He knew it was already getting late. The night was moonless, but the street lights around penetrated deep into the night, making it seem as if it wasn’t nightfall yet. He never stopped running with his mask on to disguise himself.
And now, the crowd was after him, chasing him like hell. Suddenly, he took a curve and then a bend, and the penetrating street lights dimmed and darkness fell ahead.
As he ran into the darkness, the angry men withdrew. They knew he had escaped and there was nothing the police could do about it either, even when they heard the sirens.
“Too late, another criminal escape,” they said as they withdrew and walked.
Quande Olaye never stopped breathing. And with his torn clothes still hanging on his nearly naked body, he knew he was lucky, lucky to have escaped alive, and with the bag full of stolen money still tied firmly to his right hand, he knew he had turned pro.
