We argue our way around Roxborough as I search for ATMs and slowly drain my account. Eight hundred dollars. Kitty offers to get money out too. I refuse. We argue at a sporting goods outlet where I buy Aiden a change of clothes. We argue at the Daisy Chain Motel, our raised voices bouncing off the faux wood-panelled walls as we take in the stained and pockmarked ceiling and frayed polyester comforters on the sagging twin beds. It’s the limit of my budget for a clandestine hideout post-felony and the first place I tried. The simple fact they didn’t ask for my ID makes it the right place.

Pins and needles stabbing with aggravation, I’m exhausted by the time we pull up at the station, Kitty still arguing to stay. The time on the dash reads five-fifteen – only ten minutes until the next train back to Burton. I want her home in time for dinner, to avoid suspicion and field calls from Miriam.

Kitty won’t quit.

“Enough!” I thump my hands on the steering wheel. “Can you please just stop? I’m in trouble as it is. If I let you stay – can you imagine what Jamie would say about it?”

“I don’t care what Jamie thinks! Aiden isn’t going to hurt me. I want to do something and you need help. You’re barely holding it together.”

“What?”

“You haven’t stopped shaking since we said goodbye to Aiden and you keep holding your head.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up!”

“Aiden’s right. What if you get hurt? If he’s going to be unconscious or whatever, who will look after you?”

“He’s not going to be unconscious! Fretizine–”

My cell starts up and the caller ID warns it’s Miriam. Kitty leans away like I’m holding a grenade, her lips pulled back. Suddenly woozy, I answer the call. “Hi, sorry. I was about to–”

“Where are you?” Miriam demands.

My palm gets slick, the phone slippery, my ear hot beneath the receiver. “I’m at the library with Kitty.”

“You’re grounded.”

“The French Revolution doesn’t know that. I didn’t get any homework done this weekend, as you know, and my history teacher’s on the warpath.”

“You have a laptop and internet access.”

“We have to use proper reference books; it’s part of the assignment. I was lucky to change classes this late in the semester. I don’t want to make her mad.”

“Put Kitty on the phone.”

Kitty hears Miriam’s strident voice and grimaces as she takes the phone. “Hi, Miriam. Evie filled me in about–”

“Are you at the library?”

Shrinking in her seat, she fixes desperate eyes on me and I mouth, stick with the plan. “Of course.”

“Studying the French Revolution?”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t take history.”

I squeeze the steering wheel.

“That. Is. Also. Correct,” Kitty says. “I am here for – for Economics.”

“Economics?” Miriam fills the word with suspicion. “Which you require proper reference books for.”

“Yes.”

A harrowing pause.

“Put me back on with Evangeline.”

My full name.

“Yeah?”

“I will be at Emilie’s tonight to go through the layout of …”

I don’t hear what the layout is for, my brain nearly dissolves with relief. She’s going out. She’s going out!

“You will call me from home at nine-thirty.”

“Fine.” I make it surly.

“Knowing Em, it’ll be a late one for me.”

I could cry. The universe wants me to help Aiden. “I won’t wait up.”

“And what’s Jamie doing tonight?”

I leave a gap, just enough to let her imagine it filling with my contempt. I’m too grateful to be really mad at her lack of trust. Clearly, I’m not trustworthy, but I make my voice hard, “I don’t know what Jamie’s doing tonight. Maybe you should call him and ask.”

Her sigh crackles in my ear. She says she’ll leave me to it, I say something like good luck with Emilie. When the phone clicks off, Kitty and I sit there staring into the dark.

“She won’t be home then?” Kitty finally says. “Lucky.”

“You have to go.” I say it soft but certain, no pleading in my voice. “I need this time to map the route through the reserve.”

She doesn’t look at me as she says, “I never hated him. I knew that before we came. I won’t lie, I was afraid. I thought I’d fill my pants or empty my stomach right there on the floor or something. But seeing him like that, hating himself, willing to die … It makes me furious how these people have screwed with our lives. I can’t stand it.”

I manage a small nod. “You still have to go.”

Her mouth curls down, the first sign of concession. “Tell him I’m not afraid any more.”

“Okay.”

“Tell him he deserves to live – I want him to live.”

“I will.”

She grabs me to her, a hard hug, all clashing collarbones. “Promise me you’ll be careful and don’t die and please eat something.”

“I will.”

“You have to keep me posted or I’ll be freaking out.”

“Thank you for the car and for today. You’re the bravest person I know.”

She pulls away, puckered brow, tears glistening. “Love you.”

I think I say it too as she pops the door, cold air flowing in, the bustle of the station, my ears roaring with adrenaline. I put the car in reverse, watch her make her way to the kiosk and slowly accelerate away. It feels like an ending. From here it will all be different. Who I am. Who everyone believes I am.

FELON

I skid to a halt in the thick dark of the reserve, my vision fully adjusted for a moonless overcast night, and vomit at the base of a tree. Splatter steaming in the freezing air, 7-Eleven pizza and a box of chocolate milk. I’ve had too much time to think and plan, doubt and terror making it impossible to keep food down; the messages backing up on my phone, even more so.

I wipe my mouth, resettle my pack and start running again. I can’t think about Miriam now. It’s midnight. She’ll be home. Losing it. Planning my slow death. She won’t notify Affinity; I know that for sure. She won’t come out here to look for me, it would be too incriminating an act; something they could Harvest and accuse her of being a party to. Not that Miriam’s a coward. Clearly, not a coward. She just won’t want to make things worse for me with them.

It makes me shiver, the thought of it all coming out. Thankfully, the combination of running at speed and the prospect of becoming a felon keeps my adrenaline pumping, my core temperature up and the pins and needles in my spine at a low buzz.

I’m not looking forward to what I’m about to do, but it’s a relief to do something. I know where I’m going; I’ve run the route three times already. I know Aiden’s room is on the second floor of the north wing and they don’t lock the dorm. I know the night patrol is minimal. But that’s it. There are too many variables I can’t predict. Action is better. Clarifying. Besides which, it’s going to be a smash and grab and I’m counting on ensuing bedlam to work in our favour.

My pack bounces on my back and as the black of the forest grows lighter between the trees, I slow to a civilian jog. I stop where the trees end, taking in the sight of the minimum-security unit. Despite the distance I’m able to make out the corner of the visitors alcove where Kitty and I sat, trying to argue Aiden into agreeing with the plan.

I drop my pack and check my hair is fastened, tight and flat against my head. Raising my arms puts strain on the bindings across my chest, an attempt at desexing, in order to appear less female for the security feed and potential guards. I check the pockets of my vest. A needle in one compartment. A vial in another. A short-handled knife – not for use on people.

Jittery, I yank the balaclava from my pack and pull it down over my face and finger my way into Miriam’s black microfibre gloves. In full kit, I’m darker than the night. I don’t bother hiding my pack – there’s no one as crazy as me out in the woods. I take one deep breath before I start across the frozen field, reaching into the ether to see if I can find Aiden’s signal. Static, lots of static, but something familiar behind it. I’m still too far away for a clear reading.