They hurried through the cabin, loading everything they could into their backpacks and their bags. The goal was the eastern side of the island. Laureen snatched the torn piece of paper from her desk and tucked it into her bag. She had a lot of apologizing to do, especially to Amy, if that's what she wanted to be called.

"Are we ready?" Laureen ducked into the driver's seat of their bike and fixed her buckle. She sighed at the rows of silence that greeted her.

She turned to her team. "Okay, what I did was...wrong, to say the least," she said. "I shouldn't have driven Amy away from the cabin by giving her to Milton. I should have seen her as more than a relic, and well...it's still hard. Honestly."

Quid reached out and gave her hand a small squeeze. Maybe because of her wish to get through this job without breaking down, without having to call Jed and blubber like a despaired seal, and without going back to where she started, she tricked herself into thinking of Amy as anything but a child who needed her. In her aim to finish the job with flying colors, she became someone she didn't know, someone her teammates barely recognized.

That's the reason for the silence.

"We can't blame you, Doctor. You made the best decision you could, back then," Jas said. Stell could only nod in agreement.

How much of the story was the post-grad and the intern aware of? Laureen didn't know, but the small smiles they threw at her made it feel like it's something she could bear. She wasn't betraying Riley by choosing to save Amy now. Maybe her little girl would even be smiling from heaven.

Besides, it wasn't to claim Amy as Laureen's child. Far from it. They merely have to remove her under Milton's supervision. And if the University would use her to run inhumane tests to figure out her origin and how she was able to survive for thousands of years, they might trigger the rogue spirit in her and cause the end of the world. Worse, once they discovered Amy's potential and the control she exercised over the elements, they might use her for more...nefarious means.

Oh, dear. It's just like the movies, Laureen thought as they peeled off the cabin and sped through the undergrowth as fast as the bike's engines could take them. The journey was cut short with the exhilaration and dread curling in her gut. Within what seemed like an hour, the encampment of the east Cangabayi bled from the horizon. White tents gleamed under the influence of the late morning sun. It's lunch time soon, which meant the soldiers would be at their peak distractibility.

Laureen parked the bike a few meters off the clearing, eyeing the rising and falling waves in the distance. The wind was humid, making her skin sting by slapping particles of sand against it. She grabbed the boonie hat from her backpack and bundled her red hair inside. The clip bit against her chin as she tightened its hold. She wouldn't want to fly out of her head and ruin her poor attempt at a disguise.

Her teammates pulled their own disguises, with Jas exchanging vests with Stell in case the soldiers marked them on their first meeting. Quid was left to fend for himself with his usual plaid flannel thrown over faded t-shirts and baggy cargo pants. He ditched his moc toes for a pair of flip-flops, which he didn't seem fond of. A dark mask covered the lower half of his face and his entire neck. If not for the shock of curly hair, they wouldn't recognize the linguist.

It'd have to do, though. They didn't have much time. Even if Milton said they'd leave in five days, there's no assurance he'd fulfill his end of the deal. Exchanging quick nods, they peeled off the bike and descended into where the soil changed into silt. Their soles scratched against the low dunes disturbing the crabs and burrowing turtles this early into their day. The tents and bursts of smoke from the trucks' exhausts were the only signs of people milling inside the camp. With their luck, maybe they'd find it empty.

Laureen brushed the sand off her slick arms and fished a staff from her backpack. It's what she used in exploring, to tap at rocks and ceilings to make sure they're sturdy enough to walk over or under. It's certainly not to be used for what she planned it for in this situation.

The four of them split paths, with Laureen taking the immediate north. Quid's suggestion to use ANFO to "smoke the bastards out" nagged at the back of her mind. Because of the heartbeat thumping at the back of her head, she considered going back on her order and throwing the cursed powder herself. But she might scare Amy, and that'd be worse.

For now, they have to secure the target while staying out of Milton's senses. Piece of cake.

A trace of green and brown rounded the first tent Laureen ducked behind. Her staff swung, colliding with the side of the soldier's head. He didn't go down. Oh. These guys trained to not be knocked out. Great.

She swung again, but the soldier saw it coming and blocked her next swing by wrapping a hand on the end of the staff. Her world spun when he yanked it forward, bringing her with it. Her arm pressed against her back, his grip on them firm no matter how hard she struggled. She wouldn't go down like this. She had to get Amy back.

With bared teeth, she slammed her head against the soldier's nose. Something cracked against the woven surface of her boonie, followed by a pained grunt. The grip on her arm loosened. She drove her heel into the soldier's combat boots, doing her best to squash his toes underneath. He yelped and dove to cradle his injured foot. She lunged and retrieved her staff. On her next swing, the metal connected with the sweet spot on his neck. A thud against the sand. The soldier was out cold.

Great. One down.

A loud clang tore her attention towards the source. In the adjacent column of tents, Jas stood over another soldier, chest heaving. A muddy shovel rested on her hands. She gave Laureen a quick thumbs up before hurrying to the next tent. To Laureen's left, Quid and Stell clambered through the off-white canvases, disturbing the rooster's nest. That's all according to plan. They didn't all need to look for Amy. Others just have to distract people.

Laureen rounded another tent and came across another soldier. She aimed for his neck, and he followed his predecessor. It's great. She's getting the hang of this. Who knew bashing people's heads could be fun?

Ugh. Focus, Lau. She exhaled a brief but forceful gust and pumped her legs to go faster. The sand provided another source of drag, eating away at her soles with every step. Still, she trampled through it, going as far as making trenches into the briny beige surface.

Where could Amy be? They wouldn't leave a child in the truck, right? What about the tents? She strained her ears as she passed tent after tent. All of them contained deep voices and lewd conversations. Men, right?

Laureen emerged into what could only be the supplies area. Sacks, metal cans, crates, and a huge tent brimming with produce. Someone probably went out and gathered those from the forest. She stepped forward to check the next area when a clatter caught her attention. Somewhere beneath the tables was Amy, with her consistent blubbering as she munched on her snacks. Which meant...

Laureen rounded the first table and found Amy inside a tall crate with an open top and gaps in the walls. They're really going to ship her off like a trafficked animal? Unbelievable. What was she thinking, relinquishing the child to a place such as this?

She crouched in front of the crate and took hold of the wooden grates. "It's okay," she cooed when Amy started crying at the sight of her. "I'm here. I-I'm going to get you out, hmm?"

She straightened and searched her pockets for something to knock the wood down. A shadow fell over her. A large hand clamped down on her shoulder, freezing her in place. "Who says you have the authority to do that, Doctor?"

Milton's smirk looked almost devilish when Laureen whirled to the source of the voice. Amy wailed from inside the crate when he dragged Laureen out of the tent. "Seeing as how you came crawling back to the girl, you discovered something interesting, no?" he said. "Spit it out before I make you."

"You don't understand—" Laureen sputtered, her legs flailing and kicking sand as Milton hauled her through her butt. No matter how hard she clawed at his grip on her arm, it didn't budge. "It's dangerous to have the child in distressing environments. You don't want to trigger an apocalypse—"

She yelped when Milton perked up at the word and threw her forward. The sand baked by the morning sun dug against her wrists as she righted herself. " 'Apocalypse'?" Milton huffed in amusement. "You, madame, just made my morning interesting. An apocalypse? That midget will cause it?"

He gestured towards the crate. Amy's cries could be heard even in this distance. "That?"

Laureen glared at him despite the sun's rays stinging her eyes. "You don't know how to handle her," she said. "She can control the forces of nature, and with her being a child, who knows how that will manifest. Please."

Instead of relenting, a different kind of expression twisted Milton's features. "If that's so, then the General better hear of this," he said. "A freak of nature who can cause an apocalypse? Oh, it's a wonder!"

He started walking away, and out of desperation, Laureen lunged for his ankles. "Stop!" she begged. "Don't let anyone know about this! It's dangerous."

As an answer, Milton stepped on her arm. Pain streaked from her bones as he turned his heel, the hard ridges of his sole crushed her wrist. Tears escaped from her eyes, mixing with the sun in burning a trail down her cheeks.

When she didn't let go, Milton clicked his tongue and fished something from his belt. Her heart dropped to her feet when she heard the familiar click of the safety coming off. "Think of your next actions carefully, Doctor," he said. "You and I both have long ways to go in our career. Let's not waste it."

Laureen gritted her teeth and lurched up. Milton hooked a finger against the trigger.

The crate exploded.