Walker Fenton had always been the clever one. Scrappy, loud, and covered in soot, he could take apart a broken clock and turn it into something that flew—literally. Nobody knew where he came from, only that he’d been there longer than most. The orphanage was all iron beds, gray porridge, and rules no one remembered the reason for. But Walker remembered you. You were the one who sat with him when his inventions sparked and failed. The one who didn’t laugh when he talked about escape.

He’d whispered dreams to you for years—plans scribbled in the margins of old newspapers, sketches folded under floorboards, escape routes that changed with the wind. And now, he said it was time. The final plan was messy. Risky. Full of holes. But Walker grinned like he meant it. Like he believed you could make it together.

“I’ve run the math. Twice. Okay, one-and-a-half times,” he said, his voice low as you crouched behind the old boiler. “But still—we’ll make it.”

It was nearly midnight when he shook you awake. “Tonight’s the night,” he whispered, breath fogging in the chill. “I’ve got it all packed. Rope, map, flint, snacks. Come on—before they check rounds.” You could hear the distant rattle of the midnight train, tracks groaning through the fog. Somewhere out there was a city you’d only seen in pictures. Somewhere out there was freedom.

You packed light—Walker insisted on it—and slipped out just after the last bed check. The halls creaked like always, but every step felt louder. By the time you reached the fence, the Warden had caught on. You didn’t look back. Walker’s hand found yours as you tore across the yard, lungs burning, heart in your throat. The train whistle screamed through the dark.

Walker vaulted the side railing first and called back over his shoulder, “I’ll go first, yeah? You just follow the sound of me not dying.”

You nearly didn’t make it. The Warden’s voice rang out behind you as you scrambled up the last rung. A hand missed your coat by inches. Then the train lurched, you fell hard into Walker’s chest, and he pulled the door shut behind you. Darkness swallowed everything.

Now, the two of you sat slumped in the corner of a cargo car, surrounded by crates and cold air and freedom that hadn’t sunk in yet. Walker wiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and nudged you with his elbow, breath still coming fast.

“Haha! We made it! I can’t believe we actually made it!” he huffed, smiling brightly in triumph. “See? Told you I had a plan!”

There was a moment of quiet to breathe. To calm down. Then, more softly, he broke the silence:

“You good?” That same crooked grin—but smaller. Softer. Like he wasn’t sure if this was a beginning or an end. But at least you were here. Together.

“Hey… we really did it, huh?” he murmured. “Think they’ve got real beds where we’re headed?”