Detective Hajiri; Volume One

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Somewhere between fifteen minutes to a lifetime later, the car stopped again. Hajiri could hear heavy steps across gravel. It was now or never.

The car hatch opened and Hajiri rolled out onto the ground as forcefully as possible, barreling under the legs of the driver. The man buckled over onto the road as Hajiri attempted to find his footing. By the time he'd grabbed for his gun, the prisoner had dashed into the woods.

He fired three shots after the boy, who'd already ducked behind a tree. He looked over his shoulder, having ripped the tape from his mouth at last, and looked at the driver who was fumbling to reload his gun.

It wasn't him he was worried about.

Hajiri sprinted deeper into the woods, unable to notice the man emerging from a wretched cabin behind him.

He ran until he could see the first streaks of dawn peeking through the dense trees, the stabbing pain in his gut halting his escape. He slowed to a walk to catch his breath, glancing over his shoulder.

He stopped only to free his hands from yet another duct tape restraint. Not that he could've used his hands in the compact car trunk anyways. Running it along a tree branch in an attempt to sever the tape, he felt a sick wave of deja vú. He wondered how Julian must've felt, how long he spent with shoulders pulled back, wrists crossed. He finally wore the tape down enough to bite through with his teeth.

While the cover of the woods granted him safety, he knew it was just as dangerous to lose the road entirely and get lost. Hunger ate at the pit of his stomach, like an animal clawing at its cage.

He was on the lookout for crook and cop alike, having given Julian permission to lie to cover their tracks. According to their story, Hajiri had held Julian as a hostage those few weeks. And so, the abductee became the abductor.

Trudging along, the building exhaustion filling him like concrete, he attempted to find the road back into town.

But the road found him instead.

Blinding headlights peered through the trees. He ducked into a ditch to avoid its gaze. But the predator had already set his sights on his prey; screeching to a halt, the two men jumped out.

When Hajiri heard their feet hit the ground, it seemed like the worst had come true. Before he could really process what had happened, he was running again. His fear was the only thing that had yet to be exhausted. There was nothing in this world besides Hajiri and the shine of the ax that followed him.

They still seemed determined to keep him alive for now; Hajiri could see the gun bouncing in the Butcher's pocket as he ran.

He was an older guy, with a square jaw and a chronic frown. He seemed disinterested compared to the stronger, younger man in black who ran beside him.

Or rather, harrowingly stoic. Hajiri knew better than to underestimate him.

Looking back at his pursuers, the boy tripped over a root, hitting the ground with a thud. Reorienting himself, he rolled over to find the killer standing over him, ax raised to strike.

The shine of his blade painted a streak in the air as it came down on Hajiri. He rolled over quickly, feeling the wind at his back as the weapon caught the edge of his shirt. He tried to make his escape as the ax was lodged in the soil, but found he was pinned with it. The other criminal was approaching fast.

Tucking his legs into his chest, he kicked back powerfully at the man, who let out a terrible grunt of pain, but barely budged. He resembled a boar in his rage, angered by the blow. Hajiri could imagine the glint of gold teeth being mighty tusks about to tear into him.

He rolled back onto the blade, somewhat recklessly. The ax fell flat under him, dislodging it out of the dirt and freeing him to stand. The Butcher let the handle fall, but wasted no time in raising his fists to bludgeon him instead.

Hajiri just barely dodged it.

Finally jumping back to his feet, he dodged a third blow from his attacker, bending backwards before striking at his extended arm. Then suddenly, the man in black kicked upwards towards his head. Hajiri stumbled back from the recoil.

Shirt torn and face bleeding, he attempted again to retreat into the woods. His speed was his only advantage. The Butcher grabbed his arm, trying to throw him back to the ground, but he stood his ground, pushing the killer away forcefully.

Finally, the driver pulled his gun on the teen, as though that was a threat to him now. Hajiri continued to tussle with the older man, careful to maneuver so that his opponent couldn't get a clear shot.

The Butcher wrapped his arms around Hajiri, who bit down with enough strength to draw blood, able to kick away at last.

He could hear the Butcher roar behind him, "Start the car!"

Hajiri didn't look back this time. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Despair chasing him with its big, blaring headlights, faint against the orange of the horizon. Because he saw a little something in the distance, about as clear as a mirage in a desert, but he was running for it all the same.