The small cottage became their temporary sanctuary. The elderly woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Henderson, tended to their wounds with surprising skill. She didn't ask too many questions, sensing that her new guests were carrying burdens too heavy to share.
Ethan and Rebecca spent the night in the safety of the cottage, their bodies finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been chasing them for days. They slept fitfully, their dreams haunted by images of the violence they had escaped and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
The next morning, Ethan awoke to the smell of fresh coffee. He blinked in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and realized that for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he wasn't on high alert.
Rebecca was still asleep beside him, her face peaceful in the early light. Ethan carefully extricated himself from the blankets and made his way to the kitchen, where Mrs. Henderson was busy at the stove.
"Morning," she said without turning around, as if she had sensed his presence. "Coffee's on the table."
"Thank you," Ethan replied, his voice still rough from sleep. He poured himself a cup and took a sip, savoring the warmth.
Mrs. Henderson finally turned to face him, her eyes sharp and inquisitive. "You two are in some kind of trouble, aren't you?"
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was no point in lying. "Yes. But the less you know, the better."
The old woman nodded, seemingly unbothered by his evasiveness. "I figured as much. You don't look like the kind of man who brings trouble without reason. Whatever you're mixed up in, it must be important."
"It is," Ethan said quietly. "But it's not over yet."
"No, I suppose it isn't." Mrs. Henderson handed him a plate of eggs and toast. "You're going to need your strength."
As Ethan ate, his mind began to work on the next steps. They had bought themselves a little time, but they couldn't stay here forever. The files they had decrypted were the key to everything, and they needed to find a way to release them to the public.
After breakfast, Ethan returned to the living room, where Rebecca was now awake and sitting up, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked tired but determined.
"We need to get to a computer," Rebecca said as soon as Ethan sat down beside her. "We can't keep running. We have to release the files."
Ethan nodded. "I know. But we have to be smart about it. They'll be monitoring all the usual channels."
"Then we need to find a way to go public without getting caught," Rebecca said, her voice steady. "We've come this far. We can't let them win."
Mrs. Henderson, who had been quietly listening from the kitchen, suddenly spoke up. "There's an old internet café in town. It's been closed for years, but the owner left everything in there when he retired. Might be worth checking out."
Ethan looked at Rebecca, who nodded. It was a risk, but it was their best shot.
"Thank you," Ethan said to Mrs. Henderson, who waved off his gratitude with a dismissive hand.
"Just be careful," she warned. "This town's small, but word travels fast. You don't have much time."
Ethan and Rebecca prepared to leave, gathering what little they had brought with them. Before they left, Mrs. Henderson pressed a small bag of supplies into Rebecca's hands.
"Stay safe, dear," the old woman said, her voice softening. "You're doing something important. Don't let them stop you."
Rebecca squeezed her hand in thanks, and with that, they slipped out of the cottage and into the quiet morning streets of the town.
The internet café was just as Mrs. Henderson had described—dusty and abandoned, the windows boarded up. Ethan pried open the door with some effort, and they stepped inside, the stale air thick with the scent of disuse.
They found the old computers still plugged in, covered in a fine layer of dust. Ethan powered one up, and to his surprise, it hummed to life, the screen flickering before displaying the outdated operating system.
Rebecca sat down at the terminal, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she navigated through the system. "I'll route us through multiple proxies," she said, her voice all business. "It'll buy us some time."
Ethan kept watch by