Runaway

• Bianca Ton, Grade 10, Hurlstone Agricultural High School
• Short Story
• 2012

Excellence Award in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

The scorching sun beat down onto the boiling road, pouring through the lone car that dragged itself sluggishly along its path. Dying shrubs and stumped trees surrounded the deserted road that snaked its way through the countryside. The humid air mingled with the musty smell of dirt and dust that awakened as the vehicle moved. There was no breeze; the immobile vegetation created an eerie tension that hung in the air.

Without warning, the car suddenly sputtered to a stop. A mutter of curses emanated from the driver’s seat. With a click, the door swung open, nearly falling off its hinges. A small young woman emerged from the car, her dark hair matted to her forehead with sweat. Despite the heat, a full-length, elegant gown clung to her slim body, taunting her as she wiped away beads of sweat trickling down her neck. Her beady hazel eyes scanned her surroundings before resting on her horrid car.

“Worthless piece of junk,” she spat, kicking the front tire with resentment.

She spun around with a scoff, as if staring at the car for too long would send her into an endless tirade. Sighing, she began to weigh her options. Should she stay here until another car came along and ask for a ride? Or should she start walking so she wouldn’t waste any time? How long would it be before they started looking for her? Peeking back at the car behind her, a feeling of frustration overwhelmed her.

She froze. Somewhere in the distance, a very faint police siren could be heard. A surge of panic flowed through her veins. Gasping, she hurried back into the car and shut the door. Grasping her key, she plunged it into the ignition and turned it. The car wheezed for a few seconds before becoming silent again. Terror gripped her spine, sending shockwaves throughout her body. She tried the key again, but nothing happened.

“Please, damn it! Turn on!” she screeched between her teeth. Turning the key again, she held her breath as the sirens grew gradually louder by the minute. However, the car refused to wake up from its coma. Crying out in anger, she threw the door open and jumped out, grabbing what little luggage she had. Clumsily lifting up her skirt, she bolted down the road in the opposite direction, flinching as the dirt bit into her skin.

She was running away. They were coming to get her.