The Extinct by Victor Methos Page A

around clothes and old books and papers. In a shoebox with letters of academic awards he found his passport and social security card. He put them in his gym bag and changed his clothes and shoes, putting on his jacket and a gray beanie with the University of New Hampshire logo on the front before walking out.
    As he shut the door, relieved, he heard voices down the hall. He looked to see two men walking toward him. One was balding and older, Hispanic, wearing a cheap tan overcoat and the other was young and wearing a business suit that was wet at the shoulders.
    Eric jumped away from his door. He walked down and knocked on the girl’s door that was having an argument. The men were now only a couple dozen feet away, eyeing him. The girl opened the door wearing sweats, a cell phone to her ear.
    “Yeah?” she said.
    “Hi,” Eric said, “I’m David Russell with the UNH Student Committee and I’m just going around today talking to people about the upcoming elections and reminding them to vote.”
    She gave him a quizzical look and then said, “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna vote. When are the elections?”
    The two men walked behind Eric and he felt his heart drop. They’d walked past him and were going down to his door. He glanced at them quickly. The older one smiled and was about to turn back when he looked down and noticed the dripping wet gym bag Eric was holding. He looked up and they caught each other’s eyes. For a moment, neither did anything.
    Eric sprinted toward the entrance of the building at the same time the man yelled out “Police!” Eric heard the girl scream behind him as he rammed the doors open and turned toward the parking lot, the water on the ground splashing up around him as he ran through puddles formed in the small potholes, the shouts of the detectives muffled by the rain.
    He ran into the library and a guy was walking toward him with books held under his arm. Eric knocked them out of his hand and they landed on the floor behind him as the guy started yelling. The officers weaved around him and kept shouting “Police!” startling everyone nearby. Eric got through the door and looked back to see them not thirty feet behind him. He darted into the rain again, the gym bag hitting his knees as he sprinted past the Field House and into the main parking lot before hitting the street. He looked back and saw the older officer far behind him but the younger one was keeping up.
    There was a residential neighborhood across the street and Eric dashed for it, a black SUV having to slam on its brakes and blare the horn as Eric crossed its path. He ran down the sidewalk and saw the detective still behind him. He turned into a driveway and through the backyard, climbed a wooden fence and sprinted through another yard and past a trampoline.
    Eric jumped another fence and into another yard. He heard a scream and saw a woman on her back porch, bringing inside cushioned chairs that were getting doused in rain. He ran at her as she held up her hands and screamed again. He jumped through the open sliding glass door and shut and locked it behind him before shooting through the house and out the front door.
    He ran to an intersection and turned right, ran behind a McDonald’s and around the back into another residential neighborhood; cookie-cutter houses, all square two stories with small front lawns. He could hear sirens in the distance, coming from all directions. His adrenaline kept him going but he could feel the dull ache of lactic acid build up in his legs and his pace began to slow. The Lortab dulled his sensed and winded him. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to run anymore. He went to a white house with immense bushes on the front lawn by the doorway and shoved his money and wallet into the gym bag. Then he shoved the gym bag into the bushes before taking off again.
    Eric zigzagged through more streets, but he’d slowed down considerably by now, having sprinted more than a mile. As he turned a corner, a patrol car