Sirens erupted from about us. I was not startled in the least, but maybe the woman was, because, lightning fast, she reached into her sneaker and pulled out a wicked-looking switchblade. I gaped at it, then fumbled around in my boot to draw out a slim pocketknife.
I flipped the knife from one hand to the next, sliced through the wires, easy as butter, then stood up. Stretching my arms and rubbing my wrists to get some feeling back into them, i closed the pocketknife and slipped it back into my boot.
Hearing some shouting, I assumed the cops had come upon our tracks and had set the dogs out. The woman, I’ve yet to know her name, put her switchblade back in her sneaker. We were both armed and ready, the girl, Audrey? not so much.
Now I can hear the cops crashing through the woods, canines barking loudly. They were almost upon us. Quickly I turned to the woman and asked her, “What’s your name? I’m Joe.” Joe wasn’t my real name, of course, but it was good enough. The cops were even closer. “Ready?” I asked…

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