Page 3 of Judge’s Obsession

It’s dark, but I’m a few yards away from a fence that lines the perimeter of the compound. On the other side are a bunch of vehicles, just sitting there. Free for the taking.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I scramble to my feet. I practically bounce against the wrought iron fence, but I don’t let it stop me as I climb because my life quite literally depends on it.

I can smell my freedom.

Barbed wire slices into my skin, but it’s nothing.

At least that’s what I tell myself as the tears return.

I’ll be free. That’s all that matters.

With the gunfire as a distraction, I manage to make it over the fence unnoticed. But then the shots die down, and once again, I’m not sure I’m going to make it.

I race for the closest truck. It’s a beat-up, rusted Dodge Ram, and miraculously, it’s unlocked. It’s one of the earlier models and easier to hotwire than most—another blessing. In minutes, the engine roars to life.

My hand grapples for the door, and I yank it shut, then I floor it.

For the first several miles, I’m completely paranoid. I look in the rearview mirror every few minutes. But when no headlights greet me, I start to relax.

East. I just have to keep driving east until I hit Salvation. Then I’ll plan my next steps. Maybe I’ll be able to find an old motel where the owner will let me borrow a bathroom. I’m certain I look like death warmed over. No amount of curiosity will allow me to look at myself in the mirror. Not yet.

Tears of relief pool in my eyes, and I blink them away.

I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s not until I see the city limits sign that I finally allow myself to breathe a little easier.

That was a mistake.

The check engine light flashes on the dash. Smoke starts to stream from under the hood. But it’s the telltale sound of roaring engines that tells me it’s over.

I would recognize that sound anywhere.

They’ve found me.

Frantic, I look in the rearview mirror as I swerve to the side of the road. I’m surrounded by fields. Not a business or house in sight. My only chance to survive now is to get lost in the wheat or corn.

I scramble from the Dodge and race toward cover. The road that stretches behind me is a long one with no curves. I’m certain they’ve spotted me, but it will take them a few minutes to reach me even with how fast they’re driving.

Tossing one more glance in their direction, I dive into the fields and run.

My lungs are burning. My muscles scream after too long of disuse. My heart hammers like a hummingbird’s wings. But I can’t allow myself to slow down.

I won’t because that means giving up.

Light to my left catches my attention, and a few seconds later, I can see the distinct silhouette of a building.

I can hide there.

Whoever lives out here in the middle of nowhere would have to have protection. They could call the cops.

With a new surge of hope pushing me, I dart for the structure.

I hear angry male voices behind me. Plants thrashing as they charge closer and closer.

My feet catch on the wooden steps of the porch, and I’m going down, down, down. Pain lances through every muscle and joint of my body.

This is it. If these people can’t help me, then I’m all but dead.

Shuffling forward, I claw my way up to the door and smack my hands against the wood.