Chapter 1
"The prisoner is believed to be moving south through Williamsburg County. Everyone in that vicinity should be especially cautious. Morton Rainey is a Caucasian male, about age thirty-five, with brown hair and brown eyes and approximately five foot eight inches tall. He is armed and considered to be very dangerous. Please continue listening for more information…" Diane flipped the radio to another station and sighed. Some people are so paranoid, she thought. They sit and listen to the radio band all day just waiting for something exciting to happen. At least that criminal wasn't coming anywhere near her. She had a small cabin up near Morris Lake which was at least fifty miles from the northern border to Williamsburg County. Diane sighed as she turned into her winding driveway.
The sun was just starting to set when she finished her dinner in her small kitchen nook. The windows overlooked the lake which seemed to spread out into infinity, where it burned into the sun which sank lower, merging and then sizzling below the waves. After she washed the dishes, Diane decided to take a walk out near the lake in the cool autumn air. After pulling on a thin white jacket, she headed out into the midst of the trees.
The leaves seemed to mirror the shades of the sky, burning a bright yellow, and then a deeper crimson. She paused when something crunched behind her. Spinning around, she listened for another sound, but after a moment, all she could hear was the birds chirping and then suddenly, her senses began to prickle. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she held her breath, but there was still nothing. Then, there was too much. An arm circled her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. She started to scream, but something cold was pressed against her neck and she swallowed the sound. "Don't move or I'll kill you," a rough voice rasped in her ear, making goose bumps rise on her arms.
"Wha-what do you want?" she asked softly, her voice catching in her throat.
"Now ma'am, you don't get fidgety, I just need a bit o' help that's all. Now you just turn on back around and we'll head on back to that nice ol' cabin of yours."
He spun her around and she got her first look at the man. He was actually somewhat attractive for a criminal. His light brown hair hung in his face, brushing the thin wire framed glasses. The thing that drew her eye though, was the police issue gun he held pointed at her.
"Who are you?"
He looked at her with consideration for a moment and smirked. "The name's John Shooter," he kicked a leaf on the ground and then motioned with the gun. For a split second, she was terrified that it was going to go off on accident.
She turned her back on him slowly, praying that he wouldn't shoot her in the back, and with leaves crunching underfoot, she started back towards home.
"The prisoner is believed to be moving south through Williamsburg County. Everyone in that vicinity should be especially cautious. Morton Rainey is a Caucasian male, about age thirty-five, with brown hair and brown eyes and approximately five foot eight inches tall. He is armed and considered to be very dangerous. Please continue listening for more information…" Diane flipped the radio to another station and sighed. Some people are so paranoid, she thought. They sit and listen to the radio band all day just waiting for something exciting to happen. At least that criminal wasn't coming anywhere near her. She had a small cabin up near Morris Lake which was at least fifty miles from the northern border to Williamsburg County. Diane sighed as she turned into her winding driveway.
The sun was just starting to set when she finished her dinner in her small kitchen nook. The windows overlooked the lake which seemed to spread out into infinity, where it burned into the sun which sank lower, merging and then sizzling below the waves. After she washed the dishes, Diane decided to take a walk out near the lake in the cool autumn air. After pulling on a thin white jacket, she headed out into the midst of the trees.
The leaves seemed to mirror the shades of the sky, burning a bright yellow, and then a deeper crimson. She paused when something crunched behind her. Spinning around, she listened for another sound, but after a moment, all she could hear was the birds chirping and then suddenly, her senses began to prickle. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she held her breath, but there was still nothing. Then, there was too much. An arm circled her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. She started to scream, but something cold was pressed against her neck and she swallowed the sound. "Don't move or I'll kill you," a rough voice rasped in her ear, making goose bumps rise on her arms.
"Wha-what do you want?" she asked softly, her voice catching in her throat.
"Now ma'am, you don't get fidgety, I just need a bit o' help that's all. Now you just turn on back around and we'll head on back to that nice ol' cabin of yours."
He spun her around and she got her first look at the man. He was actually somewhat attractive for a criminal. His light brown hair hung in his face, brushing the thin wire framed glasses. The thing that drew her eye though, was the police issue gun he held pointed at her.
"Who are you?"
He looked at her with consideration for a moment and smirked. "The name's John Shooter," he kicked a leaf on the ground and then motioned with the gun. For a split second, she was terrified that it was going to go off on accident.
She turned her back on him slowly, praying that he wouldn't shoot her in the back, and with leaves crunching underfoot, she started back towards home.