THEN A PENGUIN WALKED IN #47


And so Dominick ran.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of fighting fell away behind him. He crested a short rise and continued on down the other side. Soon he was among trees. He’d always heard that when something was chasing you, it was best to bob and weave, changing direction as much as possible. You want to make yourself a difficult target to hit. Of course, a nagging doubt tugged at him, that might only be when someone is shooting at you. Or, now that he really thought about it, when you were being chased by an alligator. But he didn’t want to take any chances. Fear will make you do some silly things, and fear was most certainly in the driver’s seat for the time being.

So, once in the tress he did just that, turning sharply every now and again, weaving in and out of the trees. Sprinting off in one direction for a few dozen steps before making a dramatic turn and continuing on. He was running blindly now, fueled by adrenaline, choosing his direction on whim.

If it hadn’t been for the large stream, he may not have stopped until he collapsed. As it was, he hadn’t even seen the stream until he was thigh deep and falling into the water.

He splashed around a bit as his brain tried to process the sudden change of environment, but eventually he crawled onto the bank. Dominick bent, hands on knees, and attempted to catch his breath as water dripped from him. Running was not something he did on a daily basis. Even weekly. Maybe the odd dash from his car into the Happy Hamburger when he was running late, but that was about it.

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