Thomas ran as fast as his weary legs could carry his slightly overweight body. He was a strong man actually. Much stronger than he appeared and right now he even surprised himself. He overcame obstacle after obstacle like an olympic athlete. He turned down a small path and continued at this breakneck pace. His foot caught a thick root that stretched across the path and he went soaring forward very much resembling Superman in flight. He hit the ground and roll- ed smoothly onto his feet and continued forward. Everything seemed to be looking up. He might just make it after all. His lungs were burning but he managed to block out the pain. After all, he was running on pure adrenaline. He came to a very high fence, at least twelve feet in height, and decided to change direction and run along side of it. He thought about attemting to scale it but that would leave him in the open too long. It would also take away the distance he had managed to put between him and his advesaries. He ran along the fence until he came to the spring. He paused for a brief moment and then decided to wade into the water. He began moving slowly downstream until he began noticing several groups of red eyes under the water near each bank. He slowed down a little but continued forward. He didn't have time to even consider the thought of becom- ing Gator food. He made it to the other side and emerged from the cool water. He headed directly into the thick woods, slower than he wished, but there was no path. Eventually he came to a rather large path and began running again. He felt the pain rip through the back of his thigh before he heard the gunshot, or so it seemed. He tried with all his might to continue forward, but his leg was useless. He made it another step or two before the next bullet went through his lower back and out through his abdomen. Another hit his shoulder and another grazed the side of his head. He stumbled forward and fell to the ground in a bloody clump. He began to crawl back into the woods even though he knew it was useless. Two more bullets went into his back. He came to a stop and started to sense darkness envelop him.
"I pray that you get that letter in time Melissa" he whispered to himself. "Please God, let her get it in time."
Then the darkness won and he was gone.
Sarah Bell walked out of the camp as though nothing were on her mind, it was a daily routine for her and the six others in her gang, the guard led them to the river, where each would pan for the next ten hours the gold which nature had lain low in the gravel. All were women, save the guard, who had already killed two that month. For him it was a simple thing, a woman would bolt, and he would spend her life with the .270's reach, some were downed at ten yards, some at a hundred...though each bullet meant the same results.
Today however, was Sarah Bell's day. She had been studying, planning the details meticulously, and had voiced her intentions to no one. She knew Thomas would want it no other way, what he had for Melissa was way too risky for her to be leaking, and the entire plan depended now on her two young shoulders. She would die in the attempt, perhaps, and Melissa would never know the difference, or she would triumph, and the entire game would be tilted in their favor. The letter meant freedom for some 200 people.
The seven women, ranging in age from 14 to 44, Sarah herself in between at 20, were led half a mile from the camp with high fences, and there, per routine, they were obliged to wade into the freezing waters of Sounder River, each with a pan and a jar, and each with a quota for the day to be turned in for food and shelter for that night. Seven hours into the shift, the guard sat against his tree, the women scattered along a hundred yard length of the creek, Sarah herself had meandered furthest downstream, but she had done so each day for a week and it was nothing out of the ordinary.
With a glance upriver, she stepped onto the bank, and slipped into the bushes. The letter was tucked into her shirt, and she ran quietly, not even hearing anything of alarm from behind. Was it to be this easy? When would the guard realize? He would of course, of that there could be no doubt, and her survival meant collapse for the camp-masters, who were lining their pockets with the blood of their prisoners. Through trees she crept, there were yet five hours of daylight...how far could she go? When would the bullet tear through her back, exploding through her chest? It appeared there were none on her trail...but how long would this freedom last? And most importantly, how would she manage the trek through the unmapped wilderness to Sarah's house? She now had a ten minute lead on the guard.