A few moments went by and no one else appeared to be emerging from the parked truck. The patrolman knocked again, this time louder, his expression getting meaner by the second, his stance showing a growing impatience. I stayed still and watched from my crouched position in the shed from across the street, trying hard to stay hidden beneath the window sill while still trying to get a good view of what was happening outside. The patrolman slowly brought one hand up to his weapon around his holster while he held a walkie talkie in his other hand. I strained to hear what he was saying but all I could make out were the words "back up". I must have leant across too far because at the moment that the patrolman placed his walkie talkie away while his eyes drifted towards the shed where I was hiding, our eyes locked.
At first, my eyes widened with shock into a sudden realisation that I had been found out. Then a bitter tasting fear infiltrated my system and quickly intensified into a sense of panic. I felt like a prey whose hunter had finally discovered him. And in that moment, as the adrenalin kicked in, the only thing I could do was painfully peel my eyes away from this moment, to end my role as an observer, and run.
I skipped over ropes and other paraphernalia that were scattered across the shed floor. Heading for the crack in the wooden boards at the far end of the shed I knew that I had to make it to the river. Soon, the patrolman's back up would arrive and in my mind's eye I could already see him speaking in his walkie talkie again, this time asking for the dogs to be sent too. The river would be my only salvage and I ran, faster than I ever imagined I could until I finally reached its bank.