Limping, trudging, one foot squelching in mud, one foot juddering on tarmac, both splashing and surging through hard-bottomed water, wandering, veering, dragging Lungs ache Breathe in hard, and the drops ride on the inrushing air, trickling around your lips, cold pinpricks on your tongue. Through the cold and wet and noise and aching exhaustion you can sense him out there, pursuing you.
Legs keep trudging vacuous inertia dragging at the drained muscles.
There on the left. A track, a farm. A small twist of hope and relief draws out the last trickle of energy, fuelling your legs to carry you down the narrow track to the farmyard. There is a long pause before a sliver of light flicks through the gap under the door, reflecting on the rubber mat at your feet. The sound of a bolt sliding back and a chain-rattle.