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The tracker chose to run behind us, unwilling to guess at our route. Every now and then I would catch the edge of his thoughts, but never more than a few words, or a view of the Jeep. He followed on higher ground, in the mountains, unconcerned when it took him miles from the road. He could still see us.
I didn't want to think about where Jungkook was now, what he might be doing and saying. It would be too distracting. But there were a few things left undone.
I whispered instructions to Namjoon and he texted them to Jimin's phone. It probably wasn't necessary, but it made me feel better.
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"Jungkook needs to eat at least three times every twenty-four-hour period. And hydration is important. He should have water on hand. Ideally eight hours of sleep."
Namjoon, still keeping the phone low, texted as quickly as I could speak.
"And..." I hesitated. "Tell Jimin not to talk about our conversation before in the Jeep. If Jungkook has questions, deflect them. Tell him I'm very serious about this."
Namjoon looked at me curiously, but typed my message. I imagined Jimin on the other end, rolling his eyes.
He only texted back the thumbs up emoji in acknowledgment. I took that to mean that Jungkook was still awake, and Jimin intended to keep my instructions to himself. He must see an unpleasant reckoning if he ignored me.
Hoseok was mostly thinking about what he would do when he had the tracker in his grasp. His imaginings were pleasant to watch.
When we had to refuel, I used one of the large gas cans Hoseok had loaded into the backseat. In my pocket, Jungkook's socks would leave the faintest trace of his scent in the air. I moved in a blurred rush, as if my only goal was to race away again, and I was pleased when the tracker came closer to watch. For a moment, he was no more than a mile away. I wanted to take advantage, to flip this flight into an ambush, but it was too soon. We were still too near the water.
I didn't try to be evasive about our route, driving in the straightest line the curving freeways allowed toward my destination. I hoped the tracker would interpret this the way I wanted him to—that I had a destination in mind, somewhere defensible, somewhere I felt safe. He knew little about us, but he knew this much: We had more physical assets available to us than the average nomad. Also, we were many. Perhaps he would imagine even more allies waiting in the forests to the north.
