Chapter 45: Desert Refuel

We descend onto a dusty airstrip in a desert expanse, the afternoon sun blazing. The heat blasts us as soon as the cabin door opens. My clothes cling to me, sweat beading on my brow.

Two men in grease-stained coveralls appear, fueling the plane while Zach paces, phone in hand. Marta keeps watch, a pistol holstered at her waist. Elena and I huddle near the shade of the plane, seeking relief.

She leans in, voice low. "They're charging more than I expected. I can cover it, but…" She trails off, face etched with worry. She's carrying a fraction of her old wealth, carefully hidden. Vasquez likely froze her primary accounts by now.

I feel my chest tighten. "And if we can't pay?"

Elena's gaze turns grim. "We can't let that happen."

We wait, nerves raw. Finally, Zach waves us over. "We leave in ten," he says curtly. "Next stop: crossing the border by nightfall."

I scan the scorching horizon, an uneasy churn in my gut. This pit-stop feels too exposed. Anyone could find us. As we climb back into the plane, a half-formed dread coils in my stomach: Is someone following us still?