Two armoured vehicles waited outside Bradfield Park station, their engines idling as they prepared to escort Vanessa, Eric, and Winters back to Windfield. The military had staggered the departures of the surviving agents to reduce the risk of an enemy ambush. Vanessa and Eric were assigned to the first vehicle, while Winters would leave in the second.

Vanessa and Eric settled into the back seat. The early afternoon sun cast long shadows over the cracked asphalt as they pulled away, leaving the desolate remnants of Bradfield Park behind. For the first few hours, no one spoke.

The vehicle bounced over the uneven road, jostling its passengers with every rut and pothole. Each impact sent a sharp twinge through Vanessa's chest, a reminder of the injuries she was still nursing. Eric sat beside her with a rigid posture, arms crossed as he stared out the window. Occasionally, his gaze flicked toward her, but he remained silent.

Ahead of them, the dense forest stretched on. Every so often, Vanessa caught sight of movement among the trees—branches swaying unnaturally or a shadow darting just out of view. It was likely just wildlife, but her instincts remained on high alert after the chaos at Bradfield Park.

The meeting at Bradfield Park replayed in her mind. She had received the go-ahead to conduct the assignment discreetly, but logistically, she didn't know how to pull it off. All her decisions had been rash, reactive, and rushed. Davidson was waiting for her return, no doubt ready to impose punishment for her relationship with Eric, among other issues. The director's patience with her actions had worn thin, and he was unlikely to support her now.

The only approach she could think of to identify a traitor was to look from the outside. This would free her from the constraints of the Agency's leadership and allow her to collaborate with rebels and the enemy in her search for the individual. However, this plan meant becoming a fugitive, a status that was difficult to amend without a successful mission. It was also uncertain how long it would take or how long she would need to evade her colleagues.

The road stretched onward, isolating them from the rest of the world. Vanessa adjusted her position, grimacing slightly as another jolt rattled through the vehicle. She glanced at the driver, who was focused intently on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. The front passenger, an armed soldier, scanned the surrounding forest, his rifle propped against the dashboard.

She glanced at Eric, wondering what he was thinking about. "Did they say how long the drive to Windfield would take?" she asked.

"Days, probably two or three."

"And they couldn't fly us?" She already knew the answer but needed to hear it.

"Too dangerous. We've never travelled this far out of the city by road. I'm not one to question them."

Vanessa traced her finger along the outline of her stitches. "Of course."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

After a long stretch of silence, Eric said, "The virus. I wish I could say that virus was a conspiracy."

"You're not about to ruin one of the few quiet moments I've had lately by suggesting the virus isn't real, are you?"

"No, I believe you. I didn't want to tell you this earlier because we weren't alone. There was an agent on another carriage who initially survived the crash, 581. I found her body in the forest. I thought she'd been shot, but she wasn't wounded, and her lips and fingertips were blue. The veins in her arms around her arm plate were pronounced. I don't recall seeing that when we left. From what I can recall, Vanessa was the only other type R agent on the train."

Vanessa felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Are you suggesting it might be contagious?"

"I don't know what to think. I wanted to report it, but I'll be honest with you, I didn't know how."

"Strange words coming from you."

"At the base, I called my contact, who tested the canister. She wasn't sure what she was seeing. There were no traces of AMNA, but there was a virus. The virus appeared to be non-lethal to the general population. The results had gone to Riley, and he's been uncontactable ever since."

"No AMNA? That's all that was found in the mall. Maybe it was all dispersed," she mused, rubbing her temples. "The enemy soldier, he knew about it."

"You're going to trust the words of an enemy soldier now?" Eric challenged.

Vanessa's eyes met his. "Madicorp is looking for me."

"Madicorp don't know you exist." He sounded sceptical.

"Oh, I think they do. I suspect they paid that intruder to put a cyber worm in our systems. Shortly after that intruder was caught, more than one hacker was able to access data."

"Let me guess - you think they are trying to kill you as well."

She glared before turning her gaze outside, annoyed by his comment. "I am sure whoever Johan was working for is trying to kill me, but I don't think Madicorp is."

"So, what's next?"

"Madicorp is a risk, but someone in the Agency is a faith criminal. We need to find them before they kill anyone else."

"And you think it's Davidson?"

She considered her words before responding, "I would like to believe it's Agent Turner, but I don't know how he could have the means to turn a child agent. He's just a corporate."

Eric shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You can't add suspects to the list just because you disapprove of them."

She glanced at her arm, tracing her fingers over the scar that marked her as property of the Agency. Beneath her skin, the metal plate felt less secure than before—a grim reminder that she was tethered to the Agency, dependent on technology she couldn't live without, yet no longer trusted.

The vehicle moved through the darkening landscape, the world outside fading into shadow. Questions swirled in her mind, and her stomach tightened the further they travelled. She had no plan, only an unsettling sense that she wasn't ready.

****

Potholes and uneven roads made the drive to Windfield difficult. As dusk approached, kangaroos emerged, a rare sight for city dwellers. The soldiers excitedly pointed, slowing down to watch a group of kangaroos crossing a clearing to their left.

However, as the journey continued, the novelty began to fade. The repetitive tasks of opening gates, clearing debris, and shooing away animals became monotonous.

Vanessa tried to sleep, but dreams of the enemy attack haunted her. Thoughts of her failures consumed her—the agents and community children who had died. But the Agency had no room for grief; it was a cold machine that moved forward, indifferent to the human cost.

Eric gently shook her awake. "Vanessa, you need to see this."

"What's happening? Another roadblock?" Her voice was tinged with fatigue, her body aching for rest.

"No, it's a fire," Eric whispered.

She peered out the window, and her breath caught in her throat. Towering flames danced in the night, their flickering light casting a glow on the surrounding trees. Embers, carried by the wind, swirled in the air.

The driver cursed under his breath as he flung the door open. A rush of hot, smoky air filled the vehicle. Eric leapt out, bolt cutters in hand, joining the soldiers who were already wrestling with the gate's lock. "This is a death trap!" one of them yelled.

Vanessa's eyes were riveted to the unfolding inferno behind them. A tree exploded into flames with a loud crack, its branches becoming fiery tendrils reaching skyward. The sound mirrored the crash of the helicopter, a haunting reminder of their recent ordeal.

The driver gunned the engine, throwing Vanessa forward. She gripped the seat in front, steadying herself just as the vehicle lurched to a stop. Eric and another soldier scrambled back in, slamming the door shut. The driver floored the accelerator.

"Hold on!" Eric shouted, clutching the door handle as the vehicle careened down the road. A burning branch bounced off the roof, and the driver swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision with the roadside trees.

"This is why no one uses these roads," the young soldier in the passenger seat muttered, his voice shaky. "These fires are worse than the enemy."

"Isn't there a system to monitor these fires?" Eric asked, his eyes never leaving the rearview mirror, where the flames seemed to chase them.

"The wind can carry embers," the driver said. "Sometimes, all the monitoring in the world can't prepare you for this."

As they sped away from the roaring blaze, Vanessa's grip tightened on the armrest, her knuckles turning white. Eric kept glancing at the rearview mirror. She realised that despite all their technology and training, sometimes they were still at the mercy of forces far greater than themselves.

Just when they thought they had put a safe distance between themselves and the fire, a deafening roar filled the air, drowning out the sound of their engine – a plane flying low.

"What the—?" Eric started, but before he could finish, a substance rained down from the sky, splattering across the windshield and covering the vehicle in a gooey layer.

"Bit late now for fire retardant!" the driver yelled, flipping the wipers at full speed to clear the windshield.

Vanessa leaned back in her seat, her body still buzzing with adrenaline. Thankfully, the road ahead was clear. For now, they were safe.

****

Vanessa awoke as the vehicle decelerated, the tyres crunching on gravel. They were pulling into a rest stop. She rubbed her eyes and peered out the window. In the dawn light, she could see the charred remnants of a sign, its letters almost illegible, "National Park". Behind it, a brick toilet block stood, scorched but still standing.

She opened the door. Even in the early morning, it was warm, and the smell of smoke was strong. Plumes of smoke billowed on the western horizon, the sky-coloured ominous shades of grey and orange. They were only a few hours' drive from Windfield now.

As she stepped out, she saw Winters emerge from another vehicle, stretching his limbs as if trying to shake off the stiffness of the long journey. "Feels like we've been driving for an eternity," he commented.

"The condition of these roads isn't helping," Vanessa replied.

Eric moved beside her and said dryly, "Safety over comfort."

She scoffed, "Safety? Were your eyes closed? I thought we would end up down the side of a cliff."

Eric kicked at the ground, sending a spray of pebbles skittering across the parched earth. "Maybe you've been in the city too long."

Winters asked, "How does the army even manage with roads like these?"

The soldiers exchanged puzzled glances before turning their eyes toward the agents. It appeared they were equally in the dark.

Everything had become compartmentalised and siloed. Everyone and everything had become so controlled that it was hard to believe the spies and rebels could operate without being caught. They survived because the cities were uncontrollable, but they never made it beyond the city's borders. That's why the community people were valuable targets; outside the cities, the rebels could not influence.

Eric spoke, "The army doesn't need to travel. We have weapons."

"Some weapons those turned out to be," Winters said sarcastically.

"Mistakes happen. And those soldiers made landfall. It's unfortunate." Eric looked at Winters. "Private, you did well on that train. Your idea to activate the emergency beacon saved us."

Winter's cheeks reddened as he gave a small smile. "Ok, well-ah, thanks."

Vanessa retreated to the rear of the brick building, out of sight. She sat on the edge of a fire-damaged planter box, avoiding the wild foliage that had somehow survived the blaze.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. This was her last chance to sever ties with the Agency and pursue the mission that had consumed her every waking thought. But the cost was high. She wished she could confide in Eric and share the burden of her secret mission, but he was a loyalist and would see her actions as the ultimate betrayal.

She pressed the plate beneath her arm, feeling its unsettling shift beneath her skin. The plate was her lifeline, a reservoir of AMNA that infused her bloodstream. But her time was running out if the virus was depleting her AMNA reserves. Even if she managed to elude the Agency's grasp, her body's demands would eventually force her back.

She pulled out her phone, removed the back cover, and crushed it under her boot.

"What did you just do?" Eric caught her. His voice was taut with tension.

Vanessa rose to her feet, her eyes meeting his. She gently placed her hand on his. "Eric, I can't stay."

His eyes widened, disbelief clouding his features. "What do you mean you can't stay?"

She tightened her grip on his hand. "I can't go back to a witch trial, Eric. I need to disappear."

His eyes flared with alarm, his grip tensing. "You can't possibly leave. They'd label you a runaway and a traitor. You'd be condemning yourself."

She placed her hand back over his; this time, he didn't pull away. For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, and she felt a connection, a silent understanding. "It's for the best, Eric. Someone is looking for me, and I need to disappear. There's a traitor in the ranks, and until we find them, I can't go back."

He ripped his hand away and stepped back, turning his back. His hands raked through his hair. When he finally faced her again, his eyes were stormy, veins bulging at his temples. "We've already discussed this. You will go back. I will stand by your side."

She looked at him, her heart aching. "You and I know you'll stand by my side until an order is given, and then you will follow it. They are more important to you than I am."

"That's not tru..."

"You know it is," she cut him off, "and I'm not asking you to choose."

He pulled away. "You're going to run, aren't you?"

"Until we find the traitor, I can't go back."

Torn between duty and emotion, Eric searched her eyes as if looking for an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with resignation. "I don't know how you can justify—"

"Thank you," she interrupted. "I'm sorry."

Before he could react, she struck, her fist connecting with his temple. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Vanessa caught him, trying to ease his fall as best as she could.

With a heavy heart, she slipped away into the underbrush. She had a brief head start, but that was all she needed. The Agency would come for her, of that, she was sure.

Vanessa darted through the wilderness. Waiting for her in Windfield was not the welcoming embrace of family or friends, but a tribunal ready to pass judgment. Until she could root out the traitor lurking in the shadows of the Agency, she would remain an outsider—a fugitive navigating a world that had turned its back on her.