The Chase: an ebook short story. Paul Finch

      Wheezing for breath, she reached the other side of the barn, only to find no additional outbuildings save a couple of cowsheds and a gherkin-shaped silage tower. Another track led away from this, again cutting through the encircling woodland. But how far would it go on? How much more running did she have to do? Alex hadn’t done much exercise in recent years and she was now bone-weary, her body damp, cold and stiffening.

      She continued probing along the side of the barn, hoping against hope that she’d find something – a tractor, a quad bike, maybe even a tethered horse – anything she could use to affect a getaway. But all she found were two slightly open doors.

      She hesitated, peering at the darkness inside with heart pounding. She didn’t like the idea of hiding and possibly trapping herself, but running was getting her nowhere and at least if she was hiding she could rest. She sidled into a dank interior, which, though she couldn’t see it, she could sense was enormous. There was an eye-watering stink of manure, but if she poked around in here there had to be somewhere she could conceal herself. It didn’t need to be the best hiding place on Earth. This guy was surely running out of time; that cop would be missed at some point.

      She might even be able to lie low until dawn; though how far off was that? Alex wasn’t sure she could tolerate the stench in here for six minutes. Grimacing, she lurched forward, arms outstretched. Even so, she managed to miss a solid wooden stanchion, which she walked into face first. It caught her right on the nose and brought fresh, hot tears to eyes already swollen with weeping.

      Irritably, she wiped them away and glanced back. The entrance was defined by a narrow slice of darkness vaguely paler than the darkness around it. She listened, but there was no sound from outside. Satisfied, she scrabbled leftward of the stanchion, and found an upright ladder. It was firm, secured in place. Without really thinking, she began to climb. No doubt it would lead to a hayloft; there’d be no escape from up there if she was cornered. But at least she’d be looking down on him,which would give her an advantage of sorts. That said, she climbed much higher than she would have been happy with. Eventually, about sixteen feet up, she ascended through a square aperture, and clambered from the ladder onto a straw-covered shelf, though in the pitch dark she couldn’t see how far it extended.