STOP!

STOP

Six months of planning, six months of digging, all to achieve this ultimate goal: freedom.
But even freedom comes with a cost.
It was Tattoo Tom’s idea. I couldn’t say no.
So here I am, eight days out, cold and hungry, shivering and wet, listening to the wind that carries the echoes of the bloodhounds in the distance.
But I’m on another planet now. How can they smell me?
Make it stop.
Please…make it stop!