@seekingmockingbirds
As he ran through the thick of the fog Howard thought two things. One, he was going to throw his fail-of-a-motorbike through the window of the dammed guy who sold it to him. Two, if he was going to die, how would they ever find his body in this shit hole?
It didn't matter. All he knew how to do was run, and that was all he needed to know. But, Howard couldn't tell where he was going. The street seemed to appear only as he moved forward. Then, out of the fog came a large mass that screeched toward him. Howard saw the blue and red glow too late. The police vehicle braked hard, painting dark tire marks on the road and stopped right before Howard... right before Howard ran into it, bouncing off the hood of the car.
The siren whooped once.
Howard rolled over to his side, the shock of the impact hurting more than the impact itself. There was a slight ringing in his ears, but he couldn't afford to focus on that. Why were all these cops trying to kill him? He looked down to his shirt. The bloodied stain of what used to be a gunshot wound that one officer gave him reminded to run. Howard stumbled to his feet, not giving himself any time to see who, or what, came from the driver's seat.
When would he be able to stop running? The question seemed to answer itself, when Howard bumped into a figure. Howard, slipped backwards to prevent himself from running into it, but also in attempt to run in the other direction. But the rain was heavy and he slipped onto his backside.
This is it, he thought. I'm going to die here.
He locked his eyes on the figure's gun at her belt. He survived a shot from a police officer once. Life wasn't so forgiving. He was going to die.
