Nathan's Run (1996) Read Online Free Page A

about. The neighborhood was asleep. It was time for him to make his move.
    Using only his elbows for propulsion, Nathan snaked from behind the boxwood and onto the grass. Free of the leafy tunnel, he drew his feet under him and was instantly reminded of the beating they'd taken through the woods. Though his soles stung badly, the cool wetness of the grass was soothing.
    Nathan now had a full and unobstructed view of the street. Crouched like a cat, he looked around and calculated what needed to be done. The space that separated him from the shadows of the house across the street looked like the same distance as the fifty-yard dash he'd had to run in school. Fifty yards. Last time he tested out, he had covered the distance in 7.8 seconds, fastest in his class. That was no time at all.
    From his crouched position, he counted down in his head. On your mark . . . get set . . . GO!
    He covered the front yard in five quick strides, hit the street on his sixth step, and a well-camouflaged rock on his eighth. The rock hobbled him and made him stumble face-first onto the grass across the street.
    Beyond his aching right foot and a little road rash, he was unhurt. But Jesus, he had made a lot of noise!
    At that instant, an explosion of light blasted from the house he'd just left as the garage door once again rumbled upwards. Even as the door cleared the first two inches from the ground, Nathan could see the feet, legs, and ultimately the entire body of the man who lived there.
    Nathan nearly panicked. He was completely out in the open, easily twenty feet from the nearest shadow. With no real alternative, he resumed his crouch and froze in place. Sometimes the best place to hide is out in the open, his father had once told him.
    Nathan's eyes never moved from the man as he rolled a trash can out to the curb, followed by a container full of newspapers. Never once did the man even glance across the street. No sign of recognition at all. Once the man disappeared inside and the garage door started down again, Nathan dashed into the shadow cast by the house he hoped would be his home for the night.
    Thanks to the lessons of MacGyver, it took Nathan about ten seconds to break into the house. He chose as his point of entry the French doors on the main level in the rear. Using his elbow to break out a single pane of glass near the lock, he winced in anticipation of pain that never came. It wasn't even noisy, thanks to the lush carpeting on the other side. Nathan reached through the opening he had created and turned both the deadbolt and the knob.
    The door swung open into a darkened rec room, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace on his right, and by a huge entertainment center on his left. In between skulked the shadowy outlines of various pieces of furniture. Nathan gently closed the French doors again. And locked them.
    Though his eyes were well-accustomed to the darkness, he moved cautiously, paranoid of jamming a bare toe into some unseen obstacle.
    This place is huge.
    The kitchen, with an eat-in breakfast area, sprawled to his left beyond the entertainment center. Beyond that, and out of sight, were a living room, formal dining room and library, all on the first floor.
    A place like this ought to have an alarm system. The thought nudged his panic button just a little before he realized that he'd already been inside long enough that it would be too late to react. One way or another, it was a done deal, not worth worrying about tonight. Still, it was a good thought to keep in mind for the future.
    Nathan's first destination was the refrigerator. He was starving. He had to yank hard to get the door to open, but it was a wasted effort. The shelves were barren; no pizza, no leftovers, not even a carton of milk. From a compartment in the door, he pulled out a jar of sweet pickles.
    Then he froze. In the dim light of the refrigerator, he got his first good look at his hands. They were filthy, caked with dirt and grass stains. And