52. Devil's Backbone

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"Oh Lord, oh Lord, what have I done? I've fallen in love with a man on the run . . ."

They don't fire until we reach the line of trees on the outskirts of town. They seem to be aiming at nothing in particular, seeing as how the sun hides behind the forest in which we take cover. I don't see the bullets whirling past; I hear them pop as they smack against the bark of trees surrounding us.

Harry maneuvers easily around them. I use him as a guide, following him with the chain link between us as reference. It twists and tugs at my wrist, pulling me in the right direction.

"Keep your head down," Harry cautions. "They can kill us both without outside witnesses and say that you ran away."

I nod my head and we continue to move. If I had thought that I was nearing an asthma attack before, I had no idea what I would be feeling now. My lungs burn and my legs ache; throat stinging with the sharp intake of cold air.

My staggering ability to keep up with Harry doesn't escape his notice. He stops when the handcuffs become too tight around each of our wrists. His had long been rubbed raw from all of the struggling while mine have not yet broken skin.

"Come on, Love," he encourages me, his tone calm. "We haven't made it out just yet."

I cough uncontrollably, my voice strained and weak. "This is why I didn't want to come with you," I tell him. "I'm just holding you back."

Harry's determined expression crumbles at my words. Shaking his head, he bends down and lifts me off of my feet, bringing me in a bundle to his chest. The action is awkward with the handcuffs restricting our movements but we soon find a position that is comfortable; my right arm adjusted so that he has full mobility of his left.

"Here, hang onto this."

I don't protest when he hands me the gun, I only cling to the both of them as he moves us deeper into the woods. The pistol feels cold and hard in my trembling hands. The bullets around us have ceased but sirens wail loudly somewhere off in the distance. Red and blue lights clash against the night sky, putting on some sort of light show for our escapade.

I watch as the beacons of light grow farther and farther away. The sirens soon follow, the obnoxious blaring subduing to the mere sounds of limbs snapping and Harry's constant, steady breathing.

After we have seemed to venture where no other would go, I peer up at him and tell him to take a break. He refuses but I know that the hands that hold me are bleeding at the wrists.

He finally complies after my persistent scolding, setting me down on a rotted log. To my dismay, he makes no move to join me. Our corresponding arms merely reach out towards one another for the other's convenience. Paranoia seems to be tearing away at him as he surveys the area around us, dark eyes scanning the trees for any sign of company.

He distracts me and from my trembling hands falls the small, black gun. I move quickly, instinctively trying to catch the deadly device. In doing so I make the mistake of initiating the sensitive trigger. The gun fires into the ground and Harry nearly jumps out of his skin, as do I.

He snaps his head in my direction. I frantically try and locate the gun amongst the forest floor, using the moon as my only source of light to search through the leaves.

"What the hell did you do?!" Harry booms above me. He locates the gun before I have the chance to catch the metal shimmer. It's taken in his hands and I feel like crying after what I had done. "You just gave away our position!"

"I'm sorry," I shake my head, my voice faltering, "I didn't mean to."

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that you- Fuck, do I have to do everything?"

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