The Runner

~Brandon James Scott Scholl

As Margaret ran through the forest the branches slapped against her in an attempt to hold her for her pursuers. There was little light from the quarter moon that was high in the sky gently lighting her path to safety. Not this time, she thought. I won't go back. They won't stop me. She could hear the footfalls of her chaser and their heavy breathing. She had to lose them. Her life was finally in her hands. She, for once in her life, was making her own decisions. Her arms were scratched and bleeding from the attack of the trees as she ran. Her legs were just as battered because of the medical shorts she was wearing. She ducked down into a couple mashed together trees to hide. She slowed her breathing and calmed herself down as best she could. The footsteps that were following her were getting louder. She could hear the voice from the attacker in her head.

Come out, come out wherever you are.

She continued to listen to what was in his head. She could only hear his immediate thoughts but that’s all she needed. She hadn’t sharpened her skills enough to get completely into the minds of people around her. She remembered how they had taken her from her home when she was a child. She was considered a glitch in the system. Something that was unnatural and was to be experimented on. They had taken so many years out of her life. From the time she was 5 she had been their prisoner of tests and torture. Not this time, not anymore.

As the man that was following her moved closer she could tell he was severely out of breath.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he muttered in a husky voice.

The voice made her jump inside. It was the voice that was only heard when they would grab her and force surgical tools inside of her and hurt her. He was the brute force for the brains. She could hear him thinking again.

I’ll just crouch behind this tree and watch her run out. She won’t know where I am and she’ll think it’s safe.

She knew exactly where he was too. As she came out of her hiding place she grabbed a giant branch that was laying on the ground next to her. She came up behind the crouched, bearded man. He smelled of alcohol and sweat. She raised the branch up over her head and watched him for a moment, peering into his mind.

“Where is that little wench,” he thought.

Just then she swung the giant branch down on top of his head as hard as she could. Then she felt the connection to his head go silent and he collapsed onto the ground in a heap.

“I’m right here,” she mumbled to herself. She collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. As she looked around she could hear the distant barking of dogs and men shouting orders at other men. She got up off the ground and ran in the opposite direction.

As she was running she saw a clearing up ahead. As she broke through the branches into the open area she saw a road. A car was coming her way. She put her thumb out to flag the car down. It was an old, blue, Ford Taurus. A car that was made between 1986-1991. Primarily made in Georgia and Illinois. How did she know that? She had never grown up around cars. In fact, she didn’t have much of a life at all outside of the testing and torture that was inflicted on her.

As the car came closer it pulled off to where she was on the side of the road. A woman in her mid 40’s got out immediately and came around.

“Oh my gosh! Are you alright honey,” the woman asked. She was out of breath. All she could do was mutter two words.

“Help me.”

“Here, come get in my car. I’ll take you to my house right now. What’s your name?” The woman waited for a reply while helping her new companion into the car. The answer to her question never came though. All the response she had gotten was the only two words that were in Margaret’s verbal vocabulary.

“Help me.”

As Margaret laid down in the back seat she could hear the thoughts going through her savior’s mind. She was genuinely worried about Margaret’s condition. She was worried about whether she had been beaten, running from an accident, or even worse, raped.

As the car lurched forward and the engine came to life while they drove, all Margaret could think about was that she was free. No more pain, no more humility, no more being seen as a science experiment. She was safe. That was the last thing that she thought before darkness overtook her consciousness and she fell asleep.