We drove for hours. The mountains got higher, the roads got smaller, and the tension in the car got thicker with every mile.
Julian drove. Anna rode shotgun, her hand never far from her gun. David sat in the back with me, Mom curled up against his shoulder, still half asleep from the middle-of-the-night evacuation.
No one talked. What was there to say? Someone knew where we were. Someone close.
The sun came up slow, painting the trees in gold and orange. Beautiful and wrong, like everything else.
"Pull over," I said.
Julian glanced at me in the rearview. "We're not there yet."
"Pull over anyway."
He sighed but found a turnout. A dirt patch overlooking a valley. Killed the engine.
I got out. Walked to the edge and just stood there, breathing.
Anna joined me after a minute. "You oka
