Jake Wilson slowly drove his SUV, a great vehicle. Seats eight, with a gallon of water, three day's worth of food, and blankets, survival kit, and guns. Lots of guns. Because Jake was wanted. Wanted by the whole world really, For a crime, he didn't commit. He was innocent.

That wasn't what anyone else thought. He used to be a millionaire, a scientist and builder engineer before his world went to hell.

He had created 'GENNOMENCLATURE-RNA_Aj34kPQ', or R.A.C.E.S (RNA accessing coding evolving-structure) a small injection that could allow the host to change RNA, something that carries DNA information to the ribosome, and the coding of RNA determines genes or DNA.

However, remember how the injection could let the host control RNA? To simplify it, this was different from normal RNA, you could make yourself grow extra limbs, change colour, size, all by your mind. The only bad thing was that it could wear off at any time, leaving you with four legs, purple skin, four feet tall, whatever;

But what happened when the shot fell into the wrong hands? It involves terrorists, the serum stolen, and Jake framed for giving the invaluable chemical to the enemy. Framed. On death row, without a trial, which from what Jake knew was I don't know... illegal? Sorta? He didn't know, because he didn't get one.

The evidence was rather clear: The injection, R.A.C.E.S, was in a deep-earth bunker, with guards, and the only people who had keycards to actually open the steel vault that the thing was located was Jake, and his best friend, Mateo. But Mateo was found dead, guards all massacred, serum gone, and camera footage showing Jake supposedly shooting everybody inside, before taking the shot and leaving.

It was dumb, why would he steal something that belonged to him, kill random guards he knew quite well and a childhood friend? But the vault, besides the keycard, needed facial recognition, eye recognition, voice recognition and more stuff Jake couldn't even remember. Yet plenty of people had confirmed that someone breaking into the vault was physically impossible, the one other person who could enter was murdered, and the only person to access it had survived and what do you know, that exact serum ended into terrorist hands.

Jake had ended up with over 65 first degree-murders, nation treason, and more bizarre things that were piled on. The punishment? Public death. The government declared that anyone who wanted him dead could come and literally shoot him, while Jake got shot by the firing squad. Ouch. Bullets coming from everywhere. Jake could only imagine. He had escaped by jumping into a random car, driving to his home, which was already destroyed and had graffiti all over it, grabbed supplies and jumped into his SUV, which he had made by good, honest money. Not by selling 953'000'000$ DNA-steroids to terrorists.

A tear rolled down his face. I'm innocent. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?" He screamed in rage to nobody in particular. "WHY ME?" He shrieked at the universe, at God, at everybody in existence. "I'M A GOOD PERSON! I PAID MY TAXES!" He croaked hoarsely from all the yelling. "Why me?" He repeated, full-on crying.

Then a noise made him stop. Surely, three military vehicles were in pursuit. Jake cursed before stepping down on the gas pedal. He vaguely remembered what Liam would do, a smart guy with wits and guts, who had tight-rope walked hundreds of feet above the ground, driven at 120 km, had loved the risky life. Jake had enjoyed safety. Said the guy now driving at 109 km, hoping the armed forces wouldn't shoot-

BANG! BANG! BANG! RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT! Gunfire exploded from all directions and Jake was glad he had paid extra, a lot extra, for reinforced glass. A blockade ahead, the enemy behind. No choice but too... Jake pushed his foot down even harder. What the-

A tire had popped, and he was headed right for an off-road ramp-

Jake's car flew into the air, and the man bounced around in his car for what seemed like eternity before a stop. Jake opened his eyes. "I survived," he rasped out loud, unable to move, pinned down by the airbag, seatbelt restraining him anyway before the airbag with a hiss, retracted and he could breath more comfortably. With cuts and bruises all over his body, he was numb, barely able to feel his body-

And he saw a face. A soldier was pointing his gun at him-and Jake waited for the million bullets that would end his life. But they didn't come. Instead, he smelt a weird smell-gasoline. Was his car leaking? He saw the cause with his rear-view mirror. The soldiers were pouring gasoline all over his car, and a face appeared.

"Goodbye traitor," a man, probably a general or something, spat, literally, spitting in his face, before lighting a match. "We salute you." And he dropped the match.

Soldier P.O.V:

To General Mustard and his men, as they drove away, the car exploding behind them a few minutes later, it would seem to anyone that the supposed traitor, monster, had died a painful death that suited him. But little did they see the badly burned and injured figure crawling out far away enough before the massive explosion.

Back to Jake's P.O.V

I can't die like this, Jake thought miserably, upside-down. There wasn't too much gasoline, the soldiers had siphoned some gas from their vehicles, but not too much. But the heat was incredible. Jake pressed the seatbelt button. It didn't work, wiggling around, a rattling sound was heard; the locking mechanism was broken, he couldn't free himself. I thought seatbelts were supposed to save people, he thought almost humorously, before feeling the heat coming closer.

He felt a sharp tool, a pocketknife, a few inches from his hand. Reaching out, he grabbed the thing at started sawing, as fast as he could. Back, forth... back, forth...

Come on... come on... Jake flinched as smoke flooded the car before the damned strap broke and he fell on his head, blood flowing. He tried to crawl out- the window was still there. He kicked at it, but the reinforced glass, which had saved him only a couple of minutes ago, was now probably going to kill him. It was slightly cracked at the middle, a spiderweb crack formation, and he hit it with the knife over and over, but each time the knife bounced off.

I guess this is it... Jake thought to himself hopelessly, before the door literally swung open. No way. He couldn't get any luckier. He couldn't- his knee happened to go on top of a sharp shard of glass, and Jake gritted his teeth as he jackknifed in pain, before tumbling into a ditch. He pulled out the glass, and as in on cue, the car exploded into smithereens, and Jake covered his bloody head. I survived, he realized.

Everyone thought he was dead. And here he was, bloody, gritty and filthy, but alive. One thing to do now.

Jake turned, and ran into the distance before his mind managed to form one thought-

I'm a convict.