Ice coated blades of grass crunched beneath his bare feet as he ran. He kept the moon on his left, praying that if he kept going in the same direction he’d eventually run into a road or trail that would take him to safety. Isaac stumbled to a halt, catching himself on a tree. Thankfully, it wasn’t far below freezing, though the air was cold enough to stab at his lungs. Barefoot and wearing nothing but tattered jeans, he needed to find shelter.
Unfortunately, that was the least of his problems. Isaac surveyed the darkness behind him. The moonlight reflected off the icy ground. He wasn’t sure if it were April, or still March. He looked down, and let out a few curses. The frozen ground had opened cuts on his feet, and he was leaving a trail of bloody footprints.
A twig snapped. Isaac shook his head as he grimaced and started moving again. The twig had snapped for no reason other than his pursuer wanted Isaac to know he was there.
There, ahead, lights. A thorn cut a shallow gash in his arm as Isaac pushed his way through the brush. His feet nearly slid out from under him as he stumbled onto the icy concrete of the parking lot. The lights were headlights. A security vehicle.
“What the…?” An older man in a guard uniform was coming toward him. The guard started drawing a sidearm. “Are you alright?”
“Please…” Isaac kept moving. He’d made it three steps out of the woods when a hand came down on his shoulder and halted his progress. He tried to twist away, and was yanked back. Another hand wrapped around his head and clamped down over his mouth. The hand on his shoulder shifted to grab his wrist and twist his arm up behind him.
The guard blinked in confusion. “Sir?” The sidearm was still half draw.
“Just a trespasser.” His captor’s voice was calm. Isaac began struggling in the man’s grip.
“A tress –” The guard started shaking his head.
“A trespasser.” The man’s voice was firm. “Just a trespasser getting what trespassers deserves. Don’t worry about it.”
Isaac’s eyes widened in terror as the guard gave a blank nod before sliding the sidearm back into its holster. “Don’t worry about it. Just a trespasser getting what trespassers deserve.”
He thrashed in the man’s iron grip and tried shouting protests through the hand clamped over his mouth as he was dragged back into the woods.