That first night was filled with placing one foot in front of the other and moving forward in a slow, awkward shuffle. Had anyone seen me they would have thought I was on a heavy dose of something. Fortunately, no one saw me and the night went by without another sign of my pursuers. Most of my memories of that night were of the pain. My body had gone numb from what I knew had to be frostbite, but I felt a terrible pain in my feet and hands. I ignored the pain and shuffled forward through the entire night, not stopping a single time. I felt safe from detection in the dark, but realized that when the sun rose my orange jumpsuit would be easy to spot on the open, treeless field. So as I walked I looked for a place to hide when the light came.

But there was nothing. I had not seen a single tree all night. The light from some distant farm was always with me. Fearful of a barking dog drawing attention to me I stayed well clear of those farms, though it was a temptation. I knew a farm would have a barn and numerous out buildings I might find some refuge in. Buildings that would hide me from a searching aircraft in the morning light. But I also knew that those buildings would be searched. The night was so cold and there were so few places to hide and find shelter, they were sure to check them all. They would not think anyone could walk all night in such cold. They would be sure that I would find a place to stay warm and spend the night there. This was the logic I held close as I kept going, walking, and one foot in front of the other. All night.

When the first lights of morning appeared in the east I spotted a tree line a hundred yards in front of me. I was still covered by the dark of night but that wouldn't last long so I move towards the tree line as fast as possible. As a tree line between fields went this wasn't much of one. There were five standing trees, tall and majestic, but bare of leaves. The only redeeming feature of this small break in the landscape was that there was a sixth tree, a dead one, broken from what I assumed had been a lightning strike from years ago. That tree had fallen over, but was still attached to its stump a few feet off the ground. It wasn't much, but it did provide a small bit of protection from a searching airplane.

I crawled under the tree, stopping for the first time since my escape. I propped my shoulder against the tree with my right arm under me to keep my head up, then spread my legs fully out. The moment I was settled I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke to the sound of dogs barking. Not just barking, baying. Tracking dogs. It was a sound I knew too well as I had heard them behind me before. The dogs were still some distance off, but I knew they would be moving fast. I moved to get up, to run, but I couldn't move. Setting up from a reclining position is a strange thing. You don't realize this until your body fails you, but how do you actually get up from an inclining position? We don't really think it through, all we do is think "get up" and all our muscles move together to make it happen. Yet when my brain told my body to run, I didn't move. So I got more specific and instructed my body to stand. Nothing. Sit up. Nada. Move my leg. Nothing happening. My body was done. All that remained was my mind and it wasn't working too well either.

The dogs sounded closer.

The barking sound of tracking dogs was now a distant distraction. The dogs no longer mattered. I knew why I couldn't move my limbs. I couldn't move them because I was dying. I accepted this. Though I have never been a man to give up easily, the signs were too obvious to ignore. I'd gotten wet when it was sixteen degrees, then walked all night without getting dry or warm. Soon after crossing that creek I had accepted that I would suffer from frostbite. But I didn't plan on letting a case of frostbite stop me. Nor did it. I was pretty pleased with myself for soldiering on all night. For fighting through the pain and discomfort. My brain had started to shut down on me soon after exiting that creek, but I had been able to keep a single thought at the forefront of my mind: If I stopped I would die. So I had to keep moving. Which I managed all night. All good. But when dawn broke I forgot that simple need. My instincts to elude those chasing me overrode my survival instinct. I laid down in hopes that I wouldn't be seen, but I had forgotten that if I laid down I would die.

I had no idea how long I had slept under that fallen tree, but it was long enough for my body to freeze in place. Long enough that I could no longer move. Long enough to kill me. I'm still surprised how easily I accepted my own death. I thought of Mary and our children for a moment, but even now, it was too painful for me to think about them. I thought of the cause I had cared so much about. This stuck with me. I could still get angry over the cause. I could still pull up a burning need to do something to stop what I saw as the murder of innocent babies in their mother's womb. Holding on to this strong emotion I prayed.

I didn't pray that I would survive. My emotional need to do something to protect those innocent babies was so strong that I prayed that my body wouldn't be found and that those who killed babies for a living would always fear me. I repeated that several times. "Make them fear me," I said. It was with this singular thought and the sound of baying dogs that I passed out.

When I woke I heard the dogs again, closer this time. Real close. I repeated my prayer that they wouldn't find my body and that those who killed babies would fear me. I repeated this prayer twice then passed out. I woke again to the sound of the dogs. They were so loud that I was sure their sound had woken me. I tried again to move but couldn't force any part of my body to respond. Convinced that I was near death I repeated my prayer and passed out.

I woke again to the sounds of dogs, only this time they weren't baking in the distance they were growling and they were in my face. There were two dogs and they were large. I don't know the breed but they look like the stereotypical blood hounds you'd see in a movie where they used dogs to hunt down an escaped prisoner. They were brown in color and about the size of my Rottweiler only they were a little longer in the leg and not as thick in the chest as Lady. But these dogs were vicious in a way I never expected any pet dog to be. They growled and barked and snarled. One was close enough to sling saliva on me, but the other stayed back about ten feet.

I'd known I was dying, but now I was sure I was about to be eaten, which didn't sound like the best way to go. Not that I would be able feel their teeth. I remembered my prayer, that my body not be found and I thought of the old adage about being careful what you asked for. I might have smiled. Not sure because the dogs had my attention. I remembered noticing that the one closest to me had a wide leather collar, what I would call a working collar, and a long thick leather lead. I remember thinking that it was odd that there was no handler on the end of that lead. Then I passed out again.

When I woke the dogs had stopped growling but seemed just as irritated. When one of them noticed me look at him he let out a long barking yell. Without thinking about it first I shouted, "Would you shut up!" The dogs seemed as surprised that I could speak as I was. After a moment's hesitation they both went back into attack dog mode with all the growling and snarling. It was a frightening display. It scared me enough that I again tried to get up but my body still wouldn't respond. Remembering that I could talk I used the only weapon I possessed. With my best commanding voice, I shouted, "Stop!" That didn't help so I tried other commands words like "Heel," "Sit," "Down," and anything else I could think of. None of this helped. I started wondering why the dogs were alone when I passed out again.

This time when I woke I felt like I had been out longer. One of the dogs was lying comfortably a few feet from me while the other paced fifteen feet back. The back one saw me open my eyes and let out an ear piercing "ahooooo," just like the sound I heard while they'd been on my trail. "Please don't do that," I said. At the sound of my calm voice the dog lying near me thumped his tail to the ground a few times. He didn't actually smile, but I sensed one near the surface. Taking this as a good sign I talked to them in a soft voice. In a conversational tone I said, "Where's your handler?" and "Are you going to eat me?" Nonsense like that, but the first question made sense. "Where are your handlers?" I asked again.

I kept talking, saying what I was thinking just so they could hear my voice. "You're tracking dogs. Have to be. No one would be hunting in this weather so you had to be tracking me. Some hunters release dogs on a hunt but never with a leash that could catch on something. You both have leashes that could get you hurt. I bet you were so excited about the chance to eat me that you broke away. Yes, you did." The near one got up and moved closer, his tail still swinging side to side. The one in the back was silent but keeping his distance. The near one seemed to relax at the sound of my voice so I kept talking.

"You got away at the creek, didn't you? You tracked me to that creek and they didn't believe you. That's it isn't it." And it was. Two braces of United States Marshals Service man hunting dogs had tracked me to that creek. The handlers agreed that no sane man would have entered that water with a sixteen-degree air temperature, so convinced they were falling a false trail they turned the dogs back to start over, but these two broke loose and crossed the creek on their own. Since none of the Marshals with them were willing to cross that creek the dogs were on their own when they found me. The dogs didn't tell me this, but a U.S. Marshal did nearly a year later. But I didn't have to hear it to know that was what had happened.

All I had to do was keep them from eating me and get past the fact that my body had died on me and I was in good shape.

The near dog was so close to me that I could touch him so I held my hand out for him to sniff it, which he did. It wasn't until I touched the dog's nose that I realized I had moved my hand. Other than my mouth it was the first time all day my body had responded to my command. I had half a Snicker's Bar in the breast pocket of my orange jumpsuit so I used that good hand to pull it out. The dog recognized it as something good so he moved closer. I pulled the wrapper off and held it out to him. He sniffed it, took a lick, and then ignored it. I realized the Snicker's was frozen solid, so lacked a smell. I licked it myself then put it back in my pocket.

I kept talking to the dogs. The friendly one remained friendly but the other kept his distance. He would occasionally growl then let out an ear piercing ahooooo, but other than that left me alone. Without realizing what was going on I passed out. When I came to again the dogs were gone. I tried to get up but couldn't. I could still move my hand but that was it. I thought, "They're not going to find me. Mary is going to be pissed when I never show up." I passed out again.