Remy rolled down the car windows to stay awake. He’d been driving lost in the dark on a road about five miles east of the Pacific Ocean—or maybe it was ten miles, he no longer knew. His cell phone registered “no service” and the gas gauge was down to one bar. He was near panic when red taillights appeared about 100 feet ahead, but his sigh of relief was shattered by an explosion. He slammed on the brakes, his heart pounding on the steering wheel.
He got out and ran towards the flames until the heat stopped him. After the fire subsided, he inspected the vehicle’s remains with a flashlight–no charred bodies.
Suddenly he heard an engine. Someone was driving his car. He ran towards the headlights but was almost run over—he saw a large man laughing.
He listened to the echo of the car’s engine get fainter and fainter until all he heard was the nearby creaking of hot metal.
Remy was thankful he had on his running shoes and for the moonlight that enabled him to see the road in the direction his car had gone. His stride was effortless and fast. At the top of a hill he saw flashing red lights below. A few minutes of jogging took him to his stolen car parked in front of a police sedan. An officer was handcuffing a man. Suddenly, the officer turned towards Remy, gun drawn. The runner raised his arms, but in the darkness, the officer thought otherwise and fired. He missed.