The stone wall was in need of repair, for the wind had beat against it and the north wall was deteriorating. A bitter cold wind whipped through the broken window of the old building and hovered in the cracks and corners of the ancient rooms and hallways. Four men stood around an old table in the deserted building. Then, like a bolt of lightning, one of the men darted out of the chamber.

James’ cover was blown. A gunshot crackled through the hall. The undercover government spy operation had failed leaving him with no other option than to run for his life. He knew the enemy would get information out of him at any cost. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand against them, so all he could do was run. If they caught him alive, he didn’t know how bad the torture would be. James wondered if he would give up his colleagues, or keep quiet and suffer until he was dead. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to risk their lives.
He had eight flights of stairs to descend before he was at ground level. The stone building was too old to have outdoor staircases for fire escapes, so he was trapped running down a spiral stairwell. As he ran, he could feel the thump of his feet vibrate through his body every time he hit a step. All he wanted to do was be quiet, but he knew every one of his steps was echoing through the staircase giving away his every move. He heard a metal door swing open and bang shut above him. He heard multiple sets of footsteps and voices and knew he was being pursued.
His lungs gasped for oxygen, but were filled with musky, damp air. As light trickled through cracks in the walls, he could see dust particles swirl and jolt. He situated himself as needed, to watch as the enemy, one man at a time, became the perfect target for his 9mm handgun. With only one man left chasing him now, he finally reached the bottom floor, and throwing himself at the door, forced his way into the frigid outdoors.
He ran on complete adrenaline. He was trained and fit, and had to remind himself to stay calm and collected. His nose and cheeks began to redden in the chilly air and, as he gasped in icy air, his eyes watered. He was scanning the area for a place to bunker down so he could get behind his follower. His body was cold; his lungs seized as he forced cold air quickly down into them. His chest was tightening, almost refusing to move on. He was loosing his fine motor skills, partially to his adrenalin, and partially to the cold air rushing over his numbing hands.
He looked behind him and couldn’t see his opponent chasing him, so he darted into the thickening woods and waited. While catching his breath and keenly listening for his pursuer, he reloaded his 9mm. James heard footstep grow louder and louder, then fade into the distance.
The man ran past James, and now the tables had turned. Refreshed, ready, and resilient to almost all circumstances, James chased after the man.
Although not professionally trained, the enemy was fit and strong. He had only been involved in the illegal selling of weapons on the black-market for a little under a year. He wasn’t there by choice. His dad had died, and he dreaded the threats that his mom and little brother were going to be killed if he didn’t finfish the mission. His mom and brother had been held hostage since the day his dad was murdered.
The young man now being pursued ran desperately as fear grabbed him. His hands were shaking and he was barely hanging on. A gunshot sounded. Another shot was fired; this time he felt an impact. Before his brain had time to process what happened, he was slammed to the ground. His body, in shock, had fallen and all he could feel was the intense throbbing sensation coming from his left arm. Slowly, head swarming, blood dripping, he staggered up out of the snow. He caught sight of an old shack that jutted out of the woods, and tried to run to it. He knew he couldn’t be caught or his family would suffer. The boy staggered onto his feet and up to the door of the cabin, and leaned his body against it.

With his right arm he yanked at the doorknob and he fell into the dark room. The blood dripped on his pants and bled like ink on paper. Edging into the obscure room he slipped into the darkest corner behind the door. Gasping, he felt like he was screaming in the silence. He wanted to hide from James, his follower. He wanted to live another day. He wanted to see his family.
There was sudden pressure and a loud crack, then a motionless silence. He flinched in the corner, and his body spasmodically shook from terror. He threw himself at James and ran for the door. His body immediately felt the loss of blood from his wound. His vision was blurry, his mind disoriented, and he collapsed to the ground.
The next thing he remembered he was waking up in a hospital bed, alone. His family had been killed because he had failed his mission; he didn’t have a home or any place to go, but he had his life. Somehow it seemed that death would have been less painful.