter air did.

I nearly smiled as I felt safe, secure, but my mouth dipped into a cry as a hand reached out from behind me. It grabbed me.

"Clara!" Roger's yell echoed out of my watch's speakers. But what good was it? I'd lost.

That hand pulled me back, sending me through the door I'd ran through, against the railing that guarded the stairs. For a second, I saw stars, but there weren't enough to hide the tall silhouette of a man. He towered over me, breathing heavily. Even with the mask over his face, I could see the green of his eyes.

When I didn't move, his foot came up over me.

"Clara! I'm sorry!" Roger's voice cracked in my ear as I watched the massive boot come down on my face. The split second before it made contact, I squeezed my eyes shut and thought, Please, Roger, don't let them kill me.

As pain spread over my face and darkness over my mind, I swore I heard Roger's voice just once more. I lost sense of touch, of thought, but not of his words.

He said, "I'll kill them first."