Being Chased

Thump Thump, Thump Thump

My heart beat wildly in my chest. Landing after each leap into the air jars my slender frame. Branches whip my face and torso as I tear through the underbrush. My lungs burn and my chest cavity heaves for blessed oxygen. I desperately attempt to put space between myself and my pursuer. I pump my fist, knees raised – my stride wide and purposeful as I try to reign in my breathing. Bounding over bushes and sprinting through the leave-strewn forest floor it occurs to me... I can't stop. I don't plan to become a slave again.

The date was August 20th and I had been planning my escape for months. I charted, researched, and drew up a plan. The box with the number "20" in it on the August page of the calendar was highlighted in yellow and circled five times with a red marker. I had no choice, I had to flee.

There are times, even now when I'm on the run, that I could feel the over-whelming urge to conform. To just relax and let things be as they were obviously meant to be... "slave" and "master". Times when even though the master wasn't nearby, I knew what was expected of me, and I consented. I hated myself for those times of weakness. I should have fought, I should have resisted, I should never have put myself in this position.

I - could - just - SLAP myself! Though I'm a leader, I followed others to this beast. Even though I knew that this master was one that killed hundreds of thousands of people, I was still curious; curious to find out if its power could be thwarted by me. There are times where being fool-hardy and inquisitive aren't a great combination. I was trapped; branded as yet another slave. The brands were everywhere; in my hair, on my skin, even internally. Yes, this master was that cruel.

But, the 20th of August has come. I am running for my life on mere oxygen and bands of tissues wrapped around ligaments and bone. I am only human, yet, I must escape. I must find my way out of this torturous hell that I; either through bravery or naiveté, walked into. Just ahead of me, I find shelter. I haven't heard the master's chase for a few miles, so I think it will be safe to hide inside.

The small one story structure sat in the middle of the dense forest. Rotting floorboards creaked under my weight as I walked up the rickety steps to the door. I turn the knob and slowly push the door open. The stench of decaying wood and mildewed textile was nearly unbearable. The putrid blended with the scent of nature to create an eerie combination. There was something else, too. It was very familiar, but I can't place the scent. I close the door and reach into my parka for a snack.

For the months I'd been planning. I had stock-piled energy bars and chewing gum. I thought they would be light enough to not slow me down, yet nutritious enough to keep me moving. I knew this would be difficult, but this was quickly becoming ridiculous. The master was relentless. I'd been running all day and still, I only managed to maintain a very small lead. I sighed at the thought as I looked around at everything in the shack.

The dirt addled windows barely let in the light that shone from outside. The place was virtually empty; except for a worn armchair sitting in the corner with its innards exposed. It looked as if animals had torn away at it in search for food. The mud-caked floor and broken mantel was testimony to the fact that nobody had lived here for quite some time.

I walked around the shack until I found a door. I pushed it open slowly, being careful not to push it completely off of its already hanging hinges. I crossed the few small steps to the cot on the far side of the room. Darkness had engulfed the space inside the shack quickly. Before I had completely settled in my makeshift sleeping area, I'd fallen fast asleep.

In my dreams I was hunted by an unknown assailant. The shadows haunted the forest floor; dark images as tall as the trees. They lurked, seeking me out, until finally I was incinerated alive. I awakened with a start, my eyes stretched wide, attempting to make out the shapes in the darkness. Then I remembered; I was on the run. I checked the pockets of my parka for my safety tools and equipment. It was all there; my flashlight, lighter, switchblade, container of butane, first aid kit, and rations.