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The Fugitive

He ran, he ran until he tasted bile at the back of his throat, he ran until his veins pumped lactic acid, he ran just to live a little longer.

The baying mob of men and women chased him through the darkened streets of the Hive and into and out of the unlit alley ways, all the time shouting and hounding their quarry with words like justice!, murderer! and scum! as they pounded the pavement after him.

Why they chased him he did not know, only that to stop and reason with them would be death.

He began to tire as the adrenalin that had fuelled his flight thus far began to ebb and fade as his body began to protest at the demands that he had already put it through. His steps became shorter and his breath laboured and true fear and terror started to set in.

He knew that time was short, and he pushed his body to the maximum in a last desperate bid to escape his pursuers who had chased him for what seemed like an eternity, and ducked into the nearest side street that he thought would hold his salvation when he had put a corner between himself and the baying mob with faces twisted with hate.

He ran a short distance down what turned out to be a dingy rubbish choked alley and slipped into the shadows trying to control his breathing but panting hard as he hid behind a grubby overflowing waste bin. He heard the rush of soled feet race by the entrance to his hideout and the sounds recede into the night and breathed a sigh of relief as the last one passed by.

It was short lived, he heard a shout in the near distance and foot falls could be heard coming back up the street as the mob had realised their prey had gone to ground close by and doubled back to root out the fugitive from his bolt hole.

He fearfully poked his head round the bin in time to see one, then two large imposing figures appear at the top of the entrance, and call for the rest of the mob once they're keen eyes had spotted his head sticking round the waste bin in the gloom.

He began to hyperventilate with terror and franticly scanned the alley way in hope of a open window or doorway to use as an escape route, but found none as it dawned on him he was in a dead end and all hope fled from his body sapping his strength to resist the hands that eagerly grabbed him.

Fists, feet and makeshift clubs rained down onto his body and he felt his bones fracture and break under brutal beating. They spat on him and shouted out ridicule and scorn even as they beat him, someone jabbed something sharp into his left eye and he felt it burst and the fluid inside leak down his battered face, but he could still see their blood flecked faces and clothes and all he could do was lay there and helplessly watch from inside his broken and rent body. He stayed conscious through another five minutes of intense pain and suffering, until mercifully he blacked out from the multiple injures, slipped into a coma and died.

Eventually the mob realised that he had stopped moving, or even breathing, and with their blood lust quenched they finally stopped the fatal beating. No longer a mob they begun to drift away from the gruesome scene in ones, twos and threes, some disgusted with what they had done while others beamed with twisted pride in their accomplishment, until there was only two men let standing over the barely recognisable human being in the puddle of blood, urine and gak at their feet.

"Do you think he was the one?" Asked the smaller of the two.

"I'm sure of it" Replied the other confidently as he swung his boot in for a final dig to the mangled face.

"Should we not at least inform the patrol to come and pick up the body?" As if trying to justify what they had done.

"Let him rot, let the rats feast on his flesh, I care not...Besides let the God-Emperor judge his soul worthy of redemption" And strode off into the night with his accomplice in tow.

Is it that bad that no one want's to leave a comment All post are welcome I don't bite, honest.

Jeez, that was dark.

Very well written, themanwiththeplan.

Thanks LoneLictor

My god even I think this was grim! Well done

High praise indeed, cheers Trondheim