They shot into the dark and I ran as hard as I could. During that run my feet would be cut and badly injured, but at the time I was so pumped on fear and adrenaline I didn't feel the pain. By the time they stopped shooting and started chasing I had put considerable distance between us. They were close enough to hear their cop gear rattle and see light from their flash lights, but they had no idea which way I'd run or where I was now. I stopped running to reduce my noise and walked at a steady pace. Being spotted was bad, but not a total disaster. They wouldn't be able to concentrate a force until daylight so I had some time to open up a distance. I had no idea how long it was until daylight, but I had to use every second of the dark to my advantage.

Soon after the encounter I came upon a paved road. Not just paved, but freshly paved. So recently paved the asphalt was black as swamp mud. No yellow line down the center and no white lines on the side to mark the edge. I don't think I would have considered following any road, except this one was so dark and it's surface so smooth that it just called out to me. While weighing this I walked north. It was pitch black in every direction. The cops behind me in the woods wouldn't move fast enough to catch me, but they would call for help. That help was sure to come down this dark road, which would work to my advantage since I would see and hear their cars long before they could see me. When they came all I'd have to do was to run into the dark woods and let them pass. The other thought, the one that convinced me to stay on the road was that in the morning they would bring in tracking dogs. With an hour old trail through the woods the dogs would track me just fine. I couldn't smell myself, but I likely stunk so bad that a man with a decent nose could track me. It would be simple for blood hounds. But from what I knew about tracking dogs they couldn't track me down this road of freshly laid asphalt. Asphalt had its own smell, one so strong I figured it would overpower my own. Plus every time a car drove down the road it would further disrupt my smell, and add its own smell of gas and rubber.

With a renewed feeling that I might get through this my walk became a run. After all I had endured, running down this perfectly smooth road was pure joy. I was twenty-one years old and in superb shape. I was also motivated beyond explanation. I ran and kept running. The only time I stopped was when I saw the lights of a car in the distance. When that happened I had ample time to move deep into the woods to let it pass. This happened seven times and every time it was a police car. My guess is that I covered fifteen miles before I left the road for the woods. I only did so because the road ahead was bright with the lights of a store. The road had served me well but it was time to leave it.

I have to give a comment here: I believe all that happened to this point and what I am about to describe all happened in the same night. But as I think about all that happened that night and how much ground I covered I question my own memory. It's possible this occurred over two or more days, but I don't think so because I have no memory of daytime events. Still, I am not certain this all occurred in that first night. I'm sure there is an official record that would answer this question, but as I write this I don't have access to it.

While cutting through the woods I came upon a large field bordered with wire fence. Since it was still dark I climbed the fence and crossed the field. Ahead of me I spotted a barn sitting by itself. Seeing the barn I looked around for a house, which I spotted a considerable distance away. I'd planned to stay away from homes, but this barn was such a great distance from the house that I decided to take a look and see if there was anything I could use. A pair of pants would be nice. When I entered the building I saw that it wasn't a barn, but rather an airplane hanger.

Later in life I would earn my pilot's license and would know the plane I saw was a Piper Cub. A thirty year old workhorse of bush country. A dependable airplane and the perfect one for me to run into this night. Perfect if only I knew how to fly. At that point I'd ridden in small planes but never flown one. The thought of being able to fly out of there was so appealing that I leaned in and felt my way around. A flash light sat on the pilot's seat so I turned it on and studied the controls and instruments. For several minutes I considered trying to fly the thing, but grudgingly admitted to myself that doing so would be foolish. I put the flashlight back on the seat. Before leaving the hanger I swore that one day I would learn to fly, which I did six years later.

Back into the woods and walking north. The sun was just starting to hint at its pending arrival when I reached Interstate 95. Waiting until there was no traffic I jumped the fence and ran to the opposite side of I-95. When a car passed I was able to read an exit sign that said there were services in one mile. South, but fine with me. I was in desperate need of services. Staying in the woods I easily reached the interchange. There were two hotels, a restaurant, and two gas stations. At this early hour everything appeared to be closed. I didn't spot any cops. I quickly crossed the country road that made up the interchange and entered a Holiday Inn's parking lot. It was a motel with every room open to the outside. There was an inner courtyard with a pool. I-95 bordered on one side, the rural road on another, with woods on the remaining two sides. I went into the court yard, found a water hose and drank my fill. Wearing nothing but torn and filthy boxer shorts I eyed the pool. A sign said it opened at 7:00 AM. I needed to wash the mud off so I climbed the fence and dove in.

I hadn't considered the effect chlorine would have on my cut and bite covered body. I started screaming when I was still under water from the dive. I swallowed so much water I nearly drown, which would have been funny in a perverse way. To survive the swamp only to drown in the Holiday Inn pool. In the end it worked out that I'd screamed under water as I didn't want to call attention to myself. As painful as the chlorine was on my cuts, it served to clean them out well enough that I didn't suffer any infections from my many injuries. With my thin underwear wet I may as well have been naked so clothes became my first priority. I spotted a station wagon with multiple suitcases strapped to the luggage rack, so I untied one and carried it to the woods. I remember it had New Jersey plates, which made me think about Coast Guard boot camp.

The suitcase belonged to a woman, but there was a pair of jeans I was able to get into. I'm six foot one, so they were far too short, but it was a great improvement over my underwear. I chose the least feminine shirt and a pair of flip-flops four sizes too small. I needed to look at my face to see if I was presentable enough to go into public, but there wasn't a mirror in the suit case. There was a Polaroid Land Camera, the kind that gave you a photograph a minute after you took it. So I used it to take my first ever selfie. I knew my face was messed up, but wasn't prepared for how bad it was. I found a pair of reading glasses and put them on, then took another selfie. Still no good. I added a base ball cap and took another selfie, then another with the ball cap and glasses. That was the look I went with. I also found eight dollars in change.

I left the luggage and camera in the woods then walked out to the road. On the opposite side of I-95 I could see lights turned on at a gas station, so I took a chance and walked across the interchange. The gas station was a local business with a garage and a small selection of snacks and sodas. The station showed every sign of just opening. One guy was behind the counter loading bills into the cash register, another had opened the big garage door and wheeled an oil rack display outside. One car had been sitting at the pump before they opened so the garage guy went to the car, spoke to the driver then began pumping gas. I took all this in and registered it as normal. Being in Savannah made me feel nostalgic for childhood days so I bought a Moon Pie and RC Cola, something I always snacked on when I was a kid. I paid with with the stolen coins then walked around to the back of the station, sat on a stack of old tires and enjoyed my breakfast.

After finishing off the soda and pie, I was still hungry so went back in for another. I set the empty returnable bottle on the counter then grabbed another Moon Pie and RC Cola. No one was at the counter so I looked through the door connected to the garage. It too was empty. I called out but received no answer. I looked out at the gas pumps and noticed two cars sitting there, but no one around. It took seconds for my brain to scream danger. I walked fast out the door to the back of the station. I'd noticed a dirt road behind the store so went there. I would have started running but the RC Cola was hitting my empty stomach hard, so I settled for a fast walk. There were several rural houses on the dirt road. Behind the houses on the left was the country road that made up the I-95 interchange, but behind the houses to my right were thick woods. I would have cut through a yard and went into the woods but couldn't because the first two houses had a fence in the front and back yard and both had large dogs that were currently barking at me. I walked fast with intention of turning into the woods when I got past the fences. Before I made it a Chatham County Sherriff's car turned on to the dirt road about a hundred yards in front of me. Headed right at me.

The only possible direction to run was into the woods to my right, but I'd never be fast enough. I'd have to jump the fence and fight off one of the dogs, which would give the cop ample time to shoot me. I needed to clear the fence before turning into the woods but there was no way I'd beat the Sherriff's car to that spot, so I was stuck. If he pulled his gun I was caught. There was no doubt in my mind that he was here in response to a call from the gas station worker. With no viable option I decided to bluff. I didn't think it through, didn't plan it. As is always the case with things like this, I just did it.

The Sherriff's car was fifty feet from me when I stopped walking and stood my ground. I put my right hand behind my back, then my left. With my left hand I made the motion of pulling a slide back on an automatic pistol, then dropped my left hand to my side. With my right hand still hidden I assumed a modified shooter's stance, bent slightly so I could see the officer and gave him the meanest look I had. Close and completely focused on the officer's face I was able to read his reaction well. He bought my "I have a gun" lie: hook, line, and sinker. He placed both hands on the top of the steering wheel so I could see them and looked straight ahead. He was pretending he couldn't see me, but we both knew that wasn't possible. He passed me doing about five miles an hour so I had plenty of time to look into his car through the passenger window from about a foot away. His radio microphone was draped over his right leg and his service revolver was on the seat beside his knee. As he passed he didn't so much as sneak a peek in my direction while I read every inch of his body language.

When the car cleared my position I ran for the opening past the fence, then turned and bolted for the woods. When the cop reached the pavement of the road that ran in front of the gas station he hit his lights and siren, then burned rubber as he turned his car to chase me down. It was quite a show. I later learned othat he told his boss that when he passed me he was going too fast on the dirt road to stop in time to challenge me. It was a weak story, but I don't blame him for trying. The truth would be a bit awkward. Whatever his reasons, at the break of dawn I'd been spotted. I was exhausted and my stomach was cramping in pain, but a fresh chase was on so I ran.