No Way Out ➵ John Murphy

11 //

ELEVEN.
❝clear blue water, high tide brought you in... skies grew darker, currents swept you out again.❞

Layla was disgusted upon learning she had to make the deathly trek back to camp. The same trek that had resulted in nothing but malnourishment and death the first time around.

This time it was even worse. She was without a companion. She kept expecting Murphy to say something snarky about Jaha's ludicrous plans or to complain about how the desert sand felt as it filled up his boots. But there was nothing. Layla hadn't said a word since they had started walking and Otan and Jaha had barely said anything either, other than things Layla couldn't understand.

She staggered behind them. She took in all the sand dunes and emptiness. It seemed fitting. Layla was beyond irritated with herself for trusting Murphy with so much sheer faith in him. After all these months, she really believed he would always come through. It took him maybe two days of being on the outside to abandon her. He must have known she was wrapped around his finger, and maybe that's why he did it, for a bit of sick fun.

Layla missed camp. She knew that's where they were going but Camp Jaha was nothing but a safe haven of the past. It was Arkadia now and everything was as strict as it had been in the sky. There was nothing really there for her now. She was sure Miller was dead and so was her mother. She missed the old camp when it was just the one hundred of them and they had to stick together to survive.

It all seemed surreal. Everything had changed so fast. One moment she was locked in a dark cell, the next moment she was walking around on the ground and desperately trying to stay alive. The was the only goal: to stay alive. Layla had forgotten that for a moment, with Murphy's opinions dominating over her own. Survival was the only option. If that meant two different things to Murphy than it did toLayla, then so be it. She wasn't going to use his advice as a guideline anymore. She had gotten just as far as him without it. She had also managed not to get banished or tortured, so in actuality, she was better off.

The last time Layla had trudged through this desert they had taken many breaks to sleep or even catch their breath. This time, it seemed that Jaha wasn't stopping for anything. He didn't appear to be affected by the long haul, either. She hadn't even seen a bead of sweat roll off of him.

Layla wished she could say the same. Her clothes stuck to her tightly from the dampness of her skin, her boots were filled with sand that was rubbing against her ankles and creating blisters, and her lungs felt like they were aflame from all the exercise. But in her defence, she was pretty sure they had been walking for a day straight without any stops. She wouldn't even mention how thirsty she was. Her flask had run out of water around hour ten.

"Keep up, Layla," Jaha didn't turn to look at her or acknowledge the struggle she was going through to actually keep up with them. "We must not slow down."

Layla let out a huff and stomped heavily to catch up. It was as if Jaha and Otan were inhumane and didn't feel basic needs or pain.

"All of that resistance that your body is giving you could be erased, Layla," said Otan, giving her a smile that seemed robotic. "All you have to do is swallow the key to the City of Light."

Layla rolled her eyes but her reluctance to take the chip was wavering. She had no one to hold her back now. Nobody to answer to.

"I can't." She told him softly.

"Why not?" Jaha asked, joining the conversation. "You deal with so much, Layla. Loss, abandonment, pain. But you don't have to. I want to help you."