The winds howled across the clearing, carrying the distant sounds of war—sirens, shouting, the sharp pop of gunfire. But here, where the broken road gave way to crumbling dirt and half-buried pylons, there was only the heavy beat of my heart.
Anthony and I crouched low, Evelyn between us, every muscle coiled tight as we waited.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty.
Every second stretched taut like wire ready to snap.
The sky overhead blurred from gray to a bruised purple. Clouds moved like smoke across the horizon.
Until finally, we heard the distant hum of rotors.
Anthony stood first, waving a strip of torn cloth tied to a rusted pole.
The black helicopter dropped from the clouds, sleek and silent but for the thudding roar of its blades. A wide cargo door opened along the side, and two men in dark flight suits leaned out, waving us forward.
"Move!" I barked, hauling Evelyn higher against my chest.
