Behind a nearby headstone stood a boy—thin, dirty, dressed in worn-out clothes, a cap slipping over his eyes. He looked about eight, maybe nine, but his gaze carried far more years than that.
Ethan wiped his face. “Hey… are you lost?”
The boy hesitated, stepping forward slowly, studying him like it was dangerous to speak. When he finally did, his voice was soft.
“Sir… are you crying for them?”
“For who?” Ethan asked, though his chest already tightened.
The boy pointed at the grave. “The twins… right?”
Ethan felt the air leave his lungs. “Yes. Lily and Chloe… my daughters.”
The boy lowered his head. “Sir… don’t cry.”
Pain flickered into irritation. “You don’t understand. My daughters are gone. I can’t just stop.”
The boy looked up, fear clear in his eyes. “They’re not there.”
Everything went still.
“What did you say?”
The boy glanced around nervously. Then, barely above a whisper:
“They’re at the dump.”
Ethan froze. “What?”
The boy stepped back. “I didn’t mean to scare you…”
Ethan stood abruptly, his eyes filled with something impossible—fear and hope tangled together. “Explain. Now.”
The boy swallowed hard. “They’re alive.”
The fog seemed heavier, the world sharper. Every doubt Ethan had buried suddenly surfaced.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Marcus.”
“Marcus… where are they?”
“At the dump.”
“Did you see them?”
Marcus nodded. “I look for food there. One night, I heard crying. Two little girls. Together. They had hospital bracelets… with names. Lily. Chloe.”
Ethan staggered slightly, gripping a headstone for support. “No… no…”
“I’m telling the truth,” Marcus insisted. “I’ve been taking care of them. Food, water… whatever I find.”
Horror surged through Ethan. “They’ve been living there?”
Marcus looked down, ashamed for something that wasn’t his fault. “I didn’t tell anyone… I thought you were like the people who left them.”
“Did you see who did it?”
“I saw a white van… and heard adults laughing.”
Pieces clicked together—Vanessa’s behavior, inconsistencies, everything.
“Take me there,” Ethan said, voice breaking.
Marcus hesitated, then nodded. “We’ll go a different way.”
They left the cemetery. The city shifted around them—from polished streets to broken alleys, from glass towers to crumbling walls. Ethan followed a boy who knew survival better than comfort.
After twenty minutes, Marcus pointed ahead.
The dump stretched endlessly—smoke, garbage, decay.
“There.”