Hello readers. This is my first Phineas and Ferb fic, so please rate and review. Flames Welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own phineas and ferb.
(No One POV)
The sun was rising over a highway devoid of cars. An observer would have thought it serene: the sun peeking out over the horizon, its rays slowly brightening the sky and illuminating the grass flanking the road. It was another beautiful sunrise. Then the observer would notice something disturbing this peaceful scene: a lone figure was running along the highway with the sun following, as if he was pulling Apollo's chariot.
He had been on the run for three weeks. He had travelled from city to city, hitchhiking, and, when necessary, running. He never stayed in any city for more than a few hours, just long enough to grab whatever supplies he needed. He would then leave and never look back. His blood red shirt and blue jeans were torn from the wear. His jet black hair was greasy from the weeks without a shower. He had no supplies; he hadn't eaten in three days and the last water he had was from a sink in a gas station bathroom a few miles back. The camouflage backpack he carried was slightly unzipped, providing air for his only companion: a sleeping black alley cat with yellow-green eyes.
He ignored the loneliness. He had never had any real friends anyway. The cat had been his only real companion. His "friends" would always turn their backs him, but that cat was always there. Maybe one day he would have friends. But he couldn't worry about that now. For now, he would continue to press on.
He ignored the pain. He ignored the pain from his right shoulder, which he had injured when jumping out of some person's moving pick-up truck. He ignored the pain from his left ankle, which he had likely sprained when he missed the curb in some city, he couldn't remember which. He ignored the many cuts on his arms and legs, received from the many thorns of bushes he had climbed through during his flight. Most of all, he ignored the pain from his cracked ribs. He wasn't sure when he received these. He ignored the pain from his still-broken arm, which he had received from his last encounter with that monster. He ignored the pain from the relatively recent scars on his back, received in that same encounter. Most of all, he ignored the pain in his heart, from the knowledge of what that monster had done.
Too long, he had let that monster have its way with him. Too long he had let that monster torture him. He couldn't continue to be near that monster. He had to escape from it. He knew that monster was chasing him. He didn't know where that monster was, but he knew that monster would continue to the end of the world if it had to. He knew too much.
He knew he would have to stop somewhere, but he would need to keep running for some time if he wanted to survive. So he pressed on, ignoring the burning in his lungs from the hours he had been running on this stretch of road. He ignored the ache in his legs from the miles passed. He ignored the cottonmouth from the dehydration. He ignored his stomach's growling from lack of food. He ignored the exhaustion from the previous few sleepless nights. He had to keep running, or that monster would catch him, and the ending would not be pretty. He likely wouldn't survive another encounter with that monster. He knew too much.
So he pressed on. He had two fairly big problems he needed to deal with. First, he needed supplies. He wouldn't be able to last much more than another day on his current lack of supplies, probably less. Second, exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation were causing him to slow down. He glanced over to his right, taking careful note of what the sign said: "Danville 20 Miles." He quickly did the math in his head. He would hopefully be there by midday. Then he would be able to rest and grab the supplies he needed. But he had to get there first.
So he pressed on. He steeled himself against the pain. He steeled himself against the fatigue. He steeled himself against the fear that kept him running. He forced himself to go emotionless, like he had done many times before, only once smiling when the cat mewed softly as it woke.
As he held this resolve, he charged through the first fifteen miles. He didn't seem to notice the time pass, just the difference in location. But then the resolve started cracking. Fatigue and dehydration were starting to take its toll. He started to feel the aches and pains he tried so hard to ignore. A few miles later, his vision started to blur. He started to feel lightheaded. He shook his head to try to ward off the dizziness. He was so close to his destination. He couldn't stop now. So he pressed on. He was so busy battling the fatigue, he barely noticed as the remaining miles passed. He barely noticed the suburbs fast approaching. He barely noticed the sign that signified that he had reached his destination:
"Welcome to Danville."
Again, I ask: Please rate and review! I need all the advice I can get.