Sunlight slanted through the cracked cabin window, dust motes swirling in the weak beams, tracing pale lines across the bodies sprawled on the floor. Ababeel's breathing had finally steadied, uneven but deliberate, a fragile rhythm replacing the hollow dissociation that had frozen her only moments before. Habeel watched her like a hawk, eyes scanning her every movement, making sure she didn't slip back into the abyss.
Then, shifting his weight with careful precision, he knelt beside one of the fallen soldiers. Fingers working quickly, he tugged at the uniform jacket, pulling it free from the corpse.
Ababeel's eyes shot wide, panic flaring."Are you seriously gonna be a pervert now!?"
Habeel froze, nearly toppling backwards from her sharp accusation."WHAT—WHAT THE HECK!? No! Why would—I'm not—WHAT is wrong with you!?"
She blinked at him, half dazed, half horrified, her voice trembling."I don't know! But… why are you taking off his clothes then!?"
"BECAUSE WE NEED A DISGUISE, ABABEEL!" His voice cracked as he waved his hands emphatically. "We can't walk around looking like… like—" He pointed at his dusty, blood-streaked self. "—like THIS!"
Her eyes widened in dawning comprehension."…Oh." She nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth twitching. "That… actually makes sense."
Habeel threw his hands up in triumph. "THANK YOU!"
They set to work, stripping the soldiers with grim determination. He avoided looking at anything that might make either of them falter. Ababeel's hands moved with a tense, deliberate steadiness, a surprising focus for someone still reeling from the trauma.
He tossed her a uniform."Let's play dress-up now."
She snorted, a brief flicker of humour breaking through the tension. "Ooooo, nice thinking."
Her eyes caught the faded flag stitched onto the jacket."The people with no place… suddenly claiming land like it's a supermarket discount day."
Habeel gave her a sharp, approving glance. "Darkhumourr. I approve—but wow."
They slipped into the oversized uniforms. Sleeves dangled past their wrists, boots were clunky and ill-fitting, and helmets tipped dangerously over their heads. They looked more like children playing dress-up than soldiers, but from a distance, they would pass.
Outside, the truck waited silently, a miracle among the wreckage. Habeel lifted her carefully, settling her into the passenger seat. She scanned the truck bed with alert, deliberate movements, sliding something into her jacket with quiet precision—a gun, fully loaded, hidden beneath her layers. Habeel didn't notice, too preoccupied with the crates stacked in the back.
"OH MY GOD—CANNED PEACHES!" he gasped, throwing his hands in the air. "And—is that BREAD? And WATER? We hit the jackpot—"
"Focus," Ababeel muttered, a calm anchor in the chaos.
"I am focusing," he protested, grabbing the wheel. "On survival essentials."
The engine roared to life, startling them both before settling into a steady hum. They rolled down the dirt path, leaving the cabin, the bodies, and the shadows of the night behind.
Minutes passed in tense silence, the woods closing around them like a living wall. Ababeel glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly."How are you feeling?"
Habeel's jaw clenched. Breathing shallow, he tried to mask the pain."I'm fine. Totally fine."
"You're gritting your teeth."
"No I'm not."
"You shaved off half your molars doing that."
"I DIDN'T!" he snapped, wincing when his arm throbbed.
"…We need to check your wounds," she said softly, voice careful but firm.
He waved her off with his good hand."Later. Once we're far. Once you're safe. I'll live."
Her gaze pinned him. Really pinned him."Stop acting like you're made of steel."
He shot her a glance, half-smile, half-grimace."And you…" He countered softly, "…stop acting like you're not."
Her eyes flicked forward again, scanning the dark road, the truck rattling over roots and rocks, the forest swallowing them whole.
They were two broken kids, stitched together by survival, wearing stolen uniforms, hurtling through a night filled with enemies—but breathing and moving.