The wind tore at his scarred face. The rain pounded on his back. Still he ran on. His matted black hair flowed in trails behind him. The undergrowth in homeland Russia scourged past his body, sending rivulets of blood coursing down his face. Still he ran on. His ragged breath puffed out in plumes ahead of him. His serf clothes hung loosely about his skinny frame, the rain causing it to drip constantly. Still he ran on. He ran because of the laboratories he left behind. No one was chasing him. It was the fear of being found outside of the camp premises that sent him careening through the Russian foliage. He would surely be whipped if he was found out, yet he didn’t think much of being a specimen to inject with all sorts of toxic liquids. He could never escape the results, his loathsome features. He slowly ground to a halt. This was the tricky part, getting out or over the electric fence.
“Damn it,” he whispered under his breath, “now what am i gonna do?” He spared a glance at the terrain around him, wet, muddy and cold. “A crowbar! The guards probably forgot it here when they were fixing the fence from the last escape attempt.” He said to himself, shuddering as he looked at the fence, a small piece if unidentifiable burnt stuffhanging from one of the wires.
“Those science freaks will never know what hit them once I am free and back to whop their butts.” He ran over to pick up the hunk of iron. “There we go.” Now he unwound some twine from his carefully planned escape “kit” that he always kept hidden under his shirt; and tied the non-conductive material around the crowbar. Then he casually tossed the first hooked edge onto a wire of the fence…
The hook caught and dangled innocently from the deadly wire. He cautiously walked towards the crackling metal. Once he was next to it he pulled down on the twine, hoping it wouldn’t break, he latched the second edge of the crowbar onto the wire below it, creating a small gap between mud and death. Then he heard sirens in the distance. His heart rate tripled. He scrabbled furiously at the soft mud beneath the fence. Slowly the gap got larger and larger until he finally had enough space to crawl through to the other side – to freedom. He grabbed the twine from the other side of the fence and led it through to his side. He carefully removed the crowbar and hastily drew the mud back into place – covering the hole he had made. The vicious rain would cover his tracks even more effectively, the searchers would not find him if he kept his wit about him.