There was someone out there. I could hear the crunching footsteps going past, but they weren't far enough apart for me to escape from the niche I was crouched in. The first rule echoed in my head over and over, but it wasn't enough to keep my cover. I exploded out of the hollow with my stolen gun cocked and ready, but there was no-one there. Puzzled, I twisted around quickly to find a face twisted with anger and hurt behind me. He jerked his hand around my gun, then his other one backwards toward a small truck, but before he could reach me to pull me along, my reflexes kicked in. Literally. Stomach, face, knees and outta there. Running, I flew up the slope to get a good lookout for any more Red-sleeves, so I would be able to get back to the hut.
Libby Stult, teen convict. Me.
We were kicked out because of our reflexes, speed, brains or looks, so there's no-one slow or dopey here that you can order around, and I must say, I do miss it. Put up for adoption at the age of eight, I was out on the streets within a week of those dumb houses with all their rules. Found by the 'pound' after six years, I had a gang, money and friends, all of my own doing. Put in a cage too small for someone half my height, I shot the lock open and strolled away casually, as if I had every right to have a stolen gun in my hand. That bought me here, the middle of nowhere with only two bullets left. Hmm.
Only one way in or out, no-exit road with at least 30 km between me and my gang, what was a girl to do? I had nothing left in my pockets, but there was a small packet of food that I had taken to carrying around with me. Without thinking, I devoured it, then hit myself. Hard. Setting off down the gravel road, I looked at my surroundings. Mostly dry bush and shriveled trees that would give me next to no shelter from bullets and eyes. But mainly bullets. I walked for what seemed like hours, but I can't be sure because they had stolen my watch as well. Oh joy. After a long time I heard the rumbling of a vehicle, so I sprinted to some cover. What I didn't notice was that my feet left scuff marks, so they could see that I'd been there. Climbing a particularly bushy tree that stuck out over the road, I cursed and wished I was wearing something more camo.
As the truck drew nearer, I got my gun out ready to use if need be. They drove up, and suddenly braked just before the scuff marks. I cursed again silently, meanwhile hoping they hadn't seen me and that they wouldn't try and find me. They stopped right under the tree I was hiding in, and one of them got outto have a look. My mind racing, I worked out that if they didn't hear or see me then I could get to under the truck and cling on. I took a deep breath, prayed, and jumped. The Red-sleeve was shooting at some bush, so neither him or his partner noticed as I rolled under the truck and clung on. Red-sleeve sighed, climbed back in the truck and started driving. I resisted the urge to cheer, and concentrated on holding on tight.
Once we hit a paved road, I realised that we were entering a town, and I held my breath, hoping like mad that we would stop at a shop and that they would ask if I had been seen. Sure enough, we came across a small Cafe, and they got out and walked inside. Now was my chance! I dropped, crawled out, and casually walked away, opening someones gate and strolled in, knocked on the door. An old woman opened it, I pleaded for a drink, and like magic, she asked me in. I told her I would wait in the hall, and kept looking out the window. The truck moved off slowly, did a u-turn, and drove back the way we had come. . .