No, no, God no, this can't be real. This can't be. He is a murderer. I close the trunk of his car and look around to see if he is coming back. I can't breathe; my mind is completely blank, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.
The night air is ghostly quiet; the silence is so absolute that I can hear my racing heart beat in my ears. I need to think. I need to calm down. What should I do? Should I call the police? I fumble with the car door and open it to look for my phone. I got it; it barely has any battery left. I dial 911.
"Hello, I need help, I am at a gas station, and I found a dead body in the trunk of the taxi I was in. The driver's gone to the restroom. I think he is going to kill me too," I tell the recipient really fast.
"Mam, calm down. Tell us where you are?" asks the woman on the other end of the phone.
"I don't know. I was on my way to Stanford University."
"Mam, is there anyone nearby? What about the gas station? Is there anyone in the shop?"
"I don't know; I don't see anyone, but the lights are on."
"Ok, is there anything you can arm yourself with?"
"There are guns on the car's dashboard."
"Ok, take one and go to the shop, see if you can find someone and ask them to tell us your location. Also, can you tell us the car's number?"
"Yes, it's 18203." I take one of the guns from the dashboard, close the door, and run towards the shop. I get in through the glass door and ring the bell at the counter.
"Hello, is anyone here? I need help," I ask loudly, and my voice echoes through the shop. No one answers. I walk through the shelves to look for someone. As I am about to turn a corner, my heart stops, and a scream is about to escape my mouth, which I cover tightly with both hands.
A man is lying dead on the floor, and blood is pouring out of his head through a bullet hole. The driver is standing with his back to me. He is grabbing the man's legs, trying to drag him away. I need to get out of here before he sees me.
I back away from the shelves and try to make my way back to the door as quietly as I can. Just then I accidentally bump into a shelf, knocking a few cans, which bang loudly as they fall on the ground. The driver looks up and our eyes meet. Oh God, I am so dead!
I run as fast as I can without looking back. Behind me, I can hear racing footsteps. "Stop right there," I hear the driver shout. I reach the gate and am about to pull it open when it shatters due to the bullet he fired. I scream loudly as glass falls to the ground.
I run towards the forest; the door handle is still in my hand, and I drop it on the ground as I reach the forest. I can hear him shouting behind me, and it makes me run even faster through the trees whose branches are cutting my skin.
Oh God, oh God, he saw me, he's coming after me, he's going to kill me. No, this is not the time to panic or I will get killed. I need to clear my mind, I need to think rationally. I might be alone, but that is ok. I have a gun I took from the car's dashboard, even though I've never used one, or think I have the strength or courage to kill or even shoot someone in real life. But still, if worse comes to worst, I will have to figure out a way to defend myself.
What am I saying? I can't shoot someone, even if they are a killer. I think to myself as I run faster. I try to think of other ways; I can't keep running forever; I will run out of strength. As I realize this, I try my best to dodge the bushes and trees. I am natural at hiking; I can avoid making noise if I scan the surrounding before I move. It is dark anyway, so I can use that as my advantage. I don't have to outrun him; I just have to make sure he doesn't find me before the police arrive. I put my phone in my coat's secret pocket. I didn't turn off the call so the police can track me here, and since they already heard the gunshot, they will try their best to come as quickly as they can, and he doesn't know I called them. That's right. I don't need to fight anyone. I just have to stall for time. I will not die here.
There is a clearing up ahead. Bad move. I can't stay in the open. If I did, he will capture or outsmart me. He might be a pathetic excuse of a human being, but he has experience. I can't let my guard down even for a moment. I need to come up with a plan, and fast. But how? I look around and ask myself, what can I use to my advantage? I see it—trees. I need to get on top of one where it is thick, where he can't see me, but I can see him even from a mile away. And if he does see me, he can't shoot, no matter how good he is at shooting. But if he climbs, then what? I ask myself, and as I see the answer clear as day, I smile to myself.
I wait patiently; he is coming closer, closer. My heart is hammering so fast, it is miraculous the sound isn't echoing in the night. Will I be able to pull this off? No, no time for doubt. I have to pull it off. It's literally do or die. No do-overs. But I have to make sure that this is self-defense, not an outright lashing out and killing him—just beat him so badly he can't hurt me. God, that sounds so wrong, even in my head. What is wrong with me? Was I always this psycho? And I answer myself in a taunting voice, "You think?" I roll my eyes and wait with bated breath.
I see the grip of the gun in my hand more steadily; my fingers are trembling. I need to make sure I don't pull the trigger accidentally in fear. I can't waste bullets. They are 4 rounds, and I already loaded the gun. I was worried at first, but it was easier than I thought. After all, I didn't watch action movies and video games for a reason. And as for my aim, well, at this distance, it will be a problem. I need him to come close. I grab a branch and rustle it as hard as I can. I need to draw his attention without him doubting it was intentional. He needs to think I am helpless and at his mercy. I need to let him think he won.
He is getting closer, closer. He steps out into the clearing ahead. He is in sight, but that near won't be enough. I turn to look in the direction of the gas station. I can go back, turn around; the police will be here by then, and he will be taken into custody. I will be safe. I don't have to do this. I think to myself, but...
"Come out, darling!" he shouts. "Come out! Come and play."
"You can't run forever," "You can't hide forever."
"If you come to me willingly, I promise I will be gentle. I might even be merciful. You wouldn't even feel pain."
"There is no one coming, you hear me? NO one!" he shouts to the night.
God, this damn bastard.
An insect like him doesn't deserve to live. If I don't go with the plan, he might be able to run free. If it's me today, tomorrow it will be someone else, and they might not be as lucky as me."
I try getting down, stepping on a weak twig. It breaks, making a loud sound in the silence. I don't fall, but...
"There you are!" he sees me and runs toward the tree and starts climbing. I climb even higher. He follows me, his hands reaching for my legs. "Ahhh!" he grabs it, pulling me down. I kick him hard in the face.
"You bitch, you are so dead!" he spits at me and starts climbing even faster, and so do I. The tree is about to end, the wind is howling at this height, and I can see the gas station clearly. I hear the police siren in the distance; they are here. I just have to wait a little longer.
His breath is hot against my heels as I climb higher, but I keep my focus. Every time his hand grazes my ankle, I push harder, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins, drowning out the pain of my muscles screaming for relief. The tree is swaying in the wind, and for a moment, I feel like I could fall, but I refuse to let that fear take hold.
He's faster, though, and I can see him getting closer. His hands are trembling with anger as they reach for me again, but this time, I've got something else planned. I move sideways along the branch, just out of reach, and with all the strength I have left, I swing down and slam my foot into his chest.
"Fuck!" he roars, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He loses his grip and drops a few feet before managing to catch himself, but he's thrown off balance. He's pissed now, scrambling, desperate.
"You're a monster," I spit, my voice hoarse. "But you're not getting me."
The sirens are louder now. Closer. He must know it too. I can see the panic creeping into his eyes—he's not as calm as he wants to be.
I brace myself, my legs shaking from the climb. One more move. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as I wait for him to come back up. This is it.
His hand reaches for me again, but this time, I'm ready. I grab the branch above me and swing down, using all my weight to kick him in the chest one more time.
He yelps as his grip falters, and I hear the satisfying thud of him hitting the ground below. I can't help but let out a shaky breath of relief.
"Stay down, you bastard," I whisper to myself, the words coming out with a ragged edge.
I hear the sirens now. They're here. The bastard's game is over.
To be continued..... The chase hasn't ended yet!