Reaching the bottom of the stairs Tom said a short prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that the town surrounding the massive stone temple was empty as he adjusted his grip on the small form in his arms and added as much speed as possible.

Tom was not the most athletic of people on earth, he had especially never been much of a runner by any stretch of the imagination, indeed just the week before he had declared that if he ever needed to run things had already gone to hell and he would be better served just accepting it.

With the rising shouts from behind him, Tom cursed his egotistical and foolish younger self and made a mental note that if he could get away from this without being ritualistically disemboweled he would put a concerted effort into working on his cardio.

Holding the body closer to his chest Tom ignored the burning in his legs and the ragged breathing as he aimed for the jungle he could see at the far side of the city wall maybe three hundred yards away.

Of course, given his flagging energy it may as well have been in China or on the far side of the moon for all the good it would do, he vaguely remembered stories of Jaguar Warriors simply running their targets down, their speed and endurance a thing of legends according to the stories.

Tom really hoped he wasn't being chased by them or he would be well and truly screwed.

For the second time that day Tom turned by thoughts skyward and whispered a prayer to whoever was listening, Tom would admit to not having been the most religious of people, all things considered having spent most sunday morning in bed rather than in church. But he had tried to live a decent life and right now he was really hoping that he had some Karma points racked up to his name that would help him out of this mess.

At the very least he didn’t think he deserved to be disemboweled by cultists for missing Sunday school for a couple decades.

“Whoever's watching, please don’t let me stop.” he whispered through gasping breath as he stumbled towards the leafy safety he saw ahead of him.

Tom found that his prayer wasn’t even for himself, even with a screaming band of bloodthirsty crazies chasing him, Tom knew that whatever happened would be insignificant to what they were going to do to the girl in his arms, he wasn’t going to let that happen, glancing down at the dusky skinned girl he repeated the prayer for her sake before placing all of his flagging energy into running.

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Good intentions and promises did very little in the face of utter exhaustion.

For a brief moment Tom almost felt a cool breath of air on his neck before it passed back into the oppressive heat of whatever Jungle Hell he found himself in.

The edge of the jungle was only a hundred yards away now, football players ran that distance all the time, surely Tom could make it just as easily.

The buzzing hiss of a stone tipped arrow zipping past his ear drew a rather unmanly yelp, still as the saying goes, ‘Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades’ and in this case a near miss was a miss that meant he remained un-pin cushioned, putting on a burst of speed Tom ran hell bent for leather towards the assumed safety of Jungle depths.

Two more arrows zipped by before he managed to clear the distance and crashed into the undergrowth, in a matter of seconds Tom was stumbling blindly through the foliage, behind him rose the cries of outrage from his pursuers as they stopped dead at the forest's edge.

For just a brief moment that particular act concerned Tom before he shoved it aside, whatever was keeping them from entering the forest couldn’t possibly be as bad as getting cut open with a stone knife.

in the adult words of Poo 'Zero fucks were given that day' as he made his mad flight from the crazies that had been chasing him, as his size fourteen boots propelled him through the sticky humid forest with the subtlety of a rampaging hippo with a toothache.

Running through a jungle was a surprise for Tom, the fact that he hadn’t collapsed as soon as he made it to the tree line was just the first of many surprises, for example Tom was also surprised at how quickly the vines and grasses cut him as he fled, the wrath of the billions of bugs he disturbed in his passing was a shock and the humidity.

God the humidity was a thing of nightmares.

Still Tom ran, for as long as he had energy he ran, he wasn’t sure if this was a second wind or a runner's high or even some higher power finally smiling down on his own poor heathen self, moved by his selfless act of heroism in the face of mad cultists or what have you.

But whatever it was, he wasn’t going to complain.

Tom wasn’t entirely sure how long or far he ran, it was actually his burden that broke him from the strange trance-like running state he had fallen into as she groaned in pain.

Skidding to a stop, Tom looked down at her in shock before cursing and gently setting the girl down, stripping his shirt off he pressed the cloth against the wound and cursed as the cotton almost immediately began to become sticky with blood.

Years ago one of the guys he had been working with had fallen and impaled himself on some rebar, the blood and guts from this were similar but also so very different, for a moment he almost locked up in terror before shaking himself and forcing his hands to move.

He knew he had a decision to make about the blade, the first aid teacher had advised that he leave items in the victim until you got them to a hospital, as pulling the item out can force the wound open and cause them to bleed out.

But given the location and clothes of the cultists he doubted there were any hospitals nearby, and from what he could see the jostling of his running had caused the strange crescent shaped blade to saw back and forth in the wound.

Long ago he had heard a piece of advice, "in any moment of crises, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the second best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing at all."