49 Hours, 38 minutes and 27 seconds. That is how long I have been running for. I had been preparing to leave ever since our numbers reached below fifteen. When it was my face they were nailing on the board, I began my departure from Killtona 500. The first 24 hours were the worst; everyone was looking for me. They came to my house first, seconds after the poster was up. They were armed with everything from your usual pitchforks to a sledgehammer. They hadn't planned to use the sledgehammer to knock my door down, they had home-made explosives that. I didn't want to know what they were going to do with me. I would never know anyway for I had left thirty-five minutes before they came. I was safe on the opposite block, looking into my apartment. After the ammunition started to go off, I had set the oven to thirty-five minutes, I left the roof and made my way towards the town exit.
It had been a difficult journey to say the least. Even though there were only nine of them looking, they had made it hell to try and escape. They weren't taking any risks, I could tell when they turned on every light in the town and even then were attaching flashlights to their arms and head. Speed and stealth had been the key to escape; without speed I wouldn?t have been able to reach the town edge in two days, and without stealth I would have been caught by the townsfolk and met a grizzly end.
At the start of the second day, Killtona turned into a ghost town. No one was out in the streets looking anymore, they had all disappeared. I even looked inside a few buildings to check for other residents but found no one. The sudden emptiness was scarier than the prospect of my flesh and bone meeting their steel and rage. It was far more comfortable knowing where they were, and I felt more confident one step-ahead. I went through a thousand theories as to what had happened. The crazier ones involved a Langolier type scenario where I was trapped in the past. Regardless of why they were gone, I vowed not to let it hinder my escape. People or no people, I was going to escape.
And now I was here, at the edge of Killtona staring at the bridge that would get me out of this place, this
dystopia. I wondered why I had chosen to come here, what kind of thrill-seeking mood I was in that would convince me to come to the town with the world's highest mortality rate. I was a fool, I accepted that but I was rectifying my mistake and learning from it. The moral of the story is, don't go to the town with the world's highest mortality rate.
I checked both sides of the street. For a road only five metres long, it felt like miles. This final walk would ensure my escape, yet why was I hesistating? It had been too easy after the first day, far too easy. I felt like I was going from one hell to a bigger one. I would be paranoid after I leave, suspicious of everyone I meet. I wouldn't be able to go back to society, not in my crazed state. Maybe that was what they were trying to achieve, execution by self. Clever bastards, clever indeed. If that was their objective, leaving would be pointless. In fact, going back to the town and making them execute me would foil their plan. Or maybe that was their plan. Maybe they were trying to stall me, and if they were that had meant they had already won. I wouldn't give up as long as I was still breathing. And so, with stealth and speed in mind, I ran like hell across. I reached the bridge and kept running, running as if there was no tomorrow. I turned my head and gave Killtona one last look.
"I'm free baby! I'm fr-"
***
"He's reached the bridge,"
"I can see that,"
"Aren't you going to stop him?"
"Don't worry, he won't make it out,"
"How can you be so sure?"
"Just watch,"
"Aaaaah I see. That's one hell of a risk though"
"Got to keep the theme,"
"Fair enough,"
"Thirty-five is the magic number my friend, thirty-five."