The vision faded gradually, leaving Ikenna drained but not as disoriented as previous experiences. He opened his eyes to find Sarah watching him intently from her bed.

  "Another vision?" she asked quietly.

  Ikenna nodded, reaching for his notebook to record what he'd seen while it was still fresh. "They're developing technology to suppress abilities—inhibitor colrs—but it's crude, unreliable. Causes side effects." His hand moved quickly across the page, sketching the device he'd seen. "And the Exigenes are still growing stronger. The Steelback Titan is thirty meters tall now, practically invulnerable to conventional weapons."

  "What about Meridian's Crossing?" Sarah asked. "Did you see anything more about the people waiting for you there?"

  "Yes," Ikenna said, sketching the faces he'd seen with greater crity than before. "The woman... she called herself a 'Namer.' And the man seems to be able to manipute concepts somehow—his skin ripples with patterns that represent ideas." He looked up at Sarah. "And they called me 'the Seer.' They know what I can do, what I am."

  "How is that possible?" Sarah asked, moving to sit beside him, examining his drawings.

  "I don't know," Ikenna admitted. "But they understand what's happening better than anyone else. They talked about the world breaking apart, divisions deepening. Human against Enhanced, Enhanced against Exigene, government against citizen." He closed the notebook, meeting Sarah's concerned gaze. "We need to find them. Soon. Before whatever window they mentioned closes completely."

  Sarah nodded, determination hardening her features. "Then we leave at first light. Take back roads, avoid checkpoints. If we're careful and lucky, we can make it to Nevada in three days."

  "And if we're not lucky?" Sarah's voice was quiet but steady as she returned to her own bed. "Then we adapt. That's what all this is about, isn't it? Learning to survive in a world that's changing faster than anyone can keep up with."

  Ikenna id back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "I keep thinking about all the people out there who don't have a destination. Who don't have visions guiding them somewhere safe. What happens to them?"

  "Some register," Sarah said pragmatically. "Some hide. Some fight. Some form communities for protection." She sighed. "All anyone can do is what they think gives them the best chance of survival."

  Ikenna nodded, though the thought gave him little comfort. In the silence that followed, the enormity of their situation settled over them like a physical weight—two college students on the run, bearing abilities they barely understood, heading toward a destination that existed only in visions.

  "Try to get some sleep," Sarah eventually said, turning off the st mp. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

  But sleep, when it finally came for Ikenna, brought no rest—only more fragments of a world coming apart at the seams.

  ......

  Morning arrived with a cold, gray light filtering through thin curtains. Ikenna woke with a start, momentarily disoriented until the events of the previous day rushed back. Sarah was already up, methodically packing their supplies, her movements quick and efficient.

  "There's a situation," she said without preamble when she noticed he was awake. She nodded toward the window. "Look outside, but stay back from the curtain."

  Ikenna approached cautiously, peering through a narrow gap. In the motel parking lot, two police cruisers had parked haphazardly, lights fshing silently. Officers were going door to door, one holding what appeared to be a photograph that he showed to the motel manager.

  "Are they looking for us?" he whispered, pulse quickening.

  "I don't know," Sarah replied, zipping her backpack closed. "But I'm not waiting to find out. There's a back exit through the undry room. I checked it st night before we went to sleep."

  "Always thinking ahead," Ikenna said, hastily stuffing his belongings into his backpack.

  "Paranoia is a survival skill these days." Sarah's attempt at humor fell ft, tension evident in every line of her body. "Ready?"

  Ikenna nodded, shouldering his pack. They moved silently to the door, listening for any sounds in the hallway. Hearing nothing, Sarah carefully removed the chair wedged against the handle and eased the door open just enough to peek out.

  "Clear," she whispered. "Laundry room is at the end of the hall, left side."

  They slipped out, closing the door quietly behind them. The hallway was deserted, the only sound the distant hum of a vending machine. They moved quickly but carefully, hyperaware of every creak in the worn carpet beneath their feet.

  The undry room was small and musty, ancient washing machines standing silent against one wall. A rear door with a push-bar handle bore an "Emergency Exit Only - Arm Will Sound" sign, but Sarah pointed to where the arm had been disabled, wires hanging loosely from a broken pstic housing.

  "Someone's been using this as an escape route before us," she murmured, pushing the bar slowly to minimize noise. The door swung open to reveal a narrow alley behind the motel, lined with dumpsters and discarded furniture.

  "My car's still out front," Sarah said as they slipped outside. "We'll have to leave it."

  Ikenna felt a pang at the resignation in her voice. The Honda was probably her most valuable possession, and now they were abandoning it. Another sacrifice in a growing list.

  "I'm sorry," he began, but she shook her head sharply.

  "Don't. Not now. We need to move."

  The alley connected to a service road that ran behind the row of businesses adjacent to the motel. They followed it, keeping close to the buildings, alert for any sign of pursuit. The morning air was surprisingly cool, their breath forming small clouds as they hurried along.

  "We need transportation," Sarah said as they emerged onto a residential street a few blocks from the motel. "And a new pn."

  Before Ikenna could respond, the pressure behind his eyes surged without warning. Not the gradual build-up he'd come to expect, but a sudden, intense fsh that dropped him to his knees with a gasp of pain.

  Fsh: Two police officers examining the room they'd just left, one speaking into a radio: "Affirmative, subjects were here, currently in pursuit."

  Fsh: A helicopter view of the town, thermal imaging scanning the streets methodically.

  Fsh: Their faces on a digital bulletin board beled "Potential Enhanced Subjects - Approach With Caution."

  The images vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving Ikenna breathing hard, Sarah's arm around his shoulders as she helped him to his feet.

  "What did you see?" she asked urgently, guiding him toward the cover of a rge oak tree in someone's front yard.

  "They know we were there," he gasped, head still throbbing. "They're looking for us specifically. Helicopter with thermal imaging. Our faces on some kind of watch list."

  "Shit," Sarah hissed, scanning the sky. "How did they find us so quickly?"

  "I don't know. Maybe the university security officers, maybe the motel clerk, maybe—" He broke off, eyes widening. "The Wi-Fi. I connected to the motel Wi-Fi st night to check the news."

  "Dammit." Sarah's face hardened. "Rookie mistake. They're probably monitoring connection attempts from known Enhanced individuals."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

  "It doesn't matter now," she cut him off. "We need to get off the streets before that helicopter arrives."

  A distant mechanical thrum suggested it might already be too te. Sarah grabbed his arm, pulling him deeper into the residential neighborhood, away from the main roads. Houses here were modest and close together, many showing signs of neglect—untended yards, newspapers piled on porches, drawn curtains.

  "People leaving for safer areas," Sarah commented as they hurried past. "Or not willing to venture outside anymore."

  They rounded a corner and froze. A police cruiser moved slowly down the street ahead of them, an officer scanning the sidewalks with focused attention. They ducked behind a hedge, hearts pounding.

  "We need to split up," Sarah whispered. "Double their search area."

  "No," Ikenna said immediately. "Bad idea. We're stronger together."

  "We're more noticeable together," she countered. "Two college-aged kids running through the streets? Might as well wave a fg."

  The helicopter sound grew louder, now clearly identifiable as rotors beating the air. Time was running out.

  "Listen," Sarah said, gripping his shoulders. "I can create a distraction. Draw them away from you. I've been practicing more than I let on—I can handle myself."

  "Sarah—"

  "Get to Nevada," she insisted. "Find these people from your visions. I'll catch up if I can."

  "How?" Ikenna demanded. "How will you find me?"

  "Meridian's Crossing, right?" She attempted a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Not exactly a metropolis. I'll find you."

  Before he could argue further, she pointed to a house across the street. "That pce looks empty. Break in if you have to, hide until dark, then get moving again. Stay off main roads, avoid public Wi-Fi, pay cash for everything."

  The police cruiser was moving closer. The helicopter sound now dominated the quiet morning air.

  "Go," Sarah urged. "I'll buy you time."

  Ikenna wanted to protest, to insist they stay together, but the determination in her eyes stopped him. She had made her decision. And deep down, he knew she was right—together, they were too conspicuous, too easily trapped.

  "Be careful," he said finally, gripping her hand tightly. "And thank you. For everything."

  "Just make it worth it," she replied. "Find answers. Find a way to help people like us."

  Then she was gone, sprinting down the street in full view, deliberately making noise. The police cruiser's engine revved as it accelerated in pursuit. Overhead, the helicopter banked sharply, following her movement.

  Ikenna didn't waste the opportunity she had given him. He dashed across the street to the house she had indicated—a small ranch-style home with unopened newspapers on the porch and an empty driveway. The front door was locked, but a quick check of the rear revealed a bathroom window left slightly ajar. With effort, he managed to slide it open enough to squeeze through, tumbling onto the tiled floor inside.

  The house was still and silent, a thin yer of dust covering the surfaces. Family photos lined the walls—parents with two young children, smiling in happier times. On the refrigerator, a hastily scrawled note: "Gone to Aunt Cire's. Call when you get this."

  Ikenna moved through the house, closing blinds and curtains to ensure no one could see inside. He found the most interior room—a small home office with no windows—and settled in to wait, his backpack clutched to his chest, ears straining for any sound of approach.

  Hours crawled by. Occasionally, he heard vehicles passing, once the distinctive sound of the helicopter returning, but no one approached the house. As daylight began to fade, hunger gnawed at his stomach. He hadn't eaten since the previous evening.

  With cautious steps, he made his way to the kitchen. The refrigerator held only condiments and spoiled milk, but the pantry contained canned goods and dry pasta. He took only what he absolutely needed—a can of baked beans and a bottle of water—leaving behind an apologetic note and a twenty-dolr bill from his dwindling cash supply.

  As he ate the cold beans straight from the can, huddled in the darkened office, the reality of his situation pressed down on him. Sarah was gone, possibly captured. He was alone, hundreds of miles from his destination, with authorities actively searching for him. The weight of it threatened to overwhelm him.

  Yet beneath the fear and uncertainty, something else stirred—a sense of purpose that had been building since his first vision. He wasn't running blindly; he was moving toward something, toward people who might have answers, who might know how to navigate this new and dangerous world.

  When full darkness fell, Ikenna prepared to leave. He repacked his backpack, adding a few essential items from the house—a fshlight, batteries, a small first aid kit—careful to take only what the absent family could spare. At the st minute, he found a faded baseball cap in a closet and put it on, pulling the brim low over his face.

  The night was cloudy and cool as he slipped out the back door, keeping to shadows as he made his way through residential streets toward the edge of town. Police presence seemed to have diminished—either they had captured Sarah or expanded their search area beyond the immediate vicinity. The thought of Sarah in custody made his stomach clench, but he forced himself to focus on moving forward. Getting caught wouldn't help either of them.

  At the town's periphery, a gas station convenience store remained open, its fluorescent lights harshly illuminating a nearly empty parking lot. Through the windows, Ikenna could see a bored clerk watching a small television, seemingly alone.

  He needed information, supplies, and ideally, transportation. Pulling the cap lower and adopting a casual stride, he approached the store, alert for any sign of danger.

  The bell above the door jingled as he entered. The clerk—an older man with thinning gray hair and tired eyes—gnced up briefly, then returned his attention to the television where a news anchor was reporting on fuel shortages in the midwest.

  Ikenna moved through the aisles, gathering energy bars, beef jerky, water bottles, and a cheap prepaid phone. As he approached the counter, the news broadcast shifted to a "Public Safety Alert" showing two photographs. Ikenna's heart stopped as he recognized himself and Sarah, their university ID photos dispyed beside the caption: "ENHANCED INDIVIDUALS - POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS."

  The clerk, focused on the screen, didn't immediately notice Ikenna's reaction. The anchor's voice continued, "...st seen in the Millfield area. Authorities warn the public not to approach these individuals but to report any sightings immediately. They are wanted for questioning in connection with an incident at Eastke University."

  Ikenna pced his items on the counter, keeping his head down, praying the clerk was too distracted or disinterested to make the connection. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers curling around his wallet, ready to pay and leave as quickly as possible.

  The clerk rang up the items mechanically, still watching the broadcast. "Crazy world, isn't it?" he commented. "All these freaks popping up everywhere. Government should round 'em all up, if you ask me."

  Ikenna made a noncommittal sound, heart hammering so loudly he was certain the clerk must hear it.

  "That'll be 42.75," the clerk said, finally turning his attention to Ikenna.

  As their eyes met, Ikenna saw the moment of recognition dawning in the older man's face—the slight widening of the eyes, the parting of lips in surprise. Time seemed to stretch between them, a single moment extending into an agonizing eternity.

  Then, unexpectedly, the clerk's expression shifted. He gnced at the TV, then back at Ikenna, and deliberately lowered his voice. "You need a ride out of town, don't you?"

  Ikenna froze, unsure how to respond, trapped between fear and desperate hope.

  "My son," the clerk continued, still in that quiet, careful tone. "After the rain, he started having... episodes. Seeing things before they happened. Governments men came for him three weeks ago. Haven't heard from him since." His eyes, suddenly damp, held Ikenna's. "Said it was for his own protection."

  Understanding bloomed between them—a connection forged in shared pain and fear.

  "I'm heading west," Ikenna said simply.

  The clerk nodded once, decisively. "My shift ends in twenty minutes. There's a loading dock around back. I'll meet you there."

  "Why would you help me?" Ikenna had to ask, still wary of a trap.

  The clerk's weathered face hardened. "Because someone should have helped my boy."

  Twenty minutes ter, Ikenna sat in the passenger seat of an ancient pickup truck, the gas station receding in the side mirror as the clerk—who introduced himself only as "Jim"—drove them steadily away from town.

  "I can take you as far as the state line," Jim said, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. "Got a cousin there who might be able to help you further."

  "Thank you," Ikenna said, the words wholly inadequate for the risk this stranger was taking.

  "Don't thank me," Jim replied gruffly. "Just... if you find somewhere safe, somewhere they're not hunting people like you, send word somehow. For the others. For the families still waiting."

  Ikenna nodded, throat tight with emotion. "I will."

  As the truck carried him westward through the night, Ikenna stared out at the stars barely visible through gathering clouds. Somewhere out there, Sarah might be facing interrogation, imprisonment, or worse. Somewhere, the two figures from his visions waited in a desert town, holding answers to questions he was only beginning to formute. And across the country, countless others like him were making simir journeys—fleeing, hiding, searching for safety in a world that increasingly viewed them as threats.

  The enormity of it all threatened to crush him. But as the miles passed, he felt something crystallizing within him—a resolve that went beyond mere survival. This journey wasn't just about saving himself anymore. It was about finding a path forward, not just for him, but for all those the rain had changed.

  For Sarah. For Jim's son. For the Enhanced being hunted across the country. For the frightened teenager in his vision, hiding beneath a hood at a checkpoint.

  For a world breaking apart at its seams, in desperate need of those who could see beyond the immediate chaos to whatever y on the other side.

  Meridian's Crossing awaited, and with it, perhaps, the first steps toward understanding what the golden rain had truly set in motion.