By the time he stopped running his lungs were burning and his temples pounding, his chest so constricted it felt as if his rib cage would implode. His heart thudded at a machine gun rate, and his mouth was filled with cottony corroded copper. His feet were shredded and his face, torso and legs crisscrossed with cuts so numerous he was a solid sheen of red, appearing oily black in the dim moonlight. Even his cock was torn, his scrotum punctured and seeping.
Only his eyes miraculously escaped damage from the thick vegetation through which he blindly pursued freedom. Wide, white-rimmed blue orbs desperately scanned the darkness for an avenue, a path, an opening through which to continue.
He was in a small clearing, the first he’d crossed since effecting his escape. He wanted to bend, clutch his knees, and gather his breath but he had no time for such luxury. Looking up to gather his bearings, dismay washed over him; only grayish darkness above, the stars masked by tropical cloud cover.
They would be on him soon if he didn’t get moving, but he knew well that continuing to stumble blindly through the jungle could kill him as quickly as if he sat down and simply waited for them to find him.
This was not the tame, wide-aisled jungles of Tarzan and Indiana Jones. This was the Panamanian jungle, with some of the thickest vegetation in the world, filled with poisonous insects, spiders, snakes, and reptiles, and death could strike from any quarter. He prayed one of the big cats had not caught his scent andwas stalking him. Though death in that manner would be preferable to death from the hell pursuing him.
He needed direction...
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