Sorry for the wait. We have a short chapter today. Let me know what you think!

Names:

Libya—Ahmed Masli

New Mexico—Manuel Jones


March 16, 2029, 22:00

Benghazi, American Libya

New Mexico frowned, eyeing his equipment. Here he had his secure laptop, several microscopes, and hard copies of his research spread out over his bed, ready to be packed. On his desk laid several markers and pencils, along with a tablet and several more binders of research. With them on a test tube rack were several sterilized samples of the Vipeaira virus, along with one of the VEV.

What to take, what to take… He had one backpack. He couldn't fit all of this in.

A loud, shattering 'boom!' vibrated outside, causing the windows to rattle in response. Hitting himself lightly on the cheeks, Manuel forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Finally, he grabbed his laptop and stuffed it in, along with two pencils, a marker, and three binders of research, deciding to leave the tablet, samples of the virus, and the rest of binders behind.

"Manuel!" Ahmed's voice carried over the noise outside. "Hurry! Stop dawdling and let's get going!"

"Coming!" Manuel cried, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. He staggered under the weight of it for a moment before regaining his balance and rushing out of the bedroom he'd been living in for a little over two and a half years and into the hallway.

It had all been so sudden. Manuel was still trying to digest what had happened in the last ten minutes. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, or twenty-two hours in military time. Libya, the man he'd been living with and someone he had grown to consider a close friend had shaken him awake almost violently and told him to pack whatever he could in their backpack, and that they were leaving. He still didn't know what was going on, but the blasting rockets and gunfire outside was enough incentive for him to listen without question.

He entered the main room, where Ahmed was finishing shoving some canned food and bottled water into his own pack. He glanced up at the young boy.

"You're still in your nightclothes?" He asked. Manuel looked down and realized that in his rush, he hadn't bothered to change out of his dark red and white pajamas. He shrugged helplessly and Ahmed sighed, standing up. Manuel realized with a start that he had started loading a rifle. "Never mind that. We need to go. Now. Grab your shoes; you can survive without socks."

"What's going on?" Manuel asked, now frightened completely, struggling to pull on his sneakers with shaking hands. "I thought we were leaving next week!"

"New Abyssinia has made a push towards the city," Libya explained as he finished loading his gun. "His navy has landed in the harbor, and we are completely unprepared for an attack from that front."

"But New Abyssinia's navy doesn't have a port on the Mediterranean to dock at!" Manuel cried. "How could he have gotten here?!"

"Sure he does." Libya stood up and New Mexico followed him as he went for the front door. "We just didn't know he could capture it so quickly."

"Tripoli," Manuel breathed in realization. The North African nodded. "I felt my capitol fall three days earlier than expected four hours ago, but I never expected an attack to be launched here so quickly. Now, we need to leave."

Manuel gulped and nodded. They exited the house, and Libya locked the door behind him. In the starry night sky above them, there was a flash and screeching cry of metal on metal. The young nation looked up to see a plane, flaming tendrils sparking into the sky as it descended to the ground. It descended scarcely a hundred yards over his head and crashed some ways away, a deafening boom shaking the ground. A fireball exploded into the night sky a moment later, bathing them in a dull, yellow-orange glow. Libya winced and cursed to himself.

"Come on!" He grabbed Manuel's hand and dragged him into the street. All around him there were people, most still in their nightwear, stepping out to see what was going on. Most were panicking and there was the sound of cars starting up. Some were Africans, but many in this area were Americans, some of whom were New Mexico's own citizens.

They're innocent, the thought slowly crept through his mind, past the haze of shock that covered his mind. They were just here to cure the virus and save lives. Why are they getting targeted?

Libya continued to drag them down the length of the street, ignoring the screeching of planes as they fought in the air, and the rush of bombs that were steadily creeping closer and closer. There was no time to grab a car—the streets were much too crowded to drive successfully anyway—so they ran. And ran. And ran.

A half an hour must have passed before Libya even showed signs of slowing down, and even then it was most likely because of Manuel and the fact that he was tripping over his feet trying to keep up. He'd only gotten two hours of sleep so far and was exhausted. The heavy pack he was carrying wasn't helping matters, either.

They exited the neighborhood and left the streets and panicked people behind, moving into the open country. Concrete and asphalt turned into rock and dirt, and New Mexico had to watch his step to avoid falling. Libya had yet to let go of his wrist, which was beginning to ache under the nation's tight grip, so by the time a half hour passed, he was practically being dragged along. The desert night air was cool and crisp, but with the smoke beginning to clog it, he couldn't breathe well, either.

"Manuel," Libya spoke, breaking a tense silence. "Manuel, I need you to listen to me, alright?"

New Mexico couldn't speak, so he forced himself to nod. Ahmed slowed down even further, looking at him with concern. The American state noticed quite abruptly that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. He hurried to wipe them away before they could be seen any longer. Finally, the North African stopped completely between two small rises in the ground, around as high as Manuel's chest, and knelt down.

"Manuel, Manuel," he let go of the boy's wrist and massaged it gently. "Have I ever lied to you? Has your father ever lied to you?"

"N-n-no," it came out as a sob. Manuel wiped even more at his eyes, trying desperately to stop crying. "D-dad did, o-once. Ap-april F-fool's."

There was a distant crash in the background. Another set of bombs had been dropped. Libya looked over his shoulder in the direction of Benghazi. Manuel moved to copy him, but then two large hands cupped his cheeks and gently forced to him to keep looking away.

"Well, not over anything serious, right?" Ahmed laughed, but it was forced. He coughed suddenly, hacking flecks of red into his elbow. He quickly waved off New Mexico's worried hands as he tried to help. "Don't worry about that. Side effect of the invasion. Answer my question."

"No…"

"Remember when your father left me with you, back in 2025? And how he made me promise never to let you get hurt?"

"Y-yes."

"You have to believe me, alright? I will never, ever let these men come and catch you. I will never let them hurt you. Manuel, you are such an amazing child, and it's truly been an honor to work with you. You are smart, correct?"

"Not-not street smart. I-I-I can't do this."

"Yes you can, child. Now listen to me. You're going to Al Bayda, alright? Do remember the city?"

Manuel nodded. He had never been there, but it was another city nearby, in American Libya. However, it was used for military operations, contrasting Benghazi's scientific purpose.

"Now this city is a long ways away, around one hundred miles. I brought food and water, but I'm not sure how much, so you'll have to ration. Nod for me so that I know you understand."

He nodded.

"Al Bayda," he turned them to face away from Benghazi as another carpet of bombs dropped behind them. "Is in this direction. See that star? Over there." He pointed to a particularly bright star in the east.

"Y-yeah. T-that's Vega, right?"

"Good. You know the night sky?"

"A bit. Arizona taught me a little[1]."

"Good. You follow that star, alright? Follow that star and you'll be going in the general direction of Al Bayda. You need to keep moving. Don't stop whenever possible. Travel at night and keep out of sight." Ahmed took off his own backpack, and Manuel felt horror rise in him.

"No, no Ahmed! You can't leave me!"

"Manuel. I asked you to trust me, right?"

"Right…?"

"New Abyssinia is going to track us. He came to find out what we knew about the virus, that much is clear to me. And who carries the most vital information about it on his back and in his head?" Manuel's hands trailed up to the straps of his backpack. "I know. I need to hold them off so you can get a head start, alright? They're already after us, but there's a small grove of trees and an oasis five miles east. Follow Vega and you should come across it. Stay there for the rest of the night, sleep through the day, and move only in darkness. Find your father."

"Ahmed, I can't leave you…" He was crying again, but he couldn't help it. Desperately, he tried to cling to any sense of professionalism he had found when talking to Romano about the virus or to his father. It just slipped through his fingers, and left him a frightened little boy.

"Don't cry, Manuel. We will meet again." Ahmed turned to glance at Benghazi, but again, did not let New Mexico look. "I'd follow you, but my strength is fading with my country. Now you must go." He clicked something on his backpack, and a handle popped out. It was a rolling pack. He could let it roll behind him like a suitcase.

He planned this.

"Please don't go," Manuel wiped at his eyes again. Before Ahmed could respond, there was the popping of gunfire around a mile or so away.

"I'm sorry. Now go!" He was being pushed now. "And don't look back!"

Manuel took one step, and then another, and then he was running, trying to keep himself silent and low to the ground, like he had been taught back at home[2]. The shouts were louder now, but there were many dips in the ground, so he stuck to them to keep himself out of sight. But, finally, the burning worry inside of him made him risk a furtive glance behind him. And he gasped, nearly stopping altogether.

Benghazi lit the night sky, a massive fire burning into space.


[1]- Arizona is pretty famous for having some of the best stargazing places in the US and a ton of observatories. She and New Mexico are very close, so she taught him a little about astronomy.

[2]- Native Americans