Fear

By Belinda Brown

HE ran across the lawn wildly, heart thumping, breath coming in quick gasps. The sun blazed over head and all around him was space, empty and frightening. He must get away—away from these agoraphobic conditions and find somewhere hidden and sheltered. Behind him he heard the thundering footfalls of his pursuers and knew that he would have to make his escape quickly.

There was a turning away from the nark on his left and he hurried down it thankfully, pausing onlv a moment to check how far his followers were behind him. As he made his way down it blindly, he picked his way along beside the little stream that ran down it, half bv instinct and half by an accuracy which the desperation of the moment had lent him.

He must get away, he must—he was obsessed with the idea and if they caught him only God knew what would happen. He stumbled and almost fell, but reached up and grasped a branch hanging over the stream in his urgencv and hurried on, sobbing for breath, the blood pound ing in his ears.

He reached the end of the turning and hurtled into the small wood it lead out on to. He was exhausted and knew he could not carry on much longer. He would have liked to keep on running until he reached the village on the other side, where he knew of a good hiding place, but realised it was sheer madness to attempt to cover that distance now.

He must lie low and wait until they had passed. He must stay un discovered. If they caught him now —but no, he could not bear to think about that. He would make sure he was not caught. He found what he considered to be a fairly large tree and leant against it, winded and almost doubled with pain. He felt faint with fear, and dizzy and numb with the effort of running. His brother’s words still thundered in his ears and he shuddered when he thought of them.

And he had believed Jim was his i friend —Jim, his own brother, and he; had said that. Oh well, he would 1 show them—his fear and anger seemed nothing against the rigid I determination that had possessed him j now. He would evade them—he; would evade them—he would make; sure of that.

HE heard them coming and he: shrank back behind the protec tive form of the tree, fists and teeth] clenched, every nerve in his body' stretched to breaking point. Jt was< as if the rustling of the trees and the; calling of the birds had ceased tO( exist. He was only aware of the; people behind him—they were the; whole world to h>m now, and if t > found him out he’d have nothing,, at all. He waited in a silence that! seemed endless.

Suddenly, he heard one of themr close behind him—calling his name: out mockingly, and for an awful!

moment he thought they’d found him.

But no—they were just trying to frighten him, knowing he was some where in the vicinity and aiming to torture him until he gave himself up.

He felt he would rather die than do that. He was not as lily-livered as they thought.

He stayed in hiding for 10 minutes, dodging from tree to tree as they searched for him vainly, insulting him, ridiculing him, trying to spring on him, but all the time under estimating his inborn sense of know ing exactly when to dodge and when to stay put. In the end, it was they that gave up.

“Come on—he must have gone on into the village. Too late to go now —we’ll have to get back.”

He could hardly believe his luck.

He waited a moment until he heard their footsteps fade into the distance and then ran out from behind a tree, Dvercome with relief and throwing :aution to the wind. He was free!

Free! He was . . , “So we’ve finally caught you.”

He froze. He looked up, dis aelievingly, to meet the cold hard ;aze of one of his brother’s friends.

“Thought that would get you— hem going off like that. What you lidn’t realise was that I stayed be u'nd.”

He had a wild impulse to run, to ake one last crazy chance and make i desperate bid for freedom. But he :new it was no good. He had to sur ender now—it was the rule of the ame.

“Okay Alec, Jim. I’ve got him.

Tm can come back now.”

He hung his head and stared de jctedly at the ground while they ame back, not even trusting himself 3 speak.

“Well, well—you’ve really proved ourself now, haven’t you? Never new you had it in you! Well done!” \I AS that Jim’s voice? Jim, his brother, who had said he would irash him well and truly if . . .

“Come on, you must be tired after 11 that. Come here and I’ll give you piggy back home.” ‘But . . . but you said you’d irash me . . he finally managed > blurt out, feeling a mixture of un slievable relief, joy and indignation.

What about . . .”

The boy gasped, overwhelmed with appiness, and ran to his 15-year-old other with tears of relief shining his eyes. Jim would never really we thrashed him. Not his brother m. Good old Jim. He wouldn’t we thrashed him just for being mght in a silly game of hide-and ek.