Ataxia

Prologue

The middle school teacher dashed through the woods, tears blurring and clouding his vision as his house slippers were being torn apart by every crooked stick and sharp rock. He had just rolled out of bed and had no time to change into actual clothes and was still wearing his pajamas.

Mr. Ferrell was running for his life, for he knew the moment he heard the creaking in his floorboards and the barking of his german shepherd that someone was there to murder him. He had no idea why, but had the vague idea it had to do with his career.

The young teacher heard thumping footsteps behind him, like crashing thunder. Pure, cold fear spread through his veins and he pushed himself to run faster, despite trotting as fast as he could already. His muscles were screaming out in pain and his lungs were aching, quickly refilling and releasing air. He knew he was cornered. But he had to go on.

The ear-splitting sound of a gunshot and a quick, sharp pain in his higher back told him he was shot. He cried out in agony and pain, his entire body trembling and insisting that he could not go on. Suddenly, he collapsed to the forest floor, feeling his world fade.

His murderer stood beside his crumpled body, and turned over the teacher's body with his heavy work boot.

"Where is she?" The murderer asked harshly, stepping down on Mr. Ferrell's chest forcefully.

"I --" he coughed -- "don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." The teacher sputtered in a bare whisper. His breathing was becoming shallow, he must have been shot somewhere near one of his lungs and it was punctured.

"You know!" The murderer leaned in closer, gritting his teeth. "Tell me where Zoe Greene is!"

"I already said," he coughed again, "I don't know who yer talkin' 'bout."

The murderer grimaced and lifted his boot, yelling his frustration. "Agh! You're supposed to know! Tell me what you know or you will die, right here, right now," He pulled out the gun again, aiming near the teacher's heart. "Make one wrong move and I pull the trigger. Now tell me. Where is Zoe Greene?"

"I still don't know," he said, hyperventilating. Mr. Ferrell felt his world beginning to slip away as if he was going to sleep.

"Tell me now!"

"Go ... jump off a cliff, you ...," the teacher took his last breath, and perished where he lay.

The murderer stood there, his hands vibrating with anticipation, and he gulped. His target had died. And now so would he.