England had one of the few natural forests left. It was here one could truly find peace of mind and of body - or deliver a body to it's resting place not to be found for years. It was still deeply entrenched in the Atlantic jet stream, which today brought on a dampness and light fog to the evening. It was a gray Fall and it suited Pierce's trench-coat perfectly. He wore a hat to cover his short dark hair.
He grimly smiled at the grassy soil as the two men slowly approached him. Glancing at his watch, Pierce began his slow circle several tens of yards away from the two of them. They saw his head rise a fraction of an inch to expose more of his face. His hat dropped to the ground.
"Hey... stop!" they cried too late.
Spryly, Pierce began sprinting, lanky legs and lower mass than the two behind him beating the ground at a pace they could not match; even with his trench coat on, he was fast. They had been in an ravine that was sparsely populated with smaller birches, backed by a eye-height wall of twisting trees that had fallen across the ravine which Pierce latched onto and over with a practiced speedspeed. It was then he stopped, controlling his breathing perfectly.
The two fell into a tense stand still after bolting up to the wood blockade.
"What?" his deep voice replied, hidden, from the other side.
"What about our payme..." the gentleman never got to finish. A bright flash broke through the fog behind them, falling to an orange glowing coating the forest, the ground trembled slightly once just before the men's eyes wandered toward the flash, causing them to stumble as they turned.
If there was an explosion, where's the noise? Pierce braced himself.
After taking one more slow step back towards the road and stopping, the men watched helplessly in adrenaline time as the fog rippled towards them going the speed of sound. Both men on the other side of the fallen birch were struck by a sudden blast of heated air and the roaring sound accompanying it. The birch around them waved and leaves flew as Pierce covered himself with his trench coat. He had made it from a thread that was the most sturdy material available in Yorkshire, a marriage of spider silk and synthetic carbon fiber. Inside the lining he had placed lead mesh, which, he admitted, did not help the weight. The fog would soon be melted away...
It was there his dream ended. It was the second time he had experienced it.