Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

anyone. He knew others were behind him, but he still felt very alone and that feeling was a bit creepy.
    The day was getting nicer by the hour. Now he could feel the temperature steadily rising. It must be close to forty already. He stuffed his hat in his pocket and unzipped his jacket about halfway as he continued to run along alone. He smiled, and since his goal was only to finish, he did not press the pace. He wanted to enjoy the day and remember every bit of the experience.
    Cresting the hill, he remembered that it was a long, tortuous way down before reaching the water. He was not looking forward to splashing through that ice-cold water a second time, but having survived it once, he knew that he could deal with it. Ahead there were some very short, steep rises followed by equally steep drops. He figured that the trail was heading east because of the way that sunbeams knifed through gaps in the trees. At one point, he slowed to take it all in. It reminded him of those tacky paintings you would see on late-night television, where images would flash across the screen while an overly excited voice shouted, “Real Oil Paintings from ONLY $3.99 to $24.99! Credit cards accepted! Call now blah, blah, blah.” He almost expected to see a unicorn peek out from behind a tree.
    “Come on. Enough of this shit. Get your legs moving,” he chided himself. Jack remained alone as he ran, while the trail became increasingly difficult as it followed the ridge of the hill. The quick turns, dips, and rises were exhilarating and made him feel as if he were racing on skis. Each step was more of a hop and leap as his weight shifted right, then left, and his arms flew out to help maintain balance as he careened down the drops before slowing and powering himself up the next rise.
    He was on the edge of control as he reached the end of a steep drop, and as the trail flattened out along a ridge, he ran into one of those bright beams of sunlight. For no more than a split second, he lost sight of the trail, but it was enough. He planted his left foot to drive himself to the right, when his foot went out from under him. It might have been a loose rock, wet leaves, or even a patch of dry pine needles that caused his foot to slip. The exact cause didn’t matter because in that moment he went from running to tumbling down the side of the hill. All he could do was try to protect himself as he bounced, rolled, and slid over rocks, bushes, sticks, and stones. He felt no pain. That would come later.
    The last thing Jack remembered of the fall was seeing a tree he could not avoid. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he remained conscious. He could see small patches of blue sky above through the trees. As his breath returned, he lay there and slowly began to assess his condition.
    He was beginning to feel the effects of the fall. He hurt all over. It was a dull, aching kind of pain. Unable to tell exactly what hurt the most, gingerly he began to move one body part after another. It was a relief that everything worked, but with each movement, the aches and pains became more defined.
    Having established that nothing seemed to be broken, he lifted his head. He could feel it throbbing right through his eyeballs as he looked down his body. His tights and jacket were torn, and he could see his feet, all three of them. “Ohh,” he moaned and let his head fall back.
    As he lay there, still trying to understand what had happened, the throbbing in his head seemed to lessen. He looked up at the sky and realized that he could see perfectly clearly. “ Well, okay then, ” he thought to himself, and he lifted his head again. The throbbing returned, but not quite as badly as before. He looked down at his feet again. There were still three of them, and this time he saw that one of the running shoes did not match the other two. He moaned again as he lay back down, trying to understand what was going on. After several deep breaths, the throbbing once again began to subside. Three feet. It made no sense, so he began to sit up again.
    Where before he had lifted only his head, this time he pushed himself up using his arms. The throbbing in his head increased and the ground under his right elbow seemed soft. “Mud, I’m in mud,” he thought. He turned his head slowly, but instead of mud, a pair of lifeless eyes stared up at him.
    Panic overcame pain. “Ahhhh!” he screamed, but no sound came out, only a rush of air as he emptied his lungs and rolled to