“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.

As he creeps through the woods, he hears cars on a road and it seems his pursuers have given up the chase. He flags down a car, a group of 3 stops and offers a ride. He asks to be taken to the nearest police station, but as they drive down the road they blow past the station without saying a word. “Hey, what gives!?” He asks frustrated, no reply. He begins to panic as they come to a stop in an alley, frantically pulling on the child safety locked door handle. They all get out and that’s when he notices their knives. Questions begin flying through his mind as they approach his door. “How many cars? How many people? Why me? *the door opens* What did I—“.