The Thrill of the Chase
By badlyhadley
- 523 reads
The Thrill Of The Chase
Sometimes the chase itself is more important than the reason we run,
and more important than being either fox or rabbit. In fact I was
rabbit today, and the foxes in pursuit were three big men. The scene
was the city, dark and cold and wet in a British winter's night not
long ago. And, if you need it to elucidate the story, the theme was
robbery.
I was running, I was frenzied. I had a wad of cash in my pocket, and a
nice new watch and I was not about to give either up easily to the men.
The street was dimly lit but the alley I turned left into was dimmer.
It was thin and about a hundred yards in length. Wet was the ground,
and running along the centre of the alleyway was a thin drain to
collect the rain water. It was hardly an adequate drainage system,
there was a stagnant smell in the air. Or maybe the smell was from the
black rubbish bags gathered along the walls. Many rats would have run a
similar path to mine, ripping open and stealing from the rubbish bags
as they went. As they clawed their way into them some of the soggy
rubbish would have spilled out, and rotting food would have been swept
slowly towards the drains by rain dripping from the walls. An
altogether unappealing scene, but Gods creatures passed through all the
same.
It was like I was running wild through a ravine. A small creek
sauntered along in the ravine, and many years it had run the same path,
cutting the ravine so deep. The walls rose on either side in big
opressive sheer cliffs. What waited at the top of these cliffs? I
wondered, who was watching me run? I felt all eyes were on me, though
it was dark and late, and all spectators were willing me to run as fast
as I could. They wanted to be me, in the chase. It was exciting.
I reached the end of the alley and ran out into the road. Slowly I
increased my angle to the right until I was running paralell with the
kerb. Enthusiastically I leapt up the kerb, as if it were four feet
from the ground. I could see that this road joined another further up
ahead, and that it was a busy junction. I dared to hope that I could
jump on a bus there, but there would be many other means of escape in
the busy city. In any case, I believed I could keep on running till the
sun came up, and then even longer. The wind rushed past above my ears,
lifting my hair a little as it went and I felt power. Like an aeroplane
just before it takes off. Powerful and determined and swift.
I turned round to see the men burst like a flock of birds from the
alley. Birds can fly faster than the lion can run, but can they can't
chase with half as much pride and fearless strength. One man checked
the road for moving vehicles or other signs of hazard. The other two
seemed blind and stupid, nearly tripping off the kerb. But all three
men were still hell-bent on catching up with me, I could see that. I
heard shouts, but couldn't decipher any more than a primitive grunt or
animal noise. Their hard boots stamped on the ground, something like a
tribal drumbeat. It incensed me to run faster still. There was awesome
strength in my legs that night!
Being in the relative openness of the road breathed new life into the
chase. We were running on an open prairie, under a bright full moon,
bright enough for us to cast deep shadows behind us. I liked to imagine
my shadow could hardly keep up with me. And if my shadow was having
trouble, then what hope for my panting pursuers? This open plain was
magnificent, I felt free to fly in any direction I chose, weaving side
to side if ever the threat was directly behind me, jumping away from
clutching claws. I could tease the pursuer, enrage him. But I chose one
direction, and ran comfortably with commanding strides.
Like a dolphin I skipped over the suface of the deep, performing
effortlessly the manouveres that powered the madjestic leaps into the
air. My breath was perfectly in time with my step, one deflation and
expansion again of my lung and I had moved eight steps. Perfect timing.
My thoughts were perfect, as if in meditation, like a shark sleeping as
he swims.
I remember how I used to run on sports day at school. It was the same
sort of determination. I used to be filled with innocence, but also
agression and a natural instinct to win. I won the one hundred metres
sprint two years in a row at school. That was my arena where I was the
celebrity. It was far from numbers and books and cleverness where
no-one could be crowned. This was my domain of strength and agility,
where I was King and all others were my subjects. Cheering, the crowd
would bestow their sweet reward; that maximally intense feeling of
satisfaction and pride I might never experience again, even if I were
to run for the rest of my days. And I know I'll keep trying till those
days have gone. But I'm not desperate for it, and for this time it was
close enough.
In any case tonight my reward was to be a wad of cash and a nice new
watch, as well as the thrill of the chase. As I arrived at the junction
my previous hope was fulfilled - fate must have been smiling down on me
that night. Grace came in the form of a big old-fashioned London bus,
and I leapt into its open arms as it sped off from the traffic
lights.
Safe and smiling, I looked behind me. The men slowed down. One doubled
over, one cursed, one shouted something into his CB radio. But all
three were clearly exhausted. I felt honoured that no less than three
foxes had followed my trail that night. My petty delinquency warranted
that much attention! Or perhaps the government is putting enough into
police funds after all.
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