The Killed Man Was Not High On Adrenaline

1263 Words Oct 12th, 2015 6 Pages
The canister bounced and tumbled along the road ahead of them, then came the sound of a second, and a third. Bright flashes from behind. A cloud of white smoke swirling around their legs thickened quickly into a blinding wall as they ran on.
His throat had constricted and he started to cough. He was choking as he realized Penny 's hand was no longer in his. Stumbling onwards with tears streaming, he collided heavily with the stonework of a wall and sank down into a crouch to rub at his stinging eyes.
“Storm!” Her hand reached down. He managed to catch a glimpse of her hair. Penny pulled him up and he followed behind, blind to what was happening around them.
People ran by, pushing past them, tripping and tumbling over one another. Two youths limped toward them. One supported the other, stumbling under the weight of his companion. The wounded man was still high on adrenaline. Wired eyes behind tangled hair that stuck wetly to his brow. He was bleeding from a head wound, his hand pressed to his face as if it might fall off if he were to let go.
They made their way through the acrid air, the cloud of gas so dense they barely made out their own feet. Bumping into blinded stumbling people, they almost fell over the three policemen.
The knees of two officers pressed down on the backs of screaming women struggling as their hands were secured with the help of a third officer.
Storm pulled Penny past the clutch of wrestling bodies when a black-gloved hand reached out and grabbed…

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