Ch.40: Dread and Desperation

"Boy," Albert said. "Lower that gun. Where am I gonna run to?"

Nicholas stared blankly at Albert for a few seconds, looked at the gun, then lowered it. "Oh…"

"What?" Milo asked, looking up at Albert with a worried frown. Albert moved forward. Milo followed and grabbed his arm, desperate to hinder him. "Albert, what do you mean? Where are you going?"

Albert nodded at the area ahead with his chin. "I saw some lights and houses over there. Probably some small town. That's where we're going."

Oh.

Running into Albert and Milo here wasn't a coincidence. Albert must have spotted the lights and decided to head towards the town as well, which was why he'd ended up on the same path.

"Albert," Milo continued, still yanking at Albert's sleeve. The desperation rang loud in his shaky voice. "You said we're gonna find Valentino and hide. You never said we're going to that town!"

Albert sighed. "I lied, Milo."

"You…" Nicholas walked up closer to Albert. "You were planning to leave Valentino behind?"

"I was betting on you noticing the town too," Albert said, readjusting Valentino between his arms. His steps were slow and calculated, careful not to trip and fall along the slope of the hill. "I hoped I'd run into you two on my way."

"But if we take Valentino there," Milo said, "he'll get caught. They'll send him to—"

Before Milo could finish protesting, Albert sighed, stopped, and looked Milo dead in the eyes. Dead, really dead: Albert's gaze was lifeless, hazel irises with graveyards in them. Then he tilted his torso towards Milo and said, "Milo. Valentino needs a doctor or he'll die. Do you understand that?"

His voice was precariously collected, like he had consciously, effortfully curbed an outburst. Nicholas couldn't comprehend how Albert managed to maintain composure in a situation like this. If Milo spoke one more word, Nicholas was ready to clamp a hand on his mouth and drag him behind.

"Tell me, Milo. Do you understand?"

Milo fell silent. He gazed at Valentino, then followed wordlessly as Albert picked the way forward.

Nicholas moved along, clutching the gun tight in his hand. He glanced back and forth. Then behind him, and lastly focused in front of him again. His heart pounded. Anyone could pounce at them any second. With Albert carrying Valentino, his hands were occupied, and he wouldn't be able to defend himself. Neither could Milo. So it was Nicholas's job.

The trek downhill was silent. Nicholas kept checking on Albert, waiting for him to get tired of holding Valentino like that, but he never complained. He walked without struggle, as if he wasn't carrying a nineteen-year-old guy. And Valentino wasn't even small and short; he was lean, and only a few centimetres shorter than Nicholas, and Nicholas was 6 feet tall.

Looking back, though, Albert did manage to throw Valentino like a sack of potatoes when the captors had surrounded them. And after getting shot with Julian's rubber bullet, Albert had spent his time shirtless, and Nicholas only now recalled that he had looked pretty muscular — the natural kind of strength and shape that resulted from years and years of manual labor.

"Where's Julian?" Albert asked.

Nicholas's heart stuttered. "He stabbed Valentino then tried to jump off the sharpest edge here. I caught him and tied him up and left him behind."

Milo didn't react. Albert only shook his head.

Nicholas lost track of time, but it must have taken about twenty minutes to cross the hill and finally reach levelled ground again. He stood at the border, hiding behind shrubs and trees as he checked the area ahead: in the distance, houses were scattered across a stretch of land, street lights cutting through the darkness.

Albert hurried forward along the side of the street. Milo followed, and so did Nicholas. Trees and foliage lined the road at both sides, but there weren't as many as inside the woods and across the hill. Nicholas felt too exposed. A sniper could be watching him through a lens, through an X aimed at his head. His skin crawled, his heart pounding.

Valentino had mentioned earlier that the organization must've blocked the roads, but not a single car obstructed the way so far. Nicholas didn't think this was comforting. Were they walking right into a trap, while escaping from one? It was like navigating a vast minefield; every direction, every decision, every step carried an inevitable risk. Staying behind in the woods wouldn't have been any better.

Nicholas looked back, and his heart sank.

It was supposed to be a quick, fleeting glance. He was supposed to see nothing. He was supposed to focus ahead again and think, I'm so relieved nothing bad is happening.

Alas.

Bushes rustled at the end of the hill, and men emerged from the darkness, sprinting in Nicholas's direction.

Albert must've noticed that Nicholas stopped, and he turned to check behind him as well. "Oh, God," he said. "Did they see us? Should we stop and hide?"

"No," Nicholas said. "Run."

"What?"

"Run! We've been hiding the whole time! Where has that gotten us? Nowhere! We're just getting cornered!"

Albert looked at Valentino, unconscious in his arms. Then he readjusted again, tightening his grip. He took off. Milo ran after him, and Nicholas last.

The men behind picked up their pace too. Nicholas had been hoping they hadn't noticed them yet, but clearly they did. Restless energy coursed through Nicholas's veins. He ran as fast as he could. The wind howled. Twigs cracked under his feet. His pulse thumped in his ears.

A gun fired behind Nicholas's back, but it was strangely quiet. Silencers, Nicholas thought. His blood ran cold. Still, he sprinted, momentum pushing him forward. The bullet pierced a tree. Albert glanced back. Nicholas shook his head frantically, shouting, "Don't look! Keep going!"

A few more bullets. Some whizzed straight into the soil by Nicholas's feet. Some hit more tree barks. Between the movement and darkness, the men of the organization couldn't aim well. Only Julian could hit his target even in chaos.

Julian.

Nicholas's eyes widened. The town grew closer and closer as he ran towards it. Julian. God, he'd left him behind. And he hated it, and it ate at him, and he didn't know why. One more bullet shot past Nicholas. He gritted his teeth, turned his torso, and pointed the gun back at the men. He shot four times.

Each shot echoed in the dead of the night, and hopefully the noise reached over to the town. If the residents heard so much gunfire, surely they'd call the police on their own.

Behind, the men stopped dead in their tracks. Their footsteps vanished. At first Nicholas's lungs crippled, the air knocked out of them. Had he actually shot one of them? Could he have just killed someone? He frowned, absently gazing at Albert in front of him. No, no, no. The men must've stopped because they were shocked that Nicholas carried a gun at all.

In any case, it bought them some time.

The town was up ahead. Street lights cast a yellow shape across the first, nearest brick house and its slanting, triangular rooftop. Chimney smoke plumed out of its vent.

Nicholas sped up even more, nearly passing by Albert.

We did it, he thought. God, we did it. We made it here.

Jumping over the small, white picket fence, Nicholas dashed towards the front door and knocked against it as violently as he could.

"Ambulance! Cops… please," Nicholas breathed, hunched over, his shoulder pressed to the door as he knocked with his other hand. Words could barely filter past his hitching breath. "Get…" He panted. "Us, an ambulance. Please. And call… the cops!"

"They're getting closer," Albert said, looking to the right.

And then, from the left side, a faint humming sound echoed. A beam of light passed on a street further back, followed by a black Jeep.

Nicholas saw this coming.

He'd known the organisation couldn't have left the streets unguarded. Of course they were also monitoring the nearby towns. So it was predictable, and yet nothing could've prepared Nicholas for the way something heavy and harrowing like a blackhole swallowed his heart. A slow, torturous shudder ran down his entire body.

The vehicle hadn't located them yet, but it would eventually. There wasn't much time left.

"Let us in!" Nicholas shouted, kicking at the door. "Please!"

A young man and a woman appeared behind the window, standing close to each other, their eyes saucer-sized. The woman gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth as her sight fell upon Valentino, the blood pooling over the hideous stab-wound on his stomach. Some of it dripped to the ground.

"Please. He's dying," Albert said. His voice quivered, and he took a step closer. "Please let us in."

"For God's sake!" Nicholas shouted. "Are you deaf? Did you not hear all the gunshots? Get the cops for your own safety if not for ours! Morons!"

Nicholas's rage must've snapped the two out of their shocked trance. The woman spun around, haphazardly moving her head left and right like she couldn't think straight to find a phone. Eventually she did, and when she pressed it to her ear, anxiously gnawing at her nail, Nicholas looked around for a temporary hiding spot.

"Shed," Nicholas said, pointing at it. "Hide there for now."

Albert nodded and left.

"Ambulance," Nicholas reminded the man, who picked up another phone and did as told. Only then did Nicholas leave, hurrying after Albert.

The shed was at the far right corner behind the house. Holding Valentino tight, Albert kicked the door; it cracked and inched back. He went in, careful not to let Valentino's head or legs bump against the threshold. Milo followed them.

Nicholas hastened inside the shed as well. The door creaked as he closed it, just about to fall off its hinges. He turned around, his head spinning, nausea burning the base of his throat. His vision blurred for a split second as he scanned the stuffy, tiny place for anything to block the door with.

Milo walked past him, dragging something behind him. Nicholas squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, and his sight was normal again. He took the shovel that Milo had picked up and balanced it against the door, blocking the handle. Milo helped secure it with a broken chair and some rusty, metal car parts.

Albert had sat down against the wall, Valentino's torso in his lap, the side of his head leaning against his shoulder. Valentino's eyes were still closed.

Milo sat down next to them, taking his jacket off. He pressed it to Valentino's stomach.

Nicholas stood by the door, keeping the gun ready. His clothes were wet and sticky along his arm, and only then did he remember that his stitches had broken and blood was pouring out. The pain lagged. It took a while for it to set in.

"His intestines are gonna fall out," Albert mumbled, his eyes on the blood that was flowing out of Valentino's wound. "And he says he's fine."

And so they waited, until they heard footsteps thud near them outside the shed. Until a car screeched in the distance.

And until sirens blared.

• • •

Only 2 chapters left 😭 i got way too attached to these characters i'm not ready to let go

That's why I'm gonna write a short mini prequel lol 😍 i did not just come up with all these backstories for nothing. I need to show you guys young Valentino being an absolute creep cz he didn't know how to express his love/appreciation lmao. and so many others things ofc regarding all the characters.

Thank you for reading/voting/commenting, it means the world to me!!❤️❤️❤️