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((Samuel Wilson continued from Far From Home))

It was late in the afternoon when Sam's weary feet led him to the ranch. Whether he knew it or not, he was retracing his steps, in a way. Backwards.

It had been so long ago. So long ago that he and Delilah had been wandering, not sure about what this mind game entailed, thinking that no one would actually go along with such a crazy command. Kill your classmates. No reward. And then they had found the railroad tracks, found the bridge. Richard had found them, and everything had changed.

Had it really just been a day ago?

They had missed the ranch then. Sam didn't miss the ranch now.

One hand on the solid wooden face of the ranchhouse, he paused. There were a lot of places Delilah could hide here. This house, the stables, even inside the grain silo, if there was a way in there. If she was even here in the first place.

He hoped she wasn't looking out at them right now, with Renee still behind him. She could panic, run away again. And then maybe he'd never find her.

"Think she might be inside?" he asked. Rhetorical question; she was or she wasn't. He didn't wait for an answer. "No offense, but I reckon... You should probably leave for now." He gave a tired smile, if only for Renee's benefit. The sides of his mouth felt grimy, as if his face was coated with dirt and dust. "I'll come find you, once I find out if she's here or not."
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Program V3 Prologue:
Sylvia Veneski -- F32 -- Clothes Hanger -- Alive -- Someday We Won't Remember This

Auld Lang Syne
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Breaking Point · The Ranch
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