You run out of the field and leap a rusted out barb wire fence like a deer. You cross a litter strewn deep ditch and across a two lane black top road. You stop and rest behind a bank. Drawing air in long gasping gulps. You hear three quick gun shots in the distance. Someone trying to start a cranking car on the other side of this small town. The street lights are dim and out dated here. They cast long moody shadows and keep walkers dim to oncoming cars.