Book with the spine marked ' Not so Everlong'

This tightening feeling that comes when your rips fully expand before contracting. This feeling of your lungs burning while your flesh grows warm and coated with sweat. This act of moving your body one motion at a time, forcing yourself further. That ringing in your ears when you realized you just pushed your body just a little to far.
Then the world comes roaring back to you in mid-stride.
People yelling and the noise of guns going off behind you.
Body tense and vision going back to being a tunnel, you focus on one thing and one thing only, because you know it's your survival.
Run.

An unneeded stop left you near a wall, sore and tired. Behind and the next level above the fight continues to roar. Behind you and down the hall the noise of heavy boots hitting the floor while the shifting noises of body armor and weaponry swaying off the pursuers continues to grow loud.

One hand pushing off the wall, you take this momentum and own it as a means of propelling you the first few steps. Before long you find your stride and while breathing heavily remember to take air in threw your nostrils and exhale from your mouth. Your body moving a machine focused for this odd but simple purpose of continuing to move, to survive.

Rounding a corner past a cramped hallway, one of the masked and body armor clad men would reach out for you. Rifle lowered and gloved hand out reached. Kicking the sole of your foot off a wall you come towards the sudden attacker with fore-arm and elbow impacting ever so slowly across the gas-masked face. Glass shattering suddenly time feels to catch up while the guard goes down underneath you. But you weren't going to stop and look, instead your feet continue to move as they find purchase upon the chest plate of the over encumbered man before you.
Legs flexing time feels to slow as the crouched position flexes out hard before a bounce turns this once human wall into a spring board... only propelling you further forward... out...to freedom.

Time comes back to it's normal view as the feel of air burns your lungs. You want to get out of this cramped artificial place. Florescent lights lining the corners of the ceilings. Right at the crook where the walls meet the easily ten foot high metal ceilings. Doors all opened by motors or locked by some means of electrical input or output. Cameras always watching...
Now that you've managed to get out... you won't stop running. Won't lay down... won't go back.
Passing a window, the first one you've seen yet... you're eyes focus on the blue sky outside with a few clouds barely floating over head.
During that time two more guards round a corner firing riot control rounds towards your still in motion body. Spiraling both could clearly be seen as bean-bag rounds. Opening up and tumbling in mid-air.
Straining for a moment of balance, you turn from running to dodging. Muscles pop and joints ache for a moment as the first bean bag hits the wall near you before the second one glances off the outside of your barely clothed thigh.
Burning is the first thing that comes in senses, nerves firing... telling you the obvious. You're hurt. You need to stop and treat the damaged and soon to be bruising flesh.
But instead you put your weight to the other leg before using the hurt one to kick the riot control gun in the hands of the right guard, towards the left guard. The two blocking the path before you react out of reflexes and training. The left tried to duck but his gear was to heavy before the round went off. Bean-bag instantly nailing the left guard's helmet hard enough to lay him out.
The remaining obstacle would of course curse before turning back towards where you once stood, instead you've slipped around behind the guy while trying to dive between the over padded body armor and the wall. Finding unusual balance and agility your body tucks and rolls before riot gun fires. The bean bag lands right where you had rolled across. Up on your feet and in a dead wind-sprint, something guides you to weave right before bounding left. Once more the thud and hard impact of a bean-bag hits a wall panel before you spring board off the opposite surface.
Now around another corner you find yourself in an office room.

Chairs around a large old and dusty chair, your eyes see the massive window across the area. Still in stride, hands gripping a chair, only to aim directly towards that simple surface of glass.
Screaming a defiant cry, the glass shatters from the hard impact of the chair's legs. This results also in the instant splintering of the old piece of furniture.

Instantly wind comes in to swirl about while the remain crumbling glass falls both inside as well as a long drop outside. The cool and simple wind brings a bit of peace to your exposed and sweat coated flesh. Fresh air that makes you for a split second forget about your pursuers.
Below several feet was a large expanse of water, simply barred back by a few concrete walls near the bottom of the cliff.
Shouts come from over your shoulders as first and only step came next.

Legs coming together perfectly, chin down slightly, while hands loosely pinned to your sides... you step from captivity and into the waking blue beyond. The impact was perfect. Water encasing and momentarily easing your body... but now... instead of running... it was time to swim...
​

------------------------------------------------------------------
​

---------------------------------------------------------​