Creeping goose bumps across my shins and thighs were far more responsible than the chilly evening air for keeping me cognizant of the dropping temperature, and that I was naked, and that I could not keep up my current pace for much longer without proper provisions. Rocky territory is terribly strenuous to navigate in bare feet, and it certainly did not aid my traversal that the heavy rains from the afternoon had made the terrain surprisingly slick. Consequently, the bruises on my backside, arms, and legs from the spills I had taken seemed to reproduce as if a yellow mold were growing just beneath my skin and eating down into the meat of my body. However, I had soon grown numb to the pain of those bruises, the moisture of the rocks, and the chill of the air; and the tingling sensation of the goose bumps was the only physical sensation that my precocious nervous system would allow my brain to recognize, lest I collapse in agony.
It had been exactly six hours since I purloined a hammer and hacksaw from an unsuspecting workman and made good my escape from the laboratories. He would soon awaken from the punch in the back of the head that felled him and turned purple the back of my left hand. No matter. He would have no visual memory of the incident, only a soreness and a ghost voice in his mind, quietly saying, ?Forgive me, friend.?
It was ten past ten, but obviously I could not know it at the time. All I knew was that the darkness gave me adequate cover. Lieutenant Dallas and his men were sure to be scouring the outlying area for any sign of my presence; fortunately, I was able to slip in and out of shadows, staying on hard terrain to avoid making tracks, lying belly down in fields of tall grass when exhaustion took its toll. I was as yet unsure of my destination, but I embraced a vague sense of direction, an instinct as to the next leg of my quest.
Sounds in the background: dogs barking, gunshots. I whirled around to discover that not half a mile away there was a spectacular array of spotlights, dancing about on the ground, in the sky, and against the tall cliff that I had so treacherously descended a short time beforehand. I began to theorize the origins of the sounds: the dogs have picked up my trail, they might bark. Why the gunshots? Have they made visual contact? I was not standing in a light, there was no way I could have been seen. Perhaps the gunshots were fired in an effort to silence the poor dogs.
Imagination running away and anger building, I hastened my pace. Civilization must not be far, I thought. Still, I did not know what in particular I was looking to find. A McDonald?s? A convenience store? Certainly I would be arrested on sight when I appeared, nude as I was, under a bright neon light. My exposure to civilization was so limited ? I was unsure how to rectify my problem. Clothing stores, but I had no money, and they were closed, perhaps. Mugging a person on the street had little appeal. I could check into a hospital? certainly, with my injuries, I would not be turned away, despite my lack of coverage.
To be continued?