Posts Tagged ‘being chased’

Kevin and I were returning to our motel room, walking along the sidewalk with rolling luggage in tow.  I was dressed in a fine suit of imported silk.  We turned onto the concrete path leading to our motel room door, one in a long line facing the residential street.  I glanced at the window of the room next to ours and saw someone looking back out.  They were frantically banging on the glass, silently screaming with urgency.

“Something’s not right, Kevin.  Wait,” I said. “Something is wrong. Don’t open the door. Let’s get out of here. The mob must have found us.”  Kevin lowered the room key and turned with me to leave.  The ear splitting screech of tires grabbed our attention.  A minivan came roaring down the street and skidded in a U-turn to a stop in front of us.  The side door flew open and Matt yelled for us to jump in quick.  His mom sat behind the wheel.

We threw in our luggage and quickly followed it ourselves.  I clicked my seat belt and the door slammed shut.  I looked out the back window of the van.  A green 1969 Dodge Charger leapt out of its parking space on the street in a cloud of tire smoke.  Its occupants were tough looking characters in suits and fedoras. The Charger sped across the street and rammed into the back of the van.  Metal crumpled and shattered glass filled the air.

“We’re boned,” I said.  “Just stop, maybe they won’t kill us.”  Matt’s mom floored the accelerator, and the minivan instantly took off.  The Charger followed in close pursuit.  I had never seen such driving.  Matt’s mom handled the van like it was a race car, careening around corners, jumping curbs to cut corners and purposefully sideswiping the low stone walls in front of neighborhood houses to avoid slowing down too much around turns.  We achieved speeds over 70 mph as the houses on either side diminished to a blur. The mob car slowly began losing ground until it tried to take one corner too tightly and spun out, coming to rest after it slammed into the side of one house’s nearby woodpile.

We finally reached the safety of the convention center.  It was far too crowded here for the mob to make their move.  Matt and his mom dropped us off and we took our luggage inside.

I stopped and smacked my forehead. “Oh man!  I forgot my sunglasses in the motel room!  Those things cost me $175!”  I was lying, they really only cost $150.  Monica showed up to tell me where I could buy some good replacements.

Emily emerged from the crowd and was overjoyed to see her brothers alive.  She gave us hugs.


Kevin and I shouldered our way into the crowded room of the house party and made our way to the bar.  We grabbed a few drinks to sip on as we surveyed the partygoers.  One particular hot chick caught my eye and plans to scam her phone number were quickly put into motion.

I would approach her first, going the total nice guy route, chatting her up.  Kevin would soon come in and remark how she shouldn’t give her number out to some two-bit loser like me when she could give it to him.  This would cause her to give me her number just to spite him.  We executed the plan to perfection, and as she was writing down her number for me on a piece of paper we couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Ohhhh!  You just go so played!”

“That was our plan all along!”

After much knee slapping and high fives between we brothers, it became obvious she was not entertained in the least.  She broke into tears and ran off.  I looked at Kevin and shrugged.

Angry voices came hurtling in from the adjacent room.  Two very unhappy Albanians shoved their way through the crowd, each brandishing a menacing MAC 10.  

“Oh shit,” I said.

One of the gangsters shouted, “Who the fuck made her cry?”  He spotted us and didn’t wait for a reply, instead raising the MAC 10 and squeezing off a clattering stream of 9 mm bullets in our direction.  We ducked just in time, glass shattering behind us as the bar exploded in glittering alcoholic shrapnel.

We tripped over ourselves bolting for the stairs up to the second floor.  I frantically scrambled for the phone in my pocket and dialed 911.

“Please, you have to help us!” My voice shook with panic.  “I don’t know where we are, some place out in the middle of nowhere!”  I hung up in frustration.  We looked around.  They hadn’t come upstairs yet.

“Maybe they forgot about us,” remarked Kevin.  I shrugged.  It was possible.  We sat down on the floor.  Lucas came over and offered us some lunch.  I popped in a slice of avocado, savoring the delicious squish it made in my mouth.

The stairs below thundered with approaching footsteps.  “Or not. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Lucas, now guilty by association, ran after us onto the room’s adjoined balcony.  We climbed down the decorative lattice of the porch below and made a dash for the vine covered wall of the backyard.  Vaulting over the wall, we landed in a large corn field.  The golden topped stalks reached well over our heads.  We gave no heed to a stealthy getaway and thrashed our way through the plants in a dead on sprint.  Bullets whizzed overhead.  Our pursuers were closing in.

With a cry of pain, Lucas fell to the ground clutching his leg.  Blood oozed from the wound.  There was no way we were going to be able to carry him and escape.  I regarded my fallen friend.

“Don’t worry Lucas, I’ll come back for you.  Kevin, stay here with him.”  There were two ways this could end, and I was determined to see it through to the conclusion that left us alive.

I started back the way we had come and met the group of gangsters hot on our trail in a small forest clearing.  There were six of them now.  The two armed with the machine pistols raised them at me, and a third aimed an automatic pistol at my head.  I walked up to them, staring down the leader.  Their fingers tightened on the triggers.

I stopped inches short of the leader’s still smoking gun barrel.  With lightning speed I snatched the gun from his hands and turned it to his face.  His steely gaze never wavered.  I squeezed the trigger and held it down.  The recoil jackhammered my arm as the gun fired off 10, 20, 30 rounds at point blank range.  My ears were still ringing as the smoke cleared.

There the gangster stood.  How did I miss?  How is that even possible?

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he muttered.  “Melee style.”

His gang grouped together, wrapping themselves in long lengths of heavy steel chain.  I bent to pick up a thick piece of insulated wire from the ground, about four feet long.  Bent in half, it would make an excellent whip.

The gang continued to wrap chains about themselves, intertwining the links until they were clustered in a group, unable to maneuver individually.  I raised my whip and slashed the leader across the throat.

The gravel of the dry creek bed crunched beneath my boots.  Soon this would be site to a massive freeway overpass and changeover, a concrete spaghetti bowl of twisting roads and towering pillars.  For now though, the project was just getting started, and we were there to make sure it went smoothly.  Upon arriving at the site, Dad, Kevin, the others of our inspection team, and I set off to inspect the construction workers.

It was to no one’s surprise that we found groups of them simply standing around, idly chatting or even napping in the shade.  Typical Cal Trans bullshit.  They’ll never get this thing done on time. My father was particularly upset about the on-ramp not going up and left us to go berate the project manager.  He walked down the creek, directly under the suspended loads of the construction cranes.  Very dangerous.  Where are the safety officers?  Why are they letting him go there unescorted? It was then I realized they truly didn’t care.  We were on our own.

Kevin and I grabbed our packs and took off into the forest.  We soon came to a small clearing.  Filling the clearing were rows upon rows of young marijuana plants, laid out in a grid beneath suspended wires.  The wires hung a couple feet off the ground and were hooked up to a nearby transformer that was simultaneously running at two different frequencies.  The wires hanging overhead, positively vibrating from the electricity coursing through them, emitted a glowing neon green light providing the plants below perfect irradiated nourishment.  Underground, beneath the plants, was a mirrored grid of wires running at a very low frequency.  This enabled just the right amount of heat to work its way up to the plants.

I stooped to inspect the wires.  Fools.  The wires are a good idea, but didn’t they see how sharp they were? Some of the plants were already reaching the wires above them, and were getting sliced off short on the razor sharp edges.

Hunger was turning my stomach into a knot, so we moved on.  A wide meadow opened in front of us, its tall grass thick with glistening dew.  By now we were nearly starving.  I looked down and was overjoyed.  Scattered among the tall blades of grass and damp soil of the meadow was a trail of Fruit Loops.  Kevin and I dropped to the ground and began to ravenously devour each Fruit Loop we could find.  So fruity, so delicious, just what we needed.

A baby’s cry somewhere in the distance interrupted our meal.  We froze, straining to hear any more sounds in the suddenly silent air.  We kept to a crouch as we hurried to the edge of the meadow and hid behind a large log.  I poked my head up.  A trail ran on the other side of the log, sloping down to the creek bed far below.  From here we could see the construction site, the workers finally moving about, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel.

I spotted a coyote down near the end of the trail.  Coyotes can be dangerous, but usually only if they are hunting in a pack. Good thing this one was alone…  It took only seconds for me to notice the other 2 coyotes sprinting up the trail towards me, yipping and howling, but those were precious seconds I couldn’t spare.  I took off at a sprint in the other direction, but I knew my chances were slim.  Frozen in terror, Kevin remained motionless, crouched atop the log.

The rapid sound of padding feet grew closer behind me.  I wasn’t going to outrun them.  Planting my foot down firmly I skidded to a halt and turned to stand my ground.  The lead coyote leaped, lunging with its snapping jaws for my face.  I reached out and grabbed it by the throat with both hands, trying to strangle the life out of it as I held it at bay.  The other two in the pack arrived, and I desperately flung the coyote in my grasp back and forth, attempting to shield me from the other vicious hunters.