Alive and Free

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