Chapter 17: No One Makes It Out Clean
Time: 4:07 A.M.
The tunnel yawned in front of them like a wound in the earth.
Selene went first, stepping over rusted rails and broken concrete.
Mae followed. Then Aria.
The air inside was colder than it should've been—like the world forgot to breathe down here.
Flashlights cut ribbons through the dark. The walls whispered echoes back at them, not loud, just enough to make you wonder if something else was walking too.
They'd made it nearly a quarter mile in before the sound came—
boots behind them. Fast. Familiar.
Mae turned first. Her flashlight swept the corridor behind them—
and stopped on a face she recognized.
Jace.
The boy from Redhill. His eyes wide. His smile wrong.
Not surprised. Not relieved. Just watching.
"You left," he said. Voice low, scraping. "They said you would."
Mae stumbled back, heart pounding. "Jace—what are you—"
"They let me go. After I told them where you were heading."
Aria saw it before Selene did. The way Mae's whole body changed.
Fear, guilt, recognition.
"Run," Selene barked. "Now."
But Mae didn't move.
"I thought you were dead," she said softly. "I thought you—"
Jace raised a pistol.
Aria screamed.
—
Time: 4:12 A.M.
It happened too fast.
The shot cracked through the tunnel, echo bouncing like thunder.
Mae dropped, blood blooming across her side.
Selene fired back, no hesitation—two shots, clean. Jace fell, a sick thud against the stone.
Then silence again.
Except for Mae's breathing. Shallow. Wet.
Aria dropped beside her, hands already pressing against the wound. "Stay with me. Mae—please."
Mae tried to speak but only blood came up. Her eyes fluttered.
"Tell her—" she gasped. "Tell her I tried."
Selene knelt beside them, face tight. "We have to move."
Aria's hands were covered in red.
"She's still alive—"
"She won't be in five minutes."
Mae reached out and gripped Aria's wrist. Tight. Too tight.
"Go," she choked. "I'm already gone."
Then her hand fell.
Just like that.
—
Time: 5:01 A.M.
The sun hadn't risen yet when they reached the RV.
The world felt greyer. Like the light itself had given up trying to reach them.
Selene didn't speak. She drove.
Aria sat in the passenger seat, shaking. Her hands clenched in her lap, blood dried under her nails. Her lips moved, but no sound came out for a long time.
Then:
"She was right there. I was holding her—"
Selene gripped the wheel tighter.
"I should've—"
"You did what you could."
Aria turned, eyes glassy. "No. I didn't. I hesitated."
Selene didn't answer.
There was no answer that made it better.
—
Time: 6:13 A.M.
They pulled over near an abandoned gas station, just past the ridgeline.
Aria stepped out and leaned against the side of the RV, eyes locked on the horizon.
The sky was still dark.
Behind her, Selene quietly retrieved Mae's pack from the back. She placed it on the ground next to Aria. Didn't speak.
Aria opened it slowly. Inside—
a folded map. A half-burned photograph.
And a note. Written in charcoal on the inside of a ration box flap.
"If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it.
But I hope you did. Keep going. Don't let them rewrite the story."
Aria traced the words with a trembling finger.
Then she sat beside the pack, knees to her chest.
And cried.
Not loud. Not broken.
Just quietly.
The kind of crying that comes from a place deeper than tears.
The kind that never really stops.