This is something I put together recently, but I think it needs something. I don't like it much how it is, but I'm not sure how to make it better. Any help or suggestions would be welcome.
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PURSUIT
Chapter 1
A train of bikers moved slowly along a deserted path. They continued doggedly on, even though their limbs were exhausted and they were all panting half-heartedly. All of them have lost track of time, only aware of the endless hours passing by. Clouds ran across the darkened sky. There was a thick mist cloaking everything in its damp veil. Everything was quiet save for the clinking of chains and the light scraping sound caused by the slowly turning wheels. They made a slightly odd sight, with the array of different shapes and sizes of bicycle. There were two large, regular sized bikes, a smaller one, and a big one with a smaller one attached on the back. One of the huddled forms pulled over to the side of the dirt road, and climbed off.
“We can’t go any further tonight.”
The others stopped around her, parking their bikes side by side. The one with the bike that was attached to another one got off, and lifted a small child of the back seat. Another child got off her bike, swaying slightly with dizziness. Their ride had taken a toll on all of them. One of them took off his hood, revealing a haggard, slightly stubbly middle aged face.
“Yes, I'm afraid we’ll have to find somewhere to sleep around here.”
He walked slowly towards the top of the hill which they had stopped half way up. All around them was the wide open moor, with its swaying grasses and marshy peat bogs. Far off in the distance there was a sprinkling of tiny lights, the nearest town. He turned back and looked at the place where his wife and children were drinking water and resting. They had been riding almost all night without rest, but even now they might not be safe. He sighed and took one last look at the surrounding countryside, and walked slowly back to his family.
They had already begun unloading their meager supplies, and were starting to set up a makeshift camp. He walked the bikes one by one over, off the road, and laid the down on their sides. After making sure that they wouldn’t be discovered, he took all the needed supplies out of his large back pack and set them down on the ground. He laid out a earth-colored tarp further away and on the other side of the track from the bicycles. The marsh provided little cover, but he dragged the tarp into a ditch between two smallish hills. The ground was wet at the bottom, and made a squelching sound when the sleeping bags were thrown on top of the tarp. The tarp was water proof, but the coldness of the ground steeped through the plastic material, chilling the family to the bone. There wasn’t much room on the tarp, and the air had a sickly taste in it. But the exhausted and bedraggled family fell asleep almost instantly, despite the discomfort of their environment.
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The mother awoke first, sleepily aware of flashing lights and loud noises. She reached over her two sleeping children and reluctantly shook her husband awake. He was alert immediately. The noises, which she now recognized as voices, were drawing closer.
“Yes sir, we are sure they came this way. They left tracks on the path, leading over that hill somewhere. They must have either cut straight through the marshes on foot, or have gone to sleep somewhere around here.”
The man reached over and shook the older child gently but urgently, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle her protest. The mother had already removed the toddler from his sleeping bag, and carried him, still asleep, in her arms. The family crawled as silently as they could away from their camp. Once they were certain that their pursuers wouldn’t be able to hear their footsteps, they stood up and began to run as fast as they could. The older child thought that she could faintly hear, off in the distance, shouts of excitement. They must have found the sleeping bags. It would not be long until they found the bikes, and then it would be obvious where they had gone. The soldiers had horses, as well as motorcycles and other vehicles. Their only hope would be to get to some nearby civilization by cutting straight across the moor.
A mourning dove called from somewhere nearby, signaling the approach of dawn. They were leaving obvious tracks now, but it was unavoidable. The ground was wet and squishy, and made loud squelching noises when they tried to remove their feet from the ground. Hours past, and soon the sky began to get a lighter, pinkish tinge in the distance. The man frowned slightly when he saw exactly where the sun was coming up, and consequently their direction, but he made no comment.
They continued on as the sun made its first feeble attempt to pass the horizon, smelling the smells of the bog. Mosquitoes flew around them angrily, sucking their blood. Exhaustion was nearby, lurking on the edges of all their minds, except maybe the mind of Ethan, the toddler, still asleep in his mother’s arms. It was apparent to all of them that if they did not stop soon, they would collapse face down in the peat. It had also occurred to the adults that they could end up stranded in the bog. Already they were in water up to their ankles, breathing in the foul smelling mist which rose in waves from the grasses and puddles around them. They knew that there were places with water over their heads, so called "mire" patches, and other hazards. The girl was looking down at the ground, not watching or caring where she was going, lost in her own world.
Soon Ethan awoke, and began to whimper pathetically. His mother set him down, and he proceeded to bury his hands in the muck, squealing with delight when a mosquito landed on his muddy finger. He stopped being happy, however, when the mosquito bit him, and an angry red lump began to appear on his finger. However, he was sturdy on his legs for his age, and he stumbled resolutely on. The father pushed ahead, trying to fight of the mood that was slowly creeping up on all of them. It was unavoidable though; they were simply too tired to go any further. The girl simplified matters slightly by sitting down resolutely on a rotted log.
“I’m not going any further.”
“Come on Emma, you have to, it’s not far now”
The father coaxed his daughter gently, though he was not at all sure that what he was telling her was true. She got up reluctantly, and once again they set off. The sun had begun to burn of the mist, and the air at least was warmer now, but it didn’t help much.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. It was as if their spirits had been refreshed, and there was now hope in their minds. Soon, they notice the level of liquid beginning to go down, and their footsteps were no longer drowned in water. Mud was replaced by springy peat moss, and long cattails were replaced by waving grasses. The found themselves going slowly up hill, and soon they were looking down on the surrounding land. They could not help shouting for joy when they saw it. I was a fence post, alone and solitary, sticking up out of the mist with a sign:
Caution, enter at your own risk. Dangerous bog and mire
They ran down the hill excitedly, bouncing on the now only slightly springy turf. They had passed the first sign of civilization without being caught. The adults smiled at each other. They had gotten their family to a town, and they were safe…..for now.
