Running Only Gets You So Far

Shelley Tuttle used to live to run, now she is running for her life. Can a former track start outrun her bad choices?

• Up to 1,000 words
• Genre = Thriller
• Location = A Cove
• Object = Swimming Cap

Run…Breathe…Get to the finish line…Run…Breathe…Get to the finish line…

Shelley repeated the mantra in her head, even as the small pack she wore thumped her back in time with her pounding feet. Sweat dripped down, stinging her eyes, reminding her this was no high school track meet. Racing ahead, the sun set in the distance, her lungs straining with the effort.

Shelley had never struggled to run. As the record setting long distance track star of Juniper Falls High, she’d been nicknamed “Swift” Shelley Tuttle. But the damp sand on the beach sucked at her feet as though it were in league with the man pursuing her. She did not dare to turn and look back, to see if he had kept up. She couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing in her ears. Or maybe it was the sound of the waves crashing on the shore?

Shelley slowed as she came to the curve that indicated Copper Cove was near. It was the first place she visited when moving to the quaint little town in California by the same name. The wooden sign at the visitor’s center in town explained the name came from the reddish orange hue of the cove’s rocks at sunset. She looked for a place to crouch down safely. Shelley needed to make sure the man was not close enough to see her before she went to the cove, it was her only safe space. She stooped at the crest of the jagged rocks and waited, counting down until her heart rate was under 100. She checked, it looked like he had not kept up.

Shelley walked on the edges of the rocks, to keep from leaving footprints, just in case. She inched across the damp surface, using the crevices worn by time and wind to keep her balance. It would be quicker and less dangerous to walk on the sand, but she wanted to be extra cautious.

Shelley entered the cove, sat down and closed her eyes. What had happened? She pictured the street as she had come home tonight, trying to remember what spooked her. Her eyes flew open as it clicked; the street had been unusually quiet. There were no dogs barking and several of the streetlights were out. Jared had told her, “if it don’t feel right, take flight” and so she had.

Ugh, Jared Stockton was to blame for all of this! Shelley had been a no name, small town kid in her junior year of college when she met Jared at the local diner. She had applied for a waitressing job and he was the line cook. All those romance novels Shelley read as a teen had her falling for his southern drawl, his muscle arms and his muscle car. And she had fallen hard, so when he asked to keep a gym bag at the house she was renting, she thought things were getting serious.

Shelley had no idea how serious. He wasn’t looking to start staying the night or even move in. He just wanted to hide the cash he stole…from a bookie. A bookie from L.A.! They didn’t even have bookies in Juniper Falls, South Carolina! After a few days of the bag just sitting in the closet, she got curious, and really, who wouldn’t? She had unzipped the bag, expecting a toothbrush and maybe some clothes. They were there, but under the clothes was a towel and then, wrapped up in a several swimming caps, were bundles of cash. And they smelled; like sweat and grease and bad news. That’s exactly what it had been, bad news. She called Jared and told him come get the bag, she was done. She felt like a fool. But Jared never showed up to get the money. In fact, he didn’t show up for work the next day, or the next and Shelley started to get worried. Three nights later, while washing dishes at home, he snuck in her house. His face was bloodied and bruised, and he looked like he needed two hot showers, not just one.

“Shelley, listen to me, the guy I stole the money from knows I took it and I think he knows I brought it here. He’s been following me, but I think I shook him off,” he rushed to tell her grabbing the bag from the bench she’d left it on. He thrust one of the bundles of money in a small bag and shoved a gun in it as well. “Take this; keep it on you just in case. If you need to leave, this money will last you a few weeks and the gun may save your life.” He kissed her, hands on her face and told her the words now haunting her; “pay attention babe, if it don’t feel right, take flight, maybe go to that spot you love.” What a stupid thing to say, she thought now as she sat, wondering if it was safe to leave.

Suddenly, she heard the crack of gunfire, followed by footsteps, slapping on the puddles of water left after the tide rolls back out. Quietly, she reached into the bag and pulled out the gun Jared had given her just days before. Shelley stood, waiting for the intruder to come into her line of sight. It was dark but the moon was full enough to make out his shape. She stepped back hoping he would just turn around and leave. But he didn’t. She heard a click she thought for sure was a gun and fired toward the looming mass now standing in the entry way. The flashlight, turned on just seconds before, illuminated his face as he fell forward, the shock evident as Jared Stockton sank lifelessly into the shallow pools of seawater. And for the first time in her life, “Swift” Shelley Tuttle’s legs failed her as she collapsed in shock, sobbing as the echo of the gun rang in her ears.

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