The man ran quickly over the hillsides. He had been running long enough to know how to do it well. Through the years, he had perfected a style, a rhthym. For a few blank seconds he was exubberated by this new scenary. But he had no time to divulge in the masterpiece that was the landscape  - Montana's rolling hills had never looked this pretty. As soon as he looked back, he saw the silloulette of the jeep against the stark sunrise.They were coming. They were coming for him. They were coming without mercy. The man knew what they wanted, knew what they desired. It was only a matter of time until they got him. They were closer than ever. He had tired of the running. He had tired of this cat-and-mouse game they had played for well over 10 years. It was time to finish the fight, end it now.

As the jeep aproached, the man became more and more anxious. This was it. This was the end.

The jeep rolled to a screeching halt, taking up divets of grass as it stopped. Two men jumped out, both weilding semi-autos.

"Spider, we've got you. We've got you Spider," the man on the left spoke up.

"This is how its going to end," the other said.

"No. This is the beginning," Spider replied.

Light flashed everywhere. Shots of electricty eminated in all directions. This was the beginning.

          ~~~         ~~~~~        ~~~         ~~~~~~        ~~~

The story of Spider Lockhart is one that begins in Montana, in the first grade. Well, I suppose the story starts at his conception, but the first 7 years of his life are trivial, entirely ordinary. However, that eighth year, that first grade year, was unlike any year in the existence of mankind. It shaped Spider, made him who he is.

It began with the murder of his parents. Away on an anniversary vacation, they were alone in a car in the woods when a faceless killer strangled them to death, later hanging them on shower heads in his bathroom. A strange way to go, but devestating for Spider. His parents had been his life, and now without them, he felt alone.

He was shifted from relative to relative, each misappropriating his inheritance (not large to begin with) until at last he arrived at his aunt's house entirely penniless. His aunt, herself very poor, took him and cared for him like she was his own mother.

Being poor had its obvious disadvantages, especially in Montana. Spider could only purchase one pair of shoes a year, and he certaintly was not going to use this one pair per year on a par of snow boots! However, this meant he had to wear tennis shoes in the dead of Montana winter. One particularly cold morning, he gathered up some loose change and used it as bus money, so he wouldnt have to freeze off his feet. As he sat down on his blue seat, he noticed a man dressed in rage behnd him. After a few minutes, the man leaned over Spider's seat and noted the absebce of boots.

"You're feet must be freezing," he stated.

"They certaintly are'ny toasty warm."

"Want me to help you get some boots?"

This question startled Spider. Hoe could an obviously poor man get him shoes? Either way, he obliged and decided to listen

Spider, obviously naive, followed the hobo off the bus, and onto the Montana streets.

It seemed colder now then when he had been outside before. Walking down the streets with the hobo was a strange sensation. OUt of the corner of his eye, he noticed a boy from school, in the second grade walking with his father.

"Notice any shoes you might want?" they hobo posed simply.

"Those over there look nice," Spider said pointing to the second grader.

"Have any rope on you?" the hobo asked.

"Just a jumprope," Spider said (it was jumprope dat at schol).

"We'll use that to get the boots."

"I don't think he'll trade his boots for my jumprope!"

"Thats not the plane."

The hobo then proceeded to outline a plan for taking the boy's boots. Spider was initialy stunned speechless at the hobo's talk, but he gradually accepted it as reasonable.

Spider walked up behind the boy. Shaking, he threw the jumprope around the boy's neck. He pulled it tight, to the gagging noise of the boy. The dad noticed the boy's screams and turned around, ready to strike out at Spider. Right before he made his move, the hobo jumped out and tackled the father, stealing his boots.

"Quick kid! Get the boots! Lets roll!" the hobo screamed to Spider. By this time, the boy was wrathing on the ground in colvulsions of surprise / stranglement. Spider grabbed his boots and ran. He and hobo ran around the corner and down the street. They found an alley way, running in as the sound of sirens rang out in the background. The hobo jumped into a box at the mouth of the alley, Spider going in deeper and entering into a dumpster.

The sirens grew to a deafening blast as fve cop cars sped into the alley. In the process, they hit the box the hobo was hiding in, knocking him out. They detained him and left. Being from Montana, they did not think to search the scene for other suspects, even though they had been reported on phone calls to the police. Within ten minutes, Spider was left alone in his dumpster. He silently got out and walked to the main road, not thinking twice before he took off towards home. This was the last time he would be able to run home after a tragic event. But it wouldn't be the last time he'd try.

~~~   ~~~~  ~~~~~~     ~~~~     ~~~~~~~      ~~~~~  ~~~~