Act One
The heat beat down on Joe. His hayfever caused him to sneeze violently every six seconds. Despite the regularity each spasm came out of nowhere. He pushed his way as quickly as he could through the corn field. His eyes itched terribly. He sneezed with a a force that almost knocked him off his feet. This hadn't been a good escape plan. Looking behind him, the police were entering the field. Atchoo.
Act Two
He wiped his nose, then wiped his hand on his pants, a futile attempt to stem the constant supply of wet snot. He wished he'd taken tissues as well as cigarettes from the shop. He considered using one of the pile of ten pound notes that he'd stuffed into his back pockets.
If the police were entering the field, that meant they hadn't managed to get anyone in front of him yet, there was no helicopter, and he still had a chance of getting out of this. The corn was about five foot tall. It should be possible to lose them in here, to double back, or to exit the field at a hidden point by the stream. The stream. He could wash the pollen from his face. Atchoo.
Joe ducked down and found a gap in the corn from the tractor's wheels. Following this back would lead him directly back past the policemen if they didn't find it first. He began making his way back. Atchoo.
Shite they were closer than expected. He hit the ground and listened as they pushed their way through the field. Passing him... Atch....
Act Three
Joe's nose burned as he held in the sneeze. Holding his breath. Forcing the spasm back into every other muscle, and concentrating on keeping them all in check. Tears streamed from his eyes, squeezed through eyelids that barely contained swollen eyeballs. His eardrums threatened to burst.
And the policemen had passed. He was in with a chance. Atchoo.
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