Day 216 – The Passenger – Part 8

Written in 16 minutes!

Word count: 564

They were running. Hand in hand running through the field, the grain stinging their faces as they flailed passed. Someone was hunting them. They needed to escape. Kate secretly wished it was the police; her husband; anyone that had heard of her plight. The man kept pulling her onwards, faster and faster: he did not want to be caught.
What had he done? Why was he running? What was he about to do?
Kate looked at the man she was holding hands with: that connection, the longest touch they had ever experienced. It was weird to be holding his hand: he was guarding her from danger, when he was surely taken her to it?
Suddenly, they stopped. Kate dug her heels into the earth and they came to an abrupt halt, a barrel of a gun staring down at them with beady eyes and an evil disposition.
“What you fools doin’ here? Get outta my farm!”
“Please put down the gun, sir,” The man begged.
“Trespassers! Trespassers! Papa I found them!”
Kate was disappointed for a split second. She had allowed herself to thoroughly believe that she was going to be rescued via helicopter, swat team, army, navy ships, the whole shebang – the CIA would get involved and maybe the UN would be able to bring this guy in. Some James Bond type character would come in and save her and scoop her up in his arms and maybe she could forget about her husband for the night and it would all be okay because she had gone through an ordeal. Then she realised that they were facing a family of redneck farmers who clearly had the upperhand.
“Listen, I know that we’re not technically allowed in your field, but we are lost tourists…”
“Papa quick, before them gets away!”
The man turned around at Kate and gave her a sarcastic smile and raised his eyebrows. Kate knew what he was on about. The man holding them with a shotgun was not the prettiest of chaps. He was large and rotund, a huge fiery ginger beard engulfed his face and his eyes did not seem to focus on the same place at once. There was something more in that smile that the man was trying to convey. Kate worked it out.
She stepped forward, unbuttoning her blouse a little.
“It’s mighty hot in here, we were just wanting to get some cool…” she fanned herself with her own hand and tried to be as sexual as she could possibly be at this moment in time. She felt semi-violated and semi-achieving something as the redneck’s eyes (at least one of them anyway) turned towards her bosom and less on the gun.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any…. Water…?” Kate initiated eye batting.
“I uh uh I don’t think I’m…”
“Please, I’m so, so hot…”
The man swooped in, slapped the shotgun in the redneck’s face, tripped him over backwards and punched him in the nose. He tossed the gun to Kate – Kate grabbed and looked confused.
“Take it and run!”
As they ran – Kate shotgun laden – they could hear the rest of the redneck family chasing after them with their pitchforks and dogs. But it was soon that they reached the edge of the field and climbed over a gate onto a gravel lane. Civilisation, at least a bit of it anyway, had been attained.

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~ by S.G. Mark on May 10, 2012.

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