The ground gave way in a narrow line, more a hidden trench than a collapse. One moment they were moving forward, the next the earth shifted and bodies dropped with it. Charles felt the jolt up his injured leg before he even understood what had happened. He lost his footing, slid down loose soil, and hit hard at the bottom. The air left his lungs in a rush that made everything go white for a second.

Voices came back first. Shouting above, below, too close. Someone had set it up to funnel them in, to break their movement and keep them contained. It worked.

“Stay down,” Yiannis’s voice cut through, sharper now, closer than Charles expected.

Charles pushed himself up on one elbow, vision still catching up. There were three of them in the trench. Maybe four. Hard to tell in the dim light. One wasn’t moving.

“Your leg,” Yiannis said, already crouching beside him.

“I’m fine,” Charles answered automatically, even as he tried to stand and felt it give under him.

“You’re not.”

Another shot cracked overhead, followed by a burst of dirt from the edge of the trench. Whoever had set this wasn’t in a hurry. They were controlling the space, picking them off when they tried to climb out.

“We can’t stay here,” Charles said, breath uneven.

“I know.”

Yiannis glanced up, measuring something Charles couldn’t see. Then he reached for him without hesitation.

“Can you move if I pull you?”

“Try it.”

Yiannis hooked an arm under his shoulder and hauled him up. Charles bit back the sound that wanted to come out, forcing weight onto his good leg. It wasn’t clean, but it held.

“On my count,” Yiannis said. “We go left, not up. There’s a break in the side.”

Charles nodded, though he couldn’t see it yet.

“One. Two—”

They moved on three. Fast, low, pushing through loose soil and broken roots. Another shot followed, closer this time, scraping along the edge near them. Charles ducked instinctively, nearly losing his balance, but Yiannis kept him upright.

“There,” Yiannis said.

Charles saw it then. A narrow cut in the side, not obvious unless you were right on it. Just wide enough to squeeze through if you didn’t hesitate.

“Go,” Yiannis urged.

Charles didn’t argue. He shoved himself forward, dragging his bad leg behind him, forcing his body through the tight space. For a second, he thought he might get stuck. Then he was through, rolling onto uneven ground on the other side.

He turned immediately.

Yiannis came after him, slower, covering the movement of the others behind them. Another figure tried to follow, got halfway up before a shot caught them mid-motion. They dropped back into the trench without a sound.

Charles flinched.

Yiannis didn’t look. He pulled himself through the opening and grabbed Charles’s arm again.

“Move.”

They didn’t stop to check who made it out. There wasn’t time for that. The structure of the ambush was clear now. Trap, divide, finish. Staying meant getting caught in the next step.

They pushed forward into thicker terrain, trees crowding closer, ground uneven enough to break line of sight. Charles focused on putting one foot in front of the other, letting Yiannis set the pace. His leg screamed with every step, but stopping wasn’t an option he could consider.

They ran until the sounds behind them faded again, until even the echoes of it felt distant.

When they finally slowed, it was gradual. No signal, just the body giving out where it could.

There were fewer of them now. Again.

Charles leaned against a tree, breathing hard, head tipped forward. Sweat and dirt clung to his skin, mixing with the faint metallic scent that never quite left anymore.

Yiannis stayed close, scanning the surroundings before letting himself settle even a little.

“Sit,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“Sit anyway.”

Charles didn’t have the energy to argue this time. He slid down against the trunk, stretching his leg out in front of him. Now that he wasn’t moving, the pain settled in properly. Not sharp anymore. Deep. Constant.

Yiannis crouched in front of him, hands already checking without asking permission.

“Nothing’s broken,” he said after a moment. “But you tore something.”

“Good to know.”

“You won’t be running on it again. Not like that.”

Charles let out a dry breath. “I wasn’t planning to make a habit of it.”

For a second, Yiannis almost smiled. It didn’t last.

“You need rest,” he said.

“And you need people who can actually move,” Charles replied.

Yiannis’s gaze lifted to his, steady.

“I need people who don’t give up halfway,” he said. “You’re still here.”

“That doesn’t mean much.”

“It does right now.”

Charles looked away, not entirely convinced, but too tired to push back.

“What about the others?” he asked after a moment.

Yiannis shook his head once. “We keep going with who we have.”

Charles nodded slowly. He’d expected that answer. It still didn’t sit well.

Silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t the same as before. Something had shifted. The distance felt smaller now, worn down by what they’d just come through.

“You keep doing that,” Charles said suddenly.

“Doing what?”

“Acting like this is normal.”

Yiannis leaned back slightly, considering him.

“It is,” he said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

Charles met his gaze again, something restless underneath the exhaustion.

“You don’t react,” he said. “Not really. People die and you just… move on.”

Yiannis’s expression didn’t change much, but something in it tightened.

“If I stop every time, we don’t move at all,” he said.

“So you just don’t feel it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what?”

Yiannis looked at him for a long second, like he was deciding how much to say.

“I feel it later,” he said finally. “When it’s not going to get someone else killed.”

Charles held that, turning it over in his mind.

“And does that work?” he asked.

Yiannis didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was quieter.

“Sometimes.”

Charles huffed a soft breath, not quite a laugh.

“That’s a terrible system.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The forest around them stayed still, the kind of stillness that could mean safety or something waiting.

Charles shifted slightly, testing his leg. It held, but barely.

“You said earlier,” he began, hesitating just enough to notice. “About people not holding steady like this.”

Yiannis’s attention sharpened a fraction. “Yeah.”

“What did you mean by that?”

Yiannis looked at him, really looked this time, like he was lining something up in his head.

“Most people break,” he said. “One way or another.”

“And I haven’t?”

“Not yet.”

Charles frowned. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

Another pause. He almost dropped it. Then didn’t.

“You talk like you know me,” Charles said.

Yiannis’s jaw shifted slightly, like the words landed where he expected them to.

“Maybe I do,” he said.

Charles straightened a little, ignoring the pull in his leg.

“From where?”

Yiannis didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flicked past Charles, scanning the trees again, then came back.

“Later,” he said.

“That’s not—”

“Later,” Yiannis repeated, firmer now.

Charles stared at him, frustration cutting through the fatigue.

“Stop doing that,” he said. “You don’t get to decide when I—”

A sound cut him off.

Not distant this time. Not uncertain.

Close.

Too close.

Yiannis was on his feet in an instant, hand already reaching for his weapon.

“Up,” he said.

Charles didn’t argue. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain, heart kicking back into rhythm too fast.

They both turned toward the same point in the trees.

Something moved there. 

The movement in the trees wasn’t sharp like a person trying to hide. It was heavier than that, uneven, like something dragging more weight than it could carry properly. Charles felt his body tighten before his mind fully caught up, that instinctive pause right before decision turns into action.

Yiannis shifted half a step in front of him without looking back. Not dramatic, just automatic. Like he’d already decided where Charles needed to be.

“Don’t move,” Yiannis said quietly.

“I’m not,” Charles replied, though his grip on balance told a different story.

The shape came closer. Not rushing. Not cautious either. Just steady, as if it had already picked its path and didn’t care who was watching. The branches broke slightly as it passed through, and for a second Charles thought it might be one of the infected strays they’d started hearing about in scattered reports. But this one moved too controlled for that.

Then it stepped into the open.

It wasn’t alone.

There were two figures behind it, half-hidden, watching the same way. Not attacking yet. Just observing. Waiting to see what kind of response they got.

Charles felt something cold settle in his stomach. Not fear exactly. Recognition of a pattern he didn’t like.

“People,” he said under his breath.

Yiannis didn’t answer.

The first figure raised a hand slowly, palm out. Not surrender. Not threat either. Just a signal that meant they were choosing communication over violence, for now.

“Don’t,” one of the figures called out. Voice rough, tired. “We’re not here for a fight.”

Charles almost laughed at how often he had heard that exact sentence in the last week alone.

Yiannis kept his weapon low but ready. “State your purpose.”

A pause. The figure glanced back at the others, then stepped forward another half pace.

“Supplies,” they said. “Medical, if you’ve got it. Food if you don’t.”

“That’s not a reason to approach like that,” Yiannis replied.

“Nothing is anymore.”

Charles watched them carefully now. They weren’t organized like a military group. Too uneven. Too strained. Civilians pulled into something they hadn’t built themselves. Same as most of them.

Yiannis tilted his head slightly, like he was weighing options that didn’t have good outcomes.

“How many?” he asked.

“Six,” the man said. Then corrected himself. “Five now.”

Something in the way he said it made the number heavier.

Charles shifted his weight slightly and immediately regretted it as pain flared through his leg. He sucked in a quiet breath.

Yiannis noticed anyway. Of course he did.

“Stay back,” Yiannis told the strangers. “We’ll check distance first.”

The man nodded quickly, relief flickering across his face like it hadn’t been there often lately.

They didn’t move closer. That was something, at least.

Yiannis turned slightly toward Charles, lowering his voice.

“You holding?”

“I’ve been better,” Charles said.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I can stand.”

“That also wasn’t the question.”

Charles exhaled through his nose. “Then yes. I’m holding.”

Yiannis gave a short nod, like he was filing that away without comment.

“We can’t take more people,” Yiannis said quietly.

“We don’t exactly have a line forming,” Charles replied.

Yiannis didn’t react to that, but his silence said enough. It wasn’t disagreement. It was calculation.

Behind them, the strangers waited. Patient in a way that came from running out of options, not discipline.

Charles looked past them briefly. The forest didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt like it was holding its breath.

“You think they followed us?” he asked.

Yiannis’s answer came too quickly. “No.”

That was enough to make Charles glance at him again.

“You’re sure?”

Yiannis didn’t look away from the strangers. “I would know if we were being tracked like that.”

Charles didn’t push further, but the answer didn’t settle cleanly.

The man from the group took a cautious step back, as if sensing the hesitation.

“We don’t want trouble,” he said again, softer this time. “Just… somewhere safe for a night. That’s all.”

There was a pause where no one spoke. Even the wind felt quieter than before.

Yiannis finally lowered his weapon slightly, not fully, just enough to change the shape of the moment.

“One night,” he said. “No more.”

Relief moved through the group quickly, visible in the way shoulders loosened, how breath came out a little less sharp.

Charles watched it without relaxing.

They didn’t trust them. That part stayed unchanged. But they moved together anyway, because the alternative was worse.

The group followed at a careful distance, not pressing in, not falling too far behind either. Charles stayed close to Yiannis again without meaning to. It just happened that way, like the space between them kept shrinking when things got worse.

After a while, the man from the group fell into step near the back, not close enough to intrude, but close enough to speak if needed.

“You’re the one in charge?” he asked Yiannis.

“I coordinate,” Yiannis said.

“That’s what people in charge say.”

Yiannis didn’t respond.

The man tried again, shifting his focus slightly. “We saw what happened back there. The trench. You lost people too.”

Charles stiffened a little at that. He didn’t look back, but he heard it clearly.

Yiannis’s voice stayed even. “Everyone did.”

“That doesn’t answer it.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

Silence followed. Not tense exactly, just final.

Charles adjusted his grip on his injured leg without thinking. The ache was constant now, less sharp, more draining. He focused on walking instead of the conversation.

After a while, the group ahead slowed, and someone pointed out a sheltered dip between rock and tree line. Not good cover, but better than open ground.

They stopped there.

It was immediate, the way exhaustion took over once movement stopped. People dropped to the ground without ceremony. Some checked wounds, others just sat, staring into nothing.

Charles lowered himself carefully, biting back the protest from his leg. Yiannis stayed standing for a moment longer, scanning the perimeter like he didn’t trust the silence yet.

“You don’t sit?” Charles asked.

“Not yet.”

“You’re going to wear yourself out.”

Yiannis finally glanced at him. “We don’t get that luxury.”

Charles leaned back against the rock, exhaling slowly. “You always talk like there’s no pause button.”

“There isn’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the truth.”