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Running

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I don’t like running. It just gets you tired faster than walking.

But right now, I have to run. I have to get away. They can’t catch me. I will outrun them or lose them.

They are not giving up. Some follow in cars, but there are others running along in pursuit.

They want to catch me. Stop me.

But I don’t. I want to be free. They will never catch me. I will beat them and I will be free.

The bag of money in my arms is slowing me down. I can’t drop it though. I need it to pay the debts. I NEED it.

But they don’t agree. They think I should work for it. They don’t understand how much of my life will be taken away if I don’t pay off the debts. They just don’t understand.

My gun is digging into my leg. It is in my pocket. It is the gun I used to hold up the bank. The gun I used to get my money. I can’t adjust it, I would have to stop or drop the money. And that is not happening.

I’m running down an alleyway. They can be heard running after me. But the cars can’t follow. They speed away, sirens screaming, looking for a way to get to the next street.

I continue to run. I kick over trashcans that stand in my way. They fall and block the way behind me. It will slow them. I can already hear them swearing in anger.

Suddenly, I’m on a street. Nobody is around. No crowd to blend into. I continue to run. But, I am getting tired. I’m gasping for breath.

But I can’t stop. That would be giving up. I refuse to do that.

Now the cars have found me yet again. To the right.

I turn left and run, the cash still slowing me.

Cars pull out in front of me. Ones with flashing lights. No, no.

They stop and cops jump out and start pointing guns at me. I turn around only to find the same. I move to the side, back to a wooden fence.

I then quickly adjust the cash in my arms, and pull my gun fom my pocket. I point it right back at them.

One of them has a megaphone and is shouting at me to put down the gun and go quietly with them.

Never.

As I raise up my gun to shout the megaphone man, a shot sounds.

Not from me.

What instead happens is ripping pain goes through my body. I feel myself falling, grasping the wound to my chest, dropping the money.

Blackness creeps into my eyes. The police are shouting. I am reaching for the money. I don't want them to have it. It is mine!

I can’t reach it. It is just out of my reach by a few inches. It is so close. Yet, not close enough.

Then everything went black.





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