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Egress |  |
Later, I have a vague recollection of running through town, people staring at me and shrinking away. There are gunshots, but they sound so far away that I barely pay attention to them. I'm staying low and trying to use cover, running primarily on pure instinct, my mind kicked fully into flight mode. I remember screams, and I remember thrusting out with my knife and a wetness on my hands. I remember running out into the darkness, sounds of pursuit behind me.
There are bushes to the right, and I dive into them, looking out through the branches into the inky wet blackness around me. My pupils are so big right now that I can see just fine, despite the lack of light, and I see several armed men—five, maybe six—fanning out and looking for me. Things are suddenly so clear right now, and the rest of the world seems to be moving at a crawl. They won't find my footprints in the dark and the rain, but they might find my hiding place; I should stay mobile.
I get on my feet, hunched down almost doubled over, and I lope along the shrub line, always keeping something between me and the search party. I'm starting to run out of cover, though, and one of the watchmen has placed himself directly between me and my path of escape. I move quickly, stealthily up to him while his back is turned, my bloody knife in my hand, my other hand outstretched. I stand straight up and cover his mouth with my free hand, bringing my blade up and dragging it across his throat in one smooth, efficient motion. He stiffens for a moment, then I feel all the fight go out of him as his muscles slacken and he falls limply to the ground. He's got a mace on his belt and there's a rifle on the ground in front of him. I already have a knife and I don't really like bludgeons that much, but a rifle could come in really handy. I pick up the sodden firearm, then I quickly check all the likely places for spare ammo. For my trouble, I score a belt pouch full of bullets, which I'm sure I'll put to good use. I tie the pouch to my own belt and hold the rife in my free hand, my other hand still clutching my knife.
The other watchmen have moved off in different directions, so it's time for me to make a run for it. Still trying to stay somewhat low, I run off in a direction that looks promising, hoping it won't put me too far off course for Pullic.
