The darkness of the prisoner wagon was absolute. Faye suspected that’s how it was designed, to deprive whomever was unlucky enough to find themselves bound inside of light, sanity, and hope. Also, she suspected, to prevent them from really having any sense of where they were in relation to where they had left from.

Where was the sun in the sky at the time they’d crossed over? Faye was fairly certain it was shining from behind the tree, but at the time it was the last thing she wanted to focus on. She had the sense that the sun was in the east, but she soon wrapped her head around the idea of actually being in another world entirely, and threw that notion out the window.

First, what time of day was it? Were they the same length as days on Earth? Did their sun set in the west like theirs? Would the portal spit her out facing the opposite cardinal direction according to this world’s poles? Did this world even have poles, or was it some sort of meta-space flat earth dimension?

She’d have deemed the idea impossible and not worth considering that morning, but then she’d crossed through a portal. That sort of life event was the kind to cause anyone’s paradigm to fall back into its basic building blocks.

But the darkness had been broken by the pale blue light of her phone’s screen and a stroke of luck that Emma had managed to undo the leather straps holding her wrists tightly together.

Faye watched Dillon’s eyes with interest. They moved with purpose, his thumbs a flurry of activity as he looked for what he needed. She’d seen the look on his face before, when presented with a problem. Dillon was normally laid back, the sort of person who always looked either bored or distracted, but he came alive with passion when faced with a problem. Faye admired him when he was in that state.

In contrast, Owen, for all his neuroses, was meticulous in his attention to detail and swift to take charge of a situation in most situations. He was good at his job and Faye had little to worry about when he was in charge.

All in all, if she’d had to pick anyone to be in that situation with, it was the two of them.

Dane and Emma Bishop, on the other hand, were still wildcards. During the attack Dane took charge quickly and decisively, and his plan likely would have worked had there not been flying reptiles involved in the situation.

And Emma was able to shimmy her way out of her binds. That made her consider them reliable.

But what had Faye done? Her entire life she wanted adventure. And then when adventure came to her, all she could do was run. She was in track in high school. She ran the Capilano Trails in North Vancouver three times a week. She was good at it.

It wasn’t useful, though. At least, not until they’d discussed her role in the plan.

Every few minutes Faye took a peek outside at the wagon following them. Whoever they were, she didn’t think it was a soldier. If she had to guess, she’d have assumed him to be a farmer or something of that nature. First of all, he rode alone, and his wagon looked much more like what she would have expected in medieval Europe. She half-expected to find it filled with cabbage and potatoes. But still, it wasn’t worth a risk. He may not be a soldier, but he likely wouldn’t hesitate to inform the soldiers he’d seen.

Thankfully, he was getting closer every time she peeked outside, and the sky was growing darker. The consensus among them was that at some point, their captors would have to stop and rest, and at least give them water. But would they? They didn’t strike Faye as the types of people who felt prisoners and hostages deserved rights.

Either way, it was decided that the best time to act would be before they stopped to make camp, or arrived at their destination, which meant they may only have had minutes to act.

But the wagon behind them needed to pass before that could happen.

A final peek outside told her it was nearly time.

“It’s right there,” she said. It’s moving to pass on the right,” she reported.

“I can hear it,” Dane said. “We wait until it passes?”

“Two minutes,” Dillon responded. He looked to Faye. “I can do this, you don’t have to--”

“Your ribs might be broken, Dillon,” Faye shot back. “I got this. I’m quick.” She pulled the heavy curtain to one side of the cabin, flooding the room with the fading evening light.

“Okay. Then thirty seconds?” Dillon asked. He looked around to the others. Each gave a nod.

He pressed a button on her phone, and took a deep breath, then gave her a nod.

Faye’s muscles were stiff from kneeling for most of the day, and her knees were especially sore, but she climbed out of the wagon in little time, planting her bare feet on the ground quietly while holding on to the back of the wagon. She took stock of the landscape ahead of her and ventured a peek around the side of the wagon. She could see a guard sitting at the front, talking loudly with his partner.

She looked back in at Dillon. He held up five fingers.

Four.

Faye braced herself to do what she needed to do.

Two.

Her stomach threatened to fall out from under her, but she steeled herself.

Suddenly, the Bluetooth speaker in Dillon’s camera bag began to ring like an old rotary phone at full blast.

She saw one of the soldiers jump out of his seat and begin to yell in surprise, looking to the right of the wagon. She took that moment to act, breaking into a sprint toward the left side of the road, making a break for the tree line. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Hey you medieval dickwads!” she yelled, drawing their attention. The guard looked at her in shock for a moment before realizing what was going on. That gave her time to make a break for the tree line while the others ran off in the opposite direction.

She ran as if her life depended on it, and it likely did. She didn’t dare venture a look behind her until there was enough distance.

Up and over the little bush at the side of the road, around the large tree trunk and into the wood she went.

Her confidence was suddenly broken she she stumbled over her own feet, just in time to hear something whip over her head and embed itself in the trunk of a nearby tree.

An arrow. She looked back over her shoulder. One of the soldiers was struggling with a bow, trying to nock an arrow while the other was busy trying to deal with Dillon’s camera bag.

Behind them, Dillon and the others had managed to get themselves out of the wagon. Owen and Dane helped prop Dillon up while Emma followed them closely. They were making their way out. She just needed to keep the guards distracted until--

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Suddenly, the farmer that had passed by them earlier shouted out from further up the road. Faye’s heart sank. Once he’d passed, they thought him a non-issue. But they’d underestimated the volume of Dillon’s speaker drawing his attention. And of course, they’d all be within clear sight of him looking back.

The second guard then noticed the escapees, and yelled to the other. The two soldiers seemed to argue for a moment, and then the bowman shifted his aim toward her friends.

“Guys!” Faye yelled. “They see you! Scatter!”

She watched as Emma looked back and cried out. It caused Dane to reach toward her and pull her close while they picked up the pace. The second guard began to chase after them from the side, sword in-hand.

No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! They were supposed to slip away while Faye distracted them, then she would run deep into the woods and circle back later.

Without thinking, Faye sprinted back toward the wagon while the bowman focused on the others. He loosed an arrow which barely missed Emma.

When she eventually reached the wagon, she reached out, grabbed the bowman’s ankle, and pulled it out from under him with all her strength. Her muscles were still stiff from the day, and she was pretty sure she pulled something, but she’d worry about that later. The bowman fell over quickly, smashing his face on the edge of the wagon before falling out of it.

The horses reared during the excitement, shifting the wagon as Faye climbed up into it.

The bowman struggled to get back to his feet as Faye spotted Dillon’s bag. She quickly grabbed it without thinking, then jumped off the other side of the wagon.

The other soldier was gaining on the others. Even in his half-plate armor, he closed the distance to them in no time at all. Eventually, he got close enough to reach out and grab Emma by the hair. He yanked her to the ground with extreme force, causing her to shriek until the wind was knocked out of her with a punch to the stomach.

Faye struggled to open the back while she moved closer to them. She reached inside, felt around for the taser. Finally, she got hold of it and pulled it out of the bag.

When she looked up, Dane was throwing punches wildly at the soldier. Dane Bishop was by no means a small man, but the soldier seemed to take little issue with taking the hits. He stepped away from Emma, his attention solely focused on her father.

And then he sank the entire length of his sword through Dane Bishop’s chest. Faye watched in shock as he fell to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth. The soldier put a foot on Dane’s shoulder and attempted to wrench the sword out of him.

His last acts were to look toward his daughter, who was trying to get back to her feet, and mouthed one final word to her. “Run.” Then he grasped the soldier’s by the wrist and fell backwards, bringing the soldier to the ground with him.

“Daddy!” Emma screeched. She got to her feet with a stick in her hand and started to beat the soldier over the head as he struggled to get up.

The soldier got to his feet, eventually grasping Emma’s stick and twisting it out of her grasp. He walked toward her menacingly.

Faye heard shouting from behind her. The bowman was back up on his feet, chasing after her. No. No, what now? What could she do?

She turned to face her pursuer, taser in hand. How did it work? Did she need to turn it on? She shook wildly as she probed the device for some sort of on-switch, then nearly jumped as an electrical arc appeared between the contacts.

Her pursuer had seen it too, and it gave him pause. She pointed it in his direction.

He slowed down, staring at the taser, uncertain. He yelled something to his partner.

Faye kept backing up, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Dane Bishop lay on the ground, unmoving while Emma and Owen ran further into the woods. Everyone was screaming. Everyone was yelling.

Suddenly, the opening bars to Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival started to play, coming directly from the bag. This seemed to startle the guard even more, and he even took a step back.

The other guard was now yelling at the first, stalking toward Emma. Faye turned to face them both.

Things had not gone according to plan. Not at all. They already lost Dane Bishop. Emma and herself would likely suffer the same fate…

...or worse.

But at least the others would make it away.

Suddenly, as if springing forth from the shadows, Dillon leaped out of the darkness on to the soldier that had killed Dane. “Get Emma! Go!” he exclaimed, knocking him to the ground.

She looked at him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just fucking go already! Run!” he exclaimed as he struggled with the guard. The other still seemed uncertain.

Faye ran up and grabbed Emma by the hand, pulling her. She didn’t resist. As distraught and confused as she was, she was in the same state as Faye.

Running again.

She ventured a look back in time to see the guard descend on Dillon, and struggle briefly before punching him in the base of the skull, causing him to fall over limply.

They got him. They got Dillon. They would probably kill him. But if Faye turned back now, she and Emma would be next.

The only thing Faye could do was to run.

And so she would, deeper into the woods. Owen was just ahead of them, looking back with his hands on his head, but even he, too, recognized their best chances of surviving were to run away.

The three of them ran for what seemed like ten minutes, ducking and weaving through the trees, through bushes and over rocks.

But the sun was too low in the sky, and they were quickly losing the ability to see.

Finally, the three of them stopped, breathing heavily in the dark forest. They huddled behind a fallen log long enough to catch their breath.

“Are they following us?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know,” Faye said. “I couldn’t look back.”

“They killed my dad,” Emma said, her voice cracking.

“Emma, I’m sorry,” Faye said. “He--”

“He died protecting me,” Emma continued. “He would have died to protect you, too. He was like that.”

“I know,” Faye responded. “So we should honor that by staying alive and finding a way home.”

Emma stared off into space silently for the few moments. “They might still be able to track us,” she said. “We should keep moving. Cover our tracks.”

“It’s too dark,” Owen added. “Even if there were a flashlight in that bag we shouldn’t use it. We’ll be seen.”

Emma looked over to Owen. “Listen,” she said.

They remained silent. The forest around them sounded like… well, a forest. Insects chirped, small animals moved about in the underbrush. Faye could hear the trickle of a stream in the distance.

“I hear water,” Owen added.

“They can’t find us in the dark if they can’t see or hear us. They’d need light,” Emma said, her eyes alarmingly devoid of emotion. “If we walk through the stream we won’t leave much for them to track. They’d probably assume we would try to go back in the direction of where we were coming from. We go the other way, find shelter for the night, maybe try to get some sleep. In the morning we get our bearings, maybe some food, then try to find a way back home.”

Faye and Owen looked at each other.

“That’s smart,” Owen added.

“When I was little, dad used to take me on camping adventures. Two weeks in the bush every summer vacation.” She looked up to the sky, and Faye could see the tears flowing clearly down her face even in the darkness. There was a pregnant pause. “The stars are different,” she said, almost absently.

Faye looked up. Sure enough, the stars were already starting to shine above them, but they were unfamiliar.

Still, Faye found herself thankful. As alien as those stars might have been, they were comforting and brought a sense of strange and fleeting familiarity.

After they’d caught their breath, the three of them stood up and started walking toward the sound of the stream.