He hadn't told anyone. There was no one left to tell. His sister had moved to the coast years ago, swallowed by the same system he was running from. His friends were too tired or too scared to look up from their screens.
Now, his truck sat idling fifty yards back, its radiator hissing a steady, rhythmic breath into the cooling air. The truck was loaded with everything he had left that couldn't be traced: a heavy canvas tent, a crate of dry goods, his grandfather’s brass compass, and a dog named Blue who was currently resting his chin on the passenger-side windowsill. Across the Line: The Exodus of Charlie Wright (...
Behind him lay the grid of the city, glowing like a dying ember in the twilight. Behind him were the tallies, the trackers, and the cold eyes of men who reduced a human life to a series of digital checks and balances. Charlie had spent forty years playing by their rules, keeping his head down, and watching the walls close in. He hadn't told anyone