Caught

Panting like a dog, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, as far as his eyes could see. Hues of yellow graced the sky, and the haunted mountains in the horizon appeared pitch-black. He ran out of breath, but fear gave birth to desperation, and desperation kept him going. He heard them bark, as their olive boots boomed in the silence. 'Stop or we'll shoot,' they yelled, but he knew he could not stop. Not after all this time.
The horizon was now pale yellow, and the breaking dawn gave him a sense of false security, but he was well aware of its deceiving nature. They were at his heels. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks, and as he made his way down the wispy, earthen road, his fate becoming clearer and clearer. What gave him hope was that he had been in this situation too many times, and had come out of it triumphant. But would it work today? Could his legs save him once again?
The long, sharp strands of wheat stung his bare arms and tore his dirty grey t-shirt in places. From the corner of his eyes, he looked at the meadow beside him. For a split second, he wondered if he should alter his route, and camouflage himself amid the crops, but they knew this technique too well. He would be too easy to catch. However, out in the open, he was an even easier target to shoot.
Maybe it was his train of thought that slowed his pace, and suddenly he was within arm's reach. He felt a hand brush against his back. And that was it. He knew his end was fearfully close. His heart banged against his bony chest, and he let a frightened scream escape his lips. For the first time in his life he felt frightened. For the first time in his career, he did not feel confident. His hearty pleas to God went unanswered as he felt a firm grasp on his shoulder. Within seconds, he was pinned to the ground, ten guns pointed at him.
'Let me go! Let me go!' he thrashed and writhed as they dragged him to hell, their flushed faces roaring with laughter. They were bound to get a promotion; they had just caught the infamous gold smuggler they had been after for years now. He could see their jeep, parked next to his truck. The back door was slightly open, and he could see the gold bars glistening in the dark. 'You'll rot in jail, I declare,' his father had said at his mother's funeral. His occupation had struck her like thunder, and the world had seemed too cruel a place to live in, so she'd left. Just like that, she'd stranded him. His father could not bear to see his disgraceful face anymore so he disowned him. 'What would father say now?' Sulaiman wondered as the police hauled him towards the jeep.
They hurled him inside, and he landed with a thud, the shackles that bounded his legs and wrists jingling against the dusty, steel floor. One of them grabbed him by his hair, and dragged him up. He winced in pain as he stared at the devil. A tight slap landed across his cheek, almost beheading him. They laughed as the officer beamed triumphantly at the clear red imprint on his cheek. It stung, as if someone was poking him with a million needles, but he remained silent. He had nothing to say.
They tied him up in a corner spot from where he could see outside. The vibrant sky with its bright strokes of yellow, red and orange was punctuated here and there with puffs of black and navy blue. The birds were awake, chirping softly, as if scared to ruin the tranquilizing silence of dawn. The men were dozing off, but Sulaiman stared blankly. He saw a little bird fly out of its nest on a nearby banyan tree. He watched it spread its wings and flutter against the calm, cool air and disappear into the warm yellow horizon. He stroked the cold, iron chains with numb fingers. A single teardrop rolled down his cheek, as he realized that he could never be like that bird again.