World Of Hunger

The truck rumbled along the cracked roads as Jay drove, his eyes darting between the street ahead and the rearview mirror. Zehara sat in the middle seat, glancing nervously at both boys.

"I know a place," she said finally. "It's where I've been staying. You can lay low there for now, but only if you promise to tell me what's going on."

Jay nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. "Just give me directions."

Zehara leaned forward, pointing toward an upcoming turn. "Take the next left, then head straight for about two miles. It's a run-down building, but it's safe."

As they drove, Nicolas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn't hold it in any longer. "Zehara, we saw cars heading to the farm—lots of them."

Zehara's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "The government?" she whispered.

Nicolas stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. "The government? You think they found us out?"

"It makes sense," Zehara said, her voice hushed but urgent. "Outsiders like you aren't supposed to be here. If they know you're in Heaven, they'll do whatever it takes to stop you."

Nicolas's stomach churned. "But how? We've been careful. Uncle Shawn said—"

"Careful isn't always enough," Zehara interrupted. "The government has eyes everywhere. If someone tipped them off or if they tracked that necklace somehow..."

Nicolas froze. The necklace. The man in the mansion. Could it all be connected?

Jay glanced over at Zehara. "We'll talk about this later. For now, let's just get to your place."

The truck fell into a heavy silence as they continued their journey. The weight of what Zehara had said hung over them like a storm cloud.

Nicolas's thoughts raced. If the government was after them, they couldn't stay in Heaven for long. And if Zehara was right, their journey was about more than just finding his father—it was about survival.

The truck came to a slow stop in front of a crumbling, abandoned warehouse. Its walls were streaked with rust, and the windows were either boarded up or shattered. Zehara hopped out, motioning for the others to follow.

"This is it," she said, pushing open a creaky side door. "It's not much, but it's safe."

Inside, the air was cool and stale. Makeshift furniture—an old couch, a table made of crates—was scattered around. A few blankets were piled in one corner, and a dim lantern sat flickering on a metal barrel.

Zehara set her bag down and turned to them. "You can stay here for now, but we need to talk about what's going on. You said there were cars heading to the farm?"

Jay nodded as he shut the door behind him, but before he could respond, he noticed Nicolas standing frozen near the entrance. His face was blank, his eyes staring at the floor as if he wasn't really there.

"Nicolas?" Jay asked, walking over to him.

Nicolas blinked but didn't look up. "It's my fault," he muttered. "Uncle Shawn told us not to go back, but he's the one they're after now. If I hadn't been there, none of this would've happened. I've risked everything—because of me."

Jay placed a hand on Nicolas's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Hey, stop that. Don't do this to yourself."

"But it's true," Nicolas whispered. "If something happens to him..."

"Uncle Shawn made his choice," Jay said, his voice steady but kind. "He wanted you to get out, and you're here now. You can't change what's happened, but you can keep moving forward. Let's stay positive, alright? We owe him that much."

Nicolas looked at Jay, his expression softening slightly. He nodded, though the guilt still lingered in his chest.

Zehara watched them from across the room, her sharp gaze softening. "You both have been through a lot," she said. "But sitting around blaming yourselves won't help. Let's focus on what's next. We need to figure out why the government's after you and what we're going to do about it."

Jay nodded. "Agreed. We'll rest tonight, but tomorrow, we start planning."

The warehouse fell into silence as they each found a spot to sit. Nicolas sat on the worn-out couch, staring at the flickering lantern. He didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear—there was no turning back now.

The next morning, the dim light of the warehouse filtered through the cracks in the walls, casting long shadows across the room. Nicolas woke first, his mind already racing with thoughts of the events that had unfolded. He glanced over at Jay and Zehara, still asleep on the makeshift beds they'd made the night before.

It was a cold, empty feeling—being stuck here. He couldn't shake the thoughts of Uncle Shawn, wondering what had happened after they'd left. What had become of the farm? Was Uncle Shawn alright?

Zehara stirred awake and stretched, noticing Nicolas already sitting up. "Morning," she said, rubbing her eyes.

Jay groggily sat up too, letting out a deep sigh. "Morning," he muttered, his voice still hoarse.

The silence between them was thick, everyone aware of the weight of what had happened the previous day. After a moment, Zehara broke the tension. "We need to talk about what to do next."

Nicolas shifted uneasily. "What do we even do now? What if the government's looking for us?"

Zehara glanced at Jay, who seemed lost in thought, then turned back to Nicolas. "You need to stay here. It's too dangerous for you to go outside. The government is looking for anyone who's out of place, and you're too much of a risk."

Nicolas opened his mouth to argue, but Zehara held up a hand. "Listen, I get it. You want answers. But right now, you need to stay put. Jay and I will go into the city. We'll get some food, figure out what's going on, and plan our next move. But you have to stay here and lay low. Promise me."

Nicolas hesitated. He didn't want to sit idly by, not when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. But looking into Zehara's eyes, he saw the seriousness there, and the last thing he wanted was to put anyone else at risk.

"I promise," he said reluctantly, though his mind was already elsewhere.

Zehara nodded and grabbed her bag. "Good. We won't be long. Stay safe."

As soon as they left, Nicolas tried to settle into the quiet of the warehouse. But it was impossible. His thoughts kept circling back to the man in the mansion, the one who had bought the necklace. It had to be him. He was the one who could have tipped off the government about him being an outsider.

He couldn't sit still any longer. The unanswered questions gnawed at him. He needed to find out the truth—he needed to confront the man in the mansion and understand why everything had spiraled into chaos.

Without hesitation, Nicolas grabbed a piece of scrap paper and started writing a letter. It was short, but direct.

________________________________________

Jay, Zehara,

I need to find out the truth. I can't sit here wondering what happened to Uncle Shawn or why the government is after me. I believe the man in the mansion is the key, and I'm going to confront him. Please understand that I have to do this myself. I need to know everything.

I'll be back when I have answers. Please don't follow me. It's safer if you don't know where I'm going.

Nicolas

_______________________________________

He read over the letter once more, his heart racing with each word. He folded it carefully and set it on the table, making sure they'd find it when they returned.

With a final glance at the warehouse entrance, he slipped out the back door and into the streets, heading toward the unknown.