Freewrite #4
Today
The clouds started to part. It had stopped raining. White moonlight shined through, reflecting off of the wet, oily street.
Jack ran down the street., not sure of where he was going. He only knew that must not go with that man, John Fischer, whom he had spoken with almost 3 minutes ago.
Something about the man's voice didn't sit right with Jack.
And what about the man he had punched? He seemed familiar, though Jack didn't know why.
Jack didn't even know if his name really was Jack. It was just a name on a wristband. Jack Fletcher, #431.
The sun would be up in a few hours. He had to get out of sight. A near barefoot man wearing all white would stand out like a sore thumb here.
Speaking of which, where was “here” exactly?
A car could be heard in the distance, gaining on Jack.It was the doctor.
Jack ran hard. The black Honda's headlights were 300 yards away, and gaining. It would only be a couple of seconds now.
Shots rang out. Jack dove to the ground, , not knowing whether this would be a leap towards heaven or a fall to hell. He expected the latter.
Bullets whizzed by on his left and right. The headlights went out.
The bullets stopped.
Jack heard a car reverse and head in the opposite direction. It was the Honda!
Jack had survived!
Jack stood up, white clothes stained black by the wet asphalt. His socks had several new holes in them and his feet had developed a few blisters. Still, he lived! And the car was gone which meant Jack could relax for a moment.
Then Jack remembered what had just happened, why the car had left.
That's when several men emerged from the two alleys ahead where the bullets had flown from.
They closed in on Jack.
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