Prose

Jon ran frantically down the steep angular wall leading to the rivers edge. Suddenly he stumbled slamming into the concrete, the momentum threw him into the air creating a somersault that continued several times before plunging into the water. Quickly looking up he struggled to his feet and hobbled toward the trestle of chicago's smallest drawbridge.

Leaning against a pillar he gasped for his breath, pumping a mist of heat into the cold air. His unbearable fear of what lurked after him desensitized him from a frostbitten body, even as the water from his clothing quickly immobilized into bloody icicles. If he stopped moving completely he would surely become a permanent fixture on the bridge.

A loud oil tanker's fog horn moaned with it's two deep tones as it emerged from the dense night fog. It startled Jon into a soaring leap that stopped upon hitting another pillar of the bridge to his left. He looked up to see what created the annoying rustle in the large patches of ice floating on the river. A gigantic three story tower covered with dim lights swayed from the top of an enormous hull while it lurked through the water approaching the bridge. Now resting his hands on the underside of the bridge Jon was put into a quiver that rooted from the grinding of gears to the up-swinging platform at the center of the bridge.

Jon swung his eyes a hundred yards down to see the continuing road and found it vacant. The hypnotizing blink of yellow and red lights at either end of the road gleamed on the water piercing the blackness of the night. A sudden crash of ice against the bow of the passing ship broke Jon's intense gaze and the sphere-like beam of the lights came into focus.

For a few seconds all sounds and images faded just before Jon was given a distinct jerk by his senses, not allowing him to doze off. When he slowly opened his eyes he discovered the bridge in a properly straight position. The water was again still and all that could be heard was the monotonous kurplunk of water that greatly increased in volume, pounding like a hammer in Jon's head. The sound of drips changed with the addition of footsteps. Boots giving a loud bassy boom with every step. Jon glanced to the right finding his pursuer moving closer. The image of the man's rifle hanging from his shoulder stayed fixed in Jon's head as he desperately ran for his life.

Jon came to the angled wall not far from where he had previously tumbled down. Climbing on hands and knees the top seemed miles from his reach. Sweat mixed with blood streaming down his face, asthma holding his lungs tight in it's grip, he found the street. He continued crawling several feet then stood. Eyes glared as frightening orbs from all around. Blue, red and yellow lights flashed in all directions. Blue patrol cars and white and red ambulances surrounded the premises. Turning to his right Jon saw a group of men closing the distance between them. They appeared to have elongated faces, evil eyes and bodies that towered greater than life.

Fear eating at his mind Jon shrank to the ground and began to paw backward. Stopped by the tire of a patrol car his face turned perplexed with terror. His fractured knee, cut up ankle and pounding heart were pronounced as overwhelming pains. He swallowed his arms and legs into his chest. His eyes bulging in horror and jaw rattling from the cold, he lost all hope of survival.

The men stopped their approach and let another come forward. Dressed in rugged motorcycle attire, a trench coat, and with a rifle strapped to his shoulder Hawke knelt to face Jon eye to eye. He reached to his rear pocket a snapped out a handkerchief. Wiping the drool from Jon's chin an officer handed him a blanket. With a comforting touch Hawke assured Jon he was there to help.

Hawke stood Jon up and rapped the blanket around him. He then turned to the others lifting his rifle to their faces.

"I assume all jurisdiction of this operation, from now on I'm responsible for Jon", Hawke stated strongly.

"You can't do that Hawke, this isn't the government your dealing with", stated a man dressed in a suit and coat.

Hawke glanced at the distance to the river.

"Watch me", said Hawke, just before darting off with Jon. Running with the speed of a train he leaped from the bridge, plunging himself and Jon into the river. Hawke immediately swam deep along the concrete side of the river to avoid the shower of bullets. Instantly they where sucked into a huge drain pipe within the wall. Hurling through it the passage narrowed and flushed them out into a reservoir. Hawke grabbed Jon and swam to a ledge near the wall. Jon panted while stretched to his full length. Hawke sat up with his back to the wall and said,

"Well kid, I hope you're grateful".