The fugitive, Carver Schramm, scrambled through the undergrowth above the northbound lane of Highway 101, making his way to the Canadian Yukon Territory, where he hoped to lose himself.
He hadn’t meant to kill that stupid guard at Pelican Bay Super Max Prison. The fool must have had some sort of brittle bone disease for his neck to snap like that.
Schramm wasn’t squeamish about a bit of murder, now and then, but he knew killing a guard while breaking out would have every cop in the country on his tail.
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