It feels like I'm repeating a specific part of my life. The idea of it, anyway. Just a week ago, I was out here camping with Mum and Maisie. Now I'm doing the exact same thing but with Josh.

The morning, like always, is cold. The silence around is peaceful in its own way with the occasional bird chirping out a morning song. When I peer out of the tent, the light is blinding, so different to last night when I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face.

I remember last night. We slipped through the gates again and gathered my things. Then, we began walking and walking into the night and his hand found mine, warm and strong.

We pitched the tent. I'd been so used to doing it and once all those days ago I did it alone on the other side of the fence. Now I have Josh with me. The two of us against everyone. In its own way, it feels right.

Then we lay down to sleep, sharing a few sneaky kisses. It made me feel warm, warmer than I had ever felt in my life. For once, I didn't feel alone.

Josh's eyes peer up at me from the top of his blanket to where I am, snuggled up on the floor. They don't move, just stare, silent, unmoving.

"Hey," I whisper. "Morning."

Slowly, he lifts his head from underneath the sleeping bag and I keep watching him as he crawls his way over to me, still wrapped up in his cocoon. Then he lies down next to me and zips open the bag all the way, inviting me in.

I huddle close to him, head under his chin, wrapped in his loving warmth. His thumb brushes my palm, drawing little circles and sending delicate shivers up my spine.

This, I realise, is what I've been longing for.

"Well," he murmurs into my hair. "We escaped."

"Yup," I say back. He pulls me closer.

"I'm glad you came all this way with me," he says after a while.

I blink into the soft fabric. "You know what? Me too."

He smiles and then leans forward, lips brushing mine. All of a sudden, after that one kiss last night, it made everything start. It unleashed the hunger and longing for him I never knew I had. For all this time, it had just been a kiss away.

For the whole morning, I think about it. I think about us and where we're heading and whether we'll ever stop. But then I like this moment, I like this 'now'. I don't want it to end. Not really.

The others cross my mind a few times. I wonder how they're coping. I wonder if they're worried about us, searching the Camp for us. I wonder if they know about the whole truck thing.

I will tell them, I think to myself. I'll tell them when their time comes. For now, it's just me and Josh. That's all that matters.

We don't do much that morning or that day, anyway. We're not moving, because we're far enough from the Camp already. Any more distance and it will be hard to get back.

Today is the day Josh was meant to be taken away on that truck. Tomorrow is Angie and her brother. The next is my parents. I wasn't sure why Maisie wasn't on the list but soon realised the reason. She doesn't have the Power, so that means she won't be executed.

I huff out a sigh of relief.

Night falls quickly. It surprises me how fast a day goes by. Josh is still alive. That's all that matters.

Morning again. Josh is up already, making coffee, so this time I don't get my morning tent kiss. But he gives it to me outside, long and sweet, his lips tasting like strawberries.

For a while to pass the time, Josh reads. He sits on one side of the tent, nose stuck in the book and occasionally he'll poke his head out and read me a poem out of the blue. So far, my favourite has been 'The Naming of Cats'. A funny little poem. Then he pulls something out of his bag. A small plastic device that looks like a small brick phone but with only two or three buttons.

"What's that?" I ask, interested.

"A recorder," he says and he flips the page of the book to a certain one.

"Why?"

He pushes a button down on it. "I'm going to record myself"—he presses another button. The machine beeps in response—"saying a poem."

"Why?"

"I like having a record of it." He glances at me. "You never know. I could become someone who records for audiobooks."

I watch as he pushes more buttons, then takes another glance at me. Then, he begins to read, speaking softly into the speaker that's picking up his sweet voice. The way he reads, voice going up and down at all the right moments, makes me want to curl up and listen forever.

He stops. I open my eyes, wondering why that soft gentle voice of his has been put on pause. He shuffles forward and closes the book now, resting it and the recorder gently on the pillow he was using as a seat.

"I'm just going to the loo outside, okay?"

I nod and he plants a kiss on my forehead before slipping out of the tent. I wait until he's gone to rub his saliva from my forehead. That was a sloppy one. After that's done, I sit there, silently registering the tent around me, filled with blankets and a few water bottles and one occasional lost sock with no partner.

But one thing catches my eye. It's the book sitting patiently, almost as though it wants to be read.

I want to see that poem again. 'The Naming of Cats.' I want to read it, see the words in front of me. I'm sure Josh wouldn't mind. He'd probably be pleased I was taking the time to enjoy the poetry he loves so much.

I edge forward and take the book. It feels good in my hands, square and sharp and exact. It feels like it knows its place, where it stands. I don't. I'm hovering around in uncertainty.

I open the book to the first page, right next to the inside cover. In print, there's a line that says 'This book belongs to' and then a space for you to write your name. I see Josh has written his name, full name, elegantly, carefully, like he doesn't want to ruin a single letter.

I almost skip that first bit. But then something clicks in my head. The writing. The handwriting. I've seen it from somewhere. I've seen the name Joshua Middleton written by that same hand somewhere else. Five seconds later, it comes to me.

On that page Josh showed me. The page with the handwritten names and the truck number.

No. No. I won't believe it. Frowning, I close the book and rest it back on the pillow. It can't be. Josh can't have written that page. He said he found it in Sarah's tent, didn't he? But can I really believe him? I've got proof here that he was the one who wrote that.

Heart thumping, I scrabble round the tent for the pair of trousers he was wearing that night. I yank them out from underneath his rucksack and dig into the pockets. Then, when I have it, I whip out the page, smooth down the creases quickly, and look at the writing.

It's exactly the same. Josh wrote that page he showed me at the campfire.

Josh wrote his own death sentence.

But why?

A sound outside. I jerk my head up, expecting to see him coming in but it's not. That makes me realise. He's going to see me holding the pages like this and he's going to guess. He'll know I know.

But why would he lie to me?

Why would he keep it a secret from me?

I can't dwell on those questions. There's only one thought running through my head. It's the day. Angie and Zach. Truck number eleven.

It's their, um... execution day today.

It still hurts to say that word.

I have time, I tell myself. I have time to reach them. I have time to get away from here. Hopefully Josh will take a little longer because I can't waste any more precious seconds.

I yank my rucksack from the pile of junk and start stuffing my clothes back in. One peek inside tells me the gun is already in there, so is the lavender deodorant. Now I think a few more things should be added.

In goes the poetry book. In goes the recorder.

I don't know why I do that. But it's instinct. I toss the bag onto my shoulders. It feels heavy but I don't care. I need to get away from here, from Josh. I need to get to Angie. To Zach. They need me. They don't know.

I take one last look at the tent before I duck outside. The trees rustle but I don't see any sign of Josh—he's probably behind a bush or something.

Then I see him. He's walking this way. Sees me. Frowns. Then opens his mouth. Even I can see his confusion from a mile.

"Amelia!" he shouts. "Where are you going?"

He says something else. It gets lost in the wind in my ears. Feet pounding now, kicking up grass.

"Amelia!"

I run. Do the thing I do best. Running away. And I don't turn back.

Here was a nice long chapter for you guys. :) Please comment and tell me what you thought of it.