Andrew Gross - 15 Seconds

Suddenly one of them looked our way. He saw us! He put his hand over his eyes to shield the sun. I saw him motion to one of his partners.

“Henry, just go!”

Iran.

Actually, I started to back away at first, across the green, hoping not to draw any attention. I kept one eye on the policeman who was staring at me, no doubt starting to realize that Carrie and I fit the description he’d been given. My other eye was on Carrie, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I had to run away. I’d only known her, really, for a day, but having to take off, so suddenly, after everything she’d done for me, was tearing at my heart.

Then suddenly the cop called to his partner and took a couple of steps in our direction, and I bolted across the green. Behind me I heard one of them shout: “Hold it there!”

The street was heading toward the main road out of the town, mostly fenced-in yards and old Southern homes, and I didn’t see any cover, other than weaving in and out of people’s yards, hiding, until I was ultimately caught. I ran onto a small bridge that crossed a river leading into town and peered over the edge, hearing shouts behind me. The small, narrow river ran parallel to Main Street.

I took a quick glance back at the officers, who had now set off after me, Carrie going up to them, and leaped over the stone ledge onto the embankment, slipping on the dry, loose dirt and sliding down the edge, about twenty feet down. I landed on the rocks of the riverbed there, which was more like a narrow stream.

This was insane! I was running from the police all over again. They didn’t know anything about Vance Hofer or Bud’s Guns. All they knew was that they had a wanted murder suspect here. In their little town.

They could very well start shooting at me!

I looked back up to the bridge and didn’t see anyone, but I knew that was only a matter of seconds. The word had probably already gone out to every cop within two townships! I didn’t have a clue where to run or how to get out of here. Not just out of this riverbed, but out of town. Out of the area! All I could think of was that if I got caught, in this Podunk place-the famous plastic-surgeon murderer!-there would be no containing it. They’d be crowing to every news station in the country! And even worse, Hallie would be at the mercy of that monster.

I couldn’t even let my brain wander there!

The river cut behind the main street and I knew, if I kept along the rocks, I’d be in full view and they’d track me down in minutes. It must’ve been a dry spring here because the river seemed more of a stream and offered no protection.

I saw a giant, iron spill pipe along the bank, maybe six feet tall and rusted-it seemed to open directly under the bridge. I wasn’t sure where it led-only away, and that was okay with me. In about ten seconds cops were going to be all over me. I pawed my way down to it, scrabbled over the rocks, and made it to the opening in the pipe under the cover of the bridge, and ducked. The opening was large, about two inches shorter than I was, at six-two, and I quickly found myself in the cool, dark, iron-smelling cavern just as the two cops who were pursuing me must’ve gotten to the bridge and peered over.

I heard shouting above me.

It was dark, clammy, and creepily cool in here. I had no idea how far it led or where to. There must be a bend somewhere. I couldn’t see an opening at the other end. It was at least a quarter mile. There was a layer of filmy water on the bottom; my moccasins were soaked, not exactly cut out for this kind of thing. I went along in a crouch, a hand on each side of the pipe, knowing that in a couple of minutes the cops would make their way behind me, and praying, my heart ricocheting against my ribs, that there wouldn’t be a party to meet me at the other end, complete with dogs and brandishing rifles.

I tried not to imagine the kinds of creepy things that called this place home: spiders, leeches, even rats… “Oh God, Henry, how have you found yourself into this fucking mess?” I said, my words echoing against the sides, which were rusted and slick with moss, and metallic smelling.

I was about a hundred yards in when I spotted the light of an opening at the other end. I didn’t know if I felt lifted or afraid. I just knew I had to make it there before the cops crawled in after me or radioed in reinforcements.

Okay… As the light grew larger I racked my brain for what to do. The thought flashed through me that I could climb out of this tunnel and duck into the woods for a while. Maybe I could call Carrie and she’d be able to find me… Then I thought, Henry, who are you kidding? They’ll be all over here, and you’re not exactly an outdoorsman. Liz always joked how I’d be voted off Survivor before the first commercial…

And there was still Hallie. If I was apprehended, it would be a death warrant for her.

The sad truth began to sink in that, sooner rather than later, I’d be caught. I’d be kept in jail in this stupid town until I could be handed over to the Jacksonville police. No one was going to listen to me; they would only believe I’d concocted this story to save my own skin. By the time they found out that I was telling the truth, Hallie would be dead.

Hofer was going to win.

No, no… You’re not going to let him win, Henry… You’re going to find a way out of this and get to Hallie… Do you fucking hear?

A voice echoed behind me and I spun. The bright circle at the entrance had disappeared and someone was screaming, “ Police! Steadman! Whoever you are, get down on the ground! There’s no way out!”

His words reverberated against the walls.

In front of me the opening looked about fifty yards ahead.

I didn’t know if they would shoot. They still weren’t a hundred percent sure who I even was. But these small-town cops might well be itching to pull a trigger. I crouched lower and picked up the pace, the opening in front of me growing larger. And then I could see rocks straight ahead, where the pipe met the river, and my heart picked up and I even heard the sound of rushing water.

I heard someone yell, “Shit,” maybe a hundred yards behind me. It might have been the heavy one, taking a tumble in the murky water. Meanwhile, my feet were cold and soaked, and the opening was in front of me. I had finally made it to the end.

Cautiously, I stuck my head out, and to my joy, I heard nothing-no shouts to get down on the ground! No dogs barking. No sign of police. The river wound its way behind the main street, and I could see the backs of shops up on the hill above me. I heard the sound of water picking up speed. I climbed out of the pipe and onto the slick rocks and looked down.

I was on a kind of elevated levee, a makeshift dam with a fifteen- to twenty-foot drop-off to the level below. The town was directly above me, an easy climb back up the rocks. But there were cops up there to contend with. I scurried along the shore, slipping on the slick, wet rocks, until I got close to the edge. I straddled the dam along the embankment, spray rushing up at me, hitting me in the face. I noticed two anglers a couple of hundred yards down the stream, their lines in the water.

I couldn’t get across here.

I could jump. I looked over the edge. The rocks were larger and jagged below. But I could do it! I could let the river take me. But where? I thought of the movie The Fugitive . Harrison Ford had jumped. From a much higher and more dangerous height than this. Into the swirling spray. And the river had taken him. But that was Hollywood. These fishermen would only point out my escape. Assuming the police didn’t witness it themselves. They were only a short way behind.