Riff's grip on my wrist was iron as we strode to the double doors leading out of the store, out into the blindingly bright sunshine. I squinted against the bombardment of my irises, hand clasping Riffs coming up to block the light. I still wasn't used to the sun, having spent my entire remembered life in the dark. But my hand wasn't able to fully come up before Riff yanked it and we were off, supplies rustling loudly as we walked quickly around the edge of the building onto the next street. I started to casually look over my shoulder to see if they were following but Riff yanked on my hand again, spinning me back around. When I glared at him, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and said, "Don't look. Right now, the only thing keeping them from shooting us is the belief that we are still ignorant of their presence, and therefore they can afford to find a less public spot before making a move."

         Feeling slightly chastened, I kept my eyes forward, darting from person to person, trying to determine if they were a part of the group trailing us. Was the old women watering the flowers in front of her shop hiding a gun in her apron, ready to shoot at the slightest motion? What about the young man leaning against the side of the drug store, smoking a cigarette and talking into a small strange metal box ("That's a phone," my old self whispered, for which I hissed back, "Shut up.")? How can I be sure that any of the people I see aren't working with the company following us? This was making me paranoid, even more so then I already was. It also served as a blunt reminder of the motto I had lived on for as long as I remembered; trust no one.

         Except for, of course, strange men who bust into your prison cell and randomly rescue you. Man, I really did need to have that chat with Riff. 

         We rounded the next corner, ready to dodge and weave through any pedestrians that happen to be in our way. Only, as we turned, we found that there was nobody on this street, nobody walking or running or even just mowing their lawn or watering their flowers. Uh oh, was all I was able to think before the feet following us starting pounding nearer, ready to seize the opportunity. 

         "Shit," Riff whispered under his breath, but this time it was me that pulled on his wrist and took off, all pretense abandoned. We were off like a rocket, with me in lead for a few brief seconds before Riff overcame me and was once again pulling me along. Damn, that was annoying. If I ever got out of this alive, I was going to seriously need to work on regaining muscle. Our pursuers cursed, realizing we were on to them, and tripled their pace. 

         For a few minutes, we were back to the day we first escaped; Riff and I running relentlessly with angry guards on our tail. My focus narrowed down, once again, to putting one foot in front of the other, to the puffing of my breath and the wheezing of my lungs. To the thudding of the plastic bags against my thighs. My vision blurred, hardly seeing or caring what was around us. I was aware enough to know that there were quite a few curious people staring now, and that, from the houses around us - or, more specifically, the growing spaces between each house - that we were getting further and further away from the town. 

         That also meant we were getting further and further away from our main goal. 

         Suddenly, there was a screech behind us. I threw one look over my shoulder, and my eyes widened. The van that had been before innocently sitting in the driveway of one of the houses lining the road around us had sputtered to life and was now cruising towards us at full speed. With a string of curses, I swung to the side, yanking Riff with me. We sprawled in the dirt at the side of the road, and the van roared past. I felt the hot wind from the engine wash over us, as well as the stinging scent of motor oil and the biting stench of stale cigarettes. The van screeched to a halt down the road, tires squealing painfully loud as it attempted to turn around without stopping.

        With no time to lose and the pursuers on foot closing in, Riff and I mutely scrambled to our feet and resumed our breakneck pace, veering out of the street and into the sprawling yards of the houses beside us. We speed through an obstacle course made of tall wooden fences - which Riff would boost me over and he would vault like they were nothing but toothpicks -  and the occasional children's playground equipment. Every time I thought we had lost the people pursuing us, they would false by in the corner of my eye, barely seen through the houses and trees separating us, but still there, following diligently. If there was only one good thing I could say about these guards (and believe me there was hardly even that), it was that they were definitely fit. I most definitely would have been caught if it wasn't for Riff's iron grip on my wrist, not letting me stop or even slow down. 

         We did seem to have ditched the van though, because I never caught a glimpse of that. 

        Or so I thought. 

        As we leaped over the next fence and veered around the back of the house into the driveway connecting this street to the one we had just ran from, the same van I thought we had lost pulled out in front of us, blocking our way forward. We dug our heels in, literally skidding a few inches in our haste, and spun around, ready to bolt. Yet again, we were stopped in our tracts as about a dozen people sprinted in from the other street, blocking the other route. We were now blocked in on all sides, with the wall of a house on one side and the fence we just vaulted on the other. We were trapped.

         Well, not completely.

         In the center of the wall beside us was a door, leading further into the house. And it stood wide open. 

         Riff and I both noticed the door at the same time. As the engine of the van reared and the footsteps of the guards behind us pounded closer, Riff and I exchanged a single look and sprinted as one into the house. 

         The inside was cool and smelled faintly of vanilla, and it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sudden gloom before I could see. What I saw amazed me.

         Don't ask me why, because it honestly wasn't all that amazing, and I knew that somewhere in my head, but that part was drowned out by the rest. The door we had just entered was a sliding glass door that entered into a small room filled with a single long wooden table and neat chairs. On top of the table were neatly placed plates and silverware, and in the middle of the table, in large platters made of white porcelain, was a feast. At least, it seemed like a feast to my starved mind. There was steaming piles of white clouds (mashed potatoes, apparently), small golden yellow corn (That one I knew without any extra help. It was one of the things we were occasionally fed, if the scientists were feeling generous. Which they often did not.), and an entire platter of some kind of meat. The whole meal gave off a tantalizing smell that I almost forgot that I was in the middle of a life or death chase. The only thing that stopped me from diving on the food was Riff's grip of my wrist.

         Though, to be honest, Riff seemed just as enticed as I was. It seemed that days of living on nothing but nuts was starting to get to him. The only thing that snapped us out of it was the sudden tinkling of shattering china. 

         With a start, I looked away from the table and noticed for the first time the person standing in the doorway. It was a women, mid twenties, with blond hair and a large, round stomach. She was staring at us, eyes wide enough to show the white around her irises, the plate she was holding now shattered all over the floor. I could imagine what she was seeing; two dirty, ratty people salivating at the food on her table. Like dogs. Behind us, I could hear the guards barking commands and the slapping of their feet as they closed in.

         Time to go.

         Cursing myself for having been so stupid and wasting so much time, I spun on my heel, ignoring the still staring women, and slammed through the second doorway in the room, the one the women wasn't standing in front of. This one led into a larger, more comfortable looking room, with furniture meant for relaxing, but I didn't allow myself to waste time again studying it. The women that had dropped the plate starting screaming, her high piercing wail stabbing into my eardrums, and a deeper voice answered back from overhead, but we didn't stay long enough to find out more. 

         Riff and I plunged straight through the room and out through the front door. Shouts, and the women's even more piercing scream, behind us told us that the guards on foot had also chosen to take the same shortcut as we had. From around the bend of the house came the screech of the vans wheels, but they couldn't turn around and had to back up in order to get back onto the street we were on. By that time we were already across the street and jumping the next row of fences. 

         We continued the same pattern, running and leaping and running some more, for several more minutes. How far had we gotten? It felt like we had crossed the entire town on foot. If this kept up, we might end up missing the only reason we had really came into this town. 

         "Did you look at the train schedule when you were down here earlier?" I shouted over at Riff without stopping, words coming out breathy. 

         "Yeah! The next train was at 12," he replied back, his words almost as breathy as mine. 

         "What about a clock?"

         "Didn't need to! The best clock is in here." His hand, the one still holding on to the sacks with our supplies (I don't know why we hadn't just dropped those already. Though, honestly, it would seem pointless if we dropped one of the only reasons we came into this town.) came up to touch his forehead. "We have about..." His voice faded as he glanced up at the sky and cursed. "No time." 

         "What?" What is it? 

         "We need to get to the train station within the next minute if we want to make that train!" 

         As if the universe was agreeing with him, a loud whistle cut through the air. The train! It was leaving! But why did it sound so close?

         We found out the answer to that question a second later. As Riff helped me over the next fence, my feet landed on gravel instead of the normal grass or pavement. We were suddenly no longer in trees and neat rows of houses but in open space, with several tracks stretching out before us. To our right, far down the line of tracks, I could just make out the train station. On the tracks right in front of the station, the train was already there, and it looked about ready to take off again, with smoke belching from its engines. The tail end of the train, the end with all the storage cars, was only feet in front of us, but it was slowly pulling away as the sluggish engine gained speed.

         "We need to catch that train!" I yelled.

         "I know!" Riff replied, brows furrowing as he thought. Without a second to lose, he started running after it, wrenching my arm as I struggled to keep up. If we could just catch on to it, then we can hitch a ride in those storage cars. 

         But that was harder then it sounded. The train was steadily gaining speed, and with me and the bags he was holding as dead weight, Riff wasn't able to run fast enough to catch the last car. Shouts behind us told us that our pursuers had once again caught up and were again giving chase. 

         Riff's eyes flash back at me, and I see the unspoken question behind them. He needed to catch that car and open the door on the side before we could even have a chance of entering and escaping. Even if that meant letting go of my hand to do it. I nod back at him.

         Fresh air rushes into my freed palm as Riff fingers let go of mine. Free of my burden, Riff suddenly gained speed, pumping his legs, and his unburdened arm stretching out to grip the handle of the storage car. His fingers closed around the handle and he swung himself up onto the small ledge attached to the side. Fumbling slightly, he finally grasped onto the handle of the door and rolled it open. He then disappeared into the dark opening. 

         Meanwhile, I had been struggling to keep up, and mostly failing. The train had surged distressingly far ahead, and no matter how hard I pumped my legs, I just couldn't reach it. Riff's head popped back out of the opening, and, seeing how far back I was, he swung himself out of the door and extended his other hand, the hand not gripping the door, to me. I couldn't hear what he shouted back at me, but I understood the gist. I just have to reach his hand... 

         Riff's eyes suddenly widened as he looked over my shoulder, and his hand started gesturing wildly for me to hurry. I glanced once back over my shoulder, and my own eyes widened in turn. The van was driving along the tracks behind us, the driver bent over the wheel as his foot pumped the gas. I whipped my head back around, and the fear was enough to drive me the last few feet to the end car of the train. 

         I reached out my hand, and the tips of my fingers bushed against Riffs. I lunged forward, fingers closing over his, and as he started tugging me forward, relief washed through me.

         Relief that came all too soon. 

         Because, just as I jumped to get into the car, something latched onto my ankle. Or someone. Riffs arm muscles bulged as he struggled to hold on, his fingers slipping on mine. I looked down. Latched around my ankle was a guard, his face hard as his feet dragged along the gravel ground, struggling for purchase. I swung the bags in my hand at his face, but he only smacked them away, with caused them to wrench out of my hands. Well, there goes that, I thought as these hard fought bags spun away onto the tracks. I kicked my legs, struggling to dislodge him, but he was like a leech. 

         Desperation filled me as my fingers slipped even more from Riff's. Apparently, that was enough to signal a major headache, and I squeezed my eyes closed as my senses narrowed and then snapped, automatically heightened. The sensation was less painful this time around then it had been any previous times. 

         Suddenly calm, I looked back at the guard attached to my leg. "Let go!" My mental scream plunged into his mind with the precision of a knife. The guards eyes widened and he flinched, hands loosening. But I didn't stop there. The calm feeling washed through my senses, filling me with a strange confidence. A ruthlessness. I felt disembodied as the guard lifted away from my foot, suspended in midair, as if I was just a stranger watching someone else. The guards mouth opened in a soundless scream as he drifted through the air, then shot towards the van closing in on us. I heard the crunch of the mans bones breaking as he slammed into the front window, breaking right through as if it was nothing but paper. But I felt no remorse. Not even as the van flipped head of heels, smashing beyond recognition. Nothing but a crumbled piece of metal with a few hidden human bone surprises. 

         I still felt nothing as Riff pulled me the last few feet into the gloom.