Milan puffed, leaning his hand against the brick wall. The sun beat down on him. He rested his back against the wall where old-fashioned buildings surrounded the alleyway. Waste containers brimmed with garbage, an acrid smell twisting up.

Great, just great. It was one problem after another. As if the police being after him wasn’t enough.

He swept the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. It didn’t help he wore two layers of clothing. Before long, he dumped his prison uniform on top of the trash, and his body felt a thousand pounds lighter. He rolled up the sleeves of his new shirt to his elbows and pushed the cap onto his head as he ambled out of the alleyway. This cover should work for now. The uniform had been a huge giveaway.

Milan ambered through the street. The police could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows and waiting for their chance to capture him. He lowered his head. He couldn’t let them get a glimpse of his face. It wasn’t just the police. Anyone could recognize him. His face had to have been plastered on every news channel, along with the other prisoners who escaped.

It didn’t matter in the long run, as long as he wasn’t captured. He needed to find the culprit first — the one who had murdered his parents and make him confess. If that happened, it would turn Milan’s situation around. He just needed a chance.

Milan frowned. His stomach twisted in hunger, and his throat felt as dry as a desert. Where was Eli? She had the money. He needed to find her before he’d collapse from undernourishment. Okay, that wouldn’t happen. But he needed to fill his stomach to be able to concentrate on their next move.

He didn’t have to search for long. A scent of meat and oil wafted from nearby. He raised his head, his eyes meeting a fast-food joint. The sign on top said: Burger ‘nd fries. Yeah, Milan could see that. Pictures of fake burgers and fries advertisements stuck to the window, and a crooked ‘open’ sign hung from the window door.

Milan craned his neck. Someone sat inside, stuffing their face into a burger.

Eli.

Milan let out a harsh breath. Damn you, Eli, he thought as he opened the door. He was hit by heavy, greasy air. The kind of air in cheap fast-food places. Wooden chairs circled around tables with red and white checkered tablecloths.

Eli lifted her head. She had gotten rid of her prison uniform, too. Instead, her body was buried in an oversized, blue-and-black striped t-shirt. Her straight hair was exposed from the designer cap with a gold logo. The cap that had gotten them in so much trouble.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Hey hey, MW, over here!” She waved her hand, as if Milan had no idea where she could be in this empty fast-food joint. “You gotta try this. It’s radical!”

Milan slipped into the chair. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Eatin’,” she said with her mouth full of food.

“No, that’s not what I…” Milan sighed. “Listen. We need to keep a low profile.”

“These peeps don’t know us.”

“They could. We must be all over the news by now. Face, name, everything.”

Eli trotted her mouth. “But isn’t it fun? Think ’bout it. We don’t know if they know they know us! What if they do? What if they don’t? No one knows.”

Milan rubbed his temples, considering if it was worth staying with Eli any longer. She’d get him into trouble, for sure. But at least she was back to her old self.

Eli flailed her half-eaten burger in front of Milan’s face. “You want?”

“No way am I eating that junk.” Milan wrinkled his nose. “A healthy body is a healthy mind.”

“You must be fun at parties.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Waiter!” Eli shouted as if she’d swallowed a speaker. “Can you bring this borin’ person a salad?”

“Really? Salad isn’t the only healthy food on earth,” Milan said.

“Burgers are healthy!” Eli licked her greasy fingers.

Milan suppressed the urge to ram his head onto the table. Why could he never win an argument against Eli, even when he was right? And out of all things, why a salad?! That would never be enough to satiate him. Not when he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Which had to be around seven or eight hours ago. Milan’s stomach rumbled at the thought.

Footsteps neared their table, and he considered gobbling the salad down and order four or five burgers. He didn’t know when he’d get a chance to eat again.

“Here’s your sal-” The waitress tripped over her own feet, dropping the bowl. Limp tomatoes and cucumbers splatted onto the ground. On second thought, he wasn’t eating that. No way.

The waitress sniffled. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. She picked up the salad pieces and dry tomatoes with her bare hands.

“No worries,” Milan said. “I didn’t want it, anyway.”

In a flash, her eyes met Milan’s. She gasped and dropped everything in her hands. Her face turned ashen, and her gray eyes grew wide. “You’re… you’re…”

Milan’s heart dropped. She knew.

“Eli!” Milan said.

Eli waved at the waitress. “Thanks for the food! Real tasty.”

She didn’t get to say another word as Milan dragged her out of the restaurant.