The bus station in Racine was smaller than Sarah had expected. Just a single-story building with peeling paint and a handwritten sign that said "Tickets Inside." Three buses parked in the lot. Maybe a dozen people waiting. Most of them looked like they'd been traveling for days. Sarah and Park fit right in. They'd walked from the library to downtown Kenosha. Found a local transit bus that ran to Racine. Paid cash. Kept their heads down. No one had looked at them twice. Now they stood outside the Racine station, studying the posted schedule. Trying to figure out which route would get them to Chicago with the least exposure. "There's a bus at eleven-forty," Park said, pointing. "Goes to Gary, Indiana. From there we can catch another one into Chicago." "Two transfers. More time." "But Gary's smaller. Less security than going straight into Chicago." Sarah considered this. Park was right. Smaller stations meant less scrutiny. Less chance of running into federal agents or local cop

Platform two was open-air. Just a concrete slab with a metal awning that provided minimal shelter from the wind.Sarah stood near the edge, watching the street. Park was beside her, hands shoved deep in her pockets. Neither of them spoke.The wind coming off the lake was cold. Bitter. It cut through Sarah's jacket like the fabric wasn't even there. She was already shivering.How long had they been standing here? Ten minutes? Fifteen?The digital display above the platform said the next Chicago bus would arrive at 1:30 PM. Sarah checked the time on a clock mounted to the station building. 1:18 PM.Twelve more minutes.She could last twelve more minutes.Around them, other passengers waited. A handful of people. Most looked like they'd been traveling for days. Worn clothes. Tired eyes. The kind of people who took buses because they had no other choice.Sarah and Park fit right in.A man in a heavy coat stood near the trash can, smoking. The smoke drifted over, acrid and stale. Sarah fou

Marcus woke to the sound of sirens.His hand was on his weapon before his eyes were fully open. Instinct. Muscle memory from too many years in combat zones.The sirens were distant. Moving away, not toward them. Just an ambulance or fire truck. Nothing to do with him.He relaxed. Marginally.Torres was still asleep on the bench beside him. Mouth open. Snoring softly. Dead to the world.Marcus checked his watch. 4:47 PM.He'd slept for almost six hours. Hadn't meant to. Had only meant to rest his eyes for a few minutes while Torres took over watch. But exhaustion had won.Sloppy. Dangerous.He looked around the park. Late afternoon now. The light was different. Golden. The sun low in the sky. More people than there had been this morning. Kids on the playground. A couple throwing a frisbee. An old man feeding pigeons.No one paying attention to two men sleeping on a bench.Good.Marcus stood. His back screamed in protest. Sleeping sitting up was never comfortable. Sleeping on a park ben

The coffee shop was warm. Almost too warm after the chill outside.Marcus sat at the window table, nursing his second cup of coffee. It had gone cold twenty minutes ago but he kept holding it anyway. Gave him something to do with his hands. Made him look like he belonged here.Torres was across from him. Staring at his phone. Not turned on; they'd agreed no phones, just turning it over and over in his hands. Nervous habit."You're going to wear a hole in that thing," Marcus said quietly.Torres set the phone down. "Sorry. Just... waiting is harder than moving.""Always is."Through the window, Marcus watched Willis Tower. Watched the people coming and going. Tourists mostly. Families finishing their day at the Skydeck. Couples taking evening photos.Normal activity. Nothing suspicious.But normal could be deceiving.6:51 PM.A waitress came by. Young. College age. Tired smile. "You guys want anything else? More coffee?"Marcus shook his head. "We're good. Thank you."She left the chec

8:47 PM.Marcus paid for another round of coffee. Neither he nor Torres wanted it. But staying in the coffee shop without ordering would draw attention eventually.The waitress brought two fresh cups. Smiled. Moved on to other tables.Marcus wrapped his hands around the mug. Let the heat seep into his palms. His hands were cold. Had been for hours. The kind of cold that came from sitting still too long. From adrenaline wearing off and leaving you empty.Torres was staring out the window again. Watching Willis Tower. His knee bouncing under the table."You need to calm down," Marcus said quietly."I am calm.""Your leg says otherwise."Torres stopped bouncing. "Sorry. Nervous habit.""I know. But nervous habits draw attention.""Right. Sorry."Marcus took a sip of coffee. It was too hot. Burned his tongue. He set it down to cool.8:53 PM.The coffee shop had settled into dinner mode. Most tables were full now. Couples. Small groups. A few people eating alone while scrolling through pho