Ben Mandeville

Between space

All he could see, all he could think and do was run. He wasn't sure how many were chasing him or where they were chasing him from, in fact there wasn't much he did know. That's what the man didn't understand, why did they want him and what would they do if he ever fell into their twisted hands? He forced himself to slam the oncoming scenes of his over active imagination to the background of his mind, allowing them to sizzle out like the lives of so many before him. Without hesitation he slid under a mound of dirt as he heard two of them approaching from the same direction he was running, he knew he had to move quickly and this seemed too perfect. He lay in wait for them to pass so he could retreat back to one of the shacks and just cry until he woke only to play the same sick game tomorrow. He had always hidden here, which confused him because they had never found him, he looked again at the underneath of the mound, silently thanking his inanimate guardian. He pressed his face against the familiar and almost friendly mixture of mud and gravel, the only seemingly constant thing in the compound. Gripping the little black notebook in his jacket, the man prayed that it made it back to people who need if, while it could still help. The thought brought his mind back to the chase, he heard dragging and hissing, then he thought he saw torch light. This was new and confused him intensely, light was not permitted in the hunt. It was the only merciful rule, and the only advantage the man had on his followers. Being almost blind they had no reason for light anyway but his oppressors thought that it made the runners feel more confident, more risky. Suddenly he felt a burning behind his sternum, a cough rising to his throat. He clamped his mouth and nose shut in disbelief, his brain attempting to starve his body for betraying him to his followers. He started to feel light, in his brain's attempt to save him it was torturing itself. A noble proposition in such a desperate situation. No Oxygen meant he would not survive much longer in the hunt, he had to breath, even at risk of coughing, he needed the air.