If a slave showed up in town when they were running away, they often wouldn't be lucky enough to even see a station, because watchmen and women patrolled the streets using the fugitive slave acts to raid houses, school houses, and churches in hopes of flushing out a hidden slave. one of the most famous slave catchers of all time, Captain Fairfax Moresby, who captured a notorious slave ship, the Succès.
NO! why would I ever think that. I haven't come this far just to shut it down. I have to try. They started to pick up speed and I turned right and bolted. My legs were a blur under me, the world a blur next to me. I could feel the adrenaline being pumped into my veins, and I horse hooves pounding the earth under me, slowly creeping towards me. I blocked out everything and just focused on moving my legs faster. Step by step I went faster, I grew closer to the treeline. five hundred feet. My arms pumped hard enough to bring water out of a well. Four hundred feet. My legs were moving fast enough to shred a fly passing through them. Three hundred feet. My breath filled the air, each huff I did twenty steps. Two hundred feet. My heart thundered in my ears, it was slamming against my chest, each pump leaving me with a sting in my chest. One hundred feet. I listened and heard the slave hunters yelling after me and to each other, their voices becoming visable as the approached me. Eighty feet. I could make out a small click behind me, but I didn't dare look back. Fifty feet. The crack of a whip reached my ears, making the ring as if a bell was in them. Ten feet. I could make it I was almost there. One foot. Fire flooded my veins, lightning flashed inside my body. The pain was unbearable but I kept going. The sound of charging horse stopped, knowing it wouldn't be able to clear the tightly woven trees. I started limping forward and felt a trickle down my leg. It was warm, it was blood.
Sticking right into my leg was a crossbow arrow. The head was slightly poking out but it was near more of the side avoiding anything vital. So, for now, it stung a lot and would be pretty painful to walk on. The wound was deep and it would seem that the only way to get it treated would be to find a town or safehouse and hope to god for medical support. However, there was still the danger of being found by a watchman. It was the middle of the day and if I didn't find one by nightfall it would be infected, but if I did find a town or safehouse I could be found and caught or killed anyway.
A. Go to the town, there is still a chance at treating the wound. (turn to chapter 13)
B. Don't go, I could still live through the wound by improvising, the risk of the watchmen is too great. (turn to chapter 12)
YOU ARE READING
Runaway (choose your own adventure
Historical FictionSo this was a history project that I did, it's very different from what I do but people liked it so I thought that I could just share it because why not, it is a choose your own adventure so follow the choices.
