Sleepers - Prologue
by SteveB
Posted: 21 July 2008 Word Count: 1182 Summary: This is the Prologue of my current work-in-progress novel called Sleepers |
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PROLOGUE
The cold air froze his lungs. Every breath was gasped with a desperation borne of fear and panic.
He mustn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. His legs felt like lead. The muscles were knotting like jagged stones in his calves and thighs. He’d never run so hard in his life.
But he had to keep going. He had to keep running.
Beside him, Cally was furiously pumping her arms in time with her legs. Her cheeks were a vivid red. Tears of exertion squeezing out from the corners of her eyes.
They both sprinted across the field, racing past the heads of corn, their faces and bodies whipped by the tall woody stalks, their legs and feet scratched by stones and twigs thrown up from the ground.
‘We’ve got to get to the trees,’ gasped Cally. ‘We’ll get cover there. He won’t be able to follow us.’
Simon nodded, his eyes stinging from sweat rolling down from his forehead.
Behind them, a hundred metres or so back, at the edge of the field, they could hear the nasal voice of the Scarecrow. His horse, a whip-marked black stallion with deep scars running down its flanks, whinnied and kicked at the ground.
‘You won’t get away from me,’ the Scarecrow said. ‘You can run and run, but you won’t escape.’
‘Don’t listen,’ said Cally, ‘just keep running…’
The Scarecrow continued; his voice cutting through the field. ‘I’ve got a gun. You know that don’t you. I don’t care if I take one of you or both of you in. They’ll still pay handsomely for young ‘uns. If I’ve got to shoot one of you then I will.’
Simon looked back for a moment and in doing so lost both his concentration and his footing. He pitched forward heavily, his feet tripping on the uneven ground. He threw his arms out to break the fall as his body sprawled headlong on the dry, stony soil. Blood pinpricked on his hands and ran freely from an open gash on his right knee. He swallowed a cry of anguish and blinked back tears.
Cally stopped, her eyes wide with fear. She turned and dashed back to him.
‘We’ve got to keep going,’ she said. Her eyes darted around anxiously, waiting for the tell tale signs of movement through the field. She reached out her hand to Simon.
‘I’m coming in now,’ shouted the Scarecrow. ‘You’ll pay for running from me. I might just set the dogs on you before turning you in… they always like a bit of fresh meat.’
Simon scrabbled to his feet, his knees and hands smarting.
‘Let’s split up,’ said Cally. She pointed her arms in a wide V. ‘You go to the left, I’ll go to the right.’ She hugged him and kissed him on the forehead. He held onto her and squeezed tightly.
‘We’ll meet in the woods,’ she said, ‘I love you bro…’ She smiled uneasily, touched his arm, and set off running to the right.
Simon watched her go for a brief moment before setting off to the left. He ran as fast as he could, careful of where he was putting his feet, risking the occasional look to his right, watching his sister, one year older at thirteen, and 6 inches taller, running at an angle away from him towards the shelter of the trees. ‘Go on Cally,’ he whispered as they ran. He continued to say it under his breath, urging her onwards, as he approached the cover of the trees.
Behind them, the Scarecrow had seen them separate. ‘Damn,’ he whispered angrily to himself. He kicked his spurs irritably into the flesh of his horse. ‘Come on,’ he hissed, raising his whip and bringing it down hard on the horse’s flank. The horse started forward, his head flicking up, jerking the Scarecrow back in the saddle. ‘We’ll take the girl,’ he said. ‘I can just see her. She’s the taller one. I can’t see where the little runt of a brother has gone. We’ll get him later.’ The horse pulled to the right and set off through the field.
Simon’s heart missed a beat as he saw the Scarecrow head off after Cally. His stomach contracted painfully and he felt tears forming behind his eyes. A lump sat thickly in his throat. ‘Run Cally,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, run…’
Simon was only twenty meters from the edge of the trees, He could see nothing beyond. In the woods, it was as dark as a moonless night. Light didn’t penetrate its depths beyond the first metre or so.
‘Stop or I’ll shoot,’ shouted the Scarecrow, the evil in his voice exploding menacingly as he closed the gap on Cally.
Simon slowed and looked over at Cally. She was still running as fast as she could but the Scarecrow was closing the gap. With every stride of his horse, he was getting closer. Simon could feel his body shaking. He had never been so frightened.
Just a few more metres… run Cally run.
The Scarecrow raised the shotgun to his shoulder. ‘Do as I say girl or I’ll shoot. You stop right now…’
Cally kept running. She dodged to the right and then to the left. If he was going to shoot, then she’d make it damn difficult for him. She could hear the Scarecrow behind her. She knew he was getting closer. All her muscles were screaming out in pain.
‘I will not stop,’ she repeated to herself. ‘I will not stop, I will not stop…’ Her heart was pounding like a machine about to explode.
‘I’ll blast you to hell…’ screamed the Scarecrow. ‘You’ll not get away from me. I’m the best Catcher there is. You’ll not escape.’
The Scarecrow fixed Cally in the sights of the gun. He held the gun in his right hand, his left hand gripping the reins of the horse. He hated it when he couldn’t take them in alive. But then again, there were some benefits. At least he could practice his shooting skills.
It was always better sport when the animals were alive.
‘One more chance little girl,’ he screeched, his voice becoming more hoarse and scratchy.
Cally ducked down and sidestepped to the right. There was only a few metres more. Surely she could make it. She willed her self on. She prayed Simon would keep going whatever happened. She was so close now. She could nearly reach the trees with her hands. She was safe, she must be.
The noise of the shotgun exploded across the field.
‘Nooooooooo…,’ screamed Simon.
Cally flew forwards, blown off her feet by the blast. She landed crumpled like a loose sack of grain on the edge of the forest, her body rolling into the trees on the boundary of the field.
The last thing she heard before darkness overtook her was Simon’s desperate shriek of horror. The last thing she felt was a pain like none she had ever experienced before. The last thing she saw was a pair of hands urgently reaching out to her from the woods…
The cold air froze his lungs. Every breath was gasped with a desperation borne of fear and panic.
He mustn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. His legs felt like lead. The muscles were knotting like jagged stones in his calves and thighs. He’d never run so hard in his life.
But he had to keep going. He had to keep running.
Beside him, Cally was furiously pumping her arms in time with her legs. Her cheeks were a vivid red. Tears of exertion squeezing out from the corners of her eyes.
They both sprinted across the field, racing past the heads of corn, their faces and bodies whipped by the tall woody stalks, their legs and feet scratched by stones and twigs thrown up from the ground.
‘We’ve got to get to the trees,’ gasped Cally. ‘We’ll get cover there. He won’t be able to follow us.’
Simon nodded, his eyes stinging from sweat rolling down from his forehead.
Behind them, a hundred metres or so back, at the edge of the field, they could hear the nasal voice of the Scarecrow. His horse, a whip-marked black stallion with deep scars running down its flanks, whinnied and kicked at the ground.
‘You won’t get away from me,’ the Scarecrow said. ‘You can run and run, but you won’t escape.’
‘Don’t listen,’ said Cally, ‘just keep running…’
The Scarecrow continued; his voice cutting through the field. ‘I’ve got a gun. You know that don’t you. I don’t care if I take one of you or both of you in. They’ll still pay handsomely for young ‘uns. If I’ve got to shoot one of you then I will.’
Simon looked back for a moment and in doing so lost both his concentration and his footing. He pitched forward heavily, his feet tripping on the uneven ground. He threw his arms out to break the fall as his body sprawled headlong on the dry, stony soil. Blood pinpricked on his hands and ran freely from an open gash on his right knee. He swallowed a cry of anguish and blinked back tears.
Cally stopped, her eyes wide with fear. She turned and dashed back to him.
‘We’ve got to keep going,’ she said. Her eyes darted around anxiously, waiting for the tell tale signs of movement through the field. She reached out her hand to Simon.
‘I’m coming in now,’ shouted the Scarecrow. ‘You’ll pay for running from me. I might just set the dogs on you before turning you in… they always like a bit of fresh meat.’
Simon scrabbled to his feet, his knees and hands smarting.
‘Let’s split up,’ said Cally. She pointed her arms in a wide V. ‘You go to the left, I’ll go to the right.’ She hugged him and kissed him on the forehead. He held onto her and squeezed tightly.
‘We’ll meet in the woods,’ she said, ‘I love you bro…’ She smiled uneasily, touched his arm, and set off running to the right.
Simon watched her go for a brief moment before setting off to the left. He ran as fast as he could, careful of where he was putting his feet, risking the occasional look to his right, watching his sister, one year older at thirteen, and 6 inches taller, running at an angle away from him towards the shelter of the trees. ‘Go on Cally,’ he whispered as they ran. He continued to say it under his breath, urging her onwards, as he approached the cover of the trees.
Behind them, the Scarecrow had seen them separate. ‘Damn,’ he whispered angrily to himself. He kicked his spurs irritably into the flesh of his horse. ‘Come on,’ he hissed, raising his whip and bringing it down hard on the horse’s flank. The horse started forward, his head flicking up, jerking the Scarecrow back in the saddle. ‘We’ll take the girl,’ he said. ‘I can just see her. She’s the taller one. I can’t see where the little runt of a brother has gone. We’ll get him later.’ The horse pulled to the right and set off through the field.
Simon’s heart missed a beat as he saw the Scarecrow head off after Cally. His stomach contracted painfully and he felt tears forming behind his eyes. A lump sat thickly in his throat. ‘Run Cally,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, run…’
Simon was only twenty meters from the edge of the trees, He could see nothing beyond. In the woods, it was as dark as a moonless night. Light didn’t penetrate its depths beyond the first metre or so.
‘Stop or I’ll shoot,’ shouted the Scarecrow, the evil in his voice exploding menacingly as he closed the gap on Cally.
Simon slowed and looked over at Cally. She was still running as fast as she could but the Scarecrow was closing the gap. With every stride of his horse, he was getting closer. Simon could feel his body shaking. He had never been so frightened.
Just a few more metres… run Cally run.
The Scarecrow raised the shotgun to his shoulder. ‘Do as I say girl or I’ll shoot. You stop right now…’
Cally kept running. She dodged to the right and then to the left. If he was going to shoot, then she’d make it damn difficult for him. She could hear the Scarecrow behind her. She knew he was getting closer. All her muscles were screaming out in pain.
‘I will not stop,’ she repeated to herself. ‘I will not stop, I will not stop…’ Her heart was pounding like a machine about to explode.
‘I’ll blast you to hell…’ screamed the Scarecrow. ‘You’ll not get away from me. I’m the best Catcher there is. You’ll not escape.’
The Scarecrow fixed Cally in the sights of the gun. He held the gun in his right hand, his left hand gripping the reins of the horse. He hated it when he couldn’t take them in alive. But then again, there were some benefits. At least he could practice his shooting skills.
It was always better sport when the animals were alive.
‘One more chance little girl,’ he screeched, his voice becoming more hoarse and scratchy.
Cally ducked down and sidestepped to the right. There was only a few metres more. Surely she could make it. She willed her self on. She prayed Simon would keep going whatever happened. She was so close now. She could nearly reach the trees with her hands. She was safe, she must be.
The noise of the shotgun exploded across the field.
‘Nooooooooo…,’ screamed Simon.
Cally flew forwards, blown off her feet by the blast. She landed crumpled like a loose sack of grain on the edge of the forest, her body rolling into the trees on the boundary of the field.
The last thing she heard before darkness overtook her was Simon’s desperate shriek of horror. The last thing she felt was a pain like none she had ever experienced before. The last thing she saw was a pair of hands urgently reaching out to her from the woods…
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