The Edge of the Woods
Thomas ran like hell.
Ten blocks. Maybe more. He'd lost count. Fences climbed, alleys cut through, rooftops vaulted. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but he didn't stop. Not after what he'd just survived.
He ducked into a dark alley, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. The silence was eerie, too clean, too still.
"What did I get myself into?" he muttered, half amused. He'd cheated death. Again. But he knew the game wasn't over.
I need to get out of town. Hit the woods. Disappear.
Then sirens.
Distant at first. Then closer. A public override alert blared from every screen, speaker, and device in the city.
"Fugitive Thomas Stone has escaped. Armed and dangerous. Wanted dead or alive. Protect yourself at all costs. He will murder on sight."
Thomas clenched his jaw. They'll never give me justice. Only judgment.
He moved quickly, weaving through backstreets, ducking under surveillance drones, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might recognize him. The city was quite eerily so. No pedestrians. No traffic. Just silence and the hum of fear.
Play it normal, he told himself. Find transportation. Get to the woods. That's the plan. It'll work.
He stepped out of the alley, trying to blend in.
Five steps.
Then
"Suspect spotted!"
A blaring alarm shattered the silence. Red lights flashed. Sirens screamed.
Thomas bolted.
He ran like he'd never run before. Past shuttered storefronts, down empty boulevards, through the heart of a city that now wanted him dead. Alarms echoed from every corner. The hunt was on.
Then he saw it.
The woods.
Green. Untouched. Beautiful.
Freedom.
Can't stop now.
He sprinted toward the trees, heart pounding, hope rising.
Then click.
A gun cocked behind him.
"Freeze! Hands up!"
Thomas stopped cold.
A cop. Weapon drawn. Voice firm.
"Turn around. Keep your hands up!"
Thomas obeyed, slowly turning, hands raised.
The officer spoke into his radio.
"I have the fugitive Thomas Stone detained. I repeat, I have him located at—"
Bang.
A gunshot rang out.
But it wasn't the cop's.
Thomas flinched, eyes darting to the source.
A man stood nearby, gun smoking, eyes calm.
Thomas stared. Recognition flickered.
"You…" he said. "From the Minotaur."
The man smiled. "Yeah, the name's Luke."