I should have walked slower. I should have asked for a break. I should have broken my own ankle on a braid of tree roots. Because too soon, we were at the road.

“What the hell?” JP looked up and down the crumbling expanse, hands out at his sides. “What the living hell? Did we walk the wrong way?”

Mitch also checked the road, his hands clutching each other with nerves, or maybe it was excitement. “Uhh, maybe? No, let’s just, uh, get situated here…” He stalled for time. “So, we came from over there…” He spun around, pointing at nothing.

“What the fuck is going on?” Finally, Therese used the full expanse of her voice. Just then, two vans came peeling out of a nook in the bush on the other side, headed straight for us. JP dropped his bag and ran, knocking Therese to the ground as he did. She recovered fast and turned to run, making a wild grab for Sunny. I felt the pull of her body from mine and instinctively clutched her hand harder. Why did I hold her so tight? I might as well have been clutching her to me while I dropped off the side of a cliff.

Therese screamed and kept running, her arms empty. The Recruiters were climbing out of the vans, their sunglasses replaced by headlamps with bright lights. Mitch was bent over in the road, his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths. It was over for him. He’d done it. The team would make short work of collecting the runners, and I had secured the smallest target.

I looked down at Sunny, the clomp of approaching footsteps echoing in my head. She was gazing up at me again—no judgment, no fear, just wide-open eyes. We both turned toward the vehicles. The high beams on the vans were too bright. Neither of us raised a hand to shield our eyes. We just squinted in the glare. I squeezed her hand harder; this time it was her who comforted me, because we were there together, and it was too late to run.

Standing by the ditch, I saw a reflective yellow road sign, the faded outline of a deer jumping and the words night danger half covered in dust. I was focused on that deer, jumping into a bright field of caution yellow, when the men reached us, when they pulled her out of my grip, when someone guided me to the vehicles. I reread that word—danger—over and over again.

“Great job,” someone told me, gesturing for me to climb into the second van.

“Heard we’re taking this one right back out tomorrow,” said another.

Mitch was in the van already, feet tapping on the floor, hands clasped between his knees to keep them from shaking. He started whispering right away, but I couldn’t make out the words.

One step closer to my family, to Rose, I told myself, shuffling into the back seat, backpack still on. But everything was different now. The person I was now after this one single day in the middle of thousands couldn’t even see Rose anymore; she was just an idea and not a girl. Because I was a traitor, certified and proven, and not a person.