Children of the Virus

7: Forest Fugitive

Toshiro and Kenshin crept through the bone-dry forest, their feet crunching on fallen twigs. The sun sank below the horizon behind them, bleeding red across the desert sky.

"I need to think about where we're going," Toshiro said abruptly, his eyes scanning the shadows between the trees.

"Why?" Kenshin asked. "The direction is that way." He pointed east, away from the stunning sunset and the prison guarded by its enormous menacing robot.

Toshiro knew that east would take them straight to Damascus. "You're right, but they'll look for us. He will look for us."

"Who? Zo?"

Toshiro wondered how Kenshin could put his shoes on in the morning. "Of course, Zo. His drones, his robots, his bounty hunters—who else?"

Kenshin paled, understanding dawning at last. "So, what should we do?"

"We need to split up," Toshiro said with determination in his voice. "They'll be tracking us. Together, we're too easy to spot. You'll be safer on your own."

Toshiro was lying. He knew the odds of Kenshin being tracked down by the bots were good, and he preferred to prevent himself from being recaptured at all costs.

"But what if they find me alone? How will I—"

"You'll be safe in Damascus," Toshiro said. "It's part of the IC. His forces can't follow you there without starting a war." The International Coalition, or IC, was a group of nations, including Syria and Russia, still free from Zo's authority. It was a haven for rebels, leading to an uneasy truce between them and Zo.

Kenshin nodded, though his wide eyes betrayed his fear.

"Keep going east," Toshiro urged. "I'll take a more northerly route."

After a moment of hesitation, Kenshin slipped into the deepening night, his footsteps fading swiftly. Toshiro watched him go, ignoring the feeling of solitude. With no idea what the future held for either of them, he set off toward the northern border of Lebanon.

An hour later, Toshiro found a tree with exposed roots to rest against. He sank down gratefully. It had been nearly ten days since he'd connected to the Luna token. Now, desperate to hear her voice again, he pressed the small metal token against his forehead.

Nothing happened.

Frantically, he tried again, pulling it away and raising it up again. But the token remained unresponsive. Toshiro's heart raced as he shook the token, then pressed it hard enough against his skull to leave a mark. His breath quickened in panic as he pushed Luna against his right temple, his forehead, and every other part of his head. But it was hopeless. Was his brain network malfunctioning?

To test it, he connected to the bounty hunter token he also carried. The innocent face of Alex, along with a slew of information about his last known location, appeared instantly. So, it wasn't his network—something was wrong with Luna's token.

"No, no, no," Toshiro muttered, his voice ragged. Luna's absence left a hollow pit inside him. He had clung to the hope of reuniting with her, the only bright spot during his imprisonment. If he couldn't reach her, he was utterly alone.

Deep down, he already knew the truth—somehow, his link to Luna had been severed. He had no way to connect with her or even know if her token still worked.

He hunched over and combed his fingers through the brittle, fallen leaves. With a desperate cry of anguish that echoed through the forest, he pleaded her name into the empty air around him: "Luna." But nobody was there to comfort him.

Toshiro's prosthetic arm sprang to life. "Is everything alright, Toshiro?" The arm's fusion-battery-powered LED lights pulsated with simulated empathy.

"I'm fine, Kura," Toshiro muttered. "Just going through a bit of a crisis."