Swearing silently, Michael walked to the back of the room as quietly as he could and ducked through the only available door. He found himself in what must have been the kitchen, though there was nothing there but empty shelves and a rusted sink to tell him that.
There were two windows above the sink, just large enough for Michael’s body to squeeze through. The window glass had been knocked out long ago, and not even shards remained to cut his hands (to his relief). Michael hoisted himself up by putting one foot onto the sink and then grabbing the side of the window.
Once outside, he began to run away from the faint noises of his target’s friends. He knew he shouldn’t; they might hear him if he wound up stumbling into any rocks, and anyone seeing him running from the scene was bound to connect him to the body inside the old restaurant. But there was no one around except men he needed to escape from, and besides, the adrenaline inside of Michael refused to allow him the luxury of calm. He felt that he had to get some of the excitement inside of him out before he exploded from the pressure.
When the old restaurant was almost completely out of sight, Michael heard a roar of rage come from inside of it. Without realizing it he began to laugh and couldn’t stop.
End of chapter two.