Capital Run

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The two women were fleeing for their lives.

They raced over the crest of a low hill, the statuesque redhead and the petite brunette, their legs churning, sweat caking their skin, their breathing labored as their straining lungs gasped for air. The redhead was in the lead, a few feet in front of her companion. Both women wore similar black-leather outfits consisting of a tight vest and skimpy shorts, appropriate attire considering the heat of the June day and their strenuous exertion.

“We’ll never make it!” the brunette cried, wheezing.

The redhead glanced over her right shoulder and scowled. “We’ll make it, damnit! Don’t give up on me now!”

“I’m doing the best I can, Lexine,” the brunette stated.

Lexine smiled encouragingly. “Hang in there, Mira,” she said, her tone reflecting her concern for her friend. “Another mile and we’ll take to the trees.”

The duo jogged onward, sticking to the center of the highway, carefully avoiding the dozens of potholes and deep ruts pockmarking the ancient asphalt surface.

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