Prologue:

He could tell the chase was coming to a close. He was going to be caught, he had seen it coming. He sat alone, in the dark room, rocking back and forth. He was scared. He had known for quite some time he would die, and had thought he had prepared himself. But nothing could prepare you for knowing that at any moment your worst fear would walk though that door and you would feel terror, then never feel again. "Death" he whispered to himself. It is thought of as just a word, something to joke about, make theories about, cry about. But when it is coming to you, he realized it is not just a word, its doom, not the word 'doom', the feeling of doom. He could hear them coming for him. He hoped he was not about to die in vein. He resolved to believe that the cause he fought for was not about to die with him. He died proud of that. But he also died feeling guilty, knowing who he had handed his burden to.

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