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go-bag. The thought both worried him and gave him hope. Now that he was out, he needed to ditch his prison orange. It made him stand out, an easy target that others could recognize and identify him with. If Kathleen hadn’t gone to get the go-bag, then there might be a change of clothes and shoes waiting for him.

He began to change course and head for the warehouse. It was worth a shot. He hoped Lady Luck continued to favor him.

Max had never seen Chicago so dead before. The city had always been gritty, even dangerous at times, but now it felt as if it had completely lost its luster. Before, street vendors and bustling pedestrians, or even bikers swerving through honking traffic, had erased some of the Midwest bleakness. Now, the nearly empty streets unnerved Max. The silence made his breathing sound unusually loud. His footsteps seemed to ring in the air.

What had happened here? It felt as though the whole world had suddenly stopped existing. Still, he couldn’t risk being caught. Max unbuttoned the top of his orange jumpsuit and pushed it down to his waist. He had to ensure that the black MCC logo and his inmate number printed on the back weren’t visible. Sweat dotted his white undershirt as he tied the sleeves around his waist. It was all he could do until he found different clothes.

He wondered how long he’d been running. An hour? Early evening coated the sky in pink and blue hues. The prison still loomed behind him like a spire sticking into the sky, but it felt less oppressive the further away he got from it. His lungs ached from running and his heart thundered with adrenaline, but he couldn’t stop.

Soon, he began to spot familiar markers as he moved through the neighborhoods. When he finally spotted the derelict structure of Levi’s Warehouse, he let out a sigh of relief. The building had seen better days, which was exactly the reason why Max had picked it. As he let himself in the front door, he remembered meeting a cartel member for the first time there in the warehouse lobby. He’d seen the Virginia is for Lovers sticker on an old cabinet nailed to the wall and had laughed out loud. Back then, it felt like a sign. Fate, even. Later, when he’d decided he needed to plan in the event he had to leave the country, it was the first place he thought of to stash his go-bag.

A new second-hand clothing store had opened up in the warehouse, labeled as The Vintage Boutique. It was now shuttered. Otherwise, not much had changed. Max snorted when he walked past the store, his eyes on the cabinet that now felt like the holy grail. The sticker was still there.

“Please, please, please,” he muttered as he yanked the cabinet door open.

Nothing. Nothing but an empty shelf.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered as he stared inside. Kathleen must have taken the go-bag. Did she take it just to humor him? Was she shocked when she discovered the weapon wedged in the bag between his jeans and his sneakers?

He couldn’t think about that now. The bag was gone. He had to find a different way to get rid of his prison orange. He closed the door and looked around before making his way carefully to the boutique’s glass door. Peering inside, he saw a variety of women’s clothes, shoes, and bags stylistically arranged.

He tested the door and found it opened easily. Running his finger down the doorframe, he saw that the lock had been busted. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one looking for a new set of clothes. Someone had broken into the store before him.

The door squeaked as he opened it further. For a moment, he stood breathless in the doorway, torn with indecision. He didn’t want to steal from this place—adding to the list of his crimes—but did he really have a choice? Escaping prison would tack on years of incarceration all on its own. Taking from a second-hand shop seemed like a drop in the bucket at this point.

He eased inside and closed the door behind him. He passed by sequined skirts and a selection of high heels before finally identifying a tiny men’s section near the back of the store.

“Bingo,” he said.

As he rummaged through it, he pulled out a pair of jeans that looked to be his size. He ripped off the jumpsuit and slipped the pants on. Then he abandoned the white undershirt in favor of a black t-shirt. He also found a casual plaid button-up and slipped it on. A little more digging revealed a jacket that was slightly too big, but he didn’t mind. As he started rummaging through a selection of men’s shoes, he heard a familiar squeak.

He froze. Someone was opening the door.

He shoved a pair of tennis shoes on his feet and ducked behind the racks as he heard voices fill the room.

“We really need to get out of the city,” a man grumbled. Max heard the shelves being rifled through. He held his breath and hoped no one heard him.

“I know,” a female voice answered. “I just need a change of clothes. If we’re heading north, I’m going to need something warm.”

“I can’t believe we’re stealing,” the man hissed.

Max shifted into a more comfortable position and froze when he brushed up against the coats. They caused a quiet shushing sound to fill the room. Max cursed silently. Silence descended.

“Who’s there?” the female said, her voice sharp. “I know you’re there. Show yourself!”

Max stood up with his palms out. “Hi,” he said, trying to be sound friendly. “Weird day, isn’t it?”

The man chuckled. The woman shot him an angry look. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Same thing you are, I bet,” Max said and made the clothes rustle against each other again. “Change of clothes.”

“Our house was raided,” the female said, sounding defensive. “What are we supposed to do? The world

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