Atlanta Run

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The woman paused on the crest of the low hill and glanced over her right shoulder at the twinkling lights of the metropolis a mile distant. The wind whipped her brown hair into her green eyes, and she swiped at the lashing strands with her left hand. Held in her right arm, clutched close to her breast, was her child.

There was no sign of pursuit; the highway behind them was deserted.

Good.

Their escape had gone unnoticed.

She smiled in triumph as she faced to the south and fled into the night.

The prospect of bumping into a mutant chilled her blood, but there wasn’t any other choice. If she stopped, if she sought shelter from the elements, she risked being discovered by a Terminator patrol. The Terminators frequently ranged more than a mile from Atlanta, so she wasn’t in the clear yet.

Another mile should do it.

“Mommy?”

“Not now, Chastity.”

“I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You’re scared, Mommy.”

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