His lungs burned, his mouth was dry from breathing hard for so long, but he continued to run. They were behind him. He wasn't sure how much of a lead he had, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough. He had to escape, had to hide, had to avoid his pursuers at all costs. Sprinting around the corner of a building, his fatigued legs faltered, and he nearly fell. By the time he reached the other end of the alleyway his legs gave out again and he crashed into a dumpster parked beside the sidewalk.

On instinct, he rolled himself under the dumpster and tried to quiet his heavy breathing. The loud footfalls that had been getting ever closer soon ground to a halt mere inches from his face. Ten shoes came into view from his vantage point beneath the dumpster, and he could do nothing but wait and see what happened next.

"He went this way," spoke a gravelly voice in a breathless pant, "I'm sure of it."

The hidden young man's wide and panicked eyes narrowed to a half-lidded glare of determination. Yes, self-preservation was important, but it had to come second today. There was a particular item buttoned securely into his shirt pocket that was far more important than his own personal safety right now. If he got another chance, it had to be taken care of before anything else. An idea struck him. It didn't feel like a good idea, honestly, but he didn't have time to wait for for good ideas to come along. It was risky, but it was a move they might not expect of him, and that was the only advantage he could imagine having over his adversaries at this moment. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a creased and battered envelope.

Taking a furtive glance up, the silent observer saw five pairs of feet near enough that he could reach out and touch them. Each pair was restless, their owners clearly not able to decide what direction they should be pointed next. The young man's breath came slightly easier at that sight. They didn't know where to look, which means they didn't know they were right on top of him. It was only a small moment of minor victory, but he had learned to take comfort in those when he could. A tiny grin of relief touched the corners of his mouth.

"You two, that way! The rest with me!" shouted another of the men, the edge of authority in his voice. He was clearly used to being in charge, and the way he gave orders left no question that they were going to be obeyed. All of the shoes took off down the street, heading in two directions. This left their earlier route unguarded. From under the dumpster came a sigh of relief. He wasn't safe yet, but he had bought time, and that just might be enough.

He returned his attention to the envelope in his hands. It was addressed and stamped already, ready to mail the folded letter within. The letter was unfinished, as it had been for all the months he carried it, but he had no pen or pencil now to correct that. Besides, if he couldn't decide what he wanted to say then, he wasn't likely to find the words right now. Hands still shaking from adrenaline and fatigue, he reached into his pocket, and retrieved a tiny rectangular item. He looked at it for a second or two before dropping it into the open envelope. Sealing the envelope proved to be an unexpected problem for his dry tongue. After several tries he finally managed to summon enough saliva to get it done.

The man beneath the dumpster waited several more seconds, catching his breath, needing to let the acid sensation in his legs subside to a level where they'd at least consider listening to his commands again. Taking one last deep breath, the young man rolled from out into the light and tried to come up running, with only partial success. His first few steps were weak and he faltered, his abused muscles clearly not happy about getting such a short reprieve, but he steadied himself and took off back the way he had come. He knew what he needed next, and he had seen it just a minute or two before. Again the desperate man reflected on his plan. It really was a terrible plan, too many things could go wrong. Could it put others in danger? Could he risk that? Head buzzing with indecision, he slowed down to think about this. On the other hand, if this did work, it would give him an excuse to take the long delayed trip home. A genuine smile touched his face at the thought. Still, could he justify the risk?

The sound of shouts and running feet coming in his direction brought the time for contemplation to an abrupt end. It had to be done, and it had to be done now. Adrenaline hit him like a bolt of lightning, masking the burning in his muscles and giving him the strength to sprint once again. He ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk, and heard shouting that confirmed he had been spotted once again. This was a bit earlier than he had hoped, but nothing a bit of improvisation couldn't fix.

He stumbled and fell hard against a sturdy city mailbox, stopping to pant for breath for a full second before he regained his footing and took off at a sprint again. He had a lead on the men, but he was outnumbered and tired. Yet he grinned to himself as he dashed down another alley with five sets of feet stomping along at what should have been alarming proximity.

Despite the burning ache in every muscle of his body, his smile grew bigger as he continued to run. Clearly none of the men at his heels had paid any attention to the small, ordinary sound of a mailbox door squeaking closed.

To be continued...