ECHOES OF THE PAST

Lena's POV As we staggered out from the cave, the weight of what just transpired sinking in, the evening air seemed electrified. Though not only from the exhilaration, my heart races. The persistent sense that Beckett's men are still out there tracking us like beasts. "Are we secure?" Glancing over his shoulder, Jacob asks with big worried eyes. "For now," Daniel says, his voice low. Still, we have to keep traveling. We cannot allow them to locate us. Marcus, who is scrubbing dirt off his clothing, has a tight mouth. His eyes show conflict, and I can sense the anxiety that follows knowing we are still under hunt. "What do we do today?" Trying to keep my voice steady, I ask. Marcus says, "Let's head to the old barn," looking at the tree line. "Although it's a little trip, it's more safe. We can decide where to proceed next. "Sounds good." I agree; one starts to have a sense of direction. We cannot let anxiety rule us. We need a strategy, and the barn would be the ideal gathering spot. I can't get rid of the sense of time running short as we begin to move. I see Marcus staring at me in a quick glance. "What?," I wondered as I raised an eyebrow and inquired. "Just thinking about how much we've been through," he continues, his tone softening " Lena, you are different today. In all this anarchy, you now lead. At his words, my heart stumbles a beat. Actually, I have changed since this all started. I have battled anxiety I never realized I possessed, laughed, and sobbed. Still, it feels weighty, almost like a responsibility to be dubbed a leader. "I'm just trying to do what's right," I say with an honest voice. "For us all." "We need you," he says, fixed on me. "You have strength in you that I really respect." The compliment makes me very conscious of the stakes even if it comforts me. I only hope I can keep everyone safe, I say, looking at the others. Deeply in conversation, Daniel and Jacob are planning our next action. We keep across the woods, the limbs breaking underfoot. The darkness seems stifling, and the odd owl hoot causes chills down my spine. Like prey in a large wilderness, I am left vulnerable. Daniel breaks me from my thoughts and calls back to Lena. "Where would Beckett be hiding out? Do you know? We must restrict his means of support. "I know he has some contacts in town," I say, thinking back on the murmurs I heard in the neighborhood restaurant prior to all this started. "He has been shifting goods from an old warehouse. We could give it a shot there. Then that's our next goal, Jacob adds with a determined voice. "We have to compile intelligence to determine what we are up against." At last the barn is seen, its shadow sharp against the starry heavens. My heart pauses; it seems like a haven amid anarchy. I see the door is somewhat open as we get ready, swinging in the breeze. "Be careful," Marcus says, leading first. He cautiously opens the door, the creaking sound resonating in the quiet. Inside, the barn smells like hay and ancient wood—a far cry from the anxiety lurking outside. We enter, our feet muted by the straw strewn over the floor. Daniel says, "Let's check for supplies," walking toward the rear where stacked old boxes face the wall. I can feel our circumstances weighing down on me as we look about the barn. I turn to check Marcus, who is leafing through a dusty box. He glances up, exactly where I am looking. Lena, do you ever consider what follows all this? I'm not sure what his query is about. "What are you meant to mean?" "Once we're free from Beckett's grasp," he says, his voice careful. then? For your life, what do you want? I stop and give his comments some thought. I respond at last, "I want to feel safe." "I wish I could live free without constantly watching over my shoulder. I seek... I wish I had a chance to start afresh. Though there is a sense of grief, the honesty in my voice feels freeing. Already I have lost so much; the idea of what may be seems contradictory. "Me too," he says, eyes flickering with a trace of vulnerability. "I want somewhere I might breathe once more. I desire not to lose anyone else; I have already lost too many people. His confession hangs weighty in the air, and I can sense the agony underneath his courageous front. "We'll work through this, Marcus. Together, I swear, a burst of will. Jacob yells from across the barn at just that moment. "Hey, I thought I found something!" We go over to see Jacob bent over a damaged container. Inside, among canned food, flashlights, and even a few first aid kits, is a supply cache. "This is GOLD!" Lift a bean can proudly, Jacob yells. " perfect!" Daniel's face brightens as he says. "We can profit from this. I get fresh optimism as we compile the tools. Though we have each other, which means something even if we may be against insurmountable odds. Laying the goods on an old table, Daniel adds, "Let's set up a plan." We will split up into teams. Marcus and Lena can look about the warehouse; Jacob and I can set diversions. "What about communication??" My head racing, I inquire. "If something goes wrong, we must be able to get in touch fast." Marcus replies, waving two portable gadgets he discovered in a drawer: "We can use these radios." "They will enable us to remain in contact." "Great thinking," I say, catching the spark of enthusiasm once more. We spend the next hour working on our strategy, each of us speaking in turn on ideas and issues. As we go over tactics, I can't help but feel a friendship growing among us. We seem to be battling for something greater—each other—not only for our lives. "Are you all set for this?" Quietly as we wrap up talking about our duties, Marcus asks. I nod, sense the surge beginning once more. I have to be as well. Right now we cannot back down. His gaze steady, "Just remember, I'll have your back." I can feel the weight of what is ahead crushing down on me as we get ready to leave the barn. There is, yet, also a flutter of hope—that we could just survive this. We leave, going quickly and silently toward the warehouse where our fate resides. The moonlight guides us up the road; my heart beats in my chest as we get to the structure. Seeing the shape of the warehouse against the night sky makes me want a surge of excitement mixed with terror. As Marcus seeks refuge behind some containers, I murmur, "Stay alert." He nods, staring deliberately. Lena, we are capable of this. I hear voices from inside the warehouse as we approach. Whispering, my pulse racing, "They're here." "We have to relocate." His voice low, he advises, "Let's wait for the right moment." "We want not to rush in without knowing what we are up against." Knowing he is right, I nod. We stop to inhale and pay attention. A big smash from within the warehouse echoes suddenly, then laughing starts. Marcus says, his brow wrinkling, "Looks like they're celebrating something." "We ought to take advantage of this. The door opens just then, and a gang of men bursts out laughing loudly. Fear tightens in my gut as they pass just a few feet from here. Marcus murmurs, "Now," and we dash behind the containers while our hearts hammer. "Get ready," I murmur, my body stiff as I follow the men's backs turned distance away. The vibe changes as we slide into the warehouse. It is dark, the shadows dancing on the walls as I survey my surroundings. The air smells metal and oil as old containers are piled high. Marcus murmurs, "Let's find the supplies," and we head farther into the warehouse, gingerly avoiding the squeaking flooring. As we look, my heart beats in time with my ideas and I get a surge of excitement. The stakes are bigger than they have ever been, hence failing is not an alternative. I hear voices approaching suddenly. "We have to leave here!," said Heart racing, I whisper desperately to Marcus. Pulling me behind a big stack of containers, he yells, "Quick, hide!" I sense the strain in the air as we stoop in the shadows. The sounds become closer, and I can pick out brief exchanges. "Did you find out about the girl? One voice oozing with contempt notes her making problems. Another says, "Yeah, we have to get her out." Beckett would not stand for this. Realizing they are referring to me causes panic. "They are arriving for me," I murmured.