They ran into the woods with all their might.

Macy waved her hand. " I… I can't." She slowed, visibly out of breath.

"Get on my back."

Macy hesitated before jumping onto him, her arms looped tightly around his shoulders. Tim gritted his teeth; his legs responded on instinct. He had no issue running distances. The extra weight wouldn't faze him.

After some time, he lowered Macy and collapsed onto the ground. His stomach faced the sky, though the trees blocked the bright stars. He licked his dry lips and rubbed his face.

"What do we do…" Macy rambled to herself, pacing around Tim. "We're fucked. I don't know… what to—Tim. What do we do?" She knelt and shook his arm.

Tim pulled his arm back weakly and turned his face away. His chest heaved, each breath scraping his throat raw. His lungs burned. His legs trembled, still twitching as though they hadn't realized the running had stopped.

"We can't stay here," he muttered, "If we stop, they'll catch us."

Macy froze at the word catch. Her eyes darted around the dark tree; every rustle in the brush made her squeamish. "Tim…" she whispered, "I swear I heard something."

A snap echoed through the woods.

Tim sat up fast, his hands digging into the dirt as he scanned the trees. He grabbed Macy's wrist and pulled her down low.

"Don't talk," he said.

They crouched in silence with the trees alive with sound. Wind pushed the branches overhead, but then came the slow, metallic footsteps.

Macy clamped her hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. Tim's mind raced. He pictured the masked faces of SCAR. Cold and deliberate.

Another crack, this time closer.

Tim swallowed hard and leaned to Macy's ear. "Hey, we move on three. Quiet. Stay low."

She nodded, trembling.

"One… two…"

The third never came. A flock of small birds fled from a bush. Tim inhaled and relaxed, assuring that they were safe.

Macy hugged her knees. "Tim, no one's here. It's just birds. A rabbit probably scared them off."

He shook his head hard. "We should keep moving in case. They're probably watching nearby footage, waiting for—Roger—" His throat caught on the name. He pressed his forehead against the dirt. "He's there. He's there."

Silence stretched. Macy opened her mouth, then shut it. She had no words.

Tim dragged his hands down his face. His palms were dirty with mud and sweat. He stared at them as though they belonged to someone else. Someone too weak to fight, too selfish to save anyone but himself.

In the distance, a branch snapped under the weight of the wind. Tim jolted upright with panic flashing in his eyes. But again, nothing came.

Just the empty woods.

And the guilt that refused to leave him.

Macy shook his body. "Tim, Tim, there's nothing we can do. We must keep moving."

"Where? I… I don't know."

"I will call a friend. He'll pick us up. I think if we go straight, we will end up at—uh—an intersection—maybe? Let's try to keep—oh God—Olivia and Anggie are there."

"You just realized that? They're all there." Tim whispered. He stood and faced the direction from which they had come. "Should we go back for them?"

"Tim, what? Why would we do that?" "They need our help. If we can talk to SCAR, then maybe—"

Macy abruptly cut off Tim. "There's no maybe. We will be apprehended the moment we show ourselves. All we can do is turn to God and pray that they are safe."

Tim shook his head with force. Praying to God? Macy used that phrase constantly. She attends church on weekends and devotes an hour of her day to prayer. She's the biggest believer he knows. At times like these, believing in God wasn't something Tim turned to. Instead, he wanted to act upon something rather than letting fate take care of it.

"We need to do something, Macy. I gotta save them. I gotta save… Roger."

"There is no saving anyone, Tim. C'mon, we must keep moving." She held her hand out and curled her fingers upwards.

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Tim accepted the help and brushed off the dirt on his pants. "Let's keep moving. Maybe I can call someone—"

"Already on it." She quickly whipped out her phone and calmly dialed a number before holding the phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me. No, I'm out right now. I… I have a favor to ask. Yes… yes… I'm aware. Can you track my location and try to pick me up? No, nothing like that. Ok, ok, yes. Thank you. See you soon." She hung up and smiled. "We will be ok."

"Uh, ok. Are we all set?"

She nodded with confidence, her face flipped a complete 180. "Yeah, we will be safe. They will be too." She didn't expand on the last part.

They walked through the woods with a small chatter. Tim carefully stepped over small, fallen branches and maneuvered around bushes. It reminded him of the outside world.

They arrived at a small intersection and waited. Macy checked her phone constantly, as though she were awaiting a phone call or text. On the other hand, Tim watched the roads as no vehicles passed by.

Well, all but one.

A dark SUV pulled up beside them. Macy greeted the driver by name and entered the vehicle. Tim followed in silence.

***

They arrived at a tall building in Ionia. Before the car stopped rolling, Macy hopped out in urgency. Tim stumbled and lost his footing on the curb. He caught himself and rushed to Macy.

But before he could close the gap, two bald men in identical black suits loomed in his path. Their veins pulsed across their foreheads like living maps. They shoved him back with stone-like palms.

"He's with me!" Macy yelled, rushing, and pulled Tim inside.

The elevator arrived with an echoing chime. The ascent was slow. No one spoke. Tim heard only the pounding of his heart. He wanted to ask Macy what exactly they were walking into. He didn't want to break the silence.

The elevator door opened with a ding.

A man with a smooth, beige suit with a glass of dark liquor welcomed them, leaning against his personal bar.

"Macy!" he greeted, stretching her name into two syllables as if savoring it. "I haven't seen you in far too long." His tone was warm, yet playful.

"Good to see you too, Rube. This is Tim, my friend. Tim, this is Rube, also known as Ruben. My older cousin. Anyways, Rube, I need help."

Ruben pushed away from the bar with deliberate grace. His cologne was sharp, and he extended his hand. "Although my younger cousin was gracious enough to introduce me, I do prefer to make the gesture myself," he said smoothly. "Ruben Brickford. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Tim met his hand. "Hey, I'm Tim."

Ruben's eyes narrowed just slightly. "You look oddly familiar. I can't place it, but I've seen your image somewhere before. Strange, isn't it?"

Tim nervously chuckled. This was the first time they had met, so he didn't know who Ruben was referring to.

"Anyhoo, Macy, shoot your troubles."

Macy took a deep breath before explaining everything. She went into detail about the graffiti and public intoxication. She freely mentioned vandalism and SCAR somehow appearing, causing them to scatter like roaches.

Tim wondered why Macy openly admitted to crimes. He remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt Macy.

"Public intoxication… vandalism…" he repeated, as though tasting the words. "And, of course, fleeing the authorities. A cocktail of minor sins. Tell me… has anyone been apprehended yet?"

She stepped toward him. For the first time since they'd arrived, she looked less like the bold girl who stormed past security and more like a scared child asking an older sibling for protection.

"No one contacted us yet. You'll help, though, right, Rube? I already prayed to the Lord. He will bless you and guide you to help us."

Ruben raised a hand, palm outward, signaling her to slow down. His voice softened but carried an edge. "Calm yourself, Macy. I am not a magician, nor a simple get-out-of-jail-free card. You must not expect miracles." He set his glass down with a sharp clink. "However," he continued, folding his hands together, "I will do what I can. I still carry weight in certain circles. If your friends are caught, I might secure their release… perhaps reduce their punishments to something survivable. A fine, community labor, maybe even probation. But SCAR?" He shook his head once. "They are not so easily bargained with."

Macy clasped her hands. "Just do what you have to do. I don't want them to vanish or get hurt. Oh God, please guide Rube and protect our friends."

Ruben leaned back against the bar, swirling his drink. "SCAR doesn't punish. They erase. A fine line, though important. If your friends were merely caught vandalizing, they'll pay a fraction and lick their wounds. But if SCAR decides their crime was an act of active protest or a threat… then… may God be on their side."

"That's why I'm here. You have strings to pull."

Ruben smiled faintly. "Strings, yes. But pulling them always tangles me into new knots. And knots are rather troublesome. Especially dealing with SCAR. Knots require cutting." His eyes flicked to Tim. "Which leads me to ask… why bring him?"

Tim straightened his posture, taken aback. "I'm just—here to help Macy. And… my close friend was there. I need to make sure he's safe.

Ruben's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to pierce through Tim, measuring him like a scale. "Ah… the loyal friend," he murmured."Loyalty is a rare currency these days. Risky, too."

Tim's jaw clenched. "I can handle myself."

"Can you? Or do you think you can? There is a subtle difference, you know. One keeps you alive; the other… well…"

Macy stepped closer to Tim, sensing his tension. "Rube, he's fine. Tim's… capable," she said, her voice firm. "He carried me into the woods when I couldn't run. He helps me a lot with my business courses, pretty much a free tutor. He's kind and always wants what's best for others. You can trust him, because I do."

Ruben nodded. "Very well. I will do my best. No promises. I do not want your hopes to be lifted." He took a sharp sip. "You two should head home and get some rest. I'll attempt to take care of things from here."

Tim silently sighed.

Roger was an outsider. He didn't belong here. If SCAR figured that out, there would be no strings to pull, no negotiations. They wouldn't see him as someone to bargain over. Tim's chest tightened. He imagined Roger trapped somewhere cold, silent, invisible to anyone who might care. Tim felt helpless, an intense guilt twisting at him. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. Ruben's voice continued to cut through the room, but Tim only caught fragments. He couldn't speak it aloud. How could he? He didn't want to inform the group about the situation. All he could do was stand in silence, hoping and praying everything would be okay.

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