“Left, right. Left, right.” He says as he paddles down river, attempting to block out the sound of dogs barking in the woods. His breath becomes more labored by the second, he can’t keep this up forever. He looks for a place along the bank to disembark. As he exits escape becomes more real; he wonders what he’ll tell the police. He never saw their faces, just black knives with white, gilded hilts....