The path was coated in mud, making it difficult for him to run. He could hear the growling of their ATVs closing in on him from behind. He didn’t care if they caught him, just as long as he reached the control room under the tower first.
The door to the station creaked as she opened it. Illuminated by computer monitors, Silas was slumped over his keyboard, snoring. She flipped a switch and fluorescent lights crackled on.
The pursuing car must have seen him on the phone. Using its front bumper, it nudged his vehicle from the rear. “Look, Lance, I’m sorry I gave you a sore nose, but I’m about to die!”
The watch on his wrist beeped. He didn’t hear it, but he felt the tiny speaker’s subtle vibration. It was giving him a five minute warning—not that it mattered.
He longed for comforting words from someone. Anyone. As he clung to this forgotten road, the rows of corn were pointing him to a small church.