There is something very motivating about the sound of bullets whizzing past you. I find myself saying, “thank you,” over and over again as I run. I trip over my own feet and fall as I turn the corner, but I get up quickly and keep going. The lack of bullets flying by doesn’t convince me to slow down, because I know they’ll be back if I don’t get out of this place. I’m running deeper and deeper into the building, turning down every hall I find, trying desperately to lose my pursuers. I just hope I don’t get so lost that I can’t get back out again.