Behind me—
“That’s it,” Aspen breathes.
Yeah.
It is.
I set it on the floor.
Everyone gathers closer.
Even the CIA.
I feel them.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hungry.
I don’t open it right away.
Instead—
I look at Aspen.
Her eyes are locked on it.
Fear.
Hope.
Everything in between.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods.
Barely.
I open the box.
Inside—
Oilcloth.
Wrapped tight.
Protected.
I unfold it slowly.
And there it is.
Maps.
Hand-drawn.
