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Damien heard the sound of feet landing on the soft soil and looked past the cabin to spot a dark figure running into the groves.

Screams inside the building pulled Damien’s attention away. He scrambled up and raced into the cabin to find Sanders trying to cover Darlene’s body with his coat, snuffing out the flames.

Damien joined him, pulling the curtains from the window and patted her body, finally quenching the fire.

The sickening smell of charred flesh and burnt hair rose from Darlene like death’s exhale. She moaned in agony, writhing on the hard floor.

“I got this,” Sanders said. “Go. Get the bastard.”

Damien raced out of the cabin. The moonless night made the trees and shadows meld into one. Trying to spot a figure wearing all black would be difficult, if not impossible.

Damien headed toward the last direction he saw the assailant flee. He only had eyes on him for a brief moment, but the killer was lean and fast. Through the cabin window, he estimated his height to be around six feet, but that was more of a guess than a description. A dark figure in a dark room was hard to gauge. Watching him run from the cabin through blurry eyes didn’t help.

Truth was, Damien couldn’t give an accurate account. The killer was a shadow amongst shadows and had a healthy head start.

Tree branches surprised Damien as he ran, their thin limbs covered in leaves indistinguishable from the space between them.

Even with cleared eyes, he was running blind.

He could have used his cell phone light to illuminate the way, but it would turn him into a lighthouse in a sea of trees.

Damien paused and ducked, leaning against a larger grapefruit tree with a hefty trunk. He listened for running feet or shifting branches. Instead he heard the orders barked from his fellow police officers around him, their voices bouncing off the trees, sounding as if they were coming from all directions.

Damien continued forward, keenly aware at some point soon he would have to make his presence known or one of his co-workers could mistake him for a killer and start shooting.

He closed his eyes, stopped trying to chase the killer and started thinking like him.

Escape routes.

The highway. Through the groves. Transportation.

His car wasn’t at the cabin. It had to be somewhere close. Or he could steal a vehicle from the citrus plant, but that was nearly ten miles away. A long run.

If the killer lived in Hayeston, there was only one way to go.

Damien moved through the trees until he came upon the next truck path and sprinted toward the highway.

Finally, his cadet training had come in handy. Months on the obstacle course and strength conditioning allowed his legs to move like lightning, his heart welcoming the strain.

The trees passed by him like flickering black flames, the dull night shimmering through the foliage.

The cool night air moved into his lungs with each quick breath, fueling his legs with all the oxygen he needed.

He could see the gray pavement in the dark of night and heard the grumbling of a car engine nearby. Brake lights flashed up ahead and the tires spun a cloud of dust and sand into the air.

The car moved onto the highway without its lights on and sped away as Damien reached the pavement’s edge.

He lifted his pistol, his hands shaking from the run, and fired at the shrinking shadow.

The car swerved off the road, around a parked police cruiser, and continued into the night.