Under His Eye - A Sam and Colby Fan Fiction

New Freedom

Chevy's POV

The train had several stops before we realized we were passing into Canada. this was it... we'd done it. We were out of New America. Me, a handmaid, and my commander had escaped together to raise our child.....

Commander Colby Brock had become my heart and soul. We could never turn back now or we'd both be ended. He'd be executed, our child would be taken from us and then I would be executed as well. But reaching canada was only the first step. Now we had to get off this cargo train and find somewhere safe...

My heart pounded in my chest as the train slowed down, approaching the next station. I knew we couldn't stay on this train forever, and we had to find a place to hide and blend in. Colby held me close, his arms wrapping around me protectively. We peered out of the dimly lit cargo container, trying to gather as much information as possible about our surroundings.

"This looks like a small town," Colby whispered into my ear. "We could try to blend in here and find a place to stay until we figure out our next move."

I nodded in agreement and took a deep breath, getting ready to exit our hiding place. As soon as the train came to a complete stop, we swiftly jumped down from the container and moved carefully towards the edge of the platform.

Darkness enveloped us as we made our way through unfamiliar streets. Our adrenaline kept us going but also made us hyper-aware of every sound and movement around us. A sudden noise from an alleyway startled me, causing me to instinctively grip Colby's hand tighter.

"Shh, it's just a stray cat," he reassured me, his voice barely audible.

We moved deeper into the town until we found a small motel that seemed like it might provide at least some measure of comfort and safety. The neon sign flickered unsteadily while we paid in cash to keep a low profile.

Our room was modest but clean. As soon as the door closed behind us, tension that had been building up within me began to release. But I still couldn't relax completely knowing that there was so much more at stake now—our lives and the future of our child. Colby felt my shivers and held me close again before drawing the curtains closed and turning off the lights.

"We need to find someone who can help us, someone we can trust," he whispered.

For now, though, all we could do was rest. Our bodies craved sleep after the long, tiring journey. We lay down on the bed, our embrace both comforting and necessary for our survival. Sleep eventually found us, allowing our dreams to offer a temporary escape from the constant fear.

Morning came all too quickly, bringing with it a new set of challenges. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on our entwined bodies. We knew we couldn't afford to linger; every passing moment was a risk.

After a quick breakfast of granola bars and water, we left the motel room and began our search for someone who might be able to help us find a safe haven in this unfamiliar place. As we walked through the town, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for the seemingly normal lives that the people around us led.

The local library seemed like a good place to start, as it might hold secrets about the people who lived in this community. As we stepped inside, I was immediately struck by the hushed silence that reverberated throughout the space. I felt my heart pounding, only this time it wasn't out of fear – it was from anticipation.

We scanned bookshelves and newspaper archives, searching for any information related to refugees or underground networks that could lend us aid. Eventually, we came across an article about a nearby church known for harboring asylum-seekers – our best chance at finding not only help but also sanctuary.

As we headed towards the church's location, Colby and I remained alert to our surroundings, trying to maintain an air of normalcy despite our growing sense of urgency. Finally, we arrived at a quaint brick building with stained glass windows depicting various scenes from biblical stories.

Stepping inside, an immediate sense of peace washed over us; there was something comforting about the warm light filtering in through the windows and lighting up the pews beneath them. The smell of old wood and incense hung heavy in the air, soothing our frayed nerves.

We approached the altar slowly, watching as an elderly man lit candles and placed them upon it. He turned towards us after sensing our presence, his kind eyes locking onto ours while his mouth curled into a gentle smile.

"May I help you, my children?" he asked, his voice lined with age and wisdom.

I barely managed to choke out our story of escape and desperation, each word bringing back painful memories of what we'd endured to reach this place. As I talked, I could feel Colby's grip on my hand tighten, a testament to our shared commitment to our safety and the life we'd created together.

The elderly man listened attentively, his eyes clouding with empathy as we recounted our harrowing tale. Once I had finished speaking, he bowed his head in silent contemplation for a moment before finally raising it again to meet our hopeful gazes.

"We will do everything in our power to help you," he assured us, his words bringing a wave of relief over me. "You both have come so far and been through so much together. We believe in providing sanctuary and support to those who have suffered so greatly."

Tears filled my eyes at his words. For the first time since our journey began, I felt as though we might have a real chance at surviving this ordeal.

"We have contacts who can help you, but first, I must make some arrangements," he continued. "Why don't you both get cleaned up and rest? We'll keep you hidden here for now, and once everything is ready, we'll guide you through the next steps."

We thanked the man profusely and followed him to a small room tucked away behind the altar. A cot, fresh clothes, and makeshift washing area were waiting for us – comforts that suddenly felt like luxuries after our days on the run.

Colby and I exchanged quiet words of gratitude as we took turns cleaning ourselves up; the cold water was refreshing against my skin, washing away some of the dirt and exhaustion that had accumulated over time. As we finished dressing in the clothes provided – simple garments that would help us blend in further – I felt a renewed sense of hope and determination rise within me.

After resting for a short while, we heard a gentle knock on the door before the elderly man entered once more. He carried with him two bowls of warm soup which we gladly accepted – our stomachs rumbling at the unexpected meal.

"The arrangements are nearly complete," he explained between bites. "There's a network of kind souls who will help guide you to safety. But you must trust them and follow their instructions without hesitation. If any part of the plan goes awry, you may be exposed."

We nodded, understanding that our very lives depended on these strangers' goodwill and expertise.