No More Running

Day 22 – Nowhere Left to Hide

Mia Alvarez was done running.

For the past seven days, she and Leo had avoided trouble by sticking to the backroads, slipping through the cracks, staying invisible.

But now, as she knelt behind a fallen tree, staring at the burning wreckage of an overturned truck, she knew they had run straight into something they couldn’t avoid.

The highway ahead was littered with bodies.

Some were shot. Some were butchered.

And all of them had been stripped of supplies.

Leo swallowed hard beside her. "Raiders?"

Mia’s jaw tightened.

"Or worse."

The smoke from the wreckage stung Mia’s eyes as she scanned the scene.

The bodies were fresh—killed maybe a few hours ago.

Whoever did this might still be close.

Leo nudged her. "We should go around."

Mia wanted to agree.

But the road ahead led to the only bridge for miles.

If they doubled back, they’d lose days of progress.

And they didn’t have days to spare.

Mia exhaled. "We go through."

Leo hesitated. "What if they’re still here?"

Mia adjusted her grip on her knife.

"Then we make sure they don’t see us."

They moved carefully, stepping over the bodies without looking down.

Mia’s skin crawled.

Not just because of the death, but because of how systematic it was.

The killers had taken everything useful.

Weapons. Food. Shoes.

Even the gold fillings from people’s teeth.

Leo’s breath hitched as he stepped over a woman clutching an empty backpack.

"Jesus," he whispered.

Mia kept moving.

There was no God here.

Just monsters.

They were halfway across the bridge when Mia heard it.

A muffled cough.

Her muscles locked.

Leo heard it too—his fingers clenched around his rusty screwdriver.

Mia raised a hand. Wait.

Then she followed the sound, stepping carefully toward an overturned car.

She peered around the frame—

And found a man and a woman crouched behind it, both wounded.

The man was bleeding from his stomach, pressing a rag against the wound.

The woman had a gash on her arm, her face streaked with dirt and dried tears.

They looked up, startled.

Mia’s grip tightened on her knife.

They weren’t raiders.

They were victims.

And they were still alive.

The woman’s breath hitched. "Please," she whispered. "We won’t hurt you."

Mia didn’t lower her knife.

She had seen this trick before.

A desperate survivor begs for help—then their friends come out of hiding and put a bullet in your back.

But this time…

She didn’t see any weapons.

Didn’t hear anyone else nearby.

And then Leo stepped forward.

"They’re not faking," he muttered. "Look at them."

Mia’s jaw clenched.

Helping people got you killed.

But leaving them behind?

That made you something worse.

Finally, she spoke.

"Can you walk?"

The man groaned. "I—think so."

Mia sighed.

"Then get up."

The couple’s names were Ben and Emily.

They had been trading with a small group of survivors before the raiders hit them.

Ben had been shot during the attack. Emily had dragged him under a car and played dead until the killers moved on.

Now, they were on their own.

Just like Mia.

Just like Leo.

As the four of them moved west, Emily glanced at Mia.

"You didn’t have to help us," she said quietly.

Mia didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t sure why she had.

Maybe because she saw Herself and Leo in them.

Or maybe…

Because she was tired of pretending she didn’t care.