Hector sprinted through the bushes at top speed. His well-built legs leapt deftly over rocks and roots as he zipped past the stunted trees a half-mile from the compound. He didn’t know where he was going- except downhill. The distraction had worked- Dante’s ‘accident’ gave Hector just enough time to pack his bag once again and hop in his truck.

My truck. Hector inwardly sighed. The faithful Land Cruiser had met a sad fate as he had pushed it to its limit down the gravelly slopes. Mud from yesterday’s rain had sucked at the tires and Hector just didn’t have time to get it unstuck. Everything is moving so quickly, Hector thought. Too quickly. I just got to what should have been a safe place and now I have Flores AND the police to deal with. What a week. Hector found it hard to believe that only three days had passed since the once eagerly-anticipated party at the mansion. I won’t forget that day anytime soon, Hector said to himself ironically.

Suddenly, he heard a BOOM from behind and something snapped by four feet to his right, kicking up bits of rock and dirt.

Flores had arrived.

The bullets didn’t stop. Another BOOM and a nearby sapling splintered. A third bullet ricocheted dangerously off of a large boulder to his left. Hector hopped at full speed over a rotting log as he approached the treeline. If I can make it to the forest, I’ll have a chance… The rifle from above sounded its death sentence yet again and Hector felt the hot iron of the FMJ round graze his forearm as he ran. They’re getting more accurate! No, no, no, no… I HAVE to get to the trees! Dust flew up in his wake as Hector sprinted towards the treeline. Suddenly the steel hail slowed and a motor, far behind on the incline, roared to life. Hector didn’t need to turn around to recognize the sound of a Jeep crashing through the underbrush towards him. The noise of gunfire increased its tempo yet again, like the savage beats of a drum by some cruel cannibal tribe. Yet the Jeep’s gunner quickly discovered what many would-be guerrilla fighters had discovered before him- it’s hard to aim heavy weapons correctly while hurtling down an obstacle-laden mountain in a springy off-road vehicle. The bullets passed harmlessly overhead of Hector as he passed the first tall Chihuahuan pines. The density of the forest rapidly increased and soon Hector was forced to slow down.

When he had passed roughly 300 yards into the forest, Hector crouched and peeked out behind a tall fir tree. The Jeep was still going, trying to maneuver through the stunted trees at the beginning of the wood. As Hector silently observed the truck, three armed men clambered out and advanced cautiously into the closer forest. Hector unslung the small Arctic Warfare compact rifle from his back and peered through its scope. Flores himself was nowhere to be seen, but Hector didn’t doubt that he was probably nearby. Even as the thought hit him, a second Jeep, this one clad in thick black armor, Humvee-style, rumbled over the hilltop far away and started the rough journey to meet up with the first vehicle.

Drat. He must be in there. Hector was dismayed, to say the least- a single man against who knew how many hunters was not an ideal situation. Briefly, the idea to snipe the three nearest hunters crossed his mind, but Hector turned it down after a little thought. I’d probably only be able to shoot one of them before the others hid, and it’d reveal my position… Hector had never been in a manhunt before, and now that he was really in danger, he didn’t think it was as fun as he had once imagined it might be. It’s hide-and-seek, but only one person is hiding, and if you get found, you’ll either die or be taken prisoner, and no one wants to be a prisoner of Flores… Hector had heard of the drug-lord’s cruel and unusual treatment of his captive enemies. And now I’m his enemy- let’s just hope I don’t become the captive part. Or the dead part, for that matter.

The three men were still only a few yards into the thicker forest, but it was too close for comfort. Hector could make out more detail from behind his rifle’s scope. One, a bulky and rather short man, Hector recognized as the arms dealer who had let him into the compound. What was his name? Torres? Yeah, that was it. The other two were new to Hector, but he had been aware of more cars in the parking lot of the compound before he escaped- which meant more men on the run from the law. Both of the men were tall, broad, and made a comical contrast to the stout Torres. They both had deep brown hair, wore black sunglasses, and black tactical outfits, and were definitely not Hispanic. They look like… twins. All three were clutching hefty wood-stocked hunting rifles and had various sidearms at their belts.

Hector watched the men sweep the area and move further into the woods. Both Jeeps were now struggling forward into the more dense brush. This is probably a good time to get away, Hector thought. I could try and sneak back to the compound, but I’m sure they have it guarded… In ten seconds his mind was made up. For a couple of miles he carefully crept into the darker recesses of the forest, downhill yet again. It was slow going, but eventually the noise of the Jeeps’ engines faded to a dull moan and Hector had left the hunters far behind. Hopefully. Hector half-stood and moved at a quicker pace towards a steep ravine below.

Upon reaching the ravine, Hector rested and listened. Nothing could be heard save his nervous breathing, the quick thump of his heart, and the quiet burbling of a stream formed by the ravine.

For the time being, he was safe.