Tyrone's breath came in sharp, irregular bursts as he sprinted through the back road, his wife's hand held firmly in his. His heart beat against his ribs like a drumbeat of fear. Each step on the ground felt like a little victory—a reminder that they were still alive. The old woman’s house, their brief sanctuary, was presently blurring behind them, and each step forward was another step away from the peril that had haunted them for days. "Quicker, Tyrone!" his wife encouraged her voice with a sharp whisper of freeze. The dim street lights cast long, spooky shadows that moved before them, and the muggy night air clung to their skin like a cover. Tyrone held her hand more tightly. "I'm trying, babe," he answered, his voice a blend of assurance and fear. "We ought to get to the police station. We can’t let them capture us once more." Her face was pale, her shining eyes presently shadowed with depletion and stress. She gestured, gulping her fear. "Do you think the police will listen to

The house was covered in the stillness of early morning, the kind that clung to the air like a thick haze, wrapping the rooms in an overwhelming hush. Tyrone sat on the edge of their bed, his shoulders drooped forward, his head held in his hands. The black out light inching in through the splits of the drawn shades scarcely touched him. He hadn’t rested much again, and the weight of weariness pulled at his movements. Bad dreams had clung to him like a moment's skin ever since that day. No matter how difficult he tried to shake them off, they continuously found their way back into his mind, inching into his dreams and turning them into unending, choking circles of fear. Behind him, Judy mixed, her eyes shuddering open. She comes to her impulses, her hand brushing against the empty space adjacent to her. The coldness there made her scowl, and she sat up, her look settling on Tyrone’s slouched figure. She observed him for a minute, taking in the way his shoulders trembled with each shal

Tyrone sat at a little café close to his inn in downtown Chicago, tasting a solid cup of coffee as he surveyed his notes for the up and coming presentation. It was an early autumn morning, and the fresh air carried an indication of fervour that continuously appeared to go with his trips to the city. This conference was a huge deal for him, a chance to grandstand his most recent extension and possibly secure a few major subsidies. His mind was totally ingested in last-minute plans, and he scarcely took note of the individuals bustling around him. In the meantime, Judy was on a plane from the airplane terminal, her heart dashing with expectation. She had been arranging this surprise visit for weeks, carefullymaking her plan to coincide with Tyrone's conference. She knew how critical this conference was to him, and in spite of the fact that her own work kept her busy, she couldn't stand up to the thought of being there to bolster him. The plan was straightforward: arrive in Chicago, che