"Abduction." Even when I said the word out loud, I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it. "It probably just means we were kidnapped, right?" The question was mostly rhetorical. I was trying to convince myself it couldn't possibly mean anything else.

"Maybe," was all Kyle muttered in response.

I drove the rest of the distance in silence. We passed by countless degrading buildings, beginning to be reclaimed by nature as thick vines scaled their walls.

I spotted a small house that reminded me of my childhood home, and found myself once again recounting the vivid memory when I left it.

In the weeks prior, several of my classmates at school seemingly vanished, never again showing up to class. People began to notice, but our instructors tried to squelch any whispers about their absence.

Then, one night as I was lying awake in bed, I heard a faint, stifled scream outside. I rushed to peer out my bedroom window. A few houses down the block, my neighbor was being dragged from her house, kicking and screaming. Her captors were wearing city police uniforms. They swiftly bound her wrists and ankles, shoved her in the back of a black van, and slammed the doors shut.

I watched them march up the street and point toward my house. I was next. I slipped out the back door unnoticed and never returned.

Kyle was the first person I met up with outside the city walls. In the following months, we met Rosalie, Kole, Jade, Ashton, and Shaun, all runaways with eerily similar stories.

A year after leaving home, we scouted a school for supplies and were scared half to death when we found over a dozen people already living in it.

The only parent who had left the city to help his kid was Doc. We called him that because—you guessed it—he was a physician. He helped keep things civil. The majority of us were now technically adults, but his age and knowledge meant most of us viewed him as a figure of authority.

Doc's brother who still lived in the city kept contact with us. He worked for the government and was happy to be our "spy" because he liked the title and the excitement that came with it.

I tore myself from my thoughts upon realizing that we were minutes from our destination. At the outskirts of the abandoned city, I pulled onto an inconspicuous dirt road. A few minutes later, we pulled up to a brick building—formerly a school, now a cozy home to twenty-two fugitives.

"Sweet ride," Jessie remarked, the first to notice our return. He approached the car, so I rolled down my darkly tinted window."What took so long? We thought you were dead." He ducked down to meet my eyes. "You look like hell."

"Thanks for the warm welcome," I said dryly.

I pulled away, parking the car under a tree, so the canopy would obscure it from above in case the government searched for us via satellite. One can never be too paranoid.

Jessie went to announce our return to everyone, which meant Kyle and I had a few minutes alone before their onslaught of questioning. He finally looked relaxed, no longer looking over his shoulder every five seconds.

"We should get our story straight," He suggested.

I bit my lip. "Maybe we shouldn't tell them we went to the city," I said. "It was a terrible idea. I'm sorry I dragged you into it."

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I may have been drugged up, but I meant what I said earlier."

We walked to the gymnasium where we typically gathered for important meetings. After catching an unflattering glance of my reflection in a mirror, I tried to comb the tangles from my matted hair with my fingers.

We entered the gym. Kyle pulled out the files and deliberately handed them to me, as if signalling that they were mine. Some of our friends clapped and whistled at the success of our mission. I smiled, happy to see all the familiar faces, but uncomfortable with being the center of attention. I handed the files off to Doc, and, to my relief, everyone's eyes seemed to follow the stack of papers.

"Did you read them?" he inquired.

"Yes." Kyle cleared his throat. "But maybe you should read them yourself. Privately." The last word was almost inaudible, only loud enough for Doc and I to hear it.

"What happened?" Doc was eyeing me, my skin covered in bruises and cuts.

I had already prepared a lie. "After I grabbed the files, soldiers showed up. I must have set off a silent alarm. One got ahold of me, but I managed to get free and run away." The false words made their way past my lips with ease.

"You two should take a week off," he said, lips curling into a rare smile. He turned to address the small crowd, paging through the files. "There's a lot of data here. I'll review it and we'll gather again tomorrow, at noon."

The crowd murmured, clearly impatient to know if we had finally discovered the reason for the government's behavior. My stomach did an anxious flip when I imagined their reactions.

Doc retreated to his office and all eyes shifted back to Kyle and I. The crowd encircled us and, unable to contain their curiosity, unleashed their barrage of questions all at once.

"So, how'd you steal the car?" Jessie asked.

"Is there a file on me?" Soren wondered.

"Why'd you cut your hair?" Rosalie questioned.

We answered most of their questions, crafting intricate lies as we went along. The crowd's interest gradually died down and people began to file out of the gym. It was getting late. I stood off to the side, letting Kyle do the work of telling the more persistent people they'd have to be patient until tomorrow to know what the files said. The reason he gave them was that we didn't fully understand what they meant, which I was beginning to hope was true.

I felt someone's fingers lightly brush my inner elbow, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I reflexively flinched away.

Doc's son Jason was standing over me. "You don't strike me as an IV drug user. What's that?" he whispered, barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

I looked down at my arm, realizing that tearing out the IV tube had left a red mark outlined by a harsh bruise. I cursed under my breath. Of course he would know what had caused it—his father was a doctor.

My mind raced, searching for another lie, but nothing that came to mind was remotely plausible. I shot him a pleading glance, hoping he wouldn't prod further and draw attention.

He just smirked, knowing he'd caught me in a lie, then held his straightened index finger to his lips and walked away.

I was far too exhausted—physically and mentally—to worry much about him or anything else. After everyone dispersed, I went to my room and drifted to sleep the moment my head met my pillow.