Jinxed
Chapter 2: Freedom
By Garnet xoxo
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin.
Warnings: None in this chapter, although this story will eventually live up to its M rating.
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"Shit," he muttered breathlessly, sprinting through the trees as a helicopter thundered overhead. They had finally noticed his disappearance, no doubt, and he knew they would search persistently.
He ran as fast as his slender, yet muscular legs would carry him, the sound of his harsh breathing drowned out by the noisy aircraft. The thorny branches of an unknown plant scraped across his arms, marring the pallid skin there, but he hardly registered the pain. Adrenaline rushed through his veins like wildfire and his heart pounded so violently that he fully expected it to explode from his chest at any moment.
He continued running, dodging, jumping, never allowing himself to rest. It did not matter how much his throat burned or how much his feet ached from slamming into the solid ground so consistently. He forced himself to ignore the agony that gripped his agile body; he knew it was merely temporary compared to the sentence he would be required to endure otherwise. He would not be captured. Not again.
To help distract himself from the nagging pain, he speculated. He wondered about the news coverage and how many people feared for their survival at this very moment. He wondered how many lies the media was spouting off about his past rampages; he wondered if they were blaming him for the deaths of innocent women and children again. He had heard the dishonesty, witnessed it for years on the substandard TV that the inmates had been allowed to watch once each week, and it infuriated him. He had eventually forbidden himself from paying any attention to the false reports.
Abruptly, he halted and cocked his head to one side. The sound of the helicopter overhead was dissipating and apparently the search had veered off in another direction. He tensed for a few moments, waiting and watching in order to confirm his guess. The noise fell softly upon his ears, distant, and he immediately bent over at the waist and grasped his knees. Fatigue gripped him mercilessly and for the moment, he could do nothing but gulp air as greedily as his lungs would allow.
After a few minutes he recovered and stood, straightening. Now that the world had ceased moving at an outrageous speed and the helicopter no longer loomed above, he focused on his surroundings. He had typically been at home in the dark and tonight it was even more advantageous. Shadows enveloped his lone form and the only rays of light, which were provided by the full white moon, were mostly obscured by gnarled branches. He was already difficult to sense by sound and now he would be nearly impossible to detect visually... If it wasn't for the damned orange jumpsuit that he was stuck in for the time being, anyway. Once more he thanked the gods that he had been able to flee at nighttime instead of daybreak.
For now he was still enclosed by a seemingly endless sea of tall trees and unkempt shrubs, but he knew he could not be far from town at this point. He had traveled a considerable distance in little time, and, relying on his ears again, he could swear that he heard the distinct sound of speeding traffic.
He stepped forward vigilantly. Just because the helicopter had resumed its hunt in another area did not confirm that that was the case with every search method. For all he knew, there was a band of armed officers flanking him this instant. Either that or they were half a mile ahead of him, watching and waiting for him to make the wrong move. He could not afford to make the mistake that he knew they were anticipating.
So he ran, softly, as soundless as an agile predator skulking ever closer to its prey. Although this time, for once, there was no victim in his sight. His eventual goal was simply freedom; unfortunately, he did not even know what freedom looked like. There was nothing to do but run until he found it somehow.
And find it he did, or at least something relatively close to it. The moonlight unexpectedly streamed through the trees, briefly stunning him and revealing a limitless world beyond the forest. He contemplated his next move while his eyes adjusted to accept the soft illumination. It seemed like an eternity ago when he had last had the opportunity to relish in the simple feeling of the cool evening breeze. Where most took it for granted, for him this moment was inconceivable.
Inhaling deeply, he stepped toward the edge of the forest, where trees and shrubbery were sparse. Before him, a mile or so away, was a busy road just like he had imagined. Cars and trucks whizzed back and forth, red and white lights flickering in the darkness. Several well-lit buildings lined the street but from this distance, he could not discern their purpose. He knew they were not homes, at least not conventional ones, because of their extensive height; he guessed they were hotels.
Now he had to make a rather rash decision. He could either venture toward the unknown buildings by the road, which would be very risky considering that he might be recognized, or rough it in the woods until another option presented itself. In that moment he realized that he really did not have a plan. At all.
But also in that moment, his choice was made for him. Harsh, whispering voices and crunching footsteps sounded behind him, traveling to his ears from within the depths of the forest. A frigid chill crawled down his spine at an agonizingly slow pace as he listened to the footfalls growing closer and closer still.
So he ran, again, into the belly of darkness. Damp blades of grass swished across his jumpsuit-clad legs as he sprinted, concentrating on the land before him in hopes of avoiding any possible hazards--a branch here, a stone there, a shallow hole in the earth. Wind whipped through his long tresses and screamed in his ears as he desperately tore across the landscape and before he knew it, he was only yards away from the buildings he had spotted earlier. Now he could see that they were actually apartment complexes and not hotels like he had originally thought.
He dared to stop, turn, and gaze into the gloom he had emerged from. Failing to see any threat and not sensing that the owners of the voices and footsteps had followed him, he trudged onward. He knew without a doubt that they would be heading this way eventually and he did not plan on being here when they did. But that did not solve the problem; he still had nowhere to go and was unsure of an effective place to conceal himself.
Yet again, his choice was made for him as flashlight beams appeared in the distance. He moved. His legs carried him, forcing him along, although he himself had no idea where he was going. He just ran and before his mind could register his actions, he was scaling the back side of the nearest apartment building. He managed to locate adequate hand and footholds--windows, decorative accents, cracks in the walls--to aid in his ascension, and finally, hoisted himself up onto a small outdoor balcony. He instantly pressed himself to a wall, ducking out of sight, and listened. Voices were audible on the stairwell that led to his balcony.
He held his breath and forced his eyes shut in an attempt to calm his racing heart as he hesitated, striving to think clearly. There was a door to his left that led directly inside the building, presumably opening straight into the third floor hallway. Evidently it was his only option at this point as he could hear the voices growing closer, so he exhaled slowly and gently pushed the door open, glancing inside hastily. He blanched as his eyes met the back of a man's head who was standing about fifteen feet away from the doorway. Quietly, quietly, quietly, he chanted in his head.
The stranger turned around just as the escapee finished slipping inside. Apparently it took the middle-aged man's mind a moment to register the orange prison jumpsuit because he suddenly paled and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"Help!" He shouted and ran in the opposite direction, flailing his arms. He opened the door to the nearest stairwell and disappeared.
The escaped convict simply remained rooted in his spot for a fleeting second, paralyzed, before realizing that cops would be flooding this place within minutes. And there he was, standing around in tell-tale orange, with his cross-shaped scar, red hair, and all. Oro...
He bolted...
Dead end.
And then there were what sounded like several pairs of feet clattering up the stairwell instead of down, and he knew he was screwed, he knew.
Unless...
He reached for the doorknob just outside of his grasp, the door that said "#301" and hoped. He had never hoped so hard in his life, and maybe he hoped too hard, because the door opened with such force that it swung open and slammed into the adjoining wall.
Lavender met sapphire.
And he wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was what freedom looked like.
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Author's Note: I don't know why I wrote the next chapter already. 2 chapters in 24 hours... I guess I'm pretty into this story so far and it's just flowing so easily... And thank you, my 2 reviewers! LOL. Hopefully I get at least a few more comments for this chapter.
Meguhanu: Well here was more for you! Hope you enjoyed it.
SzaharaTheSame: Thank you! I'm glad you like it so far.