The night passes uneventfully, and the first rays of dawn peek through the small cracks of the barracks' walls. August and Layla slowly stir from their shared sleep. The blankets have slipped slightly during the night, but they still provide a barrier against the morning chill.
Layla's head is still resting on August's shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. She stirs, her eyelids fluttering open as she becomes aware of her surroundings.
"Morning." August murmurs softly. "Did you sleep well?"
Layla yawns softly before sitting up straighter. The movement causes the blankets to fall away slightly, exposing more of their arms. As she settles, she absently tucks the blankets closer around the both of them.
"The floor's harder than I'd hoped," she admits with a quiet laugh, looking around at the spartan surroundings of the barracks.
August moves his share of the blankets away and stretches his arms above his head, feeling the satisfying pop of his joints, working out the kinks from sleeping on the hard mattress.
Layla watches him, a small smile playing on her lips as she too sits up and begins to stretch. The blankets fall away completely, pooling around your waists as you both move. The chill of the morning air prickles their skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blankets.
August looks around, the morning light revealing the shabbiness of their surroundings, the chill in the air a constant reminder that this place is not suitable for long-term habitation.
Layla watches him, her brows furrowing as she notices his determination. "I'm guessing we start leaving?" she asks, her voice slightly echoing in the empty room.
August merely nods, his mind already made up.
------
The morning air is crisp and cold in the mountains, and August can see his breath misting in front of him as he walks. The stolen car is parked a short distance from the barracks, and as he approaches, he notices that the snow has drifted up against its tires, partially burying it.
Layla looks at August, a question in her eyes. "Do you think we can get it out?"
August opens the rear door of the car and begins loading the supplies, starting with his two duffel bags. He then carefully takes the bookbag from which Layla is carrying and sets it on top, where its contents can be easily accessed if needed. As he shuts the door, the metallic echo in the crisp morning air briefly disturbs the quiet surroundings.
"Get in." August's tone is firm.
Layla nods and heads to the passenger side, her footsteps crunching softly in the snow. The car's engine struggles to turn over in the cold, but with a few turns of the key in her hand, it sputters to life. "It's working," Layla says, sounding relieved. "But I can't see anything through these windows." Indeed, the thick layer of frost and snow on the windshield creates a nearly opaque barrier, obscuring her view.
August approaches the front of the vehicle and crouches down, grabbing the underside of the front bumper. With a grunt of effort, he begins to lift, feeling the weight of the car shift as he pulls it forward. The tires grind against the snow and ice, leaving a trail in the powdery white.
As August drags the car, Layla watches in amazement from inside. "Wow," she exclaims, "I didn't know you were that strong!"
The car gradually inches forward, snow and ice scraping beneath it. After a few moments of effort, the tires break free, and the car rolls forward more easily. August steps back, wiping his hands on his pants. He starts clearing the snow and ice from the windshield. The cold air bites at his skin as he works, his breath coming in long, visible exhales.
Layla watches from inside, her hands tucked under her arms for warmth. "Do you need help?" she calls out, concern evident in her voice.
August shakes his head, focusing on the task at hand. The snow is stubborn, clinging to the glass in thick, icy sheets. He uses his gloved hands to sweep away the bulk of it, then uses the edge of his jacket to scrape off the more stubborn patches. After several seconds of effort, he manages to clear a view large enough to see through. He steps back from the windshield, wiping his hands on his pants once more to clear away the lingering snow and ice. The view is now clear, the early morning light filtering through the glass and illuminating the interior of the car.
Layla watches August with a look of admiration, her brows furrowed slightly. "You didn't have to do that all on your own," she says, her voice soft with appreciation. "I could have helped."
August says, "You're small. You freeze easier." as he opens the driver's side door and climbs into the car, a hint of concern in his voice.
Layla looks at him for a moment, her gaze softening. She nods slightly, understanding his reasoning. "I get it," she replies, her breath visible in the cold air. "But I'm not made of glass. I can handle a little cold."
"It's fine. We're leaving anyway."
Layla nods and settles into the passenger seat.
August shifts the gear to drive, the engine sputtering for a moment before roaring to life with a press of the gas pedal.
Layla looks around, taking in the barren snowy landscape stretching out before them through the windshield. "We're still going north?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.
"Yes." August presses down on the gas pedal gently, the vehicle beginning its descent back to the highway below.
------
"Does it hurt?" August's voice is blunt, yet with a hint of care in the way he asks. His eyes watch the road as he drives, occasionally viewing the side and rear mirrors.
Layla shakes her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "No, it doesn't hurt. It's just... different. Unfamiliar." She adjusts the bindings on her chest slightly, getting used to the sensation again. "I never thought I'd be in a situation like this, you know? Wearing men's clothes, traveling with..." She pauses, seeming to search for the right word. "...with a man like you."
August stays silent, his focus still on the road as he drives. The highway is bright as the afternoon sun blazes downward. He adjusts his shades with his left hand to minimize light exposure to his sensitive eyes.
Layla turns back to August, her expression thoughtful. "You know, I've been wondering... What's your story? I mean, what brought you to Afghanistan?"
August takes a deep breath, the dry air filling his lungs before he exhales slowly. "It's a long story," he begins, his gaze drifting to the expanse outside the window. "I came to Asia a few years ago, originally as part of a... let's call it a consequence of a personal mission of mine…"
Layla listens intently, her body language open and engaged.
"I became a... vigilante, I suppose you could call it. I was fighting against the corruption and wrongdoing that I saw in America." August pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I was young and reckless then. The authorities backed me into a corner and I fled to a nearby airport. I hid in a jet's cargo hold. I didn't even realize I was in Dubai until I stepped out."
As he speaks, Layla's brows furrow, her mind racing with the implications. "That sounds... dangerous," she finally says, her voice a mix of awe and concern.
"Yeah, it was. I just thought I was invincible back then," August admits, a distant look in his eyes as memories flicker across his mind like shadows. The cramped space of the cargo hold had been stifling, the cold metal of the plane a stark contrast to the heat of the chase. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the ghosts of that time.
Suddenly, the car hits a bump in the road, jolting them back to the present.
"I targeted specific people, those who I believed were harming innocent civilians. I thought I was making a difference, but... it got messy. I had to leave." You shrug, a bitter edge to your tone. "So here I am, living under an assumed identity, fighting in a country far from my own. The world's a small place when you're hiding from the authorities in two hemispheres."
The car's engine groans as it comes under the strain of the steep incline, the tires occasionally slipping on patches of dirt.
Layla remains silent, her attention focused on the road ahead. The silence is broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of dirt and sand beneath the tires.
As the vehicle rounds a bend, a group of armed men appears in the distance, their figures stark against the yellow and orange landscape. They're positioned at a checkpoint, their weapons visible in the dim light.
"Here we go again." August remarks dryly. He can see the checkpoint more clearly now – several armed men, likely Taliban, huddled around a makeshift barrier. One of them is waving their hand, trying to flag the car down.
Layla's grip on the dashboard tightens as she spots the checkpoint up ahead. She glances at August, a mix of fear and determination in her eyes. "What do we do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
August's knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the armed men ahead. With a sharp inhale, he makes his decision, his foot pressing down on the accelerator.
The engine roars to life as he floors the gas pedal, the car surging forward with a lurch. One of the soldiers reacts with surprise, his face contorting into a shout that's quickly lost in the howling wind and the squealing tires. The car slams into him at full speed, the impact jolting through the vehicle.
His body is thrown violently to the side, a sickening crunch echoing as he hits the ground. Another soldier, caught off guard, tries to scramble out of the way, but he's too slow. The car's front end clips him, sending him sprawling into the ground with a pained cry. The remaining soldiers, stunned for a moment by the violence, quickly recover and begin shouting. Some raise their weapons, others scatter to get clear of the approaching vehicle.
Layla, gripping the armrest, shouts, "We're in a war zone now!"
August slams the gas pedal down. The engine roars, tires kicking up a storm of sand and dust as the car surges forward, leaving the checkpoint in chaos. Layla grips the armrest, knuckles white, her breathing sharp as August weaves through the uneven terrain.
A flash of movement catches August's eye in the rearview mirror. A convoy of vehicles, their headlights cutting through the encroaching darkness. The sun's dying light glows against their windshields, casting long, jagged shadows across the desert.
August puts the car on cruise control as he says to Layla, "Hold the steering wheel! Like last time!"
Layla grabs the steering wheel, her grip tight and steady. She glances over at August, the same mix of fear and determination in her eyes as before. "What's the plan?" she asks, her voice strained with tension.
The convoy behind them is rapidly gaining ground, the roar of their engines filling the air. August can see the glint of weapons in the hands of the soldiers riding shotgun.
"Ready?" August asks Layla as he checks his pistols, press-checking them with the barrels pointed away from her. Satisfied he checks both of their magazines, seeing both fully loaded.
Layla grips the steering wheel tightly, bracing herself for what's to come. She glances over at August, her eyes wide with trust. "Ready." she confirms, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.