Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Gunfire sounds from close by. I strain my neck to look over my shoulder, but from the ditch I can’t see the road. Only the flames licking the sky are visible.
Laying two fingers over the pulse in the driver’s neck, I pray that he’s alive.
Nothing.
Shit.
I unbuckle my safety belt and reach with a shaky hand between the front seats for his holster. It’s on his right side, against his door, too far to reach. More gunfire pops, closer now.
Don’t get caught.
There’s no time to get the weapon. I pull the door handle on my side and push. The door opens a crack before getting stuck. In the yellow light falling from the lampposts, I notice the mud and polls of grass under the door. I pull off my shoes and kick with both feet, ramming my heels against the door until the gap is wipe enough for me to squeeze through.
The thick coat gets in the way. It’s stripped from my arms as I force myself through the narrow space. Metal scrapes my side. Something sharp hooks into my dress, tearing fabric and skin. The pain burns hot, but I don’t think about it.
Don’t get caught.
Finally free, I stumble and fall on my knees in the dirt. I catch myself on my palms, but I don’t slow down to straighten. I make it through the ditch on my hands and knees before I climb up the other side. Pebbles and thorns cut the soles of my bare feet as I sprint across the grassy shoulder of a quiet road. Not daring to look back, I take stock of the surroundings in front of me while my heart beats like a beast in my chest.
Don’t get caught.
There’s a strip mall up ahead. The shops are closed and dark, but it’s the nearest cluster building in sight. Pumping my arms, I run with all my might. My only hope of hiding sits a few hundred meters away. The gunfire has stopped. The night is eerily quiet. I push myself harder. Another hundred meters, and I slip into a narrow alley between two buildings. I dash around an industrial garbage bin and turn the corner into another alley.
Stopping for a moment, I press my back against the wall to catch my breath. Greedily, I drag oxygen into my lungs. The smog from winter fires is thick in the air. The smoke and soot burn my nostrils. My chest heaves as I battle to fill my lungs. I have a stitch in my side from running. I lay a hand over my waist where it’s aching. It’s wet. I pull away. My fingers are coated with wetness that looks black in the streetlight.
White puffs form in front of my mouth. The July nights in Johannesburg drop below zero, but I don’t feel the cold. I only feel fear. Then I hear it. A footstep crunches on the gravel. Sucking in a breath, I hold it, too afraid to exhale for fear of making a sound. If I stay here, I’ll be discovered. The only option is to keep on moving.
Don’t get caught.
Peeling myself off the wall, I tiptoe on shaky legs to the end of the alley and peer around the corner. The black framework of a factory looms behind the strip mall. A barbwire fence surrounds the property. Double gates are locked together with a chain, but there’s a gap between the gates. I glance back at the top of the alley, and then my heart slams to a standstill. From behind the wall, a shadow falls on the ground. It’s tall and distorted like a monster from my childhood nightmares. It’s the shadow of a man, and he’s advancing swiftly.
I don’t think.
I run.
I run until I’m close to collapsing, forcing my body through the narrow space between the gates before dashing across the illuminated yard. The chain on the gate rattles. Footsteps fall with powerful thuds behind me, closing the distance too fast. I fling myself around the corner of a corrugated iron warehouse and head blindly down a passageway between two smaller buildings. A naked bulb burns above a metal door, casting a circle of dust-ridden light over the ground. In the grainy picture of that light, a wall rises three meters into the air in front of me. Metal spikes sit like ragged teeth on top. The exit is blocked.
Shit.
Knowing it’s futile, I grab the door handle and yank. The door doesn’t budge. I’m about to back out of the dead end when the figure of a man appears at the top of the passageway. He’s tall and broad, so broad that he blocks out the light behind him. Effectively, he cuts off my only way out.
I’m frozen in shock. My body refuses to cooperate as he advances slowly with his arms standing wide from his body. The outline of a gun in his hand is clearly drawn in the shadow that moves along the wall as he nears.