I Kept Walking North With Them Behind Me

 I Kept Walking North With Them Behind Me VIDEO

The trail winds between the trees. Dry leaves crunch beneath my feet. Sam weighs heavily in my arms, but I don’t put him down.

Emma walks behind me. I hear her breathing—broken, uneven. Her ankle hurts, though she doesn’t complain.

“How much farther?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Thomas said to follow the sun.”

The sky is clear. The sun rises above the trees, warm, almost comforting.

“Should we rest?” Emma says.

“Not yet. I want to get farther away.”

“Sam’s heavy.”

“I know.”

“Let me carry him for a while.”

“No. Your ankle.”

“Jack...”

“No.”

She doesn’t insist. She knows I’m right.

We walk for what feels like hours. The trail narrows. At times it nearly disappears into the brush. But it always reappears. Like a scar across the earth.

The forest changes. The oaks give way to taller pines. The ground becomes rocky. The air smells of resin and wet earth.

Sam wakes up.

“Where are we, Dad?”

“In the woods. We’re going somewhere safe.”

“Are there animals?”

“Yes. But they won’t come near us.”

“Bears?”

“No, little one. Only squirrels and rabbits.”

I lie. I’ve seen bear tracks in the mud near the creek. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Emma comes closer. She touches my arm.

“We should stop. I need to sit down.”

“Your ankle?”

“Yes.”

I look for a good place. A flat rock beside a small stream. I sit down with Sam in my lap. Emma drops down beside me.

She takes out the water bottle. Drinks. Passes it to me.

“Here.”

“Later.”

“Take it now.”

I take it. I drink. The water is cold. It runs down my chin.

Sam plays with a small stone, rolling it between his fingers.

“How much farther?” Emma asks.

“I don’t know. Another day, maybe.”

“Thomas said two.”

“Yes.”

“He seemed like a good man.”

“He is.”

“Why did he help us?”

“Because he knows what it is to be alone. And because he hates the men chasing us as much as we do.”

Emma nods. She looks ahead. The trees stretch as far as the eye can see.

“I’m scared, Jack.”

“So am I.”

“You don’t look it.”

“I fake it well.”

She smiles. A sad smile.

“You always faked it well. Even when I met you. You smiled. But your eyes didn’t.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything about you.”

“I don’t.”

“I know. But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

Silence spreads. The stream murmurs. Birds sing.

Sam stands up. Walks toward the water.

“Don’t go too close,” I say.

“I’m just looking.”

He crouches. Puts his hand in the water. Pulls it out and watches it drip through his fingers.

“It’s cold,” he says.

“Like your mother.”

Emma laughs. A soft sound.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“For being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

She looks at me. Her eyes shine.

Then I hear something.

A sound. Distant. But different.

“Quiet,” I say.

Emma tenses. Sam comes back to my side.

“What is it?”

“Listen.”

The forest goes still. The birds stop singing.

And then I hear it.

Engines.

Several. Far away. But moving closer.

“It has to be them,” Emma says.

“Yes.”

“Did they find us?”

“Not yet. But they’re searching.”

I get to my feet. Sam in my arms.

“We have to move.”

“Which way?”

“North. Always north.”

We start walking again. Faster now. The trail climbs. The ground grows steeper.

The engines sound behind us. Sometimes louder. Sometimes weaker. Depending on the wind.

Emma limps. But she doesn’t stop.

“Do you see the hill?” I ask.

“No. Just trees.”

“It has to be close. Thomas said it marked the halfway point.”

We keep going. The sun rises higher. The heat increases.

Sam sweats. So do I.

The engines go silent.

“They stopped,” Emma says.

“Or they found the trail.”

“What do we do?”

“Keep going.”

The forest opens suddenly.

Ahead of us, a hill rises against the sky. It isn’t tall. But it has a strange shape. Rounded. Elongated.

Like a whale’s back.

“There it is,” I say.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How much farther from there?”

“Thomas said the halfway point.”

Emma looks back. I do too.

The forest is still. Too still.

“I don’t see them,” she says.

“But they’re there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they haven’t stopped looking for us.”

We keep walking. The hill slowly falls behind us.

Ahead, only more forest. More mountain. More uncertainty.

But also the promise of a place on the other side.

A place where the engines won’t find us.

Where Sam can grow up without fear.

Where Emma can sleep without dreaming of armed men.

I walk.

One step after another.

The sun moves slowly west.

The day goes on.

And so do we.