My breaths were shallow and labored, but I couldn't stop running. If I stopped running it would make it that much easier for the Edison Group to recapture me. The forest surrounding the building that held me was thick. I knew at the edge was a town where I could hide. If only I could get there before they reached me. Just a bit farther. I could make it.

I would make it.

I could hardly see my own hand in front of my face it was so dark out. With only the moon to guide me, which, honestly, didn't help at all, I felt sure that I'd be safe from Edison for at least a while longer. Morning was on its way though, and I needed to find shelter before it arrived. I don't know how long I've been running, or how much father the town is. All I know is my feet are full of splinters and probably some glass, my face and arms have been scratched at by tree limbs and thorns from bushes, and my lungs feel as if they are on fire.

It's getting lighter out here, which is good and bad. Good because now that I can see I can avoid low tree limbs and other debris; bad because I'll be easier to be spotted Edison. I almost cry out in happiness when I see the trees are starting to thin out and I can see the edge of the forest approaching. I run out into someone's backyard and look around.

I need to find shelter fast.

My body tingles with a familiar sensation. A dead body is near, and it's fresh. I follow the feeling towards one of the smaller houses in the neighborhood. The back door is locked, but thankfully a window on the side of the house is unlocked and I sneak in through it. Treading carefully through the owner's kitchen, I don't hear anyone moving in the house, nor do I feel any souls. It doesn't take me very long to find the body I had sensed earlier. She's alone in her bed. It almost looks like she's sleeping.

But she'll never wake up.

I wait a couple more hours in the house. Waiting until other people make their way out of their homes to collect the morning's paper, or for Edison to pass through. I take the time to figure out where I am. From what I can tell I'm somewhere in Wyoming. When it finally seems to be an appropriate hour, I reanimate the old woman's body. It takes very little effort now for me to reanimate a corpse; the problem now is making sure I don't also reanimate every dead body in the area. After waiting a few moments, checking out the window to make sure I didn't summon anything unpleasant, I return to the woman and address her.

"G-g-get d-dressed," I paused, clearing my throat and trying to relax my tongue before I continued. "G-go to t-t-the near-r-rest Walm-mart and b-b-buy f-f-f-five sm-small t-sh-shirts and two j-j-j-jeans. A-a-and a b-belt," I added, just to be safe in case the jeans don't fit. "O-oh, and a hair d-d-dye, a-and," I stopped myself, frustrated. This was taking too long!

I walked into the kitched, found a scrap piece of paper and pen and wrote down every item I had already told her along with two bras in my size, a pack of small sized underwear, a box of hair dye—specifically writing down a light brown color—I was not going back to black, but I couldn't stay a blonde. I was too noticeable this way. After adding down a couple more toiletries, I faced the woman again and handed her the piece of paper. "Do y-y-you underst-st-stand this?" I ask.

She nods.

"C-can you g-g-et it f-f-f-or m-me?"

She nods again.

Hopefully no one tries to speak with her. I send her on her way, impressed that she can still drive in her post-mortem state. I stand in the kitchen for half a second before heading to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet is fully stocked, thankfully, so I decide to tend to my scratches and cuts from the forest. My feet burn with the splinters so I turn the tub water on and fill it just high enough with warm water so I can soak my feet. Hopefully all the little pieces of wood will ease out without me having to use tweezers.

After ten minutes, I pull my feet out and look them over. They're not pretty, but they look better than they did before I soaked them. Pulling out the disinfectant from the cabinet and dab it on the open wounds. I don't see any splinters, so hopefully they're all gone. I place some Band-Aids on the larger cuts and then do the same for the cuts on my arms and face.

Once I'm finished, I can hear the old woman making her way into the house. I meet her at the door, careful not to step outside in case anyone sees me and somehow recognize me. I take the toiletries and clothes back into the bathroom and shower all the dirt and gunk off my body and out of my hair. I even take extra time to shave my legs and arm pits, which have grown wildly out of hand since Edison wouldn't give me a razor. Now that I feel clean again—the first time in two years—I step out of the shower and dry off with a nice fluffy towel.

The steam on the mirror evaporates and I stop to stare at myself. Sure, there was the two-way mirror in my cell, but I never liked looking at it because I could feel them watching me. With this mirror I take my time to look over my body. I was always skinny but now I look starved. All my ribs are showing and I could rest items in the dips of my collarbone. My face doesn't look too different than what I remember. Yes, it's skinnier, but thankfully not too gaunt. The only real difference is my eyes. The circles showing my insomnia make me feel like a raccoon, and I know that even if my body returns to normal, I doubt those circles will ever leave.

I brush out my hair before grabbing the box of hair dye. On the model the color looks wonderful. Caramel brown, it says. I know it won't look the same on me, what with my pale skin, but it will do the job without making me look like some goth girl again. The timer goes off after twenty minutes and I wash out my hair again, and then dry it with the towel. I look at the mirror again and am pleased with what I see. I quickly get dressed—surprisingly the jeans fit without the need of belt—and pull the zip up hoodie on. A small smile pulls at my lips. Even though a reanimated corpse picked out these clothes, they look very nice. Especially the coral colored hoodie. The color itself just makes my smile a little bit bigger.

The woman is still waiting for me in the kitchen, and after eating a scrambled egg and some toast very quickly, we head out the door. "Dr-dr-drive to the near-rest Gr-great C-c-clips," I order, feeling a bit more confidant in my speaking abilities. The stutter was much better that time. The car ride was silent, not only because the woman couldn't speak, but also because the car didn't have a radio. The salon was practically empty, so I didn't have to wait to have my hair cut. Just like I wasn't given a razor, I wasn't given any haircuts in my two years at Edison. My hair had grown down to my waist and I hated it.

"What can I do for you?" The stylist asked.

"I'd l-like it j-j-just bel-low m-my sh-sh-shoulders, and s-some s-s-side bangs pl-please."

The stylist gave me a sympathetic look which I ignored. My stutter was getting better, so I didn't care if she thought I was pathetic or sad. I just wanted her to cut my hair. I thought the length would be good since they were still looking for a long hair blonde girl, not a short haired brunette with bangs. I hoped the bangs gave me some extra cover from vigilant Edison eyes.

When she was finished I looked much better. My eyes were still shadowed, of course, and I was still too thin, but thanks to the food I had eaten, the good shower, and now this haircut I was looking back to normal.

Back to whom I used to be.

That thought warmed my chest and a small smile graced my lips for the second time that morning. After the old woman paid we headed back to the car. "Dr-drive west," I told her. I had a plan to get back to Derek and the others and I hope it worked. First I needed to leave a false trail. Hopefully Edison hadn't realized what I had done yet and weren't following us this instant. If they did figure out that I hijacked this woman's body—which I really don't know how they would, but, hey, it's Edison—I needed to lead them on the wrong trail.

Hours went by and the only stops we made were two gas stations and several a. to withdraw money for me to take on my trip. I'm hoping Edison will see the use of the woman's credit card and that we're moving west. Well, that's my second hope. My first hope is that Edison never realizes where I went or who I'm with.

But I'm trying to be realistic.

It's around five o'clock by the time we pull up to an Amtrak train station. I tell the woman to stay in the car and run into the station. I buy one ticket heading to California with the credit card and another ticket heading to Iowa in cash. The train leaves in a little less than half an hour, so I quickly buy a sandwich, chips and a water bottle from a quick mart in the station and run back to the car where the woman sits staring out into space. I grab my bag of clothes from the back seat that I packed before we left and turn towards the woman. I bite my lip before saying, "Th-anks for a-all your h-h-help."

I know she doesn't really understand me. At least, I don't think she does since she doesn't respond, but I have doubts since she bought all the clothes so…fashionably, I guess. I shake my head, take her wallet and placing the credit card back inside, then I release her. Her mouth falls slack and her eyes are still open. I close them and close the door of her car. I'm hoping someone finds her soon and assumes she died naturally in the car, like if she had been in her bed.

I don't stick around. Heading back into the station I find my train and then my seat. My body is so tired, but I can't fall asleep, not yet. When the train starts gaining speed I can, but not yet. If I do now I'll summon something. Maybe the old woman and I can't deal with that right now. Rubbing my amulet between my fingers, I try to calm myself as they start to close the doors. I look around frantically for a moment, but then look more calmly. No one is looking at me; in fact most people are starting to fall asleep. My heart slows down and I look out the window. When I feel we're going fast enough so that I won't be able to summon anything to me, I let my eyes drift close and fall into the first peaceful slumber I've had for a long time.

When I wake up, I feel relieved. I slept the whole night without any interruptions and I feel great. A little dirty again but great nevertheless. I ask a conductor how far from Iowa City we are and he tells me only fifteen minutes. I wait anxiously, hoping this next part of my plan works. If it doesn't, then I have nothing. No way to find the others.

No way of getting back to Derek.

The train stops and I get off quickly, making my way to the nearest pay phone. I use some change from the dinner I bought yesterday and dial the number that I've burned into my memory. It was Kit's number back in Iowa and when we were stuck in Andrew's safe house. If he changed his number then I'm screwed. It rings four times before I hear a hesitant "Hello?"

My breath catches. Kit. It was Kit. I thanked whatever higher power there was before responding. "Kit?" I choke on a sob, warm tears pouring down my face. I'm sure I looked awful, red, puffy eyes, snot probably hanging from my nose, but I didn't care. All my pent up emotions, my fear, anger, frustrations and so on, were pouring out of me.

"Chloe?" I hear Kit ask, "Chloe is that you?" I calm my sobs long enough to reply,

"Can I c-come home?"

A/N: Chapter Number Two! WOOOO. Thanks for all the reviews, follow, alerts, EVERYTHING! You guys are great. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter and tell me what you think or if you have questions. I do have to say that I know there are no commercial trains in Iowa, but for the sake of the story I needed a train to go to Iowa. I think that's it!

Pastry~