Who: Lindsey McDonald and Faith Lehane What: A night run Where: Quiet small store district When: Late evening Rating: PG-13
There was a chill to the night air that seemed appropriate for the upcoming Halloween season, kicking up a few pieces of light trash from the alleys. A crumpled flier for a local band skittered across the sidewalk just in time to be crushed beneath the sneaker of a runner.
Growing up, Lindsey had run. Not away, not for his health, not to. He'd run when things had gotten overwhelming, he'd needed to think, or he'd had an excess of energy to get rid of. Once in a while he'd run so far that his knees would give from exhaustion and one of his older siblings would have to come find him to bring him home. Freedom and focus. The past few months he'd fallen back into the old habit, suspended only when the apocalypse had rolled in.
Only this time he didn't run till he dropped from exhaustion, just enough time spent jogging to work through some of the more difficult problems at work. Some days it just felt good to feel his heart pounding in his chest. Tonight the possiblity existed that he'd overdone it on coffee.
Lindsey, dressed in dark track pants and jacket, wound his way through the socialites heading to the clubs in the district and workaholics finally emerging from their offices to head home. Soon the crowd began to thin as he detoured onto the smaller streets, towards the area that housed the smaller, closed shops and a few low rent apartment buildings. He passed fewer and fewer people until the streets were empty, most in their homes with doors double bolted or elsewhere. Most in the area knew that something not entirely normal went bump in the night and avoided it as best they could without having to accept what it really could be.
He slowed down and stopped, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees as he inhaled deeply while his heartbeat fluttered away.