Day 22 - The Plan

Jackson kept his breathing steady, ignoring the fire in his shoulder. The ropes binding his wrists were tight, but not perfect. He flexed his fingers, testing for slack.

The girl, sitting across from him, met his eyes. She looked scared but not broken. Her hands were tied, too, but her fingers twitched—she was testing her bindings just like he was.

Good.

The bandits were still talking near the door, their voices low.

“Boss’ll want to see him,” the bearded man muttered.

Another man scoffed. “He’s bleeding out already. Ain’t gonna last.”

Jackson clenched his jaw. They were underestimating him. That was their first mistake.

He shifted slightly, feeling something press against his lower back—his belt buckle. Metal.

If he could work the ropes against it…

Slowly, carefully, he started rubbing the rope against the metal edge, keeping his movements small. Every second counted.

The girl was watching him closely now. He gave her the smallest nod.

Her lips pressed together. Then, her body sagged forward slightly, like she was giving up. But her fingers kept twitching.

She was waiting for him.

Waiting for her moment.

---

Day 22 - The Break

It took nearly five minutes, but finally, the rope weakened.

Jackson flexed hard—pain shot through his wrists as the fibers tore against his skin, but then—snap.

His hands were free.

The moment he felt the ropes loosen, he moved.

With a sudden burst of energy, he lunged forward, slamming into the nearest bandit. The man barely had time to turn before Jackson drove his shoulder into his gut, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Pain screamed through his wounded arm, but he ignored it.

The girl reacted fast—while the others were distracted, she kicked her legs up, catching a nearby chair leg and knocking it over. The bearded man cursed and turned, reaching for his weapon.

Jackson didn’t give him the chance.

He grabbed the first man’s knife from his belt and plunged it into his throat.

Blood sprayed as the man gurgled and went limp.

The bearded man spun—too slow. The girl lunged at him, biting down on his wrist like a wild animal. He screamed, trying to shake her off.

Jackson didn’t hesitate. He ripped the knife from the dead man’s throat and threw it.

It wasn’t a perfect throw—but it was enough. The blade sank into the bearded man’s chest, and he staggered, choking on his own breath.

The girl scrambled free just as he collapsed.

Two down.

One left.

The last bandit, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, fumbled for his gun. Jackson lunged, but the man was faster—he swung the pistol up, aiming right at Jackson’s head.

Then there was a deafening bang.

For a moment, Jackson thought he was dead.

But then he saw the bandit’s eyes go wide, his body jerking as a fresh hole appeared in his skull.

He dropped.

Behind him, the girl stood, the dead man’s gun still shaking in her hands.

She had pulled the trigger.

She saved him.

Jackson exhaled. “Nice shot.”

She swallowed hard, lowering the gun. “First time I ever fired one.”

Jackson gave her a grim smile. “Could’ve fooled me.”

---

Day 22 - Names

They searched the bodies quickly, gathering whatever they could—ammo, water, a half-eaten protein bar. Jackson found his revolver and tucked it back into his belt.

Then he turned to the girl.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but her hands were still shaking.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She hesitated. Then, “Emily.”

Jackson offered his hand. “Jackson.”

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then shook it.

The gesture felt… human.

And in this world, that meant something.

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Day 23 - The Escape

They left before sunrise.