Sometimes your characters surprise you.
It is easy to fall into the obvious escape narrative. As humans, our psyche dictates that we are running away from some imminent threat just as much as we are unknowingly running towards some other threat. It’s probably a species memory from when we were pre-meal morsels for much bigger and definitely less philosophically-centred creatures whose only raison d’etre was to kill and to eat. So, as little beasts we decided always to flee rather than offer up hostility; it was a way of surviving in order to flee another day. In these times it wasn’t a rather hungry sabre-tooth tiger but the arrival of a deadly plague, a pandemic that a fifth of its intended victims chose to deny because of its very obvious invisible nature, ‘Duh!’ Most of the population was predisposed to rightful fear whilst one fifth refused to accept that something so invisible could do so much harm. And if it was capable of doing harm, it was only doing it to those who had already lived beyond their usefulness. As somebody may once have pointed out, death happens to us all – there is no escaping it. Regardless of that throw-away wisdom, on that night, in that dream, with my guru, I tried to outpace the coming apocalypse.
Not only was my guru an accomplished mixer of pharmaceutical cocktails, a floating plateau of company and a dependable disappearing act, he was to become an incredibly brave and resourceful brother in arms. This was no time for running. The black-clothed Nazis were on the ward once again. Some of their scouts had been in the woods whilst others made brief appearances on daytime TV and it was this new wave that were after me. Consider it as a part of a game that a writer plays with