A gentle hand shakes my shoulder, and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut as sleep clings to the corners of my mind and pulls.

"Don't tell me it's time to get up already," I mumble.

"Sorry, Walker, but uh, yeah, rise and shine," Lawrence says. Even though I've yet to open my eyes, I can hear the smile in his voice.

I force my eyes open, pushing myself up from the hardwood floor of the little shed we'd all slept in last night. I keep my blanket wrapped tightly around me as I reach to grab my clothes. They still weren't dry when I went to bed last night, so I had to sleep in my undergarments, something that wasn't usual or comfortable for me.

It's hard to get my clothes on while having blanket wrapped wrapped around me, and I nearly topple over a few times. It's only after I'm dressed that I drop it, quickly reaching into my bag to grab a compact hairbrush along with a toothbrush.

"Well, now that you're up and dressed, I've got two pieces of good news for you," He says with a grin. "One: We didn't die of hypothermia last night. Yay! Two: I have breakfast!"

I pause in brushing my hair, quirking a brow. He gestures out the door of the shed, where there's a fire going with his camping stove. Good thing he and Stanton thought to cook outside, since the shed is far too small for anything other than three sleeping people bundled up in barely dry blankets trying not to freeze to death.

I sniff the air, surprised to smell meat with the heavy scent of garlic. Lawrence's grin only grows at seeing the delight on my face.

"We're not so shabby at this wilderness lark after all."

"We were lucky," Stanton argues as I walk out and take the little swig of water from the flask in my backpack, using it to wash down my pill that I'd slipped into my mouth. Using my toothbrush and the smallest amount of toothpaste, I start brushing my teeth. "Lucky that when we built a fire we didn't attract anyone; lucky we could dry out our clothes; lucky to have found some shelter."

Lawrence doesn't let her sour attitude dampen his spirits. "Lucky that I managed to shoot this juicy game bird this morning?"

"Very lucky since you were actually aiming for the tree."

His face goes red, and I nearly choke on the toothpaste still in my mouth from laughter.

"Yeah," He coughs, not meeting my eyes as I rinse my mouth and put my things away in my backpack. "Stanton was giving me a bit of firearm's training. Thought it would be useful if I knew how to shoot straight... which apparently, I can't. But who cares? I hit this! Which means a breakfast of wild garlic and a pan-seared bird with big cream head feathers. That's what I'm calling it."

"I don't like being lucky," Stanton grumbles. "I like being prepared."

"And I like the idea of eating so we can get moving as quickly as possible," I say, watching as Lawrence uses the lid as a plate so he can give me a bit of the bird. I take it and begin eating immediately. We haven't eaten since we left Mullins Base yesterday morning. After everything that happened after that, I'm famished.

Lawrence uses another bit of unused cooking equipment to give Stanton some food before fixing some for himself.

"Hello, hello," Charlie greets through our ear. "What did I miss? Nothing exciting, I hope. I... Oh. The audio logs say... hmm. John turned traitor. The Burn must have got to him."

"Yeah, obviously," Lawrence huffs, his tone shifting. "Where have you been, Charlie?"

"It's complicated. I can't always be-"

"Charlie's your operator, isn't she? In Geneva?" Stanton asks, and we both nod. We told her about Charlie last night, mostly because she saw that we were worried since Charlie hadn't dropped in in hours. "And you and Walker can talk to her through that thing in your earlobes?"

We nod again.

"Then tell her to get going with her operating. We can't have another night like this. We need to get to actual shelter today."

"Her records say that John Adebayo was her most trusted colleague," Charlie reports, ignoring Stanton's snipe. "They've worked together for ten years."

Sympathy tugs at my chest as I look at Stanton. "Um, do you want to talk about what happened? With Sargent Adebayo?"

If looks could kill, I'd be dead. "No. I want to start walking."

She doesn't say anything more as we pack up, instead opting to watch with her arms crossed while Lawrence and I scramble. Once we're packed, we start walking. She takes the lead, walking a few paces ahead of us. We only walk for a few minutes before Charlie speaks up.

"Do you think she suspected at all?"

Lawrence pauses winding his pocket watch. "Stanton? Suspected John? Definitely not. Well, not until she actually, really suspected. Did you hear what he said? The Burn are working with that New Tomorrow group."

She sighs heavily. "Yes. We've... suspected that for a while, that New Tomorrow has been getting help. At first covert, but then it became increasingly obvious the Burn is helping them."

"And the Burn want what?" I ask with a raised brow.

"They want to stop you getting to Edinburgh with the devices you're carrying."

I roll my eyes at the obvious. "Is that it though?"

"No, but right now that might be the most important thing to them."

"And to us?"

Stanton glares at us over her shoulder. "Quiet! Someone's coming. The fire last night must have been spotted." She pauses to listen the quick rustling our right. "I think it's just one person. Be prepared to fight them-"

She doesn't get to finish before someone darts out from the trees. A flash of blonde hair and suddenly the air is knocked out of me before my back slams into the ground, and the woman who charged falls on top of me.

I open my mouth to scream as Stanton grabs her gun. The woman on top of me stares down with terrified green eyes. My eyes go wide, and the scream gets trapped in my throat.

"Jody?"

"Help me!" She pleads, trying to scramble off me but not seeming to possess the strength. "You have to help me. There're people in uniforms after me. Six people with guns! They're coming! Charlie didn't-Charlie didn't warn me!"

With that her eyes roll up and she collapses on top of me, causing me to let out a grunt. Stanton lowers her weapon, looking out from where the woman came from. I lay there, unsure if I should push the woman off of me or lay here limply like a dead fish.

"I see them, on the horizon, stalking by the edge of the wooded area by the lake," She says, and Charlie sighs.

"Yep. Six people." She sighs again as Lawrence finally steps up and grabs the woman's arms so I can shimmy out from under her. Once I'm standing, I grab one of her arms and put it around my shoulder and Lawrence does the same with her other arm. "Oh, Emma, why did you take your earpiece out you silly, silly girl?"

Emma. Not Jody. Of course. Right.

Right.

Stanton looks at us, and her eyes go to the small black box sticking from Emma's pocket. When she doesn't see an earpiece on her, she reaches into her pocket and pulls it out, putting it on herself. "Charlie, can you hear me?"

"Yes, well, I could always hear you. You just couldn't hear me."

Lawrence studies Emma, who remains unconscious, as we start moving, dragging her along with us. "If this girl doesn't want her box, can't Stanton take it? We can leave her a nice bedroll or something, and then when she wakes up, she can-"

"It doesn't work like that," Charlie says in a snippy voice. "The devices are bio-linked to you. If they get too far from your body, they'll self-destruct. They'd do the same if you died."

I don't like that she brought up us potentially dying. "Why would they do that?"

"Safest way to keep the carriers alive. The Burn wants the devices, meaning they can't actually kill you to get them."

"Though they could maim and torture them?" Stanton asks, and I pale at the thought.

"Ah..." Charlie trails off for a moment. "Yeah, that's true. I'm trying not to let them capture you at all. I wanted to keep you separate, but Emma decided I was leading her astray and took her earpiece off. She said she realized I wasn't me, and she's a bit-"

She stops when Emma groans, her eyelids fluttering. Bottle green eyes open and she looks around, her face scrunching in confusion before she starts frantically struggling in fright.

"Who are you?! Where are you taking me?!"

Lawrence and I immediately let her go, and she stumbles. Her eyes land on Stanton's gun in its holster, and she trembles. Stanton holds up her hands to show her she means no arm.

"Emma, don't panic. I'm Wing Commander Stanton."

She gets a glare. "Emma's not even my real name, you know!"

She nods. "I do. There are people chasing us. We have to get away, Do you understand?"

"Aren't you the people chasing me?" She shakes her head in confusion, before letting out a shout. "Help! He-"

Lawrence leaps forward and grabs her with one hand and wraps the other around her mouth. He forces her head to look towards the people that Stanton found. "Look. Look there, Emma. At the tree line. Do you see them, moving slowly and they're..." He squints. "What's that glint of light?"

Stanton's shoulders tense. "Sun's catching the lens of their binoculars. They can see us."

My breath catches in my throat, and immediately Stanton starts moving. I'm smart enough to follow. Lawrence lets go of Emma so he can do the same, and to our relief she doesn't start screaming like she did before. The people moving about seems to have convinced her we're not the bad guys.

Plus, Lawrence and I both lift our hair out of the way so she can see our earpieces. It keeps her from screaming, but she still looks anything but calm. Charlie did say she took her earpiece out.

But this means Charlie has been talking to her, me and Lawrence. How can she do that all at once? I know she has taken time where we were disconnected, but I thought that was for rest. When does she have time to rest if she's constantly looking over the three of us?

And that's if there is only three of us.

I keep looking over my shoulder, my blood pounding in my ears. They know where we are and they're coming after us. Adebayo must have found them and told them he'd been found out. He sent them our way. We let him get away and now he's sent these people after us!

It hurts to breathe, my chest so tight I can barely get in a single breath without stabbing pain.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Emma shouts, looking just as panicked as I. "I knew when I agreed to take this thing, I was signin' my own death warrant!"

To my surprise, Lawrence laughs. It's half genuine, half forced. "Do people actually sign death warrants anymore? Is that a thing? Is it the same as an order of execution?" He shuts his mouth with a click when Stanton sends a glare at him. "Sorry. Yeah, not the right time. It's just uh, I have mentioned how I ramble when I'm nervous, right?"

Emma turns to me, narrowing her eyes. I don't know what she's looking for in me, and I'm not sure I want her to find it. "Why are you listening to Charlie? You know she could be some other kind of terrorist, right? Or she could be with them, leading us into a trap. I thought I knew her, but she could be anyone. She fooled me. She's foolin' you!"

My lips part in surprise. Maybe I am short-minded, despite my small bits of paranoia and delusions, but I never thought Charlie could be someone I couldn't trust. Of course, I haven't told her I'm not who she thinks I am, but that's different. She's kept me alive so far, when everyone else has tried to kill me. That seems trustworthy enough.

But is it really?

"I'm not! I'm not!" Charlie shouts in offense, before huffing. "I knew it was a mistake when they decided to give one of the boxes to someone very familiar with conspiracy theories. I should have never given them Emma's details. Listen, ask her if I get you out of this, will she believe me then?"

Stanton doesn't do that, instead frowning in thought as we keep pushing through the trees and bushes. "Can you get us out of this? Realistic sitrep. Is it better to find a place to lie and wait and try to take down as many of them as we can? We're four against six. Not bad odds. And we've got two weapons: my side arm and... and Sargent Adebayo's."

"I can get you out of this," She replies confidently. "I have satellite images, infrared. I can see more than they can. They might be wearing camouflage gear, but I can track their body heat and... Oh."

A shiver runs down my spine as she says that, as if a cold finger is trailing along back. Dread fills my veins like poison as Lawrence stumbles out a question of, "What do you mean, 'oh'?"

"Checking my systems. It's not... no, it's not me. They're-they're using some kind of... heat masking clothing."

Stanton's current frown deepens. "And that means?"

"I don't know." She chokes in shock. "I don't know!"

"Stay calm. What's our situation?"

"I don't know! I can't see them anymore!"

•

No matter how fast I run, it doesn't feel fast enough. Each step, each breath, each beat of my heart that aids in pumping adrenaline in my veins keeps telling me I need to go faster, faster, faster-

Emma's hyperventilating.

"We're going to die here," She whimpers.

Two voices answer, both annoyed at her words of despair, although I can't really tell what expression Charlie is giving. I expect it looks a lot like Stanton's.

"No, we aren't."

She doesn't argue, but she doesn't look convinced.

I hop over the roots, rocks, folds and tucks in the ground to keep from tripping, my feet moving on their own accord. I'm not going fast enough. They're still too close. It's too much and not enough all at once and I want it to stop!

"I like the confidence, I really do, but what's the plan?" Lawrence stresses, panting as he tries to keep up the pace.

"Ambush," Stanton replies. "We're gonna find a good set up, and we're gonna wait for them."

I bite my tongue, holding back how much I don't like that plan. Stanton doesn't seem to realize that she is the only fighter among our group, and we are outnumbered, even if only by a few people. I can shoot a weapon. Growing up in the southern states of America meant learning how to shoot a gun. It's almost like a rite of passage. But I haven't shot a gun in years! And Lawrence so kindly demonstrated this morning he cannot aim if his life depended upon it, and Emma...

Well, I'm not sure about Emma, but considering how she looks like she might faint from fear, I doubt she is any kind of trained fighter or marksman.

"Okay," Charlie breathes out, "I can't see the people following you, not anymore. But I can see where they're definitely not. Just head straight into that clearing."

We don't, all of us screeching to a halt. I hold my breath, ignoring the burning in my lungs as I scan the camouflaged encampment, only allowing myself breath when I see there aren't any people in uniforms.

We stare in silence for multiple moments, but it's obvious what this is. This must be where those Burn members have been waiting for us. There are tents, makings of a low visibility fire, ropes and nets...

Knives.

But there's no one here.

Stanton steps forward first, her steps cautious. When nothing happens and the only sound is our labored breathing, she heads for the tents.

"This may be their encampment, but that doesn't mean we can't use their supplies to arm ourselves," She says, and she jerks her head towards us to get us to follow. Warily, we do, breathing heavily as we examine the area.

These people came prepared. There are tins of food, a water filter, newspaper clippings-one that talks about hope for Malaria C sufferers because of a company called Comansys-and a few books. Lawrence finds one that talks about some of the edible plants in the highlands...

Meaning they planned on being here for a while if they needed to be.

A gasp from Emma is carried through the air, over the clearing, and my brows furrow before my eyes go wide at the little label on it.

Cyanide.

I stumble back, and Charlie's words about us dying suddenly ring in my ears. It seems that the Burn members have thought about more than just our possible deaths. Just the sight of it, the thought, makes bile rise in my throat. It's bitter, painful, and I reel away from the others who are now worriedly discussing what they'll do now.

And then I hear ringing.

No. No, not now. Please not now.

I shake my head, but the ringing persists. It goes unnoticed by the others, but its sound is high-pitched, sharp, growing louder and louder with each passing second as if it's angry that I trying to ignore it.

But I can't ignore it, not as pain stabs through my head like someone's taken a screwdriver and jammed it into my ears. I grab my head, the ringing only growing louder, and louder.

It hurts.

I stagger towards the source. There's no escape from the hallucinations, and all I want is to end this sharp, stabbing pain-a pain that makes me open my mouth in a silent scream, a pain that nearly causes me to collapse when I find the ringing cellphone and answer the call.

I crumple to the floor, which has turned to an actual stone floor instead of the cool grass in the clearing. Dave doesn't seem to notice, instead sitting in a dark room in his small chair, where shadows seem to lick and swallow up as much light as possible. Only a single lamp is used, and it's just enough to give light to Dave in his seat.

"I can't keep doing this," I tell him, hoping, praying, that he'll hear the desperation in my voice, that I'll be able to get out of the prison of my own mind so I can focus on survival.

But he just starts talking as if he didn't even hear me.

"Deborah was the first girl I'd ever had a crush on. I was eight, I think. Maybe nine. Definitely at primary school."

A bit more of the room brightens, changes, and expanding. I see a classroom, where some of the children are playing inside as rain falls against the glass window.

"It's funny. I can still remember exactly how that place smelled. Our teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, she used to wear so much perfume. It was like she showered in the stuff!"

I sniff the air, wrinkling my nose at the scent of something floral yet bitter.

"Some of the kids used to laugh at her like-"

"What's Miss wearing that for anyway?" A little girl asks with a wily grin. "She's ancient!"

"Thinkin' about it now, she can't have been more than thirty, but the whole place stank of her perfume." Dave huffs out a laugh. "And Deborah was... she was so clever. She aced her times tables every time we had a test. I was good at 'em, but she was... she knew her twenty-three times tables! She told it to me once."

The classroom changes, to a little girl with curly brown hair talking to a child version of Dave.

"17 times 23 is 391. 18 times 23 is 414..."

"Dead impressive... The other kids thought she was a total freak, though. You know how kids are. I think maybe she was autistic. Children can sense that stuff. They're like bloodhounds for anything different. They're horrible little sods, all of them! And me worst of all because I should have stood up for her, but I was too much of a coward."

I frown. "Why are you telling me this?"

Maybe he hears me, or maybe he's just decided he wants to look at me this time.

"I was scared," He answers, his face twisting as he glances around, his eyes wide without any sense of recognition to where he is in this dark room, the school classroom having faded out. "I am. I'm really scared."

Click.

I drop the phone in the grass. "So am I."

It's over now. The pain stopped as soon as I answered the phone, although there is still a dull ache that pulses through my head, as if a warning for me to not do that again. I don't understand this. Usually, my hallucinations are about different versions of myself, living different lives through different stories, not... whatever this is.

I want to mark it up to stress because of what's happening, what I'm now a part of, but I don't think I can, not completely.

But it's over, for now, and so I head back to the others.

When they tell me the plan, I wish I had stayed over by the trees, even more so when they give me no time to object. Instead they send me out as a way to lure the Burn members back to their camp. Their words of affirmation give me no comfort, and I find myself cursing Stanton for choosing fight over flight.

My seething thoughts are put to a halt a few minutes into my traipse across the open when Charlie's voice comes in.

"They're on you. I see them turning to follow."

I blanch despite the words of praise that Stanton gives me moments later.

"Oh, and uh, Walker," Lawrence pipes up, "be sure not to stand in the middle of the open area between the tents, okay?"

"Okay," Is all I manage to get out, my entire body tense with fear. I pray they don't try to shoot me. While Charlie said it would destroy the boxes, it didn't stop the Burn members in Inverness from shooting at me and Fiona.

"We'll finally have some of these bastards," Stanton murmurs. "Then we can see what they're planning."

I keep walking, turning on and heading back to camp. My steps are quick, but not quick enough to be a run. I gasp shakily when someone calls for me.

"Hey! What're you doin'?"

My heart pounds as I make it back to the campsite, stepping quickly to my left around the tents instead of going between them.

"Hey, this is our campsite, you know!" A woman shouts. "You can't just-"

I turn to see the woman and man just as the trap unleashes, a rope and net falling on them as Stanton and Emma both leap out to hold the nets and keep them from moving.

I simply stare. Wasn't there more than just two people before?

"How'd you like that, aye? Terrorist scum," Emma sneers. "Trapped in your own nets that you were gonna trap us in."

Lawrence sucks in a sharp breath, looking unsure. "Uh, they're-"

"You're goin' to tell us everythin' you know, or it'll be the worst for you. Why are you in these woods? Why are you followin' us?"

The woman stares at Emma in shock, glancing at the man beside her who seems equally as confused, before her expression morphs into anger.

"We're not terrorists!" She shouts. "We're bird watchers, you mad wee lassie!"

She chokes. "Oh."

•

"Honestly, we-we really can't apologize enough," Stanton stammers, looking positively mortified. "It's just that with all that's happened in Inverness, you know it's uh-"

The man, who'd introduced himself as Gregory after we'd gotten the nets off them, nods. "Aye, we'd not heard about that. Good to know we'll be walking home, aye?"

His wife, Julie, nods. "We've been out here for three weeks, you see, waiting for the Slavonian Grebe. No radio, and the phone we have doesn't have service. Wouldn't use it if it did. Don't want to startle the bird."

"A beautiful rare one, it is. Cream colored head feathers, a picture."

Lawrence blinks. "Cream colored?"

"We've used these thermal suits to mask our body heat, to try to conceal ourselves," He explains.

"And the camouflage gear? And the binoculars?" Stanton sighs. "Yes. Emma's a little jumpy, I think, and uh, we took her word that you'd been following her."

I understand why Stanton has to pin this on Emma. There were Burn members following us, but we lost them, and assumed they'd found us again when we came across these guys.

"But why'd you have cyanide in your bag?" Emma frowns. "What possible explanation could there be for that?"

Julia tsks and sends a look to her husband. "I told you that box would get you into trouble one day. It's for bugs, beetles and butterflies. No rare ones, of course, but it's the humane way to kill them. For display."

Gregory nods. "Pretties up the colors a treat, it does. Not many people use cyanide for that anymore, but I kept my dad's old preserving box."

"Of course, that isn't what we're really after. It's the Slovenian Grebe. Only twenty breeding pairs in the whole of Scotland."

"Only twenty, huh?" Lawrence asks, picking at his fingers. "And um, uh, do you have a picture?"

She immediately pulls out a picture and hands it to him. "It's pretty, isn't it? That blue plumage, cream feathers around the eyes."

He grimaces. "Yeah. Might be um, nineteen breeding pairs now."

Gregory raises a brow. "Oh, do you know it?"

"Uh, in a way. You might say that me, Walker and Stanton all know it pretty well."

Stanton's brows furrow, and she leans over to whisper to him while Emma peppers the couple with more skeptical questions. "What are you talking about?"

"Remember that bird with cream head feathers we had for breakfast this morning?"

My jaw drops, a chocked noise rumbling from my throat. "No."

He cringes, but nods. "I didn't know. I've kept some of the feathers. We could them to them."

"Tomorrow morning," Stanton replies. "After we leave."

"What are you whispering about there?" Gregory asks, although he doesn't give us a chance to answer. "Are you folks hungry? We have enough food to make you all lunch."

Lawrence swallows. "Yeah, that'd be-yeah. Thank you. Thank you so, so much. And sorry."

I let out a breath. "Yeah. Sorry... for everything."

A/N: Here you go, guys! Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!