As I thought my bones would snap, my index finger found the loop and slipped through. I tugged gently. The tab gave, and my bound wrists folowed it down. With the zipper open, it was easy to slide the fingers of one hand into the pocket and withdraw the scalpel.

Carefuly cradling my prize, I roled onto my back and wedged the instrument against my stomach. Then I peeled off the napkin by roling the scalpel between my hands.

Rotating the blade toward my body, I began sawing the tape that bound my wrists. The scalpel was razor sharp.

Easy. Careful. Don't carve your wrist.

In less than a minute my hands were free. I reached up and tore the bindings from my lips. Flames raced across my face.

Don't scream!

I yanked the rag from my mouth, alternately gulped air and spat. Gagging on my own foul saliva, I sliced through the blindfold circling my head and ripped it from my eyes.

Another burst of fire as skin and some eyebrows went with the tape. With shaking hands, I reached down and freed my ankles.

I was slashing at the bag when a sound paralyzed my arm.

The chunk of a car door!

How far away? What to do? Play dead?

My arm flew, a piston driven by a wil of its own.

Feet rustled through leaves. My mind calibrated.

Fifty yards.

I jabbed at the canvas. Up, down. Up, down.

The rustling grew louder.

Thirty yards.

I thrust my boots into the opening, thrashed out with al my strength. The tearing sounded like a shriek in the stilness.

The rustling paused, resumed, faster, more reckless.

Twenty yards.

Fifteen.

'Hold it right there.'

I pictured the gun, felt bulets slam into my flesh. It didn't matter. I'd either be dead now or dead later. Better to make a fight of it while there was stil the chance to resist.

'Don't move.'

I flipped around, grabbed the edges I'd torn, and puled with both hands. Then I lunged headfirst through the opening, tumbled facedown, roled onto my feet, and stood on rubber leis, trying to focus.

'Madam, you are dead.'

I bolted away from the sound of the voice.

Keeping the gurgling of the river to my left, I ran through darkness dense as an endless tunnel, one arm in front of my face. Obstacles leaped at me without warning, forcing my feet on a zigzag path.

Again and again I stumbled on some form of planetary rubble. A rock older than life itself. A falen trunk. A dead branch. I kept my balance. Burning fear gave rise to strength and speed.

The things of the night seemed to go silent. I heard no buzzing, no chirping, no padding of feet, just my own rasping breath. Behind me, footfals, thrashing like some giant woodland beast.

Sweat soaked my clothing. Blood pounded in my ears.