“Don’t move.”

Shaking beams of light and one brighter than 40 spotlights suddenly poured out behind the trees. It was a stolen light.

He put his hands up to his eyes and sank to his knees into the snow.

“Where are you coming from and heading?”

He had to pull his lips open to speak,

“Coming from division 1, department 12. Heading anywhere but a department or division.”

There were about twelve men. He didn’t plan on having twelve rebels finding him.

“How did you get out of D1-12?”

He could remember how it took two weeks.

“That’s a big question for me and that’s an hour story for you.”

“I don’t want fucking crap out of your mouth. I want an answer to my question; I don’t care if it’s shortened.”

“Well, I made a good break for it.”

“Bullshit. There are cameras. Hundreds.”

“I assumed they saw me. I took a couple shortcuts I learned and nothing seemed to follow me.”

There was a good silence on that.

The voice behind the gun left him with, “I’m sorry.”

And they opened fire.