On the Run

I dove for cover under a bush, desperately gasping for air as quietly as I could.
Considering I sounded like a dying whale, being quiet wasn't that easy to do.
Burying my face into the ground as my lungs attempted to inhale the entire earth's atmosphere, I listened to the copter and planes flying over head. They'd tried to shoot me before I dove among the trees the bullets biting into the dust all around me. I had to have had used up a ton of Luck given the fact that I hadn't been hit by any of them. How much longer would Luck stay on my side though? I'd been on the run for at least two weeks, surely I would be hitting empty soon.
Pushing to my feet, now that the aircrafts in the sky were moving away, I once more broke into a run. Please Luck. Let me make it before you leave. I pleaded. Please.

-Inspiration from watching the play: 39 Steps