by
M Manwaring (pen name Michaela Croe)
The woman listened to the rhythm of her feet as they hit the ground. It was raining, and her aching calves were spattered with mud. What time was it? She couldn't remember where or when she'd last seen her watch - or the rest of her belongings, for that matter. The steady rain plastered her raven hair to her head and ran into her eyes, making the scene before her snap in and out of focus. Blinking fiercely she ran on, searching for a place to stop, to rest.
Her foot hit a deeper puddle of mud and slid out from under her. With a painful thud she hit the ground, gasping for breath. Her blood thundered in her ears as she drew coarse, rasping breaths and tried to stand. A noise came from behind her and she glanced around furtively. From the distance came the sound of dogs and shouting. With a sudden surge of energy the woman took off again and she was running once more. Her breath was coming harder now, her legs trembling with fatigue, and the pack on her back seemed impossibly heavy.
The industrial estate was huge and deserted, its few lights fighting hopelessly against the dark, making pitiful reflections on the ground. She was covered in mud now, and frozen to the bone. If she didn't find somewhere safe to hide she'd surely collapse with exhaustion. This was all his fault, she thought vaguely as the sound of her blood pumping and her feet pounding filled her head. If he hadn't left her...
The wind caught the sounds of those behind her. They were very close now. Too close.
"Where is she?" the voices cried.
"Catch her! Stop her!"
The sounds of their voices were drowned out by the barking of dogs. Desperate, the running woman cast around for a place to hide. She ran toward a portable building where beneath she found a crevice surrounded by wood panelling. Her nails began to split and bleed as she wrenched and scratched at the wood, until finally, her teeth clenched and the rain streaming down her face, one of the panels came loose and she climbed beneath the building, careful not to bump the knapsack on her back. Her hands were shaking so badly that her first attempt to replace the loose board from the inside failed and she dropped it. Swearing under her breath she picked it up again and this time succeeded in resting it precariously back in place. Now she had to wait and hope that the crowd would pass her by. But what about the dogs? She shuffled forward and peered out of a crack between two boards. The rain was pelting down even harder now, cutting the night into thin, clean strips of dark. Clean cuts!!
. That's what she should have done. Made a clean break. That's why they were chasing her. Because he'd beaten her to it. She'd merely taken from him what was rightfully hers. What had been hers all along.
The sound of many pairs of running feet was becoming louder. Terrified, the woman shrank back into the dark crevice, thankful for the chance to get away from the constant, driving rain, yet blessing the weather for its ferocity. Perhaps the rain would hide her tracks. and perhaps the dogs would lose her scent. The noise was almost upon her and she covered her ears, trying to shut it out. From the corner of her eye she spotted movement. Turning slowly she saw two sets of mud-covered paws under the edge of the panelling. Filled with panic, she backed away from it as far was she could, until the backpack touched the side of the building. Certain that the animal had found her the woman closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable shouts, the barking, the sirens. The dog let out a small, frustrated whine, and then the sounds of her pursuers began to recede. Cautiously she opened her eyes. The paws were gone - the hunting party had passed by, missing her completely.
She could hear them again in the distance, but this time some way ahead of her. She let out a shuddering sigh. After checking her backpack, she pushed the loose board aside and crawled out, relieved to be out of the confines of the tiny crevice. The rain hit her like a wall and she staggered, nearly falling again. She didn't understand why they were chasing her. What was in her backpack was her last remaining possession and it was hers by right. She would never give it up!
Some way in front of her she could see the swaying lights of the search party, blinking on and off through the rain. Despite her fear, she smiled to herself. This would teach him. He couldn't leave her and then send people out to finish the job. Hadn't he hurt her enough? Doubling back, the woman staggered back the way she had come. The wind changed direction and blew even harder, and gusts pushed at her back as if urging her onwards. She rounded the corner of a building and stopped dead. Not fifty metres from her were her pursuers, walking towards her through the rain. The wind at her back had masked their presence, but it did not do the same thing for her own. In a second one of the hunters spotted her and they began to run. The adrenalin from the shock of almost running full-tilt into her enemies coursed through her veins, and the running woman was off again.
The industrial estate was bordered on one side by a train line, and this was where the woman turned now. She set off at a ninety degree angle to her pursuers, running as fast as she could. The ground was becoming more slick and the mud deeper with every drop of rain. Her chest hurt and every step was torture, her legs cramping and stitches in her side threatened to bring her to a halt just for a short rest - just a few minutes?
The sound of men and dogs was overwhelming now, and this time it was joined by the terrifying cracks of rifles. She did her best to dodge and weave, but as she ran she thought she could already feel the harsh breath of her hunters on her neck. She was sure they were about to catch her when the wind brought a new sound to her ears. She found new speed and headed for the train line. A train was coming! Ignoring her body's protests, she ran on until finally the poorly lit buildings receded and she found herself in a grassy area. Beyond this she saw the trainline, its tracks shining like salvation in the rain. She could see the locomotive, a goods train, racing towards them - but could she get to it before her hunters got to her? She glanced around and saw the group of shouting men were gaining on her fast. The sound of their shouts were getting close, so close that she felt she could almost turn and touch them.
The train let out one eerie, shrill blast from its whistle, and it was beside her. She ran on, her head filled with the roaring of its massive engines. Empty cars, their open doors like giant, begging mouths, flashed past. She reached the lines with only three carriages to spare, just as she felt a large hand grasp her should. Without turning, she closed her eyes and jumped. Her forward momentum threw her into a long dive, and by sheer luck she aimed into the middle of an open door.
The woman lay in the bottom of the cargo car, winded, her leg broken by the fall. But she was free! Free at last to enjoy her one and only possession. She eventually regained her breath and sat up. The landscape rushed past, her pursuers left far behind. Gingerly she took off her backpack and opened it, taking out her prize with one hand and gently removing the towel in which it was wrapped. She hadn't stolen it. It had always been hers, ever since she'd met him. They couldn't take it from her now. She took a deep breath and looked out at the rain-soaked night beyond the storage car door. The running was over. He wouldn't leave her again. The woman, no longer running, leaned back against the back of the car and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. She gazed down at her lover's still warm heart in her hand and smiled. She was no thief. It had been hers all along.