He went to the hall closet and pulled out the . It wasn't flashy or "tactical"; it was a worn, matte-grey hiking bag that blended into the shadows. He checked the weight—35 pounds. Balanced.
A thick stack of cash, a thumb drive with encrypted scans of his deed and ID, and a paper map of the county.
Dense, vacuum-sealed ration bars and a jar of peanut butter—ugly food for an ugly night.
