timemachineup
He jumped over a barrel, heart racing. They were close behind, and his legs slipped, hands scraping over the wood as he scrambled.
He tripped, stumbling.
Their shouts echoed behind him. He could scarcely breath, heart pounding. The market ended up ahead.
Safety was within sight. Out of reach, only just. He could make it, he could--a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
He was caught.