Counterfeit ✓

Chapter 5

As the sun dipped below the horizon, darkness settled over the campsite. Mila lay restlessly inside her tent, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. She tossed and turned, unable to drift into slumber. Frustration gnawed at her as the minutes ticked by. Suppressing a stifled yawn, she observed her fellow campers. Only when she confirmed they were lost in their own dreams, did she decide to make her move.

Mila hadn't planned on seeking Amy, but the inky night at the campsite tempted her to take the plunge. Without contemplating the potential consequences, she slipped into a cozy sweater and unzipped her tent's entrance. The frigid breeze kissed her bare arms as she crept outside. Mila quickened her step, navigating the maze of tents with bated breath, dreading the prospect of being discovered. She remained clueless about whether she was violating any rules, and after Stephen's ominous warning the previous day, she wasn't certain if she even wanted to find out.

A whirlwind of thoughts swept through her mind. She couldn't help but worry about her family's well-being and whether they were still among the living. The uncertainty of their proximity gnawed at her, intensifying her frustration. What frustrated her even more was her inability to gauge Stephen's level of danger - at least the guards were a tangible threat. With determination, Mila zipped her jacket up higher, squinting into the night. She knew dwelling on her family had to wait; her immediate focus had to be exploring the camp and finding her way back to her tent with no mishaps. The anxiety in her gut churned, and the tension held her body in its grip.

Echoes of footsteps reverberated from the rear. Mila inched toward the tent's back, squinting to discern the source of the sounds. Her lips pressed into a tense line as she caught sight of youngsters adorned in makeshift costumes, brandishing flashlights that swept across the tents. Their demeanor mirrored the city's vigilant guards, exuding an air of authority within the camp, as if they were prepared to enforce order without a hint of leniency.

Mila had expected guards patrolling the camp's perimeter, not infiltrating it. An uneasy knot formed in her stomach as she prayed they wouldn't spot her, causing her to bite her lip. The beams of the flashlights illuminated a different area, easing her dread. Yet, a rush of old fears from hiding in a cramped alley to evade the city's guards surged through her. She squinted, gripping the tent's fabric, forcing herself to regain composure.

"Stay calm, Mila," she reassured herself. Inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, she held her position, not daring to budge until the guards retraced their steps to the opposite side of the camp. She massaged her temple, trying to ease the throbbing tension in her head. "You can get through this night. Don't give in to fear. You've come this far," she whispered as an affirmation.

Mila wasn't the sole wanderer in the camp that night. She spotted a boy she hadn't noticed, also navigating the shadows. Startled, the guards halted in their tracks, turning their flashlight's back in her direction before they spotted the boy too. Without hesitation, the two lead guards sprinted toward him, bringing him down to the ground and pinning him with their knees on his neck. A feeling of unease had gnawed at her gut, hinting that something was amiss, but she hadn't expected this kind of reaction.

"You shouldn't be out here," a stern voice cut through the night, belonging to a third guard. "What's your reason for being here?"

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes as he whimpered, "I had to go to the bathroom."

The guard's tone remained unyielding. "You've broken a rule," he declared. "It's adapt or leave."

"I'm sorry! I didn't even know it was a rule," the boy stammered in apology.

Ignoring his pleas, the guards yanked the boy upright and shoved him into a nearby tent, situated to the left of the lead guard. With swift efficiency, the guard zipped up the tent flap, ensuring that the incident remained concealed from view. Mila shifted from foot to foot, torn between the urge to assist the boy and the fear of drawing unwanted attention to herself.