LILAH

PRESENT

"Move!" Noah gestured to the corner of the room with his pistol. "Face the wall!"

The trembling cashier did as he was told, slowly turning to face the wall. Though, not quite fast enough. Noah hopped the counter and grabbed him by the neck of his grease-stained t-shirt. He shoved him into the corner, the kid barely catching himself against the wall. He was pimple-faced with ginger hair and looked about three seconds away from pissing himself.

"Don't even think about trying anything. If I even see you blink...," Noah's voice trailed off, letting the kid's imagination fill in the blanks. Satisfied that he wasn't going to try anything, we wasted no time. We made a mad dash out of Bob's Convenience Store but not before I caught a glimpse of a photo hanging on the wall.

It was the pimple-faced kid and an older man, who I guessed was his father from the strong resemblance. They stood arm in arm in front of the Convenience store, smiling. Both had on Bob's t-shirts and it suddenly hit me that they were the owners of the establishment. A family run business. Great.

A loud crash brought me back to the moment. I looked ahead and saw Noah had accidentally knocked into a display rack in his hurry. The sound of showering sunglasses followed us the whole way out the door, but I didn't dare look back.

I didn't have to. I already knew what I would see.

Chaos.

The scene had grown familiar over the last few months, seared into my brain, like déjà vu. Didn't mean I would ever get used to it.

So far, the summer nights in Virginia had been hot and muggy, and tonight was no different. The pale moonlight was just enough to light our way as we ran heinously through the deserted parking lot towards Noah's old Mustang. It was parked along the road, hidden in a patch of overgrowth, and I instinctively ran towards it. Towards freedom. I clutched the straps of my now-full backpack, loving the way the adrenaline coursed through me like hellfire.

Noah was a lot faster than me and I had a hard time keeping up. More accurately, Noah had a hard time slowing down so as not to leave me behind.

The muggy air was like running through an invisible film, but I didn't care. I was free. I was invincible, and we were painting the night.

The crickets cheered us on like spectators as we sprinted past. My heart bass-boomed against my ribs, painful, but in a good way. The way that makes you feel alive. I was on a high like no other, my skin, bubbling with electricity.

The entire universe was zoomed in on just the two of us, and we were stretched out to infinity. All of the chaos teeming around me was suddenly still. The noise, silent. It was in fleeting moments like this that my world became absolutely clear.

I was here. I was alive. And, I was with Noah. Nothing else mattered.

My lungs burned their appreciation when we reached the Mustang and Noah rounded the driver's side. He tossed me his backpack and I shoved both of our bags into the backseat. I expertly leaped in through the open passenger window, ducking into my seat in record time. Seconds later, Noah had the engine running and the pedal to the floor. I flew back instantaneously as the car ripped out of the overgrowth, spraying dust and gravel all over the tall weeds behind us.

As soon as the tires hit pavement, my eyes went into overdrive, frantically checking the mirrors, looking for any sign of angry owners or flashing lights. I prayed silently to the moon-or anyone who would listen-begging, please let us get away, willing it into the stars.

All we had to do was make it back to the highway. Then, there would be nothing stopping us. We'd get as far away from this miserable place as possible. Safe and sound. Or, at least, as safe and sound as anyone could get nowadays.

Then, the shrill scream of a siren sounded.

Seconds later, red and blue lights flashed across the horizon, ominous and brilliant in the distance.

All of the air left my chest like it was being vacuumed. My heart felt like a shriveled ball of matter, pulsing in my ribs. I glanced at Noah who was shrinking before my eyes, deflating just as fast as I was.

"Noah." The desperation was clear in my tone.

"Fuck." His face paled. He ran a hand through his already wild hair. "Just relax. Act normal."

Noah let off the gas, bringing us down to a legally-acceptable speed, while my heart did the opposite. The little traitor hammered away, threatening to expose me for the perpetrator that I was. I was sure that even from that distance in the dark, the officer could see through the lie.

I sat perfectly still in my seat as if this was how an innocent person should act. Seconds felt like hours as the cruiser drew closer. I held my breath and waited. I knew once it reached us, we were done. I would never see Noah again.

It's over.

Just as the last bit of hope was leaving me, the cruiser ripped past us. The howl of its siren was almost deafening, like the hounds of hell themselves were on the prowl.

For a moment, the Mustang seemed suspended in air, time standing completely still.

Then, all at once, the noise came crashing back in, flooding down tunnels, filling my head.

Both of us seemed temporarily stunned into silence. I blinked once. Twice. Then, a pain in my chest reminded me that I was human, and humans needed oxygen.

I took in a huge breath.

"Wooo," Noah howled like a mad dog and hammered the steering wheel rapid-fire with his palms.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I did a combination of both. Really, I felt like hurling myself out of the car at seventy miles-per-hour. My heart couldn't take much more.

I released the door-handle from my white-knuckle grip, my hand aching. We actually fucking did it. AGAIN. A smile crept slowly across my face as if I was hesitant to believe it.

Before I could even fully absorb what had just happened, we were on the highway headed far away from Bob's Convenience Store and the piece-of-shit town we had called home for the last two weeks. The place reminded me too much of the town we grew up in, and not in a pleasant way.

When enough minutes had passed and still no one pursued us, Noah and I finally started to relax. Our breathing gradually slowed, our hearts returning to their normal rhythms.

Noah leaned forward and pulled out the pistol that was tucked in the back of his jeans. He held it out, wanting me to take it. Sweat beaded and dripped off of his dark hair.

I knew he wanted me to return it to the glovebox where he always kept it. But, once it was in my hands, I felt obligated to acknowledge it. I turned it over in my hand, admiring the weight. It was heavier than I thought it'd be. The cool metal felt nice against my flushed skin.

For all the times I had seen Noah holding it, I had never actually done so myself. Having the power of life and death in my hands was a foreign concept, one that equally thrilled and terrified me.

Still riding my high, I held the gun out in front of me with both hands, aiming at the mustard yellow lines on the road. I pretended to pull the trigger, mouthing the word boom each time.

I could feel Noah's eyes on me. Probably wondering if I had finally lost my mind.

When I was done slaughtering the pavement, I placed it carefully in the glovebox like Noah wanted. I could see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

I leaned back in my seat and threw my feet up on the dash, and set about picking at the frayed bits of canvas on my shoes. I was concentrating overly hard, like doing so might make them new again. I wasn't normally so focused-or quiet-and it didn't take long before Noah took his eyes off the road to inspect me.

"You alright?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Why do you still ask me that every time we do this? We've done it enough times now... you should know I'm fine."

His smile was devilish. "You are fine. And, I still ask you because it still matters." Then, his grin turned sour. "Not like it's getting easier each time."

I purposely breathed a heavy sigh, letting him know I didn't want to talk about it. We'd had this conversation before and it only ever ended one way. With us fighting.

"Y'know we don't have to keep doing this, Lilah?" He was using his serious voice.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked. "Tell me, Noah. What would we do then?"

"Find regular jobs like everyone else." His eyes bounced between me and the road.

"What jobs? Where are these wonderful jobs you speak of because I sure as hell don't know of any."

"They're out there. They're just hard to find at the moment."

"Tell ya what. You let me know when you find us some and I'll get right on that." I said, dismissively.

He scowled and shook his head. "Why do you gotta be like that?" he asked, sounding resentful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Realistic?"

He laughed a dark, bitter laugh. "Realistic? We keep doin' this... and we're both going to jail for a long time. How's that for realistic?"

I swallowed but tried to keep my face composed.

Another minute of silence went by and I could tell Noah wanted to say something else. Call it the result of us spending so much time together but I could read all of his little idiosyncrasies. Just then, he was chewing his bottom lip, bouncing his leg like something was just itchin' to get out.

"What is it, Noah?"

He looked over at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. He seemed to be debating whether or not to speak. I knew whatever he was thinking wasn't gonna be good, but what came out of his mouth next shocked me.

"We could always go home... to Midnight."

My blood instantly boiled. I stared at him with wide, gaping eyes, as if he might've lost his mind. "Don't call it that," I gritted out.

"What? Home?"

"Yes."

"It is our home, Lilah."

"Midnight is not my home. Home is a place where you're always welcome. Where you feel safe. Midnight isn't that."

It was never that.

His eyes instantly filled with regret. "I know that. I'm sorry."

"Besides," I went on, "have you forgotten what you did? If we go back there, they could throw you in prison."

He thought about it for a few seconds. "And, how would that be any different than what we're doing now?"

I cast a steely, sideways glare at him. I refused to think that going back to Midnight was even an option. I knew why he was bringing it up but decided against mentioning it. It felt too cruel.

Today made one year since we left Midnight, Mississippi. One year since either of us had seen our family and friends. Not that I was complaining. At least, about the family bit. I knew Noah missed his mom and brothers but we couldn't go back there.

"We can't keep doing this forever. Eventually, we're gonna get caught... or worse. Don't you want to find someplace that's ours? Someplace we can call home?" He almost sounded hopeful.

Home?

I'm not sure I even knew what the word meant. To me, home was this elusive thing, like Santa Clause or unicorns. I was afraid that the moment I started to believe in it, someone would come along and tell me it was never real in the first place.

I studied Noah, looking for the truth that only I could ever decipher when it came to him, wondering if that's what he really wanted.

If it's what I really wanted.

A long moment of silence passed. Finally, the corner of my mouth turned up into a crooked smile. "I don't need a home. I have you." I spoke with sincerity.

He regarded me with heavy eyes and an easy smile. He reached across the seat and laced our fingers together. "You know you ain't gonna have me if I go to prison, right?"

"Nobody's goin' to prison," I said, adamantly.

"You don't know that."

I sighed deeply and ripped another tattered piece from my shoe. "Nobody's going to prison because we ain't getting caught."

Since the war, the police population had dwindled down to a dangerous number, and the country was in the peak of the biggest crime wave it had ever seen. The small force that remained struggled to keep up with the chaos. Something I counted on very much to keep us off the radar and out of prison.

Noah looked into my eyes like he might find the future written there, studying me, searching for I don't know what. Finally, he turned back to the road. "Well, I hope you're right," he paused, "...for both our sakes."

You have no clue, Noah.

I let myself imagine the loss of him, shuddering at the thought.

I swallowed hard, trying to rid the guilt tightening my throat, and turned my face away before he could see the shiny tears forming in my eyes. I couldn't risk Noah picking up on any more odd behavior. He noticed everything, especially when it came to me.

Truth was, my guilt was a growing monster, and one day soon it would swallow me whole. But, I would gladly take it if it meant keeping the painful truth from Noah.

I promptly swallowed down the shitstorm that was threatening to come up.

Needing a distraction, I turned my attention to our latest haul in the backseat. The reward for all of our inglorious efforts. "How much do you think we got this time?" I asked, grinning to cover up the knots forming through my insides.

My attempt at distraction worked. At least, on Noah.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, looking just as devious as I felt. Still, I breathed a little easier knowing I could still keep a secret from him.

I climbed into the backseat and began unloading the stolen goods. One bag held nothing but cash while the other was filled with liquor, smokes, junk food, and whatever else I happened to grab. You know... the necessities.

After a quick inventory, I started the task of counting all the money.

Noah cleaned the place out, emptying the register and a safe that was in the back room of Bob's. Luckily, the cashier knew the combination and after seeing Noah's gun, he was more than willing to comply.

Robbing places, as it turned out, wasn't all that hard if you planned it right. We were always real careful about choosing the places. We'd stake a place out for days, making sure there were no troublesome security guards or too many cameras. We chose places that were in the middle of nowhere with only a few employees.

But, the most important factor when planning was making sure we had a clean exit.

I'd always go in first so I could distract the cashier. That way Noah could make his grand, belligerent entrance without meeting the barrel of a shotgun-a possibility that terrified me.

He'd shout and holler to get everyone good and scared while the employees fumbled to get the registers open. Sometimes, Noah would make a big show with his pistol. Other times, he wouldn't. It just depended on the amount of trouble we thought a person might give us. Usually, it was enough for people just to see it on him. Every once in a while though, you'd run into the hero type. In that case, they usually just needed a quick reminder of who was in charge, something Noah had gotten really good at.

It was my job to hold the bag open while whoever loaded the money in from the cash register.

There was always a moment when the person realized that I was in on the whole thing, followed quickly with a look of shock, then contempt, then anger. Anger that I lead them into a trap.

You'd think if there was anyone to be angry with, it'd be the man holding the gun. But, I found that was rarely the case.

After we got the money, we'd ransack the place, taking whatever we could get our hands on. The whole thing took less than ten minutes. In. Out.

Gone.

It wasn't always like this. I mean to say we weren't always criminals.

Once upon a time, we were just kids, dreaming of getting the hell away from our miserable lives and the town that we considered our prison. Getting out ended up being the easy part. But, surviving on the road... now that was something entirely different.

Things had gotten bad everywhere-a direct result of our country's second civil war.

When it began people said it would be the beginning of the end. And, for a while, it looked that might be true. The economy was crippled, borders closed, violence spread, people went hungry, neighbors turned on neighbors, the government collapsed. Food shortages became the new norm.

But, when the smoke finally settled and there were people still left standing, that mindset seemed to fade away.

But, what if they were right?

What if the end doesn't come as a great flash of fire and brimstone? Or, a grand gesture of death and destruction? What if the end is slow and agonizing? A long, drawn-out poisoning that gets into the tiniest veins and spreads until there's nothing left but rot and decay.

Everywhere we went, you could almost smell the desperation. The toxins of war had seeped in, leaving the country emaciated. I didn't know of any place that wasn't infected.

People said things were bound to get better now, but I found that hard to believe. It wasn't my experience of the world. In my experience, things could always get worse. And, the thing about poison is... people rarely know what they've ingested until it's too late.

It didn't take long for Noah and me to realize that life in the New World would be much harder than we thought. Jobs were scarce, money was tight, crime was at an all-time high, and the youth ran wild. It wasn't the police you worried about. It was the roving gangs. The criminals. The hungry and desperate. Those people thrived while regular families starved. You were one of the lucky ones if you had a steady job that actually paid on time.

Sometimes, you get to a point where the only decision to be made is the wrong one. At least, it might seem that way at the time. We were just a couple of desperate kids, living in desperate times, who made a desperate decision.

Of course, none of that mattered. The reasons why become irrelevant in the eyes of the law. And the eyes of the law were overworked and underpaid, waiting for a big score. Hungry for it.

I knew we'd have to stop eventually, but going back to the town where we grew up wasn't the answer. Midnight, Mississippi wouldn't be any different than when we left it, and Noah and I both knew it. Going back there would be a mistake.

The only place we could go was forward, leaving those desperate children that we were behind.